Chapter 2

Mitch's knees buckled. He collapsed onto the white leather sofa, his fingers digging into the cushions so hard his nails left deep, white scratch marks in the material.

"Mitch!" Brenda screamed, dropping her phone. She scrambled across the rug and fell to her knees beside him. "What happened? Are you having a heart attack?"

Mitch's head rolled back against the sofa. The top buttons of his shirt tore open.

Thick, purplish-black veins bulged beneath the skin of his neck. They crawled upward like the roots of a dead tree, pulsing with a sickening, unnatural rhythm.

A man in a tailored suit, carrying a silver medical case, sprinted through the open front doors, completely out of breath. It was Dr. Evans, the family's private concierge physician.

Dr. Evans threw the case onto the glass coffee table. The latches popped open. He bypassed the stethoscope and immediately pulled out a thick, large-gauge blood-draw needle.

Mitch's head snapped up. His bloodshot eyes locked onto Eloise, who was still standing quietly next to her broken duffel bag.

"Draw... her blood," Mitch wheezed, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "Do it now."

Kylie shrieked and scrambled behind the opposite sofa, though a sick glimmer of amusement danced in her eyes as she watched Eloise.

Dr. Evans hesitated. He looked at the massive needle in his hand, then at Eloise. "Miss Eloise, please. Just hold out your arm. It's for your father's treatment."

Eloise took one step back. She lowered her center of gravity, her feet shifting into a balanced, defensive stance.

"You dug up the protected Native American burial ground in the Hamptons to lay the foundation for your new condos," Eloise said. Her voice cut through the panic in the room like a blade.

Mitch's eyes widened in sheer terror. The mention of the burial ground hit him like a physical blow.

"Those black veins aren't a medical condition," Eloise continued, her tone clinical. "It's subterranean miasma entering your bloodstream. Modern medicine cannot save you."

"Shut up!" Mitch roared, spit flying from his lips. "You're a witch! You cursed me! You did this!"

He forced himself up on one elbow, his chest heaving. He pointed a trembling finger at the doctor. "Hold her down and take her blood! The broker on the black market said I need the blood of a virgin to cleanse the toxin! Do it, or you're fired!"

Dr. Evans swallowed hard. The thought of losing his million-dollar retainer erased his medical ethics. He clenched his jaw, gripped the needle tightly, and lunged at Eloise.

Eloise didn't retreat. As the doctor's heavy frame barreled toward her, she pivoted sharply on her left foot.

She didn't launch a violent strike, but instead shifted her weight with impossible precision. Her foot hooked cleanly behind his ankle, instantly disrupting his balance. He tumbled forward, his own momentum causing his knee to twist violently and slam into the heavy base of the coffee table.

A sickening pop echoed in the room. Dr. Evans screamed, dropping the needle onto the rug as his leg gave out. He crashed to the floor, clutching his knee in agony.

"You little animal!" Brenda shrieked, her face purple with rage. "How dare you assault someone in my house!"

Mitch completely lost his mind. He grabbed a heavy, solid crystal ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it directly at Eloise's head.

Eloise ducked. The heavy crystal grazed the shoulder of her jacket and smashed into the drywall behind her, exploding into sharp fragments.

"Security!" Mitch bellowed, slamming his fist against the emergency intercom button on the wall panel next to the sofa. "Get in here and restrain this psycho!"

Heavy combat boots pounded against the stone steps outside. Three massive private security guards, wearing black tactical vests, stormed into the living room.

They didn't ask questions. Seeing the doctor on the floor and Mitch bleeding from his neck, they instantly fanned out, forming a half-circle.

They advanced on Eloise, forcing her to step backward until her shoulder blades hit the cold glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. She was trapped.

Eloise flipped her wrist. A sharp, jagged piece of raw amethyst slid from her sleeve into her fingers. She gripped it tight, ready to drive the stone into the first man's carotid artery.