And Now You're Mine Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2018 Annie Harland Creek

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-728-3

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: CA Clauson

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Dedicated to my fellow misfits.

  AND NOW YOU’RE MINE

  Blood Brothers, 4

  Annie Harland Creek

  Copyright © 2018

  Prologue

  “I sense the presence of an evil spirit,” she informs the owners after inspecting the three-story mansion. “This will take a special incantation to exorcise. But, in order to keep the demon from returning, a talisman should be hung…” She scans the room before pointing to the family portrait hanging above the fireplace. “Here! This will protect all who abide in the home.”

  “How much will that cost?” The husband frowns at his wife.

  “I’m not even sure I can expel the spirit. It’s very draining.” She shakes her head. “Purging spirits takes a toll on me, both spiritually and physically.”

  Rolling his eyes, the man sighs and turns to his wife. “I told you not to invite a gypsy into our home. She’s a charlatan. Next thing, she’ll be demanding hundreds of dollars to pay for her medical bills. I bet she took one look at our neighborhood and jacked the price up.” He turns back to the gypsy. “Get out of my house, you witch!”

  Smash!

  Three pairs of eyes stare down at the broken chandelier. Shards of glass and crystal litter the floor. The man brushes some of the debris off his shoulders. His wife’s eyes are as big as saucers.

  “Come on, Irene. Surely you don’t believe a ghost did that? The bulb overheated, that’s all.”

  Crash!

  “How do you explain that!” Irene shrieks as she backs away from the broken porcelain vase, ignoring the puddle of water and the oriental lilies strewn over the carpet.

  The man scratches his head. “Must have been the wind.”

  Whack!

  Blood gushes from the gash above his eyebrow as he stares down at the bowling trophy that just flew across the room. His face pales and he holds his chest.

  “How much?”

  “Five hundred dollars.”

  “That’s extortion.” He bellows. “I won’t –,”

  Whoosh!

  Flames surge in the unlit fireplace. Irene screams.

  “Pay her, Tom. Give her whatever she wants or I’m leaving you and taking the kids to my mother’s.”

  Tom reaches into his jacket pocket and draws out his wallet. “Do you take American Express.”

  “Cash only.” The gypsy tells him with a toothy grin.

  Chapter One

  Evangeline sat at the small kitchen table in her campervan separating the day’s takings into neat piles. Seven hundred dollars. Not bad for a day’s work. Ugh! She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Damn, these headaches are getting worse. Blinding light forked behind her eyes. Bile rose in her throat. She took a deep breath and forced herself to her feet. Can’t risk passing out, leaving this money laying around. It was always a risk parking the van out in secluded bushland, but what choice did she have? Fancy, shmantsy neighborhoods like this one tended to frown upon the intrusion of rusty old vans parking on the pristine streets outside their mansions. Who could blame them? Her home looked as much an oddity as she did.

  Pushing her clothes aside, she punched the code into the small security safe hidden inside her wardrobe and placed the money inside. Once secure, she flopped back on her single bed and groaned. Too bright in here. With a wave of her hand, she closed all the curtains. Ah. That’s better.

  She adjusted her position on the worn mattress, avoiding the broken springs as she curled into the fetal position. A gust of cold air blew in through the cracked window. She shivered and raised her hand towards the hand-sewn quilt strewn over the only chair in the room. It flew to her, covering her body, but offering little warmth against the chill that had begun to creep into her mobile home. If she’d had the energy, she would have changed out of her gypsy costume and into her warm jeans and hoody, but, for the third night in a row, the headache had left her too exhausted to change. Had she eaten today? Yesterday? She couldn’t remember. Too nauseated to think about food. Besides, another family had made an appointment for her ‘special’ services later tonight. They expected Madame Eva, not plain old, Evangeline. Just a couple of hours of sleep and she’d be ready. Ready to create enough havoc to drive up the price she’d quoted. Ready to take these new suckers for as much as she could.

  ****

  Under cover of darkness, Christoff Berg leapt the six-foot brick wall protecting the three- story mansion and walked up the path towards the fast approaching guard dogs.

  “Sit!” he commanded them, emphasizing his order with an outstretched hand.

  The three Rottweilers dropped to the ground with a whimper and remained in that position on the gravel driveway as he continued up to the verandah. He glanced up at the security camera and smiled, knowing full well his image would not be detected. No camera had ever recorded his image. None ever would.

  He shimmered into the home, focusing on the honeyed voice of the thief he’d been tracking for weeks. Once inside, he remained incorporeal, as he watched her perform her act of deception.

  “Yes. There is an evil spirit in this house.” She told the immaculately dressed occupants. “Possibly two.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “I can help you, but it won’t be cheap.”

  “You already quoted us one thousand dollars.” The female complained. “That’s all I’m prepared to pay.”

  The gypsy nodded and smiled. “You told me over the phone that you thought you had a ghost. Had I known you had demons, the price would have been higher.”

  “How high?” The husband asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, my price for demon exorcism is two thousand dollars, but –”

  “What do you mean, “but”? The price just doubled. One thousand dollars is outrageous. I won’t pay a cent more,” he told her.

  “I understand.” The gypsy responded with a smile and flipped her long, unruly hair behind her. Hair as dark as her doe eyes. “I won’t waste any more of your time.”

  The owners led her towards the front door. Was she leaving without an argument? Without a sales pitch? What is she playing at?

  “Daddy!”

  The parents ran upstairs, the father taking the steps two at a time while the child’s screams reverberated throughout the house. Christoff shimmered ahead of them and waited inside the child’s room. The little girl sat curled into a ball on her bed, clutching her teddy bear and screaming at the top of her lungs. The bed floated three feet off the ground.

  “Holy mother of god,” the father shouted as he entered the room.

  “My baby!” the child’s mother screamed as she rushed to the little girl.

  The gypsy extended both her arms. “I command you to put down the child.”

  Instantly, the bed crashed to the ground and the mother snatched her sobbing daughter and ran from the room.

  “This is worse than I thought,” the raven-haired beauty informed them with a shake of her head.

  A low growl escaped from Christof
f’s lips and he clenched his teeth. There were no demons present in this room. He was sure of it. She alone caused the bed to rise. She terrified the child in order to extort money from the parents. What type of monster uses a toddler like that?

  Undetected, he followed them from the room and down two flights of stairs, profiling the woman who had perfected the art of deception. Her stereotypically gypsy attire worked well for her and the off the shoulder, embroidered peasant blouse revealed more than a little cleavage. A black leather belt cinched her at the waist, accentuating her voluptuous body. This woman would never walk the fashion runways with the stick skinny models. The curve of her ample buttocks was not quite Rubenesque, more Jayne Mansfield. This was a body made for sex.

  “I definitely believe there are two demons at work here.” She grasped the man’s hands. “We must work quickly before they—”

  “Before they what?” the man gasped. “Do they plan on hurting my baby?”

  “I must warn you. I’ve dealt with these things many times. They may try to possess her. I’ll need to make protection amulets for all of you, get supplies, prepare myself mentally for the ordeal. I’ll be back tomorrow night to perform the ritual.”

  “You can’t leave us!” They turned towards the mother who stood in the doorway clutching tightly to the sobbing child. “Please. Do something!”

  “I will.” The gypsy told her. “But not tonight. You must take your little one and stay in a hotel tonight. Go pack a bag.”

  When the mother ran up the stairs to pack, she turned to the father, grabbing him by the bicep. “Tomorrow, come alone. Things may get violent. I don’t want to risk the child again.”

  Ah. Thinking of the child. Maybe she does have a little compassion. His opinion changed when she finished giving her instructions.

  “Bring three thousand dollars. I only accept cash.”

  ****

  “Too easy.” The gypsy mumbled under her breath as she waved a solemn farewell to the anxious family and headed back to her mobile home on foot. Once out of sight, she let loose a little squeal of delight. Easy money. Once I get that father alone, I’ll pull out the big guns. She cupped her breasts, pushing them up to the point where they almost spilled from her shirt. Works like a charm. Charm? Damn. She’d promised a protective amulet for each member of the household. Each home-made medallion took twenty-four hours to set. Fuck. She slipped her hand into her pocket and retrieved her mobile phone, rolling her eyes as she dialed the dreaded number.

  “Well, hi there, sweet cheeks. Got any new merchandise? Of course, I’m willing to trade, if the charms look authentic.” A shiver ran through her body and she almost gagged. Next time she’d make sure she had enough supplies.

  ****

  “Evangeline. Always a pleasure.” Wheezed the overweight pawn shop owner as she sashayed into his store. “I have something special for you.”

  “I’m sure you have.” She leaned over to examine the drawer full of tarnished knick knacks. As if on cue, the front of her blouse gaped, revealing black lace and plump skin.

  His eyes widened, cheeks flushed, and a dribble of saliva ran down his chin. Charming.

  “Eyes up here, Neville.” She told him with a smile. “Let’s see if you have anything worth trading first.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find something you like.” He promised. His voice bubbled with enthusiasm. “I found some really special designs for you.” His index finger tugged at his shirt collar. The bulge in his pants quivered. “Maybe this time we could—”

  She shook her head. “You know the deal.” With a shrug, she added, “If you’re not satisfied with our arrangement, I could take my business elsewhere.”

  “No. The usual deal will be fine.” He wiped at his sweaty forehead with a filthy handkerchief before stuffing it back into his pocket. “Three charms for—”

  “Four charms,” she corrected with a wag of her finger. “I hope you’re not trying to cheat poor little ol’ me, Neville.”

  “But I thought … never mind.” His cheeks turned the color of a stop light as he hurried to lock the front door. “Shall we retire to the back room?”

  “Whatever you want,” she agreed, swallowing the acrid taste of bile in her mouth. “Oops, slip of the tongue.” She ran a lazy tongue over her top lip. He groaned and clutched at his crotch as he ushered her behind the beaded curtain that concealed his bedroom. Thank god. She sighed. Looks like this will be over quick.

  ****

  “Yes! That’s it. That’s what I want,” he groaned between his grimy, faded bed sheets.

  “How about this?”

  “Oh, yes. Please. That too. Take that off.”

  She closed her eyes as the lacy bra landed beside her discarded shirt on the filthy floor. Yuck. I think I’ll need to burn these things when I get home.

  “Please, let me touch them.” He cried out as his hand jerked beneath the sheets.

  “You know the rules,” she scolded. “Look, don’t touch.”

  “You’re killing me, Evangeline.” He groaned. “At least let me see you touch them.”

  Bringing her index fingers to her lips, she drew the digits into her mouth and sucked, in and out, again and again, before placing them to her breasts. Moistening her nipples with her own saliva as she drew lazy circles around her areola, she tried to imagine herself somewhere else. Anywhere else. Thankfully, as her fingers brushed inside the waistband of her cut-off shorts, he climaxed. There is a god.

  “Just relax,” she told him as she retrieved her clothes from the bedroom floor, fastened her bra, and threw on her shirt, “I’ll just grab my five charms and head off.”

  “Four charms,” he called after her as she raced from the room with her blouse unbuttoned.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I think … no, I’m sure we agreed on four. Hang on, I’ll come out and show you the prettiest baubles. The ones worthy of you.”

  Pockets bulging, she hurried to the door. “Don’t worry, Neville. We both got what we deserved.”

  ****

  The cut off shorts hit the floor of the campervan with a thud as she hurried to the tiny shower recess, stripping off completely before she reached the door. As the hot water began streaming down on her bare skin, she reached outside the cubicle and grabbed her bra and shirt. No point wasting water. Scented shampoo bubbles ran down her body and pooled at her feet. She used her foot to agitate the clothes against the tiles as a shudder shook her body. If only she could wash away the memories along with the dirt.

  Wrapping her body in a terry cloth robe and a towel around her thick, damp hair, she retrieved her shorts and emptied the contents of her pockets onto the small kitchen table. A smile curled one side of her mouth as she sifted through the pile of golden trinkets. Nice haul. Fifteen, no, at least twenty items. She chose three, but, as she brushed the others aside for later use, she yelped. Fuck. That hurt. A red welt began to form and blister on her palm. Hesitantly, she touched the pile. Cold. How could a stack of cold trinkets produce an instant burn?

  Jumping at the alarm on her phone, she soon forgot about the burn as she hurried to dress for her appointment, paying special attention to her makeup and clothes. If he acted on her instructions, the husband would be there alone. A lamb to the slaughter. One way or another, she’d get more money from him. Him with his huge house and expensive cars. He’d hardly miss a couple of thousand. Maybe she could even squeeze ten? Pocketing the three charms, she locked the door to her rundown home. Soon, she promised herself. Soon, I’ll leave this life behind.

  Chapter Two

  Christoff sat perched in the overhanging branch of an oak tree and watched the man who paced the porch of the mansion. The gypsy had done her job well, convincing the husband that the lives of his family were in danger from a force inside the home. His anxious glances towards the window betrayed his fear. There was no way he would enter the house alone.

  Movement at the gate caught his eye. Her. She casually made her way up the long, pebb
led drive, either oblivious or possibly uncaring of the man’s distress. This one is a real piece of work. As she came closer into view, his gaze ran over her body, from her luscious curls to her shapely ankles. Her attire left little to the imagination and clung to her body like a second skin. No man, living or undead, could call himself male and not be tempted by her tantalizing curves. Even his own body betrayed him, hardening in appreciation of the most perfect female specimen he’d seen in many, many years. He forced the emotion away. Not this woman. This trollop. She’d set the scene for a seduction. Arranged to meet with the husband alone. She was nothing more than a whore.

  She greeted the husband with a handshake, sustaining the grip a little longer than the conventional amount of time. Before releasing it, she stroked his hand, sandwiching it between hers as she told him she wouldn’t leave until he was completely satisfied.

  “I’m sure you won’t.” Christoff growled under his breath as he followed them into the house.

  “First things first.” She slipped a chain around the husband’s neck and shook her head. “This won’t do.” Her lips pouted, forming the shape of a plump, red bow. “Let’s get rid of this tie and loosen your collar.” She tossed the tie onto the settee and unbuttoned the shirt to his sternum before he could stutter his protest. A brassy looking charm hung half-way down his chest.

  “I came straight home from work.”

  “Well, you must try and relax,” she told him with a sly smile, as she slipped her hand inside his shirt, tracing circles on his bare chest. “Evil feeds on fear. We must convince it that we are in control.” She lowered her chin, gazed up at him from under a fringe of thick, black lashes. “If the spirits see weakness in you, they may try and control you.”