“May I have a word with Josselin alone, please?” Cain said.
Clelia glanced at Josselin, who gave her a nod.
“I’ll go check on the food,” she said, getting to her feet.
Both men stood as she made her way to the door. Passing the fireplace, she saw that the fire needed kindling. The thought to stoke it went through her mind and immediately the flames shot up high and hot. For a second, the act startled her, and then a sense of wonder filled her as she realized that she had just combusted a few logs with a mere thought.
She glanced back at the men, who watched her with expressionless faces. What would they make of her now that her art was no longer regressed? Would Cain still regard her as a potential enemy? Josselin gave her a very faint smile, motioning with his head toward the door, and she quietly left the room to go check on the food in the kitchen.
Izabell was fussing over lobsters grilling on the fire. From her short but friendly greeting, Clelia realized that she didn’t know anything about the events that had played off just a few hours earlier. Cain and Josselin probably wanted to keep it quiet. She wondered how they were going to explain the explosion that leveled Josselin’s house. Maybe Josselin could say he wanted it demolished. With Josselin and Cain’s powerful connections, they could get around the red tape; prove that it was an approved and controlled explosion. Given the house’s history, everyone would understand why he would have wanted something like that.
“Food’s ready,” Izabell announced.
“I’ll give you a hand,” Clelia said.
When the two women entered with platters of stir-fried vegetables, grilled lobster basted with garlic butter and sautéed potatoes, the men got to their feet again, their faces tight. Clelia looked sideways at Josselin. His brow was furrowed and his body tense. Wariness, combined with the emotional twist of the day, suddenly made her feel weak and tired. She saw a flicker of concern on Josselin’s face as she sat down too quickly, gripping the sides of the seat for support. She tried to look brave. This was about Josselin’s future, not about her.
Clelia didn’t miss the warning look Josselin gave Cain. When Izabell left the room, he said, “I think we should get to the point. The emotional stress is wearing her out.”
Clelia looked between the two men, frowning.
Cain nodded. “All right.” He turned to Clelia. “The fact that you’re Lupien’s daughter changes everything.”
Her insides clenched in fear. Would the fact that she had inherited bad genes warrant her elimination, regardless of whether she was trying to do what was right? Did Cain worry she’d twist at some stage, just because of who had fathered her?
Instead of asking the questions on her mind, she only managed to say, “How?”
“It means that you are much more powerful than what we ever thought,” Cain said.
Clelia started shaking. She clasped her hands together in her lap under the table. “I didn’t know he was my father,” she said defensively. “I didn’t put two and two together.”
“Neither did we,” Cain said, his voice strangely reassuring. “It means that you’re a very valuable asset.”
Clelia glanced at Josselin who gave her a small, tense smile.
“Cain, I don’t follow,” she said.
“I’d like it very much if you joined the team.”
Clelia’s mouth dropped open. “You mean Josselin’s team? The taskforce?” She looked at Josselin again. He seemed conflicted. “You’re not firing Josselin?” she said, needing reassurance that she understood correctly.
“No,” Cain said, “it was never my intention.”
“And bringing me on board was?”
Cain inclined his head. “Absolutely.”
“Why didn’t you say so from the beginning?” she said.
“As I mentioned,” Cain said patiently, “I first had to see which way you were going to turn.”
Up to then, Josselin had remained quiet, and Clelia turned in her chair to face him.
“What do you want, Josselin?” she asked softly.
He regarded her for a moment. “I’m not happy about putting you in danger.”
She could sense that there was more behind his words. “But?” she prompted.
Josselin shut his eyes briefly. When he looked at her again, it was with acceptance. “I’ll respect and support whatever you decide.”
Clelia understood the enormity of the offer. Could she even do it? Did she have the capacity to work in such a field?
“What would being part of the team entail?” she said, directing her question at Cain.
“It varies between missions. You’d take an oath to protect good against evil. I could lie to you and tell you some pretty fairytale about the honor and glory, but that’s not my style. As Josselin is well aware, it is, more than not, a dangerous job. The truth is that you’ll put your life on the line and use a forbidden art to fight for a greater cause. Ours is a secret organization. We don’t follow rules or laws. We protect our own. The financial compensation is good, of course. But when you take the oath, your time–at least the time you’re required to work–belongs to me.”
Clelia rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs. “It’s all very sudden. Can I think about it, discuss it with Josselin?”
“I’m leaving after dinner,” Cain said. “I’m afraid time is a luxury I can’t afford to give you. I have a meeting with the sponsors of the organization in a few hours and they want your answer.”
Josselin took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her palm. There was sympathy in his gaze, and regret, as if he was to blame.
“How would I enhance your team?” Clelia said.
“In any way you can,” Cain said. “Maya uses water when she must. Lann manipulates air. Your specialty will be fire. I understand how frustrating this must be for you, but I cannot give you more information without compromising the organization. I’m afraid if you come on board, it’s in good faith. It’s a little bit like taking a journey blindfolded. All you have to believe in, is what we stand and fight for.”
Clelia’s gaze was drawn to the fire burning in the fireplace. The new power she had first felt on the yacht had grown inside of her over the months and bloomed today. There was a knowledge deep inside of her that knew what she had to do. When she thought of her old life, it seemed purposeless. She could never go back to booking sightseeing tours, to killing the hours, days, and years. Yes, she knew what she had to do.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
Josselin closed his eyes briefly, as if he regretted her answer. Cain nodded approvingly.
“Good.” Cain turned to Josselin. “We look after our own. She’ll have protection, Josselin.”
“I know,” he said tightly.
“Your conflict is normal,” Cain said, “but maybe you’re still underestimating your wife’s strength and talent.”
Clelia could see from the set of Josselin’s jaw that he was heading for a confrontation with Cain, so she said quickly, “I think our dinner is getting cold. Shall I serve?”
“Thank you,” Cain said smoothly. “Now, let’s talk about the logistics.”
“I’ve already told Clelia that we’re relocating to New York as soon as possible,” Josselin said.
Clelia dished up for their guest.
“How do you feel about moving to America?” Cain said, taking the plate from her.
“Of course it will be hard, but Josselin said that we could take my animals and that Erwan could join us, if he wished.”
Cain adjusted his tie. “How would you like to stay in France?”
Clelia glanced at Josselin. “Is that even an option?”
Josselin leaned forward. “What are you suggesting, Cain?”
“The team is growing. Our missions are sporadic. I, myself, have decided it’s time to soak up some sun at my villa in Morocco and Lann has just bought an old monastery in South America that he plans to renovate. I was wondering if you’d prefer staying in France.”
He lifted his brow. “We could do with a base here.”
Clelia couldn’t help the excitement and hope that expanded in her chest. Without giving away her feelings in her voice, she said, “That’s something Josselin and I would have to discuss first.”
“Of course.” Cain nodded politely. “You can inform me of your decision later.”
* * * *
Cain didn’t delay his departure. He left shortly after dinner. Josselin saw him off by the door, Clelia huddled in the crook of his arm. He understood her need to see her grandfather, so as soon as he had closed the door, he turned her to him.
“I know there’s a lot to talk about,” he said, “but let me first take you to Erwan.”
“Thank you,” she said, her face showing her appreciation.
He took her hand and led her upstairs to the first floor, to the guest bedroom that Izabell had prepared. He could feel her excitement and tension in the way she clasped his hand, so he gave her a quick hug before knocking and opening the door.
Erwan sat up in the bed, a tray with chicken soup and lobster still balanced on his lap.
Josselin watched as his little witch hurried across the room to hug her grandfather, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“There now,” Erwan said, stroking her back. “All is well.”
She pulled away from him. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
Erwan chuckled. “No need to waste good energy on regrets. You have nothing to be sorry about. We’re all alive.”
She gave a happy sigh and Josselin saw the tremor that ran over her body.
“There’s so much to tell,” she said, touching the old man’s cheek, “and so much to hear.”
“Later,” Erwan said. “We have all the time in the world.”
Clelia released the steel grip with which she held him. “You must be tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”
He chuckled. “No patience, whatsoever. Yes, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
She kissed him on the head. “Good night. I’m not far. I don’t ever want to be far again,” she whispered.
Emotions washed over Josselin as he watched her. He could never make up for what she had suffered, but he’d sure as hell try. For years, he had been running from his past, and the fact that it didn’t haunt him any longer was all due to her. Peace dawned on him, watching her as she walked back to the door where he leaned in the frame, the smile on her face meant only for him.
He took her hand to draw her into the hallway and closed the door.
“I want to show you something,” he said.
She shot him a questioning glance as he pulled her back downstairs, through the reception hall and onto the terrace.
“Where are we going?” she said, but he only smiled at her.
He led her down the steps into what had once been the garden, onto the jetty that extended over the water. Placing her in front of him, he rested his head in her hair. One arm circled her waist while his other hand found her breast. He felt the peak harden for him and smiled with male pride.
“I want you to imagine how this place looked before it became ruined,” he said softly.
Her body didn’t stiffen or tense, so he continued, “I don’t want you to leave France if you don’t want to.”
He could feel the little jerk that vibrated through her.
“You mean ... we can stay?”
There was so much hope in her voice that his heart squeezed for how hard it had to have been for her to accept their relocation to New York.
He turned her to face him, because he needed to see her eyes, to read her reaction.
“Yes, Clelia,” he said, “we can stay, if that’s what you want.”
Her eyes widened for a second, and then contracted. “What about you? What about your home in New York?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “This is home, my little witch.”
She hugged him tightly. “Yes, Josselin, you came home.
Behind them, the lake shone in the light of the moon, reflecting the castle that was his past, and their future.
Epilogue
It was a small crowd consisting of Bono, Lann, Maya, Erwan, Cain, Josselin, and Clelia that gathered for Clelia’s inauguration into Cain’s organization. They had prepared the dining room of the castle for the occasion. Clelia faced Cain, who stood before them in a brilliant white suit, to take her oath.
“Do you promise to uphold our beliefs, to protect our own, and to fight for what we represent?” Cain said.
Clelia glanced over her shoulder at her audience. Josselin stared at her with such obvious desire that she flushed. She wore the dress he had bought for the celebration, a black silk creation with a low V neckline and back, narrow over her hips, flaring out around her feet. He wore a black suit with a silver tie that highlighted his eyes. If this wasn’t what Josselin wanted for her, she wouldn’t accept, but she saw only support and love in his eyes as he gave her a slight, encouraging nod.
Erwan stood to her left. She had never seen him in a suit before. Strangely, the navy double-breasted jacket and tailored pants suited him. He stood tall and erect, his smile unwavering.
Bono stared straight ahead, his cream linen jacket a striking contrast against his smooth, dark skin. When she caught his eye, he winked.
Lann looked indifferent, as usual, but he had brought her a priceless gift–an ancient handwritten book on the magic of fire starting from his private collection. The Russian had chosen a pinstriped suit and open-neck shirt for the occasion, looking like a million dollars. His hair was braided down his back, but instead of making him look feminine, it added to his understated masculine power.
Clelia’s eyes finally rested on Maya. Just looking at her made one gasp. Red organza was crossed over her breasts, the bands caught at her waist and scrunched in horizontal layers to form a body-hugging skirt. Her hip was cocked, her stance one of sexual allure. Clelia couldn’t help the thought that formed in her mind. It was a harmless thought, with no real damage intended, so the flame that set the hem of the red dress alight was just a small one. It scorched the fabric only minimally, just enough to ruin the creation.
Maya jumped, raising her skirt, but the flames were already dead. She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes. Clelia shrugged and gave her a mischievous smile. Slowly, Maya’s face relaxed into an amused expression before her red lips curved.
“Clelia,” Cain said, “what is your answer?”
Clelia turned to face Cain. She felt Josselin’s fingers brush over hers.
“Yes, I do.”
“And do you swear not to use your art, except for the good of mankind?”
Josselin squeezed her hand.
“I do.”
Cain smiled. “Welcome to our team.” He came forward to congratulate her and to kiss her hand, and then Clelia was surrounded by everyone who bid her welcome to the small, exclusive group.
Josselin hugged her tight. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in her ear. “You look marvelous. And I can’t wait to undress you.”
Various parts of her body hidden under her dress grew hot, but she barely had time to register the sensation before a rivulet of cold liquid ran down her spine. Spinning around, she saw Maya, her hand hovering above the glasses of champagne.
Maya chuckled. “Need to cool down?”
“You won’t,” Clelia said, the laughter sounding in her voice.
Cain put his arm around Maya. “Maya,” he said sternly, “you know better than that. You took an oath not to use your art unless it was for the good of mankind.”
Maya pouted. “She started it.” She took a glass of champagne from the table and lifted it to Clelia. “To mixed breeds.”
Clelia smiled. She belonged.
THE END
About the Author
Charmaine Pauls was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. She obtained a master’s degree in Communication at the University of Potchestroom, and followed a diverse career path in journalism, public relations, advertising, communic
ations, photography, graphic design, and brand marketing. Her writing has always been an integral part of her professions.
After relocating to France with her French husband, she fulfilled her passion to write creatively full-time. Charmaine has published five novels since 2011, as well as several short stories and articles.
When she is not writing, she likes to travel, read, and rescue cats. Charmaine currently lives in Chile with her husband and children. Their household is a linguistic mélange of Afrikaans, English, French and Spanish.
Books by Charmaine Pauls:
Between Fire & Ice
The Winemaker
Second Best
The Astronomer
Short stories by Charmaine Pauls:
A Miracle for Christmas
The Ice Hotel Wedding Test
The Grayton Christmas Supper Contest
Author website:
www.charmainepauls.com
Coming in May 2015
Aeromancist, The Beginning
(A novella, a prelude to Book 2 of the Seven Forbidden Arts Series)
Passion always comes with a price.
All that Russian aeromancist Lann Dréan wants is to enjoy a month of peace in the privately owned convent in Santiago he is turning into a home. When an American literature student walks into his library of ancient books, his holiday intentions change. The untouchable Lann is inexplicably enraptured. For all his famed control, he can’t stay away from Katherine White.
Gifted with a hunted talent and a price on his head, the best Lann can offer Kat are thirty days of unrivalled passion before returning to his paranormal crime taskforce in New York. If Kat consents to his terms, she will agree to walk away on Day Thirty. Forever. But his uncontainable desire comes with an unforeseen price.
Pyromancist Page 31
