by Michele Hauf
“Is Ed’s family involved with Les Douze?”
“Why do you ask?”
CJ shrugged. “It’s no coincidence you and Ed have been brought together. Your grandmother is one of Les Douze. That would lead me to suspect one of Ed’s relatives could have been one of the accusing demons.”
“Really?”
“It makes weird sense on the greater scale of the universal explanation of things. You two were drawn together for a reason. Maybe the universe is pushing you toward that. I have a bad feeling about this, Tamatha. Sounds like you and Ed might be tied together in a manner that’s not necessarily going to result in good news for the two of you. One of you is not going to make it out of this alive.”
“That’s quite a feeling.”
“It’s extreme. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t guess at things. I am not psychic, nor do I portend futures. But I maintain my belief that Ed is not good for you.”
“He’s not a mafia king. And you said you were going to reserve judgment.”
“Does it matter? I’m only concerned what your involvement with him could bring. Tamatha, I care about you. Both Vika and I do. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m a big girl and a powerful witch.”
“You are. On the same level as I am.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would. You’re too humble about your skills. You sent that imp back into the book like that.”
“It was just an imp.”
“Not many witches would have an expulsion spell to hand and be able to react so quickly. If you won’t accept my help, you must at the very least keep me apprised of the situation.”
“Trust me, I will. And it’s not that I don’t want your help, CJ. I’m just not sure yet what help I require. And if you did help, that would require you work alongside Ed, so there is that.”
“There is that,” he agreed. “But if this gets out of hand, innocents could be harmed.”
“We both understand that, which is why I’ve been ignoring my work today and focusing on this.”
“Consider this your work,” he said. “Organizing dusty old grimoires can wait. I had better put on another pot of tea. You drink whiskey at all?”
She shook her head and laughed. “I’m not much for alcohol, only the occasional glass of wine. Though I wouldn’t refuse croissants if the doorman heads out on break later.”
“You got it. So can I ask? How did you and Thrash get together in the first place?”
“We bumped into one another in the alley and I bound him with a spell. Then he sent his minions after me because he thought I was the most powerful witch in Paris.”
Certainly’s brow rose measurably.
“I know. And he knew. But...you know.”
He smirked again. “I guess I do. Talk to you later. Uh, the warlock stuff is down there.” He pointed to a particularly dark corner of the room. “Do protect yourself with a white light before touching any of the volumes. And if you can turn off the OCD magic, that would be wise.”
“Thanks, CJ.”
“Promise me you won’t try to contact Arius without my coming along?”
She shrugged. “If she’s in Paris, I’ll let you know.”
Finishing her tea first, Tamatha then approached the dark corner and knelt before the lowest shelf. The books smelled musty and of something rotted. Shadows and fear, perhaps.
Shaking out her shoulders, she closed her eyes and drew up a white light, imagining it spread from the crown of her head and down over her body until it tucked under her toes. There was no way to control her OCD magic. She’d hope for the best.
When she opened her eyes a pulsing green glow had manifested around the shelf of books. She tapped the spine of a red leather volume, but it stopped glowing. She moved on to the next. The blue-bound volume didn’t inspire her and it also stopped glowing. The third spine of scuffed brown leather sent a chill up her arm when she touched it. The glow burst so that she cringed back to avoid any residual magic.
“This is the one.”
She tugged it out and carried it back to the table, opening it to a random page. The page revealed a sketch of a smiling woman with black hair tugged back in a bun and a prominent nose. She looked positively puritan. In elaborate calligraphy, the name scribed beneath the sketch was Arius Pumpelché.
A green glow again emanated from within the pages and a faint scent of smoke teased the air. The image turned up its head and looked at Tamatha. She quickly slammed the volume shut.
“Shit.”
A scurry of shivers raced over her skin and she rubbed her upper arms. Muttering a reinforcement spell, she hardened the white light and formed a virtual shell about her body. It was invisible and she could easily move, but she felt the heavy weight of it against her skin.
Better encumbered by protection than not.
Pacing before the table, she summoned her courage and again opened the book. A drop of black ink that she hadn’t previously noticed dribbled across the page of tiny scrawls...and began to write.
That wasn’t unusual for the magical volumes she had seen in the Archives. But what was unusual was the message: “You’ve found me. And now I have found you.”
Chapter 17
Ed’s mother, Sophie, was always elated to hear from him. They talked perhaps three or four times a year. Last year she had disappeared with her lover Colin Sauveterre, who was Ed and Kir’s father. There had been a big stink in pack Valoir right around the time Colin had hooked up with Sophie (before Ed had been born). Kir had grown up believing his father had left the pack because of another woman. A demoness. So Kir had always hated demons.
But that wasn’t the real story.
Kir had only recently learned that Colin had been forced to leave the pack after Kir and Blyss’s mother, Madeline, had an affair with the pack principal. All Colin had wanted was love. And he had found it with Sophie months after leaving the pack and his wife.
“So there,” Ed had wanted to say to his brother. But he had not because he valued what little relationship he had with Kir.
And he valued the connection he had with his mother. Sophie had become addicted to V—drinking vampire blood straight from their veins to get a high from the human blood rushing within—and had over the years grown distant. Now she reassured Ed she was clean and she and Colin were starting anew. But she needed to stay out of Paris. Sophie was a wanted demon. The enforcement team Kir had formerly headed while in pack Valoir had wanted to deport Sophie to Daemonia for her crimes against vampires, but Kir had helped her to escape that fate before he himself had been banished. Should she return to Paris? Pack Valoir would go after her and exile her immediately.
“Your grandfather?” Sophie said, after he’d explained to her about the twelve zombie witches and the deaths of the demons he suspected were related to their enslaved ancestors. “His name was Rascon.”
“And a surname?”
“That was just it, Ed. I’m sorry. But I do recall some of the others in the Libre denizen that accused The Twelve. Let me think a bit and give you a call back, yes?”
“That would be helpful, Mom. If I can track down their relations, I might be able to prevent more deaths.”
“You’re always so good, Ed. You get a bad rap from your werewolf brother. But I know, in my heart, you do nothing for yourself and everything for others.”
He smirked and tapped the back of the phone with a finger. Good ole Mom. He did try. But sometimes it felt as though he were pushing against a wall of hot lava. Impossible to stop.
“How are you, son? You mentioned a witch was helping you with this. Is she someone special to you?”
“Mom,” he drawled.
“Oh, so she is.” A teasingly accusatory tone, if there ever was one. He’d not told her
about Witch Number Two attempting to enslave him. Some things a man shouldn’t tell his mother.
“I should go,” he said. “I’ve got this mess to deal with.”
“Of course. You don’t like to talk about yourself. So humble. But you watch out for yourself, son. If zombie witches are going after Rascon’s relations, then you are a target.”
He hadn’t considered that until now. But if he was a target, then so was his mom. It seemed Les Douze were operating strictly in Paris. With hope, they would stay contained to the cemeteries and their peripheries and away from his mother.
“I will, Mom. Tell Colin I said hello. You two take care of one another. Au revoir.”
He hung up as a knock at his door sounded. He eyed the door, unable to see through it, but certainly he detected that luscious lemon scent on the other side. He rushed to open the door and pulled Tamatha in to give her a hug and kiss her deeply.
“Wow, someone’s happy to see me.”
“You are a bright beacon, witch. You change the air when you’re near me, you know that?”
She splayed both hands open near her shoulders. “No magic, I promise.”
“You’ve bewitched me with your beauty, kindness and heart. That’s a special magic.”
“You are a charmer, Edamite Thrash.”
She tapped his chest—he wore no shirt—and kissed him over the heart. “This design is growing darker. Maybe it’s related to the demon killings?”
“I won’t know until it’s fully formed. You hungry? I ordered in. Got vichyssoise warming on the stove.”
“I’ll get the wine!”
* * *
After the supper dishes had been tucked in the dishwasher, Ed led Tamatha to the couch with a fresh bottle of wine in hand and two goblets. He sat next to her, kissing her first before testing the Zinfandel. “That’s bitter.”
“I like it,” she offered. “It’s dark and mysterious. Like you.”
“I feel my mysteries have been revealed to you in the course of the days we’ve gotten to know one another. I have nothing left to hide.”
“Nor do I. Oh, but, Ed.” She set the goblet on the coffee table. “I was talking to Certainly this afternoon. He suggested that the two of us may have been brought together for a reason. He thinks it could be one of your relatives who was one of the accusing demons.”
“We are on the same page. My grandfather may have been one of the accusers. I didn’t mention it to you because I wasn’t sure. But if you’ve the list of the witches’ accusers?”
“I do, but I assume these were the human aliases the demons used.” She tugged out her cell phone and brought up the list she had copied from the textbook. “Check it out.”
He took the phone and scrolled through the list. “Rascon.” He handed her the phone. “They’re not aliases. That was my grandfather’s name. I confirmed it with my mom before you arrived. This is weird.” He ran his hands over his temples, resting his palms over his horn nubs. “I don’t get it. How could we have possibly been drawn together?”
“I think Arius is very powerful. I’m not sure she was capable of placing the two of us in that alley the first night we met, or if she is even aware of our association, but...”
He twisted a look at her. “She?” he insisted.
“Yes, the warlock is a she. And...she knows about me. She left me a message in one of the books I was looking through for answers.”
He turned a gaping question on her.
“It was written in ink as I watched. Something like ‘I’ve found you now.’”
“Hell. Maybe she’s the one I’ve sensed trying to spy on me?”
“It could be. I’ve been reinforcing my white light to superstrong ever since. Oh, and I’ve to reinforce your protective wards, as well. I brought supplies today.”
“Great. But really? A female warlock?”
Tamatha shrugged. “Not so uncommon. But I didn’t learn much about her. There was only a short entry about her. Warlock since 1754 because of necromancy. Banished from the mortal realm. No family history. Not even a skills-and-magics list. CJ said she was banished to Daemonia and should still be there. So if she’s here in the mortal realm, that means she’s escaped exile, which should be impossible for the average witch. But for a warlock, well, I’m sure it’s very close to impossible. Even CJ wasn’t able to leave Daemonia on his own. His brother, TJ, had to rescue him.”
She rubbed her palms up and down her arms. “I’m worried, Ed. I’m not sure my magic will be enough to protect me against a warlock. Or to protect you.”
“You don’t need to protect me, sweetness.” He hugged her against his chest and kissed the crown of her head. “I won’t let her hurt you. And you’ve got your white light.”
“Right, but to protect myself from a warlock? I’m not sure. So I’ve called in backups. Actually, it just occurred to me to do so on the way here.”
“Certainly Jones?”
“I’ll bring him in if and when we learn it is actually Arius who is behind all this. For now I think I can get the help I need from Verity Van Velde and Libby Saint-Charles. They’re equally as skilled as I am. As a threesome we should be able to track Arius, figure out where she is. They should be here soon.”
“Here?” Ed stood and looked about nervously. “Why did you invite them to my place?”
“Well, it’s where I am, and it’s bigger than my pied-à-terre, and— Are you upset?”
“No, I just...” He exhaled, his shoulders dropping. “I’m not sure.”
“Are you afraid of getting girl cooties in your man cave?”
“I don’t think it’s so much the girl cooties as—”
“Witch cooties?”
He shrugged and winced, offering his assent to her assumption.
She stood before him and stroked his jaw. “Aw, poor alpha demon is going to have his cave invaded by a bunch of witches and he’s not sure he can handle it. You are so precious.”
“Tamatha.”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t tease. But I promise none of them will cause you harm.”
“I can look after myself.”
“I know you can. But allowing a semicoven of witches into your home has got to be difficult.”
“I haven’t had much time to process—”
In the kitchen a phone rang. Tamatha rushed to get her purse. “That’s mine!”
She said hello to her mother. “It’s not late. Only ten. I’m glad you called. There’s a situation here in Paris. Yes. Er... I’m going to put you on speaker, Mom. I want Ed to hear this, too.” She set the phone on the counter, and Ed sidled up onto a stool next to her.
“Ed?” her mother said. “A new lover, darling?”
“Yes. Ed, this is my mother, Petrina Bellerose. Mom, say hi to Ed.”
“Bonjour, Ed. Are you taking care of my daughter?”
Tamatha fluttered him a wink and she was pretty sure he blushed.
“Uh, yes?”
“He doesn’t sound very sure of himself. How long have you been dating this one, Tam?”
“Not long. We’re still discovering one another.” She clasped his hand and he pulled it up to kiss. “But he’s great. I want him to listen because what I have to tell you involves the both of us in a weird twist of fate.”
“Oh, I adore twists of fate. Especially the weird ones. Go on.”
Her mother was entirely too cheerful. Tamatha did not want to tell her what she had to, but she could use Petrina’s advice. “It’s about Grandma Lysia.”
“How so, Tam?”
“Do you remember anything about Grandma right before she was burned? Like her friends and allies. Was she associated with any demons?”
“Her lover was a demon. I don’t recall his name, but I know it’s scribbled somewhere
in one of Mom’s diaries. Why do you ask?”
“Her lover was a demon? So, could he have been one of the demons who accused her?”
“No, the accusers were humans. I was there. I saw them standing at the fore before the vicious crowd. Utterly common humans.”
“Mom, I believe they were demons who had taken corporeal form in human bodies. You know it can be difficult to spot such demons unless you know what you are looking for. And even then.”
“Yes, that’s true. Hmm... I was quite young at the time. And in such a state. My mother was to be burned as entertainment for those stupid humans.”
Tamatha sometimes forgot the horrors her mother had experienced. She couldn’t imagine watching Petrina being marched to the fagots. “Could Grandma’s lover have turned against her?”
“Oh, Tam, I don’t know. Again, I was young and wasn’t overly interested in my mother’s love affairs. If it were true, such betrayal would have created a terrible curse— Oh.”
Tamatha got the same thought as her mother. She slapped a palm over the tattoo on her biceps. The Bellerose women had been cursed in love since the time of Lysia Bellerose. Could it have been because her lover had sent her to the pyre to be burned alive?
“Are you sure he was a demon?” Petrina pressed.
“No, not until I can get her lover’s name and check to see if it’s on the list. I’ve traced the records in some books in the Archives and have a list of the accusers. Do you think the Bellerose curse could have resulted because of Grandma and her lover?”
“If he was demon? I’m sure of it. The witches in our family have a sort of organic pull to magics that are most needed. Much like your OCD magic, Tam. It naturally developed because you’re such a stickler for order.”
Ed tilted his head curiously. It was one of those questioning looks that told her she might have some explaining to do after the conversation with her mother. She squeezed his hand and shrugged.
“It’s very likely,” Petrina continued, “that the curse could have formed as a result of your grandma’s lover accusing her of witchcraft. Oh, how awful. I had no idea. How does your Ed figure into all this?”
