The Romanov's Pursuit (3 page)

Chapter Two

Nya’s new residence wasn’t as nice as her last. There was no ocean view, sunny skies or even a beach, but her surroundings were picturesque nonetheless. One thing she loved about being in the mountains was it afforded her more privacy. There was less of a chance of a random passerby stumbling upon her secret hideout. This rustic cabin, without basic amenities such as running water or
electricity
,
would have been a nightmare to most people who were slaves to modern technology, but she loved it.

Her daily routine consisted of going to the lake to fish for her breakfast. She would then take long walks through the woods, and for entertainment read the books she’d bought in her travels. Sometimes she’d find an injured animal and nurse it back to health. Most times she did absolutely nothing which gave her time to reflect. For the first time in over two hundred years, she was finally free to roam and do as she pleased. But she was a
still a prisoner to
memories that bombarded her daily. It was why she rarely slept, because whenever she dared to dream, she was haunted by ghosts from her past.

She’d lost so much over the years, seen too much devastation. In order to hold on to her sanity, Nya decided it was best to distance
herself from
people. Besides, she’d tried to live a normal life, having interaction with other humans, but then doubt and fear would resurface, giving her a strong anxiety she couldn’t cope with.

Nya walked along the hiking trail until she found her favorite spot to meditate. Taking a s
eat on a moss
-covered
tree
stump, she leaned over and ran her fingers along the narrow stream that ran along the path. She took several deep calming breaths as she tried to fight off the memories that haunted her, but to no avail. Nya supposed this was her penance, to carry them with her for as long as she lived. She closed her eyes and was taken back to a time she tried so hard to forget.

Nya was born into chains, a worker, a servant, a slave. One without free will. She knew loss even before fully understanding the concept. Her father had been the first. Nya wasn’t quite
four
when her father had fallen ill after the wounds from a particularly harsh whipping had failed to heal properly. She could barely recall his face but what she did remember he always seemed
sad
as if he’d given up on life a long time ago. Nya wouldn’t understand until later why he walked with his shoulders hunched and head down as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

After her father died, her mother
Liza
was never quite the same
. It wasn’t
long before Liza was paired with another man, a big, quiet
giant
named Jim. She’d
overhea
r
d
some of the older women saying the Master wanted Liza to produce more children because it was God’s will. There were several pregnancies but none of them resulted in a healthy baby. Liza miscarried three while two more were stillborn. The last baby, a little boy, died minutes after birth along with her mother.

Nya was inconsolable. Her mama had been
one
of the few bright spots in her life. After her mother’s death, one of the older women, whom she referred to as Auntie Mae, had taken Nya under her wing until she died three summers later. While each one of those people had meant something to her, it didn’t quite come close to the pain of her first real love.

“Push!” Mama Tee coached.

She
didn’t think she had the energy to go on. Hours must have passed as she lay on her straw mattress with two women on either sid
e of her, holding her
legs apart. She panted and screamed in frustration, wanting this creature out of her body. It had to be a thing of evil to cause so much pain. Every nerve in her being ached and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was give up and sleep but the wo
men surrounding her wouldn’t
allow it.

“I can’t!” she cried out.

So
meone wiped her brow with a damp
clothed. “Come on, girl. You’re so close.” Mama Tee’s voice, supportive but laced with steel, meant sh
e would accept nothing but her
full cooperation. With every bit of s
trength left in her reserve, she
pushed with all her might. It felt as if her body was being ripped apart but she still gave it all she had left.

Aft
er giving that final effort, she
fell back on her cot, too spent to move. Her chest burned from breathing so hard and her body ached. Her eyelids felt heavy and they were difficult to keep open, but then she was met with the sound of a baby’s wail, slicing through the murmurs of oohs and awes.

“A baby girl,” Mama Tee proudly pronounced.

Everything felt like a
n out of body experience for her
as they cleaned her and the baby up. She vaguely remembered someone coaxing her to push one more time, mentioning something about the afterbirth. People offered her words of congratulations, but there was no joy from the momentous occasion of creating life, in
fact
,
she hated it.

She didn’t even want to hold the baby, but Mam
a Tee stuffed the child in her
arms and insisted she feed it. She shoved the baby away. “No!” she yelled vehemently.

The older woman shook her head and placed the baby in a makeshift cradle beside
the new mother’s
cot. Later when she was alone in her cabin wit
h just herself and the baby, she
couldn’t bring herself to look at the child. What if it looked like the man whom she hated most? She could still feel the things he did to her to make that unholy bundle lying next to her.

Bile rose in her throat as she remembered those fat sausage-like fingers wrapped around her neck and large stomach pressed against her as he rutted inside of her. It had hurt, not as much as actually giving birth, but it generated the type of pain of the likes she’d never forget. And there hadn’t been a thing she could do about it, after all, he was the one who owned her, the one she called Master. She hated everything about him, how he pretended to care about the workers as if he were some benevolent shepherd watching over his flock. She hated how he’d walk around quoting the Bible and using scripture in order to brainwash everyone into believing that the only way they’d get into heaven would be absolute obedience an
d
bending
to his will. What she
absolutely despised about him was how he presented himself as some man-God and judged others for their misdeeds while he brutalized, tortured and sometimes maimed people he didn’t even deem as human.

From an early
age
,
she
was good at reading people. Her mother had once told her that she was too smart for her own good. Perhaps it was why she mostly kept to
herself
because she could always see right through the agendas of others. Master
Randolph
was no different. He was a disgusting pig who had a penchant for doing horrific things to little girls who had barely gotten their first blood. Mothers often hid their daughters behind them whenever he came around, but there had been no one to protect
her
on the day he spied her and decided she was just right to participate in his sick games. The worst part was pretending to like what he did to her or else he’d hurt her even more.

Sometimes he’d choke her and that was the kindest of his acts. Other times, he’d hit her with balled fists if she protested. Once, he’d hit t
he side of her face so hard, she
had had a headache for a week straight. She was nearly sixteen herself, and her only consolation in dealing with him was the hope that he’d eventually get tired of her as he had with the other girls who aged out of his sick obsession with them.

He gave her treats, extra rations, and clothing that was better suited for a lady of leisure than someone in her position. Most of those gifts she gave away.
She’d even been given her
own cabin, displacing other slaves and forcing them to share already crowded spaces. It didn’t matter that she didn’t ask for Master’s unwanted attention or his gifts, but the other workers resented her all the same. Sometimes the other women would stay for a few nights so that the new mother could get some rest, but there were no such offers of aid for
her
.
Instead
,
she lay on her cot, spent, and feeling no connection to the child she’d just birthed.

She
tossed and turned trying to rest, but her body still ached from labor. When the weak cries of the child filled the cabin, she did her best to ignore them. She wanted nothing to do with that thing. But the baby would not be ignored. Her wails became stronger, furious as if to announce to the world that she was there.

With a frustrated groan, she
managed to roll o
f
f her
cot
and stagger to her feet. She’d make the child shut up even if she had to cover its mouth. When she made her way to the cradle, she yelled. “Shut up!”

As if the baby understood her, she stopped. She opened her little mouth to reveal toothless gums. It looked very much like a smile, even though
her
limited knowledge of babies told her that it was far too early for a newborn to smile. Some
thing happened to her
in that moment as she gazed upon this child. Her heart began to swell, and she realized that this baby was a part of her. This was the first good look she’d had of her daughter since she’d given birth. This child was absolutely perfect in every way possible and she didn’t look like the man who sired her.
In fact
,
she looked like…an angel.

With a
sigh
,
she
gently lifted the baby in her arms and carried her back to the cot. Having seen countless women do this, she tugged open her shirt and freed her breast. As if sensing nourishment was ready, the baby made rooting motions with her mouth.
She
gently guided the child to her nipple.

The baby latched so vigorously tha
t it kind of hurt a bit, but she
didn’t mind.
In fact
,
she chuckled. “I see you’re hungry, baby.” She touched the little girl’s soft curls. “I gotta give you a name. I can’t keep calling you baby
, and I ain’t waiting for Miss Mary to do it
. You’re a sweet angel. That’s what I’ll call you. Angel.”

The baby paused for a moment but then continued to feed.

She
smiled. “I think you like that name. Angel it is. I’m so sorry for treating you so bad but I promise to be the best Mama I can possibly be. I will always protect you.” She dropped a light kiss on top of Angel’s head.

The promise didn’t last very long because her Angel was dead before her first birthday. And as devastating as that loss had been, it was only the beginning.

Her eyes burned when she opened them. They stung from tears that wouldn’t fall. She didn’t think she was capable of crying
anymore
because her heart had been broken into so many pieces that there was nothing left. It was why it was best she shut herself away from the rest of the world.

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“For the last several weeks, we’ve been on a hunt to find out the warlock who ca
st the diversion spell that cloa
ked our mate and it was you all along? How could you do this to us? Your own brothers!” Blade roared.

He and Cutter had been le
d on one wild goose chase after another. Cutter had suggested that they start with Giovanni with the hope that he could provide them with a list of names of witches and warlocks who he’d had dealings with over the years and who Nya would also have access to. Giovanni, however, had been of no assistance, stating that he would respect
Nya’s
wishes to privacy. Even after appealing to the vampire’s sympathetic nature, they had c
ome up empty.
Blade
was
frustrated to the point where he was willing to cast a spell to probe Giovanni’s mind, but he realized he wouldn’t have been able to pull it off with a fight. As powerful as he and his twin were, it still would have been difficult to
best
a vampire as old and powerful as Giovanni. Besides, the Grimaldis were allies and considering they shared relatives in common,
they were
practically family. Possibly taking pity on the warlocks, Giovanni casually mentioned, “
The one you seek is much closer to you than you think
.”

After finding a few of Giovanni’s old contacts through their own investigation, they believed the vampire’s clue possibly meant it was someone they knew, or at the very least on good terms with. They got in touch with every warlock and witch who was powerful enough to cast such a spell because it wasn’t something for beginners. Most of those they had encountered had no knowledge of
Nya’s
existence, let alone performing a spell for her.