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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Vlad and Cortes greeted Mrs. Son-Ha and her dog Dexter. A small black-and-tan Shih Tzu poked his head around the old lady’s legs and yapped at them.

“Pipe down,” Mrs. Son-Ha told the Shih Tzu sharply. “It’s not like this is your first time seeing the tiger and the pervert bird.”

Popo puffed his chest out proudly at that. Cortes rolled his eyes.

The Shih Tzu issued one final yip before whirling around and disappearing down the passage to the living room. She poked her head out again, a pair of Chihuahuas, another two Shih Tzus, and a dog whose breed Vlad had yet to determine joining her in her curious perusal of their visitors.

Mrs. Son-Ha squinted. “Well? Are you coming in or not?”

Delphine took the lead when they entered the house.

Mrs. Son-Ha didn’t miss the move.

“Who’s the pretty lady?” she asked as they divested themselves of their coats and shoes, Delphine following Vlad and Cortes’s example.

“My new bodyguard,” Vlad admitted reluctantly.

Delphine dipped her chin curtly at the Shaman. “Delphine Dubois.”

Mrs. Son-Ha’s gaze flitted from Delphine to Vlad. Her expression turned shrewd. “I see.”

Vlad decided not to ask her what she meant by that.

The amused gleam in Cortes’s eyes had him swallowing a groan.

It was bad enough being ferried around by Delphine. Having the Columbian witness his fall from grace wasn’t helping the situation.

“My spirits are quite taken with you,” Mrs. Son-Ha said. Curiosity sparkled in her eyes as she observed Delphine. “They can sense a hint of divine energy coming from your soul.”

Delphine’s shoulders knotted fractionally. “What do you mean?”

Mrs. Son-Ha cocked her head. “You’re one of them super soldiers, aren’t you?”

Delphine narrowed her eyes with an expression that probably made a lot of people quake in their boots. “You know about super soldiers?”

Mrs. Son-Ha waved a vague hand, clearly unimpressed by her threatening stare. “I heard about that Serena chick. And I know about Immortals. You smell a little like one.” She paused. “You also smell of something alien. Something…not quite natural.”

Delphine hesitated.

“That would be my nanorobots,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Oh. Is that so?” Mrs. Son-Ha’s gaze switched to Vlad. She grimaced. “As for you, that’s a hell of a nasty curse you’ve got on you.”

Vlad’s pulse jumped. He exchanged a startled look with Cortes and Delphine.

“I’ve got a curse on me?” he asked, mouth dry.

His mind raced. Though people assumed sorcerers and witches used curses all the time, they weren’t something routinely encountered in the world of magic.

“Not just you.” Mrs. Son-Ha eyeballed Tarang. “The tiger’s been cursed too.”

Tarang made a worried sound and pressed against Vlad’s leg.

Mrs. Son-Ha turned and headed down the passage. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make you kids some hot cocoa.”

“We’re a bit old for hot—” Delphine started.

Mrs. Son-Ha stopped and squinted at the super soldier over her shoulder. “You’re gonna drink the hot cocoa and you’re gonna enjoy it, missy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Delphine responded automatically.

She blinked in the next instant, surprised.

Cortes patted her shoulder. “You get used to it. We think she was a drill sergeant in her other life.”

They followed Mrs. Son-Ha to a cozy back kitchen that smelled of incense and ginseng tea. Tiny bells hung from the ceiling here and there, their gentle chimes causing wariness to creep onto Delphine’s face as she took a seat at the kitchen table.

Vlad sympathized with her discomfort. The Shaman’s place had an eldritch vibe that would make even the Pope jumpy.

Mrs. Son-Ha flicked a light switch and put the kettle on.

Steaming cups of hot cocoa appeared in front of them a moment later.

Their host took the chair at the head of the table.

“So what the heck did you do to get yourself cursed?” she asked Vlad sharply.

Vlad hesitated before giving her an account of what had taken place at the Oro Divino three nights ago.

“A peace deal?” the old woman repeated with a frown.

“Yes. We never completed the negotiations.” The words had barely left Vlad’s mouth when he stiffened.

“That’s another factor we failed to consider,” Delphine said with a faint frown.

“These people may not just be after you and the Black Devils .” Cortes lowered his brows. “They may very well not want this peace deal to go through in the first place.”

Vlad’s heart thumped against his ribs.

Why didn’t I think of that? If that’s the case, then the Lucianos and Wei Chen really are innocent.

Mrs. Son-Ha rose and came over to him. “Strip.”

Tarang’s eyes rounded. Popo sucked in air.

“What?” Vlad said hoarsely.

“I need to examine your core,” Mrs. Son-Ha said impatiently.

Vlad swallowed, his gaze darting to a shocked Cortes and a poker-faced Delphine. “And I have to be naked for this?”

“Who said anything about being naked?” Mrs. Son-Ha said irritably. “I just need you to open your shirt.”

“Oh.” Heat crawled up Vlad’s neck at the amused glint in Delphine’s eyes. He shrugged out of his jacket, undid his tie, and flipped his shirt buttons open.

Mrs. Son-Ha dragged a chair over and sat opposite him.

“This might sting a little,” she muttered.

She leaned in and pressed her hand against his stomach.

Vlad tensed at her cool touch. Nothing happened.

The light flickered, causing Cortes and Delphine to glance uneasily at the ceiling. Glass trembled on the shelves.

The hairs rose on the back of Vlad’s neck when Mrs. Son-Ha’s pupils glowed white.

The same pale light came to life around her fingertips.

Heat flared on his skin, causing his breath to catch. He clenched his teeth when the sensation turned into a sharp, prickling feeling.

Tarang began pacing the floor beside them, little huffs of concern leaving his throat.

Mrs. Son-Ha frowned after several seconds. She lifted her hand off Vlad’s abdomen and sat back, the radiance fading from her hand and pupils.

“That’s a voodoo spell.”

“Voodoo?” Cortes’s eyes widened. “You mean like?—”

“Traditional African sorcery?” Mrs. Son-Ha shook her head, her expression grim. “This is much older. Much darker. It shares some characteristics with black magic but it’s also different.” She studied Vlad. “Someone bound your powers using their own blood. Like I said, it’s a nasty curse.”

Realization dawned on Delphine’s face. She looked at Cortes.

“That’s why the spell didn’t affect you and your familiar. It was meant only for Vlad.”

Vlad’s throat tightened as he held their host’s gaze. “Can you undo it?”

Mrs. Son-Ha reluctantly shook her head. “I’m a Shaman, not a witch. There are only two ways I can think of to remove this spell from your core and that of your tiger. Either you force the sorcerer whose work this is to undo it. Or you kill him.” She paused. “The third way is to find the objects he used his blood on to transfer the spell to you.”

“Objects?” Cortes repeated.

“You mean dolls?” Delphine said skeptically.

Mrs. Son-Ha bobbed her head.

Shit. Blood pounded dully in Vlad’s head in the hush that followed.

“What about Mae?” He met Mrs. Son-Ha’s gaze. “Could she undo the curse?”

“Possibly.” The Shaman lowered her brows. “Your core may need fixing afterward though, like Cortes’s did.”

“We should call her,” the Colombian told Vlad in a worried voice.

“I concur,” Delphine said.

Something in her tone had him looking over at her.

Her eyes were dark with a nameless emotion.

“There’s something else you need to know,” Mrs. Son-Ha warned. “This curse will become permanent in about forty-eight hours.”

Ice filled Vlad’s veins. “What?!”

Tarang let out a distressed yowl that set the dogs barking.

Mrs. Son-Ha reached over and patted the tiger, her expression full of disquiet for the first time since they’d entered her house. “I would call Mae sooner rather than later.”

But trying to get in touch with the Witch Queen proved to be a fruitless exercise.

Vlad stared at his phone in the back of the Range Rover, Mae’s number glowing on the screen as he hit redial for what felt like the hundredth time. The call went straight to voicemail, just like every other attempt he’d made in the fifteen minutes since they’d left Glendale.

Frustration churned his stomach.

Where the hell is she?!

Delphine’s gaze met his briefly in the rearview mirror of the Range Rover. Though her expression remained neutral, he detected concern in the slight tightening of her mouth.

They were working against the clock and they all knew it.

“I can’t get through to Bryony either,” Cortes said stiffly, his phone in hand and Popo uncharacteristically quiet on his shoulder.

Delphine frowned and glanced at them. “Want me to drive over there? I know the address.”

Vlad swallowed and dipped his head.

Hopefully, someone in the New York coven will know Mae’s whereabouts. His stomach sank when another thought followed. If she’s in Europe, it might take her more than a day to get back here.

Delphine had just pulled onto the Long Island Expressway when tension tightened her shoulders. Her gaze flicked from the wing mirrors to the rearview mirror and back again.

“We’ve got company.”

Cortes looked behind them, a gun appearing in his hand. “How many?”

Vlad scowled and twisted around.

“Three vehicles. I think they’ve been shadowing us since Ridgewood,” Delphine said calmly. “Black SUV at our six. Silver sedan two cars back on the left. Dark blue van that keeps going in and out of sight.”

“Got them,” Cortes said coldly.

“Great,” Vlad muttered darkly. “Just what we need.”

He removed the weapon in the small of his back and checked it. Tarang let out a low growl beside him.

“This might be the fallout Yuliy and you were worried about,” Delphine told him curtly.

Vlad exchanged a troubled look with Cortes.

A rival gang out to kill the Black Devils ’ heir made sense right now.

Delphine dialed the guards following them and updated them on the situation.

“Drop back and stay on that van’s six,” she told the driver coolly. “We’re taking a detour.”

Vlad gasped when she floored the gas pedal, twisted the steering wheel, and cut across two lanes toward an exit.