The Eve of Destruction (The Immortal Ones - Book Four)

By S.L. Baum

Cryptic letter in hand and worried about her missing mother, Eve turns to Charity for help - a call which brings the group of old and trusted friends together once again, to embark on a journey across the globe in search of Genevieve.

Charity struggles to accept the fact that every path in life is filled with obstacles. To get through the day, sometimes you just have to put one foot in front of the other, and accept what comes your way - even as you fight for what you want. A peaceful life? Well, that is probably the stuff of dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.L. Baum
• Release date: Jul 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301395996

S.L. Baum

I have had a love of sci-fi since I was a kid... watching Star Trek with my father. I am such a junky for action packed sci-fi movies to this day... thanks Dad! That love started to include the supernatural/paranormal as I reached my teens. I will always thank Anne Rice and Lestat for introducing me to a whole new genre... and my love vampire fiction was born. When I began writing, I didn't consider the YA paranormal genre. I started two previous projects that I couldn't finish, and I never knew why. But, when I started to write - A Chance for Charity (The Immortal Ones) - the story poured out of me and I loved every minute of the writing process! I still have those other stories, and someday I plan to go back and finish them. I am a crafter by nature! This probably also explains my love of writing - it is in the creative family. I scrapbook, sew, bead, etc... I love to create. I have a room in my home dedicated to crafts. Paper, ribbons, stickers, die-cuts, there is whole mess of supplies! At one time I was in the handcrafted wedding/party invitation business. You should see my kiddos' birthday invitations! My other love is baking, although I don't do a ton of it. Because if I bake it, then I want to eat it! Cookie creation is a fun process. I like to see how many yummy ingredients I can cram into a recipe. So far, my favorite cookie is an oatmeal, coconut, chocolate chip, toffee bit cookie - YUM! I will totally email you that recipe :D On top of writer, part time teacher, crafter, baker... I am wife and mother - the latter being the best job in the world!

Book preview

chapter one

feli(CITY) & mari(GOLD)

Marigold walked over to the bed. She was naked, her skin shining in the moonlight. There is no better way to spend one’s time, she thought. She also thought it was a pity that more people didn’t agree with her. Life would be so much more interesting if people just slept the day away, awoke from a silken bed without a stitch on, and then frolicked in the moonlight. But she supposed there was always the fun of guessing what was underneath the cloth in which everyone adorned himself or herself. What secrets could be found underneath the silk, denim, cotton, and lace garments?

Secrets were good. Uncovering secrets was even better.

Donovan lay on the bed, his clothes rumpled, his hair disheveled, and the side of his face (along with his right arm) was stained red with blood. His eyes were slightly unfocused and his blood bag, Jade, was beside him. Her arm was a road track of bite marks. He must have chewed on every inch of her flesh from wrist to shoulder while he was having his fill.

He was blood drunk. Marigold could smell it on him.

Fix her up, Goldie, he mumbled as he turned over onto his left side.

Marigold’s face turned from a disappointed pout into a bored sneer. She put the mortal girl to sleep and then repaired her arm, even though she had a mind to leave her as she was. If Jade were to bleed out, that would teach Donny a lesson. Maybe if he lost his favorite blood supply, he’d finally realize that Marigold was not a Witch who would allow someone to take her for granted.

Marigold leaned over the bed. Donny boy, you have no idea how close you are to tipping me over the edge, she whispered into his ear.

I’m sorry, Goldie. I just couldn’t resist. I think I had too much, he whispered back.

Of course it’s too much. How many times can you almost drain a girl in one week? You have had too much and I’ve have had just about enough. Marigold turned from the bed. I’ll find my fun elsewhere, she stated, heading out of the bedroom.

Marigold grabbed the thin, black, slip dress that was draped over a chair by the bedroom door and pulled it over her head as she walked into the attached sitting room. She slipped her feet into the black platform pumps with silver spiked heels and silver tips at the toes; she had discarded them by the door to their suite the night before. They would go well enough with the dress, and she wasn’t in the mood to go through her ever growing shoe collection. Marigold slammed the door behind her and then walked down the hall toward Felicity’s room, adjusting the fabric of her dress as she moved down the wide hallway.

Donovan could rot, for all she cared. Marigold was going to have some fun with or without him. Living in Adrien Beauvais’ little castle was luxurious and comfortable. The food was amazing, his servants were impeccable, but her life had become completely and utterly BORING. Marigold was going stir crazy. Her online shopping habit was getting out of hand for lack of something better to do.

No amount of money could possibly be worth my sanity, she thought as she strutted down the hall with purposeful steps. Marigold was in desperate need of some fun, and she’d decided Felicity was the perfect person to drag along with her.

Felicity’s room was in the west-facing wing of the little castle, and it was right next door to Genevieve’s. Adrien had placed Felicity in charge of keeping Genevieve in a constant state of confusion. She had the power to scramble someone’s brain so much that all they wanted to do was follow simple orders, because thinking became too painful of a task. It was easier for her victims to just do what they were told, without questioning their actions. And Genevieve questioned almost nothing at all since Felicity had been placed in charge of her.

Adrien Beauvais, the billionaire mortal who kept a household of Witches to maintain his health and relative youth, was their host and their employer. He placed obscene amounts of money in their personal accounts in exchange for their services. And lately he’d been increasing his own fortune at an unmatched rate. He’d found a few Witches with the power to predict this and that… all of which Adrien invested in without hesitation.

But while Adrien was getting rich, Marigold was getting bored.

Adrien had kept them all confined to the immediate area around his home for too many days in a row. Staying in the same place had never been an issue for Marigold before; in fact she had spent several years in the same city in the past. But Marigold had never spent so much time locked up indoors. Well, they weren’t exactly locked up. There was no key on the door, no armed guards ready to block them in, just money given – hand over foot – cascades of it – in an attempt to keep them happy and in their place.

It was tempting for a while, but nothing could hold Marigold in one place forever, especially not money. There was always a way to find money. She’d lived long enough to know that. Marigold was ready to move on, but she’d have to do it quickly and without anyone’s knowledge because Adrien had Felicity as his insurance policy.

If Adrien ever suspected that his arrangement with Marigold wasn’t going to be a permanent one, he’d have Felicity scramble up Marigold’s brain until she was as useless as Genevieve. And THAT wasn’t going to happen, at least not to Marigold. So she kept Felicity, and Donovan, and Jade, and Adrien, and everyone else in the castle, in the dark. Everyone thought that she was happy and content.

Marigold knocked on Felicity’s door and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. Hey, City.

Felicity looked up from the book she was reading. Hey, Goldie, she teased, using the nickname that Donovan preferred. You look dressed to kill. Who will be your latest victim, I wonder?

I thought we’d commit some high crimes together. You should take a ride with me over to the pub and we can see who needs some extra attention. What do you think?

Felicity checked her watch and then stood up. Let me go next door and give Genevieve the magic touch, she said, wiggling her fingers. That’ll give me a few hours before I need to be back here. I could use a glass of wine. That woman takes a lot out of me.

Marigold sat down on the couch in Felicity’s room. I don’t know how you can be so diligent. Every few hours – day and night – I’d go crazy.

Felicity walked over to the closet and sifted through her tops, trying to find one she liked. "It’s not a big deal at all. This place is really nice. I mean really nice. I’m not scamming from one score to the next. What do you think about this top?" Felicity pulled a shirt out of the closet and held it out for Marigold’s inspection.

Marigold looked at the black beaded blouse and noted the plunging neckline. Yeah, that’s perfect. You can’t catch a fish without a little bait.

Felicity pulled off her t-shirt. A little bait and a lot of my magic touch. This power of mine is only good if I can get a person alone and keep them alone, she said as she took the black blouse off the hanger. I can easily get someone to hand me the contents of their wallet. But if I ask someone to write me a big check or transfer money into another account, they usually end up alerting the authorities as soon as I am out of their sight and the fuzz has worn off. I’d never get caught, my face and name are always a distant memory, but money transfers can be tracked and large sums of cash require a lengthy wait. So it is not always the most helpful power, financially speaking. She pulled the blouse over her head. Are these jeans good? she asked, patting her thighs.

You look perfect, let’s go. Marigold stood up and gestured toward the door. So is Adrien your first long-term client, City girl?

Yes and no, Felicity shrugged. She walked over to Genevieve’s room and opened the door.

Marigold peeked inside and saw Genevieve asleep on the bed. Her slow steady breaths could be seen with the rise and fall of her chest. Before you got here, I had to pump her up with a ton of my healing power. It overloaded her system and kept her confused. It was constant and exhausting. You do a much better job with her. She sleeps quite a lot now.

Felicity nodded her head as she placed her hands on Genevieve’s temples and made slow circles with her fingers. Then she leaned forward and placed a kiss on Genevieve’s forehead. After that, the two of them walked out of the room.

I have her up to about, um, twelve to fourteen hours straight, and she also takes little naps throughout the day. Felicity shrugged again. I hope we can find a red-head. A glass of wine and a lovely ginger to fuzzy up his brain, and have my way with of course. That would be a perfect evening.

I’m sure we can find a ginger for you, Marigold purred, and a lovely blonde boy for me… the younger the better. About eighteen will do, old enough to feel his bravado, stupid enough to do what he is told. Sleep well, Genevieve, Marigold called over her shoulder as the two women walked out the door.

****

chapter two

(PRE)viously

weeks earlier…

Marcus! It’s a letter… from her! Eve called out as she walked in the apartment door holding up an envelope. It’s not addressed to anyone though, it just has the street address of the apartment building on it.

Eve had just come up the private elevator to Lulach’s New York apartment, after having checked with the doorman of the main building and been given her new treasure. Lulach didn’t normally have mail service; a Dark One who’d lived in the same building since it had been originally designed and built couldn’t exactly keep the postal office aware of his continued existence. Letters, packages, and parcels were usually kept with the doorman and were never addressed to Lulach.

Four days had passed since Eve had phoned Mrs. Harrington, four days since she’d learned that Genevieve had sent the old woman a letter saying she would no longer be of service to her, four agonizing days of not knowing where her mother was or what (if anything) had happened to her. Eve had spent those four days overwrought and confused, and had not been able to calm herself down. Marcus had tried to reassure her, but he had his own doubts about Genevieve’s wellbeing.

Upon hearing Eve announce the letter, Marcus looked up from the book he was reading. Well, open it quickly. You’ll never have any peace of mind until you’ve read it, Marcus urged.

Eve sighed as she ripped open the envelope. She’d better have a good excuse for her disappearing act. After all that talk about being glad she found me and wanting to build a relationship with me, Eve said as she pulled the pages out and unfolded them. I can’t believe she would cut off all contact with me for more than two weeks. Eve waved the crème linen stationery in the air.

Eve, it has been exactly two weeks.

It feels like more!

I understand, but I’m just trying to keep things in perspective for you, Marcus admitted.

I’m not in the mood for your perspective. Eve frowned at him.

Marcus patted the sofa cushion next to him. C’mon. Let’s see this letter.

Eve sat down beside him and positioned the page so that they could both read the words at the same time.

Mrs. Prettyman,

My circumstances have suddenly changed for the better, and I will no longer be able to provide beauty treatments for little old ladies who are clinging to a distorted vision of youth, which has long since passed them by. I will no longer be in contact.

Genevieve

Mrs. Prettyman, Eve breathed.

That makes no sense at all. Marcus ran his hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head. Who is Mrs. Prettyman and why would your mother have that letter sent here?

Mrs. Prettyman was the name my mother and I gave to her clients when I was a little girl. One time, when I asked her why she was leaving again, she said it was so she could make people pretty. She promised that after she was finished with her work, she’d quickly return to me. I asked if her clients were men or women, and she told me that she helped everyone to be pretty. I remember laughing, and I told her it would be funny to see a Pretty Man. After that day, whenever she went on a trip, she would just say that she was off to help Mrs. Pretty Man and I knew that she would return to me. It was just a little inside joke between mother and child.

I’m confused. Marcus shook his head.

So am I. Why would she use that name? I mean I already knew she was working on a man… Adrien. But maybe this is her way of saying that she’ll return. And the handwriting looks off to me. Hold on. Eve got up from the sofa and went into one of the bedrooms. When she came back to where Marcus was sitting, she held a card in her hand.

She gave this card to me before she left. Look at the handwriting. I mean it does looks similar, but it is just not the same. Eve handed the card to Marcus for his inspection.

The words on the card were written with a free hand. The letters were large, loopy, and had flourish. The handwriting in the letter was small, precise, and had been written with slow even strokes. It looked almost mechanical, and it certainly didn’t look right to Eve.

The shapes of the letters are almost identical. But you are correct, my love. It almost doesn’t seem like the same person wrote them. Unless her handwriting always changes with her mood, Marcus mused. That is possible, isn’t it?

Eve twisted her mouth in thought. I guess it is possible. This letter just brings up a whole new set of questions, and I need answers. Maybe that is precisely what my mother was trying to get me to do with this letter… seek answers. We need help. I want Charity.

That is probably a good idea. Let’s just go straight to the airport, we can be on the next flight out of here. Marcus pulled out his phone and sent Charity and Link the same text. Coming back 2night. Need help.

***

I was in my bed reading the old, leather-bound copy of Vanity Fair that Catherine had given to me many years ago, it was one of my favorites, when my phone buzzed on the table next to me. I put the book down on the covers and stretched my hands up over my head. Link was asleep on me, I couldn’t move much more than my arms. His head was on my stomach and his arm was across my hips, hugging me tightly as he napped. The sun was at its highest, which meant that Link was out cold. He seemed to need about an hour of sleep every day, whether he wanted it or not.

The only way for him to avoid the slumber was to have a fresh morning drink, straight from my vein. That little nugget of knowledge had been discovered quite recently and completely by accident. Link hadn’t had a drop of blood for days and had been exceptionally thirsty. James was fresh out of juice pouches (I know, I shouldn’t call them that – but whenever Link drinks from one with a straw that is exactly what it looks like to me) so I’d offered up my wrist. His skipped nap that day was a pleasant bonus we hadn’t expected. We’d tried it one more time just to make sure it wasn’t a coincidence. Fresh morning drink equaled no nap the second time around as well. I’d call that a pattern.

I rubbed my eyes before I looked at the phone. My body ached with fatigue. It seemed unfair that Link was napping, and I wished I knew why I couldn’t. Sleep had been avoiding me for days. I didn’t need much, but I sure wanted more of it sometimes. Link looked so peaceful next to me, I was a little jealous.

I grimaced after I read Marcus’s text. I had to assume, if he and Eve needed help, something was wrong with Genevieve. I knew that Eve was anxiously awaiting news of her mother. She’d called the day before, filled with worry, wondering why she hadn’t heard from her. It stood to reason that something was amiss.

A moment of peace for my friends and family – it seemed too much