“Maybe they’re not some ancient, magical artifact,” I suggest as my confidence in Nick’s books—many so old I’m afraid to handle them—starts to flag. I set one down gently on the desk.
Nick turns away from the bookcase, a question on his face.
I sit down on the edge of the desk. “I mean, maybe they’re just cards that John owns. Cards he bought somewhere or had made. Like…just something he wanted.”
“John?” Nick says, his brow furrowing even more.
“John Englebrecht,” I elaborate. “Our dad?”
Nick’s lips part slightly in an “ahh” gesture.
“You didn’t know that was his name? The name he used when he lived on Earth?”
Nick looks stunned. “No. He never told me…” For a moment he seems to be at war with his own bitterness. Our dad has never gone easy on him. “Seems so…mundane. He never gave me cards, either. Never gave me anything, in fact.”
I press my lips together. “Well, they’re technically yours. You’re his heir—”
He shakes his head vehemently. “He gave them to you. They’re yours, Vivian.”
He picks the cards up off the desk’s blotter. “And maybe you’re right. We could be overthinking this. They might not be an artifact like the Morning Star. They could just be his cards.”
Nick shuffles them, cutting a finger on them as I had. Frowning, he stops doing that and turns a card over. Like me, he gets the Devil card. Then again. And again.
“They do that,” I explain. “That’s all they do.”
Ignoring the books, he clears a spot on the desk and retrieves a second chair from the corner of the room. We spend the next hour sitting on opposite sides of the desk, turning cards over, but they just keep doing that thing where they show the same card over and over again no matter what pattern we use.
“Try thinking of someone you know,” he suggests.
I do. I think of Sebastian as we lay out a three-card draw.
All the cards come out Death.
Then Nick does it. I know he’s thinking about Morgana because all the cards turn up the High Priestess.
Nick finally stops. “Maybe this is all they do.”
“Point out the obvious? How exactly does that protect me?” I ask, recalling our father’s words.
He glances up, his eyes shifting to me in concern
I shrug to cover my awkwardness and give him a condensed version of what’s been going on. “I mean…the people after me,” I concluded, meaning Tupoc and the Toltecs, “…they aren’t going to just sit there patiently while I do a reading for them to find out who they really are and get spiritually awakened. How does any of this help me?”
I wait for him to explode with concern, but he surprises me. “Yeah,” he responds instead, tapping his temple. He suddenly looks very wise. Were he wearing glasses, he would resemble our father. “We’re missing something here.”
He picks the stack of cards up and drops them. They suddenly shift across the table toward me.
“Interesting,” he says. He picks them up again and moves them closer to himself.
They shift across the blotter toward me again, this time making a fan of all Devils.
“Wow,” I say. “That’s new.” I reach for the fan of cards and they shift back into a neat stack. I lower my hand. “Okay. I don’t know what that means.”
“Move them again,” Nick says.
“I don’t know how!”
“Make a fan,” he commands. “Imagine it.”
I do.
It takes a second like there’s a glitch, but the cards do shift again, fanning out.
Nick nods. “It’s a start.”
There’s a knock on the study door. It’s Henry.
“We’re ready to begin the esbat, Nick,” he whispers.
36
UPSTAIRS, I find the Children of Endor have cleared the common room of all furniture and rolled the throw carpet back to reveal a complex ideogram etched into the wooden floor. Though more complex than the ward on the wall of Confessions, it’s essentially the same symbol—a series of lesser wards surrounding the big kahuna, an elaborately carved symbol of the House of Lucifer. Perhaps a hundred black candles fill the room with somber light. Black. The color of spellcraft and conjuring.
The Children of Endor have gathered, but this time they are all completely—and unashamedly—naked. They pad barefoot across the floor, joining hands as they form a circle around the candles.
Amber and Henry stand to one side like sentinels.
Nick treats all this as if it’s perfectly natural. “I’ll change and be right down,” he tells the twins with an amiable smile and then turns to me. “Would you like to change, as well, Viv?”
I don’t know what to say. I have no idea what he means by that. Change into something or change out of everything?
Sensing my hesitation, he takes my hand and leads me up a flight of stairs to his bedroom, which I quickly learn is remarkably mundane. No black bed sheets or goat-headed pentacles on the walls or anything. It’s very homey and comfortable in a post-Victorian type of way.
“Do I have to be naked?” I ask at last. If it was just him, I’d probably be okay with that. But I’m not big on group nudity.
“You can be if you want,” he explains, “but it’s not a requirement.”
There is a huge walk-in closet against one wall that he throws open. I notice it’s full of expensive-looking suits.
“You have changed,” I mutter.
He glances over a shoulder. “What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
I watch him change into a black silk suit for the esbat. He eschews a shirt and simply shrugs the matching jacket over his bare chest so that when he turns to glance at me, freeing his hair from the man-bun, I’m virtually speechless at the change in him. In the black suit and long blond hair, he looks incredible—like some dark, malevolent elf prince from a fairy story not destined to end well for anyone involved. I don’t know why I ever doubted he could do the job of reigning Lucifer.
“What happened to your hair?” I ask because it’s been bothering me all along.
“Oh.” He brushes the silky, shoulder-length hair out of his eyes. It glitters like a pale gold curtain over one eye, Veronica Lake-style. “Did a big spell. Got blowback.”
“You got long hair out of it?” I gape, nearly laughing.
“Continuously growing long hair,” he corrects me with a biting smile that suggests he doesn’t enjoy the extra grooming, which is just like Nick. “I cut it. It grows back overnight. I just get tired of cutting it every single morning.” He shrugs self-consciously.
I’ve lost count of the ways Nick’s life has gone sideways. I’m about to ask him the specifics of his longhair blowback when he pulls a long black dress from the closet. It’s a bit glittery and he seems to realize this. He drops it on his bed and reaches in again, this time pulling a slim red trapeze dress from the depths. It’s not flashy. Simple, short, but with very long bell sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. The moment I lay my eyes on it, I love it. It’s so incredibly kitschy in a 1970’s sex kitten kind of way.
“You like?” he asks.
“I like.” I’m already half out of my clothes right there in front of him so I can put it on.
Minutes later, we are descending the stairs to the common room. Nick has graciously offered me his arm as if he is escorting me to the prom, and as we make it to the bottom of the staircase, I really do feel like a princess. The coven lifts their heads collectively, following us as we approach. Their eyes sparkle like cats, and, as we step into the circle through the narrow opening left for us, they begin to sing that wordless dirge to celebrate the impromptu esbat. The sound of their voices makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Nick looks at me and offers me his hand. I take it. I can feel the charge between us.
The song ends and the twins call the four corners of the circle before going to their knees before us and obedi
ently bowing their heads. Soon, their singing changes, becoming a chant in a language I don’t recognize.
Their voices are beautiful, almost surreal, and the soft sound of the ancient language seems to charge the air around us. I can smell the magic gathering within the circle. It smells like electricity and rain. Hell, I can almost see it as it intensifies, lifting our hair up off our shoulders with its sheer force. Nick looks like he’s glowing.
“Feel it?” Nick asks me, our hands still linked.
“Yes.” It takes me a moment to realize our lips haven’t moved. We are speaking to each other entirely with our minds.
I look down at the twins, suddenly, incredibly, curious. Who are they?
He tells me.
I gape. I can’t believe their parents are such huge celebrities.
Before I can ask anything else, the energy in the room seems to redouble. It feels like a thousand hands are caressing me, but not in some sexual way. Rather, it’s a warm, comforting feeling. As the coven’s singing increases, I feel better. I feel good. I stand there, amidst our worshipers, bathing in what feels like angelic song. It feels like love. And it’s wrapped around me, keeping me safe from all harm.
“It’s the well,” Nick explains aloud. “The well of power.”
“I don’t understand.”
He lays a hand flat to his chest. “We have limited power. Or that’s what I’ve learned from the library downstairs. Those of the Lucifer line, like all Old Ones, are natural channelers. We can absorb the power of others through the act of worship. With a coven of dedicated followers acting as our well of power, we can be virtually invincible.”
All this is new to me, but I can feel it’s true. I feel that in my bones.
I look around at all the bowed heads surrounding us. There is power there, but I can also feel it in him. In Nick. Like a battery, he’s absorbed a great deal of his worshipers’ power. I turn to him and say, “Will you hold me?”
He slides his arms around me, holding me against his suit. The warmth and power and love increases. The feeling of family hits me as it never has before and nearly buckles my knees. I’ve never felt so loved. It’s an incredibly addictive feeling.
“This can last,” he tells me, his voice brushing softly against my ear as his arms tighten around me. His voice is strangely sleepy. I know he’s feeling what I feel—this incredible rush of goodness and love.
“How?” I need to know!
“Ceremony helps. But so does having brides.”
At that moment, Amber and Henry look up and smile serenely before getting to their feet. As they join us in our little huddle, I feel their power, their worship, their love, surrounding us. It increases the good feeling swirling around us. I don’t even need to ask him what a “bride” is. I know innately what that is. And I know I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.
Nick lets go and steps back so the twins can embrace me freely. I turn to him because I don’t want to lose him. But he hasn’t gone far. Someone has placed a chair in the space where we first entered the circle. He sits down in it as if it’s a throne. He looks elegant and vaguely threatening. He’s brought the Devil’s Tarot with him and he sets the cads on the floor at this feet. Then he raises both hands and clenches them into fists, one over the other. The Morning Star burns into view in his hands, and, seconds after that, his wings shush open like long shadows behind him.
It throws me a moment. He’s so beautiful.
Then the twins are back, embracing me front and back. I love the soft, warm feel of their satiny skin. They’re like big kittens as they stroke my face and over my body, murmuring soft words of love and devotion in my ear. I find myself touching them, delighting in the way they purr against me.
Henry scoots down and slides his warm hand up the inside of my thigh under the dress. Amber is whispering little endearments in my ear and trailing her lips over my cheek and down the slope of my throat. She stops as she reaches my cleavage and lifts her head, looking at me with such devotion I feel devastated by it.
I don’t want her to stop. I raise my hand and cradle her face, drawing her close. She kisses me—sweetly, gently. She tastes so good I plunge my tongue into her mouth. I’ve never really been into girls. No, seriously. But I like Amber. I like the way she feels under my fingers. She feels like home.
Henry is feeling left out. He has curled his toned young body around me, his hand still under my hem as he works his way to the juncture of my thigh. The moment he touches me…there…I stiffen and let out a gasp.
“Let us love you, Princess,” Amber entreats me, and I can’t help myself. I love them both so much as they sigh and slither over me, working in tangent like a primitive tribal dance of desire. Amber kisses my mouth, then my throat, and then moves downward, finally sucking a hard nipple into her mouth right through the thin material of the dress Nick has loaned me. Meanwhile, Henry has dropped to his knees and pushed the fabric up my legs so he can kiss the juncture of my thighs.
He glances up at me briefly, begging for access. I scissor my legs apart for him, and he, clutching my hips, kisses me right there just as he might my mouth. His tongue sweeps over my sweet center and I close my eyes and arch my back as he enters me a little ways. Were it not for Amber’s support, I might fall to the floor.
Soon enough, the twins start working me from two different ends. Licking, kissing, sucking—until I can feel the pressure of my orgasm building. The coven’s song increases. The pressure increases with it. The twins suck harder, pushing me toward release. My heart ramps up and my hands clench and unclench at my sides as my body jerks and dances for them. Seconds later, my body explodes in an all-over shudder, and I hear the coven’s song fall silent.
Opening my eyes, I see the Devil’s Tarot hanging over the three of us in a circular pattern. The shining metal cards are levitating just beneath the ceiling and moving slowly in a whirling, fan-like motion. I turn my head side to side, admiring them. It’s absolutely surreal. Everyone in the room is now watching them, including Nick, who looks impressed with my trick.
I can feel the strangely magnetic pull between myself and the cards. It’s as if we’re connected in some arcane way. Raising a hand up in front of my face, I spread my fingers wide. That causes the cards to drift apart a few inches. I move my hand to the left, and the cards drift that way. Then I move my hand in the opposite direction and they follow. Swirling my fingers causes them to move faster…then faster still.
I’ve been using the cards the wrong way all along. I don’t think they’re supposed to predict anything.
I feel a flush of power burning through me. The coven, this place, the cards…it’s amazingly potent energy. I want to test a theory, so I shift my hand suddenly to the right.
The cards fly in that direction, spinning like a deadly metal dervish. They slice right through a metal standing lamp as it’s made of papier-mache, then hit a painted portrait of Anton LeVay on the wall. The cards cut easily through the portrait and into the wall beyond. They don’t stop until they hit the studs. And when I make a come-hither gesture, they tear a huge chunk out of the wall and knock the portrait to the floor as they return to a neat stack on the floor at my feet.
37
EVEN THOUGH Nick wants me to stay the weekend, I decide to drive back to Philly as soon as possible. I need to check on Sebastian. And even though I’ve loved spending time with Nick and his coven, I’m nervous about leaving my friends alone too long with all the dark stuff coalescing around me.
Nick senses something is wrong as he walks me to back to my jeep.
“What you said before…about being in over your head…”
I cut him off as we reach the jeep. “I know. You want to help.”
“So let me.”
I look at his dear, sweet face. His concern for me is etched across it. He’s saved me before, but where does that end? He’s been my guardian devil for so long. But I want to stand up on my own now. I don’t want to keep running to Nick Englebrecht for p
rotection. That’s not the witch—the woman—I want to be.
“I can’t,” I finally confess. “I have to do this on my own. Understand?”
It takes him a moment to cave. “I think so. But there’s no shame in asking for help. And I care about you, Viv…”
I put a hand on his arm. To my surprise, he looks near tears. I think he can sense some of the things to come—some of the things I have seen. Our Vulcan mind-meld is probably responsible for that. But that’s not all of it. I’ll never be free of him, you see. We’re bound together in our darkness in a way few people are.
To lighten the mood, I take the cards out of my hoodie pocket. “I have these, remember? They’re pretty badass.”
He nods, but I can see the deep concern brewing in his storm-grey eyes. “I can send a few members of the coven back with you—at least until you gather some brides of your own and expand your well of power. I know Amber and Henry will go.”
“Thanks, Nick,” I tell him truthfully, but I think I have that covered.” I think of Mac. I’m surprised to find I miss him so much. “I’ve already begun that process.”
He tilts his head slightly. “Is he cute? Can I meet him?”
“No!” I laugh, terrified he’ll steal him away from me.
We spend the next ten minutes talking and giggling about Mac. I’m buoyed to see how much my relationship with the detective pleases Nick. I’m even happier to be able to laugh over a love interest with my half-brother. Somehow, we have carved the jealousy and pettiness out of our relationship. We’ve completely rewritten it.
Before I go, he hugs me. “If you need me, you need only call me. Or even call on me.”
“I know,” I tell him. “I’ll summon you up if I need you.”
That gets another round of laughter out of us.
I get into the jeep and Nick scoots down to put his hand inside the window.
I take it. “I’ve enjoyed my time with your coven. And with you. I like this thing we have.”
To the Devil a Daughter Page 16
