by Michele Hauf
“I imagine you would never allow anyone to claim you. You being a lone and adventurous wolf. But I wouldn’t mind knowing you for a while. Promise, I won’t try to tame you.”
She stood and tugged his fingers, but he pulled her down to straddle his legs and kneel. “Kiss me in the moonlight, Kisanthra. Make a claim if you wish.”
An offer she hadn’t thought him capable of. She wasn’t about to refuse.
Kizzy kissed her werewolf lover and promised him everything she’d said. That she wouldn’t try to tame him. And that she would stand back and admire his wild and free heart. Because in doing so she could only grow wilder and more free alongside him. And untamed sounded perfect to her right now.
“You’re mine,” she whispered against his mouth. “My wolf.”
Chapter 18
“So if you know this witch, then you know the area?” Kizzy asked as Bron navigated the dark country road paralleled by sky-reaching white-papered birch.
“It’s coming back to me.” He reached over and turned off Siri. “Just ahead, if I recall correctly. You scared?”
“Of visiting a witch? Should I be?”
He shrugged.
“Dude, I’ve been chased by harpies, wraiths, vampires and have got a soul bringer on my ass. One little witch isn’t going to move the meter over to panic mode now. Besides, I have a sexy werewolf to protect me.”
When he smiled she wanted to grab him and make out with him. But before she could act on that desire he turned down a gravel road overgrown with weeds and pulled before a dark cottage that captured her attention. It was run-down, and the tree branches stretched over the roof as if to hide it from prying eyes. No light in the windows. It looked like an abandoned shack the hapless teens always fled to in the horror movies.
Yikes. So not welcoming. And she prided herself on not being hapless.
“What’s the witch’s name?” Kizzy asked.
Bron closed his eyes, seeming to ruminate on that one, then sang softly, “Eglantine, Eglantine, oh how you shine.”
“Bedknobs and Broomsticks!” she said, utterly awed that the big alpha werewolf had a thing for Disney movie tunes.
“Saw it when it first showed in theaters,” he said. “See? I know a thing or two about popular culture.”
“I wouldn’t call a movie from the 1970s current popular culture, but I’m not taking off points for your knowledge. Any man who sings me songs from Disney movies scores bonus points.”
“I’ll take them.”
He jumped out of the truck and gestured she lead when she walked around to him. “You go first,” she said. “Because, uh...you know her.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. His tongue made a quick dash over her teeth before he cupped the back of her head with a hand to hold her against him. Every part of her body wanted every part of his body to master her, own her. She’d never felt that way about a man before. And the feeling did not frighten her so much as promise the adventure she craved.
Breaking the kiss, he bowed his forehead to hers. “You have my permission to be scared at any time. What you’ve been through? Most human chicks would have been a puddle by now.”
“I will not puddle.” But she had to keep reminding herself she could be brave as they walked up the cobblestone path overgrown with tangled weeds that smelled acrid and deadly. “I will not puddle,” she whispered.
Bron knocked, and the door instantly opened. Kizzy startled but didn’t step back. To say the resident was a hag was putting it lightly. Bent over and dressed in dusty, tattered black, her gray, uncombed hair snarled this way and that. A long warty nose hung over her mouth that revealed no teeth in the gums.
The witch lifted her head with great effort and eyed Bron. “Oh! Shit.”
The door slammed shut.
Kizzy eyed Bron, who merely smiled and said, “Give her a minute. She didn’t expect me.”
“I—okay. That woman was the epitome of witch. Seriously, she looked like a picture you would see in a dictionary under the word witch.” She threaded her arm around Bron’s bent elbow. “I’m not puddling, but I might feel a slight mist coming on.”
The door again opened to a burst of interior light that was so bright Kizzy blinked a few times before she could make out the hag. Er, not a hag but a glamour girl sporting platinum-silver hair, gorgeous black lashes that framed bright blue eyes and a youthful smoothness to her skin that belied her seeming octogenarian age.
“Bron Everhart,” she declared as if Auntie Mame herself. “It’s been ages! Come in, come in! Let me look at you.”
Bron gestured for Kizzy to cross the threshold first, and she did so cautiously. The witch was completely focused on the handsome werewolf who entered behind her. And why not? The guy was sex on a stick.
She took Bron’s hands and looked him over. Kizzy noted she wore all white, and the foyer of her home was...huge. Sparkling white marble stretched as far as she could see. A grand crystal chandelier hung overhead, a centerpiece that belonged in a castle ballroom. A staircase ran upward two flights and curled to the right. What the...?
She turned to look over the ramshackle stoop where she’d just stood, but the door slammed shut before she could see into the darkness and ascertain they had indeed walked up an overgrown path to a decrepit shack.
The witch smoothed a palm over Bron’s cheek and glided down his beard in a move that tweaked Kizzy’s jealousy. “Always so stoic and handsome. It is so good to see you.”
He leaned in and kissed both her cheeks. “It is exquisite to see you, Eglantine.”
So that really was her name? Cool.
“Have you missed me?” she eagerly asked.
Bron thought about that one a few seconds. “No. You did send me off with no means to counteract that nasty attraction spell.”
“You needed that spell to draw in the siren,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“I did. But it took weeks to wear off. And my next assignment was in Wales, on the beach. I won’t even go into how many sirens I had to fend off after that. But I will always adore you, you know that. Let me introduce Kisanthra Lewis. She’s a—”
“A human.” The witch turned to Kizzy with baffled wonder and a flutter of her long lashes. She was so gorgeous Kizzy figured she must have pulled on some kind of witchy glamour after seeing who it was knocking on her door. “Bron, I thought you didn’t do humans.”
“I, uh... Kizzy has the Purgatory Heart.”
“Oh? Oh.” The witch placed her hand over Kizzy’s heart. It was a gentle touch, and the light in her eyes felt like nothing less than a sweet grandmother looking after her, but still Kizzy’s fingers stiffened at her thighs. “Mustn’t fear me, darling. Any friend of Bron’s is a friend of mine. I can feel the handprint. Who touched your heart so deeply it’s been forever scarred?”
“It wasn’t a deep love,” Kizzy said. “He was...possessive. Wouldn’t let me go. Even in death.”
“Interesting. Yes, yes, a bit of malice wavering out from within you. Come in. I was entertaining guests when you knocked, but they can wait a bit. They need to cool down. Let me treat you two to some tea.”
“No henbane tea,” Bron said as he followed the witch into a spectacular room filled with plants and flowers and white marble columns. A burbling fountain tucked in somewhere Kizzy couldn’t quite place.
She marveled over the utter impossibility of it all. It was as if a Victorian tea room in a glass-walled conservatory had been plunked in the middle of a dark and wicked forest. She loved it. Had it always been here? Even when she’d been partying with friends in high school? Weird. And a little creepy to consider now. But as her eyes fell over the lush flowers and she breathed in the humid freshness, she forgot to be scared.
Darn. She’d left the camera in the truck. Probably for the
best. Bron would not like her to take pictures of his former lover’s wondrous country retreat.
With a snap of her fingers, the witch produced from thin air a round table laden for tea with pastel cakes arranged on a tiered server. Delicate white china set for three. The aroma of the tea lured Kizzy closer.
“Smells like chocolate,” she said.
“And bacon,” the witch said.
“Bacon?” Bron asked.
“I’m trying something new with the chocolate tea cakes, darling. You know, bacon makes everything better. Or so they say. Now sit!”
Kizzy did so and had to keep herself from appearing rude by grabbing for the treats.
“Full moon in two days,” Eglantine noted as she poured them tea and sat between them. She pushed the tray of sweets toward Bron, and he selected a tiny cake decorated with a real violet and set it on his plate. “Does she know?”
“I do,” Kizzy spoke up bravely. “Bron’s a werewolf. You’re a witch. I’ve got harpies and vampires after me, and a soul bringer.”
Eglantine’s tea spoon clanked against the china. She cast a worried look at Bron.
He nodded. “The soul bringer wants her heart, for reasons I cannot comprehend.”
“Is she a job?” the witch asked him.
Again, he nodded. “I had no idea the heart I was tasked to retrieve was inside a living human’s chest. And the director...” He sipped his tea.
“The director.” Eglantine rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand before her. “Ethan Pierce is an idiot. I bet he wants you to find and finish, eh?”
Bron sipped even more tea and only offered a noncommittal shrug. Because to say “not exactly” would require too much explaining that Kizzy did not need to hear.
“Uh-huh.” The witch turned to Kizzy. “How long have you had the handprint on your heart, darling?”
“The car accident was eight months ago. My boyfriend was the driver. He died during the crash. I died on the operating table. My heart stopped beating for six minutes. Afterward, the doctor told me about a weird scar on my heart, but I had no idea it would culminate in...this.”
“Quite the boyfriend to possess the spiritual energy to grasp your heart from Purgatory. You must have been there with him.”
Kizzy set down her tea. “You think so?” She’d not considered that. She’d always assumed, upon death, she would go directly to Heaven. Not that she was so perfect and sinless, but she’d never committed a grave crime against another human. “I don’t know what to think about that.”
“Don’t think on it too much, darling. All that religious babble is just that. The real places are quite compelling and much harder to get into, I’m sure.”
“We’ve come to ask your help,” Bron said. “I used a tracker spell to locate Kizzy. Lillian Devereaux crafted it.”
“She’s an excellent Light worker. With a touch of the Dark to round out her edges.”
“Yes, and I have since destroyed the tracker because I was told it would send out vibrations. Paranormals of all sorts have had a bead on Kizzy’s heart and want it. They still do, even with the tracker out of the picture.”
“Ah.” Eglantine sat back and clapped her hands as if to command a grand procession of waiters. Instead she raised both hands and simply said, “Protect these fine souls from the eyes of those who wish them harm.”
She then picked up her teacup and sipped.
Kizzy looked to Bron, who lifted his flower-topped tea cake in a toast to her and said, “There you go.”
“So simple as that? I don’t feel any different.”
“The best magics are like that,” Bron said with a smile at the witch. “Thank you, Eglantine.”
“Anything for you, love. Now.” Eglantine moved aside the teacup and her plate and placed her hands on the table before her. “What troubles me is that a soul bringer is in the mix. My magic won’t hold up long against such a powerful being. Why does a soul bringer want her heart? It isn’t as though he’s access to Purgatory. He can’t even touch her heart. It would burn him alive. Or rather, I should say, burn him to death.”
“Really?” Kizzy leaned forward. “The delivery guy said the same thing about him not being able to touch my heart. But it’s a gateway to Purgatory, so we assumed he wanted to go there.”
“He’d have to send a champion in his stead. Must be something most valuable if he’s willing to afford the risk.”
“I wondered if he needed to get someone out,” Kizzy said. “Maybe he put a soul there by mistake?”
Eglantine shook her head adamantly. “Soul bringers are not allowed into Purgatory. The Toll Gatherers would shred him to bits.”
“I know little about the Toll Gatherers,” Bron said. “Tell us what you know about Purgatory, Eglantine.”
“Love to. As you must know, Purgatory is where human souls are sent to atone for their sins before they can move on to their Heaven. There are twenty Toll Houses, and at each one the soul must atone and compensate for their sins. The Toll Gatherers are demon, and they are nasty bastards. It’s not all gardens and roses like the Catholics believe. Purgatory will put the soul to the test. If it fails, it’s on to Hell, or rather, Beneath. Myself...” She brushed the gorgeous sweep of white hair from her face and over a shoulder. “I look forward to meeting Himself and tempting him for a turnaround.”
“You are not destined for Beneath, Eglantine. You are the kindest witch I have known.”
She balked. “Doesn’t look so good on my witchy resume, does it? Kind. Ugh.” She turned to Kizzy and propped her chin in hand. “So are you and Bron a thing?”
“Uh...” Kizzy laughed softly. “We’re more than friends.” Feeling a blush ride her neck, she met his eyes to see his reaction, and he smiled. Approval. Whew!
“He is quite the lover. If I were forty years younger...” The witch sighed. “The disadvantages of choosing mortality, eh?”
“You can choose mortality?” Kizzy asked. “Does that imply you could choose immortality?”
“Why, yes. We witches can live forever so long as we perform the immortality ritual once a century. It involves eating a beating vampire’s heart. Not for the weak of stomach. But that’s not what turns me away from immortality. I’ve only ever felt I have a century in this current incarnation of soul. I look forward to a reincarnation. It’ll be a hoot. But that means I experience wonderful, handsome lovers over the years, such as Bron, and then must stand by and age as they remain so young and virile.”
“You are gorgeous,” Kizzy offered. “Just because you’re getting older doesn’t mean you have to stop taking lovers.”
“Oh, I know that, darling. Hans and Gustave are upstairs waiting on me. So let’s make this quick, shall we? Tell me, Bron, have you contact with the soul bringer? Do you have a name?”
“Blackthorn Regis,” he said.
“Ah. Oh.” She tapped a perfectly manicured finger against her cheek. “I had thought that one had taken a human lover. A sin eater, in fact. Heard things like she had softened him, actually made him feel.” To Kizzy she said, “Soul bringers are quite without emotion. They were once angels, you see. Fallen specifically to ferry the dead, day in and out. Seems a tedious job.”
“So the soul bringer has a lover or girlfriend who is human?”
“It’s what I’ve heard about him. I thought it was true. Well, no matter. But you know, darling...” She clasped her hand warmly over Kizzy’s hand. “The soul bringer can take out a person’s heart without killing them. Something to think about should worse come to worst.”
“I don’t understand. If someone takes out my heart, I’m pretty sure I’m dead.”
“No. The soul bringer’s magic can give you life. It could be very similar to the life you have now. You might never notice you’re missing your heart.”
“
But I want my heart. In my chest! It is mine.”
“Yes. And why give it away just to save your life, eh?”
The witch stood and leaned over to kiss Bron on the cheek. “As I’ve said, I was previously occupied when you two arrived.”
“We should be going.” Bron stood. “Thank you, Eglantine, for the protection spell.”
“It will make the two of you invisible to any wishing you harm. But as for the soul bringer, well, I’d start to panic after twenty-four hours. That’s about as long as I suspect my magic will hold against one so powerful.”
“It’ll give us time to make a plan,” he said. He took Kizzy’s hand as she thanked the witch. And they found their way out of the witch’s estate.
And found themselves standing before a ramshackle cabin on a dark and miserable night. Rain spattered the overgrown weeds and vines. Bron gripped Kizzy’s hand as they ran to the truck.
Chapter 19
Rain pummeled the windshield. The flick of the wipers made a rhythm in the absence of music on the radio. They didn’t talk much on the way to the motel. Bron’s thoughts were occupied with what Eglantine had said about the soul bringer having a human lover. Could he somehow use that against the soul bringer? It wasn’t as though he had the stomach for ripping out the lover’s heart and taunting the soul bringer with it. An eye for an eye? No innocent should ever be involved in such devious means. Though he could have no clue if the lover was involved in the quest for Kizzy’s heart.
It had been good to see Eglantine again. Such a glamorous woman, and she wore her age well. She must be in her eighties. He loved that she wore the hag glamour to answer the door and kept her home warded as a decrepit old cottage. Kept away curiosity seekers.
He had led a blessed life and had gained many friends and lovers over the years. He regretted the affair that had shattered his marriage, but then he had been young and foolish. Claire truly had been much better off without him.
Poor Claire. He’d buried her heart and said goodbye to her. The very last person she may have wished to touch a part of her was him. That he’d found himself keeper of her heart—in the worst manner possible—must be serving her some crazy karmic backlash. Because he did believe she had been the one to put Isabelle out on that cold winter night.
