Kiss of Vengeance (True Immortality 2)

“Guys, you can’t be in—hey!” Rose yelled as the young woman suddenly accosted her, clutching her head.

She’d moved fast.

Too fast.

No one moved that fast.

Energy tingled along Rose’s head, like bugs crawling across her scalp. She clutched at the woman’s wrists, trying to pry her off, shocked when she couldn’t.

Rose was strong. Naturally so. She always had been. It had held her in good stead during her time as a competitive gymnast through high school.

But this waif of a woman was stronger.

Inexplicable fear flooded Rose.

The woman let her go, her eyes round with shock.

What does she have to be shocked about? She isn’t the one who’s just been attacked!

“What the hell!” Rose shoved her away, and the man took a menacing step forward.

The woman held up her hand, stopping him, her attention never leaving Rose. “You have a block on you. A spell. Someone has blocked your access to your powers.”

Okay, then. Ignoring the woman’s freakish, unexplainable speed, Rose backed away from a person high on something or who took pranking people to another level. Or she was just plain old nuts. “Look, I will let it slide that you put your hands on me without permission and just ask you to leave.” She spoke slowly, calmly, so as not to cause agitation. “Now, please.”

“Don’t talk to my sister like she’s a lunatic.” The man glowered. “You need to listen to her, and fast. We don’t have much time.”

“You don’t know who you are.” The woman gawked at Rose. “Oh God, you need to know who you are.”

“I know who I am, gorgeous, and who I am is a slightly freaked-out bartender two seconds from calling security on your ass.”

“Niamh, we don’t have time to deal with an ignorant human. We have to go.”

“She’s not an ignorant human. Okay, she’s ignorant but she’s important, Ronan Farren,” Niamh snapped at him. She turned back to Rose, irritation changing to earnestness. “More important than anyone else in the world.”

Taking a step back, Rose’s earlier fear returned tenfold. Niamh was either a great actress or desperately believed Rose was the Second Coming. And how the hell did she know her name? Had she asked one of the other bartenders? Probably. Fear wasn’t a usual emotion for Rose, and the fact that this extra from the Lord of the Rings movies was freaking her out pissed her off. “Yeah, you two need to leave. Like, now.”

“There are two paths, Rose. I see them clearly. At the beginning of one, you die, and if you die, the world as we know it will be over. I don’t know why or how, but I know it’s true. The other path, the one where you don’t die, we all live.”

She was so sincere, so believable, a chill cut to Rose’s core. Anger immediately followed the unsettling feeling. “You need to get your tiny ass out of this club right now.” Rose charged toward her. “You think this is funny? Is this some shtick the two of you do to complete strangers? Well, not to me. Not tonight. Go fuck yourself and while you’re at it, get the hell out of this club.”

Ronan moved toward his sister, but she shook her head. “She’s strong, but she has no power. Not with that spell on her.” She bit her lip, studying Rose like she was a high school science experiment. “We have to remove the block.”

“Nee, we need to go. Does she die tonight or not? Because if not, we can come back.”

“Is that a threat?” Rose swallowed, trying to look unafraid as she searched the staff room for a potential weapon.

“No. I’m not here to hurt you and you’d know that if there wasn’t a bloody spell on your mind.” Niamh froze, eyes wide, her mouth open as if in a silent scream. Her head began to shake from side to side in small, frantic increments.

“What the hell …”

“Niamh.” Ronan grabbed his sister, pressing her close and turning his body toward Rose as if to shield Niamh from her.

Uneasiness held Rose in place. “What is happening? Is she seizing?”

He cut her a dark look. “She’s having a vision.”

An impatient Rose threw her hands up in the air. “Of course, she is. Why wouldn’t she be?”

As abruptly as his sister had started seizing—for lack of a better word—she stopped. Her small, elegant fingers curled into her brother’s biceps. She looked up at him, seemingly shocked. “He’s close. We need to go.”

“And her?” Ronan gestured to Rose as Niamh released Ronan and started backing toward the door.

“I understand now,” she whispered, staring at Rose in awe. “Only she can deliver us from him.”

Ronan glanced from his sister to Rose. “Are you sure, Niamh?”

Niamh nodded, a small, strange smile on her lips. “You have to trust him, Rose. Even when he makes it impossible. Don’t let us down now.”

At that, Ronan grabbed his sister’s hand and the two of them raced out of the room.

“Okay, then!” Rose called after them, even though they were gone. “Thanks for the mind fuck, assholes—ah!” She jumped in fright at the sudden appearance of Ivan.

He braced his hands on the door frame, filling the entire space. “Who are you shouting at? Is everything all right?”

“Did you see them?” Rose asked. She pushed past Ivan to glance both ways down the dark corridor. The awful aluminum lighting blinked in the darkness, like it was on the fritz. There was no one in sight.

“See who?” Ivan peered over Rose’s shoulder, deliberately pressing his chest into her back.

She half turned to face him. “The two lunatics who accosted me in the staff room. How did they get past you?”

He frowned, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “No one got past me, Rosie. You sure you are all right? You look … blijeda.”

“Huh?”

He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “No color, yes.”

Deducing he meant she looked pale, Rose huffed inwardly. Yeah. No surprise there.

She glanced down the corridor again, wondering if she’d imagined the whole night, from her reaction at the bar to Mr. Armani Viking, to the strange siblings who’d pretty much told her she was going to die. But not tonight, so yay me!

“I feel like I’m in a very strange dream.”

“What?”

She sighed heavily and strode by him to put her phone in her locker. “Nothing. I better get back to work.”

She wouldn’t say it, but she was glad Ivan walked her out into the club. Her disquiet was strong. Rose searched the vaulted room as she made her way back to the bar, looking for the siblings, for the man.

Was it all just an elaborate joke?

“Of course, it was,” Rose griped to herself.

But joke or not, Niamh had gotten to her. She’d freaked her out, and Rose didn’t want to be alone.

When the club closed in the early hours, Rose broke her own rule and let Ivan walk her home.

2

Frustration seethed through Fionn as he let himself into his suite. The sitting room off the bedroom felt too small for his current mood. He needed somewhere to pace, to vent his irritation.

Shrugging out of his coat, Fionn had flashes of his previous visits to this hotel in Zagreb. He’d stayed several times in the past, always under a different name. His first visit was in 1926. The hotel was only a year old and the first stop for travelers on the Orient Express. He’d been there as an investor in a new radio station. The wealth he’d amassed over the last two centuries was convoluted. To stay out of the pages of history, he’d used false names, and traveled all over the world to make his investments in industries that were booming at the time.

His last visit to Zagreb had been twenty years ago, and he’d stayed in the presidential suite, a sprawling apartment that included a kitchen and staff quarters. Room to pace. To vent.