Out of the Broomcloset

by Ashlyn Chase

  “Sit. You’re making me nervous.”

  Michele blew out a breath and flopped down beside him on the futon. “How am I supposed to feel? This lunatic almost killed me!”

  Vic gently swept a long strand of hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear. “You never told me about that third attempt.”

  She chewed her lower lip. She could feel cold invading her chest. “I . . . I will. Soon.” She swallowed hard and whispered, “But, it was so scary, not to mention humiliating.”

  He slid an arm around her. “I’ve been humiliated a few times. Don’t worry. It’ll never leave this room.”

  “This is different. You weren’t . . .” Her lack of words had her wondering how she would ever tell him about this.

  “You’re safe,” he said. “I’m here and Grant’s not.”

  She reached around his warm, strong body and pulled herself closer. His thumb stroked her collarbone and comforted her. Then her hand bumped up against something hard. “What’s that?”

  “Protection,” he said and plucked a gun from behind his back. He laid it on the small table next to them, making sure the safety was on. If he was worried that she might voice an objection, he didn’t need to be. Besides, he needed it for his own protection just as much as hers. You could never be too careful around stalkers.

  “I don’t mind telling you, I’m terrified. Having you nearby is nice, but he’s a psychopath. He’s clever and careful and always has to be the only man around me. I’m afraid he’ll hurt you if he sees us together.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” He patted the firearm. “I can take care of myself.”

  Even if he was a little arrogant, she wished she had his confidence. Of course, Vic didn’t understand what he was getting into.

  She couldn’t let herself be lulled into a false sense of security just because this handsome hunk was always hanging around. She bit her lip. She couldn’t let him think he was able to overcome this particular stalker with his usual inner and outer strength.

  “What was Donovan doing?” she asked.

  “He seemed to be shopping.”

  A knot tightened her stomach and told her that she might not like the answer to her next question. “What did he buy?”

  Vic leaned back and stretched his arms across the back of the futon. “I saw most of the things, but the assortment means nothing to me. Maybe you can figure out from his shopping list what he’s up to.”

  Michele nodded. “I might. Some of what goes on in sorcery is the same as witchcraft, just misused for evil ends.”

  Vic listed the items as if they were merely groceries. “He had dragon’s blood ink and a few prepackaged items. Wormwood, sandalwood, chicory and poppy seeds. Oh, and a pile of black candles.” He watched Michele’s eyes grow progressively larger.

  “Crap.” She buried her face in her hands.

  “What? Tell me what that stuff means. I might be able to predict the guy’s next move.”

  She raised her head but her eyes were closed tight and the lids trembled. “Wormwood and sandalwood combined can raise the dead. Even, if he’s not doing that, he can use the wormwood alone to increase his psychic power.”

  Vic didn’t react, telling himself not to show a shred of doubt. Obviously, she believed this guy could do those things, and she was scared.

  Then, Michele told him something that made sense. “It’s also poisonous in anything but small doses and can be used to make a very addictive liquor that’s now outlawed called Absinthe.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why would you carry something like that?”

  “Because it’s also very powerful when used to attract love. The two things that people want most are love and money. They come here to help improve their lives—not end them. Besides, customers in this shop are warned about anything that could be poisonous, and Wiccans stick to the accepted uses. Some things we can’t order at all anymore, like Belladonna.”

  “Sounds like the unaccepted uses could be a clue as to what he has in mind. I’m not worried about you drinking anything he tries to give you. You wouldn’t fall for that.”

  “Unless he uses mind control. I’d bet money that the black candles are to protect him from me. If he tries some of his spells to get close enough to hurt me with non-magical tactics.” She shuddered.

  Vic listened in silence. He didn’t know what the hell to say, anyway.

  Michele sighed. “There’s more than just the wormwood to worry about. Chicory can be used to remove obstacles and open locks. It’s even used to produce invisibility.”

  Don’t laugh, Vic. Whatever you do, don’t laugh. He cleared his throat. “You’re very knowledgeable. And, the poppy seeds?”

  “Used in love spells and also invisibility spells.”

  “How?”

  “Enchanted and used in food for love. Soaked in wine, then sipped daily for five days to become invisible at will.”

  “Aren’t those things poison too?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay. So all you have to do is let me taste all your food and drink for you.”

  She stared at him like he was loony.

  “Can’t even get a tiny smile out of you right now, huh?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry.”

  He watched her face and could almost see her mind churning. Her eyes narrowed. She made a growling noise and slammed her fist on the cushion. “I’m so friggin’ angry! I just provided him with everything he needed to use against me—maybe against both of us.” She jumped up and marched toward the shelves. “That’s it, I’m going to make a protection amulet for you.” Michele pulled a length of leather cord off a spool and cut it.

  Next she grabbed what looked like a flat rock with a hole in the middle. She looped the leather and pushed the loop through the hole and the ends through the loop. Then she pulled it tight and closed her eyes. Clasped in her left fist, she thrust it toward the ceiling.

  “Goddess, I charge this tool of the craft to protect its wearer against all harm. So mote it be.” She remained in that position for a few moments until her eyes fluttered open.

  She must have seen the incredulous look on Vic’s face because she threw her hands in the air and said, “Damn, I shouldn’t be bringing you into all of this. You obviously think I’m a head case, and if you’re not prepared for black magic, he could kill you.”

  “No. Please don’t think . . .”

  At that moment there was a knock at the door and Michele jumped.

  “Easy,” Vic said, his voice low and steady. “I’ll go see who it is.” He placed the weapon in his back waistband and walked to the door. Opening it a crack, he said, “It’s Savern.”

  He let Savern poke her head around the corner until she spotted Michele.

  “Kip is here. It’s not nearly as busy, and I’m fine, so take your time with Vic.”

  “I’ll be out soon.”

  Savern nodded but repeated, “Take your time,” and closed the door.

  Michele let out a long breath and cursed. “I might as well get out here. Thanks for coming. Sorry to take up so much of your time for nothing.”

  Vic came up beside her. “What are you talking about? I’m not leaving.”

  “Well, I don’t know how you can possibly help me if you don’t believe that magic can be a real threat.”

  “No. I’m not arguing that. I’m being open-minded. You’re convinced that he has power going way beyond my scope of knowledge. I’m certainly not an expert on the subject but I believe you and that’s what counts.” Vic put an arm around her and gathered her into a hug. He felt her tremble.

  “Just in case, I’ll carry your amulet. What I want to do now is anticipate his next move, plan for it, and execute that plan to stop him once and for all. It sounds as if we might have at least five days.”

  She placed the amulet around his neck. It felt cool and surprisingly light. She hugged him and he was glad he had humored her. He wanted to hold her close. Who was he kidding? He wanted to boff
her senseless—as soon and as much as possible. Oh, man—he had it bad.

  “I appreciate it, Vic. Really I do, but you can’t be here all the time.”

  He stroked her hair and softened his voice. “Why not? I have a cell phone and a laptop.”

  “You mean . . . you’d be my full time protector?” She leaned back and looked in his eyes.

  “I could. Would you like me to be?”

  “Donovan’s armed with knowledge of the dark arts, and he’s pathologically jealous. If he shows up it’ll be dangerous for you.”

  “I’ll take the risk.” Vic cupped her jaw and stroked her cheek with his thumb as gently as he could. Deep in her eyes, he could see a glimmer of hope.

  Chapter 4

  He guided her back to the futon and sat next to her.

  “That’s very sweet of you, but don’t you have to shop or do laundry sometimes?”

  “I have a housekeeper who also does the shopping. I send my laundry out. I can work while I’m here. I’ll have calls rerouted to my cell phone, and if I can set up my laptop in here . . .”

  “Wait a minute,” Michele said. Something about this seemed too good to be true. “Why are you doing this?”

  He took a deep breath. “Two reasons. One—I’m a friend of Alex’s. And the other reason is—well, it’s more personal.”

  Michele scrutinized her larger than life godsend. He seemed about to squirm in his seat. What could he find difficult to say? Could it have something to do with his sister? Did her stalker hurt her? Did he feel guilty? Responsible somehow?

  “Vic, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I understand.”

  He leaned back and seemed to be relieved. “You’re very thoughtful of others. That’s rare. Even in the middle of your own terror you’re thinking of my laundry.”

  Michele smiled at looked at her lap. “Well, you don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to get involved. I guess you’re thoughtful too.”

  “Michele.”

  His voice was low and masculine, protective and warm. He said her name like he’d stay by her side night and day. If only he could tell her that everything would be all right in his reassuring voice. But she knew he couldn’t.

  Vic wove her fingers through his and squeezed her hand. “I want to help you, and not because I feel obligated. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

  “If you have a housekeeper and a laundry service, I guess you sure don’t.” She squeezed his hand in return.

  At last he flashed his winning smile. His eyes seemed to dance, and it wasn’t solely due to the candlelight. “Ah, you’re finally dishing it back. That’s good. So, you’ll let me help you?”

  She nodded. “I’d be an idiot to turn you down, but I can’t afford to pay you for your time. Can you wait for what little money I can give you until the shop is clearing more profit, not that I know when that will be?”

  Vic’s face was usually expressive, but maybe he could turn it on and off. Michele thought it seemed to be stuck in neutral.

  “Vic? Is that all right? I can give you some money as soon as the rent is paid. And we’re having a psychic fair soon. That should make us a good amount.”

  “No. That’s not all right. I don’t want your money. You’re not hiring me. I’m doing this because I want to. That’s it. Period.”

  He let go of her hand. She felt a moment of panic at the loss of his warmth and wondered how she had offended him.

  Then he placed his hands on either side of her face. He slanted his head and descended, fusing his mouth to hers. He opened his lips, and she opened to him. The newly stirring passion inside Michele flamed and tingled. A visceral reaction distracted her in a blissful way from her circumstances and surroundings. Moments later, her body relaxed and felt like jelly. Good thing she was sitting down.

  He released her lips, leaving her momentarily speechless, yet he didn’t pull away. She hadn’t expected to be excited by a new man in her life, especially now, but this one made her pulse race and her body tingle. She couldn’t discourage him—didn’t want to

  Michele closed her eyes and sought his lips, again letting herself relax into his strong body. His mouth was like the rest of him. Warm. Safe. She felt like she was melting and slipped her arms around his neck. He held her in his strong grasp, possessing both her lips and body. The fluttering deep inside her was all she needed and her psyche cried out, go for it.

  Their tongues explored, touched, retreated and touched again. He reached under her thigh and pulled her leg over his. Barely aware of her previous fear, Michele let pleasure crowd out everything else, and she felt herself slide onto his lap. She wished this kiss would last until morning.

  She didn’t know how long they’d been kissing, but after she pulled away, he caught her lips between his in several follow-up kisses that zapped her insides like aftershocks. She felt the tingles not only on her mouth, but throughout her body. She wanted to let go and embrace her lusty nature.

  Before Donovan, when she’d given herself to a man she did so without hesitation or shame. Why should I let one ass hat ruin my life?

  Michele held Vic’s gaze and made her decision. She pulled her top off over her head. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this—especially not now and not here but being around him felt like a force of a nature was taking over.

  His eyes widened as they wandered over her black lace bra. She unfastened it, exposing her generous breasts. She heard his breath hitch. She’d been told more than once she had beautiful breasts, and now, more than ever, she hoped it was true.

  Vic started reaching for one, but hesitated. She took his hand and brought it to her aching fullness. He looked into her eyes, questioning. She nodded.

  He began a slow but thorough breast massage. Michele loved having her breasts rubbed exactly the way he was doing it, with a firm, sensual touch. Her hard nipples zinged with pleasure every time he caught them between his fingers and gave a slight squeeze. She tipped her head back and moaned.

  After plenty of touching, stroking, cupping and squeezing she abandoned all reserve and straddled him. Her nipples bobbed in front of Vic’s mouth. She knew he’d get the hint. Placing his arms around her waist, he drew her to him and took her nipple in his warm mouth. He sucked it in deep and the vacuum-like pressure yanked at Michele’s throbbing womb, making her crave to be filled by him.

  * * * * *

  Vic reveled in the feel of Michele’s soft, full breasts in his mouth and her cries of pleasure. He suckled one and played with the other making sure both breasts got equal attention. Every time he pulled his mouth back, her nipple would pop out of his mouth and her breast would jiggle and bounce.

  God, I love that.

  He swirled his tongue over her areola. He could suckle her as long as she wanted him to. Her breathing deepened as did her moans. She found his erection with her pelvis and rubbed against it in teasing circles.

  He had stopped questioning the rightness of their mating dance. He let her lead the way, thrilled with her uninhibited willingness to initiate it. She exuded free-spirited bohemian sexuality. So different from the scheming women he’d met in the past.

  Something was intruding on his bliss, and it wrenched him back to his rational mind. Someone was knocking on the door.

  “Oh!” Michele bolted upright and refastened her camisole. “What if that’s Alex? No. It must be Savern. She’s probably worried about me.” She spoke so fast it sounded like nervous babbling. “At least I know it’s not Donovan. He’d just barge in.”

  Vic almost hoped it was Donovan. Maybe he could get rid of this pent-up frustration by bashing his head in. He let out a long breath. There would have been something to worry about if no one had stopped him. He was unprepared for her passionate response—and his. He hadn’t thought to bring a condom, and it certainly looked like she was leading the way to where he’d need one.

  He accidentally touched her firm, round bottom as he helped her up and shuddered. He’d have to e
xplore the rest of her if she did that to him again. Moreover, she probably would. This was just a time-out. The game clock would start again.

  * * * * *

  Huddled under a bridge on the Halifax River, Donovan reread the ancient dust-covered text with intensity and determination. The full moon glistened on the water, yet there wasn’t time to gaze at it. Not yet. It was almost midnight, and Donovan Grant, wearing a full-length black cape, stared from the book to the items placed on the ground before him. His latest assault appeared to be almost ready.

  Four skulls were set equidistant apart, on either side of him. He lit a black candle, dripped black wax on top of each skull, and affixed an unlit black taper to it. An iron cauldron stood on short legs near the mid-point and contained a heap of dried herbs and sticks.

  Only a few things remained to be done. Donovan surveyed the preparations and nodded, pleased with himself.

  He drew a square in the dirt surrounding the cauldron, checked the book again, and scratched symbols in each corner. Taking some of the twigs out, he tied them with black twine in the shape of an X and replaced them over the herbs in the middle of the cauldron.

  At last he stuck his head out from under the bridge and watched as clouds passed over the glowing round moon. It was time. “I’ll find you, bitch, and this time you won’t see me coming.”

  After lighting the candles and closing his eyes, he raised his arms. He felt the black fabric of his sleeves blow gently in the breeze.

  The chant he had memorized rose from his lips in a low drone. “Roat mana, roat mana, roat mana, roat mana . . .” He made one quarter-turn and repeated the chant, then the same again, and finally, after turning for the fourth time, the gentle breeze picked up and his sleeves were flapping. The cool wind seemed to blow from the west, not from the ocean as it usually did. He faced the cauldron again and opened his eyes.

  He lifted each skull in succession, and tossed each lit black candle and skull into the vat of herbs. A thick gray smoke arose. The wind shifted a hundred and eighty degrees, then the dark miasma rising from the pot, floated in a northerly direction. As the ribbon darkened and thickened, an evil chortle burst from deep in his diaphragm. He shifted his position to intercept the smoke and it filled his nostrils with a foul odor. When the smoke filled his ears the world went silent.