Enchantress' Secret (Hemstreet Witches Book 1)

by Rain Trueax

  “I like being with you.”

  “Can I watch you paint? Or don’t you like anyone to watch what you do?”

  “I don’t mind… You said you paint.”

  “Dabble more accurately,” she said. “I like to paint though, just wish I was better at it.”

  “I’d like to see your work.”

  “When I say it’s not much, I am not exaggerating. It’s stiff, doesn’t have the life yours does.” She smiled apologetically.

  “Maybe you haven’t found your subject.”

  “Maybe.” She doubted it.

  “Well, come on back to the studio. I’ll show you the one I was hiding.” It was his turn to smile apologetically. She followed him back. When he turned the third easel, she saw herself on Maret.

  Her mouth dropped open. “You did that from memory. It’s magnificent. You even have the desert right with the mountain behind. And you say it’s roughed in?”

  “I began on it last night, worked on it most of the night. I wasn’t sure I wanted you to see it.”

  “Why not? It’s really wonderful… even if it is me. I haven’t had anyone paint me.”

  “You should be painted nude, and I’d like to be the one who does it.”

  “I…” She didn’t know what to say. It turned out she didn’t need words as he pulled her into his arms. “I want to make love to you, Denali. Did you read my mind and know that?”

  She put her arms around him. “I didn’t need to. Can you read my mind?”

  “No, but I feel your body. Let me teach you all the ways it can glow.”

  Her breath came more quickly. “How about you?” she asked knowing her tone had grown softer, more seductive. “Will you let me play with your body too?”

  “Oh honey, all the ways you want.” He bent and lifted her into his arms, carrying her down the hall and kicking open a door. “I even changed the sheets this morning,” he said with a smile as he lowered her to the bed.

  “Pretty confident.”

  “Hopeful.” Before he could kiss her, there was a knock at the door.

  “Damn.” She saw him debate getting it, but the knock was more insistent. She followed him out and sat on the patio, hoping whoever was there would not notice her flush-- or better yet, would not even enter the house. Moments later, Nick came back with Detective Whorley, who didn’t look pleased to see Denali.

  “Sorry to interrupt your afternoon,” Whorley said, not sounding a bit sorry. She hoped the fact he’d once had hopes with her would not color his questioning of Nick.

  “You said you had some questions,” Nick said. “I assume regarding Jane Elm’s murder.”

  Ward sat across from Denali while Nick leaned against the wall, his ankles crossed in front of him, his nervous energy palpable.

  “This is about something else. Did you know Cynthia Barnes?”

  “Not by name.”

  “She was murdered either Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning.”

  “So sorry for her and her family. What does it have to do with me?”

  “There is a similarity between her murder and that of Jane Elm’s.”

  “She a friend of Jane’s?”

  “No connection so far, except her body was found in the same way.”

  “And that connects to me how? Was the other woman an artist at the gallery?”

  “We should be able to find that when we talk to Ms. Elm’s assistant. We have yet to gain access to her computer, it was protected, but we have someone working on that.”

  “Look, we are going in circles. I don’t know what you hope to hear. I understand your desire to catch a murderer, but you are wasting your time here.”

  Denali was glad Nick had not revealed what she had told him. This was all getting extremely complicated. With no clear motive for anyone to kill Jane Elm, the same was possibly true of Cynthia Barnes. The only connection of the two was one the police likely didn’t know yet if they ever would-- a black magic practitioner possibly being powered by Ornis or maybe even Azaziel himself. She wished she could talk about it to Nick, but how could she when he was so unwilling to believe in the ‘other’ side.

  “Do you have an alibi for Tuesday night?”

  “I do not sleep with anyone, detective.”

  Whorley shrugged and rose. “I didn’t have to come here to tell you this.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Those less friendly to you may be next. Even though we have nothing to tie you to either murder, the similarity of the murders makes it look as if it’s the same person. That means, you might be a factor in both.”

  “And I tell you I am not.”

  “All right… for now. You know we will find out if you did have something to do with it.”

  “I am not worried.” Whorley shrugged and left. Nick followed him out and came back to where Denali was now petting Harvey.

  “If someone is trying to set you up,” Denali said as he poured them each a glass of wine, “a connection might be manufactured.”

  “I don’t see how. The description you gave of her doesn’t fit anyone I know or have met. Search my memory if you want. You won’t find her.”

  “You have a very strong block on your mind.”

  “Your point being?”

  “What if we go at this the other way-- what if I try to give you a memory?”

  “You can do that?” She saw by his expression that he wasn’t sure he wanted to give her the option if it was possible.

  “I haven’t but if it goes one way, for someone like you with a great deal of mind control, it might work if you are open to seeing a dream. I was thinking of showing you what happened when she came into the boutique. She might have looked differently when not possessed.”

  He considered it. Basically, he would have to trust her to let her have access. Finally, he nodded. “All right. If I knew her, I guess better I find out before the police. How would we try this?”

  “Relax, let your mind go blank.”

  He closed his eyes, but his smile was tight. “And what else will you do while in there?”

  “Nothing. Girl Scout’s honor.”

  “You were a scout?”

  “No, but I heard it somewhere.” She moved to sit on his lap so she could stroke his forehead to help him relax.

  “That’s not going to help,” he said with a wry twist to his expressive mouth. “It just makes me think about what we missed by having him show up.”

  “We haven’t missed it yet. Now concentrate on letting go, thinking nothing, just a mist and through it will come what I saw that day.”

  Breathing deeply, Denali pulled up the memories, brought them into her immediacy, and saw it all again as the girl approached and then the attack. She had no way of knowing if she was projecting them to Nick. She hoped he’d see it like a movie without the emotional experiences of the actual event. Given he’d known combat, she was unsure what they would do to him. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

  She felt his body stiffen, saw his hands form into a fist as she got to where they had forced the girl’s hands behind her body and cuffed them together. He sucked in a breath and let out a groan. She reached where they called the police and stopped her images but continued to stroke his forehead. “Are you all right?” she whispered, unsure where he had gone.

  “I am not sure, but I saw her enter, you go for her, and then subdue her.” His voice was husky as she saw him work to get control, to let go of what held him tensed and strained against the chair.

  “Did you know her?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Not by name though. She used to come into el Minuto and… Do you mind if I smoke?”

  “It’s your death.” She got off his lap.

  “It might be, but other things have first call.” He lit a cigarette. “I never saw the tattoos you described, but she was around and trying to… hit on me, I guess. She asked me to teach her how to paint. I told her I didn’t take students. She even came to my door once. When I saw who it
was, I told her I was busy and didn’t let her in. It was at least six months ago, maybe more. She stopped coming after that, and I forgot about it. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. Most get the message and quit. I figured she had.”

  “She had found out where you live though?”

  “Not hard to do. It’s not like a secret here in the Barrio. I don’t hide.”

  “Did she follow you?”

  “Not that I know of, but I wasn’t looking for it.”

  Denali was beginning to get a nauseating feeling about what Cynthia might’ve gone to a sorcerer to acquired. Might she have been obsessed with a man who had no feelings for her? Some would have promised they could take care of that problem by enchanting him.

  “All right… The police will find out about it. A woman obsessed with you could be considered a motive.”

  “Not on my end. Besides, it was months ago and never developed into anything beyond her few suggestive comments.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that. “My sisters will find out whether she really let it go.”

  “Your sisters?”

  “Elke and Torre were told to look into Cynthia’s life, her work, friends.” She thought about telling him the spirit level would be probed too, but would he believe that? It didn’t matter. Soon enough, he would believe. This thing was coming together, and the spirit world was involved. She decided to tell him part of it. “Cynthia’s black magic tattoos mean she connected with someone who was into that stuff.”

  “A wizard?”

  Before she could answer, there was a knock on the door. Nick rose and walked to it and ushered in an old man who looked faintly familiar to Denali. “Do I know you?” she asked before Nick had a chance to introduce them.

  “Ain’t seen you in a lot of years but yeah. I remember you with a lot of blonde hair at one of the deer dances, with your grandma and sisters.”

  “John.” She smiled. “I do remember you. Good to see you again.”

  “Maybe not so good. I saw the policeman here again. Didn’t want to disturb you two but got to worrying what that meant.”

  Nick poured them each a glass of wine, as Denali told him of the new murder. “It’ll be in the papers tomorrow probably. Hopefully not with an arrest of a possible suspect.”

  “There any reason they’d suspect you?” He looked at Nick.

  Without telling him how he had found out, Nick told him he had known the girl and where.

  “Oh yeah, that one,” John said as he sipped the wine, his eyes narrowing as he considered. He looked from Denali to Nick. “She was around here, lurking in corners, putting herbs above your door.”

  “I never saw that.”

  “You wouldn’t,” John chuckled. “I took ‘em down. Blasted little wantabe witch wasn’t going to get you by those kind of shenanigans.”

  “What kind of herbs?” Denali asked.

  “Let me think. Bay, cinnamon, rosemary, thyme, verbena. She left a potion once. I took it too. Threw it in the garbage.”

  “Why did you do that?” Denali asked.

  “Because I wasn’t going to let her use the flowers wrong either.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick asked.

  “You didn’t believe—so what would be the point?”

  “And you do believe in it?” Nick asked with disbelief.

  “Might. Just better not taking a chance. You know she took your picture too.”

  “No, I didn’t. I never saw her.”

  “Maybe she had an invisibility shield,” Denali suggested looking at John thoughtfully, “but you penetrated it.”

  John took a big swallow of his wine. “Guess I did.” He looked at her. “You’re a witch too. I knew first time I saw you, but the real deal, a good witch, one born to it, ain’t you?”

  She nodded. “As was my grandmother and great grandmothers. It is on both sides for my sisters and me as the one side has the Yaqui shaman magic. Like you.”

  He smiled. “Powerful combination. Dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  “We understand. Do you do magic, John?”

  He shook his head. “Not since… No.”

  “But you did once.”

  He looked uneasy. “Maybe but no more.”

  “But if there was a storm coming, you might again if the need arose.”

  The old man looked at her and then shook his head. “Don’t want to.”

  “It’s a lot of responsibility, but sometimes, it has to be done ... for good.”

  He sucked in a breath. “I’ll leave you two.” He looked back at Denali. “Glad he’s got you until he’s ready to understand all he faces,” he said from the door as he left.

  Nick took another long draw on his cigarette. “Strange,” he said as he looked at her through the smoke.

  She smiled. “He’s a good witness as to the problem with Cynthia. I am afraid if she took photos of you, they will show up in her home. She may have talked to her girlfriends, and who knows what she told them.”

  “I see the writing on the wall. I’m being set up.”

  “It seems that way.”

  “You think by someone who used the women or created their motivations?”

  That was pretty insightful, but she supposed she should have expected it from someone used to espionage and attacks. “It could have been either. I hope we will know more tonight.”

  “Me too as I don’t relish dying for murders I didn’t do. I think I can safely say with the publicity my art career is going to be in the toilet whatever the case.”

  “If the publicity gets out.”

  “It’s pretty salacious to not. Nothing about this is good.”

  “Well there is one thing.”

  “And?” He was looking in a bleak mood and she couldn’t blame him.

  “You have a good friend in John Cordova. He has adopted you it seems.” She smiled.

  “And you. You adopted me too.”

  She smiled. “Oh no, my motives aren’t any purer than Cynthia’s.”

  He grinned. “You have had encouragement. Do you need more?”

  She shook her head. “I just am thinking you need to stop sleeping alone at night.” She laughed.

  “Ah, my alibi... the witch.”

  She laughed. “You might prefer to say the Hemstreet heiress.” She moved across the room and sat back on his lap. “Shall we take off from where we were?”

  “I might need some encouragement,” he said as he put his arms around her, stroking down her back to her buttocks. “This experience has unmanned me—an obsessive fan I didn’t know about, an old man protecting me, and now a witch who can put memories in my mind.”

  “It does sound draining.”

  He smiled as he pulled her lips to his. “Think you can help?”

  “I will give it all I have.”

  He laughed. “Sounds like that might further drain me.”

  “Are you willing to take the risk?”

  “I’ve lived a pretty reckless life. I can guarantee this is one risk I am not only willing but anxious to take.” He winked.

  Chapter Eleven

  He carried her to the bedroom, the strength in his arms, the energy of his body next to hers, rose her desire to a fever pitch.

  “I need to tell you something,” she said as he laid her on the bed.

  He smiled. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “No, it’s not that. I am just not good at it.”

  “And you know this why?”

  “Darin, my ex-husband told me I was frigid. I’ve only had limited experiences since then.” There had only been once-- a disappointment for her and the man. She had felt no arousal, and he had ended up angry, leaving in a huff.

  “Well, if it ends up you don’t want it, at any point, you just say it, and we’ll stop.”

  “All right.” She wasn’t really afraid, just didn’t think she felt desire like other women— except what was that she felt for this man?

  “Let’s just take thi
s slow.” He sat on the edge of the bed where he untied and unbuttoned her shirt. He opened it and looked at her breasts, covered now by only a red bra. “May I touch you?” he asked as he spread the top to leave a lot of her flesh open to his view and touch. She nodded. He bent gently kissing her throat and then between her breasts until he took her nipple into his mouth. Something about the lace of the bra and his sucking had her body stirred. She lifted her torso wanting more. He pulled his tank top over his head, leaving his magnificent chest and belly bare as he lay beside her.

  “Do you like this?” he asked as he stroked down her chest and pushed the bra down to leave the breasts bared. Again she almost involuntarily thrust up against his hand.

  “I want…” She didn’t know what she wanted but she ran her fingers down his body, around his nipple, through the light hair dusting his chest. His form was so masculine and perfect with hard muscle and almost silky skin. She ran her fingers over the ridges, down toward his belly and heard his intake of breath.

  “Do it, honey,” he said, “Touch me where you want.” He unfastened and removed her bra. Now bare skin to bare skin, he began kissing and stroking her everywhere open to his touch. She wanted more open. She wanted him to touch her everywhere.

  His fingers were at the button and then zipper on her pants. He unfastened and shoved them down her hips, removing her sandals as he went. He left the lacy panties in place. They were no impediment to what he did next, as he began touching her places no man ever had. She moved under his fingers wanting to be naked to him and then she was, barely aware of how it happened. Writhing under his touch, she heard moans and realized they were hers. She wanted more from him, more touch, more of his body. “I want you naked,” she managed to whisper.

  He smiled and reached down to push off his shorts. His erection sprang forth large and potent looking. She knew where she wanted him. But he was in no hurry. He played with her, driving her nearly insane as he taught her things about her body, about her needs, that she had never known. She was ready to beg him to release her when he came over her, thrust her legs apart, and then she found she’d only barely plumbed all she was capable of feeling.

  An hour later, still feeling the glow he had promised, she woke and stretched, loving the feel of the naked man’s body next to hers. She looked down his torso, the defined muscles, the flat belly with ridges, and then the trail of hair to his private parts, now as known to her as were her own. His thighs were powerful, like some Roman sculpture, a perfect example of masculinity. And all of that went with his courage, his intelligence, and the artistic skill. It was almost too much for her to take in.