“If you want to spend some of your quality time,” he put ‘quality time’ in air quotes’, which Sixt found adorable, “buying me clothes, when you know that I can manufacture clothing from air, it’s not for me to object.”
That was mulled over for less than two seconds before she was grinning at the thought. “That might be fun. Let’s do it tomorrow.”
He shrugged. “The last time I checked our contract your wish was my command. For four hours a day.”
Her smile fell. “Plus being here at night. You’re staying here tonight. Right?”
“If you say so.” He angled his head to the side ever so subtly. “Why do you care about that? If you’re not going to see me or talk to me, what difference does it make?”
She looked down at her wine glass. “Just does.”
“The nightmare? Does that happen often?”
She shrugged, but gave away nothing useful. “So, your granddaughter…” Sixt began, but then trailed off. “Are you married? Mated? Single? What?”
“I’m not mated.”
Sixt nodded. “Divorced?”
He looked the witch over for a few seconds, deciding whether he’d share or not. He decided it wouldn’t hurt for her to know the full extent of the damage she’d done.
“Rosie’s grandmother was a witch. She summoned me and I fell in love.” Sixt stopped eating and appeared to be holding her breath. “She took her life because I wasn’t able to be faithful.”
He paused to let the full impact of that penetrate.
Sixt had just realized that he had an even bigger grievance against her. Not only had she cursed him with an addiction, she was also to blame, apparently, for the demise of the demon’s beloved.
At length she spoke quietly. “So you raised a child on your own?”
Deliverance had been so certain that he was in the catbird seat of righteousness that the full frontal punch of truth almost knocked the wind out of him. He wasn’t perfectly innocent. It seemed that innocence was in short supply.
He cleared his throat after studying the grain in the table for a bit. “No. I… It’s hard for me to say this. Now that I know my daughter it’s unimaginable. But I abandoned her. At the time I was sick with grief, but that’s not a reason. It’s not even a good excuse.”
“But she forgave you.”
Deliverance raised his eyes. The witch gave every appearance of being genuinely concerned. She looked like she actually cared whether he’d been forgiven or not, but he knew better than most that appearances can be deceiving. It would take more than a look of sympathy to gain his trust. Even if he was motivated to give it. In the case at hand, he was not motivated. In fact, he was committed to arranging a memorable revenge, one that other demons would be talking about for some time.
It would take more than a show of warmth, a beautiful body, sparkling blue eyes, and hair that looked like fire when she sat near the window with sun coming in to dissuade him from his plan. It would take more than the appeal of a witch, who might be a virgin, but had managed her reality masterfully enough to accumulate notable wealth, power, self-assuredness, and a familiar of unknown origins. It would take more than a witch with a sense of humor, who’d developed a taste for fifties sit coms and hair bands.
Indeed, her ever-growing list of desirable attributes made him detest her all the more.
It was clear to Sixt that she and her brother, who was the mastermind and deserving of all the credit, had made something of a splash in the world of witches. It seemed that others, also fearful enough to remain hidden throughout the industrial revolution, were ready to make contact with their kind. It was too premature to use the word community, but hope in the shape of a dream for the future was beginning to form, together and separately, in the hearts and minds of the last two Lichterkettens.
Sixt fantasized about being able to meet for camaraderie along with an exchange of experiences, successes, failures, recipes, and the like.
Harm fantasized about love, though he’d never express it in those terms. He talked about the potential of finding a mate in ways that sometimes made Sixt cringe. But she suspected his unseemly regard for the fairer sex was a cover carefully constructed to hide a true romantic.
Refinement of the list had revealed that six unattached females would be attending. True to her word, Sixt invited the other five to stay at her chalet, which had, before she’d acquired it, won design awards and been featured in Architectural Digest.
As she stared at the names on the list she wondered why she didn’t take advantage of her vacation houses more often. The Aspen house could only be described as a palatial log house. The wood, inside and out, was stained in a semi-transparent cinnamon color. The windows were majestic featuring breathtaking views from every room. The ceilings were luxuriously high which added to the plush ambience of a modern day royal hunting lodge. Oddly enough, the décor that was most striking with Rockies mountain homes was Middle Eastern tribal color.
Priceless Heriz rugs on red backgrounds sat under plush brown leather furniture. Collectors had also found pieces of rugs that would have been museum-quality of they were whole, and turned them into floor and sofa pillows. The total effect was stunning.
Harm came into her study on a rainy Sunday morning, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, and sat down.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Hey. What are you doing?”
“Looking at our list. You’ll be happy to know that all six of the unattached ladies have accepted my invitation to stay at the house.” Harm’s eyes lit from within as he blew across the top of his cup. “But before you get too excited, remember that we know nothing about them except that they are female and traveling alone. We don’t know age, race, or even if they’re leaving significant others behind.”
“It’s a start.”
“Maybe. How’s your cooking?”
“What?”
“Cooking. I mean you’re good-looking enough. Even I can acknowledge that. You have an okay personality when you’re not impersonating men behaving badly.”
“Aw. Thanks.”
“That’s a start, as you say, but it’s not enough to make you the most eligible bachelor alive.”
“I have money.”
She rolled her eyes. “We all have money, Harm.”
“Why do you say that? Our parents…”
She cut him off before he could get started on that again. “I know. I know. Our parents were in love with each other and idealism. Times have changed.”
“Times? Or us?”
“What’s the difference?”
He sighed and took a sip of coffee. “Don’t ruin it.”
Sixt softened at the delicate plea he made. Her brother had been just as alone as she’d been. He deserved some good things in his life.
“I’m not going to ruin it. I’m going to help you be as attractive as you can be.”
“What does that have to do with cooking?”
“I can’t tell you why, exactly, but there’s just nothing sexier than a man who knows his way around a kitchen. A guy in an apron flipping pancakes and frying bacon melts a girl’s heart.”
“Don’t you have a cook there?”
“Since I’m not there much, I just keep a live-in caretaker. I’m hiring temp staff for cooking, cleaning, etcetera, etcetera. But the point isn’t whether or not we could hire it down. The point is that the aroma of bacon cooking will get people out of bed and moving toward the kitchen like Eloi responding to the Morlocks’ dinner bell.” He looked slightly confused, like he was trying to place the reference. “H.G. Wells. Time Machine.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I know. I don’t get it either. Girly girls who work on cars. Macho boys who cook. Contradictions are sexy. When the lovely hopefuls arrive in the kitchen to see that none other than you, the handsome and available man witch is cooking, they’ll be charmed. ‘Coffee?’ you’ll say with a smile as they sit down on one of the stools at the island so that they can wa
tch your every move, anticipating breakfast and getting to know you better.”
“Lovely hopefuls?” He arched an eyebrow as he chuckled. “You don’t sound like a CEO. You sound like a matchmaker extraordinaire.”
“Indeed. You haven’t answered the question.”
“About cooking?” Harm shook his head. “I barely know the difference between bisque and barbeque.”
“Well, then, we have a week to get you ready. There’s a chef school, right here in Manhattan, prepared to give you a five day intensive.”
“What? No.”
“Yes. You want a mate or not?”
“You sure that’s necessary?”
“Positive. It’s not that different from potions. It’s just food instead of herbs.”
He brightened. “Why can’t I just use magic to prepare food?”
“Because, Harm.” She sounded exasperated. “Anybody can do that! Well, any witch. Not just anybody can cook food using mundane methods.”
“I don’t understand why that would make me more appealing.”
“I know. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“So you think everything depends on me learning to cook.”
“Of course not. I’m just trying to enhance your chances of a favorable outcome. It’s called hedging your bets.”
“I know what it’s called.”
“Well, then let’s talk about the concept. You know you have options. When it comes to potential mates, I mean. There’s a rather enormous pool of humans, billions of them.”
Harm gaped. “You’re not serious.”
“I was. Are you that prejudiced?”
“It’s not about that as much as it’s about the balance of power.”
Sixt let that sink in. “I see what you mean. Still, I’m sure others have faced that issue and found ways to work around it.”
“Maybe, but there’s the risk. Humans are a problem for us. Remember?”
“If you were to find the right human, there’d be no risk.”
“That ‘if’ seems like a bottomless hole where anything could happen.”
Rolling her shoulders into a back wing stretch, Sixt said, “Just saying. Food for thought.”
“When are we leaving?”
“Friday morning. I have a local party planner working on coordinating lodging, transportation, and catering.”
“And you’re not worried?”
She got up for a more full body stretch and smiled at Harm. “You worry more than an old woman. If she sees or hears anything that gives her pause, it will immediately vanish from her thoughts like steam rising from a boiling pot.”
“You’re going to have to teach me how you do that. Seems like you’ve gotten really good at hiding.” She pointed to the framed cover of Forbes on the wall, of herself wearing a Versace suit, standing on the tarmac in front of her company’s private jet. “The best way is in plain sight. It’s easier to confuse or manipulate the memories of humans than to create foolproof lives.”
“Who would have guessed the baby of the family would be the smart one?”
“You’re going to make me blush.”
He shook his head. “Somehow I just don’t see you as the humble sort.”
Sixt found shopping with Deliverance to be every bit as entertaining as she’d imagined it would be. As they entered Outside Voices, Deliverance’s eyes scanned the sea of outfits and gear for cold weather. His eyes ran over everything they could see on the ground level floor and up to the mezzanine accessible by escalator.
“Have you ever been in this kind of store before?” she asked.
“Not that I remember.”
“Well, what do you know? I’m going to give the demon who’s seen everything a new experience.”
He looked at her open, hopeful face, the roses that had formed in her cheeks from the chilly wind outside on the sidewalk. “Why would people who live in the city need all this stuff?”
“Because they go on vacation and, when they get there, they want to be prepared with the latest and greatest.” She led the way to the ski and board section. “Are you athletic?” she asked, stopping in front of a rack of board pants.
“I suppose. Are you an athletic supporter?”
The demon watched her lips part in an eye-catching way just before she erupted in peals of laughter that drew attention, first to the laughing woman, then to the beautiful demon.
“I should warn you,” he said. “If you bring attention to me, you may have a hard time shaking those caught in the net of my charisma.”
She scoffed. “Oh, for pete’s sake. You need to get over yourself.” She waved her hand and all the shoppers who’d been staring at Deliverance returned to their business as if they’d never seen him.
“How did you…?”
“You underestimate me. You’re not the only one with a few tricks up your doeskin pants.”
He looked down. “Doeskin pants are good for the cold.”
She shook her head. “No. They are not. They will chafe your thighs and,” she looked downward, “other things in cold dry places.”
He frowned. “Chafing. That’s not good, is it?”
She chuckled. “If you don’t know, you’ve led a charmed life.”
“I stay away from cold places. I’m a fire demon.”
She stepped close enough so that they were almost touching. “That’s where fire is most needed.”
As the top of her head came to the bottom of his chin, he hooded his eyes to look down at her and lowered his voice when he said, “No touching.” He allowed the tone of that admonishment to sound as if there might be wiggle room and knew by the brief flare of heat in her eyes that his message was interpreted as he planned.
Half an hour later they had two armloads of clothes to try on. When she stopped at the dressing room entrance, he held the door open for her.
“No. You, ah, try on and then come out and let me see.”
“Why not just come in?”
“There’s not enough room for both of us.”
He looked behind him. “Sure there is.”
She looked around and felt a little embarrassed, like she was trying to have a conversation with Latka. “It’s just, um, not done.”
“Not done,” he repeated drily like the concept was stupid, which, if examined closely, it was. When he made no move to close the door, she relented. After looking around, she ducked into the smallish room and took a seat on the built-in bench.
He stood with his arms crossed, waiting for something. “Now what?”
“You try on clothes. What would you like to try first? Keep in mind that everything is going to look best over jeans. And that’s what guys wear in Aspen. Jeans.”
She held up a colorful Scandinavian print sweater.
He smiled and shook his head no in a definitive way that left no doubt he wouldn’t be wearing that sweater. She held up a fleece-lined, blood-red Henley.
Though it took her brain a couple of seconds to catch up, she supposed that the sweater that had been in her hand a moment before it was being modeled by the demon, had disappeared and reformed by a magic that was stronger than hers. She looked at him with respect. “Impressive.”
“What? This?”
For an instant Deliverance was standing in front of her in the full glory of unclothed sex demon. Just as suddenly he was wearing the dark red Henley over a pair of jeans with a divinely perfect fit.
It went so fast she questioned whether or not she’d actually seen what she had seen. But the demon’s nudity was burned into her brain, even after such brief exposure, in a way that convinced her it hadn’t been imagination.
He cocked his head. “If you’re impressed with changing clothes, it tells me you really suffered from babe-in-the-woods naivete when you decided to take a demon prisoner.” He dropped his chin and intended to lock her gaze to his, but his concentration slipped when her tongue peeked out to dampen her bottom lip. His eyes dropped to her mouth and lingered there a second too long. �
�Would you like to change your mind? Let me go?”
When the words fell from his lips, he realized that it had sounded like teasing. Or flirting! He hadn’t intended that.
He was careful to omit the fact that a change of heart would not include forgiving the debt owed him. He’d made a one-time offer of ending the contract without retribution. She hadn’t chosen to accept. So an entirely different and very one-sided deal was on the table.
On Friday morning, the car was waiting when Sixt and Harm stepped off the elevator and into her building lobby. Sixt was a little resentful that her own doorman smiled at Harm first, but she wouldn’t blame Harm for it. He couldn’t help the innate charisma that had turned her doorman into a fan.
The car made good time to the hangar, even if they did go by way of the bridge. Sixt maintained an non-negotiable anti-tunnel policy.
They settled into custom Chesterfield chairs on the WC6 jet. They delivered Sixt’s favorite tea and a copy of the Wall Street Journal printed on actual paper. It was a luxury in which she shamelessly indulged. Tactile habits die hard with people who read ink on paper for centuries.
When the flight attendant was out of earshot Harm said, “So your demon is meeting us there?”
She lowered the paper. “First, he’s not my demon. Second. Yes.”
“How does that work?”
“I don’t know really. I tried to give him the address. He laughed at me and disappeared.”
“I think there’s a lot about demons we don’t know.” Harm glanced out the window as they started to taxi. “Maybe we’re missing an opportunity here. You should find out everything you can about who they really are and what they can really do.”
Her eyes slanted toward her brother. “Why?” Her question dripped with suspicion. Harm shrugged. “As if we weren’t all educated on the dangers of summoning demons? You’re insane if you think you’re going to find a way to harness that power.”
“You did.”
“This is not the same thing. I’m not summoning. He found me. Or his granddaughter did.”
Harm smiled. “And you aren’t afraid he’ll say thank you very much and then reduce you to a pile of ashes? Or turn you into a pillar of salt? Or make you a gum ball on the street?” He brightened. “Or a urinal at the bus station!”
Deliverance (Knights of Black Swan Book 12) Page 11
