by Michele Hauf
“Hmm...” She sat back in her chair, pondering. “Is the warlock working with a demon? Doesn’t make sense if she’s destroying demons.”
On the other hand, alliances could be twisted. The demon could be the warlock’s familiar. Or to really stretch, it was possible Arius could have picked up some demon magic while exiled in Daemonia. That made the most sense.
As well, the warlock needed blood.
Tamatha and her mother were directly blood-related to Lysia Bellerose, but she knew Arius had not access to their blood. So it must be another relative of Les Douze she had used to summon the entire dozen. Who? It had to be a relation to Arius. She could have used her own blood then. And if not, she had to have the blood of one of the witches or their relatives.
Tamatha spent the remainder of the afternoon going through the list of Les Douze, searching their genealogy and comparing names in their family histories, and when she reached number nine, she let out a hoot.
“He was her husband.”
The witch, Martine Chevalier, had married Arius Pumpelché in 1750. Naturally, Tamatha had not picked up on that because female witches tended to not take their husbands’ surnames. A few years later Martine was burned at the stake with Les Douze. Also noted was that his wife, a fellow witch, went mad with vengeance. She was made warlock but a week after her husband’s death and not a year later was bound and exiled to Daemonia as punishment for her crimes.
Tamatha tapped her lower lip. “Arius tried to bring Martine back from the dead. Did she have his blood?”
Daemonia was the Place of All Demons. A horrible place for demons. Likely a literal hell for a witch. She couldn’t imagine what the warlock must have endured.
But she was here in the mortal realm now. Or was she? Tamatha hadn’t actually seen her yet. She tapped the line on her wrist. Though no witch could access earth magics from Daemonia. Could Arius?
Could a witch escape from Daemonia? Perhaps a powerful warlock...
“Deep thoughts?”
Startled thoroughly, Tamatha let out a chirp and straightened her spine. Compulsively, she spread her hands over the page in the genealogy book. CJ stood in the doorway, a stack of papers held against his chest.
“Sorry,” he offered with a curious lift of his brow. “Have you figured things out?”
“You went to Daemonia,” she prompted. “How did you get there and how did you get out?”
“It was a foolish venture. Many vampires were sacrificed to open a portal and gain access. I was trapped there, unable to utilize my magics to get out. If it hadn’t been for my brother, TJ, coming in to rescue me, I might still be rotting in that bedamned place.”
“Arius Pumpelché was exiled to Daemonia,” she said.
“Yes, I told you that.”
She turned the book on witch genealogies toward him. CJ studied the opened pages. “She’s the one behind raising Les Douze,” she said. “I know it because I felt her in the cemetery last night.”
“You tried to conjure her?”
“We called up Les Douze and she came along with them. Not in the flesh, though, so I don’t know if she’s here in the mortal realm or somehow operating from Daemonia.”
“She wouldn’t be able to work magic in this realm from Daemonia. Which means she’s here. But I can’t believe we didn’t know about her escape. I should check with Cinder. He keeps the tech stuff in order for the Council. See when it happened or how.”
“Yes, please do that. Any information will be helpful.”
“We’ll have to report this. Which will include your name and Thrash’s since you two are working on capturing the warlock.”
“I’m cool with that. The Council won’t stop us, will it?”
“I’m sure not. You are trying to stop evil, not encourage it.”
“Though capture wasn’t exactly my plan. I’m hoping to...” Tamatha sighed and pushed the book forward on the table. “I don’t know what the plan is. I found the spell for raising dead witches. It requires a demonic hex. Do you think Arius would be capable after spending so long in Daemonia?”
“I’m sure of it. Can you handle this, Tamatha?”
She nodded. “With Ed’s help? Yes. Can you handle standing back and allowing me to handle it?”
He considered it a moment, then smiled. “Yes. As I’ve said, you are very skilled. And if you trust Thrash, then I’m of a mind to see if the demon can redeem himself to me. What’s this?” He grabbed her gently by the hand and turned it over to expose the mark left behind from Ed’s thorns. He stroked it and flinched, hissing. “That’s demonic.”
“Really?” She rubbed the skin. It didn’t hurt. And she entirely expected it to fade completely. “Ed’s thorn cut me last night.”
“But that’s— Well, you are alive, so that must mean someone had an antidote. Tamatha, this is not what I had in mind regarding him redeeming himself.”
“It was an accident. We were battling zombie witches and fighting the warlock’s magic. It just...happened.” She didn’t need to tell him the nefarious details; that Ed had come after her in a rage. “Ed was the one who mixed up the antidote and was able to save me. He cut off his own thorn to do it, CJ. Wasn’t that heroic?”
The dark witch didn’t show any sign he was pleased. Instead he leaned closer and met her gaze. “How did he get the spell? Did you teach it to him?”
“Well, no. He said he injected me with the antidote and that worked.”
“Inject—no. All antidotes require a spoken spell. You know that, Tamatha.”
Yes, she did. And what she’d just read about the antidote had remarked a spoken spell. “He did mention Libby helped. Maybe she gave it to him.”
“Libby Saint-Charles is involved?”
Tamatha nodded. She wasn’t about to tell him his wife, Vika, had been involved, as well. He wouldn’t like that. Maybe. She couldn’t get a read on CJ. Was he angry or being protective?
Again, he tapped her wrist over the healed wound. “The demon is in you now. Forever.”
She’d said much the same to Ed last night. Didn’t sound so awful to her. In fact, it felt awesome, as if they’d taken a step further with one another.
“Do you know what happens when a demon bonds with a witch, Tamatha?”
“I, well— We didn’t bond, CJ. That’s a sexual thing, isn’t it?”
“It’s this.” He tapped her wrist again. “His blood exchange with yours.”
“It wasn’t exactly blood. It was his crushed thorn, along with salt and whiskey.”
“He could have gotten your blood on his thorn when he cut you. And then in turn he injected you with his very essence.”
She hadn’t considered that. It sounded so not like a party. “Am I going to turn into a demon?” she asked, feeling a little frightened now.
“Worse,” CJ said. “You’ve given the demon control over you. None of your magic will be able to stop him. If he wants to control you in any manner, he can.”
“Ed would never do that.”
“If he even thinks it, it will happen. You might learn exactly how much the man cares for you now. I wish there was a spell to reverse this, but he’s marked you and you are his now.” CJ blew out a breath. “I feel terrible just saying that. I’m so sorry. Perhaps I should request the Council put someone else on this matter with the cemetery zombies.”
“No, CJ, I can handle this. You said so yourself. Please, give me a chance,” she pleaded. “I trust Ed. Besides, I’ve made my mark on him, as well.”
“How so?”
“The corax demon is marked through life with major events and magics.”
“Yes, with sigils on his skin that look much like tattoos.”
“My family crest is forming over Ed’s heart. It’s my mark on him, I know it is.”
; “You mean that bell-shaped flower you’ve tattooed on your arm? Interesting.”
“What do you think it means?”
“Such a significant symbol that represents your family?” CJ’s brow lifted. “My first guess would be that he’s in love with you.”
Tamatha beamed at that knowledge. Ed hadn’t said as much to her, but yes, she liked to think that they had grown that close. Close enough for love? She wanted it from him. But she remained cautious because of the family motto.
“But a more learned guess,” CJ added, “would be a death mark. You and that family-curse thing. Don’t most of the men you women love eventually die? I’d guess the demon is not long for this world.”
“I’m going to go with your first guess.”
“You do that. It’s no skin off me if the demon dies. Then I won’t have to worry about you being controlled by him.”
“That’s very rude of you. And surprisingly unsympathetic.”
“Tamatha, be smart. I know you want the romance and roses, but really? Have you ever had a relationship with a man that did not end with his death or him leaving you while he was carted off in a straitjacket?”
She sighed and shook her head.
And then she remembered what her mom had suggested. “But I might have a chance to break the curse. If we can reunite my zombie grandmother with the demon lover who sent her to the stake, then maybe the curse will be lifted.”
CJ whistled and shook his head. “Mercy, you need to fill me in on everything.”
Chapter 21
Ed greeted Tamatha with a half hug. He wanted to crush her into his embrace but his left arm wasn’t cooperating. And still he felt weak and drained. Not up to par. As if he’d shifted to a conspiracy a dozen times in one day.
Would the Bellerose death curse get him, too? He didn’t want to think about it.
She noticed his lackluster hug and grabbed his hand. He hissed, but then remembered he was wearing gloves and she wouldn’t be harmed.
“Still hurt?” she asked.
“Not so much hurt as...numb. I can’t seem to move my arm. Don’t worry about it.” He kissed her. “I’ll recover.”
But he wasn’t so sure. He’d never heard about a corax demon coming back after removal of his thorns and horns. He was up on all demon activity in the city, but...well, just...but. He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know, either.
“I wonder if I could whip up a recovery spell?” she said as she glided into the living room, dropping her purse on the counter as she went by it.
“I’m fine, sweetness.”
She turned and displayed the inside of her wrist where he had originally cut her. “CJ tells me we’re bonded now,” she said. “Maybe I’ve got some of your demon mojo I can tap into.”
He took her hand and studied her wrist. A dark gray line showed where the cut had healed. His heart actually constricted as he looked at it. He’d harmed her. Almost killed her. And she was acting as if it were nothing more than a scratch.
“Bonded?” he asked. “Is that like when my werewolf brother bonded with his faery wife? It’s for life?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I believe it’s more on the lines that we’re inside one another now. We might sense each other, maybe even tap into one another’s magic.”
“I don’t want you trying to make this better. You could make it worse.”
“You don’t trust me?” She slipped her grasp into his and kissed his fingers. Green eyes peered up at him and those thick lashes dusted the air.
He was bewitched, and happy for it.
“I love you,” he said and then swallowed because he hadn’t expected to say that. But really? “I mean it, witch. I love you.”
She hugged him and he tucked his head down and nuzzled into her hair. “I feel the same way,” she said. “It feels fast. But right. You know? But also it feels like destiny.”
“You mean like with Les Douze and the Libre denizen? I don’t know about that.”
“We were brought together for a reason, Ed. I believe that with all my heart.”
“So we were brought together, meant to fall in love, to ultimately slaughter your grandmother and see me die from the family curse?”
“Don’t put it like that. I think we can break the curse!”
That bedamned curse. Something about him dying because he loved her. So he either died from a lost thorn or because of romance. Could he get a peek behind door number three? “The one where I’m supposed to die?”
“Yes, that one.”
She was entirely too chipper about the whole thing, but as she led him to the couch, he dutifully followed. What else could he do? If her family curse didn’t kill him, the missing thorn surely would.
He sat and she turned to place her hands on his knees. “My grandmother’s lover was a demon named Rascon.”
“Rascon? But I told you. He’s my grandfather.”
“I know! Isn’t that oddly cool? Ed!” He loved her enthusiasm, but he was having trouble rising to her level. Because that implied nothing more than a sure death.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“My mother returned to Paris last night and went through Lysia’s things. She found some diary entries about her lover Rascon.”
Blowing out a breath, he settled back against the couch. Now things were getting freaky. Maybe there was something to this destiny thing.
Tamatha curled up beside him. “What do you think of that for destiny?”
“It’s freakin’ weird, if you ask me. What makes you think the warlock didn’t bring the two of us together as part of her plot to destroy the Libre denizen?”
“Well, I don’t have proof she didn’t. But I’m erring on the destiny side. It suits me better. Besides, how could she have known about your grandfather and my grandmother? Wait. Maybe she could have.”
He should tell her about the warlock’s visit and their bargain. No.
“I learned that Arius’s husband, Martine, was one of Les Douze. He would have told Arius about Lysia’s affair with Rascon. Which could explain how she’s put the two of us together. But there’s no worry. Now all we have to do is get Rascon here to apologize to Lysia and I think we can break the spell.”
He gave her such an incredulous look that she actually flinched.
“He is still alive, yes?” she asked.
“He is. I’ve heard about him now and again, but have never actually met him. Not sure where he is, but my mom would know.” And the last person he wanted to contact now was Sophie. “So you want my grandfather to apologize to his zombie lover for sending her to burn at the stake? I’m not sure that’s going to go over too well.”
“We have to try.” She clasped his hand, and while she wasn’t wielding the fluttery lashes for seduction, Ed’s heart still performed a double beat. “Don’t you want to avoid death?”
“At all costs. But there’s a lot worse things in this strange realm that can kill me than loving you.”
“No, there’s not. The Bellerose curse is extremely accurate. If you don’t die, at the very least, you’ll go mad. I do love you, Ed. I want you to be alive and sane so I can continue to love you.”
“Sanity and a heartbeat sound good to me. But you’re overlooking the key point here. Even if Rascon did apologize and he and your grandmother kissed and made up, and the curse was broken, there’s still the problem that zombie witches are destroying demons. They are controlled by Arius. No long-lost love reunion is going to change that.”
“I know. But Arius’s husband was one of Les Douze. She’s doing this for that reason. All for love. Don’t you see? That’s her weakness. Love.”
“I sense love is the weakness in the hearts of most. I wonder why she waited two and a half centuries?”
“Beca
use she was exiled to Daemonia and she’s only recently escaped. CJ is checking the details of that. CJ also said Arius would need the blood of one of Les Douze to raise them from the dead. She must have some of her husband’s blood. If she were to run out, I suspect the zombie spell would be broken.”
Ed swore and stood, pacing toward the stained glass windows that curved about the living area. He recalled Arius’s visit. The cherry-red hair. The demonic marks. Had she worn some kind of vial about her neck?
“This is nuts,” he said. “This all seems to hinge on lovers and their broken hearts. Why do people do that? What is so special about love?”
Tamatha huffed out a breath, but shrugged. “Love can make a person do strange things.”
He turned to her. “How many times have you been in love?”
“I, uh...” She stood and approached him. “Does it matter?”
“Not in the greater scheme of things, but I am curious. You tell me your lovers die or go mad. Did you love them all?”
“Oh, no. I can like a lover and enjoy sex with him, but that doesn’t mean I love him. Though I can say I’ve loved from my heart twice in my lifetime. What about you?”
He shrugged and turned to face the window.
“You have loved?”
“Is it important that I have? Maybe I haven’t found the right woman until... Saying ‘I love you’ means something to me.” He glanced over his shoulder. “That’s the first time I’ve said it to anyone.”
Tamatha’s jaw dropped open. “Your mother? Father? Half brother?”
He shook his head and looked away. So he wasn’t one of those gushing emotional kind of guys who liked to hug the world and count daisies. His heart was hard and black. He was demon, for hell’s sake. He’d never thought love was something he’d know or deserve.
But when he was with Tamatha he did know. And love? He stroked the back of his hand where the glove covered the bandage. He’d cut off his thorn for her. That meant something. Maybe he’d like to have love for more than the short time her family curse would offer him. If he didn’t die from his lost thorn first.
