The mobster who rules Hollywood wants to crown her his QueenâŠ
Evander Bliss rules the cityâs underworld with a gun in each iron fistâand heâll do anything to own his obsession, Queen Trick. Even offering to gift her a huge source of magic she badly needsâŠwith strings very much attached.
This Queen isnât ready to give him the keys to her kingdomâŠbut sheâs running out of options and her empire is at stake with her powers dwindling each day.
Then lighting strikesâin the form of the most powerful, wild, and dangerous man she's ever met: Balthazar "Tsarevitch" Vasilyev. Heâs not just her soulmate, heâs The Natural, an endless reserve of the magic she needs the most.
If only she didn't have to kill him to get it.
The mobster who rules Hollywood wants to crown her his QueenâŠ
Evander Bliss rules the cityâs underworld with a gun in each iron fistâand heâll do anything to own his obsession, Queen Trick. Even offering to gift her a huge source of magic she badly needsâŠwith strings very much attached.
This Queen isnât ready to give him the keys to her kingdomâŠbut sheâs running out of options and her empire is at stake with her powers dwindling each day.
Then lighting strikesâin the form of the most powerful, wild, and dangerous man she's ever met: Balthazar "Tsarevitch" Vasilyev. Heâs not just her soulmate, heâs The Natural, an endless reserve of the magic she needs the most.
If only she didn't have to kill him to get it.
It was striped. Red and white. The tent in the distance that Trick could just make out if she squinted was a big-top circus style, swagged and gaudy and all but irresistible. The sky above it and all around was petrol-blue, shot through with streaks of moody glowing light that occasionally resolved into lighting. Following the path of the bolts of electricity across the town, idly gazing at the breathtaking scene below, her attention snagged on the tent, revealed in a flash of white-hot light. There and gone in an instant. Had she dreamed it?
Despite the risk of getting her acid-green silk moirĂ© gown wet from a sudden rain, Trick was on the balcony of the modernist, milk-pale mansion high in the hills of Hollywood, California. Inside the house, just past the sliding glass doors, a swell of conversationâthe clink and swish of money curling around every vowelâ echoing in sound the ebb and flow of the ocean waves nearby.
Uniformed servers wound through the well-dressed crowd, offering delightful nibbles and champagne one step down from the finest. In fact, now that she thought about it, everything in this house was second-best. The art âin the school ofâ. The gently fading actors milling around reassuring each other that the new generation didnât understand Real Art. The dĂ©cor at least 20 years out of date, and not an arch, kitschy way. Two years ago, she wouldnât have been relegated to the B-list. Threadbare carpets and bathrooms with soap in plastic wrap very obviously put out for guests and store-bought canapes were an anathema to that Queen Trick.
But that was before her power started to fade. Pouting, she turned and leaned back on the balcony, her icy eyes fixed on the crowd. The crowd which was studiously ignoring her.
Her eyes, already almond shaped and cat-like when she wasnât angry, narrowed to slitsâtheir striking almost-neon green irises barely visible. With the hand that wasnât holding a very dry martini she drew a discreet sigil in the air. She smirked with private glee as the straps on an empty-headed starletâs gowns snapped, letting the dress crumple to the ground, and revealing the girlsâ rather shabby underthings.
The resulting shriek was music to her ears.
She took a healthy drink of the martini, relishing the burn of gin. Why did she even come to these parties if she was going to be given only the barest sliver of civility by her host? The answer was across the room from her, draped elegantly on a leather chesterfield, smoking a cigar. Evander Bliss.
Because Evander wanted her here and she needed himânow more than ever. Evanderâs cravat, the same watered-silk fabric as her cocktail dress, was folded into a tuxedo shirt so white it made his dark olive skin glow. Nevermind that one didnât wear a cravat with that type of shirt; that type of social nicety was something Evander took malicious pleasure in flouting.
Just like he was showing up all the dowager countess movie stars and their fat-cat producer and studio head husbands by bringing Trick here in the first place. He raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow and tapped a long, slender finger on his watch. The gesture froze her blood. Time was almost up. She couldnât keep dancing just out of his grasp forever.
Slouching into a cushioned chaise lounge on the far side of the expansive balcony, Trick let the slip of liquor take her back, back to when sheâd been given her powerâand by extension, everything she had now-- by Evander.
âPlease---â the voice of the other witch was crackling with fear as Trick pulled the power from her in huge billowing drafts.
âYou broke the covenant; it is only correct that the power flow to the most deserving witch in the Coven. And that is I.â Trick recalled the grin sheâd worn as she regarded the pathetic woman. Wide, predatory, intoxicating.
âEvander, donât let her do this! Donât you love me even a little?â The womanâs back was to the wall of the tragic little room in the run-down hot sheet motel where the line of black magic ended.
âThatâs been over, doll. Youâre of no use to me without loyalty,â Evander said evenly, his voice hard.
Trick steadied herself and closed her eyes, preparing to take in the surge of powers. Evander stood behind her, his body pressed to hers, his hands on her hips, but she didnât even mind. He was the one who showed her the black line that led straight to the fugitive witch who now cowered before them, and he who had helped her convince the cabal to punish her.
âYou are so beautiful like this,â Evander turned her around in his arms, stroking her face. She was still too high on the power flowing into her, filling her with giddy delight, to resist. Let him keep his word, she thought, in the corner of her mind that was still clear.
It wasnât his looks that were the problem. Evander was killingly handsome, in a terrifying way. The kind of man you want to keep on your side. Because you donât want to find out what happens when heâs not.
âQueen Trick has finally claimed her rightful crown,â he purred. But he couldnât move past certain touches, become more intimate with her, unless she allowed it. Theyâd made that bargain on their first date, such as it was. And for all his morally bankrupt ways, Evander could be iron-hard about keeping his word. Especially to the woman he intended to rule Hollywood with at his side.
He found her on the streets running little schemes on D-list actors and wannabes, shoddy glamours and pitiful love spells that thumped along like a car with a flat tire just long enough to dupe a mark. Sizing her up immediately, heâd made her a deal: go to dinner with him, hear him out, and he wouldnât reveal her to his extensive network for the almost-fraud she was.
âAnd how do I know you wonât just go ahead and do that anyway once you get what you want---if you ever do?â Trick asked him over wine and steak at Musso and Franks.
She was in her armorâher favorite cocktail gown and the highest heels she could still run in. Her hair, tinted bright pink to contrast with her Kelly-green dress, matched her lipstick, gloves, and jewels perfectly. In a town where beautiful girls rained from the sky like maple tree whirligigs in a fall windstorm, she had to stand out. All-green clothing and unnatural hair color was a little gimmicky, and ânice girlsâ wrinkled their noses when she came calling to studio offices, but stand out she did. Let them clutch their pearls while she counted their husbandsâ dollars.
âYouâre a clever one, arenât you?â Evander smiled, his eyes glittering in the dancing candle flames.
âClever enough to know that contrary to popular sentiment, the best things in life are pretty damn expensive. And that includes tit for tatâemphasis on titâoffers from Hollywood gangsters.â
Evander laughed and signaled for another bottle of champagne to a passing server.
âTell you what. I wonât lay a hand on you that you donât want me to. And once I make a deal, I keep my word. Howâs that, Princess?â
âItâs Queen, and weâll see,â she shot back, with a grin.
Trick knew right away that this was a powerful allyâand a more powerful enemy. She didnât like the hardness in his eyes, or the blatant way he looked her up and down, like merchandise.
But she needed money, and she couldnât afford to lose the trickle of trade she had built up slowly and agonizingly into a steady flow over the last few years. Evander was a legend in Hollywood. He ran the town. He and The Family, as he called his band of roughneck enforcers and bagmen and toughs and wise guys, had Tinsel Town wired from the H in the Hollywood Sign to the sparkle in the Graumanâs Chinese Theater Walk of Fame.
And he was offering her a slice of that power, that money, and that comfort. All she had to do was be his moll. His toy. His possession.
The power that sheâd pulled from the betrayer witch was his good-will gesture. Showing her what he could do for herâŠif only sheâd let him. He hadnât counted on that power giving her an enormous leg up and catapulting her into the stratosphere.
She could do almost anything for the starsâand she did, for a while. Cutting their faces without pain or scars to look any way they wanted. Erasing their pasts with complex spells, doling out charisma and luck. And the money poured in.
Walking into a boutique that stayed open after-hours just for her was her first taste of the spoils of war that awaited her. Shortly after, riches tumbled from the once-closed coffers of Los Angeles. Invitations to âan afternoon dipâ in a Beverly Hills estate pool, the water amethyst against a cerulean sky. Walking a red-carpet film premier on the arm of a certain portly movie director known for his stylish, cutting-edge psychological thrillers. Buying herself a sleek little Jaguar XKE and indulging in a vanity plate that read âQTR1CKâ.
Evander Bliss had made a rare error in calculation when heâd led her to that source of power. She didnât need Evander after thatâif she ever had before. But she needed to keep on his good side, and thank God she had.
His ears must have been burning, because just seconds later she heard the creak of the sliding glass doors and Evander Bliss, in all his tarnished glory, was beside her. He lit up a cigarette and affected a casual pose, elbows on the balcony edge, taking in the sprawled splendor below.
Trick was suddenly very aware of the blood running through her veins, thumping closer and closer to the skin. Funny how fear could feel so close to arousal. A wry grin appeared on her face and Evander, as if sensing this, turned to face her.
âTrick, you know what Iâm going to say,â he began, examining his cigarette with more of the same studied relaxation. âDarlingâŠâ
Trick raised her head to the sun regally, not quite ignoring him, but giving him the signal this discussion was very much unwelcome.
A quick as a snake whipping through the grass he was on her.
âEnough with the royal pain in the ass shit,â he growled, the façade of cultivated charm dropping completely. The stone killer sheâd had the displeasure of seeing only once before winked into existence, fully formed before her eyes. âItâs not fooling anyone, least of all me,â he added.
He had a tight, almost painful grip on both her hands, so she couldnât trace any spells in the air, the bastard. So many nights sheâd lain in bed after heâd found her and given her the gift with strings, wondering how heâd known she was a witch. If only sheâd lied or made something up or been savvy enough to deflect and fake her way through that fateful dinner. But sheâd been hungry. For more than foodâfor power. And the power that radiated off Evander was intoxicating. Even now.
He loosened her hand only long enough to take the sunglasses off her face with an almost contemptuous gentleness.
âI made you who you are,â he hissed. âAnd you owe me. You know what I want in return.â
Trick swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts. Fortunately, a party girl that sheâd cut to look like an A-list movie star for Evander wafted by just then, sparking a counter point in her mind.
âAnd I cut girls for you. Not just thatâI made some rather inconvenient people disappear and some rather convenient untraceable Old Master paintings appear did I not?â she kept her voice low with effort. âIâve given you quite a bit in return, so you cut the royal pain the ass shit.â
It was a risk, but one that worked. Evander was used to getting any woman he wanted, either with his money or his looks or both. Having to work for a womanâs heart and body was a thrilling challenge for someone who had come up through the ranks of The Family as a professional gambler. He let her hands drop, countingâcorrectlyâon the fact that she wouldnât likely use serious magic in front of the party-goers. That wasnât his only bet. His certainty rested on the knowledge that her power was fading. The cotton candy puff of a spell sheâd wasted power on moments before-even that- drained valuable currents from her. She was faded, wan, almost empty.
Weak.
All too soon sheâd run out of power entirely. And then what?
Queen Trick's reign as the premier Witch in Hollywood is coming to an end. She knows it, and worse, her 'benefactor' - the Mob Boss Evander Bliss, knows it too. Her power reserves are dwindling, meaning her work is becoming less refined. She doesn't have many left open to her before Bliss decides it's high time he cashed in on his side of the bargain. All that she does know is that she must somehow find another Witch and drain them of their magic in order to be able to keep Bliss away from her door. When a bolt of lightening leads her to the circus tent of a Natural, she thinks her luck may be in - before she realises that he's completely and utterly irresistible.
Darling weaves in a touch of mystery, murder and magic into this sweet, short paranormal romance - with Trick needing to murder fellow witches in order to rejuvenate her powers. Add in the Hollywood glitz and glamour and historical timeline, and you're almost transported to the seedy Los Angeles sunshine. An awful lot happens in this short story and it's packed with all of the tropes. Enemies to lovers, forbidden romance, soulmates, happily ever after... There's also plenty of mystery tropes chucked into the mix; crime bosses, gangsters, living on the edge, dangerous liaisons. And, that's not including the paranormal tropes which crop up; witches are evil, ghosts, nature mages, magical connections, surprise reveal of someone with magical powers... To say it's jam packed would be an understatement. However, Darling has managed to pull the miasma of tropes and genres into a short, sweet and sharp story which will keep you enthralled from start to finish
Queen Trick is witty and absolutely delightful - a novella packed with everything you never knew you wanted from a paranormal romance - and wrapped up with a perfect little bow.
S. A