by Michele Hauf
Looking ready to burst with joy, Libby nodded enthusiastically.
“But, sweetie, he’s serious about his threat to me and you.”
“I know.” Wincing away the enthusiasm, Libby stilled her excited tittering. “That’s the awful part about all this. I know he means it. But CJ will save us.”
“I’m not so sure. This Night March doesn’t sound like something we want to offer in exchange for one witch’s soul.”
Or two witches’ souls, if her hopes for Reichardt’s heart actually softening for her sister didn’t pan out.
“Oh, goddess, you’re hurt?” Libby touched Vika’s chest where blood stained her dress.
“Some kind of intangible spear went through me, and I assume, Certainly. It hurt, but now it doesn’t. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry, Vika.”
She squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’m going to talk to CJ and learn more about what he’s agreed to. You...try not to fall too hard, please, Libby? Take a few moments and step back from this immense attraction I know you feel for Reichardt and be rational about it.”
“I can try that. But you weren’t on the receiving end of that kiss. Oh, my goddess!”
Yes, and she should be there for her sister when she wanted to squeal about a kiss, as they had been for each other previously. First kisses were always the best, the most magical, and if unexpected, then even better. How it had occurred, she couldn’t imagine.
“I’m going to the garden to pick a sunflower.” Libby kissed her and scampered out.
Recalling the symbolism for the flower, Vika murmured, “Sunflowers for foolish infatuation. Oh, Libby.”
No one ever said first loves were easy. Vika believed a person could have many first loves in their lifetime. Sometimes the relationship ended with one of the twosome being turned into a cat.
Other times?
“There be demons,” Vika said on a sigh, and pushed the doors open leading into the living room.
Certainly stood beneath the chandelier, arms out to receive her, and she walked up and took that offer. It felt great falling into his arms after the incident in the kitchen. It wasn’t every day her life was threatened, as well as her sister’s. Despite her job and the awful things she witnessed almost daily, she’d never worried for her life or injury, because until now she’d never put herself in danger.
CJ’s kiss reached down into her soul and swept warmth across it she never wanted to lose—including her soul. If it fell into Reichardt’s hands, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. People could survive without their soul, but they would grow dark and tainted. Open to evil.
Did evil trace this man’s veins?
Don’t think about it. Fall into his arms. Take this moment.
Inwardly, she chastised herself for any words that may have turned Libby against seeking love with Reichardt. Love was too lush and wondrous not to take it when it came to you.
“I love you, too,” she said. “I didn’t answer earlier when you said it because my mind was on my sister. But I feel it. It’s real.”
“I didn’t say it to get you to reply in kind, but now that you have, you can’t imagine how that makes me feel.”
“I have an idea.”
His confession he’d avoided relationships because he’d been so busy studying magic reminded her anyone could become obsessed with anything. Like cleaning. And soul bringers.
“You healing?” he said with a tap to her wound.
“Yes, it doesn’t hurt at all. That was something weird. How about you?”
“The healing wards have done their work. How’s Libby?”
“She’s going to be fine. As weird as it is, I think I want her to find what it is she seeks with Reichardt.”
“I’ve never known a soul bringer to show interest in others. But that was lipstick on his mouth.”
“She said he actually kissed her back.”
“Wow.”
“I know, right? And I don’t think it was a heat of the moment, wanting it to be true when it really wasn’t, either. He really kissed her.”
“Stranger things have never happened. And trust me, I’ve seen all kinds of strange.”
“I bet you have.”
“Get this for strange...” He pressed her palm over his chest. “When Reichardt held us suspended in the kitchen, I think the spear he shot through us exorcized another demon.”
“Really? You felt it leave?”
He nodded. “Grief, I suspect.”
“That leaves what?”
“Two remaining.”
“You’re so close, CJ.” And to stare into his gaze too long might reveal those strange things to her. Vika tilted her head to break the look. “So talk to me, dark one. Tell me about this Nacht März, and is it as terrible as it sounds?”
“If you think calling all demons who walk this earth to order to slaughter all mortals in their path terrible, then yes. But don’t worry, I would never think to send forth the call.”
“That is what you brought here from the place of all demons? A means to call them out?”
“I did. It is the call to the Nacht März.”
Just the two words, said with a gruff German tone, sent a chill up Vika’s spine. “Why would you do that?”
“It is the reason I went to Daemonia in the first place. I wanted to obtain something another witch wanted desperately. It was purely selfish on my part. Well, mostly. I mentioned earlier my parents did something horrible. They once enacted the Night March. I don’t know their reasons, but father was always dabbling about the edges between dark magic and malefic magic. They were branded warlocks, and not soon after is when the witch hunters got them.”
“Certainly, I’m so sorry. But...why would you want the same device if...?”
“The last thing I ever wanted to touch in this known universe was that bedamned call to the Nacht März. But recently I discovered another witch had his sights set on it. I knew if I didn’t get to it first, the other witch would, and that he would actually use it.”
“What other witch?”
“Have you heard of Ian Grim?”
Vika’s heart thudded hard against her rib cage. Her knees felt loose and wavery. “The warlock?” It was a name most witches knew and were careful to avoid. She hadn’t met him, and she was glad for it.
Certainly nodded. “We’ve been rivals for decades. Dancing about one another in a macho display of one-upmanship. If he masters a level of dark magic, then I have to exceed him. If I accomplish lithoboly, then he responds in kind. I don’t know how it all got started, but it’s been a strange fuel to my quest for magical knowledge over the decades.”
“I don’t know how you can associate with that man. Grim practices malefic magic. He’s committed countless crimes against the Light and mortals. He is designated a warlock for a reason.”
A warlock was a witch, male or female, who had committed grave transgressions against the Light. A pariah cast out from the fold.
“Oh, goddess, the warlock.” She touched her mouth, remembering the scattered safflower petals.
“I don’t associate with him as if a friend or colleague. We are each other’s nemesis. I’ve always gone out of my way to show him up and prove I’m the better witch.”
“The cock of the walk?”
“Truth? Yes, it’s like that. I’m a guy, Vika. It’s what we do.”
When he tried to kiss her she inclined her head away. CJ had journeyed to Daemonia merely to obtain something he could use against another witch? And something that had such profound evil memories related to his parents. So not cool with her. This had been what the petals had indicated. Ian Grim was involved in her life in a manner she couldn’t quite figure yet.
“What does this item do beyond summoning demons? What is it, exactly?”
“It’s a whistle made from the bone of Lucifer’s left wing. When blown, it summons all demons who walk the earth, and their only command is to destroy life. Thus, the night march of demons.”
“On a small scale, yes.”
He was so callous about it. That he’d brought the thing to this realm was not bold macho posturing but pure idiocy.
“It must have been returned after your parents had used it.”
“Yes.”
“Well then, would you put it back if I asked you to?”
“But then it would be available for Grim to take.” He puffed up his chest. “I can’t risk that. As well, I did make a promise to you never to return to Daemonia. And besides, if I returned the whistle now, I wouldn’t be able to save your life by fulfilling Reichardt’s request.”
“You would consider using it to save my life? That is reprehensible, CJ.”
“I will never use it! I am not like my father.” His jaw tight, his eyes shut just as tightly. “I just...need some time to figure out a plan. Your life is in danger. I don’t want to lose you, Vika. I love you. I— Fuck, this is a fine mess.”
“Never would have happened had you not taken the damned thing out of Daemonia. Damn it!” she cursed her use of the proper name.
But really, if she hadn’t heaped bad luck upon herself by engaging with CJ, then she could hardly expect karmic retaliation by the mere mention of the name of so foul a place.
She paced away from him, hands to her hips, her black skirt sweeping the floor. Touching him right now was the last thing she wanted to do. Stupid man. She understood males’ machismo and their need to one-up each other. Rivalries between witches were not uncommon. But to bring something that could destroy mankind into this realm, even if he never had intention to use it? She couldn’t understand why his parents’ sins hadn’t kept him far away from the place.
On the other hand, keeping the dread thing out of the warlock’s hands was a valiant accomplishment.
“Is it warded? How does Grim not know you have it?”
“I’m sure he felt it the moment I returned to the mortal realm with the Nacht März in hand. But I do have it cloaked. You’ve walked right by it every time you are in my home.”
She gaped at him.
“And I cloak my footsteps constantly,” he continued. “Grim can have no idea where I live.”
“You’ve the thing at your home? You hid it from me?”
He nodded. “Not a safer place to keep it than right in the middle of it all. I’ve hidden it from everyone with wards. Even the demons inside me cannot access it, thank all the gods and goddesses for that one.”
“I should think the demons would see through your wards.”
“Me, too, but so far, it’s worked.”
Vika sighed and shrugged her fingers through her hair. The braid had loosened, and a few remaining yellow roses tumbled down her dress. The day had been long and trying. She’d had to deal with Grief, and Reichardt’s threats, and now this revelation?
“What of the witch’s rede?” she asked. “And ye harm none. Seems what you’ve done is grounds for ostracism to warlock status.” She turned to CJ. “Or would that serve to your advantage? Showing Grim you can do the warlock thing as well as he?”
“No. It’s not like that at all. I’ve not used the thing, nor would I ever. Vika, please, if you’ve learned anything about me is I have a moral compass.”
She lifted her chin. She did know that about him, but it was becoming more difficult to believe it.
“Despite the dark magic I practice, I pride myself in following the rede. I go out of my way to ensure the safety of mortals. Always. I’m sorry.” He winced then let out a soft chuckle. “It seems I’ve been apologizing to you a lot lately. No getting beyond it. But will you let me think about this? There must be a means to work this out. I won’t let the soul bringer near you or your sister.”
“What if you’ve no choice? What if it comes down to hour number forty-eight and you haven’t solved the problem? I don’t know, CJ.”
“You don’t trust I can handle this.”
“I didn’t say that, I just...” She didn’t trust he could handle this. And she did. But truly, he couldn’t bring the thing to Daemonia only to again risk Grim getting his hands on it. “Maybe we could get Reichardt to scrub you of the demons? If we insist you can’t work the Night March spell properly while occupied by them?”
“Why do you always think of me, Vika?”
“Because I want you whole. To be free of the demons.”
“I love you for that. But I think I want to keep the remaining two. I might be able to use them. How, I’m not yet sure. If I can bring up the war demon...”
She swung a condemning look at CJ.
“Would you talk to War?” he posited. “The demon might be our only hope. It’s the strongest one inside me. I imagine he wouldn’t mind waging a war against a few thousand demons.”
“That’s...” A strangely good idea. And not. That would mean actually calling the demons to walk the earth. So risky. Anything could go wrong. “That would mean I’d have to talk to War while he’s in control of your body. I don’t know if I can do that. You were so angry with me when I spoke to Want.”
“This would be different. And I sure as hell am not asking you to have sex with War. It was just a thought. I think it should be a last resort.”
“What about asking Grim for help?”
CJ stiffened defensively.
“Just a suggestion,” she said, and glanced upstairs where Libby had retreated to her bedroom. No doubt about it, whatever they planned, it would be a slippery situation. “Let’s think on this then. I need more tea. I’ve had a long day. Come on, I’ll brew you a cup.”
Her lover pointed upward. The chandelier was his lifeline.
“Right. And I’m not ready to talk to War or even Pain. I’ll bring it out to you.”
* * *
With a stiff scrub brush, Vika swirled the organic green cleanser around inside the porcelain toilet bowl. It was past midnight, but she couldn’t sleep. Cleaning usually relaxed her, but she foresaw heading to the downstairs bathroom next because after polishing the mirror, scouring the tub and wiping down the vanity, she still hadn’t found peace.
A sigh behind her indicated Libby stood in the open doorway. “I just scrubbed that one yesterday.”
She had, and it hadn’t needed a repeat scrubbing so soon, but it was a means of avoidance.
“So,” her sister said on a sleepy tone, “you’d rather scrub toilets than be with your boyfriend downstairs?”
CJ had pulled the easy chair directly beneath the chandelier and had bunkered down for the night. Using the excuse she was tired after tea, Vika had left him with little more than a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s complicated,” she said, setting the brush in the tub to rinse. “And I’m mad at him. Sort of.” She blew out a surrendering sigh. “Why can’t I be angry with him? I want to be. Shouldn’t I be? It’s like, if I go down and hug him, I’m agreeing to all the dangerous, reckless, foolish things he’s ever done.”
“No, if you hug him that means you’re human, and you need the connection as much as he does.” Libby yawned and tugged up the fluffy terry cloth lapel of her robe. “Also, while everyone around you is telling you how wrong he is for you, you actually see into his soul and know he is the only one for you.”
“Are you talking about me and CJ or you and Reichardt?”
She let out a soft chuckle. “Both. Go sit with him. It creeps me out to know he’s down there alone, probably staring wide-eyed up at the chandelier. How can he sleep? Does he sleep?”
“He does, for short periods. You’re right. I can’t leave him alone. You get some rest. We’ll need to stay strong for whatever the next few days bring.” She hugged her sister and then wandered down to the living room, where the light hurt her eyes.
“Can’t sleep?” he muttered. “Or feeling sorry for the pitiful witch who can’t go home without risking a battle with his own demons?”
“A bit of both.” Vika picked up the compendium from the floor and then settled onto the easy chair
next to CJ. “Mind if I join you, oh, pitiful one?”
“Vika, I’m—”
“No more apologies. It is what it is. You’ve done things. I’m still not sure how I feel about that. But for now, I know I can’t stay away from you, and I wanted to be close. I’m tired, so I may fall asleep in your arms.”
“Please do. But what’s with the book?”
“Demons,” she said on a yawn. “I want to know what we’re dealing with.”
“Smart witch you are.” He opened the book on his lap, while Vika nestled closer to give the book some room. Tilting her head against his shoulder, she watched his face as he paged through the book.
The incorporeal demon was listed, and CJ read the page, explaining that the demons from Daemonia were the upper crust, so to speak, the royalty of demons. While the lesser demons most often tread the mortal realm and were shunned by those from Daemonia.
Closing her eyes, she allowed his deep yet quiet recitation to lull her. He smelled good. Like a favorite sweater taken out from a cedar drawer and snuggled against one’s face. Hers.
She’d said she loved him.
Love? Possibly. Yet shame on her for falling for a man she had known was trouble from the beginning, and for allowing her heart to lead her when normally— Hell. What was so wrong with following her heart?
Besides getting attacked by demons and being threatened with the removal of her soul?
Sighing, she spread her fingers down his chest and felt the hum of his protection wards against her palm. “Take down your wards,” she whispered.
With a few whispered words from CJ, the hum ceased, and Vika pulled up her leg to snuggle in closer to her lover. “Can we have what we think we want from each other?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know, Vika.” He closed the book and slid it down aside the chair and returned her hug. “I want you. My heart craves your beauty and light. But I’m not so stupid to think that selfish desire isn’t hurting you.”
“Why must it be selfish to love someone? I struggle with that, too. Like if I relax and let myself love you, the world will not approve, that it’ll sneer at me and say I’m asking far too much. I don’t want to feel that way. I take my reluctance as a portent.”
