Page 23 of Twilight Longings

“You need to be prepared for the worst,” Jake replied. “It could be just some freak of nature. Some bizarre once-in-a-lifetime virus that has to run its course.”

Saintcrow grunted. “I don’t know which would be worse, a spell concocted by Luca or some random malady. Shit, if we can’t find a cure for it, what difference does it make?”

“Romar? Hi, it’s Izabela.”

“Izabela! My angel. I have not heard from you in decades. Are you well?”

“I’m fine. I have a problem I can’t solve. It involves some sort of plague or curse and …” Her voice trailed off when she heard a knock at the front door. Could it be? A slow smile spread over her face when she peeked through the curtains and saw the wizard.

“I didn’t expect you to come so quickly,” she said, when she opened the door. “Do you mean me any harm?”

“Of course not, my angel,” he said, and produced a dozen black roses from behind his back.

“My favorite,” she murmured, as she unlocked the screen door and stepped back to let him in.

He followed her into the living room, then shook his head as his gaze moved over her from head to foot.

Izabela laughed softly as she transformed into a younger version of herself. “Better?”

“But, of course.”

She conjured a vase of water, placed the roses inside, and set the vase on the mantel.

No sooner had she turned around than she was in his arms. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured, her fingers delving into the thick, gray hair at his nape.

“As I have missed you.” He kissed her lightly, then licked his lips. “Vampire blood. It is most amazing, is it not?”

“Indeed.”

He kissed her again, then sat on the sofa and drew her down beside him. “Now, what is this curse?”

“It’s affecting young vampires, but only those in Wyoming.”

“What kind of curse? Any idea who conjured it? How does it work?

“It renders them inanimate, I guess you would say. They cannot move or speak. I’m not sure if it was made or if it’s simply some unheard-of random virus.”

“And this concerns you why?”

“I have a few vampire friends,” Izabela said, with a negligent wave of her hand. “The wife of one of them has been infected. They think it might have been conjured by a necromancer.”

“Anyone I might know?” Romar asked.

“Luca Sasan.”

“I heard he had been dispatched by a black witch,” he said, with a knowing smile.

“Alas, the spell was broken and his spirit is on the loose.”

“And you are hoping I can cure the vampire in question?”

“If a cure is possible.”

“That is the question, is it not? Where is the stricken creature?”

After leaving Izabela’s place, Kincaid suggested he and Saintcrow stop for a drink at Abner’s Ale House, a popular pub in New Orleans. Kincaid had found it on one of his trips to visit Izabela and it had become a favorite stopping place. They found a booth in the back and ordered a bottle of wine. They were drowning their sorrows over a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon when Kincaid’s cell phone rang. “It’s Izabela,” he said, glancing at the screen.

“Wonder what she wants at this time of the morning,” Saintcrow muttered as Kincaid said hello. Being a vampire, he had no trouble listening to both sides of the conversation.