Dark Magic

Sava

“Just one woman,” he answered, his silver eyes molten mercury. He took possession of her hand; he had to, before his body went up in flames. Bringing her knuckles to his mouth, he sighed as he pressed a kiss against the back of her hand, her fingers, her open palm. “Let us get this over with, ma petite,before I change my mind and turn this reporter to stone.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her blue eyes enormous. “You can’t really do that, can you?” She was looking at him with a mixture of awe and fear, with maybe a hint of pride thrown in.

Gregori’s face was completely impassive, the silver gaze reflective. “I can do anything. I thought that was a well-known fact among our people.”

She searched his face, trying to determine whether or not he was teasing her. When she couldn’t be certain one way or the other, she turned and pushed open the door.

Almost at once a man placed himself solidly in front of her, and a flash went off. Blinking at the sudden, excruciating pain of the brilliant light in her sensitive eyes, Sava

Don’t even say I told you so’!

His soft laugher eased the sting in her eyes, but his face was hard and dangerous as he faced the reporter and his cameraman. “Get out of our way,” he warned softly.

The reporter’s expression was wary. He stepped back, breath exploding out of his lungs. “Wade Carter, freelance reporter. I’ve been following Ms. Dubrinsky for some time. I’d like an interview.”

“You will have to go through her press secretary.” Gregori kept moving, his arm protectively around Sava

The reporter had to give way; he dared not challenge the other man. Gregori looked like a predator. A dark, brooding, killing machine. Menacing. He was showing his true nature to the reporter without hesitation. Carter swore to himself, but his excitement showed on his face. “There’s a rumor going around that you’re her husband. Is that true?”

“I see no reason to deny it.” Gregori kept walking, his arm, thick with roped muscles, curling around Sava

The man instantly lowered the camera, his face going white. Gregori’s voice was low and soft, even gentle, but it held such menace, the veteran of many fracases opted for the better part of valor. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, refusing to look at Carter.

“So you don’t deny your marriage. Is it true both of you come from the Carpathian Mountains?” Carter sounded eager.

“It is a big region,” Gregori said vaguely and signaled their driver to open the door to the limousine.

Carter pushed forward. “Did Peter Sanders know the secrets behind your magic, Sava

In spite of Gregori’s restraining arm, Sava

Carter stepped even closer. “You have many secrets, don’t you, Sava

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Gregori’s silver eyes flashed. His mind is protected somehow. I could push past his barrier, but it is complicated, and he would know, and so would whoever has helped him achieve this. This one is very dangerous to you,mon amour. Do not cross swords with him. Let us leave this place. I will pay a visit to Wade Carter at a later date.

He doesn’t scare me.

He should. He is one of the human butchers, and he has targeted you. That damn mist you dissolve into. Julian was always uncomfortable with that.

“I think you know very well what I mean. Peter Sanders found out just how some of your illusions were performed, and you killed him.”

Sava

“You haven’t seen the last of me,” Carter snarled, leaning down to try to catch a last glimpse of her.

Gregori stepped close, his imposing frame exuding power. He smiled at the reporter, a flash of gleaming white teeth. The silver eyes reflected clearly, vividly, in great detail, Carter’s own image. But it was an image of death, of a torn and bloody body falling like a rag doll to the ground. Gregori held the man in his deadly gaze. “Nor have you seen the last of me, Mr. Carter,” he said softly, a black-velvet menace.

Wade Carter was suddenly weak with fear. He crossed himself, his right hand finding the silver cross at his neck. Low, taunting laughter echoed in his head. He couldn’t seem to get it out, not even when the tall, elegant man slid gracefully into the seat beside Sava

He glared after the fading limo, then clapped both hands against his ears. He had no proof that Sava

Every time he had tried to break in to see her props, to study what she did, something had gone wrong. It was eerie. He didn’t believe in coincidence. He might have struck out a time or two, but not on every painstaking attempt. He was a professional; his people were professionals. No road crew or security people were that good. Something smelled, and he meant to get to the bottom of it. Maybe the cops believed the current story, but Peter Sanders’s death frankly stunk. All the truck drivers and loaders had the exact same story. No two witnesses ever told precisely the same pat story. Details always differed. And it couldn’t be a conspiracy; those questioned didn’t all know one another. So it had to be something else. Like memories planted in people’s minds—something vampires could do.

Sava

“He knows about us,” Gregori said softly. “That reporter is no reporter. He is one of them.”

“Who are they?” Sava