Of Flame and Fury: A Weird Girls Novel (Weird Girls Flame Book 3)

by Cecy Robson

  “Is that Aric?” I ask, barely recognizing what his were power has become.

  “Yes.” Gemini reaches for my hand and escorts me through the door. “He won’t hold back tonight.”

  All right, now it makes sense. “Anything out to get Celia will presume she’s with him,” I determine. “He’s making himself a target.”

  I barely shut the door with how fast Gemini stalks forward. “Yes,” he responds, keeping his voice quiet. “It will divert attention away from Celia.”

  I grind to a stop. Gemini could easily keep going with my hand still attached. Thankfully, he’s always careful not to hurt me. “How bad is it?” I ask.

  His gaze darkens as it meets mine. “Worse than we could have imagined.”

  Chapter Two

  My feet tentatively move forward, stepping lightly over the dark wooden floors. Based on Gemini’s tone, I’m waiting for something to break through the ivory-painted walls and attack. Gemini doesn’t reach for my hand. He’s too busy eyeing Sparky as the magic within us charges. He leads me forward with a gentle press of his hand to the small of my back. My tone isn’t so gentle. “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “We’re not entirely sure.”

  “So not making me feel better, babe,” I reply when he doesn’t answer right away.

  He looks around, taking me into a small alcove and further dropping his voice. “Remember when we spoke about Genevieve feeling a change in Lake Tahoe since the arrival of the other head witches?”

  “Yes,” I say. Celia felt it too. She’s not as sensitive to magic as I am, but since moving here, she’s always shared an odd kinship with the lake.

  God, I don’t like how Gemini quiets. “You told me the power of Lake Tahoe is stronger and purer than it’s been in centuries. You said it was a good thing,” I remind him. I shake my head when he doesn’t reply, knowing things are headed from bad to hell. “The evil ante blew up big time, didn’t it?”

  The muscles along his shoulders clench as if readying to pounce. “Yes.”

  Son of a bitch. Can’t evil just chill for once? “Babe, just tell me what’s up.”

  Gemini stops, turning to face me. “The shift in the lake’s supremacy is too severe and rising unusually fast. Genevieve no longer believes it’s the witches’ arrival stirring it. She feels it’s counterbalancing a presence that’s invaded the area.”

  “Why am I just hearing about this now?” I press.

  “I only just learned myself. Genevieve informed me an hour ago.”

  His admission gives me pause and a touch of attitude. Gemini doesn’t mean Vieve hit him up on his phone. Oh, no. Wolves call each other by howling. Those calls are loud and clear. As the liaison between the weres and Tahoe’s head witch, Gemini hears Vieve’s tender and seductive voice whisper along his ear whenever she sees fit.

  “An hour ago?” I ask. He replies with a stiff nod. He knows I’m pissed off. “And you didn’t tell me.”

  He raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t like my accusatory tone. Poor, hot, deadly werewolf. “If you recall what we were doing at the time,” he begins, doing his best to remain calm, “it wasn’t the best time to tell you or reply to her.”

  “Oh, I recall.” I reel away from him and stomp down the hall overlooking the massive foyer.

  The hem of my gown smacks against the iron balusters when I whip around. We’ve reached the open walkway that leads from the west wing, where the majority of the guest suites were constructed, to the east side dedicated to students and their learning areas.

  From here, I can see the entirety of the foyer and the large archway that opens into the ballroom. I don’t waste time admiring all the details put into this opulent structure. Uh-uh. I’m too busy fuming over Genevieve and pointing a lightning-charged finger at Gemini.

  “You should have told me, and she shouldn’t speak to you when we’re naked in bed.” I storm ahead, showering the floors with blue and white sparks as I wave my arms. “Or when you have me up against the wall, or on top of the vanity, and especially not when I’m bent over a terrace.”

  “Taran, wait,” Gemini snarls.

  Of course, I don’t. It is kind of cute that he thinks I might listen for once.

  My gown ruffles along the stark-white marble steps as I make my way to the first level. I don’t have to turn to know Gemini isn’t far behind. The strain between us crawls up my back, demanding I turn around. Several vamps halt their elbow-rubbing to grin and flash us some fang. The few I recognize snag the champagne glasses levitating in the air and toast our clearly adoring relationship. “Oh, shut up,” I snap.

  Gemini’s movements can be as subtle as air. Not now. He marches behind me, gaining ground as easily as I blink. “You’re doing this now?”

  “You’re damn right I’m doing this now.” More sparks. Followed by a zap of lightning that leaves a nasty mark on Vieve’s new floors. Sorry, not sorry.

  I cross the foyer. It’s lit in candlelight and adorned with expensive artwork and paintings of the most famous witches in history. The foyer is so ridiculously large, it takes a hot minute to reach the ballroom. The moment I step through the archway, I scan the room.

  “I take it Aric knows?” I’m not really asking. It explains the self-inflicted target on his back.

  “He does.” Gemini clears his throat, not that it erases his resonating growl. “Genevieve confirmed. She called him directly.”

  “Mm,” I add. “God forbid she do the same with you.”

  His gaze shifts from side to side, a warning to all those still looking at us that it’s a very unwise idea. “She didn’t know,” he rumbles.

  “Do not stick up for her,” I fire back. “Not when we were doing what we were doing and how hard we were doing it.”

  “And how hard were you doing it?” a vamp in a too-expensive tux asks.

  “Almost as hard as your mother,” I reply merrily. He scowls. His scowl deepens when I steal his champagne out of his hand and chug it. I toss it behind me and flounce away, forcing him to dive for the crystal flute before it crashes to the floor.

  As you can guess, I’m not Queen of Couth. I have my reasons. The main one is, I don’t have long to live.

  I’m not being dramatic, and take a seat if you think I’m whining. Since birth, evil has stalked my family and me. The more years that pass, the harder evil fights to take us. I’ve attended too many funerals and cried thick ugly tears for those I most love. One mistake. One moment of weakness. That’s all it will take for the tears to fall for me.

  I’m living on borrowed time. It’s something I know, just as I know how it’ll all go down. Either I’ll die alone, fighting whatever’s on top of me, or die protecting Celia.

  The latter is most likely. There’ll be no hesitation, no regrets. I’m prepared to take that killing shot meant for her; however it comes and whoever has the balls to wield it.

  I suppose it explains my anger. Every time. No, every second Gemini and I are alone is precious. I won’t have the luxury of saying goodbye. So, to have someone interrupt those moments when I’m with him, is wrong.

  My heels stomp along the gold marble ballroom where the reception is in full swing. Crystal chandeliers illuminate the levitating champagne flutes, and Lesser witches snake their way through the growing crowd hefting silver platters spilling with fancy hors d’oeuvres. I reach for another flute and take a long sip, my gaze bouncing from witch to vamp to were.

  Oh, and look who’s there by the doors leading out to the garden: Genevieve.

  The perpetual prom princess dazzles in a burgundy gown that brings out her sapphire eyes and flawless ivory skin. Some women suffer with decades of unrelenting acne. But no pimple ever dared flaw that perfect canvas. Heaven forbid.

  Genevieve stands as regal as the queen her peers revere her as, her ebony hair swept into an updo that’s both elegant and great-sex disheveled. Vamps, weres, and witches alike swarm her like butterflies desperate for a succulent taste of her delicate nectar. I don’t envy
flowers. Not ones capable of sprouting thorns and cursing your ass so it rests where your tits should be.

  Vieve and I used to hate each other. Like, hate. While we’ll never be besties, we’ve earned each other’s respect and are usually quite cordial. Except every now and then, the pretty flower needs reminding that fire and lightning can fry her petals.

  Vieve laughs, softly and amiably as she speaks to Uri. Uri, the master vampire of all master vampires, makes pleasant conversation while his barely dressed dates for the night flaunt their hot, almost naked bods. You can’t help but notice their packages beneath their super tight speedos, or the stupid bow ties that match Uri’s even stupider red cape.

  Vieve smiles at Gemini when she sees him. Her smile dwindles when she sees me.

  “Taran. She didn’t know,” Gemini reminds me with a warning growl.

  Vieve offers me a stiff nod. “Sister Taran.”

  “Don’t you ever whisper in my mate’s ear while we’re fucking again.” I grin to Gemini. “There. She knows now.”

  I wave to Uri as I walk away. “How’s it going, sunshine?”

  Uri chuckles. The little diva has always liked drama.

  Gemini cuts in front of me, blocking my path. “Was that necessary?” he demands.

  I take another sip of my champagne. Hey, this is some primo stuff. “About as necessary as you knocking-out that werecheetah who winked at me.”

  “That was different,” Gemini snaps. “He didn’t just wink, he invited you to his bed to show you how a real man fucks.”

  I give it some thought after I polish off my drink. “He was an idiot and didn’t know we’re together.”

  “I was standing just to your left,” he barks.

  “Talking to Vieve if I recall,” I remind him. “Anyway, he didn’t matter, and he didn’t know.”

  “He knows now,” Gemini fires back, throwing the words in my face. He gives me a once-over. “Are you done now?”

  “Eh.” I shrug. “For the moment.”

  He rolls his eyes. Like I mentioned, we’re totally in love.

  I release my glass carefully. It floats away and joins the other empty glasses on a round table covered in shimmering gold linens. “It’s a respect thing,” I say.

  “You call how you approached our hostess respectful?” he asks.

  “I was talking about respecting us, darling,” I drawl. “She should know better than to pull that. Call, text, send a raven, and be polite. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Taran, enough,” Gemini mutters through his teeth. He forces a smile onto a passing were. I wouldn’t call it a friendly smile. I wouldn’t necessarily even rank it as human.

  The were eases away from him, nodding a little too stiffly and almost mowing over a vampire with long, red hair.

  Gemini stiffens. I angle around him and to where his focus locks. Hmph. There’s good ol’ Misha, Celia’s sworn protector, man-slut extraordinaire, and possibly the most powerful master vampire to ever walk the earth.

  No real news, but vamps lack souls. They give them up in exchange for eternal beauty, sex appeal, and immortality. Misha gave up his centuries ago only for Celia to accidentally regift it back to him. It’s why he’s so potent. He simultaneously balances life and death.

  I’m not shocked to see him here or that he’s with some gorgeous… No. Sweet baby Jesus chewing on his fist, not her.

  Ileana Vodianova is the sole remaining female master vampire in Europe. She’s powerful for all the wrong reasons. In her day, Ileana didn’t just wipe out her rivals. She practically conquered the entire continent. Bedding and feeding from lovers like Attila the Hun, Sargon of Akkad, and Boudica, Ileana is a force reminiscent of an earthquake. An earthquake that swallows buildings whole and spits out the bloody bones of its victims. I met Ileana years ago. Well, sort of. Gemini told me who she was and wouldn’t let me anywhere near her.

  “She’ll see you as a threat,” he told me. In other words, she’ll try to eat you and pick her fangs with what’s left of your pinky.

  In a sheer white gown, diamond-encrusted thong and, well, that’s about it unless you count the earrings and the dazzling red rubies glued to her nips, Ileana stands like a life-sized sex doll created by horny and lonely Dungeons and Dragons enthusiasts. She’s tall, curvy, and scary. Very scary.

  “Genevieve didn’t want her here,” I remind Gemini.

  He takes a protective stance in front of me. “I know,” he says.

  “Then why is she here?” I ask, barely above a whisper. “Vieve is queen around here, and this is her castle.”

  Ileana’s attention drifts from Misha to me. She lowers her lashes, slowly and seductively, drawing my attention to what must be diamond dust coating her eyelids. Her long thin tongue glides along her gleaming white teeth as if she can almost taste me.

  Gemini’s pause is so severe, the room itself pauses with him. “The vampires refused to attend without her.”

  “You mean Uri refused,” I clarify. I’m no longer whispering, and neither is he. Hell, it’s not like she can’t catch every damn word we utter.

  Gemini shakes his head slowly. “No. It was Misha who insisted.”

  “What?” I ask. Well now, I thought he was on our side.

  Gemini narrows his gaze. “Is this a good time to remind you that you can’t trust the leech?”

  Misha turns and smirks, his features all sin and no sweet. Ileana throws back her head and laughs. Their humor fades when Aric enters the room like a god.

  I feel Aric before I see him. Everyone does. No one speaks. No one breathes. The sense of beast and power worsen in his presence. Except for him and the weres prowling with him, time simply stops.

  There was always a pronounced lethality to Aric, but it was contained to a degree. Around Celia, it would shift into something more protective and vigilant. Tonight, everything I’ve known of him, and everything that makes him the most powerful were of his kind, magnifies, promising to destroy anyone if it suits him.

  The darkness Aric carries swallows me, blinding me to everything but the sense of his beast circling me and baring his fangs. “Gemini,” I rasp.

  Gemini squeezes my hand. “It’s all right, love,” he says. “You are not his prey.”

  His words do nothing to reassure me, not with all the pent-up power spilling from Aric’s pores.

  Aric stalks forward. Gemini’s twin wolf leads the way. Two weres flank Aric, except they’re no mere weres. I recognize them from their paintings in the great Den hall. The one with the peppered silver hair is in line to be the next President of the North American Were Council. The other is the most decorated were and Warrior of his time. I expected the big guns here. What I didn’t expect is how inferior they’d appear in Aric’s presence.

  I release the breath I held too long. “Tell me Aric’s not going all psycho.” My head jerks in Gemini’s direction when he doesn’t answer me. “Gemini. This isn’t funny. He’s scaring the absolute tar out of me.”

  Sparky releases an involuntary jolt. Only then Gemini regards me. “Aric will do whatever he has to, to protect Celia. We all will.”

  I hug Sparky to me, trying to settle her. If Gemini is trying to make me feel better, it doesn’t work. “We’re all going to die,” I reply. “Awesome.”

  Genevieve approaches Aric first, bowing slightly and repeating the gesture when Aric introduces the weres accompanying him. He and the were elite were likely inspecting the grounds prior to their startling entrance.

  As the presumption of bloodshed fades, the murmurs resume and the tension lifts. I imagine it mirrors medieval times following a trial; heads roll, or they don’t, and the crowd disperses with promises to see one another at the next flogging.

  My head tilts in the direction of the kitchen when Sparky gives a twitch. The tightness in my heart eases. Celia is here.

  I hurry away, needing to see her and assure that she’s safe. “I’ll be back,” I call to Gemini over my shoulder. His brows knit. He doesn’t seem to
understand my rush. Odd. His link to Celia as his alpha’s mate should alert him of her presence. I open my mouth to tell him, but quickly shut it, knowing my announcement will draw more than Gemini’s attention.

  A team of Lesser witches hurry ahead of me and into the kitchen where the scents of rosemary, lamb, and simmering pots of shellfish drift into the hall. I almost expect to find Celia in the kitchen with how anxious Sparky appears to lead me there. But then she gives another twitch, and I’m urged away from the sound of banging pans and delectable aromas.

  My eyes scan the short hall I’m led to, keeping alert when I pass several small suites and an alcove overlooking the path that leads to the lake. We were given a tour of Genevieve’s manor when it was first under construction, again at its completion, and a few days prior to our arrival. I still can’t pinpoint where I am. There are several hundred rooms, from luxury suites to places of magical study, offices, and libraries, and two other kitchens.

  I turn into another hall, and again onto another, the spells designed to disorient having little effect on Sparky.

  The echoes of my tapping feet reverberate loudly as I leave the crowd of guests far behind. It feels like I’m headed back into the direction of the main kitchen when I pass another classroom. I round the corner and find my youngest sister, Emme, and our friend, Bren.

  Every were present is either patrolling in their beast form or in formal attire. Not Bren. As a former lone, Bren couldn’t give a damn about rules and appearances. He’s dressed in dark pants and his best flannel shirt. I’m guessing his roommate, Danny, had a say since Bren isn’t in full-out sweats, and his moppy head of curls is somewhat kempt. Bren likes to dress in clothes that are easy for his wolf to tear through. Fine by me. I don’t want anything to hold him back if his beastie wants to come out and play.

  Emme, conversely, tends to dress in clothes that reflect her soft and gentle demeanor, making her appear younger than her twenty-four years. Tonight, my little sister appears more mature than I’ve ever seen her.