by Ashlyn Chase
Michele blew out a long breath. “It’s no use, Vic. He could be anywhere or nowhere.”
“Let’s get out of here, then.”
“I’m with you,” she said, and they both started packing. “I’m going to perform a slew of spells when we get home. I hope you can amuse yourself for a while.”
“Yeah, I’ll be polishing my gun.”
* * * * *
Michele needed to go to the shop to do the spell she had in mind. Savern was with Alex and Vic had said he’d watch the shop from the other side of the street for a while. See if Grant showed up if he thought Michele was alone. She’d talked him into that since she was having a hard time concentrating on the magic she could do with Vic around. This spell in particular was something he’d never approve of. She was going to trap Donovan Grant in her storeroom.
When he dropped her off, he swept her into a long, deep kiss, including a dip that had her giggling against his lips.
“If he doesn’t show up, I’ll check back in an hour at the most.”
She unlocked the back door. “Take your time. I promise I’ll lock and deadbolt both doors.”
He looked at her askance. “You seem a little too comfortable. I thought you were afraid locked doors didn’t keep Donovan out.”
She waved away his comment. “I must have forgotten to lock the deadbolt before. I really think that will be enough.”
Vic studied her for a few moments. At last he scratched his head and said. “Okay. If you’re sure . . .”
“I am. Go.”
He gave her one more quick kiss, then held the back door for her and said, “I’ll wait right here until I hear the deadbolt turn.”
She rolled her eyes, but strolled in and turned the deadbolt as soon as the door closed. “All safe and secure,” she called through the door.
His muffled response was, “Good.”
Striding straight to the storeroom, Michele pulled a special book out of a locked filing cabinet in the corner. She’d remembered seeing a picture of a ward barrier that would trap and hold anyone within its nine-foot diameter.
At first she ruled it out, knowing Donovan would be too smart to just walk into a trap like that. But as she puzzled out the possibilities, she realized she could either paint the ward on the ceiling or cover it with a rug on the floor.
If she pretended to cower at the back of the room, he’d stride right over the circle and be trapped. Now—what would she do with him when she had him? That was important too. Hanna was the best person to ask. Not only did she know Donovan, but she was such a powerful witch, she had to have supernatural powers. Maybe she could add a little umph to her warded area and reduce him to ash on the spot. No. Hanna wouldn’t do that. She upheld the same Wiccan principles that Michele had been taught from the start.
While she pondered what Hanna might be able to add, she drew out her long fabric tape measure and unrolled it to nine yards. On the floor, she draped it in a circle to get the measurement right and marked one foot increments with a sharpie. Then she found a can of black spray paint.
Her long skirt might get in the way while she was painting, so she slipped out of it. If she got a bit of spray paint on her legs, oh well. It would shower off, eventually.
Book in one hand, spray can in the other, Michele stood in the center and sprayed the circle. Then she added the lines to make the pentagram. A few symbols in the spaces between the star points and she’d be done.
She consulted the book and added the symbols, while standing in the center. She was sure she was looking at some of them upside down, but as long as it looked like the picture it should work.
At last it was done. She smiled as she appraised her work and found it met with her satisfaction. Then she strode toward her skirt.
Thump.
She bounced backward and realized she had walked right into an invisible barrier.
Oh, no.
Stretching forward, she met some kind of force field. She tried to push through it, but could not. She imagined she must look like a mime as she patted the air in front of her looking for an opening.
Shit, shit, shit! I’m caught in my own ward!
She had to calm down and think. Vic. He’d be here in an hour. Did he have keys to the deadbolts? She couldn’t remember giving those to him. He’d probably break the door down if he knew she was in there and couldn’t get out.
Crap. It looked as if it might be time to call Hanna.
Michele stood still, closed her eyes and concentrated on the high priestess from her old coven in New Hampshire. She visualized her in acute detail, from her surprisingly conservative dark brown bob to her plus size suit to the pointed black shoes she always wore.
She called out in a nearly normal voice. “Hanna?”
When there was no answer and no high priestess appeared, she figured she might have to raise her voice a bit. “Hanna?”
Nothing but silence met her ears.
At last she just bellowed out at the top of her lungs, “Hanna!”
The high priestess appeared, wearing a navy blue pantsuit and zipping up her slacks. “Sheesh! Give a witch a minute, will you? I didn’t even get a chance to wash my hands.” A damp cloth appeared and she wiped her fingers, then it disappeared.
“Sorry, Hanna. I panicked.”
“I guess you did.” The shorter, broader woman placed her fists on her hips. “I don’t see any immediate danger. So, what’s the big emergency?”
“I—um . . . I’m stuck.”
Hanna glanced down at the painted floor and covered her mouth with her hand. Even so, Michele could see that she was trying to hide a smile.
“Let me guess. You were in the circle when you painted the last symbol?”
“Yeah. I know. That was pretty stupid of me. Can you help?”
“Sure.” The same rag she had used to wipe her hands reappeared and Hanna scrubbed a section of the circle closest to Michele’s feet. “Okay. Try coming out of this section.”
Michele extended her big toe and it slipped past the faded line. “Whew!” She hopped out of the circle and made a beeline for her skirt. As she pulled it over her head, she said, “Thanks! I was afraid I’d be stuck in there until my boyfriend broke down the door.”
Hanna reared back. “Boyfriend? I hope you don’t mean Donovan.”
“No! Oh, yuck. Strike that thought from your brain.”
“Whew. I’m glad you’ve had the good sense to avoid him.”
“Well . . .” Michele cringed. “He actually found me. I was painting this trap for him. As soon as I had him contained, I was hoping to talk to you about how to neutralize him.”
Hanna’s brows rose. “Neutralize?”
“I don’t mean, kill. I meant neutralize his powers. Failing that, I just need to know how to get him to forget where I am and stop him from finding me again.”
“Oh.” Hanna wandered over to a folding chair and sat down.
She appeared deep in thought, so Michele didn’t interrupt. Hopefully she was coming up with a plan.
Eventually, she looked up. “How did he find you?”
“I don’t know. You found me. Could he have done it the same way?”
She chuckled. “I doubt it. Fayleen and I had to turn back time, break into a few DMVs to view highway camera footage, and well . . . It’s not important. I doubt he could have done what we did.”
“I don’t know what he can and can’t do anymore. He’s already surprised me by doing things I didn’t think possible. That’s why I need your help.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m scared, Hanna. And, if you weren’t such a powerful witch, I’d be scared for both of us.”
The high priestess hung her head. “I just pray he didn’t find the grail somehow.”
“The unholy grail? Is it lost again?”
“No.” Hanna placed a hand over her heart. “No, thank the Goddess. But we don’t know everyone who handled it when it was lost.”
“How long was it missing?”
; “Not very long. A week or so.”
“Do you think anyone would drink from that ugly thing?”
Hanna sighed. “Unless they knew what it was and what it could do, probably not. But the Stregheria may have had it for a while.”
Michele sat up straight. “The Italian witches?”
“Yes. They claim it belongs to them. Apparently it did back in the Middle Ages, but they lost the power to use it when one of their coven’s ancestors abused its power.”
“How did it come to The Kingsley witches?”
Hanna sighed. “It seems the Druids got a hold of it somehow. We’re not sure how, but it may have made its way to England during the Crusades. When they were afraid the location had been compromised, the supernatural coven went in search of a new group of highly principled, ethical witches.”
“And that’s when they found you,” Michele said.
Hanna smiled. “Not exactly. I was young when it came to us. Years later, I studied with the high priestess who was asked to protect it.”
“Did the grail make you a supernatural witch?”
“Yup. I don’t know how or why my high priestess chose me, but I’m glad she did. I feel like I’ve been able to make a few improvements and advances without the world noticing. That’s what the supernatural witches are supposed to do.”
“So, about Donovan . . .” Michele bit her lip, hoping Hanna had some kind of advice for her.
“Oh, Michele . . .” She pinched the bridge of her nose.
Michele waited. Maybe Hanna would come up with an idea if she just puzzled it out a little longer.
“First of all, get rid of this ward on the floor. Unless we know what he can do, it might be more dangerous to you than to him.”
Michele let out a long sigh. “I guess I should. It could trap Savern, Bast, or someone else.”
“Exactly.” Hanna rose and paced with her hands clasped behind her back. Michele gave her the quiet time needed to think of a solution.
At last Hanna stopped pacing and threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know. I just can’t think of anything right now. Let me go home and look through some of my books. If I come up with anything, I’ll call you.”
“I’m not staying at home right now.”
“Smart. Where will you be?”
“I’m at my boyfriend’s house. I don’t want to give out his name or address. I feel like I’m putting him in danger as it is.”
Hanna nodded. “And if Donovan knows you’re here, I wouldn’t put it past him to place some kind of listening spell on your shop.”
“Damn!” She hadn’t thought of that. Was nowhere safe?
Hanna reached into her pocket and produced some kind of round stone. She whispered some words over it. The language sounded ancient—perhaps some kind of pre-Latin.
“Here,” she said, handing her the geode.
Michele turned it over in her hand. One side looked like an ordinary rock, but the other was hollow and full of crystals.
“Keep this with you. Speak to the crystals in a normal voice—or even a whisper, and I’ll hear it. You won’t have to tell me where you are, either. It’ll act like a homing beacon.”
Michele studied the item. “Should we test it?”
“If you like.”
How about if I go out to the cash register?”
Hanna chuckled. “Well, it’s not much of a test if you tell me where you’re going.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to bother you later, unless it’s an emergency.”
Hanna placed her hands on Michele’s shoulders. “Trust me. It will work.”
Michele nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. I’ve never known any of your spells not to. When did you drink from the grail?”
Hanna let out a tinkling laugh. “You’re wondering if my supernatural powers are the reason my spells always work.” She shook her head. “You’d be surprised how much I had to learn even after the grail came to us.”
“Is it the same for you as for the rest of us? If you word a spell badly, can it backfire?”
She laughed in earnest. “Absolutely. In fact, they can get fucked up on a more massive scale. Talk to Fayleen sometime about turning a city upside-down.”
Michele covered her mouth and tried not to chuckle.
Chapter 10
Vic had made the most of his hour alone. He’d ordered some extra security equipment and called a buddy of his on the police force. It was clear that Michele didn’t feel safe no matter what he did, and even though that bruised his ego, he had to stuff it. Letting someone on the Daytona Beach P.D. know what was going on was a risk, but his friend would respect his wish to handle the situation himself, as long as he wasn’t breaking the law. And he wasn’t—so far.
Compromising his ethics was another matter, and he was still wrestling with that. He’d told a half-truth, leaving out the part about his being hired to protect Michele. His buddy Doyle couldn’t believe he was involved with one of the chicks from The Enchanted Broom. Well, tough. He’d expected some judgmental teasing, but if it kept the girls safe, whatever embarrassment he experienced would be worth it. A cruiser patrolling the area a little more often couldn’t hurt.
By that evening, he was fairly certain he’d done all he could do.
The Chart House Restaurant was filled with the savory smells and lively sounds of a busy Saturday night. Vic had two kinds of reservations and only one was for a table. The other kind had him glancing around the restaurant crowd. Michele had donned a dark-blue lacy dress that hugged her curves. Vic was aware of the attention she was receiving from the male patrons and tried to swallow the possessiveness that attacked from within.
Patrons dressed in business suits and business casual were seated at square tables covered with white linen tablecloths. They spoke in animated conversations.
Vic tried to tell himself that Donovan wouldn’t even be given a table here.
“Will you please relax?” Michele said. “He’s not here.”
“How can you tell?”
One side of her lip curled up. “Because he could never afford this place.”
Vic smiled and put an arm around her. He felt some of the tension drain from his neck and shoulders, but he didn’t want to let down his guard no matter how unlikely Donovan’s appearance might be. He was proud to show off his beautiful woman and didn’t want her jackass stalker to spoil it.
As they were escorted to their table for two in the back corner, she continued in a whisper, “We’re safe. He couldn’t have followed us.”
Vic cleared his throat, hoping she’d get the hint and say nothing that sounded like “crazy talk” in front of the hostess. Apparently she didn’t because she kept talking.
“He can glamour his face or become invisible, but I doubt he can camouflage a van in a beach city, and he couldn’t run fast enough to keep up with your car, or turn himself into a bird and fly over it.”
“Good thing,” Vic said. “I just got it washed.”
She chuckled as he held her chair for her. “And, with all the things I did this afternoon, we’ll be well protected for a while.”
When the hostess left them, Vic reached across the table and took Michele’s hand. “I wouldn’t talk about this here. Too public. I don’t want the men in white coats to come for us.”
Her mouth opened and shut. She frowned.
“I meant what I said, you know.”
She cocked her head. “What was that?”
“I won’t let him hurt you.” Vic glanced around the dimly lit area where they sat. “I know you don’t believe I can do that, but I say I can, and I will. With your knowledge of his habits and what he’s apt to do, I can formulate contingency plans. No matter what he tries, we’ll be ready for him.”
“For how long, Vic? I can’t let you do this forever.”
“Who said anything about forever?” He sat up when their waitress arrived and took their drink order.
* * * * *
As soon as the waitress left
, Michele voiced her question. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing so much for me? It’s not like you need to.”
Vic surrounded her folded hands with his. He took in a deep breath and let it out before he spoke. “I guess I can’t stand to see an innocent woman terrorized. Maybe I’m actually a nice guy who was raised with old-fashioned values. You told me you still believed some men like that exist. As I recall, you said you enjoyed the attention from one of them—me.”
Michele smiled and looked at their hands. “I do. I’m afraid I’m becoming used to it.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
She shrugged, wishing she knew.
“Does the idea of becoming used to me frighten you? There’s nothing to be afraid of. When this idiot is out of the way, if you want some space, I can back off.”
“No . . . that’s not it.” She gazed out the window. Anything to avoid his eyes. She could tell by his face and the tone of his voice that he was confused, and unfortunately, so was she.
“But what?”
“But so much togetherness, and now that we’re having sex, what if . . .”
Vic didn’t move his hands from hers. “What if what, Michele?”
She sat quietly and tried to form her thoughts. Emotions were hard to put into words tonight. His hands were so warm and safe, but she didn’t want to be smothered—and that went both ways. Moreover, how safe could he really keep her? And how much of her calm was a false sense of security?
“What if . . . What if our feelings are heightened because of the danger? Maybe we really don’t have anything in common other than keeping me out of a stalker’s clutches. Will we still feel the same after this is all over?” she asked. She glanced over to see his brow furrow.
Michele dropped her gaze and tried to come up with some plausible reason for her stumbling. “I’m just feeling a little guilty because you’re devoting so much time to me. I really can take care of myself. I like having you around, though.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Maybe I’m using you for sex.”
