I know it’s late notice, want to meet tonight? My phone will be off, promise. Starting ceremony with Revel soon. After that?
Who?
Revel, our shaman.
Thought you said shaman is Hallmar.
He goes by several names.
What is last name?
Sinsit.
When his phone rang Vincent about dropped it. Genevieve, calling him. Damn, the volume should have been turned down. Several pack members looked in his direction but fuck it. He moved further into the trees and answered anyway.
“I can’t type fast,” Genevieve said, her tone excited. “Your shaman is Revel Sinsit?”
“It’s one name he uses. An anagram of his last name. It popped into my head just now.”
“Sinsit is a werewolf? And he’s still alive? He’s an author. Kind of famous in witch circles. He wrote a book, interviewed my family.”
“Yeah, he’s a werewolf with some extra magicky stuff thrown in.” Vincent stayed silent a moment. “You know you can’t…”
“Yes, yes, I know I can’t tell anyone. I’m not going to turn into a silly fan girl. More details about him, please.”
“He’s our spiritual leader, knows how to fight, travels frequently, and has taught me a lot about religion and life in general. And he’s slightly eccentric. He keeps a lot of his business private. I didn’t even know he was a writer. How did you hear of him?”
“He wrote a book that includes information about my family. I would love to meet him, ask him a few questions.”
No. Hell no. Introduce Hallmar to someone outside the pack? Allow that sacred part of his life to merge with the other world? Not going to happen.
“Not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“What do you want to talk to him about?”
Silence.
“I’ve got a weird problem I’m working on. He has a chapter in one of his books, Family Curses, about the witches in my family, and it’s obvious he did some research. I want to find out what he knows.”
A burst of laughter came from the direction of the fire. Time to get going, before these guys got restless.
“Tell me more about this weird problem.”
Silence for a heartbeat. “Oh all right, you’re going to find out about it eventually. It’s a love curse. The women in my family have been hexed by another family of witches with a spell that makes us go insane if we fall in love. Don’t even think about saying what I know you’re thinking.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“Good. I know it sounds loony, but it’s true. I have living proof, and Hallmar has seen it too.”
“I’m not in a position to judge anyone else for family oddities.” A curse? Seriously? “Hallmar is a fairly private person. I doubt he’ll want to talk to you.”
“He might. His book about curses, he did a lot of work on it. I’m sure he has some interest in the subject. Could you just ask him? Please, please, please? It would help me a lot.”
Bad fucking idea, his common sense screamed. Remember what happened the last time a human woman got involved with your pack? She died. You couldn’t protect April.
But Gen wasn’t just another human. His wolf hadn’t howled with desire from just the touch of a woman’s lips for a great many years. In fact, never. It had never responded this way, making his pulse race at just the sound of her voice, his cock twitch, eager to thrust inside her. Maybe because she had magic in her blood, maybe because…He couldn’t stop and rationalize his hunger. For whatever reason, Gen called to that wild part of him and he had to answer.
“I’ll see if he wants to talk to you. But even if he does, you can’t ask him anything about his business, like his werewolf origins or anything like that. It’s not appropriate.”
“Vincent! Give me some credit. Have I acted like a complete idiot since you’ve known me? I like to think I can exercise a little tact and respect the man’s privacy.”
“Okay, you’re right. You’ve been cool with Dylan and our shifter issues. I trust you.” A jolt ran through him. He did trust her, he realized, which was not the case with most women and certainly not a Nowepe woman. His mind skipped ahead a beat. Why did Gen want to work on this “weird problem” anyway? A love curse? She wanted to lift a love curse.
“I know you have to protect your people. I’ll be the picture of discretion, I promise.”
Vincent still hesitated. Merging his wolf world with the “normal” world went against all his instincts, and guarding his pack was most important. They trusted him to keep their secrets. But look where keeping a secret got Michael.
“Can you get to Bethany, around eight thirty? We should be finished with this ceremony early. Lots of pack members didn’t even come, and the ones who are here more than likely won’t talk much like we usually do. I’ll check with Hallmar, but I can’t guarantee anything. If he doesn’t want to meet with you, we can have dinner. You still want to see me, right?”
“Yes, I do still want to see you. It would be great to have my lunch and dinner bought today. Thank you for the food, by the way. That was a nice gesture.”
“I’m forgiven?”
“You’re forgiven, and if you get me a chat with Hallmar you’ll move way up on my list.”
“What list is that?”
Her voice dropped a notch. “The list of people I owe favors.”
A shiver ran through Vincent, one of those delicious kind, starting at his scalp and ending in his cock. The way she said “favors” brought to mind another vision of Genevieve naked, and now she lay spread-eagle on his bed, sweat beading her face and her…Stop.
“Don’t get excited yet. I haven’t convinced Hallmar to talk to you.”
“You will—I have faith. You’re smart and resourceful, wolfman. Smart men turn me on.”
“Women who appreciate smart men turn me on.”
He gave her directions, and they signed off. Vincent went to join the others, his mood greatly lifted.
* * * *
Leaning forward in her car seat, Genevieve strained to see the road ahead. It was black as deep space, and she wasn’t familiar with this area. Vowing to wash her car windows tomorrow, she grabbed a napkin and rubbed a spot. A little better. Vincent had told her to look for a large rock for the turnoff to a dirt road. After she’d bounced along on this ill-maintained secondary road for fifteen minutes, the thought of more ruts and bumps abusing her old Honda was not appealing. New shock absorbers weren’t in the budget, but her excitement at meeting Revel Sinsit, no, Hallmar, pushed her to drive faster.
“Ouch!” Her head hit the ceiling of the car as she rolled over a particularly deep pothole.
Curbing her enthusiasm, she slowed down and concentrated instead on what she would ask the writer. Vincent didn’t really want her here, she sensed. He’d said the ceremony was private and non-weres weren’t invited. She got that. But having the author of a book about her family curse so nearby and then finding out Vincent knew him…Way too much of a coincidence. Gen did not believe in coincidences, just fate. She was meant to talk to Hallmar.
Genevieve had skimmed through the chapter about the Birch women in Family Curses again. Nothing jumped at her she hadn’t read before. Hallmar had mostly focused on the originality of the curse. Not many people hexed an entire family with a spell. He’d started his query by speaking with Rebecca Birch, Gen’s grandmother, asking her how it all started.
An Ashcroft witch, Belise, caught her husband having sex with a Birch witch. She nearly killed him with a hatchet, but the man managed to escape, never to be heard from again. The Birch woman also fled far, far away. Furious, Belise then concocted a spell designed to turn any woman from the Birch family insane if she ever fell in love. According to Hallmar, this was a powerful curse fueled by extreme rage. Belise had spent some time putting it together, and supposedly it had also driven her mad and eventually killed her.
Hallmar tracked down several Birch women and found insanity did indeed haun
t them. He concluded the chapter on a note of speculation, wondering if the madness was self-induced or even a hereditary trait. Women of generations prior to the curse did not suffer this malady, however, so there existed sufficient reason to believe in the validity of the spell. Thankfully, Hallmar had used a pseudonym, at their request, and let his readers know the names had been changed. Not like millions of people read Family Curses, but Gen had sighed with relief to see their awful dilemma was not out there for all to view.
Gen was one of the few Birch women in her generation. She had a cousin living in Italy and one in Mexico she corresponded with online, but mostly about craft. Both women were single and didn’t talk much about their relationships. None of them had attempted to lift the curse, as far as Gen knew.
Could she be the one? The one to free her family from this evil? There just had to be a reason all these occurrences had lined up. A book falling on her head. Hallmar nearby. Vincent. The thought of the sexy man brought a shiver sliding up her spine along with a frisson of doubt. Did she truly want to get involved with a werewolf? Even without a curse, hanging with Vincent would be a challenge. And the leader of his pack, no less. Life could get awfully weird with him as a lover.
But ever since she’d met the man, a piece of her soul she kept tightly bound begged to be cut loose. If she didn’t listen to her heart, didn’t at least try to follow its longing, she’d hate herself forever. Vincent called to her, loudly and incessantly, demanding she listen.
Stroking her lucky bat claw hanging from her mirror, Gen tried to calm down. Destiny had a plan for her; she would go where it led.
The dirt road ended abruptly in a clearing. Three vehicles were there, so she parked to the side next to them. Two people sat on a log by the fire and another one stood. She cracked her window slightly, and the rich smoke scent from the fire filled her nostrils.
Vincent had asked her to wait until the rest of his pack left before she approached. He was breaking protocol for her, she knew, and she didn’t want him to catch any crap from his people for allowing her to come to their special place. The standing figure waved to Vincent, got in his truck, and drove away. From this distance, one of the men seated looked like Vincent, and she assumed the other was Hallmar, who now rose and headed over to the tree line. She got out of her car and walked toward them.
Vincent stood as she came near. By firelight, his rugged face appeared almost sinister. A five-o’clock shadow dusted his chin, and the dancing flames highlighted his cheekbones. Sinister and sexy as hell. An overwhelming desire to touch him came over her, but instinct warned her to keep a distance. He smiled as she approached, and once she got nearer, he leaned in, his mouth close to her ear.
“Remember what I told you—he’s a little eccentric.” The warmth of his breath on her skin made her toes curl in her shoes. “Don’t be surprised by anything he says.”
“I won’t. Where did he go?”
“He’s taking a pee. He’ll be right back.”
“Everything went okay with your ceremony?” she asked.
“As well as it could. Hallmar Silverstein, this is Genevieve Birch. Genevieve, Hallmar.”
The man held out his hand. “Step closer to the fire. Holy shit, you are one fine-looking woman.” With the aid of a walking stick, he lowered himself to the log. “Sorry if I don’t remain standing. My arthritis gives me fits some days.”
“It’s an honor to meet you. You should stop by my shop. I have excellent remedies for arthritis.”
Thankful for the cover of darkness, Gen dipped her head, hoping neither man saw the flush she knew spread across her face. What a stupid thing to say! She sounded like a late-night infomercial. To her relief, Hallmar laughed.
“Spoken like a true Birch woman. Your ancestors were remarkable healers, and the gene has obviously passed down to you. Come, sit next to me. It’s an honor to meet you too. I’ve had the privilege to talk to several members of your family. That grandma of yours, hoo-wee! She was one wild gal.”
“You knew my Granny Rebecca?”
“You betcha, in the biblical sense, as many times as I could.”
The flush that had almost receded crept back. She turned slightly to see Vincent, and even in the dim light, could tell he tried to suppress a grin. How old was Hallmar? She longed to ask but remembering her promise not to pry, kept her mouth shut.
“You finally get that nasty curse lifted?”
“No, which is why I want to talk to you. Did you ever hear more about how to reverse it?”
“Sure did. When I talked to Belise Ashcroft…”
“You talked to her? In person? I don’t remember reading a conversation with Belise in your book.”
“Because she was half mad when I saw her, and anyway the book had been printed by then.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone? Contact one of the women in our family?”
Vincent nudged her leg slightly. Warning her to watch her tone, no doubt, but she didn’t care. She had to know.
“I did. I found, let’s see, what was her name? Doris. Doris Birch. I did a little digging around, located her, and told her what I’d learned.”
Doris. Another woman who’d succumbed to the curse. She chose a gun to the mouth as her release and had apparently taken this bit of information to the grave with her. Shit.
“When? When did you talk to her? Where was she?”
“I really don’t recall, I just know I passed on what Belise told me.”
“Which was?”
“Let me see…So long ago. I ran into Belise while traveling. Greece, I think. I recognized her name from talking to your family so I bought her a few glasses of ouzo to loosen her tongue. Wanted to hear her story. I believe she was looking at the end of her life, feeling a tad remorseful, I seem to recall. Said she may have been a bit hasty placing such a powerful curse. Maybe she felt bad for your family, or maybe realized the effect it had on her. She had her good and bad moments when we talked. You got a strong grip, darling. Maybe you could lighten up that hold?”
Gen realized she had leaned in close to Hallmar, and her hand rested on his arm, grasping it hard. She pulled away. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Been a while since I had a woman grab me like that. Anyway, guess I had a few glasses over the course of the night too. I truly can’t remember exactly what she said. But I’ve got my notes, in my house here in Bethany. I could dig them out and give them to you. I always take notes.”
“Oh yes, please. I would love to have them.” Gen bounced with excitement. “My mother and grandmother tried to find you. They never could. They figured you died.”
“Gen.” Vincent shot her a warning look.
Hallmar laughed. “I more or less did. Revel Sinsit did, anyway. One of those curses I wrote about, the Irish family—O’Malley. Every third daughter born to a family was supposed to have a third tit, uh, breast. I found a third daughter, had to investigate.”
Don’t ask, don’t ask. “And did she?”
“Sure did. Beautiful woman, that girl. Her fiancé wasn’t too happy with my attention to her. Came after me with guns blazing. I decided to end my writing career while I was still alive.”
He pulled out a pipe and a pouch and remained silent for a moment as he filled and lit it. The scent snaking into her nostrils wasn’t tobacco. Marijuana? No. Oh please, don’t let this man be smoking crack.
“Salvia divinorum,” Hallmar said in answer to her unspoken question. “Helps me meditate. I like it before a run.”
He was leaving. She needed more information and she needed those notes. “Tell me, have you ever, in all your travels, come across a similar curse and has anyone ever broken it?”
“No, I’ve never seen a curse like this. It’s strong, that’s for sure. Damn if I can remember what Belise told me. It’s there in my notes, I’m certain. Maybe if I took a look, might jog my memory too. I’ll gather them up and get them to you. They’re just traveling notes, got to warn you; they’re not in any kind of order. You
might have to sort through them.” Hallmar rose slowly, leaning on his staff as he did.
Genevieve made a mental note to send him a few herbs and a salve she had especially for arthritis.
“Mind telling me why you’re delving into this now?” he asked.
Genevieve pondered for a moment. She knew this question might come up and decided a partial truth would suffice.
“My friend just found true love, and it’s got me thinking. I’m not getting any younger, and I’d like to have a family one day. With a man I love. One more thing.” She dug into her bag. “Would you please sign my copy of Family Curses? It’s just for me. I promise not to tell anyone Revel Sinsit is still around.”
Gen stole a glance at Vincent. She’d promised not to act silly, but she would not pass up this chance for an autograph. Hallmar took the book and pen and scrawled a few words while Genevieve held her flashlight.
“You’ll get me those notes? Promise?”
Hallmar raise his hand. “I swear on my granddaddy’s grave, I will. Vincent, I’d like to take a look at that Bible and family tree from your new member, Dylan. Let him know I’ll call him tomorrow, if you would. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a good run. These ceremonies suck the energy right out of me sometimes.”
He pulled off his sweater, pushed off his boots, and before Gen knew what was happening, he’d dropped his pants and stepped out of them.
“Uh, I’ll just give you a little privacy…”
She pointed her body toward Vincent who appeared to be struggling to contain his laughter.
“It’s okay—he’s done.” Vincent gently pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Not like I don’t enjoy looking at you.” He turned her the other way.
Genevieve gasped. Where Hallmar had just been, a magnificent wolf now stood, silver with grey streaks running through his coat. He lifted his nose and sniffed the air, then padded over and brought his muzzle to her face. She sat absolutely still, part of her certain he would bite her nose off, but another part amazed. What a beautiful creature! She willed her hand not to reach out and pet him. Hallmar then moved to Vincent and tossed his head. Vincent stood.
Sins of Long Ago Page 6
