Waving her hands dismissively, Bertie replied, “You know. Here. There. Everywhere. Would you like something to eat? You must be starving.”
“I’d like an answer to my question. Where the hell am I?” Dylan groused, undeterred by Bertie’s coyness.
Plastering a fake smile on her face that would have made a Cheshire cat proud, Bertie looped her arm through Dillen’s and led them down the path near the vegetable garden. “I’ll make a deal with you Dillen. If you’ll have lunch with me, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Desperate for answers, Dillen simply nodded in agreement and let Bertie lead the way. Once they passed the pear trees, the area opened up to reveal a beautiful historical manor that looked more like it should have been in New England, instead of the middle of nowhere. On the left there was a rose garden and on the right there was an arched pergola made out of California Redwood. At one end there was a brick fireplace with comfortable, white sofas with red and green pillows placed in front it. At the other end, there was a kitchen area that contained an outdoor grill that would have made any grill master envious, a refrigerator stocked full of wine and prep area for the cook. In the center, there was a dining table large enough to seat eight people. The pergola was decorated with fairy lights, which at night, probably gave it a majestic feel.
Once they were seated and the staff had poured them each a glass of wine, Bertie decided to make a toast. “To new friendships. May they bring me… I mean us, everything we desire.”
* * *
Dillen studied the beautiful redhead in front of him. The silky red locks cascading down her back in waves reminded him of Cecelia. Goddess he missed her, in spite of the fact the damn woman ran from him every chance she got. He vowed right then and there that if he ever got out of this mess, he was going to claim what was rightfully his. They’d pussyfooted around one another long enough. They were meant to be together for all eternity. He knew it. The Goddess knew it. The Fates knew it. Hell, everyone in town seemed to know it except Cecelia. But that was all going to change, once he returned to Bass Ackwards. He’d spend the rest of his life proving how much he loved her because life without her wasn’t a life at all. He knew that now. It took his world being turned upside down for him to realize that life was too short not to spend it with your heart’s desire. Lost in thought and a mountain of regret, Dillen hadn’t heard Bertie speak.
“Dillen, I asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked where you were from,” Bertie replied.
“I’m from a small town in Tennessee. You wouldn’t know it. It’s a small community near the Smoky Mountains, but I like it there. What about yourself?”
“Oh. I’m from a small town in Tennessee, as well. You’ve probably never heard of it.”
“Try me,” Dillen encouraged.
“Okay. I’ll play along. If you’ve heard of my small town, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. If you haven’t, I get to ask you about questions for the rest of lunch. Deal?”
Dillen knew that it was a risk, but what other choice did he have. He needed to get home and soon. There was trouble brewing. His lion could feel it. So, against his better judgement, he agreed to Bertie’s challenge. “Deal. Lay it on me.”
“Oh, goodie,” Bertie exclaimed, as she bounced up and down in her seat.
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, darling.”
“I like that.”
“Like what?”
“The way you just called me darling.”
“Uh, Bertie. I need to be upfront with you. I’m already spoken for. If my endearment led you on, I apologize, as that was not my intent.”
Bertie sighed deeply. “I’m not surprised. All the goods are either gay, dead, or taken. Just my luck. No worries, Dillen. We’re good.”
“Good. I’m glad,” Dillen said, letting out a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted to do was lead such a nice lady on. Not to mention, she was his only chance of getting out of this garden. When they both visibly relaxed, he spoke again. “Now that that’s settled, quit stalling and tell me where you’re from.”
“Fine. If you insist, I’ll tell you. I’m from Boner Falls, Tennessee.”
Dillen couldn’t stop the wine spewing out of his mouth. He wasn’t the only one who had been momentarily shocked by Bertie’s announcement. Their server had dropped the appetizers. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He was amazed that she could say it with a straight face.
“Of course. I wouldn’t joke about a thing like that,” Bertie replied, incredulously.
“Bertie, I’ve lived in Tennessee all my life and I’ve never, ever heard of a town called Boner Falls, Tennessee.”
“See, I told you so,” Bertie said with a smug smile. This wasn’t her first time around the block. She knew how to entice a man. Hell, she’d managed to entice every man, who temporarily appeared in this hell hole of a place. She just hoped that unlike the others, Dylan would be her ticket to freedom.
Holding up his hands in surrender, Dillen smiled and said, “You win. Ask me anything you like.”
Before Dillen could respond, the cute brunette waitress who had cleaned up the wine he’s spewed everywhere lost her balance and spilled cold Walter on his pants.
“You imbecile,” Bertie yelled. “How dare you embarrass me in front of a guest? Clean up your mess and leave us,” she demanded.
Dillen was taken aback by the venomous words spewing from Bertie‘s mouth. It seemed that the woman had a mean streak a mile long and had no problem taking it out on her servants, which left a foul taste in his mouth. In an effort to put the young lady at ease, he tried to assure her that everything was okay. When he bent down to help the young woman pick up the water pitcher and serving tray, it only enraged Bertie more, but he didn’t care.
“Don’t trust her. She’s dangerous and intends to trick you into doing her bidding. Things aren’t what they seem,” the young woman whispered under her breath.
Nodding his head in understanding, Dillen stood and watched the young woman scurry away. He had no idea who she was, but he would definitely heed her warning. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach returned with a vengeance. He wasn’t sure what game Bertie was playing, but he sure as hell was about to find out.
CHAPTER TWO
Three hours later and Cecelia was still unclear as to what had really happened the night before. All she really knew was that her head hurt; her stomach was queasy; and her mate was dead. Well, at least according to his sister. The shifter community was in mourning for the loss of their King, and would be for some time to come. Unless, she used her magical powers to bring him back to life. She’d tried explaining to Ariel, that’s not how things worked, but the lioness refused to listen to reason. She wanted her brother back, regardless of the risk. But it was the risk that had Cecelia on edge. What if Ariel was wrong and Dillen’s time was up? What if in trying to bring him back, she brought back something evil? What if he was no longer the Dillen they all knew and loved? When she thought about all the things that could go wrong, it made her stomach churn with worry.
It was times like this she really hated being a necromancer. No one understood the pain and anguish she endured every time she brought someone back to life. Everyone thought her job was easy, which pissed her off. It was more than just saying a few words and poof, the person magically appeared. There was an art to being a necromancer, but none of her friends understood that, or even cared. If they did, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. No one wanted Dillen back more than her, but there were consequences. Why didn’t anyone care about the consequences? All the questions swirling around in her head made her nauseous. There was only one thing left to do when she felt like this. She needed to bake.
Baking had always helped her to calm down, clear her head, and find her center. Running her fingers through her hair, she took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. A few minutes later, she headed toward the kitc
hen. Several hours of baking would do her good. Then, she would call in reinforcements because she needed some advice from her best friends. The girls would know what to do. They always did. At least, she hoped so.
Cecelia had just finished putting the final touches on the last of the gingerbread cookies when the insistent pounding on her door began. Again. Only this time, she knew exactly who was standing on her doorstep. She had to give it to the girls. Their timing was impeccable. She smiled as her body relaxed for the first time since Ariel’s visit. Surveying the cookies and brownies on every countertop in her kitchen, it was obvious she’d lost track of time and had been baking for hours. No wonder the girls had come looking for her, especially after her frantic call.
She quickly cleaned the kitchen, hung up her apron, and took in several deep breaths. The house was full of cookie aroma goodness, which only made her relax more. Even though it wasn’t Christmas, she’d decided to make gingerbread men, which was one of Camille’s favorites. She also hadn’t forgotten about Symone’s love of her of her double chocolate chip, fudge brownies. Or, the sugar cookies Scroogess had admitted to loving. She’d decided to splurge and make a batch of ghosts and goblins for the new Christmas witch. In some ways, it seemed so weird that they were all friends now. Yet, it also seemed natural. Like they had been friends forever. Besides, if she was going to bring Dillen back from the dead, she needed all the help she could get. And what better help than a Christmas witch who rode the Northern lights and made wishes come true all year long. Once again, the loud banging on the door brought Cecelia out of her musings.
“Open the damn door CeCe. We know you’re in there. We could smell the cookies a mile away. Let me at those gingerbread delights. You know they’re one of my favorites,” Camille demanded and pleaded simultaneously.
“I swear Cami, you have the subtlety of an elephant sometimes,” Symone groused, as she shook her head in disgust.
“Pot calling the kettle black much, Symone? You want those brownies, as much as I want those gingerbread cookies. You’re not fooling anyone.”
“Ladies, I think everyone needs to calm down and take in a few deep breaths,” Scroogess suggested.
“Scroogey, I know we’re all friends now, but stop patronizing us. We all know that you’re not immune to CeCe’s sugar cookies. You’re already salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs,” Camille said with a knowing look.
“Hey, that’s not nice. You better be nicer to me Cami, or I’ll smite your ass. I do control the Northern Lights after all.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Camille replied in a deadly voice. It would have scared most demons. Yet, Scroogess was completely unfazed by the threat.
“Bring it on Cruella,” Scroogess countered in a deadly voice of her own.
Before Camille had time to reply, the door swung open and Cecelia yelled, “Enough. You two are loud enough to wake the neighbors and no one lives within a ten mile radius of me. So, that’s saying something. If you don’t behave, you’re not getting any cookies. Besides, we don’t have time for your antics today. Dillen is in trouble and needs our help.”
Camille, Symone and Scroogess gasped in horror at Cecelia’s declaration. Symone was the first to speak. “Dillen? In trouble?”
Camille was next. “No cookies? You’re not sharing the cookies?”
“Focus, Cami,” Scroogess scolded.
“I’m warning you, Scroogey. You’re trying my patience today. Besides, she can’t threaten to take away the cookies. If Dillen is in trouble, she’s going to need all hands on deck. I do my best thinking when I’m floating on a sugar high. Everyone who knows me, knows that,” Camille groused, as she walked into the house. “Take away the cookies. That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all year if I’m being honest. You can’t invite someone over to your house, bake scrumptious cookies, and then don’t offer them any. There has to be a rule about that in the Witches’ Bible. Check that out for me, Scroogey. I’m positive that’s a no-no.”
Cecelia rolled her eyes at Camille’s antics. They’d been down this road before, so she wasn’t swayed by the older woman’s attempt to get her to concede. She wouldn’t. She needed them all to focus. Dillen was in trouble and if they were going to bring him back, she’d need their help. But first, they needed a plan and that was the problem. She had no clue of where to begin. It was embarrassing to admit that she knew very little about her mate, which was the reason she’d telephoned the girls. Maybe between everything they knew about Dillen collectively, she’d come up with a conjuring spell that would bring him back to this realm. Cecelia preferred sooner rather than later because something in her gut was screaming that they were running out of time. Once again, she was startled out of her musings when Symone gently touched her hand.
“Tell us what’s going on,” her friend insisted.
Cecelia spent the next thirty minutes telling them about her unexpected visit from Ariel this morning. After she was done, they were as stunned as she had been. It seemed as though they also knew and feared Paimon, ninth Spirit of Solomon.
“I knew Brittney had fallen off her rocker, but what in the hell was she thinking? You don’t summon Lucifer’s right-hand man without there being consequences. If that cow wasn’t already in the pokey and I didn’t enjoy my freedom so much, I’d strangle her boney ass,” Camille said in a voice dripping with disdain and anger. “How could she have so recklessly put Dillen and the others in danger like that? I’m sorry honey, but I’m going to need some cookies to deal with this shit storm,” Camille announced before walking out of the living room and heading toward the kitchen.
“Are we sure Dillen is dead?” Scroogess asked, ignoring Camille’s tirade.
“One of Paimon’s demons stabbed him through the chest with a sword. Ariel’s positive that her brother is dead and that I’m the only one who can bring him back.”
“I know this is a sensitive subject, but I have to ask. Does she understand the magnitudes of what it takes to bring back someone who has died? Not to mention everything that could go wrong if it was truly Dillen’s time,” Symone asked in a soothing voice.
Cecelia’s head snapped toward her friend. She knew they all meant well, but she didn’t need the third degree from them. Of course, she had explained the ramifications of Ariel’s request. Well, she had tried, but the damn woman didn’t want to listen. She’s hell bent on getting her brother back and she doesn’t care whose body she has to step over to do it. “She knows,” Cecelia finally replied, through gritted teeth.
Symone through her hands up in surrender and said, “Whoa, girlfriend. I’m just asking.”
Before Cecelia could apologize to Symone, Camille returned from the kitchen with a platter of cookies and drinks. From the cookie crumbs on her dress, it was obvious she’d already sampled the goodies.
“It’s obvious that you’re Dillen’s only chance. It’s the reason Ariel was on your doorstep this morning at the butt-ass crack of dawn. You have to help her. It’s that simple. But you’re going to need some extra mojo for this one.”
“I know. That’s why I called you guys. I can’t do this by myself,” Cecelia exclaimed.
“Oh, we’ll be there to help, but it still won’t be enough.”
“What do you mean?” Symone asked, as confused as everyone else in the room.
“Dillen is a King and one of the most powerful shifters in the magical community. Even with Scroogess, we don’t possess enough power to bring him back by ourselves. We’re going to need the Charmed Ones.”
“You do realize that the Charmed Ones aren’t real. It was a television show. Phoebe, Paige and Piper don’t really have powers,” Scroogess said in an exasperated voice.
Camille turned and snarled at Scroogey. “I meant Zoe, Zara and Zelda you nincompoop. Now, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Oh yeah. I heard Zelda is in town visiting her siblings, so Dillen’s death couldn’t have come at a better time.”
“Camille,” Scroogess ye
lled. That last comment was rude and uncalled for.
Taking another bite of her gingerbread cookie, Camille waved the Christmas witch’s comment away and moaned in delight. “You know what I meant.”
“I hate to admit it, but she’s right. To bring back such a powerful being, we’re going to need a kick ass spell and the power of the entire magical community, especially the Charmed Ones 2.0,” Symone concurred. “Damn. Cami’s a genius when she’s eating cookies. Who knew?”
Cecelia was still worried about the consequences of bringing Dillen back to life, but she had no choice. She couldn’t let her mate die without trying to save him. She also knew that the girls were right. They were going to need help. So, with a heavy heart, she grabbed her cell phone and called Ariel. She’d need the lioness’s help bringing everyone together. She just hoped for Dillen’s sake, they weren’t too late.
CHAPTER THREE
After copious amounts of cookies, hot chocolate, and some coaxing, Cecelia and her girlfriends arrived at Sophie and Alex’s farmhouse an hour later. Everyone had agreed that Cecelia had a better chance of bringing Dillen back from the dead since the farmhouse was where it had all began and his presence was the strongest. It would also help enhance Claire’s visions. Cecelia had no idea whom Claire was, or what role her visions played in all this mess, but she went along with Ariel’s plan, nonetheless.
Before anyone could knock, Ariel swung open the door, startling everyone on the porch. The lioness must have been watching for them, Cecelia thought, as she extended her hand to greet the younger woman. Instead, Ariel pulled her in a tight hug that threatened to cut off her airway.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to bring my brother back Cecelia. You have no idea how much this means to me. He’s all that I have in this world, since our parents’ death.”
Confused by the younger woman’s comment, Camille was the next to speak. “Why wouldn’t she help? Dillen’s her mate after all.”
Witchin' Up the Dead Page 2
