Part 7 (1/2)

Emme leaned across the table, wrinkling the crisp white linen. ”D-do you think Genevieve killed Larissa?”

She had waited for our server to leave with our food order before asking. Around us, the patrons of the posh bistro engaged in quiet, polite conversations about the events of the day, not life-harrowing events involving real-life wicked witches and newts the size of Subarus.

I thought about how Genevieve slipped back into the house and darkened the doorway and windows with her own veil. Just before Larissa's screams began. My finger traced down the stem of my water gla.s.s. ”Maybe. But it's none of our business, and I really don't care.”

”Neither do I,” Taran muttered. ”And neither should you, Emme.”

Four days had pa.s.sed since the last challenge. I'd told my sisters Larissa had feigned their deaths, but I wouldn't discuss the details. Emme's healing touch had mended my physical wounds and soothed my emotional ones enough to allow me to sleep. But the velum had been powerful. It would take time for the images to completely fade, especially since they'd manifested from my deepest fears.

”So what happened?” I asked. My emotional breakdown at Meek's Bay had made them tiptoe around me. They'd told me very little, waiting, I guessed, until I was ready to discuss things. ”When I was at the house?”

Shayna and Emme looked to Taran. She shrugged and adjusted the wrist.w.a.tch I'd bought her for her birthday. It was a gesture she often did when she didn't want to deal with the intensity of her emotions. ”I woke up to you tearing my closet apart. I asked what you were doing, but you didn't seem to be able to hear me.” She shook her head slowly. ”But your face- s.h.i.+t, Ceel, you looked whiter than death. You kept, I don't know, acting things out. When I tried to grab you, my hands went right through you, like you weren't really there . . . or no longer real.” She pursed her lips. ”I called to Emme and Shayna, but they couldn't figure out what was wrong, either.”

My glance shot across the table to Shayna. ”You weren't in the kitchen making breakfast?”

Shayna raised her brows. ”No. I'd gone to bed late keeping watch. I was still sleeping when Taran started yelling. You kept saying things, but we couldn't hear you. And like Taran said, you couldn't hear us. We followed you into the kitchen then up to Emme's room. We tried to grab you, slap you-Emme even tried to hold you with her force. Nothing worked. We thought for sure you were, like, gone.”

The waiter dropped off our drinks. ”Your meals will be ready shortly.” He jumped when he caught my expression. Shayna smiled rea.s.suringly at him until he inched away to the next table.

Emme's hand covered mine. ”You were so upset. It broke our hearts to see you hurting. And we knew it was bad, but we didn't understand the extent of your pain.” Her eyes reddened. ”I'm so sorry, Celia.”

I turned over my hand and gave her small fingers a squeeze. ”What else happened?”

Taran tapped her French-tipped nails against the table. ”After playing with the phone you started cleaning. At first we thought you found a way out of the spell you'd been placed in and were coming back to us. But then you found the scroll. And Ceel, that's when a whole new kind of scary beast unleashed. We jumped in the car with you. Shayna barely managed to drag Emme in before you sped off.” She huffed. ”We didn't have coats or anything. You drove us to the bay and we spent the next two hours screaming and trying to get your attention. You didn't even blink when I zapped you with lightning.”

Shayna gulped her water. ”It wasn't until you jumped out of the car and we spotted the Jettas that we knew what was happening. But then we lost you in the woods when Taran twisted her ankle. Once Emme healed her, it took us a while to find you through the storm. The snow clouded everything. Taran couldn't pick up on the witch mojo and your steps were barely traceable.”

Emme smiled softly. ”When we finally found you the s.h.i.+eld was up. But it doesn't look like you needed us after all.”

I rubbed my eyes, trying to stay calm and not think about how I almost lost them. ”Trust me. I need you. All of you.”

Shayna grinned. ”We need you, too, dude. You saved our b.u.t.ts and kicked Larissa's in the process.” She raised her gla.s.s. ”To Celia.”

”To our beautiful home,” Emme added.

”To staying out of trouble,” Taran muttered.

I would have believed her. I wanted to believe her. If only she hadn't winked at the vampire seated across from us. . . .

Read on for a look at the first full-length novel in the Weird Girls series by Cecy Robson, SEALED WITH A CURSE.

Available from Signet Eclipse in January 2013.

Sacramento, California The courthouse doors crashed open as I led my three sisters into the large foyer. I didn't mean to push so hard, but h.e.l.l, I was mad and worried about being eaten. The cool spring breeze slapped at my back as I stepped inside, yet it did little to cool my temper or my nerves.

My nose scented the vampires before my eyes caught them emerging from the shadows. There were six of them, wearing dark suits, Ray-Bans, and obnoxious little grins. Two bolted the doors tight behind us, while the others frisked us for weapons.

I can't believe we we're in vampire court. So much for avoiding the perilous world of the supernatural.

Emme trembled beside me. She had every right to be scared. We were strong, but our combined abilities couldn't trump a roomful of bloodsucking beasts. ”Celia,” she whispered, her voice shaking. ”Maybe we shouldn't have come.”

Like we had a choice. ”Just stay close to me, Emme.” My muscles tensed as the vampire's hands swept the length of my body and through my long curls. I didn't like him touching me, and neither did my inner tigress. My fingers itched with the need to protrude my claws.

When he finally released me, I stepped closer to Emme while I scanned the foyer for a possible escape route. Next to me, the vampire searching Taran got a little daring with his pat down. But he was messing with the wrong sister.

”If you touch my a.s.s one more time, fang boy, I swear to G.o.d I'll light you on fire.” The vampire quickly removed his hands when a spark of blue flame ignited from Taran's fingertips.

Shayna, conversely, flashed a lively smile when the vampire searching her found her toothpicks. Her grin widened when he returned her seemingly harmless little sticks, unaware of how deadly they were in her hands. ”Thanks, dude.” She shoved the box back into the pocket of her slacks.

”They're clear.” The guard grinned at Emme and licked his lips. ”This way.” He motioned her to follow. Emme cowered. Taran showed no fear and plowed ahead. She tossed her dark, wavy hair and strutted into the courtroom like the diva she was, wearing a tiny white mini-dress that contrasted with her deep olive skin. I didn't fail to notice the guards' gazes glued to Taran's shapely figure. Nor did I miss when their incisors lengthened, ready to bite.

I urged Emme and Shayna forward. ”Go. I'll watch your backs.” I whipped around to snarl at the guards. The vampires' smiles faltered when they saw my fangs protrude. Like most beings, they probably didn't know what I was, but they seemed to recognize that I was potentially lethal, despite my pet.i.te frame.

I followed my sisters into the large courtroom. The place reminded me of a picture I'd seen of the Salem Witch Trials. Rows of dark wooden pews lined the center aisle, and wide rustic planks comprised the floor. Unlike the photo I recalled, every window was boarded shut, and paintings of vampires hung on every inch of available wall s.p.a.ce. One particular image epitomized the vampire stereotype perfectly. It showed a male vampire entwined with two naked women on a bed of roses and jewels. The women appeared completely enamored of the vampire, even while blood dripped from their necks.

The vampire spectators scrutinized us as we approached along the center aisle. Many had accessorized their expensive attire with diamond jewelry and watches that probably cost more than my car. Their glares told me they didn't appreciate my cotton T-s.h.i.+rt, peasant skirt, and flip-flops. I was twenty-five years old; it's not like I didn't know how to dress. But, h.e.l.l, other fabrics and shoes were way more expensive to replace when I changed into my other form.

I spotted our accuser as we stalked our way to the front of the a.s.sembly. Even in a courtroom crammed with young and s.e.xy vampires, Misha Aleksandr stood out. His tall, muscular frame filled his fitted suit, and his long blond hair brushed against his shoulders. Death, it seemed, looked d.a.m.n good. Yet it wasn't his height or his wealth or even his striking features that captivated me. He possessed a fierce presence that commanded the room. Misha Aleksandr was a force to be reckoned with, but, strangely enough, so was I.

Misha had ”requested” our presence in Sacramento after charging us with the murder of one of his family members. We had two choices: Appear in court, or be hunted for the rest of our lives. The whole situation sucked. We'd stayed hidden from the supernatural world for so long. Now not only had we been forced into the limelight, but we also faced the possibility of dying some twisted, Rob Zombieinspired death.

Of course, G.o.d forbid that would make Taran shut her trap. She leaned in close to me. ”Celia, how about I gather some magic-borne sunlight and fry these a.s.sholes?” she whispered in Spanish.

A few of the vampires behind us muttered and hissed, causing uproar among the rest. If they didn't like us before, they sure as h.e.l.l hated us then.

Shayna laughed nervously but maintained her perky demeanor. ”I think some of them understand the lingo, dude.”

I recognized Taran's desire to burn the vamps to blood and ash, but I didn't agree with it. Conjuring such power would leave her drained and vulnerable, easy prey for the master vampires, who would be immune to her sunlight. Besides, we were already in trouble with one master for killing his keep. We didn't need to be hunted by the entire leeching species.

The procession halted in a strangely wide-open area before a raised dais. There were no chairs or tables, nothing we could use as weapons against the judges or the angry mob ama.s.sed behind us.

My eyes focused on one of the boarded windows. The light honey-colored wood frame didn't match the darker boards. I guessed the last defendant had tried to escape. Judging from the claw marks running from beneath the frame to where I stood, he, she, or it hadn't made it.

I looked up from the deeply scratched floor to find Misha's intense gaze on me. We locked eyes, predator to predator, neither of us the type to back down. You're trying to intimidate the wrong gal, pretty boy. I don't scare easily.

Shayna slapped her hand over her face and shook her head, her long black ponytail waving behind her. ”For Pete's sake, Celia, can't you be a little friendlier?” She flashed Misha a grin that made her blue eyes sparkle. ”How's it going, dude?”

Shayna said ”dude” a lot, ever since dating some idiot claiming to be a professional surfer. The term fit her sunny personality and eventually grew on us.

Misha didn't appear taken by her charm. He eyed her as if she'd asked him to make her a garlic pizza in the shape of a cross. I laughed; I couldn't help it. Leave it to Shayna to try to befriend the guy who'll probably suck us dry by sundown.

At the sound of my chuckle, Misha regarded me slowly. His head tilted slightly as his full lips curved into a sensual smile. I would have preferred a vicious stare-I knew how to deal with those. For a moment, I thought he'd somehow made my clothes disappear and I was standing there like the bleeding hoochies in that awful painting.

The judges' sudden arrival gave me an excuse to glance away. There were four, each wearing a formal robe of red velvet with an elaborate powdered wig. They were probably several centuries old, but like all vampires, they didn't appear a day over thirty. Their splendor easily surpa.s.sed the beauty of any mere mortal. I guessed the whole ”sucky, sucky, me love you all night” lifestyle paid off for them.

The judges regally a.s.sumed their places on the raised dais. Behind them hung a giant plasma screen, which appeared out of place in this century-old building. Did they plan to watch a movie while they decided how best to disembowel us?

A female judge motioned Misha forward with a Queen Elizabeth hand wave. A long, thick scar angled from the corner of her left jaw across her throat. Someone had tried to behead her. To scar a vampire like that, the culprit had likely used a gold blade reinforced with lethal magic. Apparently, even that blade hadn't been enough. I gathered she commanded the fang-fest parliament, since her marble nameplate read, CHIEF JUSTICE ANTOINETTE MALIKA. Judge Malika didn't strike me as the warm and cuddly sort. Her lips were pursed into a tight line and her elongating fangs locked over her lower lip. I only hoped she'd snacked before her arrival.