Enspelled

by Samantha Stone

  Could she expect breakfast at midnight? That had always been her favorite tradition—eating an enormous breakfast after dancing for hours. Then the bands switched, and the festivities continued until two or three in the morning.

  There was something genuine about one’s actions that far past midnight, as if inhibitions flew away with the coming of the second wind, leaving partygoers with only honesty and some very worn-in shoes.

  The moment she decided to just relax already, Sebastian took a strange turn, missing the valet stand. Instead, he followed another car into the parking lot, ignoring the scowls of the young humans whose job it was to park his car.

  “They’ll get their tip,” he said with a smile as he turned the car off. “I have something for you.”

  He stuck his hand in his pocket and produced a pair of gloves. Made of delicate lace, there was only enough material to cover her from fingertip to wrist, masking her weakness.

  The gloves were the exact shade of lavender as the dress she’d chosen, which was cut straight over her collarbones, but fell down past her hips in the back.

  “There are usually a few shapeshifters, faeries, and kelpies.” Sebastian put the gloves on his lap and opened his hand, palm-up. “For all we know, Emmanuel will be here, unless he’s skipped town completely.”

  A pang of guilt tugged her for arguing to set the kelpie free, but she suspected Emmanuel would be there when they needed him. There was something about the relief she’d seen cross his face that said he’d hold up his bargain.

  When she put her sore hands in Sebastian’s, putting the kelpie out of her mind, he shot her the broad smile that won arguments before they began. It was the same expression that made it impossible not to like him. Like everyone else, a part of Briony melted every time she saw the way his full lips cocked crookedly, his earnest blue eyes kind.

  “Are they spelled?” Briony shivered while he slid the gloves on, running his fingers over the backs of her hands. Such a small touch, yet it was almost too much to bear.

  He was electric. She didn’t know whether she wanted to feel more or pull away.

  “Of course.” He winked and got out of the car, gesturing for her to stay put until he reached her door. “My lady.”

  A laugh bubbled from her despite the frigid air pressing against the exposed skin of her back. She took his proffered arm, giggling again when the expressions of the valets turned from surly to jovial the moment Sebastian shook hands with them.

  “That was kind,” she murmured in his ear, watching the ecstatic humans from the corner of her eye.

  Sebastian shrugged. “I know what it’s like to be worried about food and rent, and a few people helped me when I needed it. I’m just paying it forward.”

  Briony leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve helped more than a few people.”

  Sebastian’s blush was so subtle she was sure the only reason she saw it was the florescent lights right outside the entrance of the country club. She ran her hand across the slightly pinkened skin at the hairline around his ears.

  “It’s what I like best about you.”

  With that last sentiment, Sebastian opened the doors and they were swept away into a ball not unlike the ones she’d been used to in the thirties: the women still wore long dresses and the men had on the same dark suits.

  A few young human women donned white gloves that reached their elbows, making Briony feel less self-conscious about the gloves she wore.

  “What do these do?” she asked Sebastian quietly, stretching her fingers as they danced to a seventies funk song.

  He cut her a dark look. “I’m going to make sure you don’t find out.”

  Before long she started to see creatures. A short man who appeared human stood at the open bar. Briony only knew him to be Fey because he was the liaison between Le Marché Noir, the Fey-run black market, and her coven. They weren’t allowed to enter the market, but Christophe was always more than happy to make home deliveries—for a steep price.

  A kelpie, her long hair in braids that hit her thighs, piled hors d’oeuvres onto a plate while a shapeshifter impatiently tapped his foot behind her.

  When she saw Leila and Alexandre whispering and signing to each other across the room, she moved toward them, only for Sebastian to pull her back. “Let’s go outside first,” he said, smiling at the couple. “A little bird told me this was going to be a big night for them.”

  The room was so packed, she was glad to step out onto the patio for a breath of fresh air.

  “It’s a shame my coven doesn’t come to things like this anymore,” Briony said wistfully. They would love the live music and endless drinks. Most of all, they’d get a kick out of the 500-year-old live oak she stood next to, its gnarled limbs twisting so low, partygoers leaned against them as they talked and laughed.

  No magic created that—only nature. She rubbed a fond hand against the tree’s bark, only to look up and see Sebastian regarding her strangely.

  “I’d thought you just went to other balls; I didn’t realize your coven had forsaken parties completely.” His eyes narrowed. “Weird.”

  She couldn’t disagree.

  “The truth is, we didn’t come tonight only for the party. I brought you here for a reason.” Sebastian ran his hand through his hair, but he didn’t break eye contact. He touched her neck gently, his thumb lightly brushing her cheek and ear. “The conduit and I—we’ve found a way to undo what’s happening to you.”

  Holding her breath, Briony waited for him to finish. Is it possible? She’d never heard of anyone reversing the spell that had been cast upon her, but conduits were sources of almost endless power, which was why warlocks continuously sought them out.

  Conduits gave warlocks like Radburn the ability to do anything, while other creatures had no way to access the energy conduits possessed. Normally, the rules dictated warlocks as the trump card: they couldn’t be beaten.

  Except Sebastian gained the trust of a massive conduit, breaking every rule Briony had ever heard.

  If anyone could beat the warlocks at their own game, it was Sebastian and Gris-Gris.

  “I want to turn you into a werewolf,” Sebastian said in a low voice. He held up a hand before she could speak. “If you decide to do this, you’re not obligated to be my mate.” He cupped her face, his gaze deadly serious. “I understand why you didn’t want me to feel trapped, and I’ll never do that to you either. This is about giving you a chance to live so you can make the decision about whether you want me.”

  He smiled sweetly and kissed her on the lips. “I want you in my life, and I’d prefer it to be as my mate, but I’ll take you however I can get you.”

  Of course. Briony found herself grinning widely. I’m human now; of course I can be turned were.

  “I never would have accused you of cornering me into mating you.” She lightly swatted Sebastian on the shoulder. Her hand ached, but she didn’t care.

  She’d never expected to become a werewolf, turning into a completely different animal every full moon, but such was life. She’d be a real member of their pack, their family, and might even gain a small elemental ability.

  Would it be like her life as a witch? No. There were parts of the gifts she’d lost that she would miss for the rest of her life, but she had no plans to dwell on her past.

  She didn’t have to think about it: she chose to live, preferably with Sebastian.

  But she wouldn’t drop that bomb on him yet.

  “I’ll do it.” She hugged him tightly, tears of relief pricking her eyes. I’m not going to die. She’d never come to terms with the mortality spell to begin with. Maybe a small part of her knew, or desperately hoped, it wouldn’t fully come to pass.

  Sebastian’s face lit up. “You will?”

  She nodded, and he lifted her into the hair, his hands pressed firmly to her exposed back as he spun her in a circle.

  “I want a role in the pack and with the brewery,” s
he said in a serious voice lightened by her smile. It was a reminder that Sebastian couldn’t simply take care of her once she’d become were.

  She wanted to contribute to their growing pack.

  He kissed her hard on the mouth, then mock-scowled at her. “You know you have a place at the brewery, and don’t worry—Raphael will put you to work as soon as he gets back.”

  Thoughts of her upcoming transition fled when Sebastian’s eyes widened and his hand curled around her back, steering her into the main ballroom. It didn’t take long to see what surprised him: Sophia and Heath stood together next to Aiyanna and a strange man.

  A strange man who definitely wasn’t Cael.

  “Do you think he knows?” she whispered as Sebastian all but pulled them though the crowd.

  He shook his head in a jerking motion. “If he knew, he’d be here stopping that Scottish were from touching Aiyanna.”

  Even though he can’t have her. Sebastian didn’t say it, but Briony knew he thought the same. Cael was between a rock and a hard place: he cared for Aiyanna deeply, but his feelings were what drove him to protect her…from himself. Poor man.

  “Hey!” Sophia ran forward to hug her brother and then Briony. Both she and Aiyanna looked stunning. Tendrils of curls fell around Sophia’s face, while Aiyanna’s thick black hair had been pulled into a complicated-looking braid that seemed to come straight from a Pinterest board.

  Heath shifted uncomfortably in his suit as if he couldn’t wait to get out of it. He eyed Aiyanna’s handsome date with distrust.

  “This is Lachlain,” Sophia chirped, jerking her head at the man in question. “He’s a member of Elizabeth’s pack in Inverness.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Lachlain held out his hand to Sebastian, then Briony.

  If Sebastian disapproved of the were, he didn’t let on. He was perfectly friendly as they exchanged introductions, his only aggressive act the proprietary hand he placed on Briony’s back while she introduced herself.

  Lachlain nodded slightly at the gesture, and Briony could feel Sebastian’s arm relax against her.

  “The night’s passing quickly,” Lachlain said with a smile. “I’d like to get in a few dances before the sun rises. Aiyanna?”

  She hesitated, but placed her hand on his arm. Lachlain didn’t notice her grimace when he covered her hand with his.

  Next to Briony, Sophia cursed low. “I may have screwed up…suggesting this.”

  Sebastian shot his sister a hard look. “No, you did screw up. I trust you’ll fix this when the time comes.”

  Briony didn’t know what he meant, but before she could ask, Heath growled, raising the hairs on her neck.

  “You know she meant well.” Heath looked like he wanted to get between Sophia and Sebastian, but he didn’t, remaining by his mate’s side instead.

  A smart move, since Sophia wasn’t the type to appreciate protection she certainly didn’t need.

  “What’s going on, and who’s the ginger putting the moves on Aiyanna?” Alexandre asked as he and Leila approached.

  Leila’s cheeks were flushed, but like Alexandre, she was frowning and glancing from Sebastian to Heath curiously. If you guys fight tonight I’ll convince Wish to haunt you for the next month, she signed.

  “We’re not fighting,” Sebastian said at the same time Heath muttered, “Don’t worry about it.”

  Alexandre and Leila exchanged a wry look.

  “In that case, I’m taking my beautiful banshee away from pack business and to that spot in the tree where no one can see us.”

  Leila blushed bright red, but grinned from ear to ear when Alexandre pulled her away.

  Their happiness lifted the tension enough that everyone laughed when Briony’s stomach rumbled unexpectedly. Darned werewolf hearing. No other creatures, save shapeshifters, would have been able to hear the sound of her hunger, the result of being too nervous to grab a snack while she’d been getting ready earlier.

  “Go on and sit down; I’ll make you a plate.” Before she could protest, Sebastian kissed her quickly and made for the buffet.

  Sophia followed, calling over her shoulder that she’d try not to eat everything Heath likes before she made it back to their table.

  “She’ll bring an empty plate,” Heath murmured, his lips twitching.

  Together they found a place to sit with a view of the ballroom. Heath situated himself so he could watch Aiyanna and Lachlain, who were completing an innocent swing dance.

  “He knows he doesn’t have a shot,” Heath said. “I told him as much.”

  Surprised, Briony realized the werewolf was acting simply as a platonic date, nothing more. The vise around her heart loosened, knowing Cael’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt. “Does Sophia know?”

  Heath nodded. “She didn’t want Aiyanna to miss out because of Cael’s issues.”

  Briony understood. Aiyanna had permanent Fear of Missing Out, or FOMO.

  As far as she knew, the shapeshifter not only rarely missed an event, but she was known to be the life of those parties.

  His expression softening slightly, Heath flicked his eyes toward a shadowed area of the room near the kitchens.

  There Cael was, watching Aiyanna, his expression completely blank.

  He wore a black suit that blended into the darkness, making him so hard to notice, Briony was sure she never would have known he was there if Heath hadn’t given him away.

  “He told you he was coming?” she asked.

  “No.” Heath’s lips pursed. “He didn’t have to.” His thoughtful look turned into a grin. “I am a Head Solder, after all.”

  “We’re head soldiers.” Sophia lightly tapped Heath in the head with a fork, earning herself a bite to the inside of her wrist.

  Sebastian took a seat beside Briony, setting two heaping plates in front of them both.

  His was piled with sausage and seafood, while he’d remembered her preference for colorful vegetables. Somehow he’d managed to put the equivalent of a four-course Réveillon dinner onto a single plate.

  Réveillon was one of her favorite New Orleans Christmas traditions, letting families have long, delicious meals throughout the season. It was the continuation of an old tradition to fast all day for Midnight Mass on Christmas, after which there was a feast every year.

  Now, restaurants offered the dinners most nights throughout December.

  When she said as much, Sebastian threw his head back and laughed.

  “If you think this is a Réveillon meal, I can’t wait to bring you to Galatoire’s. You’ll swear your coven put a spell on it.”

  She smiled. “It’s a date—but only if you let me take you to Arnaud’s.”

  They argued over which dinner would be better, and it was so nice focusing on something as comforting and normal as Christmas traditions that Briony almost forgot about the warlocks. Almost.

  If her hands didn’t hurt so much holding a fork to scoop up her mirliton, Radburn and his float would have left her mind completely.

  That is, until Cael shouted, “Warlocks!” just loud enough for their table to hear over the music.

  The humans and most of the creatures didn’t notice, but those creatures who did spread the word quickly, their whispers hisses hitting even Briony’s inferior ears. Women gathered their purses from the chairs they’d stashed them on and men grabbed their suit jackets.

  They weren’t staying to fight; they were fleeing, their increasing absences apparent to even the humans.

  Sebastian, Heath, and Sophia got to their feet. Heath and Sebastian’s hands were in their pockets, while Sophia held her small clutch as if it were a weapon—and it likely was.

  Briony didn’t rise from her seat, but watched the band leave the stage instead. They’d been mid-song on “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” and stopped as suddenly as Cael’s pronouncement had been, putting down their guitars and stand-up base.

  “I’ll be right back,” Sebastian
said into her ear before walking away from the table at a brisk clip.

  Briony barely heard his words. Something’s going to happen onstage.

  Three beautiful women sauntered out from behind the curtains right as a short human ran into Briony’s chair, practically falling over her lap.

  “Sorry,” the human murmured, tucking a lock of bottle-blonde hair behind her ear with a trembling hand. Even so, her head was turned in a position where Briony couldn’t see her face.

  With her other hand, she placed a pair of wax dots the size of dimes into Briony’s palm. Now she looked up, revealing a face Briony recognized despite its heavy makeup and pair of bright purple contacts.

  Only she didn’t know from where she recognized the girl. Is she even human?

  “Do I know you?”

  The young woman’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t matter. Put these in his ears, before it’s too late.” She cast a meaningful look at Sebastian.

  Wax could only mean…surely not.

  When Briony surveyed the stage again, her fears were confirmed. Two of the women were tuning harps while the other regarded her crowd with hungry eyes.

  Sirens.

  Briony was about to thank the human, but she’d blended back into the crowd, out of sight. She didn’t have time to track her down—she had to get the wax to Sebastian before the sirens started singing.

  If she didn’t, he’d be lost to them, exactly like every other unmated man within hearing distance.

  “Sebastian!” She stood now, trying to gauge where he’d gone. Luckily his and Sophia’s unusual shade of red hair stood out even in the shadows, where they conferred with Cael.

  Heath was nowhere to be seen, likely scouting the room for any unidentified warlocks.

  She pushed through the crowd wildly, determined to get to Sebastian in time. When she was ten feet away, another catastrophe hit her: Cael, Alexandre and Lachlain.

  They’d be helpless against the Sirens’ spell.

  I need four pairs of wax earplugs. As soon the desperate thought crossed her mind, the wax in her hand felt different.

  Her gloves had turned her single pair into four.