by Michele Hauf
“Arius Pumpelché,” Petrina provided. “Know her?”
Rascon hissed. “Crazy witch. Tried to raise her husband from the dead right after he was burned at the stake. It was a fine day when she was exiled to Daemonia. But she’s here?”
Tamatha nodded.
“While in Daemonia,” Rascon said, “she used the demons to learn their ways and gather their magics. She is reviled by us all. And she will be a force to fight unless you’ve demonic magic.”
“Which I do,” Ed offered.
“Not powerful enough,” Rascon said. “Even if you should combine your magic with your witchy lover. Arius is warlock times ten with the added demonic knowledge. I remember her too well, and that was when she was not so powerful.” Rascon sighed. “Perhaps you should simply let her complete her act of vengeance then let her slip away.”
“So you’re cool with her killing your daughter Sophie?” Ed offered. “And me?”
The demon met Ed’s question with a startled moue. “Not my Sophie?”
“Arius is after all the relatives of the Libre denizen. I told Mom to go deeper into hiding, but unless we take care of the warlock, she’ll never be safe.” Ed tilted his head side to side, stretching his muscles and gearing up his fortitude. “Like I said, we’ve got this under control.”
“One more demon on your team would only increase that control,” Rascon suggested. He stepped forward. “If I can help you take out that bitch of a warlock, then you have me. You have my word I will give my all.”
Ed glanced to Tamatha, who nodded. He didn’t want the old man involved. He looked ineffectual and weak. And he hadn’t wanted to help originally. What gave him hope to trust him?
“Let me protect my family,” Rascon offered.
“Excellent,” Petrina whispered and gestured to Rascon to follow her. “We’re going to summon some zombies. Are you in?”
The elder demon followed the witch. “Zombies are new to me, but I’m always willing to give things a try. Twice if they feel good.”
Tamatha glanced to Ed and smiled. She didn’t have to say anything. So he’d inherited his grandfather’s penchant for reckless adventure.
* * *
Rascon agreed to talk to Lysia if they could summon Les Douze. That might negate the curse and in doing so gain Lysia as an ally and perhaps even allow her to introduce them to Martine Chevalier. The key to defeating Arius.
Before Tamatha could enter the salt circle she and her mother had poured onto the cobblestones before a massive family mausoleum, Ed tugged her aside into the shadows created by a mourning angel.
He kissed her slowly, savoring the feel of her mouth on his. Lemons overwhelmed and he smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Edamite Thrash. That’s why I’m doing this. I want to break the curse. And now that your grandfather is on board, it’s very possible it could happen.”
“I still don’t trust him. He came to see me too eagerly. And then to return after I’d asked him to do the one thing he would never dream to do? Something doesn’t feel right.”
“It’s love, Ed. Rascon has a love for his family. His daughter. And you. He wants to protect you. Believe in love, will you?”
“I believe I love you.” He kissed her again.
“That’s all that matters. So you two will need to stay outside the salt circle.”
“I have no problem with that request.”
“Right, but...” She tugged him back before he could walk toward the circle. “That means you’ll be, uh...you know.”
He didn’t have to think about what she meant before it popped into his brain. “Really? Again? I’m starting to feel like a worm on a hook.”
“Yes, but you’re a sexy worm. And you’re still wearing the white light my mother put over us, so that will help a little.”
He shook his arms. “I don’t feel it. But that’s how it’s supposed to be. Got it. Let me do this, then.”
He gripped her hand and slid it up over her wrist. Tamatha could see the family crest on his chest glow through his shirt while she felt the heat on the healed wound on her wrist. Their bond was strong. And with a sudden puff of black smoke, she felt as though she’d been covered over with something intangible.
“My style of white light,” he said with a smirk. “The double protection should be just what you need. Now come on, witch. Let’s go play with zombies.”
* * *
Nine members of Les Douze remained. Ed had taken out one during their altercation the other day, and the other two, well, Tamatha didn’t know where they were. She’d asked her mother what Lysia looked like. She’d died before cameras had been invented and no one had ever sketched her.
Petrina had smiled and said how often people had remarked that she had looked so much like her mother. Save that Lysia’s hair had been much darker.
Okay, so Lysia was her mother’s twin. Zombified.
And which one was Martine? She could pick out at least two zombies that looked remotely male. It wasn’t easy looking at any of them. Flesh hung off exposed bone. Metallic ooze stained their tattered clothing. Missing hair and teeth, also, some cheeks missing.
But there. That one. It had to be Lysia. She stood tallest and had most of her hair. It was bluish black, darker than Petrina’s but definitely of the same shade. Interesting how as the generations had progressed their hair had got lighter. Tamatha cautioned herself not to slip into fascination.
The zombies shambled closer. Ed and Rascon stood behind the salt circle in which she and her mother stood.
Sprinkling ash from a velvet bag into her palm, Tamatha recited a ward against the dead. Holding up a hand and now reciting a spell, she called on the wind to prevent their approach.
“Lysia?” Petrina called out. And then on a gasp, she murmured, “Oh, ma mère.”
The zombie Tamatha had suspected was her grandmother yanked her head up from its sideways tilt and eyed them both. She opened her mouth and metallic ooze drooled down her chin.
“Oh, Grandmother.” Tears wet her eyes. She wanted to embrace the tattered remains of her grandmother and...change her. Bring back her life. But that was impossible. One could never return a person to their original flesh-and-blood mentally-stable state after death.
The warlock was nowhere to be seen. Tamatha must work quickly.
“Rascon,” she said, signaling the demon step forward. “Talk to her!”
“Right.” The demon’s first steps were confident and sure, but after five or six he slowed and his fingers flexed by his sides.
Meanwhile, Ed stepped to the side of the circle beside Tamatha. He reached across the salt line and, with a grimace, grabbed her hand. The mark on her wrist blazed brightly and he nodded, teeth gritted. It hurt him like hell to cross the salt line, but he wasn’t going to let her go.
Goddess, but she loved him.
The zombie in the lead studied the approaching demon, then snarled. “You lied to me!” Lysia yelled. Her voice was graveled and hollow but she was understandable. “You made me believe you loved me!”
Rascon removed his canvas hat, pressing it over his chest, and put up his hand placatingly. “It was a necessary evil, Lysia. You enslaved me.”
The witch hissed at him.
Rascon turned to them and gave a shrug.
“Give it your best,” Ed said.
His grandfather nodded and with a breath of bravery turned back to the zombie. “Please, it’s been centuries. Can you forgive me?”
“For doing this to me?”
“I did not bring you back from the dead, Lysia darling. That was—”
“Don’t say the warlock’s name,” Tamatha said quickly. “We don’t want to invite her to the party too early.”
Rascon nodded. Then he dodged to avoid Lysia when she
charged him, but she still caught him about the neck with a clawed hand. The other zombies began to mobilize and get antsy.
“I have to help him,” Ed said as he let go of Tamatha’s hand and rushed forward to help free his grandfather. A tangle of limbs and shouts ensued.
Tamatha stepped forward, but her mother caught her hand on her shoulder. “Stay safe in the circle, Tam.”
But her lover was in danger. He couldn’t realize the whole coven was closing in on him. She tried throwing more repellent magic. Flame burned only briefly on the zombies before quickly extinguishing. She was reluctant to use fire. How cruel to wield the killing fire against them once again? And her grandmother. While tugging at Rascon’s hair, she flung Ed away into the groping arms of her dead cohorts.
Closing her eyes and spreading the fingers of both hands before her, Tamatha focused on Ed and their connection. “Strength,” she commanded and felt the surge of power infuse her system.
“Whoa!” Ed called, and he cocked a grin at Tamatha. “I felt that.” Turning, he sent out a wave of demonic magic toward the crowd of zombies. That separated them and sent a few flying.
Yet Lysia was still tearing at Rascon. Ed gestured to throw magic at the twosome. Then he appeared to think twice and instead reached for his grandfather, managing to pull him away from the threat. Fabric tore and Ed landed on the ground at Lysia’s feet.
The witch growled and lunged for him. She’d torn his shirt away from his chest. The zombie stopped abruptly before plunging her clawed fingers in through his rib cage. She pressed her palm to the sigil over his chest. “The Bellerose crest?”
Wincing at the obvious painful connection, Ed offered, “It’s your granddaughter. She’s imprinted on me. We are in love.”
Lysia jerked her gaze up to meet Petrina, who nodded and said, “This is Tamatha, Lysia. Your granddaughter. She was born over a century after your death.”
“My granddaughter loves a nasty demon?”
“He’s good, Grandmother,” Tamatha said. “He thought he was sacrificing his life to save me a few days ago. Fortunately, his life was spared. But he’s weak still because of the curse that was created when Rascon betrayed you. All men who love Bellerose women go mad or die. I want to love Ed forever, Lysia. Please. Help make that happen.”
The witch righted in a spitting spray of metallic ooze. She wiped the stuff from her forearm, which showed more bone than flesh. “This was a foul punishment. Why?”
“A warlock brought you and your coven back to seek revenge against your accusers.”
“Just so!” Lysia said, slapping a palm to her chest.
“But, Grandmother, the warlock is killing all the accusers’ relations. Ed is Rascon’s grandson. The warlock wants him dead, too.”
“We’re trying to break the spell cast by the warlock,” Petrina said. “The one who was married to Martine Chevalier.”
Lysia cast her gaze toward one of the males wearing tattered damask breeches. Torn lace hung around his neck, which exposed the thorax. One arm was missing. Had to be Martine.
“Exorcise me back to the grave,” Lysia said decidedly. “And all will be well.”
“All will be well if you can forgive Rascon.”
Lysia jerked her gaze toward the demon, who struggled with two zombies, though they seemed to have lost steam and one merely gnawed on Rascon’s wrist while he pushed against the other’s forehead to keep it at chewing distance.
“A Bellerose woman never bows before a man,” Lysia said. “Most especially a demon.”
“I require no subservient gesture!” Rascon said as he shoved off the biting zombie. “Nor forgiveness. Simple understanding that I acted to protect those of my breed is all I ask of you. It is what my grandson Edamite does now. And I believe he loves your granddaughter with a true heart, Lysia. He can be trusted as I never could be.”
Lysia dropped to her knees before Ed, who still lay sprawled in cautious submission. She placed her hand over the Bellerose crest and he gritted his teeth. When Tamatha made to move for him, he shook his head at her. “I can feel your grandmother’s sorrow,” he said. “She is in so much pain.” He groaned as the intensity of his experience increased.
“Good.” Lysia stood, breaking the bond. “Someone knows what I have endured. You, demon, will carry my pain. If you should think to harm my granddaughter, you will know my pain tenfold.”
“That will never happen.”
“Demons lie. But I hope you are an exception.” Lysia nodded. “I release you from my hatred, Rascon, but I will never forgive you.” She crossed her arms and wobbled. Once a zombie... “Now, send me back to the grave, if you will.”
Not sure if the Bellerose curse had indeed been broken, Tamatha hadn’t a chance to ask about it. Green lightning sparked the air around them, zapping a few of the zombies dead. And suddenly standing before them stood the warlock in full demonic tribal war paint. In one hand she held a staff that glowed red and in the other a misshapen creature’s skull. Around her neck hung a red vial on a leather cord.
“Let’s party,” Arius said.
Chapter 25
“Martine!” the warlock called. One of the zombies moved forward from the pack, seeking the commanding voice. “Get behind me, husband.”
The male zombie in the tattered damask breeches shambled over behind the warlock.
Ed joined Tamatha’s side in the salt circle and clasped her hand. She in turn clasped her mother’s hand. She wasn’t sure where Rascon was, but he’d served his purpose. Only time would tell if the family curse had been broken.
Right now, she had a more dire problem with which to deal. The vial hanging from Arius’s necklace must be blood. The blood of her dead husband? Had to be. It was key to sending the zombies back to the grave.
Petrina began to chant a reinforcement spell that would increase any magic they used. Ed cast up a black smoke that surrounded them in the salt circle. He’d stepped into the circle?
“How’d you do that?” she whispered, with a glance to the salt.
“Must be our bond. I can feel it prick at me, but since your grandmother took her hand off me, I feel a hell of a lot better than I have for days. Strong.”
Maybe the curse had been broken?
Lysia spit and called out to her coven with a rangy howl that would have called werewolves had they been in the vicinity.
“Yes,” Arius directed with her staff. “Gather, witches! There is one of my targets standing before us now. Search for the other! He was directly responsible for the flames that ate away your flesh and blood.”
Two zombies shambled off in search of Rascon.
Arius put back her hand holding the staff and Martine grasped it. Tamatha thought he held the staff more for support since his head seemed dangerously close to falling off.
Fingers coved to bracket her head, Arius began to chant. It wasn’t Latin, and her voice seemed to double and then break off into unison of horrific sounds.
“She’s speaking in demonic tongues,” Ed said. “Shit!” His entire body cringed and their bond allowed Tamatha to feel his pain wash through her system. Electric and sharp, it cut at her from within.
“Break your bond right now,” Petrina demanded, “or you’ll never have the strength to fight the warlock. Drop his hand!”
She did so, reluctantly shaking off Ed’s hand, but when he responded by also pulling away, she knew that even though it hurt in her very soul, she had done the right thing.
“Gather flame,” she recited and began to draw up her magic.
Arius laughed odd, wicked laughter that crackled like ice. But when Lysia suddenly turned and began to stalk toward her, the warlock silenced. “Mind your place, witch!”
And Tamatha took a moment to regroup. Zombies were flesh and earth. So a little earth magic... Focusing on th
e surrounding graves and the little space of land between them, she called up the earth, which exploded around them in a cloud of darkness.
Ed mixed in his dark smoky magic that seemed to adhere to the earth particles and spark when it hit the zombies. Some cried out; others fought against the substance as if it were flames.
A command from Arius shook the electrified earth from the air and it landed with a thump all around them.
Ed glanced over his shoulder at Tamatha. His eyes glowed red. “I’m feeling a bit unkind right now. Pardon me while I try a different tactic.”
Spreading out his arms and tilting back his head, he shifted. Black ravens took to air and coiled above the warlock and her unholy crew of zombies. Commanding a break-off, a single raven from the unkindness dived toward the warlock and snatched the vial of blood in its beak. The warlock’s staff caught the end of a feather, but did not hamper its escape.
The raven circled, dodging a flash of green flame as the warlock shouted at it in defiance. Tamatha saw the thing drop from the raven’s beak. She held up her hand and caught the vial.
“Destroy it,” Petrina ordered.
Dropping the vial, Tamatha crushed the glass under her boot heel and stomped it furiously. A mist of red smoke sifted around her feet. Salt from the circle crept toward the crushed glass and soaked into the blood.
At that moment the zombies shifted alliance and turned on Arius. The warlock’s staff shot out random sparks of green, but she could not control her dead minions. Demonic curses filled the night air, crashing against the protective shield Tamatha and Petrina stood behind.
It was the male zombie Martine who shuffled up to Arius and shoved his hand into her chest. The warlock gasped for breath. Martine pulled out her heart and tossed it aside to his cohorts. The feast that ensued was enough to make anyone go vegetarian.
Ed landed inside the circle and shifted back to human form, coming complete with his arms about Tamatha. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yes, almost finished.”
Petrina’s chanting grew louder. She sent out exorcising vibrations while Tamatha recited the exorcism, commanding the dead to return whence they came. The zombies responded. As the warlock’s body wilted onto the cobblestones, her hair was tugged out and chunks of flesh were taken as repayment for her vile magic. The zombies began to wither. The metallic material gushed from their mouths and ears and noses, and soon there was nothing but a spreading puddle of the shiny substance.
