Warmongers and Wands

by Dunbar, Debra

  “It’s a worst-case scenario idea,” I assured him. “If I can’t free you from the circle, maybe I can banish you, then just summon you again.”

  He reached out and placed a hand on my thigh, above the cast. “Summoning is no easy magic, Bronwyn. You’ve told me that you and your sisters do not practice the art, so there is no one to mentor you, no one to assist you in the ritual. There is a good chance if you banish me, that you will try unsuccessfully for decades to summon me back.”

  “I know.” My chest hurt at the thought. “But if I can’t manage to free you, then at least by banishing, you would no longer be trapped here. Surely being returned to hell is a better life than being stuck on less than an acre of woods.”

  “No, because then I would not be with you.” His hand caressed my leg, his thumb making little circles on my inner thigh. “Trapped here, I will hopefully still be able to see you, to have you with me. I would rather remain here then be free in hell without you.”

  Could I do that? Live here with him on the side of a mountain within werewolf territory? With no electricity, no cell service, no place to park a car or truck. Each morning I’d need to hike up the side of a mountain and drive into town, pick up my truck and trailer, and work, only to do it all again the next day. Maybe if I reduced my hours to accommodate the commute. Maybe if we came to some sort of agreement with the werewolves where I didn’t feel like I was one full moon away from attack. Maybe we could make this work until I managed to find a way to free Hadur.

  I wondered if Diebin would get along with a cat.

  “Then it’s a plan,” I told him. “I’ll figure out a way to free you, and in the meantime, I’ll stay here off and on. Or maybe move in full time if things work out between us. I need you to be honest, though. If you decide this relationship isn’t working, and you want to call it quits, I don’t want you to think you need to keep going through the motions because otherwise you’ll be stuck here alone. If I can’t free you and you want to call it quits, then I’ll figure out a way to banish you back to hell. I’ll always help you, even if we don’t work out romantically.”

  “You, my witch, are very silly. I’m an old demon. I know my mind. I want you. I want to partner with you, to bond with you, to be with you for all eternity. And your pledge to selflessly assist me makes me want you even more.”

  My breath caught as he moved his hand higher. “We might want to delay the displays of mutual affection for later. Like, when I’m sure Cassie isn’t going to burst through the door later. So hold that thought. I’m going to do some research and try to keep my mind away from what you could be doing with your fingers and other body parts.”

  He bent down, scooting my dress up practically to my hips. Then he placed a lingering kiss on my inner thigh and stood.

  Ugh. I was so not going to be concentrating on anything but the feel of his lips on my leg, the brush of his beard against my thigh. And that was a problem, because these diaries with their outdated language and swoopy cursive handwriting required a lot of concentration.

  “These are the diaries and spell books?” Hadur looked at the books, then picked up the bag Sylvie had left. Before I had a chance to stop him, he’d upended it, spilling the contents across the table.

  Oh my. Sylvie…well, my sister had outdone herself this time.

  Hadur stared at the items. “Your sisters are very strange.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What is this for?”

  I turned bright red. “It’s…uh, it’s nipple clamps. And don’t ask me how I know that. Trust me, it’s not from personal experience.”

  He pulled off his shirt and affixed them to each nipple while I stared with a mixture of admiration and horror.

  “Ow. These things hurt,” he complained.

  “They hurt worse when you take them off,” I told him, wincing as he yanked one from his nipple.

  The demon sucked in a breath. “Does Lucien know about these? I think they need them in the punishment sections of hell.”

  “I’m pretty sure Sylvie gave Cassie and Lucien a set as some sort of ‘you’ve got a boyfriend’ gift.”

  He reached over and picked something else up from the table, the one nipple clamp still attached, the other dangling from the chain. “And this?”

  I winced. “Anal plug.”

  “Are you sure your sister isn’t a demon?”

  “There are days when I ponder that very question.”

  And there we were, me sitting in a chair with my dress hiked up to just shy of my coochie, Hadur standing over me wearing one nipple clamp and holding a turquoise anal plug when Cassie burst through the door.

  We all froze. My sister slapped a hand over her eyes.

  “I did not just see that. Nope. Did not see that.”

  I wrestled my dress back down while Hadur removed the nipple clamp and put them and the anal plug back in the bag.

  “All clear,” I announced.

  Cassie peeked between her fingers, then let out a relieved sigh. “Okay. I talked to Dallas—actually I threatened Dallas. I did a lot of yelling while he acted as though he had no idea what I was talking about. So, he knows that we know, and he also knows that I’m going to bring all of hell down on his furry ass if he so much as looks at you funny.”

  Maybe not all of hell, but two demons. And witches. And whatever residents of Accident were fed up with the werewolves.

  “Good. Now get out of here so we can get back to anal plugs and nipple clamps,” I told her.

  Cassie backed away. “Leaving! Leaving now! As long as you’re sure you’ll be okay, that is. There’s a flare gun over by the portable potty. Send up a signal if you need us.”

  And by the time they got here, we’d have either taken care of the situation ourselves, or we’d be dead.

  “We’re fine,” I told her, with more hope than assurance in my voice. “We’re fine. Go. Stop worrying.”

  “Okay, okay. And if you get attacked by werewolves, go after them with the nipple clamps and the anal plug. That’s bound to scare them all away.”

  The funny thing was, she was probably right.

  Chapter 12

  Hadur

  I lurked while Bronwyn read, trying to find something to do that wouldn’t distract her. Although I really wanted to distract her.

  Those sisters of hers had nearly sent me over the edge. Maybe it was because I was a war demon. Maybe it was because I’d spent over two hundred years completely alone in the forest. Either way, all the chaos, the noise, the witch-energy circling around the cabin…it set my hair on edge, made me want to burn down the mountain or explode something.

  Or make them all fight.

  There were some unresolved issues between these witches, and as a war demon I hated unresolved issues. Air out the grievances, get physical if necessary (and it was always necessary when it came to humans), then hopefully resume with a cleaner, healthier relationship. But it wasn’t my place to do that. Well, it was my place, but I hadn’t been officially assigned this task, and while I’d never been averse to a little side job in the past, these were Bronwyn’s siblings. A small nudge was the most I’d do. For now, anyway.

  Even she had secrets that would fester if they remained buried. Her eldest sister had anger and resentment, although of all seven, she seemed the most open about letting her feelings have a voice. Or a fist. That was probably somewhat due to Lucien’s influence. I didn’t like the demon, but I’d be willing to admit he had his skills—and he was clearly dedicated to his witch.

  The others…they had their own burdens, which would lighten considerably if only they shared them. But again—it wasn’t my place to interfere in Bronwyn’s family. Well, beyond a nudge.

  Thankfully Bronwyn managed get the eldest sister to leave my house. Lucien knew he wasn’t welcome, but after his one visit, I knew he’d decide protocol be damned when it came to being with his witch. If Cassie stayed, Lucien would be back, prowling around the perimeter of my circle, camping out i
f necessary. And if the sisters set my hair on edge, Lucien made me want to do more than burn down the mountain.

  But they were gone, and finally there was peace in my home once more. Just me and Bronwyn. Now, if only I could keep my hands off her while she read.

  “This is interesting.” She looked up from the book she was reading and pointed to the genealogy chart. “There are no journals from Adelaide Perkins, but there is one from her elder sister, Celesta. I’m guessing Adelaide was probably between sixteen and twenty from your description of her. She was twenty-six when she passed away.”

  “That might have been why she didn’t return,” I said, although when I thought about it, six to ten years was plenty of time to research a spell, or at the very least come back and tell me she was working on it.

  “I think she didn’t come back because she was afraid.” Bronwyn looked up at me. “According to Celesta, Adelaide was very weak for a witch. That might have been sibling rivalry talking, but I really do think Adelaide wasn’t a significant force in the Perkins family during that time. Her Aunt Matilda was head witch and running the town, and there was an Aunt Larkspur who was a very powerful second. Adelaide and Celesta’s mother, Serenity, was a very weak third.”

  “How many cousins were there?” I leaned over the chart, looking at the tiny handwriting on the section she was pointing to.

  “A lot. Matilda had four sons at the time of the journal I’m reading, and Larkspur had a daughter and two sons.” She shook her head. “Male offspring of witches are unusual, so that’s really odd. Male witches don’t have magic. There are some very rare exceptions to that, but even those witches aren’t as powerful as those born female.”

  “So, the line would have gone from Matilda to her sister’s daughters—either Larkspur’s, or Celesta, or Adelaide.”

  “Cousin Marina wasn’t well. I’m thinking she might have had the same illness that eventually killed Adelaide because according to the chart, she died a year before her cousin.”

  “Leaving Celesta to carry on the family name,” I said.

  “Yes, which is one of the reasons I have her diaries.” She held up the book. “We try to keep everything now, but some witches didn’t keep journals, just spell books. In the past, a lot of journals were lost or destroyed, but there was always special care taken with the records of those who eventually took over as head witch of the town.”

  “So, did Celesta say anything in her diary about summoning a demon?” I asked. “The magical energy of the summoning circle was the same as Adelaide’s, so it must have been a relative. Plus, I’m assuming your ancestors are the only witches in the area?”

  “There’s no rule that says we have to be the only witches in Accident,” she told me. “In fact, Temperance put up the wards in hopes of this being a safe haven primarily for witches. Few escaped the burning times, so Accident instead became a sanctuary for any supernatural being who wanted to live free. We’ve just never had other witches come. There aren’t many left in the world.”

  So, it probably was one of her family that had summoned me. “Do you think it might have been Celesta?”

  “She’s got nothing in her journal so far to indicate that her magical studies might have been going in that direction. I’m not sure if she would have come right out and admitted it, though.”

  “Because there’s something shameful about summoning demons?” I scowled at the thought.

  “No, because you’re a war demon. Which meant whoever summoned you had some sort of violent conflict in mind. We’ve never been a family of witches that deals with demons, so if one of my ancestors went to the enormous effort to find out how to summon you, then they would have had a particular purpose in mind—something very specific they wanted you to do.”

  “So, you’re reading the diaries to find motive?” I guessed. “To see if someone wanted a person or a group of people to either go to war or to find death at another’s hand?”

  I doubted they were wanting me to bring buried conflict to a head, like a demon family counselor. No, Bronwyn was right. When witches summoned a war demon, it was usually because they had death in mind.

  “Yes, and so far, all I’m finding is a bunch of family intrigue.” She pulled a napkin over, uncapped the marker, and began to write. “Matilda was making noise about a second marriage after her husband’s death, and Larkspur was worried that union might yield a daughter and ruin her and her daughter’s chances to be head witch. Marina and Celesta hated each other. Plus, there was some serious discussion about whether to oust the fairies or not. Pretty much like the discussion over whether to oust the werewolves or not today.”

  “So, Larkspur, Marina, and Celesta all had motive.” I counted off on my fingers. “And Matilda, if she wanted demon back-up in getting rid of the fairies.”

  “Adelaide had a boyfriend that dumped her,” Bronwyn added. “She might have done a revenge summoning.”

  “But your family talents don’t involve summoning. That seems like a whole lot of work to go to just to get back at a boyfriend.”

  “Speaking as a man who probably has never been dumped,” she commented wryly. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, my friend.”

  “Understood. But looking back, I don’t think Adelaide summoned me. Yes, she was right there by the circle, but she seemed a bit alarmed to see me. And she never returned.”

  “Maybe she was alarmed because the ritual actually worked,” Bronwyn countered. “Adelaide wasn’t a powerful witch. She could have been doing the magical equivalent of a Hail Mary and been astounded when you actually showed up. Then faced with you, she might have decided she didn’t hate her ex-boyfriend all that much and changed her mind.”

  “And didn’t bother to send me back to hell?” I asked.

  Bronwyn shrugged. “Maybe she couldn’t figure that ritual out. Maybe she tried and never got it to work. Like I said, she wasn’t all that powerful.”

  “Okay, we’ll add Adelaide to the list, but I still don’t think it was her.”

  “If I was a betting woman, my money would be on Matilda.” Bronwyn picked up a book bound in red leather. “Which is my next read. If I can find out who summoned you, then I don’t have to look through hundreds of spell books to find the ritual and the research notes. But honestly, these journals are annoying the crap out of me, so if I can’t find out by the time I read Matilda’s, then I’m diving into the spell books.”

  I held out a hand. “Let me help. I’ll take one, you take the other. Then we can both read spell books.”

  She hesitated. “These are the journals of my witch ancestors. I don’t think non-family should be reading them. I mean, you might find out that incredibly secret apple jelly recipe, or that my great-great-great grandmother cheated on her husband with a satyr.”

  “Give me that.” I snatched the book from her hands and got to work.

  Three hours later, I wished I could go back in time and drag this Matilda down to hell. I’m pretty sure she was there already. I’d need to ask Lucien to check for her and maybe give her a little extra punishment because she certainly deserved it. The woman was horribly cruel to her sons. I was pretty sure she’d killed her husband. And I had a suspicion that she’d been involved in the illness that had eventually taken Marina’s life.

  Her daughter’s death had driven Larkspur into a deep depression. She’d withdrawn from town affairs. She refused to do all but the most basic magic. From Matilda’s gleeful entries, her sister had become practically a hermit—and no threat at all to her rule. Matilda didn’t see Adelaide as a threat and was only slightly wary about Celesta. Her youngest sister barely registered on her radar. Her final diaries were mainly about her ongoing issues with the fairies and her determination to have a daughter and her suspicions that she’d been somehow cursed. Three husbands after her first and she still only had the four sons. From the vaguely worded entries, I realized pregnancy wasn’t an issue. She most likely was doing away with any child that wasn’t the gender she wanted.


  I summarized what I’d read to Bronwyn, telling her that I thought Matilda might have been the summoner. She certainly had the power. But if I was here to smash any attempt by her sister or her niece to take over, then why hadn’t I been released? If I was meant to handle the issue with the fairies, why continue to struggle and not use me? Why just leave me here?

  “Nope.” Bronwyn held a leather-bound book aloft. “It was Celesta. She doesn’t come right out and say it, but I’m pretty sure she was the one who summoned you.”

  “To take out Matilda? Then why not release me and give me my task?” I asked.

  “For one, because Adelaide saw you. Celesta adored her younger sister. I think Adelaide told her about the demon in the woods, and Celesta felt ashamed, like summoning a demon to murder her aunt was something that would tarnish her in Adelaide’s eyes forever. I’m really reading between the lines here, but I think she told Adelaide she’d take care of the situation. That’s why Adelaide never came back or worked to free you. In her mind, she’d done what she promised—she went to her more powerful older sister and Celesta promised to handle it.”

  “Then what? She couldn’t figure out how to banish me and just left me here?”

  Bronwyn paged through the book. “I think originally she meant to keep you as a sort of contingency plan in case Matilda went after her. I mean, Marina was dead. Larkspur was consumed by grief. Year after year, Matilda wasn’t having any daughters. Celesta always downplayed her abilities and power, but judging from her diary, she never really felt safe.”

  I looked down at the genealogy chart. “She lived and ran Accident for thirty years after Matilda’s death. That’s thirty years she could have freed me or returned me to hell. Instead she died, and any knowledge of my existence here died with her.”

  “Except for the werewolves, who obviously didn’t realize what you were or the circumstances of your entrapment here,” Bronwyn commented.