Cantrips: Volume #1: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain

by Joey W. Hill

  Turning away from the bed, he moved to the fire and added another log. She didn’t really get cold, but she liked warmth, the way it pressed against her skin like a lover’s touch. He didn’t give himself to such sensual poetry, of course. She’d told him that once, and he’d remembered it. Such words were thorns she drove into his flesh, tormenting him, goading his resolve.

  He was an intelligent man. She’d told him his brilliant mind was why she’d brought him into her service, and possibly his intellect was the reason he’d been drawn to it. However, though he’d left his monastery to serve her, he had not set aside his vows as a monk. His brothers might consider him no longer one of them, but his oath had been made to God, not to them.

  Because he was an intelligent man, he’d been able to look beyond his fear of his own weak impulses to the mind of the woman he served. It put his to shame, particularly when it came to calculation, testing a man’s mettle. Lady Lyssa needed a full servant, and the past year had been a never-ending audition for it. Yes, she’d tested his resolve to honor his vow of celibacy, and though the woman in her had taken pleasure and amusement in it, her intent had been far more serious and politic. And because he’d understood that, he’d stayed.

  Though she’d tempted him mercilessly in those first three months, there was some invisible cessation point where her taunts became almost affectionate barbs, no longer such a test of his will. While his soul had breathed a sigh of relief, it had been rocked back on its heels by one simple command, given two months ago.

  I am ready to give you the third mark, Thomas. It will make you my full servant, your soul bound to me forever. Before I do that, you will take the Ritual of Binding to a vampire queen. And you will lie with me, to prove your loyalty to me can exist in the same heart that holds your loyalty to God. I will ask it of you only once, but your heart and body must be given to me freely, like the rest of you. If you cannot do that, then I will release you to return to your monastery. She’d paused then, those green eyes vibrant, but she wasn’t done. She was thorough, his lady, and never left any stone unturned.

  On that night, I will also demand to hear what you have never spoken. Why you have chosen to serve me.

  Even though she could read his mind, she knew that forcing a man to say such a thing to a listening ear made it far more binding and concrete, not just nebulous wisps of thought, like clouds scudding away.

  She’d not been willing to negotiate or argue her terms. In their travels, they had debated many things, even argued heatedly like two scholars. But there was a tone that entered her voice when she assumed her queen’s mantle. Those jade eyes had been cool and remote, making it clear there was either acquiescence or departure. Both would be permanent. Forever.

  Had she known he would need two months to decide to stay or run? The thought made him chastise himself. Why did he think of it that way? If he hadn’t been able to reconcile himself to it, he would have left, not run away. He’d come into this relationship with his eyes open.

  She was not like other vampires he knew, and he’d met many since their paths had crossed. Any other vampire mistress would have demanded this act long before tonight, because sexual demands of servants were closely integrated into all aspects of the vampire world. However, part of it was his lady had spent her year up to her slim neck in conflict, addressing the guerilla tactics from those he feared eventually would cause outright war between the vampires. There’d been plenty of vicious brutality and bloodshed going on in the shadows of the oblivious human world, but he already knew they were minor moves on the chessboard for what might come. His lady had a vision for the future, and he could see the knowledge in her eyes, what the cost would ultimately be. She would face it unflinchingly, as she did everything else.

  But he believed there was another reason she hadn’t pushed it before now. She respected him. When he’d come into her service, she’d needed his intellect, his companionship. The reasons he’d found himself here were complicated and simple at once, as much intuition and gut as reasoned thinking. He knew he was an oddity, a monk who wished to be a monk, yet serve God in a way that seemed inconsistent with those vows. She was a vampire equally as unique in her world. Another thing that drew them together.

  At the beginning, she’d made him a first marked servant, the geographical locater merely a protection from the other vampires they might encounter. It was a sigil of her service. As his duties became more involved, he took the second mark, so she could speak in his mind and he in hers, though he did not have the same free access to her thoughts as she did to his. He had told himself it did not concern him. After all, God could be in his mind at any time, so it would be an additional test, to ensure that everything in Thomas’s mind reflected his devotion to His will.

  While he knew his order would scoff at such things, she never did. Nor did she do anything to reassure him what he was doing was right. She left it entirely between him and God...though everything else was subject to her will.

  His faith was predicated on the belief that other men were ordained to know better than he what God demanded—priests, cardinals, the Pope himself. The Bible spoke of sins and betrayed faith. Thomas knew all that, but he could not deny what his heart had told him, the first time he had met her.

  She’d been seeking an ancient manuscript, a history of the Crusades. Specifically, a reference to a knight who had fought in it. The reference had been obscure and vague, no way to tell if it was the man she sought. Even so, Thomas remembered the way she’d placed her fingers on the line of text, her eyes closing, her mouth softening in a way he had not seen since. However, it had been a blinding light into her soul, showing him who she was, this mysterious, dangerous and powerful woman, like no other he’d met.

  After that, she’d engaged him in a lively dialogue about the other histories and texts he had. She spent three days there, apparently to increase her knowledge by testing his. By the time she prepared to leave, he knew what she was. She told him she would take him into her service, if he went willingly. He’d been at the monastery nearly twenty years, yet it took him only one night to decide to leave it, as if all his training and preparation had been for her eventual arrival.

  His place was at her side, not as an abandonment of his faith, but as a reinforcement of it. He’d been sure of it, had rarely doubted it. Tonight, however, that belief would be tested as it had not been before, because it was the first time his service to her would so definitively trespass on promises given to Another.

  He usually laid out a filmy silken gown for her slumber, one that clearly showed her body beneath it. It was her preferred nightwear, a woman of no shame when it came to her sexual beauty. Tonight, though, she’d told him to lay out only a robe.

  “It’s all I’ll need tonight,” she’d said. She’d mentioned it in a careless offhand way during their quarterstaff training. She’d spent time in Japan learning the intricate staff work, and in turn she’d trained Thomas so he could spar with her, though she of course had to slow her movements. He’d missed a step, and gotten his knuckles wrapped for his trouble.

  Not by a flicker did she acknowledge the significance of her words, but he’d felt the impact beyond his smarting knuckles. It had seared through his gut and lower, in parts not even given the relief of his hand for nearly twenty years, let alone the heated silk of a woman’s body.

  Would he shame himself like a boy? Surely not, for she’d tested him so often this past year that restraint should be second nature. But there was a keen difference between her honeyed words, her casual touches, and being bare together by the light of this fire, his body between her legs, his cock... Ah, God help him, he hadn’t thought so much about his cock over two decades as he had in the past two months. All monks figured out ways to get past the involuntary urges, accept and eventually quell the desires that came in the middle of the night, the churning need of the male body to spend. To deny it made one stronger for God, that energy channeled into prayer and service. Tonight, he was going to c
hannel it into its animal purpose. As the moment grew closer, he was more desperate to understand if he was acting on his desires or God’s.

  Realizing his pacing was wearing a hole in the Persian rug, he dropped to his knees on the stone near the fire, putting his head near enough to the heat to feel the burn through his hair. Dear Father, I have prayed about this so much. I believe it is Your Will that I serve her, to the extent you will overlook this one night, but forgive me, I do not know if an overly developed intellect masquerades as divination of Your Purpose, to have what my man’s greedy soul might want...

  He could remain her second mark servant. After all, he served her well in that capacity. But he’d known his destiny was to be far more to her. As her third mark servant he could help her in ways he would never be able to do as a second mark, giving her strength and support she would need in the days ahead. No one else in her retinue was as close to her, understood her mind the way he did. That was not a boast – it was a tricky, dangerous path every day, something that drove his conflict to even deeper levels when he saw he had a knack for it that no one else did. She knew it, too. Why else would God have brought him into her life?

  He knew what others of his order would say. The Devil was equally as capable of bringing such influences into a man’s life. But he’d long ago faced the truth—that every choice and decision lay in a man’s heart. No other man or institution could bear the responsibility or blame for it. There was no one between him and God on this. He had to follow what his own soul told him to do.

  “Thomas.”

  He hadn’t heard her come in, so deep had been his contemplation. Or perhaps she’d chosen to move as a vampire, so silent that no man could see her when she did not wish to be seen. He lifted his head, tilted it so he could find her in the corner of his gaze, though for the first time in their relationship, he found it too difficult to look at her directly. “My lady.”

  Her gaze passed over the bed, lingering on the rose. “White, the color of death. Or of endings. Is this your answer?”

  “No, my lady. But I am...” She would not tolerate prevarication. He could not assuage his soul by justifying his actions to her. So he stopped before he started. He made himself get to his feet, turn and face her, meet her gaze. “No, my lady. White can also be the color of beginnings. Or a reflection of your fair skin.”

  “So it can. Though a monk should hardly be considering a woman’s fair skin.”

  “Well, the night seems to call for a certain amount of gallantry.”

  A faint smile touched her lips, but he was absurdly touched by the seriousness of her gaze, an acknowledgment of what this might cost him. She would not mock or tease him tonight, not that way. Pulling the sticks from her hair, she let it tumble down her shoulders, all the way to her hips. That glory of ebony silk would soon be filling his hands. It was much easier to resist when he knew it was not his to touch. Now, when it would be required, it was almost impossible not to feel it already sliding over his palms.

  If he unleashed this longing growing in his breast, would he ever leash it back again? Could he serve them both?

  “You’ve never been nervous in my presence. Even when you understood what I was. You are different from most monks. You fence my sharpest wit like an expert swordsman, you endure my subtle taunts with a resigned smile and a dry humor that makes me laugh, when nothing else can. I’m in your mind, I’ve seen you quell your desire, the way you quell hunger or any other natural impulse. You have more discipline than any human I have ever met. But you’re nervous now, aren’t you?”

  No use denying it. “Yes, my lady. I am.”

  “I like it.” She leaned in the door frame, accentuating her hips in the men’s trousers she’d donned for her practice, pants that hugged her body indecently. But nothing about her had ever seemed indecent to him. She seemed above such rules.

  “Did you talk to your God?”

  “He is your God as well, my lady. But yes.”

  “Hmm. If you have spoken to him, made what peace you are going to, then we leave Him outside this door.” Turning, she closed it with a significant click, shot the bolt home, then gave him a glance, filled with sensual power and yet amusement that could be tender and merciless at once. “That leaves just you and me, doesn’t it?”

  Thomas wondered. He couldn’t imagine even God denying Himself the pleasure of seeing what would happen next in this energy-charged room that suddenly seemed much warmer. God have mercy on my soul.

  Her lips curved. She’d heard the thought.

  Ask Him for mercy, Thomas. Because I shall give you none. Not until dawn.

  Part Two

  “You are taking unseemly joy in this, my lady. Like a man given a virgin to defile.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “My intent is not to defile you, only ensure myself of your loyalty.”

  “Practically, I’m not sure how this proves that. Very few men could resist your charms.” In fact, if Jesus had met Lady Lyssa in the desert instead of Satan, Thomas was sure Christian history would have turned out far differently.

  Because she was inside his mind, that surprised a chuckle out of her. But her voice softened. “You are an exceedingly devout man, Thomas. If you defined your faith only by brick and mortar and holy texts writ by men, you would have given in to temptation a hundred times by now. I have certainly tested it.” In her gaze he saw the sensual reflection of it, every time she’d bade him bathe her, dress her hair, lie in her bed so she could curl around him, absorb his warm and companionship while she slept. “Your order has shut the door against you. But you have not abandoned your oath to God.”

  Until tonight. He couldn’t help the thought, but of course she heard it.

  “You have the sense to know better. Don’t become mindlessly pious on me.” No softness in her voice now, a cue he’d learned to read well. His spine automatically straightened, his senses sharpening. She arched a perfect brow. “Show me the scars I put upon you.”

  Two nights ago, he’d taken the Ritual of Binding to a Vampire Queen. She’d used a whip, striped him with it fifty times. She’d soaked the single tail in her own blood so the lashes would leave these permanent scars, despite a second mark’s advanced healing ability. As a third mark, he would never have another scar except this, an intentional branding.

  I am sworn to your service. Compelled by absolute loyalty, I safeguard your well-being before my own or any other ties of family or friendship. I swear it by the giving of my blood to you and before all of Divinity, may my life be cursed and my soul be damned if I speak false or ever betray the vow.

  The ancient vow he’d said to her echoed in his mind. Had the words required he put her above Divinity, he wasn’t sure he could have done it, because he’d gotten this far believing the vows were not in competition. Until tonight.

  That phrase was going to be branded on his mind like those lashes, though Lyssa’s faint tone of scorn had told him she wouldn’t tolerate false guilt. The fact he was going ahead with it said so. Even if she wasn’t in his mind, he expected she’d never let a man hide from the truth of his soul, however base or noble its intent.

  She made a noise, reminding him she’d given him a command. He was wearing a coarse linen shirt over workman’s trousers and boots. It was clean and modest, neat, something over which he could easily don a jacket and dress up if she had guests, but which worked well otherwise for his work around the plantation, tending the garden, helping the staff with repairs or reading in the orchard.

  Now though, stripping off the shirt was like taking off his skin. It was another mystery, why he felt self-conscious at this point. While she was entirely immodest with him in her bath and dressing areas, she had no compunction about invading his privacy the same way. Many times, when he’d been bathing, she’d come to watch him.

  She hadn’t cloaked it in a pretense of conversation. She’d sat on a chair in silence and studied his naked male form in detail, making it clear it was her right to do so, to take whatever pleasure s
he wished in the sight of his hands cupping and lathering his genitals, the stretch of his body, the length of an arm as he rubbed soap over the firm expanse of skin over his rib cage and the indentation of arm pit, the curve of biceps. The first time she’d ever come upon him like that, he’d practically leapt out of the tub like a squealing girl and taken refuge behind a bush.

  “You startled me, my lady,” he’d stammered. “What may I do for you?”

  “What you are doing. I will watch you, Thomas. Whenever I wish. Come out of there.”

  Her eyes had stayed fixed upon him, as intently as they were now, until he stepped out from behind the foliage. Lord in Heaven, his stomach had been quaking. There’d been a tremor through his legs, but it wasn’t that reaction which caused him the most mortification. He’d continued bathing even as he became fully erect in front of her. Because of that and a wealth of other reasons, he hadn’t washed his cock and balls. He had absolutely no intention of doing so. Not in front of her. However, not for the first time, she reminded him how clever she was.

  “You missed a spot, Thomas. A substantial one. If you will not clean it yourself, you’ll goad me to do it. I won’t suffer an unclean servant.”

  “I think you’re the one goading, my lady.”

  “Testing. Whether you pass or fail is entirely up to me.”

  Now, returning to the present, he considered her. “You’ve watched me bathe before, my lady.”

  Her gaze touched his chest, the muscled lines of his arms and abdomen. He helped with the manual labor, tending horses, clearing brush and making repairs, not liking to be idle when she didn’t need him, or he wasn’t at prayer or study. Vanity was a sin, but he couldn’t help the way the obvious pleasure in her regard uncurled warmth inside of him, tightening his lower abdomen and hardening his cock even further. She noted that, the increased constriction of the pants revealed to her.