Touch of Evil - Cecy Robson Page 0,34

It’s warmer outside the water. That doesn’t mean it’s still not cold. “I don’t understand what you mean,” I admit.

“If you come a little closer, I’ll be happy to tell you,” he promises. He makes a face when I cross my arms and fail to move. “Fine,” he says. “One of those things followed you to the Watering Hole.”

All right. Now he has my attention. “One of them?” I ask.

He nods, well, tries to. Mostly he just tips forward and ends up with a face full of sand. I give a little nudge with my force and set him back in place. He frowns. “I felt that.”

“I apologize,” I say. “I tried to be gentle.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says. “I felt your hands. From there. How’d you do that?”

“I’m telekinetic,” I explain.

“No,” he says. “It’s more than that. I felt your touch—your fingers or something like them.” He licks his lips. “I can taste you with your touch.”

I thought he was trying to draw me closer. But he really doesn’t know anything about me. Maybe that’s what Misha wanted.

“You didn’t use your hands,” he clarifies.

I glance at the sand at my feet. “I don’t have to. For larger objects or more precision, sometimes I do use my hands.”

“What if—”

“That’s enough about me,” I say, trying to add some authority to my voice. “Let’s talk about what’s here and how we’re getting out.”

He doesn’t reply, his grin demonstrating he’s more amused than thinking twice about crossing me.

I straighten to my full height. Now is not the time to be polite. “Answer my questions,” I say. “What’s here? How many are there, and what do they want from me?”

He keeps his mouth shut.

I should remind him that Misha would take offense if he knew his vampires weren’t cooperating with me. But this vampire, for all he wants a taste of me, recognizes the danger we’re in. His features set. He knows I am his only chance at survival. “There’s three of them,” he says. “Freak witches from what I can tell. Two I can easily kill, if you’d just let me have a bite.”

Great. He’s starting to fall into bloodlust. I lean forward for emphasis and to show him I’m not afraid. Regardless of his tone, I’m the one in control.

“For the last time, you can’t have my blood,” I tell him.

He mutters a few swears. I disregard his rather creative cursing and mull through what he says. “What about the third?”

It’s only then he shows fear. “Can’t win. Not alone. Too strong.”

“There aren’t many things a vampire can’t overpower,” I remind him.

“No. But I can’t overpower them.”

“Them?” I ask. “I thought you said two are weak and easily disposed of?”

“Yeah. I did. If only there was some sexy bombshell of a blond to nourish me.”

“Oh, I see,” I say. “Now I’m a bombshell. Earlier you mistook me for a teen.” I sigh. “Tell me about the third witch. Was she the one who sent that creature after me?”

He laughs without humor and more than a little hysterically. “Honey, she didn’t send that creature after you, she was the creature.”

“She’s a shifter?” I say, fearing the worse.

Shifters are witches who spend decades making blood sacrifices to their dark deities. In exchange they receive the power to change into any animal alive or dead and carry the power of hell within them. If this witch is now a shifter, Gerald is right, we can’t kill her alone.

“I wish.” Gerald cuts himself off when he realizes what he said. “Never mind, I take it back.”

Something hits against the opposite wall, causing the bubble to shudder. The pool expands and deepens, drawing closer to my feet.

“Shit,” Gerald says. “This whole place is going to blow soon.”

A glance at the ceiling assures me he’s right. A miniscule hole pokes through the ceiling, dripping water in the center of the pool. Tahoe is a pure source of magic. Whatever darkness these witches have managed to manifest beneath it won’t last against Tahoe’s power.

“Tell me more about the witches,” I say.

“Which one?” he asks. He rolls his eyes. “The smaller two aren’t right. The other one, the big one is worse, scary worst. These witches fucked up the laws of nature trying to prove a point.”

“And what point was that?” I ask.

He meets my face, unblinking. “That despite how weak their magic is, together they can be just as terrifying as anything out there.”

“They’re Lesser witches with something to prove?” I surmise. He nods. “I don’t