Captivating the Witch

by Michele Hauf

  “Awesome. I happen to have some mad skills with the pots and pans.”

  “Is that so?” He waggled a brow as he forked in another steamy bite.

  “I like to try new things. I’ll have to look up a recipe for this online.”

  “I volunteer to be your taste tester.”

  “Deal.” She tilted her head onto his shoulder. “You know, I’d love to have a guy to cook for all the time.”

  Ed mocked a choke on his next bite. “Did you just say, in a roundabout way, you are looking to get married?”

  “Did I? Oh, no. I mean, someday. But no. I didn’t mean that about us.” She spooned in a bite of rice.

  Ed would love to have a woman cook for him. But marriage? Absolutely not. Well. Yes, someday. Maybe? Ah, who was he trying to fool?

  “I don’t think I’ll ever marry,” he said, casting his gaze beyond the dancers and across the park where a half-dozen young men tossed a Frisbee back and forth. “Never had much luck with women.”

  “Really? There’s always men.”

  “I prefer women,” he said, tilting his head to bump it softly against hers. “But thanks for offering me hope.” Then he laughed and folded the empty plate in half. “I have never discussed anything remotely domestic with a woman before. It’s usually...”

  “Wham, bam, thank you, mademoiselle?”

  “Uh...” Close, but he wasn’t going to reveal that to any woman he was interested in. Especially not a woman capable of retaliating with magic.

  “It’s okay. Like I said, I’m not in the market for marriage.”

  “Just following that family motto, eh?”

  “It does include more than romantic love. It could mean loving paella. Which I do. And going for walks with a handsome demon. Which I also love.”

  “All right, then, let’s continue the walk and talk. Where to?”

  “How about we check out the church behind us? I’ve heard it’s beautiful inside. Can you go inside?”

  “Of course I can. What? You think I’ll sizzle to ash if I encounter the holy? You don’t need to research demons to know that holy symbols are just that, Tamatha. A symbol. Belief is what holds all the power.”

  “True. But baptized vamps can’t touch the holy.”

  “So there are some exceptions.” He stood and offered his hand. “Come on. Let’s go see if this demon starts to sizzle.”

  * * *

  Ed stood before the stone statue of some pope flanked by two angels in the narthex of the Renaissance-style Saint Eustache Church, the largest church in the city. He did not feel as though his skin would begin to sizzle and flake off until he had been reduced to a heap of black ash at Tamatha’s feet.

  On the other hand, he did feel...odd.

  Never before had he been in a church or cathedral. He did not subscribe to religion. It seemed to be the root of war, greed, patriarchy and hatred among the human population. He preferred a spiritual approach to life, blessing the nature and earth he lived upon and giving thanks for his existence. All were equal and came from the same star stuff, after all. Yes, he was a fan of Carl Sagan.

  So while he hadn’t known what to expect when crossing the threshold into this holy structure, he had prepared to not be surprised at whatever may come. And right now he felt a weird compression against his skin. As if something were trying to intrude, move inside him.

  He shook his hands, hoping to fend off the feeling.

  “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Tamatha spun and cast him a beaming smile. Tonight she wore a peach dress with a lacy neckline that danced about her full breasts. Her hair was coiled in victory rolls on each side of her head and trailed down the middle of her back. She studied the massive stained glass window, which was surprisingly heart-shaped. “I do love stained glass.”

  Well, there. An opportunity to escape this infernal establishment and hopefully save face by not turning into a raging madman as he tried to shake off whatever it was pushing into him. If he thought about it, it was similar to the intrusion he’d felt in his office last night.

  “You’ve seen one church window, you’ve seen them all.” He clasped her hand and tugged her toward the entrance doors.

  “But we’ve hardly looked around. You’re starting to sizzle, aren’t you?” she asked as he pulled her outside into the night.

  “No, sweetness, I am not sizzling.” He tugged at his tie and assessed his composure. The intrusive feeling was gone. Whew! Maybe he would have started to sizzle? “I have stained glass windows at my place.”

  “You do?”

  “You’ll have to come over sometime if you admire stained glass. They are quite remarkable.”

  “That sounds like you’re suggesting another date.”

  When he nodded, she bounced on her toes. He liked her enthusiasm, yet he could never be sure if her excitement was that she got to spend more time with him or that she was gaining opportunity to research and study. Should it matter? It meant he got to spend time with her, and that was all right.

  “Tomorrow night,” he offered. “I’ll order in.”

  She kissed him, there in the shadow of the church’s sacred walls. Passersby strolled on the cobbled path between the church and park, not paying them any attention, or perhaps they were and Ed didn’t notice their reactions. Because he couldn’t focus on anything but Tamatha when they kissed. She may not have used witchcraft to get him to like her, but he truly did feel bewitched.

  And there was nothing whatsoever wrong with that.

  Chapter 8

  After pulling on a white light, Tamatha strolled the stacks in the demon room. Set into the far wall was a small iron door that led to the live and pickled specimens. A person had to bend over to pass through. And about the door flurried a constant blizzard of snow. She could feel the chill from here. She’d been in there a few times, but today she merely wanted to look up the corax demon.

  An entire wall of books focused solely on defining the various demon breeds loomed before her. A few crooked volumes straightened as she approached, and dust flew off the pages to sift through the air. Suppressing a sneeze, she reached for a volume labeled C that sat with its alphabetical compatriots. It was thicker than most, but not as thick as the S and, surprisingly, Z volumes.

  Back at the study table, where she’d left a steaming cup of peppermint tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits, she settled in and paged through until she found the corax entry. Rather short, but it did provide a few details.

  Tens of thousands of years old, the breed was originally entirely raven in form until they began mating with other species that had mastered human shape. Their evolution was swift and they quickly became a trusted entity among their kind for their ancient heritage yet progressive manner. The demon’s sigil is the line of raven feathers down their spinal column and their sense of taste is especially valuable for reading others.

  “They gain knowledge by consuming the hearts of those who hold such knowledge? Ugh.” She set the book on the table and pulled her legs up to clasp her arms about her ankles. “Ed eats hearts? That’s...”

  She couldn’t pronounce the vocation awful, because she had done it. Once. But if he murdered innocents merely to gain knowledge? Or did he consider it killing? Either way, it was awful. And it didn’t seem as if it were a part of his nature, that he needed to commit such an act to survive. Knowledge was an enhancement to one’s wisdom.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have looked you up,” she muttered. “Ed, the demon who looks like a gangster and has minions like an evil overlord, and yet...he can’t be. He’s very mannered and...his kisses.”

  She sighed and clasped the clear quartz crystal suspended around her neck. For clarity and truth.

  “Who are you, Edamite Thrash?”

  * * *

  He trusted Tamatha. He did. M
aybe. Hell, with another demon death he didn’t have time to waffle. But could he spring it on her? Tell her why he’d sought her in the first place? She had expressed exasperation over his avoidance of the subject. Certainly she wanted to know what he had to ask of her.

  But accepting that information could be difficult. Could a witch work against her own? Were they her own? Those decrepit monsters in the cemetery couldn’t be from the Light. Of course, he didn’t know for sure.

  One thing he did know: witches ran in tight circles, or rather, covens. All for one and one for all the cackling hags. Dread to those who went against one of them. Witch Number Two from his past had garnered much of her power from her two sisters and they in turn had met with their coven weekly. It made him shudder now to remember how easily she had seduced him into trusting her. Her dominatrix tease had fired his desires. He’d been crushed by his own lascivious curiosities.

  His phone rang and Tamatha’s profile displayed a female silhouette against a pastel square. He’d have to snap a pic next time he saw her. Trust her? Probably never. But he did need her and he did know how to play nice.

  “Sweetness,” he answered.

  “Aww, I like when you call me that. Cheers me up.”

  “You need cheering up?”

  “A little. I’ve a terrible backache from crouching over the floor all day on all fours. I hit a smelly spot in the demon room here at the Archives and discovered a stack of molding books. Had to scrub the floor but I think I salvaged most of the books.”

  “Would a back massage do the trick?”

  She cooed and Ed could feel her anticipation shiver up his neck in a pleasurable way. Yes, he wanted her here. Now. In his arms. At his mouth. Wrapped about his body and filling his senses with lemons.

  “Come over,” he said. “I’ll make dinner.”

  “I thought you didn’t cook?”

  “If you promise not to notice the containers in the garbage, I’ll pretend to plate the meals with such a flair you would never bother asking if a chef made it.”

  “Deal. I don’t know where you live.”

  He gave her the address to his place, not far from where his office was in the 10th, and the warning that she mustn’t be surprised at the building. It had been in the family for ages, and it had once belonged to a religious organization.

  Smirking, he hung up and glanced out his office window to the stained glass windows a few blocks away that curved along the wall in his penthouse apartment. From one of the windows, the archangel Michael pointed his sword directly at Ed. He always got a kick out of that one.

  He tried to keep his nose clean and avoid angels. Wisdom any demon would do well to follow.

  * * *

  The man’s place was fancy, yet the gorgeous gray-and-turquoise palette added a subtle tone. The main floor was open, and the kitchen was set off the living area and two steps up. Everything was tiled in gray marble. And the place was not square or rectangular—but circular. Not a straight wall in the place—at least, not on the main floor. He told her the bedroom and bathroom were up the open stairway that was railed with ultramodern steel cables.

  One half of the circle was walled along the kitchen; the other half, in the living area, emitted the setting sunlight in shards of myriad color from the stained glass windows that curved about that side. Once a former headquarters for a Catholic diocese in the nineteenth century, Ed had explained. Tamatha got a kick out of learning it had been in a demon family for half a century. The saints depicted in some of the windows must surely cringe whenever the current resident passed by.

  She wondered if he’d had to have the place unblessed. She had read how to do it once, but hadn’t ever thought it an important skill. So many strange yet wondrous facets to the man’s life.

  She could fall in love with a guy like Edamite Thrash if she didn’t think he was hiding something huge. Or that he killed. But if love weren’t in the cards, she wanted to have fun with him. And sex. Ribbed for her pleasure? Oh, mercy, she needed to further her studies on that.

  Two warm hands suddenly massaged her shoulders from behind, and he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “You like coq au vin?”

  “Love it. Smells delicious. You were right about this place being startling.”

  “It takes some getting used to, but I enjoy the colors streaming in more than focusing on the pictures depicted in the glass. Religion can be so theatrical, yes?”

  “I bet some long-dead church elders would roll over in their graves to learn who lived here now.”

  “I think I felt that group roll when I moved in. Had the place cleansed.”

  “Whoever did it performed a much better job than in your office.”

  Though she did sense a tendril of...something. It was almost like a sheen over her head, something shaded with darkness. Perhaps it was just Ed’s presence. The demonic inhabiting this former religious haven? That had to mess with the room’s aura.

  His hands worked down her spine to just below her bra strap and she cooed in pleasure. “Oh, yes, right there.”

  “Why does the Council have you doing the dirty work of crawling about on your hands and knees as a maid?”

  “I didn’t mind the cleanup work. And if I hadn’t done it, the mess would have sat for decades longer, surely. The Archives are ancient and I’m sure some books haven’t been touched for centuries. Goddess, that smells so good. I’m a lot hungrier than I realized.”

  He ended the all-too-short massage with another kiss to her cheek, then wandered into the kitchen. “Wine?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She sat on a stainless steel stool before the glass-topped kitchen counter, where he had placed two settings and poured her a goblet of red. He placed a plate of food before her, along with silverware, which reacted to her by straightening alongside the plate.

  “Really?” he said.

  “What can I say?” She lifted a fork and dived in without further explanation. If he were around her for any length of time, he’d get used to her OCD magic.

  The kitchen was a stainless steel and glass marvel. Tamatha felt as if she were sitting in a nouveau chef’s laboratory, tasting his wares. The meal had been premade and featured small servings à la high-tech cuisine, but man, how good was the side of caviar soaked in kir?

  It was weird to watch Ed eat with his half gloves on. She bet he took them off when he dined alone. Had he ever harmed anyone with his thorns? She stopped herself from asking, thinking to keep dinner light instead of veering toward research. Besides, the side glances he cast her and those tiny smiles during their conversation about the history of the building were enough to satisfy her. The shiny nubs at his temples didn’t bother her at all, though she did want to rub them again.

  To test his lust.

  And when she moaned over the grapefruit mousse, Ed gave her a raised eyebrow. Realizing she’d been imagining a lusty embrace instead of the food, Tamatha blushed and used the napkin to hide her foray. “So good,” she murmured. “My compliments to the chef, whoever that may be.”

  She finished the fruity mousse and set her plate in the dishwasher. She cleared Ed’s dishes as well, finding she liked stepping into the domestic role. Taking care of a man. At least, as much as he would allow it. She did know he was protective of himself and his surroundings. A closed man.

  When he was not making out with her.

  Her demon boyfriend? Yes, she could consider having him as a boyfriend. But if she went that far into the relationship, then there was always the family curse to consider. So she wouldn’t label him yet. For his own safety.

  She paced in the living room before the stained glass windows. He’d eaten without even tasting his food, she guessed. He was preoccupied. And she could guess with what. The same thing he’d had on his mind since that day he’d ordered his henchmen to bring her int
o the office.

  But what she was more curious about was his morals.

  It was time to get some answers from him. And maybe he’d pop the question he so wanted to ask her. For good or for ill, she wanted to hear it.

  Pushing her hair over a shoulder, she smoothed down the blue velvet skirt that flared out at her knees. Her heels—black with blue lace around the edges—clicked on the stone floor over to where Ed paced, and she stopped before him and took his hand.

  They both spoke at the same time.

  “Do you kill?” she asked.

  While he asked, “I need you to cast a spell. Kill? Tamatha? I thought we’d discussed this already.”

  “I know but—it wasn’t really a discussion.” She shrugged. “I looked up the corax demon. There was something about eating hearts...”

  “Ah, that little detail.”

  “Little? I think it’s a rather big detail myself.”

  “I suppose, but no. I do not kill. It is not necessary for my survival. My breed can gain knowledge by consuming the hearts of others, but people die every day in a big city like Paris. I just have to be there when it occurs. It’s not a difficult task. I don’t touch them. I tap into their heart. If I need it. Which isn’t often. Rare, even. I’m not making this sound very good, am I?”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. It sounded weird. Then again, who was she to waggle her finger in blame over eating a heart? She’d done it to maintain her immortality. Of course, she had done it only once.

  “What kind of knowledge is so important you would commit such a grave act?”

  “Information on local denizens. Or other species that may have invaded the city. It’s all a part of the keeping-the-peace thing.”

  “That you don’t want to elaborate on.”

  “It’s what I am, Tamatha. We eat knowledge. I was born that way. Can’t change it. Though trust me, I wanted to when I was a teenager. Teenage angst, you know. Even we demons have it.”

  “I can relate to having problems when I was younger. Though I can’t remember a time I’ve ever had angst about being a witch. Maybe knowing about how cruelly some treat my kind. I mean, witch burnings? What kind of history is that to grow up with?”