Page 7 of Dima's Vision
“W-what hitman? I-” I pistol whip him, giggling when his jowls wobble with the movement.
“Come on now, Giuseppe. We both know you have a hitman just waiting to get rid of La Madrina. Well, not anymore. Say bye bye.”
He opens his mouth to argue but it’s too late as the bullet tears through his skull, his body hitting the ground in a wet,fleshy heap. It’s odd how his face is frozen in repose and yet I know for a fact that he’s missing the whole back end of his head. Blood swirls around him creating shapes, twists, turns that show the life he led and why I had to be the one to take it from him. Whispers fill my mind with Giuseppe’s secrets, his dreams, his fears. When I was a child I would cry out, terrified by what they told me. Now? Well, now they tell me things that I can use to my advantage. Things that grow my myth, that make me feared. That keep me safe.
Large black boots enter my periphery as I stare down listening to the soundtrack that was Giuseppe’s sad, gluttonous life. Then I hear a whisper of something grotesque. Abhorrent. Grotesque. Turning to the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life I know my night won’t be ending in the three mind blowing orgasms I was going to make him wring out of my body.
“The man, the one you’re looking for, Glenn?” He nods, blue eyes searching mine. “He’s been providing little girls for this piece of shit.” To make my point I stomp on Giuseppe’s lifeless balls.
“How do you know?” his eyes narrow, trying to get a read on me.
“You say you’re a witch?” He dips his chin, “you got powers or just make potions and shit?”
His lips twitch slightly. “I have the sight. I find missing souls who need to be brought home. Or to kneel. Either or.”
I stare into his eyes, trying to find the lie in what he told me and when I don’t find it I decide to share my truth.
“They tell me,” I look down at Giuseppe. “Or, something tells me. As soon as their heart stops I hear their secrets.”
I peek up at him, expecting judgement? Disgust? Not what’s staring back at me. Awe. Pure awe.
“Ty sovershénna.”
“Huh?”
“You’re perfect,” he whispers.
“Oh.” I stare up at him, gun heavy in my hand and yet all I can feel is warmth, radiating through me, directed at the man-witch gazing down at me. “Do you want to fuck?”
Chapter 4
Dima
My jaw slackens at her question. Did I hear her correctly? She moves closer, head tipped right back, black lined eyes holding mine. She’s so small, her chin almost resting on the center of my chest as she stares up at me.
I would love nothing more than to learn every curve and valley of this woman’s body. Her scent, her taste, how to make her cry out my name in pleasure. I’m so hard it’s uncomfortable and yet I can’t bring myself to answer her. Taking her means something to me. Something more than just carnal lust. In my twenty-nine years of life I have never once sunk deep inside a woman. Not from lack of wanting or even opportunity. I can’t say why I never did. It could have been the intense training I undertook at the hands of differentvedmaand other mystics as I honed my gift. Then I was busy working for the Bratva, using my vision to make the Bartashev’s more powerful. Then I was blind. Now, well, now I save gentle souls who can’t save themselves.
Like La Strega. She came to me in my visions because on some level she needs me to save her. I’m not sure how, or why, but I do know that without me her bright light and torturedsoul will be snuffed out on Halloween night. Well, not if I have anything to do with it.
“OK, OK, a girl knows when she’s barking up the wrong tree, sheesh,” she mutters, kicking at Giuseppe’s limp body. She tilts her head slightly, staring at something on the ground near the body. “It’s always weird how the swirls of blood will tell a story, but piss doesn’t.” she says quietly, almost to herself.
“What story does his blood tell you?” I ask, intrigued.
“That he was a fat, balding fuck with a penchant for little blonde girls.” She stares into space for a moment then shakes her head in disgust, “and sometimes little blonde boys.” She spits on his corpse. She’s fucking adorable. “Come on, your guy, Glenn whatever, he’s the guy providing sick fucks like Giuseppe with kids. Let’s go hunting. Now that I know mycatisn’t being scratched tonight I feel a little extra killy.”
My brows pull in in confusion. “Why won’t your cat get scratched tonight?”
She side-eyes me, “Because you never agreed to scratch her.” She grins at me, clearly enjoying a joke that only she’s aware of.
“You never asked me to scratch your cat?” I ask, following her as she moves to a black duffle bag hidden away near a vat of sugar.
“I asked if you want to fuck, same thing.” She shrugs, squatting down and rummaging in her bag.
“What does fucking have to do with cats?” She tips her face up to look at me from her position on the ground and I have to bite back my groan.
“You’re a weird guy, Dima, but I like that. How about us two weirdos go find the gross fuck you’re after?”
I nod, before clearing my throat. “I never said I wouldn’t fuck you. I was just, ah, shocked.”
