by Ashlyn Chase
Thinking about the object of his desire and the wild, abandoned sex that had marked the beginning of their relationship, he knew he must possess her again. He had to convince her that it was pointless to refuse him. After all, he was stronger, smarter, and more devious than she, but with her understanding of magical powers and her body to keep him satisfied, coupled with his powerful ambition and coaching, they could be infallible. They could do anything. They could rule the world. And with the powerful grail she’d help him find . . . perhaps they could even cheat death.
The smoke had become a dark trail along the bank of the river, flowing in a steady rhythm, without dissipating.
He pulled a bag of seeds from his pocket and placed a few on his tongue for only a moment. He spit the seeds into the cauldron and walked over to the river. Leaning as far over the water as he could without losing his tenuous balance, nothing except the reflection of the moon showed. His own reflection was gone.
He straightened to his full height, smiling with pride for his nocturnal efforts, and climbed up from under the bridge to follow the long, dark, finger pointing the way.
Donovan traveled right through the middle of town without fear of discovery. The thin gray ripple made a sharp, right turn and flowed over the next bridge toward the east. Crossing the river, he smiled, positive he was on the right path. Michele loved the ocean and would live within walking distance of the beach. Once on the other side of the bridge the smoke led him north again. Despite the late hour, the strip of road that ran along the beach buzzed with energy. Clubs, restaurants and lounges were taking money from the visiting race fans.
Donovan’s mission wouldn’t allow anyone to get in his way. His eyes never left the course as he strolled along the sidewalk, stepping off occasionally to avoid staggering partygoers.
How many miles had he walked? Two? Three? What did it matter? If Michele was at the end of this black rainbow he’d follow it all night.
The smoke turned left onto a side street. An apartment building appeared at the end of the block. It shouldn’t be long now. He could almost smell her, taste her. And, oh, how he longed to touch her. With any luck she was still a sound sleeper and still slept in the nude. He needed her—body and soul—and would do anything to possess her. But he had to be careful, or she’d run again. He had to convince her they were meant to be together. Failing that, she’d realize she didn’t stand a chance against him and surrender.
He’d accept victory either way.
The ribbon curled around the building to the back door. It paused and floated while Donovan performed the lock-opening spell. He withdrew a powder he had made from chicory and moonwort. He shook about a tablespoon into his hand and blew it into the keyhole. Without touching the handle the door opened. She and her friend were sitting with their backs to him. He stepped inside and the door closed silently behind him.
* * * *
In their apartment, wearing their bathrobes, Michele and Savern sat on the living room couch, watching Bram Stoker’s Dracula on DVD.
Michele reached for the popcorn bowl that sat between them. “Daniel Day Lewis would have been the perfect Dracula.”
“Yeah, but I like Gary Oldman in this version.”
“Proof positive that Hollywood can make anyone sexy.” Michele ate a few pieces of popcorn and licked the butter off her fingers. “Remember the original versions?
“Without special effects? They aren’t nearly as frightening.”
“Or sexy. Some ugly dude just biting and sucking.”
“Mmm. No foreplay.”
Savern chuckled and Michele tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in her mouth.
“I heard that in the old movies, the blood was made of chocolate syrup,” Savern said.
Then she raised her eyebrows. “Oh, chocolate. I could go for some chocolate ice cream right about now. Would you be a dear? I’m so comfortable, and I don’t want to get up.”
“Forget it. We don’t have any, and I’m not going out for it.”
“Why? Afraid Dracula might get ya?”
“I’m more afraid that Donovan might get me. I’d feel pretty stupid if I walked right into his grasp on my way to satisfy your chocolate craving. I’ve had a weird feeling all night.”
“It’s probably just the movie.” Savern scooped up a handful of popcorn, crunching the whole thing at one time. “I can’t see how you’d be attracted to Donovan in the first place.”
“Yeah. He used to be good-looking before his insides turned ugly. He knew it too. He always said we looked good together. I never understood what difference it made.”
“I don’t understand why he’s still after you. Wouldn’t you think he’d find someone else to look good with, and move on?”
Michele lost her appetite and pushed the popcorn toward Savern. “I don’t know what he wants anymore. I’m pretty sure he wants to punish me for rejecting him, other than that I can only guess.” She shuddered as she remembered his lust for the grail that bestowed supernatural powers so they could ‘rule the world’. She couldn’t tell Savern about that though. No one was supposed to know of its existence, except for the select few witches that had those supernatural powers. Michele had discovered it by accident. Telling Donovan about it was the biggest mistake she’d ever made.
“You’re kidding. After all this time?”
“Yeah. He can hold a grudge longer than anyone I know. He still hates his parents for leaving him with relatives he barely knew—and they never came back for him.”
“Really? What kind of upbringing did he have?”
Michele shrugged. “I think it was kind of screwy. The woman he was left with was all over his case. In fact he called her his “smother.” I never heard a thing about the guy she was married to. I think he was away a lot of the time. Eventually he ran away and lived on the streets. Then he wound up in a foster home or two. It might have been better if he’d been left to himself and allowed to grow up wild.”
“Raised by wolves, huh?” Savern shook her head.
“I think the wolves would have made better parents.”
As the two of them sat glued to the TV, Michele thought she felt a cool breeze and shivered, but she didn’t mention it to Savern. Crediting her imagination, or the genius of special effects, she just pulled her bathrobe tighter.
“Did you register us for that psychic fair?” Savern asked.
“Yeah. I don’t mind telling you, I’m a little worried about it now that Donovan’s in town.”
“Do you think he’ll show up there?”
“Possibly. I know we need the business, though. We can’t afford not to go.”
Savern’s cat, Bast, rushed past them with such astounding speed that the women burst out laughing.
“It looks like she’s chasing flying mice,” Savern said. The cat had both of them giggling until she said she’d go dig her out from under her bed and soothe the poor thing.
When Savern returned several minutes later, she had a look of confusion on her face. “I searched my entire bedroom and couldn’t find her.”
“I can search my room too, but I think my door has been shut tight all evening.”
“You’re right. It’s still closed.” Savern scratched her head. “So where could she be?”
“In the bathroom?” Michele offered.
“No, I looked there too. I even checked the cabinet, the wastebasket, and opened the shower curtain—twice. It makes me nervous when my familiar goes nuts.”
“She’ll probably come out from her hiding place and curl up between us on the couch in a few minutes.” Michele wasn’t as calm as she tried to appear.
They agreed to make an all-out search of the house if Bast didn’t come out by the time they finished their movie.
An hour later they had seen the resolution of the demon, Dracula, defeated in his castle in Transylvania, and they turned off the DVD player and television. Still no Bast.
Michele began calling her while searching around and under
the living room furniture.
“I’ll open a can of cat food,” Savern said. “She always comes running when she hears the can opener.”
“Why not open her favorite, real tuna?” Michele suggested.
“Good idea. I’ll check the lower cabinets while I’m in there.”
“Do you think she could get into one and close it behind her?”
Savern proceeded to the kitchen. “I’ve heard of familiars doing strange things.”
The kitchen cabinets creaked open and banged shut.
“If she was scared enough, she might have been able to—I don’t know—figure out a way to hide inside of something.”
She and Savern were grasping at straws, but she opened the doors on the armoire in the living room and the baker’s rack in the dining area. Nothing.
After the whir of the can opener hadn’t produced any sign of Bast, Savern said, “I’ll take the tuna with me and look in my room again.” She headed down the hall.
Michele noticed her friend’s knitted brow, followed her, and said, “I’ll check my room too. Maybe I left my door open a crack, and like you said, she was so scared she pushed her way in and closed it with her tail or something.”
Savern turned around, gave her a weak smile and hugged her. “Highly unlikely, but thanks.”
When she leaned back, Michele noticed tears in her dear friend’s eyes. No matter how tough Savern seemed on the outside, Michele knew that it was a layer of rigid, dark chocolate, and inside she was made up of a gooey sweet caramel center.
She opened her bedroom door and shivered with another chill. Maybe a window was open. She walked over to check, but the windows were closed and locked.
“Savern,” she called. “Do you have a window open?”
“Nope. I already thought of that and checked them.”
“I’ll check the living room sliders.” They couldn’t have been open. They had the curtains closed over them and the fabric never stirred. What the heck, she’d look.
The chilly feeling followed her into the living room and even though the sliders were closed and locked, she shivered. Wait a minute. Maybe it was a spirit. She closed her eyes and sensed a presence. She stood still and let herself tune into its energy. Suddenly, Michele began to shake with fear. This energy was not benevolent. In fact it didn’t even feel like a departed spirit. And then it hit her. Donovan.
Terrified, Michele ran to her room and shut the door behind her. It didn’t lock, but Vic had shown her the brilliant idea of propping a chair against it. If the door opened, she’d be warned by the chair tipping over. Meanwhile, she’d pack and then sleep in her clothes.
But before that . . . She grabbed one of her older spell books off a shelf. If he knows how to make himself invisible, I’d better learn how too.
She studied the words. She didn’t have the necessary ingredients at the moment, but she could memorize what she needed to know for later. Oh, Lord and Lady. She needed all four elements. Air, fire, water and earth.
Then she hit herself upside the head. “Wait. I have them,” she whispered to herself frantically, stretching until she reached a candle on the top shelf. She set it in a decorative metal dish. Embedded in the candle were dried flowers and sticks—earth. Melted wax would represent water. Lighting it obviously took care of fire, and the smoke evoked the element of air.
For once my penchant for accessories is coming in handy.
Michele lit the candle and closed her eyes. She surrounded herself with protection in the quickest way she knew how. “Goddess, I surround myself in circles of light that nothing may cross.”
She concentrated on the ancient language. The powerful spell had been translated, but if she were going to recite it out loud, she didn’t want to inadvertently teach it to anyone else.
“Inconspicui malis: et fac me.”
Suddenly the chair hit the floor, a whoosh of air hit Michele’s face and she heard a scream.
Her eyes flew open and she saw her roommate standing in the doorway, open-mouthed.
“What’s wrong?”
Savern pointed a shaking finger at her lower half. “Look at your . . . I mean . . .You have no legs!”
Michele glanced down and indeed the spell had worked—sort of. She was invisible from waist to feet.
“I’m fine, hon. I was trying an invisibility spell, and well . . . you interrupted me halfway through.”
Savern slapped a hand over her heart. “You nearly did me in! It’s a wonder I didn’t go into labor.”
Michele chuckled. “Sorry. But it’s good to know it’ll work if and when I want it to.” She didn’t care if Donovan overheard her. Besides, it couldn’t be helped.
“Can you reverse it?”
“Probably.”
“Probably? Are you kidding me? You tried a stunt like this without knowing if you could come back from it?”
Michele sighed. “At the moment I thought of it, I didn’t care if I did.”
Chapter 5
Vic had Michele on his mind all night, and whatever sleep he managed was fitful. He was tangled in the sheets when the phone rang Sunday morning.
It was 8 a.m. He could see the digital clock as he reached for the phone, twice, before he was able to grab it. “Yeah.”
“Vic. I’m so sorry to bother you.”
He thought he recognized the voice, but he was too tired to play guessing games. He was expecting a call from a potential female bodyguard, but it was a weird time to call and set up an interview. “Who is this?”
“Michele Erikson. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“No, it’s all right, Michele.” He struggled to a sitting position. “I wasn’t asleep. What’s up?”
“I’m not sure . . . I really shouldn’t have called.”
“Really, it’s okay. What’s on your mind?”
“Something weird happened last night.”
Vic rubbed his eyes. “What was it?”
She hesitated, and her voice quivered. “Can you come over? I wouldn’t ask, but I think I need to show you.”
“Does it involve Donovan?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Savern and I are baffled.”
There was something in her voice that made him interpret the word, baffled more as scared. “Sure. But, tell me what happened.”
“I would if I could. I’m sorry for being so vague.”
Rolling out of bed, Vic grabbed his pants off the floor and hopped into them as he talked. “I’ll be right over. I’m about fifteen minutes away from your apartment.”
“You know where I live?”
“Yeah. I make it a point to . . .” Vic suddenly stopped what he was saying. In his sluggish state he almost said that he knew where all of his clients lived.
“Yeah, Alex told me.
“Okay, so where do you live?”
“I’m on Peninsula Drive. It’s close.”
“Wow, nice address.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there soon.”
* * * * *
Moments later, Vic was in his Volvo C70 backing out of his attached three-car garage. He imagined all kinds of frightening scenarios and hoped that whatever was happening didn’t have anything to do with hoodoo voodoo. Thugs he could handle, crowd control he could handle. Stalkers, using threats of black magic to play mind games, he didn’t know how to handle.
Driving down the boulevard a little faster than he ordinarily would have, he rounded the corner by Michele’s apartment building and just missed a swarm of tourists. The crowd split down the middle and fled to opposite sidewalks, some yelling obscenities at him as they ran.
“Damn race weeks,” he muttered.
Abandoning the Volvo in the parking lot, he didn’t take time to lock it or turn on the alarm. Instead he rushed to the entrance and hit the buzzer. The door clicked open without Michele’s voice coming over the intercom. Running up three flights of stairs used to be nothing for him, but he was puffing by the time he reached apartment 304.
He took a mome
nt to catch his breath and listen for any noise on the other side. When he knocked, Michele opened the door without darkening the peephole or sliding a chain across.
“How did you know I wasn’t Donovan?”
She stared at him as if he had just asked her a trick question but surprised him with a trick answer. “Because you knocked.”
Vic shook his head and stepped inside.
He scanned the apartment. Except for dozens of lit candles, which Vic assumed was part of the new age decor, it was a typical two-bedroom layout with a large living room straight ahead and a small kitchen tucked into the corner near the front door. The breakfast bar separated it from the dining area and that was blocked off from the living room by the back of the couch and a sofa table. The bedrooms had to be off the only hallway.
Vic glanced around. “Nice place.”
Michele leaned close to him and whispered, “You’re just being nice. It’s no highbrow address.
Bending so he could whisper in her ear and have an excuse to get closer to her, he said, “I still think of myself as middlebrow.” He inhaled her heady scent. Musk? Maybe it was pure pheromones. She turned him on like an electric drill every time he stood near her. Concentrate, Vic. You came here to help the girls. “Is Savern here?”
“Yeah. She’s in her room. She’s really upset.”
Michele peeked around the corner and called out, “Vic is here. I was about to tell him what happened last night.”
Savern shuffled into the living room, wearing a long, white nightgown and blue terrycloth bathrobe that didn’t quite close around her expanding middle. Without looking at either of them she flopped onto the couch. Michele took a seat next to her and Vic selected a nearby blue-upholstered armchair.
Michele patted Savern’s leg and looked over at Vic. “Her cat, Bast, is missing.”
