by Ann Gimpel
“Shit!” Colleen ran to him and knelt by his side. He might be immortal, but that didn’t mean other bad things couldn’t happen. Bubba hissed, long and low. Jenna screamed a warning.
Because her awareness was focused on Duncan, she hadn’t been paying attention to the manacled demon. Somehow, it had gotten behind her. It snugged the handcuffs against her throat and pulled hard. She writhed, trying to escape it, but it was too close and too strong. Metal bands dug into her throat, cutting off her airway. She heard pathetic choking noises and realized she was making them. Dark spots danced through her vision. The demon bent her head back. Its face was inches from hers. If she didn’t do something, it would have her. Mouth atop hers, it would absorb her soul. If that happened, she’d join their ranks.
“Nooooo,” she shrieked with what little air she had left.
Jenna hurled herself at the demon, tackling it from the side. Colleen’s head snapped back with a crack that reverberated through her skull, but at least she could breathe again. She shot to her feet and stumbled away from where Jenna and the demon rolled around on the floor. Bubba slithered up the demon’s body and buried his fangs in its neck.
Duncan opened his eyes, took in the scene, and roared his displeasure. He bounded to his feet. The air crackled with power as he summoned killing magic. He held it between his hands, apparently so overcome with the energy, he couldn’t speak, but he tilted his head toward the demon.
Colleen understood the problem. “Bubba! Jenna!” she cried. “Let go now!” They did, rolling and skidding out of the way, just as Duncan released a stunning blast of magic into the Irichna. The room pulsed with light so bright, it looked like lightning had struck. Colleen squinted, trying to see. Maybe because this demon was partially bound with iron, which had to have muted its magic, it vanished much faster than the first one had.
Magic pulsed from Roz’s hands. She taunted the third demon. “How about a one way ticket to Hell, buddy, with me as your escort? My partners here will bind you and then we’ll take a little trip.”
“We’re on it,” Colleen said and plucked a set of handcuffs from the pile. She smiled grimly. One demon felt imminently manageable.
Jenna grabbed a set of leg irons. She and Colleen converged on the last demon. It eyed them balefully. The changeling, still in snake form, glided between them, hissing. With a long, snarling hoot, the demon became less substantial. Colleen tried to snap manacles on it, but they cut through empty air. Finally, even the last vestiges of the thing shimmered into nothingness.
Colleen shook her head to clear a sudden dizziness that threatened to engulf her. She forced deep, healing breaths, willing oxygen into the very bottom of her lungs. Maybe it would cut through the stench of demon that still hung heavy the room.
Duncan stumbled to a window and heaved it open. He bent his upper body, shoving it outside, and Colleen heard him gulping air that wasn’t tainted by iron. However bad she might be feeling, he was probably much worse. She thrust her own discomfort aside, raced to him, and put an arm around his waist. “Are you all right? Christ! I was worried sick when you passed out.”
He made a sound between a snort and a grunt. “I did not pass out. I was merely resting.”
She blew out an amused breath. “Yeah, right. Your eyes were closed and you were barely breathing. In my book. That’s passed out.”
“Whatever.” He turned his head, looked at her, and winked. “All’s well that ends well, sweetheart. We’ll live to fight another day.” He ginned up what was probably meant to be a lascivious grin, but he was still a bit green about the gills. “I want to wrap my arms around you and hold you, but you’ve got to get all that iron out of here first.”
She leaned into him, reveling in how good he felt, then let go and turned to face the rest of the witches who’d gathered around Roz, Jenna, and Bubba. “How about if you get that iron out of here, then we can all go downstairs and sort things out.”
“Are they coming back?” one of the witches asked. She didn’t have to define who she meant by they, Colleen knew.
“Probably, but not today,” Roz said.
“And not necessarily back here,” Jenna added.
“Yes, that’s one of the things we need to discuss,” Colleen cut in too tired to be anything other than forthright.
Bubba slithered over to her and rubbed his reptilian head against her leg. She eyed him. “No demons to borrow power from, huh?” His snake’s tongue flashed out. Maybe he was agreeing, or laughing. She’d have to ask him once he could talk again. “What’ll it be, Bubs? Cat?” The snake shook his head. Colleen flicked magic his way, surprised she had enough left to do anything. The changeling morphed back to his gnome’s body and shook himself.
“I helped.” Pride rang in his voice.
“Yes,” Colleen smiled at him. “You did. A lot.”
“What is he?” a witch asked.
“Pretty handy, I’d say,” another witch chimed in.
“Yes,” said a third. “Whatever he is, I want one.”
Bubba drew himself up. “I’m a changeling and we pick our magical partners.” He shot Colleen a look. “You don’t have to remind me. I’ll get my clothes out of your bag.”
“I’ll get them,” Roz said and plucked Colleen’s backpack from where it was partially buried beneath the bloody remains of Mathilde’s body.
“Ewwww. Not sure I want anything out of there.” Bubba screwed up his face in disgust.
“Everything inside is fine,” Roz informed him. She reached into the bag and handed him a shirt and pants. The witch snorted and smoothed a hand down her still-intact clothing. “At least none of us had to shift.”
Colleen rubbed her throat. It felt swollen and bruised from where the demon had nearly strangled her. She would have shifted then if she could, but magic required air and the demon had caught her unawares. “We can talk about changelings downstairs too,” she told the witches. “Let’s move the iron, so Duncan, my, um sort of fiancé, can leave this room without fainting again.”
“I like the sound of what you called me, minus the qualifier.” Duncan turned so the open window was at his back and smiled broadly. “Leave a man a spot of pride, would you? I know you’re teasing, but I did not faint. That vein of magic I borrowed liberally from is like harnessing lightning. Takes damn near everything out of me. Having enough iron to shoe an entire cavalry troop right next to me didn’t help.”
“Point taken. I’ll stand down.” Colleen laughed, but it made her throat hurt. She exchanged glances with Roz and Jenna. “Well, gals, we did it again.”
“Me too,” Bubba said.
“You too.” Colleen squatted and held out her arms. The changeling trotted to her and gave her a hug.
“We barely did it,” Roz conceded.
“By the skin of our teeth,” Jenna muttered.
“Doesn’t matter.” The fierce undercurrent in Colleen’s voice surprised her. “Like Duncan just told me, we’ll live to fight another day.” Bubba let go and she straightened.
The Coven witches grabbed armfuls of iron and left the room. Finally, only the five of them were left. “Shall we?” Colleen said.
“Absolutely.” Duncan moved to her side, draped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her against him. “I want to figure out what this group knows about Mathilde and her link to the Irichna.”
“We all do. You two can play kissy-face later,” Roz growled. “Do you want this?” She waved Colleen’s blood and gore splattered rucksack in the air.
“Nope. Think it’s time to buy another one.”
Roz snorted. “Somehow I thought you’d see it that way.” She scooped the rest of Colleen’s things out of it, dropped the backpack into a waste can and led the way downstairs.
“Why’d you say that about playing kissy-face? We weren’t doing anything,” Colleen asked, as she made her way down several flights of stairs.
“You were thinking about it,” Jenna answered before Roz had a chance. “Keep moving. I want
to find somewhere to sit. I’m about done in.”
“Here’s your stuff.” Roz handed the backpack’s contents to Colleen and she stacked her clothes and wallet on a side table before following Roz from the bottom of the stairs to a large dining room. The witches had been busy. A long side table was laden with cheese, crackers, cookies, tea and coffee pots, and a staggering array of liquor bottles. Colleen placed a few slices of cheese and some soft cookies on a plate. Figuring something warm would soothe her inflamed throat, she poured a cup of tea and added honey to it.
“Between that plate and cup, it looks like you’re out of hands,” Duncan noted. “Would you like me to pour us a glass of something alcoholic?”
“Sure. I don’t have a preference. Just pick something.”
Eventually, they worked their way into a luxurious meeting room lined with rows of chairs and small tables. A fire burned merrily in a huge stone fireplace that took up one end of the cozy space. Old-fashioned chandeliers were festooned with unlit candles. Witches motioned them to a raised dais cattycorner from the fireplace. Colleen set her plate and cup down and took a long drink of tea. The warm liquid and honey helped a lot. She dropped onto a padded chair. Duncan sat on one side, Bubba on her other. Roz and Jenna settled in the seats next to Bubba.
“Whew!” Jenna toed off her shoes. “My feet are killing me.”
Colleen glanced under the table. “It’s your penchant for high heels. Now if you’d develop a taste for nice, practical boots…” Jenna ignored her, spread a cracker with cream cheese, and popped it into her mouth.
“Old argument?” Duncan asked archly and quirked a brow.
“Very old.” Colleen drank more of her tea.
A buzzing, whispery noise filled the room. One of the witches Colleen remembered from the tribunal that had grilled Duncan, walked to the front of the room, mounted the dais, and raised her hands for silence. The hall quieted instantly. The witch turned and bowed to Colleen. Her long black hair swept the floor. Brilliant blue eyes glowed in her olive-skinned face. About five foot eight, with a willowy build, she could have been anywhere from thirty to a hundred. Witches rarely aged, unless they wanted to. Rather than the robes she’d worn the other day, she was dressed in a long, black skirt and a multicolored top, hand painted with runic symbols.
“I am Naomi, second in command here. First, I wish to thank you. You saved many of us from certain death.”
Colleen rose and bowed in return. “You are most welcome.” She remained on her feet and waited. Naomi must have questions—lots of them.
“Is Mathilde going to return?” Naomi’s voice was stern, but worry flickered in the depths of her eyes.
“No. She’s dead.” Colleen reached for her cup, but Duncan gave her the glass with whiskey in it. She took a tentative sip, unsure how liquor would react with her sore throat. It wasn’t as bad as she feared; she only sputtered a little.
Naomi squared her slender shoulders. “Probably not supper conversation, but how do you know Mathilde is dead?”
Colleen considered her answer and then decided to ask a question of her own. “Did you know Mathilde parlayed with the Irichna?” She sent a truth spell to eddy between them; the other witch’s eyes widened, and then she nodded her understanding.
“I didn’t know, not for certain, but I suspected something was wrong. Mathilde hadn’t been herself for months, maybe as much as a couple of years. The changes were so slight at first, I barely noticed them.” She shrugged. “One subtle change, piled atop another, added up. A group of us,” she spread her arms to encompass the witches scattered through the room, “were getting closer to a direct confrontation. We asked Coven Central for help, but they turned us down.”
“Funny. The same thing happened to us,” Roz said.
Naomi focused her intense blue gaze on Roz. “Recently?”
“Very. Between our last visit here and this one.”
Naomi’s dark brows drew together. “That doesn’t seem right,” she murmured.
“No shit.” Roz said succinctly. “We wondered just what Mathilde threatened that would intimidate such a powerful group of witches.”
“Maybe you should ask them?” Duncan spoke up. “Seems safe enough now that Mathilde’s been reduced to that pile of bone chips and protoplasm in the upstairs room.”
“Ewwww,” ran through the assemblage and, “So that’s what all that was.”
Naomi pounded on a table for order and got it. “We will gather her remains and burn them. I need volunteers.” A few hands shot up. “Thank you.” Naomi scanned the group. “To respect who Mathilde once was, we will hold a ceremonial farewell at dawn tomorrow. Those of you who wish to will meet behind the house half an hour before sunrise.”
Colleen took another sip from the glass in her hands. She waited until Naomi turned back to her and said, “We’ll be leaving soon.”
Naomi pressed her lips together and nodded, as if to herself. “I understand how tired you must be, and I would never hold you against your will, but I’m hoping you won’t go before you tell us how vulnerable we are to another demon attack. It’s clear to me now that Mathilde opened some sort of pathway between their world and this house. I need to know how to close it, permanently.”
“We want to know more about the changeling too,” someone called out.
Bubba broke off shoveling food into his mouth long enough to wave enthusiastically and answer, “Glad to oblige.”
Duncan got to his feet, ruffled the changeling’s hair, and hooked an arm through Colleen’s. He sucked in an audible breath. “I suppose I should have discussed this with you first, but I didn’t.” He turned his clear, green gaze toward Naomi. “Colleen has agreed to be my wife—”
Heat whooshed from her chest all the way to the top of her head. “I—I may have in a private moment, but, but…”
He moved the arm hooked through hers around her waist. “But nothing. I’m about to ask for Naomi’s blessing. If she agrees, my next request will be if someone here would perform whatever is traditional amongst you to bind couples in marriage. Would this help?” He sank to one knee before her and placed a hand over his heart. “Colleen Kelly, you’d make me the happiest man alive if—”
A titter began in one corner of the room, spreading rapidly, along with a chorus of oohs and aahs. Witches surged to their feet and moved closer. A smattering of applause broke out.
“Oh for Pete’s sake, get up would you?” Colleen grabbed one of his hands and tugged hard. Despite her embarrassment, her heart cracked open, overflowing with joy. Duncan was amazing. Not only was he drop dead gorgeous. He was funny and kind and considerate. Good at anticipating her needs too. And he understood her amazingly well, probably because he spent so much time in her head…like he probably was right this minute. “Oops.” She eyed him through downcast lashes.
He grinned and gestured with both hands, looking both innocent and guilty as sin, all at the same time. “Why of course I was in your mind, but I’m all those things and more. Keep your thoughts coming, darling. Nectar to my heart, balm to my soul.”
Colleen couldn’t help herself. She laughed, ignoring her lacerated throat. “Egotistical beast.” She mock swatted him. “Now that you’ve had a turn through my head, will you please get up?”
Duncan flowed to his feet, and walked to Naomi. “Would you bless us and marry us, even though I’m not one of you?”
The witch’s blue eyes twinkled. “It would be my pleasure, but we must wait until the signs are auspicious.”
He cocked his head to one side. “How will you figure that out?”
She crooked a finger at him. “Once we’re done asking questions, and you’re done answering them, and eating, you and Colleen will join me for a Tarot session. If the cards are good to you, I’ll cast your astrological charts and check their synastry.”
Chapter Seventeen
Duncan was tired, and anxious to be alone with Colleen. Night had arrived hours ago, and was nearly spent. Though he was a veteran
of many marathon Sidhe meetings, nonetheless he’d been ready to bid the Coven witches farewell hours ago. Colleen leaned heavily against him as they walked across the lush, damp lawn in search of their lodging.
“I can’t believe how wiped out I am,” she murmured.
“You have every right to be. We didn’t get much sleep last night and you’ve fought Irichna twice in twenty-four hours.” He kissed her forehead. “My brave darling. Once we’re inside, I’ll see what I can do about healing your throat. It’s bruised up something fierce.”
“That would be nice. It hurts.”
He twisted the skeleton key in the lock and pushed open the door to one of several guest cottages scattered about the grounds of the Witches’ Northwest compound. Jenna, Roz, and Bubba were in the cottage right next to them, presumably already asleep, since they’d excused themselves once the Coven witches had run out of questions.
The Coven had spent hours asking about everything from ways to ensure Mathilde’s gateway could be well and truly closed, to how they could rustle up a dozen changelings.
Once he and Colleen were finally done with that, they’d trailed after Naomi. True to her word, she’d cast several Tarot spreads before moving to her computer and asking them for birth data for her astrology program. He’d told her he was nearly certain her computer program wouldn’t include his birthdate, but she’d arched a brow, said many witches were quite old, and muttered something about extrapolation based on planetary cycles. A few key strokes later, she’d declared him and Colleen a perfect match, and set their nuptials for ten days hence, during the winter solstice. Sometime between now and then, he’d have to find Titania and square things with her. And then there was the follow-up Sidhe council meeting where he’d promised to make a good faith effort to show up with the witches in tow. It would be a busy few days.
Colleen fired her mage light, gazed around the cottage, and gasped. “Oh my. This is charming. Like a hobbit hole.”
“Without the tiny, round doors, fortunately.” Duncan pulled the door shut behind them and sent magic skittering across the room to light a fire someone had thoughtfully laid in the grate. The cottage was cozy, with knotty pine walls, and overstuffed chintz furniture. Rag rugs were placed strategically on a polished, hardwood floor. An inviting bed, strewn with plump pillows and comforters, was visible through an open doorway. A second door probably led into a bathroom.
