Chapter 2

Return to Me

Rowan sprinted through the dank dark wood. It was minutes after the witching hour. By sheer force of his power, the trees parted their branches and spindly vines for him, making his path clear. An aerial view of his journey would present quite the spectacle, someone playing dominoes with the tall trees. But this was not a game, and there were no onlookers, only a man on a mission to prevent what was taking place at this very moment. He had to stop her. He had to stop the ritual.

When he reached the clearing, he stopped short. He could smell the water, feel it breathing in front of him. With a flick of both wrists, he returned the trees to their original state. Each tree branch and vine snapped back to attention causing a cacophony of claps and snaps. Rowan hoped it sounded like lightening and thunder so as not to arouse more suspicion amongst his nosey neighbors.

He looked in the direction of the white light that hovered over the lake and walked forward until it was in full view. To the ignorant observer, the light appeared as moonlight reflecting on the surface of the water, but he knew better. He sprinted to the water's edge and waded in. Once he was fully submerged, he began his search for the portal opening to Maya's den. He moved slowly so that she would not be alerted to his presence. Thankfully the elements involved in her ritual gave off enough energy to illuminate the lake floor. This was not a regular lake. It held no flora or fauna. It wasn't muddy or full of organisms. From the surface it appeared as any body of water. Below the surface, the water was translucent and the bottom was made of the clearest glass. The lake was an abyss and aberration with the intent of deceiving anyone who happened by. Rowan maneuvered through its clear depths in search of a seam on the bottom. It was only a matter of time before he found the door, but he was running out of time. Thankfully Maya had set no traps. Finally, after his second pass around the lake bottom, he saw a small seam. He looked at it intently until the triangular shaped door came into view. After he stripped off all his clothes and stood before it, he placed both palms, one on top of the other, in the center of the triangle. He took a deep breath causing his lungs to fill with water. He meditated on the chant. It was impossible to speak it because he was submerged underwater with his lungs filling quickly:

Oray ishi fignyu

Et velruai catharum

Ishi veltai catharum

Et velruai catharum

Oray ishi fignyu

After meditating on the chant three times, there was a rumble and the door gave way under Rowan's hands. It turned, opening just enough to fit his body through the crevice. He knew what was coming so he braced himself for the pain. Rowan was trapped between the door's opening and surrounding wall. A force pushed him inside crushing him between both surfaces. Even though the pain was excruciating, it was necessary to push the water from his lungs so he could breathe when he reached the other side. He bore down against the pain and after what seemed like an eternity, he fell to the floor on the other side.

Rowan pushed himself up on his knees and then to his feet. The woody smell of alder mixed with other earthy scents assailed his nostrils. Alder was a root used in divination. He ran through the dark tunnel. The smell became more pungent as he got closer to the grand event. When he came to a grand room, he saw his wife, Maya, kneeling there in the center with a raised chalice in her hand. She was naked except for a small loin cloth around her waist adorned with cowrie shells. She kneeled before an altar filled with fruit and the carcass of some animal unknown animal. On either side of the altar were two thrones for the deities to sit when she called them forth. She began to sway back and forth and side to side. She began her own chant. Some unseen force lifted her above the floor while she continued to sway and chant. Rowan took action.

He extended his hands to the chalice causing it to come out of Maya's hand and shatter against the wall. The deep red blood stain flowed down the wall.

"Ishi sole ishi destra," he said, causing the altar and any other contents in the room to engulf in flames. He ran to Maya and caught her in his arms before she fell to the floor. The power fueling her levitation was now broken.

"Loi sole ishi extrastra," he said. Water swirled around his feet, growing into a whirlpool that lifted and extended far above them. Rowan squeezed her tight in his arms for protection as they sailed through the tunnel created by the water. They burst through the den and far above the lake until they landed at the clearing just at the edge of the dark wood.

The lake was no more. In its place was a large expanse of charred earth still smoldering. Rowan planned to return later to clean it up, but now he needed to attend to his wife who was unconscious in his arms.

Maya woke without the expected soreness in her limbs. There was always soreness after a spellbinding ritual. She couldn't remember much of anything past the beginning of the ritual. She was in bed. Rowan sat on the bed looking down at her.

"Wa-Water," she said.

Rowan reached for the glass of water on the table. He lifted her up so she could drink. She guzzled the entire glass all at once. It was just water, but her body sprang to life. She moved away from him and propped herself up on the bed.

Rowan looked relieved, then his face took on a familiar anger. "How long have you been planning this? By the looks of the lake and the den, I'd say about a year."

Maya tried to maintain her composure, but it was difficult. "Yes, and you destroyed it all in the blink of an eye. He's found her again, Rowan. I had to do this to save her from him."

Rowan caught one of the tears streaming from her eyes. "Oh Maya, who is going to save Olivia from you?"

"What do you mean by that? I would never do anything to hurt Olivia. She is our precious daughter and the only girl child we have. That monster-"

"Don't start that nonsense, Maya!" Rowan jerked to his feet. "I will not listen to you spew your hatred against that boy and his kind. This obsession of yours has led you to imprison our daughter for over a century. It has been six lifetimes since I've spoken to her such that she knows who I am, who she is, and what she is. You were so intent on preventing their union…preventing her from being turned and for what? Yes, he's found her this seventh time. I refuse to let you interfere, Maya. I want to be in Olivia's life again."

Maya sat up in the bed with that familiar crazed look in her eyes when she spoke on this subject. "But Rowan, it's not my fault that the ritual went wrong back then. How was I to know she was going to fight back or that the Orisha would punish us for-"

"The Orisha made it clear that we were banned from spellbinding rituals until Olivia's 7th iteration was complete. So I don't understand why you were in that den in the throes of a ritual!" Rowan's anger was rising. The lights flickered in response.

Maya ignored it and continued. "When I got word that he was close to finding her this seventh time, I discovered a way to lift the curse while separating them forever. The ritual you destroyed was going to unbind them forever and restore what he changed."

"This is going to destroy our family if you don't leave it alone. There is no way around the curse. It has taken its course and will be done shortly unless you continue dabbling in the affairs of the Orishas." Rowan sat back on the bed and grabbed her shoulders. "Wife, listen to me and listen good. I have accepted this obsession of yours because I know the origin of it. No matter how much you deny it, I know you possess strong feelings for that boy's father…for Victor. You've never forgiven him for the past and that hatred lives on and has taken new life. You've clutched on to Victor even in your hatred of him. You bound our offspring and his offspring together. Maya, this is your fault. I know…you…you won't stop so I will stop you."

Rowan pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "I love you, Maya. This is for your own good and the good of our daughter." Maya struggled against him. "Rowan? Rowan? What are you-?"

"Tomas! Anjel!" Rowan summoned the guards. They entered the bedroom and stood flanking the door.

Maya glanced around in confusion and then fear. "Rowan? What is this?"

"I'm sending you to the catacombs until Olivia is free of this curse. You will be well taken care of, but you will not be able to exercise any of your power during the duration. This is-"

Maya's face turned to stone. "How dare you? You can't," she screamed. She balled up her fist and extended it to Rowan. He ducked and the ball of fire sailing straight for him, but it landed on the thick velvet drapes. The bed rose from its claw-footed posts and started to spin around. Rowan grabbed the comforter and snatched it to him with such speed that Maya flew across the room and into his arms. He held her to him and looked directly into her eyes. Within seconds she had gone limp.

"Take her to the catacombs. I will be there shortly to get her settled in."

Tomas took Maya from Rowan's grip. "Be careful with her. She shouldn't wake up, but one of you must stand guard in case she does. Administer the tincture immediately if she wakes. After what I've witnessed in this life, you should never trust anything 100 percent, least of all anything that promises to absolutely subdue my wife."

Maya wanted to laugh at that remark, but she would reveal her consciousness. Her husband knew her very well. She might be paralyzed now, but within a couple of hours, she would disembowel these two goons and be on her way to save her daughter from the likes of that monster.

"Mr. Mullholland, it is a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance," Fitzgerald said. He looked away from Olivia and faced Patrick who extended his hand in greeting. When Fitzgerald didn't take his hand, he let it fall back to his side."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Grant. Welcome to the High Museum of Art. I would be honored to give you a tour at this time."

"And who might you be?" Fitzgerald addressed Stacia who was standing there with her mouth open.

Olivia glanced at her friend and felt sorry for her since this was the first time she had been under his direct gaze. It could be intimidating.

"Stacia…" Olivia said in an effort to help her.

"Umm…my name is, you know…I'm Stacia Max-Maxwell."

"And Ms. Maxwell? In what department do you work?"

"Um...I…I…you know…I am, you know…the Director of Member Services."

If Olivia's adrenaline wasn't coursing through her veins as if she stood before a Bengal tiger, she would be laughing at Stacia and her, 'you knows' which only came out when she was extremely nervous.

"Mr. Mullholland and Ms. Maxwell…it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I need to speak with Ms. Pope, now, alone.

Olivia liked the lilt of his voice. There was a slight accent that showed up around the vowels. He sounded formal and elegant.

"Very well, Mr. Grant. I'll leave you two alone. Olivia, please check in with me when you are done. I'd love to talk with you as well, Mr. Grant," Patrick said.

Stacia finally came back to life. She glanced at Olivia and mouthed, 'Wow.'

"Good evening," said Fitzgerald.

Stacia and Patrick took that as their cue to leave the room. Had Olivia been able, she would have seen Stacia motion for her to call her later. However, she could not stop staring at this strange man. He stood facing her, separated by an arm's length. His eyes were a deep, glacial blue.

"As always, Olivia, it is a pleasure to be with you."

Olivia didn't respond. She was trying to figure it all out. How was the man in the painting now standing before her? Why hadn't Stacia and Patrick noticed that he was the same man in the painting? Why did she have the overwhelming urge to rip off her clothes and lie spread eagle on her desk right there before him?

"Because we are involved, Olivia. It has been so long since we've made love. I am weak with hunger for you."

Did he just answer my thoughts?

Olivia took deeper breaths so as to calm herself, but it was not working. She closed her eyes, but the vision she saw made her gasp. It was the two of them naked and sweaty moving against each other. He made a move to step forward.

"Stop!" she said, throwing up her hand, "Don't come any closer, please."

He took a step back. "Please have a seat, Mr. Grant. I don't know what is going on here, but you need to take a seat."

He sat in the armchair facing her desk. Olivia would have asked to take his coat, but she felt uneasy about him undressing at all in her presence.

She sat at her desk, thankful for the separation. "First things first, Mr. Grant. Let's deal with why you are here. There is the issue of the book I misplaced-"

"I am here for you, Olivia. You and you only. The book was a mere pretense. The time is far spent. We need to leave before…before…. We need to leave." Olivia didn't like the way he sounded. His voice was cold and his words, ominous.

"Mr. Grant, I have no idea what you are talking about. You are here because I could not find-"

"Look in your desk drawer."

Olivia frowned at him. She opened her desk drawer, and the book was there, sitting where she had placed it."

"Is this some kind of last day on the job prank? Are you pretending to be the man in the painting?" she said. Olivia was angry now. "You know what? Please just leave."

"The man in what painting?" he said.

"The one right over there.." Olivia pointed to the wall. There was a painting there, but it was, The Starry Night.

"But it was just there…"

"Olivia, my darling, I need you. You need me. It's been…too long."

"Could you stop saying that, you pervert? Someone is liable to hear you."

Fitz flung his hand back toward the door. It shut and then locked on its own accord.

"What did you? How did you?" Olivia said. She looked between him and the door and then shook her head from side to side, "You need to leave. I don't know what you did to get me to do those things…but…you need to leave."

"By things do you mean all those nights you pleasured yourself in that chair? I didn't make you do anything. You never liked to masturbate unless I watched, Olivia. Since I couldn't come for you until today, I thought I would have some enjoyment as a greeting of sorts." Fitzgerald was standing now. Olivia didn't remember seeing him stand.

"Who in the hell are you? You don't know anything about me and you come in here…"

"I have a small wager for you." He walked around the desk. She was now standing too. She didn't remember standing.

"What?"

"I'll bet you one kiss that you can't sit with me for one minute without pleasuring yourself."

"Of all the twisted…You must think I'm some sort of sex-crazed freak, but-"

He grabbed her hand. Something popped against her skin as if she had been shocked. She snatched her hand back. "You're right. I can't touch you until you give me permission." He didn't try to touch her again, but he didn't move back. He looked at her with an expression she could only understand as adoring.

"Olivia, I think no such thing. Let's just sit, okay? If you win the bet, I'll leave. Do we have a deal?"

Ready to be done with this peculiar ordeal, Olivia nodded. When am I going to wake up? This has to be a dream. All I have to do is not masturbate? That's easy enough.

Olivia saw him grin. It's like he can read my thoughts.

Olivia, trust me.

"What did you say?" She heard his voice in her thoughts again.

"Nothing. I said, nothing."

Before she could respond, he carried her office chair around her desk and set it directly in front of his. "Do you mind if I remove my coat?"

"Fine." But it wasn't fine for Olivia. He not only removed his coat, but also his suit jacket. He walked back to her wearing a black vest over a crisp white shirt and black trousers. For some reason, that vest was too much. She was starting to feel uncomfortable.

He sat down before her and the torture began. He held no expression, really. He just looked at her with those deep, glacial blue eyes. He squared his shoulders, making him seem big and boxy in the chair. He crossed his legs in the way that men do, foot propped on knee. One hand rested on his knee and the other on his thigh.

Olivia felt small in her chair. Her legs were crossed and her arms were crossed over her chest. Her shoulders and head were bowed slightly. She glanced at the clock. How long has it been? We must be close to a minute.

No, it's been 15 seconds.

She scowled at him, but did not take her eyes away. I can do this. Olivia took a deep breath and stared. Shortly, she felt the silence in the room except for their breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Her eyes began to roam around his face.

Inhale.

His thick mat of dark hair…

Exhale.

His square jaw…

Inhale.

The ridge of his nose…

Exhale.

The grin on his face…

Inhale.

When her eyes came open, she realized they had been closed. That was not all. While she remained dressed, she was anything but decent. Her heeled feet were propped on the edge of her office chair and her thighs were spread in a way that had forced her skirt up her thighs. She was leaning back in the office chair with one arm clutching the back. Her other hand was inside the waistband of her panties.

Olivia had no thoughts or words only acknowledgement before she pushed her hand to its intended target between her legs.

"Ah…" When fingers met the swollen, wet, pulsating flesh between her legs all she could do was moan. The knowledge that this strange man sat so close while she did this to herself, emboldened her.

She closed her eyes and caressed her opening with two fingers, then three, and then four. From the hood of her clitoris to the bottom of her opening, she massaged. She increased the pressure to create more friction and started to feel that feeling like she was going to break open. By now she was writhing around in the chair like she was in pain, but she was feeling the opposite. She was moaning loudly now.

"Inside," he said.

She stuck all four fingers inside and ground them against herself as fast as she could. Finally she felt the sensation she was looking for. She gripped the chair and rode it to the end.

Olivia didn't know how many minutes had passed when she opened her eyes. Fitzgerald was still sitting in his chair staring at her. Her thighs hurt. She couldn't move them because her high heels were stuck in the chair. She pulled her arm around and moved her hand from between her legs. Fitzgerald pulled one and then the other high-heeled foot from the chair. Their knees touched. Olivia couldn't look at him. Her eyes settled on his lap and the big bulge there. She looked back at him.

"May I?" he asked.

Olivia nodded, but she didn't know what she was agreeing to.

He reached forward and took her hand. This was the one she had used to massage herself. He pressed her fingers to his nose and breathed in her scent. Inhale. Exhale. Then he sucked each finger one at a time.

"May I kiss you now?"

Olivia nodded again.

Olivia was sure about only one thing: Her absolute willingness to allow this man to do whatever he pleased with her body.

He pulled her over to him and took her lips in an all consuming kiss. He felt good against her sweaty body. He was coolness to her heat, hardness to her softness.

"Do you accept me into your life, Olivia?" he whispered into her ear.

She opened her eyes and gasped in shock. No longer was she on his lap. Instead, they were sitting on top of her desk, in the center of the room, completely naked. It was surreal. They were surrounded by a ring of fire casting soft shadows against their skin and the surfaces in the room. She sat on his lap, facing him with her legs straddling his waist. His turgid manhood pressed against her stomach like a hot poker. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it, unsure if she could take it all in. I'm going to give it my best try.

Fitzgerald chuckled, "Answer my question, Olivia. You have to accept before I can make you mine…again…for this final time."

Her arms hung loosely around his shoulders. His hand gripped her hips. Olivia considered his words. She was convinced that she was starring in the best dream she'd ever had. She knew she would wake up at some point. Until then, she wanted everything he had to give. Her eyes ran greedily over him. She let her hands move over his wide shoulders, down his sculpted arms, and across his hairy chest. Her fingers waded through his chest hair, and then reconnected behind his neck.

"Yes, Fitzgerald. I accept you."

His mouth spread into a wide grin revealing the fangs on either side of his mouth. Olivia gasped when she saw them, but it was too late. She had consented. In one fell swoop, he lifted her up to sheath his manhood while simultaneously sinking his sharp fangs into the rise of her neck. Her head fell back sharply as the intense pain burned her through to the core. Twin streams of blood flowed out of the tiny holes. She was frozen. Unable to scream or protest, she could only feel. Burning. Fire. Heat. Smolder. Chilling. Coldness.

She pulled her head forward releasing its unnatural arch, her irises now a brilliant red, peered into his.

"Fuck me," she demanded.

As she lay on her back, absorbing his strokes, she thought of nothing but the moment.