The Keepers: Christmas in Salem: Do You Fear What I Fear?The Fright Before ChristmasUnholy NightStalking in a Winter Wonderland (Harlequin Nocturne)

by Heather Graham

  The heat in his gaze seared her senses. “You’ll hate me after. You’ll hate yourself.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Good enough.”

  He claimed her mouth, and she swore the earth moved and angels sang. His kiss was everything she remembered and more. Her brain grew fuzzy, as if drugged by his lips, his tongue. His hands moved over her, awakening every molecule in her exhausted body. Charged with lust, she tugged up his shirt, her palms smoothing over his ripped abs and strong back.

  Their kiss became frenzied, and before she knew it he had swooped her into his arms. “No magic,” she whispered as he carried her up the stairs to her apartment.

  “Not of the witch kind,” he said as he laid her on the king-size bed. “Can’t promise otherwise, Bug.”

  Chapter 7

  Making love to June in the midst of a crisis was reckless and harked back to Baz’s old ways. A selfish choice, yet he couldn’t resist her. Them. He’d poured his heart and soul into making her feel alive. Making her feel him and his love. Incredible, but his feelings had never died. He’d simply pounded them into dormancy, but now her kiss—that one kiss—had reawakened his love with a vengeance.

  Stripping her naked had peeled away the years, and the raw passion that had once burned between them burned again. He’d relished the feel of her bare skin, her taste, her scent. Her incredible flexibility. The way she’d mewed when he coaxed her higher and higher, savoring, pleasuring. They’d peaked together, and he swore stars exploded in his mind’s eye.

  Now she slept in his arms. She felt good and right curled up against him, even though so much was wrong between them.

  It still rankled that she’d had so little faith in him all those years ago. Yes, he’d screwed up. But he’d explained. He’d apologized.

  And she’d walked away.

  He’d despised her for that. But he’d also looked inward. At who he was and who he wanted to be. He didn’t want to run like June. He didn’t want to forsake his heritage. He wanted to thrive in Salem and among all witches, Wiccan and magical. He wanted to follow in Esmeralda’s footsteps. Regardless of June’s opinion, his grandmother was a good and strong leader. She’d only ever had the coven’s best interest at heart—and that included Baz and June.

  Baz glanced at the illuminated digital clock on Artemis’s, no, June’s nightstand.

  Seven in the morning. Official time for a normal winter sunrise. He looked to the window, anticipating dawn simply from force of habit, but all he saw was black. Stark darkness. Not even a twinkling of stars.

  That didn’t mean he’d lost hope. But he worried that his faith and optimism wouldn’t prove strong enough to save the day, his fellow witches and Salem. The greatest power for change resided in the skeptics. That much he knew. The Scrooges. The people who’d lost all faith.

  Like June.

  If only she believed...

  She stirred in his arms, and he cursed the ache in his chest. He didn’t want to love Juniper Twist. He was the next high priest of the local magical coven. She was already that coven’s Keeper. Her inability to trust witches, to trust him, was a thorn in his side and a kink in the natural way of things.

  “You’re staring at me.’’

  His lip twitched. “How can you tell? Your eyes are closed.”

  “I sense you.” She looked up at him then, her gaze still sweetly dazed. “Yup. Staring.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “You say that to all the girls.”

  “Wrong. And you’re not just any girl, Bug. You never were.”

  She tensed. “Then why did you kiss Lolita?”

  There it was. The bonehead block between them. He’d explained before, but by damn, he would explain again. Only this time he wouldn’t give up until he made June understand. He’d been too emotional the first time around. Now he was calm. Rational.

  “It would be nice,” he said, clinging to patience, “if we cleared the air once and for all.”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “My story hasn’t changed.”

  “Great.”

  “But I have.”

  That caught her attention. Sheet clutched to her beautiful breasts, she shimmied back and nodded. “I’m listening.”

  “Are you?”

  “As it happens, I’m questioning everything tonight. Today.” She glanced at the clock, then out the window, sighing at the unnatural darkness. “Even my judgment. Talk to me, Baz.”

  Remembering how this conversation had gone in the past, he braced for disappointment. If she still thought the worst of him, so be it. This time he wouldn’t take her lack of faith to heart. He wouldn’t let it affect his self-esteem.

  “I was as surprised as you to learn that my grandmother had invoked my soul mate. And just as angry.” As if any man would want his grandmother meddling in his love life. “But what bothered me most was your assumption that nothing of what we’d felt for each other was real. Let me finish,” he said when she started to speak. “Even after Esmeralda admitted her deed, my feelings for you remained the same. But your insistence that I was somehow defending her, that I was clinging to the idea of our supposed true love out of pride... Your skepticism wore at my confidence. You made me doubt myself. Us. Lolita had been coming on to me for weeks. I admit I found her physically attractive. As crazy as it sounds, I thought if I kissed her, I’d know if what I felt for you was real or imagined. If I wasn’t in love with you, I’d be turned on enough to want more than a kiss. As it happened, the kiss fell flat and all I felt was remorse.”

  “That’s not what I sensed when I walked in on you two.”

  “Are you sure you were tuned in to me?” he asked. “Lolita’s a witch, too. Isn’t it possible that you keyed in on her more fervent energy?”

  June blinked up at him, and he sensed something he’d never sensed before on this subject. Doubt. Confusion. A window of opportunity.

  He stroked her hair off her sweet face, fearing her, wanting her. “Kissing Lolita was rash and reckless. Definitely insensitive. I apologize for that. To be honest, I think part of me was lashing out at you for bailing on us so easily. You wouldn’t even consider the possibility that what burned between us was genuine and not caused by that incantation. How could you have so little faith?”

  She licked her lips, swallowed hard. “I just...I guess I never understood what you saw in me. I was geeky. You were cool. I was plain. You were...” Her appreciative gaze flicked over his face, his body. “Well, you. You could have had any girl in town—human or Other. Actually, you did have a lot of girls.”

  “Not while I was with you.”

  “I know. Still... When I learned about the spell, I felt deceived. Foolish. Then when I saw you kissing Lolita I felt betrayed and even more foolish. I didn’t want to deal, didn’t know how to deal.”

  “So you ran away.”

  She met his eyes. “You could have come after me.”

  “I should have come after you. But I was hurt and young and ruled by pride.”

  “We were both young.”

  A clean slate was all he asked. “Are we good here, Juniper?”

  Her luscious mouth quirked. “You called me by my given name. I guess you mean business.”

  “I mean to put the past to rest.”

  She stared up at him for a long moment. “Done.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Just like that?”

  “It’s been eight years. Not exactly just like that.” She smiled a little, placed her palm to his chest. “I’m good with you, Baz. Honest. But I’m still miffed about that spell. I can’t help it. It tainted everything.”

  “What if it only pushed us together sooner than the natural march of time? What if we were meant to be together regardless? It was intended to find my soul mate, not create her out of nowhere.”

  “Soul mates?” She wrinkled her nose. “You really believe there’s such a thing?”

  “I believe in a lot of things.”

  She rolled o
nto her back, stared up at the ceiling.

  He could see her brain churning, although he didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  “Do you believe in Santa Claus?” she asked.

  “I believe in the idea of St. Nick. I believe in the magic of Christmas.”

  “Why?”

  He searched his soul and answered honestly, “Just because.”

  “Blind faith.”

  “I suppose.” He rolled onto his side, pushed himself up on one elbow and studied one of the most cynical women he knew. “What are you getting at?”

  “That’s powerful stuff, faith. Belief. Hope. This darkness has been eating away at those elements, snuffing out the magic of the winter solstice, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and Christmas. And now, because of that fire and Gantry’s evil insinuation, people will gossip and maybe even plot against Wiccans and magicals. They should be celebrating the spirit of giving, peace on earth, goodwill toward men.” Her gaze flicked to his. “You own a construction business, right?”

  “We specialize in renovations.” He wondered at her train of thought. WizBang Renovations transformed houses and businesses and, for a price, Baz would charm a room. Locals of a certain mind-set appreciated metaphysical boons. Hence his company’s motto: We work magic.

  June shot out of bed—naked and beautiful and suddenly jazzed. “Get up. Get dressed. Hurry!”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To inspire goodwill.”

  Chapter 8

  June rattled off her plan as she and Baz dressed. She felt a little guilty stealing peeks as he pulled on his clothes. Deriving so much pleasure from ogling the man’s hunky body was pretty shallow considering the crisis, but, holy smokes, he was even more ripped than the last time they’d been together. Probably had to do with all the physical labor connected with WizBang Renovations. The thought of him hauling lumber and swinging a hammer was pretty darn sexy.

  Don’t think about the sex.

  But even as he pointed out the many holes in her idea, her mind drifted to the way he’d made her body sing. He had always been a masterful lover, but over the years he’d honed his skills even more. She didn’t want to think about how or with whom. Of course, he hadn’t been celibate for eight years. Neither had she. Yet somehow, at this moment, none of that mattered. Maybe it had to do with the intensity of his focus. Baz made her feel as though she were the center of his universe.

  Although she wouldn’t feel full closure until she’d spoken with Esmeralda. And then...

  Then she had no clue where things would go with Baz. If anywhere.

  “You’re zoning out on me, June Bug.”

  “What?” She stumbled on the steps as they made their way down to the bookshop.

  He caught her arm, steadying her, although his touch unbalanced her in other ways.

  Don’t think about the sex.

  “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

  “What’s the last thing you heard?”

  “Something about insurance and building permits, and how it’s Christmas Day and the city and county offices are closed.”

  “Aside from legalities and safety issues, you’re asking me to call in my men and ask them to work—on Christmas. Wiccans and magicals may not celebrate the religious aspect of the holiday—”

  “—but we do spend the day indulging in festive traditions with friends and family. Preaching to the choir, Baz.” She hurried to the coat tree and nabbed her velvet coat. “The point is, this is unlike any Christmas we’ve ever seen. There’s nothing normal about the darkness or the rising hostility. We need to obliterate the negativity and sense of doom inspired by Marin’s curse. We’re going to make it through this day, sun or no sun, without attacking one another. We’re going to inspire goodwill and the spirit of giving by rebuilding St. Peter’s!”

  “I admire your conviction and goal,” Baz said while helping her into her coat, “but trust me when I say what you’re suggesting is impossible to achieve in a month, let alone a day. St. Peter’s was badly damaged. The building needs to be inspected by a structural engineer. Chances are he’ll advise tearing it down to the foundation. There are cleanup issues. Safety issues. Codes to be met. Insurance claims to be made.”

  It wasn’t what June wanted to hear, but she trusted in Baz’s expertise. “What about a temporary structure? An immediate place on grounds where the congregation can meet. Did you hear that newscaster say there was supposed to be a Christmas Day service this afternoon? If we could provide them with a place to worship tonight and until the church is rebuilt...”

  “Build a temporary church.” He raised a skeptical brow while shrugging into his bomber jacket. “In one day.”

  “Think of it like an old-fashioned barn raising. The whole community joined in and by the end of the day—” she spread her hands wide “—ta-da!”

  “A whole community as opposed to one construction crew.”

  “Don’t worry. You get your people and square the permit thing somehow with whomever, and I’ll get the community. Specifically the witch community. That’s the beauty of my plan,” she said while whisking out the door. “Even though we’re the ones Gantry set up for persecution, we’ll be the ones to inspire goodwill.”

  “We set the example and humans will join in?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Except they won’t know they’re following the lead of the persecuted. Most witches live in anonymity.”

  “That’s not the point. Marin will know. He’ll see we’re not lashing out or running away. We’re initiating good. The point is to make the gesture. A gesture of peace and goodwill toward men—no matter their faith—supporting, celebrating and saving the true spirit of Christmas, yes?”

  He smiled at that, driving away the chill settling in June’s bones as they walked to their cars.

  “No offense,” he said, “but as Esmeralda’s grandson and the future high priest, it would go faster if I reached out to our coven.”

  “Except it needs to be me.” Reaching out, connecting as their Keeper. It was something she should have done the minute she got back to town. She thumbed her key fob, unlocking the doors to the SUV left to her by her uncle. Pulse racing in anticipation of this challenge, she spun around and knocked into Baz. “Sorry. I almost forgot. I could really use a few baskets filled with oranges, wassail and candles. Would you mind conjuring something up for me? I wouldn’t ask, but I shouldn’t visit empty-handed on the holiday, and like you said, everything will be closed.”

  Baz grunted but stepped back and focused, stocking her backseat with baskets full of cheer. “I hope you don’t expect me or any of the other witches working on this temporary church to invoke magic in order to get the job done by midnight.”

  She gave a sheepish shrug. “Nothing obvious anyway.”

  “Building a safe and viable place of worship in one day—especially on Christmas—is already going to attract a lot of attention, Bug.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  “Humans will be present. It’s against the rules to practice obvious magic in front of them. You know that.”

  “You don’t play by the rules. Remember?”

  Baz nabbed her by her scarf and reeled her in against him. “Never realized there was a bad girl lurking inside the good girl.”

  Her heart thudded as he dropped his forehead to hers. “Not a bad girl,” she said. “A Keeper.”

  “Your father and Artemis would be proud.”

  A wave of emotion washed through her. More likely they would be worried. What if she hesitated or panicked? What if she failed? What if the humans rooted out and turned against the witches in spite of her plan? What if Christmas was forever tainted? What if they still couldn’t find a way to defeat the darkness and the sun never returned?

  “Sometimes you think too much.” Baz brushed a kiss over her mouth, then conjured a sprig from the air and pinned it to her lapel.

  “Mistletoe?” She raised a brow. “You’re inviting anyone I greet to kiss me?”


  “I’m not that giving,” he said. “Think on your studies. The Druids.”

  Her mind riffled through years of collected information. “The Druid priests distributed sprigs of mistletoe as a form of protection from thunder and lightning and other forms of evil.” She glanced at the sprig on her lapel. “Nice thought, Baz, but they traditionally hung the mistletoe over doorways.”

  “Putting a spin on tradition.” Baz indicated the burn mark on her coat. “Marin already struck you once.”

  “I was caught off guard. I know his scent now. His aura and vibrations.” She fingered the small talisman of protection. Her heart swelled as she looked up at the man she was falling in love with all over again. Standing on her tiptoes, she gave him a tender kiss before parting ways. “Don’t worry about me, Baz.”

  “Too late, Bug.”

  Chapter 9

  By the time June reached Esmeralda Collins’s house, her stomach was a knotted mess. Only a few hours into Christmas Day and the paranoia had already commenced. Driving through town, she had noted random altercations and acts of desperation, a noticeable increase from the day before. Pedestrians having words. Drivers exhibiting road rage. To her surprise several shops had opened for business. Some advertising talismans to “ward off the Devil’s magic.” Some hawking “solar simulators” to create artificial sunlight. To her shock and dismay, she’d even spied a few people picketing Salem’s most popular attractions and protesting the local witch element—past and present. She’d anticipated intolerance to flare, but seeing it in action sickened her to the core.

  And this was only the beginning.

  Unless she was able to accomplish the seemingly impossible and turn the tables on Marin.

  She turned off the engine, dropped her forehead to the steering wheel and took a calming breath.

  Before she could reach out to her charges and then beyond to the Wiccan community, June needed to make amends with the high priestess of the magicals, Baz’s grandmother, Esmeralda Collins. The woman she’d cursed to the moon and back for making her believe in a false love. She’d also accused Esmeralda of having political motives for promoting a union between a Collins and a Twist. Flashing back on her emotional outburst, June cringed. She might have been a tad overdramatic. She definitely hadn’t allowed Esmeralda to get a word in edgewise.