9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC

by Unknown

  Talon cupped her face and brushed a light kiss against her mouth. “Trust me, Saylym when I tell you it’s dangerous. It’s Beltane. Wakens already feel the effects. You certainly don’t want a warlock catching your scent and coming after you. Some wakens have already made their claim on their chosen mate. Others will be on the prowl, but warlocks are a different breed. They have no consideration for their chosen female at all.”

  He brushed a wayward curl back from her face. “Female witches give off a special scent this time of year. Warlocks respond just the same as male witches.” His eyes searched her face. “It’s a fertile time, a time for renewing life, and females are bred, at least those that can get with child. Some are bred indiscriminately by wakens or warlocks, and even demons. I only want to ensure your safety. Though you are claimed, you cannot go out on the streets at night without a male escort.”

  She shook her head, smiling, and he knew she didn’t believe a word he said. She was so damned innocent, it broke his heart. He reached inside his shirt pocket. “I have something for you.”

  Saylym gasped as he placed a small, yellow kitten in her hands. “Where did you get her?”

  “Him,” he corrected. “His name is Topaz.”

  She laughed softly as the kitten licked the palm of her hand, and then nipped at her fingertips with its sharp baby teeth. “He’s precious.”

  Talon arched a brow. “I doubt it, but he’s for you. Topaz, do you accept this witch?”

  The kitten lifted its tiny head and mewled softly in answer.

  “Saylym, do you accept Topaz?”

  Saylym grinned. “It sounds as though you’re marrying us. Yes, I accept Topaz.” She stroked the kitten’s gold colored fur.

  Talon released a deep pent-up breath. Another hurdle passed.

  He pressed a light kiss to her mouth. “You’re already part of the way mine, Saylym Winslow. I have to go now. Goodnight, sweetheart. And Topaz?” He shook a finger at the kitten. “Behave yourself.”

  The kitten blinked innocently at Talon.

  * * * *

  Saylym held the kitten in her hands and watched Talon walk away. Absently, she stroked the yellow fur. The man knew how to tug at a woman’s heartstrings.

  She frowned, wondering vaguely what he meant by saying she was already partly his? Probably something to do with the fact that he’d touched her but not taken her virginity or his continued belief he was a waken. Despite all the evidence she had seen, she was still not quite convinced of this. He might be a professional magician.

  “So, he gave you a Futhar of his choosing.”

  Saylym jumped at the sound of Eldora’s cackling voice behind her.

  “Futhar?” She eyed the kitten suspiciously.

  Eldora grinned and nodded her white head. “That is one serious young man, missy. Not only has he marked you as his, but he also took the first steps of the bonding ritual. It’s a very significant thing when a waken chooses a Futhar for a witch. It’s like purchasing a ring. His intent is plain to see. He will be ritually mating with you by the zenith, if not before.”

  Eldora snickered and rubbed her hands together. “I couldn’t have chosen a better waken for you.”

  Saylym’s jaw dropped. “It’s just a kitten. There’s nothing significant about it.” Eyeing the kitten she held in her arms, she grinned. “My ferocious protector.”

  “Oh ho, you mark my words, missy. That young man has every intention of making you his.” Her eyes sparkled with approval. “He’s a good man. He’ll take care of you. Keep you safe.”

  Eldora hummed beneath her breath, then did a little jig, digging the toes of her pointed yellow shoes in the dirt. She twirled around and around, giggling like a young girl. “Oh, to be a young, horny witch again, and have a stud muffin sniffing at the portals of pleasure.”

  “Eldora!” Saylym giggled. “Sniffing?”

  Eldora wiggled her snowy brows and sighed. “Indeed, those were the days.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Bridget Bishop was hanged in Salem. Hers was the first official execution of the Salem witch trials. Following her death, accusations of witchcraft escalated in Salem and neighboring villages, but the trials were not unopposed. Several townspeople signed petitions on behalf of the accused they believed to be innocent.

  ~Bridget Bishop

  “I am no witch. I am innocent. I know nothing of it.”

  ~ Salem Witch Trials

  June 10, 1692

  Ru-Noc

  Droth

  City of the wakens

  It was past seven in the evening when Talon entered the palace. The guards saluted him, some snapped to attention while others dipped their heads in silent greeting as he passed. With a slight nod of his head, he acknowledged their cordial gestures and started up the wide, crystal staircase.

  He needed to find his father and inform him of what he’d learned about Saylym and his decision to bond with her. After that, he intended to return to Saylym, order the bonding ceremony, and finish this thing once and for all. He wanted it done and over with, the sooner the better. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was running out of time.

  He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Saylym was in full season and ready to breed.

  And he was more than ready to mate with her. Breeding her was another matter and something he still wanted to give careful consideration. Once he planted his seed in her, there would be no going back. He didn’t know yet if he was willing to risk fathering an Impure. As a second-generation Impure, the child’s ability to perform magic would be considerably limited.

  Talon froze. Shit! He didn’t really know how many generations of Impures ran in Saylym’s family. He had simply assumed she was a half-breed, but her blood could be diluted more than that. Depending on what generation she was, a child between them might be born with no magic skills whatsoever.

  Troubled, Talon started on up the staircase when a guard called out to him, “If you’re searching for the king, he’s in the Council Hall.”

  Damn. That meant his father was probably meeting with the guild. He wouldn’t have a moment alone with him. He certainly didn’t want to discuss the possibility that Saylym’s blood could be more diluted than he originally reported in front of the elders. He blew out a long breath in frustration and changed direction, moving past the tall columns and toward the Council Hall.

  A guard stationed near the door halted him. “I’m sorry Prince, but the king doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

  Talon frowned. “He’s expecting me. I have something important to discuss with him.”

  The guard stepped in front of the door, blocking the entrance. “I have my orders, Prince. I’m sorry. The king has a guest and they are…discussing business.”

  Talon nodded. “Very well. I’ll try later.”

  He retraced his footsteps to the staircase. He’d take this opportunity to visit with his mother. He’d barely started down the wide corridor after climbing the grand staircase when he felt something rub against his leg. He bent down and picked up the cat.

  “Celine. What are you doing out here in the hall?”

  Celine was his mother’s Futhar, a beautiful, pure white, longhaired Persian feline with exotically slanted turquoise eyes. His father had given her to his mother on their bonding day. It was rare that the feline was away from Helayne’s side.

  Celine wrapped her long tail around his arm and purred. “The queen has the sniffles. She was afraid I’d catch it, so she barricaded me from her chambers. She won’t allow anyone in there I’m afraid.”

  “Damn,” Talon said. “Well, you can’t stay out here in the hall. Come with me. I have the perfect home for you, sweet lady, until Mother is feeling better.”

  Celine grinned, her mouth wide with a smile. “Purr-fect.”

  * * * *

  Sanctuary

  The following morning, Saylym perched on a kitchen barstool sipping a glass of orange juice and keeping a wary eye on the yellow kitten Talon had given her.
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  She narrowed her eyes, suspicious of the gift she’d accepted. At least, she thought it was the same kitten, but if so, then it was the fastest growing kitty known to mankind.

  Perhaps she should make that the fastest growing kitty known to witchkind. Overnight, Topaz had left kitten-hood behind and sprung to the size of a full-fledged tomcat, an immense tomcat with orange, white, and black stripes. He was now the size of a half-grown tiger.

  The way the big cat watched her with those slumberous, greenish-gold eyes, made her wonder if it wasn’t considering her for a snack. Now she knew exactly how a defenseless mouse felt when cornered by something that looked as big and dangerous as this little ‘kitty’.

  She definitely felt like prey. She snorted. “Domesticated, my ass.”

  The animal had woken her before dawn by leaping onto her chest and giving her chin a few licks with his sandpaper rough tongue. She screamed and tried to push the cat off her, but the thing weighed a ton. It meowed pitifully, begging for something to eat.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have any cat food. Go find a mouse.”

  She couldn’t believe something that big actually meowed instead of rumbling its demands for food. She half expected the darn thing to roar its displeasure, but the cat bailed off her chest and disappeared as if it understood her command.

  Now it was back, and Saylym could swear she saw something long and slender with a few damp, scraggly hairs, sticking out of its mouth.

  “Is that a rat’s tail, I see?” she asked faintly. Gross!

  A look of smug satisfaction glittered in the cat’s yellow eyes. He gave a loud gulp. “Not any more. Now don’t get all female on me. You told me to find a rat. So I did.”

  “No, I told you to find a mouse—” Saylym froze. She widened her eyes. “You can talk!” she squeaked. “You talk! Oh. My. God! You sound just like Humphrey Bogart.”

  The cat stood up on two feet, yawned behind a big paw as if bored and walked closer toward her—on two feet.

  “Well, of course I can talk. I can walk upright. I can even cook in a pinch, but don’t expect me to do it. I’m your Futhar, and I confess I stole old Humphrey’s voice years ago. I mean hell, he’s dead. He and Bacall can’t boogie any more. Right? Besides, I can imitate the voice of any illumrof movie star.”

  “Right.” Saylym nodded her head. “Futhar?” She simply must learn the meaning of that word.

  “Familiar is probably the term you’re…familiar with.”

  She swore the big cat grinned at her and of course, she must be seeing things. He couldn’t possibly walk about on two legs. She blinked. She really must get her eyes checked, and soon. “Oh, no. No, this isn’t happening. Familiars belong to witches…and I’m not a witch. I’m not. I’m not a witch. Hummmmm.”

  “Cupcake, I don’t wanna piss in your Toasties or anything equally droll, but witches actually belong to familiars, not the other way round, and you, my dear, are a witch. A very sexy one, too. No wonder Talon lusts after you. Why, if I didn’t prefer felines, I might try to get in your pants myself. Whaddaya say, Toots, think you’d be interested in a piece of Tom cat?”

  Saylym slid off the barstool, flapping her arms at him as she side-stepped around the big cat. “No! Absolutely not. Shoo! Shoo! Get out of here, kitty.”

  The cat flattened its ears, dropped onto all fours, and arched its back. “Shoo?” He sounded mortally offended. “As in shoo fly or shoo chicken? I think I’m going to throw up.”

  Saylym blinked at the sound of indignation in the cat’s voice. She stifled the moan that threatened to leap from her throat. Why was it that every time she was alone, something walked or talked to her that wasn’t supposed to? “I’m going to kill Talon.”

  “Because he wants to get in your pants? Sweetie, he’s only doing what comes natural to a waken when a witch is in heat.”

  “In heat?” Saylym blinked. “In heat! For crying out loud, I’m not in heat! And damn it, I’m not a witch!”

  “Call me Topaz, baby. And, oh yeah, you’re definitely in heat. Very hot. I’d say you’re going to melt the socks right off his Royal Highness. Probably melt his wand, too.”

  Saylym edged around the cat. “What do you know about it, you little fur ball?”

  “Little? I’ll have you know, I’m one of the largest of my breed.” He rolled his eyes. “And I know, because I slept beside you last night. Your body wafted off all those rich pheromones that just turn a waken to stone, as in hard-on, Toots. I’m surprised Talon hasn’t kicked in your door and done the nasty with you already.”

  Saylym shook her head. “I don’t believe this. I’m going to my bedroom to get dressed. And you, cat, stay out of my room and off my bed!”

  She muttered beneath her breath as she slammed her bedroom door behind her. Apparently, closed doors were no barrier against Futhars, because the door slammed inward, and Topaz strolled in, pausing to lick a paw. “I go where you go, cupcake. You’re mine now. I accepted you and you accepted me. We’re lifetime partners. I’m your Futhar, and Futhars stay with their masters or as in your case, mistress.”

  “Fine,” Saylym yelled, hands on hips.

  “Hey, cut the racket! I’m trying to sleep!”

  Saylym whirled to glare at the fierce blood-shot eyeball on the headboard of the bed. She pointed her fingers at the bed, wiggling them. “Oh, shut up!”

  Sparks flew from her fingertips and hit the eyeball dead center.

  The oversized lips parted and let out a howl. “Ahhhh! Me eye! Me eye! Yee’ve blinded me eye! Ahhhh!”

  Saylym whirled to look at the cat. “Oh, my God,” she faintly. “I murdered its eye!”

  “Shazam! You go, girl,” Topaz rumbled in a Gomer Pyle voice.

  The big cat rolled his eyes as Saylym crumpled to the floor, in what he assumed, was a thing known as a faint.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Rebecca Nurse, Susannah Martin, Elizabeth Howe, Sarah Wildes and Sarah Good were tried for witchcraft and condemned. In an effort to expose the witches afflicting his life, Joseph Ballard of nearby Andover enlisted the aid of the accusing girls of Salem. His action marked the beginning of the Andover witch hunt.

  ~Rebecca Nurse

  “Oh Lord, help me! It is false. I am clear. For my life now lies in your hands…”

  ~Salem Witch Trials

  June 29 to Mid-July, 1692

  Sanctuary

  “Okay, Prince, now would be a good time to pop in,” Topaz yelled, eyeing the little witch’s pale face with a degree of curiosity and awe. “I can’t believe she just toppled over like that.”

  Instantly, Talon popped in to Saylym’s bedroom. “What did you do to her?” he asked.

  Talon lowered the Persian to the floor and lifted Saylym into his arms. “And what is that awful screeching?”

  “The bed, Prince. She zapped it. Bam! She wiggled her fingers and murdered the eye. Blinded the poor thing, she did. Pointed her fingers straight at it just like she knew what she was doin’. It’s been screeching ever since, ‘Me eye, me eye.’ It’s enough to drive a Futhar crazy. And whaddaya mean, ‘What did I do to her?’ ” He sniffed, offended. “She just keeled over like a dead mouse. I did nothing, Boss. I swear. Her eyes just sort of rolled in the back of her head, she turned puke-green, and she keeled over. Bam! She cracked the back of her head hard when she hit the floor. Pointed her fingers straight at the poor bed, murdered the eye! You didn’t tell me she was a mean witch, Boss.”

  “She isn’t mean, Topaz. What are you doing in adult form? You were supposed to grow gradually. You must have frightened her to death.”

  “Well, Prince, it’s like this…er…I got hungry. She made me go hunt for food.” Topaz flicked his curious greenish-gold gaze over the female feline Talon had brought with him. His whiskers twitched as he stared at the Persian kitty half his size. “Oh good, you brought fresh pussy.”

  Talon frowned. “Celine is Mother’s Futhar.”

  “Ah.” Topaz snickered. “Royal pussy. Even b
etter.”

  He admired Celine’s long, white fur, her sleek, slender body. His mouth watered at the sight of her exotic turquoise eyes. Yum.

  He dropped his gaze to the diamond choker sparkling around her throat, and then back up to dwell on the dainty, pink satin bows beside each ear. “Hubba, hubba,” he purred, and slinked his long body toward the pretty feline.

  Man, would he like a piece of that. Rrrr. Rrrr.

  Celine blinked her lovely eyes and backed up a step. “Stay away from me, you filthy Alley Cat!” she screeched.

  “Alley Cat?” Topaz snorted. “I’m a tomcat, Toots. A big tom, with a great big…well never mind, you’ll find out soon enough, cupcake.” His voice dropped to a low, rumbling purr as he edged closer to the pretty Persian. “We were made for each other, beautiful.”

  Celine arched her back. High. All four of her legs stiffened, claws extended, and sank into the carpet. Fur rose straight up, and she hissed, baring her sharp, little teeth at him.

  Admiration filled the big tom’s hot gaze. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a higher arch in a feline’s spine. She wanted him all right. The babe was hot. “Oh, baby. Come to Papa.” He slinked closer, sniffing the air, absorbing her rich scent. “Ah, my lee-tle spice of delight. My lee-tle love kee-ten. You smell like jas-meen and opium. Come with me to the Kasbah, and we will make the sweet-est of love. Mmmm.”

  He figured he’d impress her with his phony foreign accent. All the females loved it when he purred French love words in their ears. How could she resist his charm? Oh, yeah, the babe was his. He loved her scent. It was warm and inviting. Intoxicating. Futhar female felines came into heat at Beltane same as the witches. That made her ripe for mating.