A Cursed Bloodline (WG 4) (24 page)

She’d sensed me and stalked to where I waited.

While she didn’t know precisely where I stood, she was close enough. She glowered at me just slightly to the left. My tigress already hated her. The growl that escaped me was meant to challenge and frighten.

It failed to have the effect I wanted. The edges of Lucinda’s mouth curved into a sadistic smile.
“Te veo luego, puta,”
she said right before jabbing her finger into my sternum.

I gasped for breath, clutching my chest as a strong hand seized my lung. Tye shook me and yelled my name. It took a few more coughs before I could breathe again. His eyes fired with anger. “What the hell happened? You stopped breathing!”

The vampires around us stilled, waiting for my response, seemingly more furious than ever. “She squeezed the air out of my lung,” I answered, thinking aloud. “She told me she’d see me soon.”

“Who?”

“Lucinda—a witch. She knew I was there, but she couldn’t see me.”

Tye swore and paced the room. “I was hoping she wouldn’t be involved.”

“You know her?”

“Not personally, but she’s bad news. She was one of the thirteen strongest dark witches in Central and South America.”

“What do you mean
was
?”

Agnes adjusted her tiny librarian glasses. “She’s one of only four who still reign. The others have been killed, captured, or gone into hiding. Her daughter—who was almost as powerful—died recently.”

I continued to rub my chest. “Really? How’d she die?”

“Your sister Taran killed her.”

I stopped rubbing my chest. “Oh, this can’t be good.”

Agnes worked on rebraiding her hair, something she often did when agitated. “Her daughter was Veronica, the witch who helped the Tribe raise Ihuaivulu.”

I suddenly felt nauseated. “And you’re telling me Veronica—who was strong enough to awaken a seven-headed fire-breathing demon after it had been asleep for a millennium—was still not as powerful as her mother?”

Agnes started on her other braid. “Mmm-hmm.”

Hank leaned forward. “You saw the master, didn’t you?”

I tried to relax my breathing. “Yes…he’s really sick. We have to get to him fast or he may not make it.”

“Who has him?” Tye asked.

“A few
weres,
but I could also scent traces of vampires.” I shook my head thinking back to their torture of Misha. “Lucinda seems to be the one in charge. The wereoxen guarding Misha are scared to death of her.”

Edith tugged the edges of her plaid skirt. “But they’re feeding the master, aren’t they?”

She wanted me to give her hope. They all did. I debated whether I should tell them, but ultimately it wasn’t fair to keep information from them. “They’re forcing him to drink pig blood.”

The she-vamps screamed and collapsed to their knees, clawing at their faces and wailing. The males locked arms and shook each other violently, hollering with fury and sinking their fangs into their arms.

Okay…maybe honesty wasn’t the best way to go.

Tye escorted me away from them and to the doorway, watching them cautiously. The only vampire who didn’t completely lose it was Michael. He merely stood with his arms crossed, grimacing with disgust. “Michael, what are they doing?”

“They’re mourning our master’s disgrace, Celia. To be forced to drink the blood of an animal is the ultimate insult, specifically if it involves the blood from a swine.”

I gaped at Edith, jabbing herself in the eyes. “Is it really that bad?”

Michael knitted his brows tight. “It would be like someone forcing you to eat feces to survive.”

I tried not to gag. “Okay. I get it now.” I took in the state of the other vampires. Their grief was so dramatic, it was difficult to watch. “How long will they continue to mourn?”

“Not much longer. They will take the offense and transfer it into anger, to fuel our vengeance.”

Tye brought me out to the cabin and encouraged me to lie on the long velvet couch. “Let them do what they have to. In the meantime, try to rest. We have a hell of a fight ahead of us…especially if Lucinda knows we’re coming.”

—

We reached Guatemala in six hours. Misha’s latest message jolted me awake just before we began our descent. “Change in plans. We need to land in El Salvador and double back to Guatemala.”

Hank peeked over the seat in front of me. “Shit, Celia. Are you sure? We’re going to lose hours if you’re wrong.”

“It’s what Misha wants us to do.” That was all I needed to say. Hank rushed to speak to the pilots.

Liz watched him disappear into the cockpit. “Why do you think they changed their plans?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tim hissed. “Wherever they are we’ll find them and destroy them for shaming our master.”

I thought back to the smile Lucinda gave me. She didn’t fear us. If anything she couldn’t wait to get her psycho hands on us. “Agnes, do you know if El Salvador holds any significance to Lucinda?”

Agnes thought about it. “It’s where she was born. All the whackos are from there.”

I narrowed my eyes. “My mother was El Salvadoran.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Although she apologized, I had the feeling she didn’t really mean it.

Tye frowned at her, but it wasn’t because of the slight against my mother. “Agnes, do you know if she’s one of those witches who are stronger on her home turf?”

“Technically it’s not where the witch is from, but where she made the most sacrifices. That’s why dark witches tend to stay in one area, rather than migrating to different regions,” she replied.

I dragged my fingers through my hair and swore. “But if she was born there, and she spent her life there, it’s likely that’s where she’s murdered most of her victims.”

Everyone exchanged glances. Tye’s fist knocked on the table. “Celia’s right. We need to stop her before she returns to El Salvador. We don’t want her stronger than she already is.”

Soldiers with machine guns the length of my body served as our welcoming committee when we landed in San Salvador. Thankfully none of the imposing males were immune to the vampires’ charms. After Misha’s family enjoyed their breakfast, we jumped into three awaiting SUVs constructed roughly around the First World War.

The worthless shocks jostled, shook, and rattled us down the highway. The humidity sky-rocketed the temperature to over one hundred degrees and none of the vehicles had working air conditioners. Good thing I wasn’t nauseated and dehydrated from puking or anything.

Tye had handed me a bottle of water upon landing, but I managed only a few sips at a time.

“You don’t look well. Do you have motion sickness?”

I caught a sign indicating our arrival in Santa Ana. “I haven’t been the same since we arrived back from Chaitén. But I’ll admit traveling this much isn’t helping.”

Edith handed me her hair tie. “Here, Celia.”

Next to setting up the unicorn bedroom, that was probably the nicest thing Edith had ever done for me. “Thank you.” I pulled back my mess of curls and welcomed the air against my sweat-soaked body. “That was really kind of you.”

Edith smiled and fixed her gaze on my throat. “You’re welcome. Now I have a full view of your neck! I love how your jugular dances against your hot skin, glistening with sweat and begging me to pierce its yummy goodness—”

“That’s enough, Edith.”

She frowned. “I’m trying to give you a compliment.”

“No. You’re not. You’re talking about eating me.”

“But—”

“Just turn around before I hurt you.”

Edith pouted her outrageously plump lips before turning to face the window. Her long black hair blew majestically in the breeze in true photo-shoot perfection. Like all of the good Catholics she had probably always been beautiful, even before being
turned
.

I admired her exotic looks and yet not much more. Of the four naughty schoolgirls she remained the wildest and her antics disturbing at best. Still, she had a heart and was completely devoted to Misha. She glanced back, likely sensing me watching her and smiled with perfect teeth…perfect teeth that elongated when she focused back on my throat. I sighed, knowing one day I might have to kill her.

Thankfully, she turned away at my glare, allowing me to take in my mother’s homeland in peace. Like in most third world countries, the poverty level was extremely high. None of the women risked walking in public with handbags. The ever-escalating gang violence and crime rate made everyone a potential victim despite their threadbare skirts and faded jeans.

Bright colors decorated the rows of cinder-block homes we passed, bars protected the windows and doors, and broken bottles ran along the edges of the high walls to keep intruders out. It was sad. These people probably didn’t have much, but all they had they’d fight to protect.

Hank pulled over when he noticed a woman selling food on the street. He and Tye climbed out and approached the old lady, completely intimidating her. Beside each other they were night and day. Hank with his dark hair and fair skin, dressed in a polo and khaki shorts, and Tye with his white blond hair, T-shirt, and cut-off jeans. Their long, muscular legs, arms, and torsos, combined with their scorching level of hotness, drew a crowd who watched them with cautious awe.

Hank and Tye bought all the food the woman had. She shoved the bills Tye handed her into her shirt and dashed down the street with her cart before Hank and Tye finished piling in.

“How much did you give her?”

Tye handed me a bundle of leaves wrapped together. “Six hundred.”

I tugged on the tie holding the leaves together. “That was generous of you.”

Tye shrugged. “Someone like her deserves a day off.”

Or the year, given what he’d tipped her. I smiled softly. “You’re not so bad, you know that?”

Tye answered with that infamous dimple. “Nice to see you’re finally warming up to me.” He motioned to the food on my lap. “I take it you know what that is?”

I pulled open the leaves. “It’s
yuca con chicharrón
. Yuca is a root, like a potato. The
chicharrón
is fried pork mixed with a tomato sauce. It’s topped with a sort of coleslaw. My mom used to make it when we were kids. It’s one of the few dishes she made that I remember well.”

The starch from the yuca and its delicious flavor soothed my nausea, so much so I ate my fill. Tye handed me the last package and insisted I eat. I devoured it and finished what remained of my water. “Thank you. I feel better.”

Tye placed his hand on my knee. “I could make you feel better in a lot of ways, Celia.”

I inched my leg away and blinked back at him in surprise. He smiled at me sweetly—too sweetly. I turned to face the front only to spot Hank’s glare in the rearview mirror. “Watch it, beast. She belongs to our master.”

My jaw clenched. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Hank and Edith responded by grinding their fangs. Michael remained observantly quiet, as usual, making me wonder what he really thought. My attention returned to Tye. “Believe me when I say you don’t want me.”

“Celia, I could help you get over Aric. Just give me a chance.” My eyes brimmed with tears just hearing his name. Tye’s lips parted. “Okay…then again, maybe you need some time.”

I crossed my arms and leaned back against the sticky leather seat. “What I need is to find Misha and leave California.”

Tye furrowed his brows. “You don’t plan on marrying him?”

Why was friendship with a master vampire such a foreign concept? “No. I just want him safe.”

Tye leaned against the door and examined me closely, trying to figure out the Sudoku puzzle with the curly brown hair. “You’re risking your life to rescue him. If he means that much to you, why won’t you marry him?”

“I’ve never had many friends. Those I have I’d do anything for.”

Edith slipped her hand over my other knee and beamed. “I find it so sexy that you’re willing to bleed for us,” she whispered. “Don’t tell the other girls, but you’re my best friend, Celia.”

Sweet heaven, please stop me from killing her.
I slapped Edith’s wrist away when her fingertips skimmed up my thigh toward my happy place. “Pull over, Hank. Edith needs to switch seats with Michael.”

Edith angled her chin, confused by my request. Tye and the others coughed in their attempts to hold back their laughter. Michael lost it the moment he sat next to me. The big guy with the deep voice giggled like a Munchkin from
The
Wizard of Oz
.

Thirty miles remained to the border of Guatemala when dread and fear marched from my throat into the pit of my stomach. “They’re in El Salvador.”

“Oh, hell,” Tye said. “Where exactly?”

Michael handed me the map. I stared at the damn thing and searched the surrounding villages. “Misha thinks somewhere outside of Ahuachapán, but he’s not sure.”

Hank punched the dash. “Screw it. We’ll just hit its center and ask around. How far away are we?”

Tye examined the map, our navigation apps were useless here. “Twenty miles, southwest. Take a left at the next highway.”

Michael updated the others via text. Hank floored it, leading the other two vehicles. Even at the speed we raced, it took us almost forty minutes to reach Ahuachapán. Potholes battered the road and we got lost twice. When we finally reached the marketplace the sun had begun to set.

The vamps parked in an alley reeking of urine and littered with waste, but our haste and need to go unnoticed didn’t leave us many options. We scrambled out. There were fifteen of us. We divided into five groups of three. Tye was with me, and yippee-skippy, so was Edith. Both tried to take my hand. Both were denied.

I walked ahead of them, hurrying through the marketplace as shop owners closed down. An elderly woman struggled to secure the rusted lock protecting her stall. Pieces of plastic bags tied her long graying hair and the braids of her little granddaughter. The little girl pointed when she saw us coming and whispered to her grandmother in Spanish. “Look at the pretty Americans.”

I slowed my steps and spoke softly to the woman in Spanish. “Good evening, ma’am.”

Her face carried the wrinkles of a woman who’d lived a harsh life yet she smiled kindly through her missing teeth. “Hello. Would you like to buy some platanos?”