It's not like I'd be cheating on Sebastian, not really. I mean, I wouldn't have to do anything other than string Dominguez along long enough for him to help me clear my name. I could break the spell at any time he started taking things too seriously.
Plus, he had shown an interest. Dominguez had had a modest response to my flirting. It wouldn't be complete coercion. And anyway, so what if it was? This was a life-or-death situation.
By the time William and I'd closed up for the day and I'd walked the daily deposits to the bank, I had a list of ingredients in my pocket. Even though ideally I'd have preferred a waxing moon in a sign ruled by Venus, tonight would do. After all, time was of the essence. I wanted Dominguez absolutely smitten next time he saw me.
* * * *
I could tell before I even got my key in the door that Barney, my cat, did not approve of my plan of action. As I came up the stairs I heard a series of sneezes culminating in a very unladylike snort.
When I opened the door, Barney was nowhere to be found. Normally anxious that I might somehow forget to fill her food bowl, she usually greets me as I come in with a warm chirp (she's part Maine Coon) and a bump on the leg to direct me toward the kitchen.
I tossed my backpack and my bike helmet on the couch, and hung up my coat on my tree. I headed straight for the tub. My plan was to ritually bathe with some handmade rose soap and then head up to the attic right away so I could have the spell in action before Parrish came back from his evening meal. I wasn't even going to pause to dress; I've found nakedness vastly improved love spells.
I had one of those old-fashioned, claw-foot tubs deep enough to accommodate a lot of bubbles. I turned the faucets to a water temperature one degree below scalding, lit a few candles, and flipped on a CD of Spanish a cappella lullabies to put me in the lovin' mood.
I was just about completely relaxed and in a near trance state when Barney hopped up into the sink. She reached out a fat paw—she actually had an extra claw, a dew claw, which made her large paws seem even bigger—and hooked the plastic shower curtain.
"Yes?" I asked her, as if I didn't know what she wanted to say.
After blinking her yellow eyes innocently, she shook her head so hard her ears flapped.
"I know," I said, scrubbing the lightly scented soap under my arms. "Binding spells are bad juju, but I've thought this through. I'll make sure to seal the spell with wax I can break."
Barney let the shower curtain go with a tug. She bounded onto the toilet seat and turned her back to me. The fur across her shoulders rippled with disapproval.
Well, I didn't expect Barney to understand. She was allergic to magic—or at least pretended to be. She would act indignant no matter what spell I proposed, even if it was a "mouse-a-plenty."
I stepped out onto the rag rug. Toweling off quickly, I opened the door with the intention of gathering the burrs I needed for the spell from my tower room. Barney scooted past my legs and nearly tripped me on the way out. I shook my head at that cat. She never liked to let go of her point. I was sure she'd be knocking things off my dresser in the middle of the night just to remind me how wrong I was for not listening to her.
My tower room was where I grew my herbs. Since dating Sebastian, for whom herbalism was a specialty, my collection had expanded to include a number of odd plants. In fact, I could thank him for the three sandburs I plucked from a clay pot near the other roadside weeds I cultivated, like catchfly and Queen Anne's lace.
It really wouldn't be cheating on Sebastian to cause a little harmless attraction to blossom in Dominguez's heart, would it?
When Barney sneezed and batted a plastic Tupperware container off the top of the refrigerator, I nearly reconsidered. Then, I glanced at the perfectly round hole in my window. It, and the bullet imbedded in the plaster on the wall behind me and just over my shoulder, was a memento courtesy of the Order of Eustace.
Sometimes the situation demanded dire action, I reminded myself.
Besides, Sebastian would understand. I was sure of it.
Burrs in hand, I headed for my attic.
* * * *
My ritual space used to be intentionally bare to remind me that I'd left behind my life of magic.
Now it overflowed.
Just beyond the white pentacle I painted on the rough-hewn wood flooring sat bookshelves/herb cabinets that Sebastian and I built. Okay, the truth was I designed them and Sebastian did all the heavy lifting and nail pounding, but, hey, I bought the pizza and the beer. Even so, I was really proud of them. They were four vaguely crescent-shaped bookshelves, which I had painstakingly aligned with a compass so that the openings between them corresponded to the cardinal points.
Magical doodads were piled on them. Jars of dried herbs, loose beads, oils, gemstones, string, ribbon, mirrors, fabric swatches, paints, feathers, sealing wax, and candles of every conceivable size, shape, and color.
Then there were the found objects: twisted oak branches, a glass full of rainwater, rocks, acorns, a bunch of bittersweet, a bowl of organic compost, and dried leaves and flowers. I had a pile of practical Witchy needs too—matches, salt, notepad, pens, all-purpose goo remover, and a fire extinguisher.
I was happy with the clutter, but as I looked around I still felt a little sad. All the things I'd collected were still so impersonal. I'd had to leave all my magical history behind—gifts given to me over the years, like the Bast statue from the Chicago museum's gift store that Jasmine bought for Barney hoping to cure her allergy—what a disaster that had been! I laughed at how foolish the two of us had been, trying to use magic to fix her magically induced sneezes!
My smile faded with the memory of Jasmine lying dead in the circle, her face twisted in pain. Her prayer beads—ones she'd crafted herself—had been broken. I'd saved them.
Walking over to the loose floorboard, I pulled out a black silk scarf. Since I was doing this spell so that Dominguez would have sympathy for what happened that night, I carefully laid the broken chain on the altar. It was silver. The beads were alternating groups of amethyst and mother of pearl. Where the crucifix would normally hang on a rosary, a silver Nile Goddess pendant hung. I smoothed the chains with tender brushes of my fingertips.
I left the other item hidden. It was a cross. It had belonged to one of the priests Lilith killed. I'd ripped it from him, the way I'd imagined he'd ripped Jasmine's. It occurred to me now that it was hard evidence linking me to the priest's deaths. I should get rid of it. Or, at least get it out of the house.
My fingers continued to stroke Jasmine's necklace. I'd deal with that later. I had a spell to cast.
I rummaged through my things until I found two fat, red votive candles, a scrap of scarlet silk, sealing wax of the same color, and stamp I got from a scrapbooking store with the impression of a heart in it. I set them all on my altar, which was still draped in red since the last full-moon ritual.
Facing east, I sat down on the floor. I could feel dust and bits of wood adhering to my damp skin. The air was warm and close and familiar. I took a moment to breathe in the old wood and frankincense scent of the attic. My shoulders relaxed for the first time since Special Agent Dominguez walked into the store this morning. I sat quietly, just decompressing, for a long moment. Through the skylight over my altar, I watched the day fade. It was still early, maybe five o'clock, but this was October in Wisconsin. I listened to the creaks of the house and the sound of pine branches scraping against the dormer window.
When I felt ready, I pulled out the bankers' box I kept under the altar table. I removed a stick of jasmine incense—funny that the spell called for the scent when I'd just been thinking of her. Lighting it, I stood up. Starting in the north, I walked the outline of the painted circle. As I did, I imagined a transparent bubble forming between the world and me, creating a magical space. Without much effort on my part, the guardians materialized. They were each aspects of Lilith. In the east appeared the faint image of a young warrior woman who was dappled on shoulders and thighs with the feath
ers of a snowy owl. Her long black hair was tossed by the wind and her hands rested lightly on a broadsword. A creature as dark as smoke took shape in the south. Only glowing specks of embers for eyes were visible. As I passed the western point, the watery image of a woman wavered into existence, like the reflection in a rippling pool. She was full bodied and naked, her hair cascaded in waves and she carried a chalice in her hands. Last, in the north, there stood an old woman with eyes sharp as flint and hair the color of polished steel. She held a silver coin in her gnarled hand and was the most solid image of them all. I took a moment to regard the circle I'd cast. It just barely registered in the visual range, swirling incandescent greens and blues like a soap bubble. I reached a hand up over my head and felt an electric tingle. My magic had always been strong, but after merging with Lilith it was… well, honestly, it was frightening how powerful I could be.
Standing in front of my altar, I put the incense in its burner. Lilith rose to the surface; her presence prickled my skin like a light electrical current. It used to be that when I called Lilith, she possessed me completely. Now I had more control.
I knelt down to begin my spell. Taking the red cloth, I spread it out in front of me. I carefully picked out one of the sandburs. I imagined Dominguez in my mind, and said, "This thine eye, I bind to me." I placed the burr in the cloth, then I chose a second one. "This thy hand, I bind to me." With the last one, I swore I heard Lilith's voice echoing over my own as I said, "This thy heart, I bind to me."
I pushed the sticky seeds together until their barbs locked. I folded up the silk around them and made a kind of pouch in my fist. Using the flame from one of the candles, I lit the red bar of sealing wax. I carefully dripped it over where I pinched the cloth together by my thumb and index finger. Pressing the stamp in the cooling wax, I imagined locking the spell.
A loud sound like a door slamming shut startled me. I gasped and nearly dropped the charm. I looked around for the source of the noise. Seeing nothing, I shrugged. It was probably one of the storm windows dropping suddenly. It happened sometimes, especially when it was windy. The wind certainly seemed to have picked up; I could hear it groaning over the roof.
Standing up, I held the spell bag in both hands, over my head. Closing my eyes, I visualized drawing power from the guardians and from Lilith to activate the spell. I chanted the names of the Goddesses, "Isis, Istarte, Innana, Hecate, Demeter…" A light, breathy voice joined me, followed by a crackly hiss. A smooth, sexy baritone added her voice, then a dusty old warble. At last, they all seemed to merge into one powerful voice, whose strength shook the windows and rattled the beams.
When the power was at its apex, I saw a bright red light, like a laser, shoot from the center of the spell bag and disappear into the night. I imagined it searing Dominguez like a French kiss on the eyes, hands, and heart.
Spell complete, I knelt to put a hand flat on the floor. I let the excess energies roll off me, grounding. The air pressure dropped, causing my ears to pop. I shook my head. Strange, that had never happened before.
Deliberately, I closed the circle and dismissed the guardians. When I finished walking it, I said, "The circle is open, but unbroken." Before I left the attic, I made sure all the candles were snuffed out and my materials put away. I grabbed a leather cord and fashioned a necklace to wear the charm around my neck.
As I headed down the stairs to take a shower to clean off my dusty butt, my peripheral vision caught sight of a glowing palm shape in the center of the pentacle on the floor. Both it and the pentacle seemed to pulse with an unearthly light. I blinked and the image was gone.
* * * *
I heard someone let himself in while I was dressing after my shower. Given that the sun was down, I assumed it was Parrish. As usual, I felt tired after performing the spell work, so I'd slipped into my pink Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and my favorite navy-blue oversized sweatshirt. I tucked the charm necklace underneath, close to my heart.
"Hey, make some coffee, will you?" I shouted out to the living room. I yawned, stretching until my muscles popped.
The springs in the living room couch squeaked as he hauled himself to his feet. Somewhere in the kitchen, Barney sneezed.
That caught me by surprise. Traditional vampires, of whom Parrish was one, didn't set off Barney's allergies. My theory was that a vampire's magic was expressed only at the moment of his transformation from dead to undead (and possibly during the bite). So when not actively biting or "Becoming," Barney's sensitive nose merely registered them as a dead thing. Given how much she liked to present me with lifeless mice and other such lovelies, her affection for him made a kind of twisted sense. To her, Parrish was like something the cat dragged in.
When Barney sneezed again, I got a little nervous. Sebastian, you see, was full-time magic. "Sebastian?" I called. "Is that you?"
Over the clattering of tins in the cupboards, I heard, "Of course, darling. Who were you expecting?"
That's when I heard the clomp of motorcycle boots on the stairs.
4
Cancer
KEYWORDS:
Nurturing and Tenacious
I rushed into the living room hoping to divert Parrish before Sebastian noticed him. It was too late. Sebastian stood in the doorway of the kitchen holding my coffeepot in his hand like he wished it were a bludgeoning weapon while crushing a coffee filter in the other.
Parrish, for his part, acted completely nonplussed. He grinned when he saw me, showing off descended fangs. He'd come straight from breakfast.
When he'd died, Parrish had certainly left a beautiful corpse. His past-the-shoulders, silken mane of auburn hair gave him the air of a heavy-metal rock star—a fashion statement, I should note, that he courted quite intentionally. Dusty jeans, worn out in all the right places, hugged his long, lean legs. His T-shirt was so tight he might as well not have been wearing one. Over that, he wore a motorcycle jacket that made his six-foot-plus frame look like he might have once had a membership in Hells Angels, if Chippendales had a chapter.
Parrish was a bad, bad boy.
"Got your note, Meadow Spring," Parrish said, holding up the sticky on his finger. "If there's trouble, you know I'm at your service, lady."
I smiled. Parrish might be bad, but he wanted desperately to be a gentleman.
From the kitchen doorway, Sebastian snorted derisively. "Chivalry was dead before you were born, Daniel Parrish."
Standing in the opposite corner of the living room, as if it were the other side of a boxing ring, stood Sebastian. Where Parrish was all shine and show, Sebastian exuded a quiet strength. He looked almost like a regular guy, dressed as he was in broken-in, faded blue jeans, and a black button-down shirt. His clothes didn't especially cling to him, but neither did they hide his trim, sculpted body. His black hair was bound neatly into a ponytail, and he had a calm, yet deadly expression on his face that would rival any ninja master's.
"Sebastian Von Traum," Parrish said, pretending to notice him for the first time. "Always a pleasure."
"Likewise." When Sebastian returned Parrish's cold smile, I could see that his fangs had dropped too.
Great, my vampire boys were ready to bite each other.
Unfortunately, I already knew who'd win if it came down to trading blows. Parrish looked tougher with his penchant for leather and steel and a long, sordid history in the criminal underworld, but Sebastian had eight hundred years on him. In vampire terms, Parrish was still minor league; Sebastian was in the majors.
Having been smacked down by Sebastian before only made Parrish pricklier. It wasn't going to take much for him to be spoiling for a rematch.
I needed to say something. But what? Sebastian wasn't supposed to be here. The only reason I could figure why he'd decided to drop by was Lilith. I should have guessed that my spell work would make him all tingly. He always could tell when I drew on Her power.
And it wasn't like he didn't have a key to the place. Sebastian was my boyfriend, after all. He had a toothbrush in my b
athroom and extra underwear in a corner of my sock drawer.
So how did I explain Parrish, who was supposed to be dead… or at the very least drummed out of town? It was pretty obvious thanks to Parrish waving the note around that I was still in contact with him. Not cool, since it was a jealous rage that caused Sebastian to try to kill Parrish the first time.
Meanwhile, Parrish and Sebastian were doing that creepy vampire thing where they stood preternaturally still, not breathing, and glared murderously at each other.
"The FBI came into the store this morning, Parrish," I said, breaking the silence. "Like you said they would."
Parrish turned to look at me, his face instantly softening into concern. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," I said. "It was all pretty crazy, but, well, I'm not sure he knows I'm me."
Parrish chuckled lightly. "And exactly how does that work, love?"
"He was flashing around a picture of Meadow Spring. He didn't recognize me. Well, I mean, I wasn't exactly Mata Hari, so he might suspect, but… well, you know… the eyes."
"Yes, they're very, very different," Parrish agreed.
I heard the faucet in the kitchen come on and realized Sebastian had left the room. I mouthed, "hang on," to Parrish and went in to investigate. I found Sebastian pouring water into my coffeemaker. He'd replaced the filter and the pot, and found the coffee in the freezer.
"You okay?" I asked him from the doorway.
He kept his back to me as he poured beans into the grinder. "Unfinished business, Garnet."
That's what he'd accused me of when Parrish first reappeared in my life. He didn't believe me when I told him things were over between Parrish and me, and I certainly seemed to be proving him right.
Dead Sexy Page 5
