Chapter Two

 

Christoff sat perched in the overhanging branch of an oak tree and watched the man who paced the porch of the mansion. The gypsy had done her job well, convincing the husband that the lives of his family were in danger from a force inside the home. His anxious glances towards the window betrayed his fear. There was no way he would enter the house alone.

Movement at the gate caught his eye. Her. She casually made her way up the long, pebbled drive, either oblivious or possibly uncaring of the man’s distress. This one is a real piece of work. As she came closer into view, his gaze ran over her body, from her luscious curls to her shapely ankles. Her attire left little to the imagination and clung to her body like a second skin. No man, living or undead, could call himself male and not be tempted by her tantalizing curves. Even his own body betrayed him, hardening in appreciation of the most perfect female specimen he’d seen in many, many years. He forced the emotion away. Not this woman. This trollop. She’d set the scene for a seduction. Arranged to meet with the husband alone. She was nothing more than a whore.

She greeted the husband with a handshake, sustaining the grip a little longer than the conventional amount of time. Before releasing it, she stroked his hand, sandwiching it between hers as she told him she wouldn’t leave until he was completely satisfied.

“I’m sure you won’t.” Christoff growled under his breath as he followed them into the house.

“First things first.” She slipped a chain around the husband’s neck and shook her head. “This won’t do.” Her lips pouted, forming the shape of a plump, red bow. “Let’s get rid of this tie and loosen your collar.” She tossed the tie onto the settee and unbuttoned the shirt to his sternum before he could stutter his protest. A brassy looking charm hung half-way down his chest.

“I came straight home from work.”

“Well, you must try and relax,” she told him with a sly smile, as she slipped her hand inside his shirt, tracing circles on his bare chest. “Evil feeds on fear. We must convince it that we are in control.” She lowered her chin, gazed up at him from under a fringe of thick, black lashes. “If the spirits see weakness in you, they may try and control you.”

The man’s complexion paled. “Control me? How?”

“Let’s put negative thoughts out of our minds.” She turned her back on him, but Christoff watched her lips curl into a smile. “Let me think. Where would be the best place to start?” She spun around, the smile gone from her devious face. “Show me to the bedrooms.”

As they climbed the stairs, she asked the man his Christian name.

“Anthony.” He answered automatically. His gaze directed at the room at the top of the stairs.

“Anthony,” she repeated, melodically. “Such a strong name.”

“I was named after my father and his father before him.” Anthony informed her as he stopped in front of his daughter’s room.

The gypsy’s eye’s twinkled. “So, I guess that makes you Anthony Addams the third?”

Christoff’s supernatural hearing detected her whispered, “Ca-ching”, as she stepped into the child’s room to begin her deception. “Do you mind if I call you, Tony.”

“Actually, yes. I’d prefer –”

“Hush.” With her finger pressed to her lips, she silenced him. “I need you to remain quiet while I try to detect the entities in the room.” She closed her eyes, expanding her chest and holding out her hands as if to welcome a lover into her deadly embrace. “Are there any spirits present?”

A gust of wind blew the curtains and the small crystal chandelier swung from side to side. Christoff shook his head. Parlor tricks. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but be a little impressed. She had talent. Talent for knowing the best use of her powers, and talent for choosing the right victims. A chandelier in a child’s bedroom? These people had more money than sense.

She opened her eyes, turning towards Anthony as she told him. “They are angry with us for being here. I feel their hatred towards me.” With an open hand, she fanned her face. “Is it getting hot in here? I’m feeling a little…” Her legs buckled beneath her, but with plenty of time for her prey to catch her before she fell.

Clever girl.

After positioning her on the end of the child’s bed, Anthony rushed to the ensuite and returned with a wet compress.

“Thank you,” she sighed, moistening her forehead and cheeks with the compress. She kept her eyes trained on his face as she lowered the cloth to her neck, then chest, pausing for effect at her cleavage.

When she unfastened the first few buttons of her blouse to pat at the skin of her breasts, the husband’s eyes widened. As did Christoff’s. Despite their size, her plump, tanned breasts almost defied gravity. His fingers twitched as he imagined squeezing the tender orbs. Anthony, gasped and turned away.

The gypsy may not have seen the bulge in the distinguished, Anthony Addams the third’s tailored trousers, but the twinkle in her eye provided Christoff with the information he suspected. More of her parlor tricks. As he adjusted the crotch of his own pants, he wondered, just how far would this woman go?

“I’m feeling a little better now.” She rose from the bed and dipped into the pocket of her skirt. “Take this charm for your wife. I’ll place the other on the dresser for your lovely daughter.” As she moved towards the dresser, her skirt blew up over her head, fluttering there long enough to allow both men an enjoyable view of her ample derriere. What type of undergarment is this? Christoff could hardly believe she would find the garment comfortable. The thin scrap of silk not much more than a band at her waist, completely exposing her buttocks. What was the point of even wearing such a thing? She turned, her skirt still flapping around her ears and he gasped. A triangle of almost transparent white lace, accentuating rather than covering her private parts. White? Was she playing the ingénue? He suspected her innocence had been taken long ago.

“Oh, my,” she squealed, forcing the skirt to behave. “They seem to be annoyed at me for helping you. I’m so embarrassed.” Her hands shot to her cheeks and her chin lowered.

After clearing his voice, Anthony assured her she had nothing to be ashamed about. The color in his cheeks told a different story, as did the bulge in his pants. Something inside Christoff stirred. Something buried deep down for centuries. A low growl resonated through the room. The gypsy’s eyes widened, and she turned her head quickly from side to side. Had she heard him? She shook her head. A subtle shake but there, nonetheless. He’d need to be more careful. He wasn’t ready to confront her, not yet. Not until he’d learned as much as he could.

She moved towards the man with the agility of a jungle cat and reached up to grasp the charm at his sternum. “We must work quickly, using our collective energies. I will focus on the power of your charm while you hold tight to the one around my neck.”

The elegant Mr. Addams the third, gulped as he reached inside the gypsy’s shirt, fumbling at her breasts as he drew on the deceptively long chain. By the time he’d located the charm, his cheeks were as red as the tie he’d discarded in the living room, and her blouse gaped even wider. She leaned into him, mumbling a chant as she pushed her breasts against the charm, forcing his hands deep into her blouse. Forcing her hips against his growing erection.

How far did she plan to take this sham? Would she really sell her body? Of course, she would, you fool. She’d already extorted thousands from this family and that was before she’d established his worth. He leaned back against a wall and waited for her next move. He didn’t have to wait long.

Suddenly, she flew backwards onto the bed, her skirt once again around her ears. Christoff blinked, then blinked again. Had his eyes deceived him? Did the husband push her?

“What are you doing?” she screamed at the man who fumbled at his zipper as he approached the bed.

“I don’t know!” he yelled back. “Honestly, I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Despite his denial, Anthony maneuvered himself between her legs, tearing her blouse open, cupping her breasts, all the while protesting his innocence. She wiggled beneath him, begging him to stop. Pleading with him. It was almost convincing. Almost.

 Anger boiled in Christoff’s belly. Instinct told him to aim his fury at the charlatan, certain she had choreographed the entire situation. She was the puppet master. Despite this, he found himself desperate to annihilate the puppet. Wanting to tear him limb from limb. How dare he touch those breasts? Pathetic human with pathetic human lusts. Surely his love for his wife would have given him the strength to fight her seduction? Has he no willpower at all? No self-respect?

With a shove, she managed to push him away before the situation intensified.

“I’m so sorry.” Anthony sobbed as he backed away from the bed, zipping his fly. “It must have been the spirits controlling me.”

She sat up, flattening down her skirt as her breasts jiggled free of the cotton blouse, tempting Christoff to test the weight for himself. She took her time covering her modesty, tying the ends of her torn blouse in a knot before slipping her feet over the edge of the bed.

“This has never happened to me before.” She informed him, a tremble in her voice. “I think I should speak to your wife about it. Ask if you’ve ever done something like this to another woman. If she verifies your story, I won’t press charges.”

“My wife? No. Please don’t tell my wife.” He begged, cupping his hands in front of his chest. “She wouldn’t understand.”

She rose to her feet and tidied up the mass of curls with her fingers as she pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “I don’t know you or your wife, Mr. Addams but I can’t let this sort of behavior go unpunished. You tried to –”

“Please, Madame Eva. I’m begging you. I love my wife. I’ve never cheated on her.” He dropped to his knees on the floor. Christoff almost felt sorry for the man as he begged for absolution.

“I’ll pay you extra to forget this happened.” Fumbling into his pants’ pocket, he pulled out a wad of bills and counted out four thousand dollars. “Here.” He pushed the money at the not-so-distressed woman. “An extra thousand to forget this ever happened?”

She snatched the money from his hand and glared down at him. “Four thousand? You think my silence can be bought with a measly one thousand dollars?”

“But –”

“Must I remind you, Tony. You had your sweaty palms on my boobs, squeezing them for all they’re worth.” She simulated her accusations using her own cupped hands for effect. “You had your pecker almost inside me. If I hadn’t pushed you, who knows how far you’d have gone.”

He dropped down, sitting on his heels. His hands covering his face as he sobbed.

“I know, I know. Something compelled me to do it. I couldn’t control myself. I wanted you so badly, I would have … oh, god. I’m so sorry.”

“I believe that you’re sorry.” She told him with a condescending pat to his head. “But I’m going to need lots of therapy to get over this. Lots of expensive therapy.”

“Take it all.” He emptied his pockets, spilling hundred dollar bills at her feet. “Just, please. Don’t tell anyone what happened. It would be the ruin of me.”

She leaned down, scooped the notes into her pocket and strolled to the door, calling over her shoulder as she left. “The evil presence has left the room. I will cast it completely from the house on my way out.”

 Christoff shimmered after her as she made her way down the stairs and out of the house. For the first time that night, she had told the truth. Evil had indeed left the house, and, if he had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t be back.