by Michele Hauf
“You haven’t known him that long.”
“I’ve known him forever,” Eryss said with a wondrous certainty. She turned the car to drive around the block and away from the man, who raced after them. “He doesn’t want to hurt me. I know that, too.”
“That’s all well and fine, but if your theory on love breaking the curse were true then he’d stop right now. So he must not love you.”
And that was the clincher.
Of course, Dane hadn’t fallen in love with her. His life had been crazy freaky wild since arriving in town a little more than a week ago. He’d stated very clearly he had a life in California, and much as he cared about her, he couldn’t see continuing a relationship between them long distance.
Yet she could entirely get behind uprooting her own life and moving to live near him. Because that’s what she needed to do. To give her roots new life in new soil. Her soul craved this love. It demanded she fight for it now.
Mireio turned around on the seat and looked out the back window. “He’s fast!”
“It’s the dagger. I’m going left.” That would take her toward the freeway. She could lose him there. But she didn’t want to lose him. It took all her strength to switch on the turn signal and curve onto the freeway.
“He’s stopped,” Mireio reported. “I love that you found your soul mate, Eryss.” She turned around and slid down in the seat, then clasped Eryss’s hand. “And I know what that means. It is phenomenal. Meant to be. Not to be ignored.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
“I do. But why did you have to pick the one guy on this earth who wants you dead? And why does he want you dead?”
“I killed his father.” Eryss navigated toward a turnoff from the freeway. She didn’t need to get away from Dane anymore, so after taking the exit, she turned toward a coffee shop.
“You did? When?”
Eryss loved that she could make such a confession to her friends and their replies were never laced with disbelief, just curiosity.
“In the thirteenth century. Apparently Dane’s father was a witch. So was Dane! That’s how the curse started, over his father’s dead body. There’s dark magic involved.”
“Hmm, then dark magic should get you out of this.”
“Maybe. But neither of us practices dark.” She parked before the coffee shop and turned off the ignition. Both women remained in the car. “Dane came to town because he thought the dagger could tell him something about his father—from this lifetime—whom he never knew. But it’s weird that, instead, he learned about his original father.”
“It was meant to be.”
“I feel bad about the man’s death in the thirteenth century, but I know I did it to save Dane.”
“And he couldn’t see beyond that betrayal.”
“Exactly. He reacted, as would anyone when they’d just witnessed someone stab their father. Oh! How could I have been so irrational? I would never murder someone. Why didn’t I try to talk to Dane—Ivor—about it?”
“Sweetie, you are not the same person now as you were then.”
“Right! I wasn’t even a witch then. Dane was the witch! How weird is that?”
“But your souls have always been the same. And your soul has grown and learned things. Times were also very different then than they are now. Trust me on that one.”
“If that’s so, even if I could find a dark witch to help me, there’s no way I would use dark magic to stop this. It doesn’t feel right with my soul.”
Mireio sighed. “Then you’re going to have to somehow make the guy love you. And good luck with that when he’s doing the enchanted white-eyes thing.” She shuddered. “That creeps me out more than staring down a sword. Seriously.”
“I’m going to call him.” Eryss tugged out her cell phone.
“I’ll run in and grab us some chai and give you some privacy.”
As Mireio strolled toward the coffee shop, Eryss spread her white light over her and cloaked her location with a simple spell that would jam the GPS on her phone. Then she dialed Dane.
He answered immediately. “I’m so sorry, Eryss! I tried not to touch it, but my muscles moved of their own volition. And everyone was standing around. This is a disaster. I need to do spin on this.”
“Dane, chill. Mireio and I performed a spell. Everyone who walked away will never remember what they saw. Trust me.”
“Really? Thank you.”
“As for coming after me with the dagger...again...”
“I can never apologize enough.”
“No need. I understand. If I could have removed the dagger from your proximity I would have, but I can’t touch the thing, and our Light magic doesn’t work against it. We need a third party.”
“The disenchanter,” Dane said. “He’s arriving this evening. He works with the Agency. Since we can’t destroy the dagger, we can at least take away its power.”
“Where is it right now?”
“With me. I’m back at the hotel. I was able to let it go. And I checked the mirror. No white eyes. It just feels so right in my grip, it’s hard to explain.”
“It’s the enchantment.”
“I’m sure it is. Where are you? No—don’t tell me. Don’t return to the brewery today, please. I feel as if I’ll know and go looking for you. And don’t go home.”
She had nowhere else to go but home, but she wouldn’t tell him that.
“Dane, are you going to be okay?”
His sigh said so much. Eryss felt her heart shiver in response. She wanted to pull him close, hold him and kiss his eyelids and tell him that she loved him. And to know that he returned that love.
“Doesn’t matter if I’m okay. It’s you I’m worried about, Eryss.”
“We both need to be okay. But I’m not okay if you’re not. That’s just the way it is. Like it or not—I love you.”
Had she heard him sniff at a tear?
“I love you,” she repeated. “This lifetime. The you you are right now. The scientist who loves to surf and protect paranormals from mortal naivety. And while I know I’ve loved you in the past, I think it’s different every time. Because we are different people every time. And yet we’ve been very much the same through the ages. We find one another. And sometimes even love one another.”
“I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Eryss. And I’ll come and tell you that and kiss you and make love to you the moment the disenchanter has worked on the dagger. I promise you that. I’ll give you a call soon.”
“Goodbye.” It was difficult to hang up because she hadn’t heard what she’d wanted to hear.
That he loved her, too.
Chapter 27
After lighting a beeswax candle on the kitchen table, Eryss blew gently over the flame and whispered, “To love.” The flame snapped back at her, and she flinched away from it.
She wasn’t going to take that as a portent. She was too tired. And it had been a trying day. Would she and Dane ever be able to face one another without the threat of death?
“The disenchanter is on his way,” she reminded herself. “Hopefully he makes it here before my birthday.” Which was...she checked the LED clock on the stove. “Four hours from now. I need a bath.”
And with a yawn, she aimed for the stairs. Her cell phone rang as she took the bottom step. It was Valor. “Hey.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am. What’s up?”
“Where’s the witch hunter?”
She wished her friends would not call the man she loved a witch hunter, but Eryss knew an argument wasn’t going to change the truth. “He’s at the hotel.”
“With the dagger?”
“Yes.”
“Good. The disenchanter is here.”
“Oh, excellent. Will you drive him over to the hotel? I was just going to hop into a nice hot bath. Long day.”
“Not a problem. We’ll go straight there. You get some rest. I’ll give you a call as soon as the dagger is taken care of.”
“Thanks, Valor.”
Setting the phone on the bathroom vanity, Eryss stripped her clothes off and tossed them in the hamper. The water always took a while to warm up on cold winter nights, so she let it run over the rose quartz crystals she’d placed in the tub, while she combed her hair and patted some cleansing oil on her face in preparation to wash it away.
She tapped her fingers against her chin, eyeing her reflection and feeling as though she’d forgotten about something. But with a yawn, she stepped into the tub and groaned with pleasure as the hot water surrounded her.
Downstairs in the kitchen, the candle flame flickered and a tuft of ash broke away and landed in the chenille threads of Eryss’s scarf. The ember took to amber light, and a flame burst into life.
* * *
The disenchanter was probably eighteen years old if he was a day, Valor decided as he followed her down the hotel hallway toward the room number Eryss had given her. He reminded her of a lanky, LARPing game freak. And he still hadn’t grown into his long arms and legs.
He’d identified himself as the guy who was going to save the day when he’d walked into the brewery asking after Dane Winthur.
Kids.
“This one.” Valor stopped before the door and knocked. “Dane?” She eyed the disenchanter’s thin summery jacket. “You from California, too?”
“Arizona. I expect to get paid double for coming to this frigid town.”
“Do they do that? Pay you double for suffering a few degrees’ drop in temperature?”
“A few degrees?” He shivered and then pressed an ear to the door to listen. “I don’t think anyone is in there.”
“He’s gotta be. The dagger has gone missing from the Saint-Pierres’—oh shit!”
Valor stepped back in preparation to kick the door, but the disenchanter stood before it like an idiot.
“Move!” she commanded, and he jumped to the side. Valor charged the door, and one well-placed kick beside the key card pad shook the door lock loose. They wandered inside. There was a half-packed suitcase on the bed, but no Dane.
And worse yet...no dagger.
Valor tugged out her cell phone to call Eryss, but it rang through to voice mail. “She’s still in the tub. We’ve got to go to her. Come on!”
* * *
Dane gave the plastic lighter a few flicks as he navigated the darkness toward Eryss’s house. All his life, he’d carried a lighter on him. Or rather, he had started doing it as an eight-year-old. To be cool.
Or because he’d been compelled by a wicked enchantment that had brewed within him for decades. Fire.
Now he understood.
Dane pulled up before the house, and saw smoke siphoning from the kitchen window. Had someone beat him to the fire?
Dagger in hand, he stepped outside and stood looking over the Victorian structure, feeling no need to rush forward. Flames licked through two broken kitchen windows. And the roof at the front corner above the kitchen had begun to burn with wicked gold flames.
Clenching the dagger tightly, he nodded. “The witch is burning.”
A sense of finally finishing a long-tormenting task filled his chest. And he studied the dagger now in the darkness as the flames brightened his peripheral view. The designs on the blade began to disappear, and soon the cold iron was smooth. And the bone hilt cracked, as if with age, within his grasp. And he felt something crack within him. So sharply that he slapped a palm over his chest.
Something exited his heart and chest, as if a blade were being pulled free from the muscle and skin. He groaned and winced and his knees buckled, but he did not collapse.
Shouting to the heavens, he spread his arms wide and cried in victory and anger, and from the betrayal that had been visited upon him by his first father.
And the pain receded and he was able to stand firmly. Why was he holding this weapon?
Stabbing the blade into the nearby snowbank that edged the witch’s driveway, the witch hunter released the most powerful influence that had haunted him through the ages.
And in doing so, the wicked enchantment that had curled about his heart...let go.
* * *
Dane sucked in the cold air. What was going on? Where was—he stood before Eryss’s house. And it was burning! What in hell?
“Eryss? No!”
He raced for the side door and gripped the metal knob. He wasn’t wearing gloves, and his skin burned from the contact. He swore and released it. He had to get inside. She could be in there, hurt or passed out from smoke inhalation.
Had he actually just stood here and felt a cruel tendril of satisfaction at seeing her house in flames? It had been that damned dagger.
But now—now he was no longer under its spell. He’d pronounced the witch dead and the baselard had listened, releasing the enchantment that had haunted him throughout the centuries.
“She can’t be dead. Please!”
He turned and eyed the garage. There must be something in there he could use to knock down the door. Then he grasped a moment of rational thought, tugged out his cell phone and called 911. He reported the fire even as he stomped through the snow around the side of the house to the glass-walled conservatory. The dispatcher reported they would have a team on site within six minutes.
Dane shoved the phone in his pocket. “Six minutes is too long. Where are you, Eryss?”
He tripped over the end of the big branch that had fallen days earlier and cracked the glass ceiling. Tumbling forward, he landed in the snow, then scrambled around to grip the thickest end of the branch. It was about eight feet long, so he stood, pressed his foot to the center and broke off a good length of it. Using it as a battering ram, he smashed one of the conservatory windows, turning his head away to avoid the flying glass. Gray smoke billowed forth. He smashed again and again until two panes had been taken out. Tossing the branch aside, he then entered Eryss’s summer sanctuary.
Pulling up the winter scarf from his neck to cover his nose and mouth, Dane blinked at the heavy smoke. If it was thick out here in the conservatory, it must be impassable in the rooms beyond. He spied the open door to the main house and dashed for it. When his foot nudged something on the grass, he dropped down and felt the prone body lying half inside.
His fingers slipped into Eryss’s hair. She wasn’t moving, and when he shook her she did not respond. He lifted her and carried her limp body, clad in a thin silky nightgown, out through the broken window. Then he trudged through the yard until the thick snow hampered his footsteps and he could no longer carry her due to coughing.
He fell to his knees, gently setting Eryss on the snow. Moonlight allowed him to see that her hair was wet. He shook her shoulders and head, trying to rouse her. Was mouth-to-mouth appropriate for smoke inhalation? Had she merely passed out?
He bent and pressed an ear to her chest, gasping with hope when he heard the thump of her beating heart.
“Come on, Eryss, not like this. I won’t let the flames harm this witch. No!” He clasped her shoulders and hugged her up against his chest, bowing his head against hers. “Please, not like this. We are supposed to go together or not at all. That’s the deal.”
A deal he’d just concocted, but damn—where was the emergency team?
He set her back down gently and, pinching her nose, tilted back her head and breathed into her mouth. Once, twice.
“Eryss, please don’t leave me. I’ll stay here in Minnesota if you want me to. I’d do anything for you. We’ve got to do it right this time. Please?”
He bowed his head to her forehead, slipping his hand along her cheek to her cool lips. Pressing a kiss there, he lingered over her mouth and whispered, “I love you.”
And he meant it. It had been spoken without thought, undeterred by scientific rationale. It had come from his heart.
And as if words had magic, Eryss suddenly sucked in a breath. “Dane?”
“Oh, my love, you’re alive.” He kissed her nose. “Thank God.”
“I...the candle. It was my f
ault.”
“It’s okay, lover. I’m here. And I love you.”
The fire truck’s siren sounded not far off. The headlights from a vehicle illuminated the driveway, and someone got out and ran toward them. “Eryss!”
“Valor, she’s alive,” Dane called. He pulled Eryss gently onto his lap and shrugged off his coat to pull it over her shivering form. “She’s alive.” He beamed up at the other witch, who stopped before them.
“Did you set her house on fire?” Valor asked.
“It was ablaze when I arrived. She said something about a candle. I got her out.”
Valor eyed him suspiciously for three very long seconds, then nodded and pressed her hands together in a namaste bow. “Bless the goddess.”
“I found the dagger in a snowbank,” said some teenager from behind her.
“The disenchanter,” Valor said dismissively. “Keep that thing away from the witch hunter, will you?”
“Oh. Right. I’ll take it out onto the street. And I’ll back the car out. The fire truck will want to get up close. You Winthur?”
Dane nodded.
“Everything okay?” the disenchanter asked.
“It is now.” Dane pulled Eryss in closer, and she nuzzled her head against his neck. Her cool fingers slipped inside his shirt, and he pressed a hand over them to warm her up.
Someone from the fire rescue crew called out, and Valor turned to go meet them.
“You said you loved me,” Eryss said. Her eyes beamed up at him. “Did you mean that?”
“Without question.”
“Love has saved us,” she said, and dropped her head onto his shoulder.
“That it has.” He kissed the crown of her head. “Happy birthday, lover.”
Later that night...
The Decadent Dames brewery resounded with the acoustic rhythms of a local alternative band that always brought in a crowd. Glasses clanked and chatter filled the festive air as the band suddenly segued into a rousing version of “Happy Birthday.”
Mireio and Valor carried the sheet cake decorated with pink roses and violet forget-me-nots to the main room, where Eryss sat on Dane’s lap in one of the easy chairs backed with a skull motif.
