“I always expect your kind to be as cold as ice but you aren’t.” Lottie pursed her lips and shrugged. “A little cooler than a regular person, but you aren’t walking icicles like they say ya are in the movies.”
“That whole garlic thing is a myth too,” Maya said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I do think it smells terrible, though.”
“Me too.” Lottie winked and settled Maya’s hands over her knees. The smile faded from her lips. “I need you to sit quietly and close your eyes. Concentrate on your past or whatever you can remember. A person or a place, maybe?”
“My grandmother.” Maya’s eyes fluttered closed, and the image of her grandmother filled her mind. Long, silver hair swept up in a graceful bun framing a heart-shaped face soft with age, smiling blue eyes just like Maya’s, and the emerald necklace dangling around her neck. “I can see her smiling.”
“Good girl.” Lottie’s voice was quiet and barely above a whisper. “Keep that image in your mind and be still.”
The seconds of silence extended into minutes, Maya was beginning to think this was going to be a big waste of time. But she shut down the voice of doubt and kept her eyes closed and her mind focused.
“You have magic in you,” Lottie murmured in a barely audible voice. “Powerful magic.”
Lottie’s voice drifted over Maya, and the faded image of her grandmother grew stronger and more colorful. The emerald in the necklace glowed brightly and blurred the vision of her grandmother, giving way to a flurry of images, like a slide show of Maya’s past. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
She saw herself playing in snowy mountains, running along a beach and jumping in the waves, and sitting next to a tiny Christmas tree opening presents. A warm glow burned in Maya’s chest that could only be described as love. Pure, unadulterated, unconditional love, and it all came from her grandmother.
The sound of a woman crying wafted into her mind, and Maya saw herself standing in front of a plain pinewood casket on the same mountainside where she played as a child. She placed a single rose on the coffin before the image faded from her mind and reality came spinning back.
“Dark magic,” Lottie whispered as her soft, wrinkled hands squeezed Maya’s hands briefly before releasing them.
Maya’s eyes flicked open, and she swiped at the tears on her cheeks as she regained her bearings.
“That was totally crazy…and wonderful,” Maya said in a shaky voice. Shane looked concerned, but the expression on Lottie’s face was one of wonder. Maya glanced from Lottie to Shane and rubbed her palms on her thighs nervously before asking a question she almost didn’t want the answer to. “What is it, Lottie? What do you mean that I have dark magic in me? Is it because I’m a vampire?”
“No.” Lottie shook her head slowly and stared at Maya through wide eyes as a smile slowly cracked her face. “You, my dear girl, have gypsy magic.”
“Gypsy?” Maya’s eyebrows flew up. She wouldn’t have been more surprised if Lottie said she was part chicken. She let out a nervous laugh and looked up at Shane, who had moved in beside her. “I’m a gypsy like you?”
“Not exactly.” Lottie waved her finger and rose from the couch, wringing her hands nervously. Walking toward the large bay window, she kept her back to them. “Like I said earlier, there are different clans with varying types of magic, and most of the clans kept their magic to themselves. But not all.” Lottie turned around slowly to face them. “I’ve seen that necklace before,” she said somberly. “The one your grandmother was wearing in that vision.”
Maya opened her mouth to tell Lottie it was upstairs, but Shane shot her a look of warning. Wait, youngling.
“Where?” Maya asked, tearing her gaze from Shane and back to Lottie. “Did you know my grandmother?”
“No.” Lottie sat on the edge of the windowsill and folded her hands in her lap. “My grandfather showed me a picture once when he was spinning tales about the gypsy clans, and it was the same story his father told him. Like I said before, all of the clans had rivalries and grudges against one another, but one clan was feared above all others.”
Lottie got a faraway look in her eye, and Maya instinctively reached out and took Shane’s hand in hers. “He told us that we should stay away from that clan in particular because they would bring bad luck and a curse upon our clan.” Lottie looked at Maya with wonder. “Amazing…I thought they were all gone.”
“Great.” Maya swallowed hard and tried not to show how unsettled she was by what Lottie was saying. “Like I don’t have enough problems. What do you mean a curse?”
“Remember how I told you all of the gypsies used to gather their clans together but stopped a couple hundred years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it was because of this clan I’m telling you about. According to the story my grandfather told me, the dark magic used by this clan brought the wrath of the werewolves down onto all of the gypsies. There were random wolf attacks on our people off and on for years, and that was when the gatherings of the clans stopped. After that, everyone kept to themselves and the dark magic clan was considered cursed because its members had encouraged the wrath of the wolves.”
“Well, I guess I’ve lived up to that part of the family reputation,” Maya said with no humor. She sent a sidelong look at Shane, whose expression had grown increasingly concerned.
“He showed us a photograph of a young gypsy woman.” She waved her hand in the air absently. “It was one of those old sepia-tone tintypes, but I can still remember it as clear as day. The woman in the picture was wearing the same necklace as the one your grandmother was wearing, and come to think of it, you look a bit like her.” Lottie pointed at Maya. “You, young lady, are descended from the dark-magic gypsy clan.”
“Can I see the picture?” Maya asked hopefully.
“No, sorry.” Lottie shook her head and looked at Maya sadly. “There was a flood many years back, and I lost almost everything on the first floor.” She looked around and sighed. “I never really did get it back in top shape around here.”
“What was the name of this clan?” Shane asked quietly.
“Vanator,” Lottie murmured.
Maya’s gut clenched, and Shane’s grip on her hand tightened. “That’s what Bella called me,” Maya whispered and looked up at Shane through wide eyes.
“Who’s Bella?” Lottie asked, folding her arms over her breasts.
“A ghost who haunts the Presidium’s offices in New York.” Shane sat on the arm of the sofa and rubbed Maya’s back reassuringly. “She only speaks Romanian, and according to our friend Xavier, it means—”
“Hunter,” Lottie said. “I know.”
“You speak Romanian?” Maya asked.
“Nope. But my grandfather did, so I know a few words.” Lottie scoffed. “Mostly swear words.”
“What significance does the necklace have?” Shane asked. Maya held his hand tighter and waited for Lottie to answer.
“Not sure.” Lottie looked from Shane to Maya. “But at the very least, it represents the Vanator clan.”
“I was wearing it that night.” Maya’s hand fluttered to her throat where the heirloom usually lay, and she turned her eyes to Shane, the pieces coming together. “That night at the club when everything happened with Horace and his pack.”
“Son of a bitch,” Shane seethed. “That’s got to be why Horace is so intent on getting his hands on you.”
“I’m not going to go near him or any other werewolf ever again,” Maya said firmly. However, the look on Shane’s face gave her pause. “Shane? What is it? There’s something else that you’re not telling me.”
“Remember how I told you that Horace still hadn’t left the city?”
“Yes.”