Demon Born

by Christine Pope

  None of this made very much sense. Oh, he supposed he could see how a child of a witch family might want to rebel, as they did have a peculiar set of restraints they must all live under, but it sounded as if Celeste Dubois was Nicholas Toulouse’s willing partner, rather than the bewitched sex slave Loc had thought she was.

  “But why does it seem as if she’s under a spell if she went to him under her own volition?”

  The witch laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “I told you his soul was black as night. She’s under a spell because it amuses him, and because he knows it will upset Estelle Dubois even more than knowin’ that her daughter went willingly to such a dark warlock. That’s how it’s been for the past year, and I don’t see it changin’, least not until he tires of her and throws her back to her family. And of course they’ll have to take her in, because witch families always look after their own.”

  “I see.” Actually, Loc wasn’t sure he did, not completely, but understanding human motivations was still difficult for him.

  Another chuckle, although this one seemed almost genuine. “Don’t tell me you came chargin’ back here thinkin’ you were going to rescue the girl, were you? Because you can put that notion right out of your mind. Even if you managed to do it somehow — and maybe you could, seein’ what you are — that girl would just go crawlin’ right back to him. No point in wastin’ your energy.”

  Apparently not. Had Nicholas Toulouse sensed his presence here in New Orleans, and was even now attempting to determine what had brought his demon lord friend back to the city so soon after his last visit? Perhaps. Loc’s powers should not have been detected in such a way, but he still didn’t have a very clear grasp of what Toulouse was capable of.

  “He asked me to get something for him,” he said, surprised that he’d allowed himself to be so frank with this witch whose name he still didn’t know.

  “Whatever it was, you won’t be doin’ yourself or anyone else a favor if you give him what he wants,” she said darkly. “I don’t care what he promised you in return, although I can guess. Somewhere else on this earth is someone who can help you, someone who won’t cheat you.”

  “But what if there isn’t?”

  Her big dark eyes, a warm chocolate brown, fixed on him. “Like I told you before, there are worse things than exile. Best you get your priorities straight.”

  Loc wanted to laugh at her, laugh at the presumption that had led her to think she could lecture him, when he’d once been master of an entire plane of existence. However, she was regarding him calmly, brown eyes shrewd, and he had the sudden thought that perhaps laughing at her wasn’t the best idea. “My priorities are in order, I assure you.”

  “Hmm.” She crossed her arms, and the gold bangle bracelets she wore clinked faintly. For the first time, Loc wondered at the lack of activity in this shop, how no one else ever seemed to come in here. But then, perhaps this witch’s talent was keeping away those she didn’t want straying into her orbit. He supposed he could have asked, although it was generally considered rude to ask a witch or warlock what their particular gift might be. Arms still folded under her ample bosom, she said, “I’m goin’ to give you some advice.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I’m not sure what good the advice of a human will do me.”

  This time, she actually threw back her head and laughed, a deep, throaty laugh that seemed to echo through her entire body. “Well, that’s for you to decide, but I’m goin’ to give it anyway. You were in here lookin’ for somethin’ for yourself, but you left with somethin’ for someone else. Maybe it was no big deal to you, seein’ as you can make hundred-dollar bills appear out of nowhere, but even though it wasn’t hurtin’ your wallet, you still had to be thinkin’ of that other person, thinkin’ of something they might like. And that means you’ve made a connection here, whether you like it or not. The more you make those sorts of connections, the harder it’ll be for you to leave. So consider well whether it’s worth all this effort, if the answer has been in your own heart all along.”

  For a moment, Loc was silent. He thought of how Cat had looked as she stood under the patio lights the night before, her dark eyes alive with desire, even if she hadn’t been aware of her need. He remembered how sweet she had tasted, how warm her skin had been…how his body had responded as she pressed herself up against him. And then how she had rebuffed him, because she hadn’t wanted to be hurt, hadn’t wanted to open up her heart to someone whose only goal was to leave her.

  “Ah,” he said at last.

  It seemed that was enough, because the witch said, “Exactly. ‘For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?’”

  Those words sounded familiar, although Loc couldn’t recall where he’d heard them before. “Some might argue that I do not have a soul.”

  She smiled. “Oh, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come back here, askin’ worried questions about Celeste Dubois…and you wouldn’t have bought that necklace for your friend. What you need to do is look into that soul and listen to what it tells you.”

  Would he be able to hear such a voice? He supposed there was only one way to find out.

  “Thank you,” he told the witch, and she shrugged.

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t think that dark warlock in the Garden District is goin’ to be too happy when he finds out you don’t want his ‘help’ any longer.”

  11

  The sunlight flashed off the broad grape leaves, barely reaching the clusters of fruit that hung underneath. Weeks remained before those grapes would be ready to be picked, but they were still beautiful, tantalizing. Roberto had given Cat his usual Monday report, letting her know what he thought the yield for each of the varieties would be, but he and Miguel had left about a half hour before. Now she walked amongst the vines, letting the warmth of the sun do its best to work out some of the kinks in her neck. She’d put in a good six hours’ worth of work on her tapestry today, but she’d been glad of the interruption Roberto had provided. It was time to set aside her needles and scissors and go outside, try to clear her head a bit.

  Loc had been absent all day, and now that it was nearly five, she wondered if he was going to return at all. Once again, she tried to tell herself it was probably better that way, although she really didn’t believe those inner admonishments. Even if — when — he ended up leaving, she had to think it would be better if she had a chance to say goodbye.

  Eventually, she left the vineyard and made her way up to the house. To her surprise, she saw Loc standing in the shelter of the covered entry, clearly waiting for her.

  His expression was very solemn, and a sudden, sick feeling seized her stomach. Maybe he had found someone to help him, and he’d only come back here to let her know he was leaving. Suddenly, the opportunity to share a formal farewell didn’t sound nearly as appealing as it had just a few minutes earlier.

  When she approached him, though, he said probably the last thing she’d been expecting.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Cat blinked at him. “Sorry for what?”

  “For last night. For not understanding that such an advance wouldn’t be acceptable to you.”

  Oh, boy. Did she really want to do this right now? Whatever Loc had been up to today, it seemed that he’d spent some of his time engaged in a bit of soul searching. “It’s — it’s all right,” she said. Was it? But he looked worried, as if he feared she wouldn’t forgive him for that one transgression. “You just caught me off guard.”

  He nodded, but his expression remained troubled. “There is more to it than that.”

  “There is?”

  “I think we should talk inside, or at least on your patio — the one in back of your house,” he added. “Not the one where we held the party.”

  “Um…sure.” More than ever, she was convinced that he planned to tell her he’d found someone to send him home, and he was only
here now, making apologies, because he wanted to clean up whatever messes he’d made in this world before he returned to his own. “Is this the sort of thing that could use some wine?”

  For the first time, he smiled, the somberness lifting from his expression. “That might be a good idea.”

  Still puzzled, Cat led him inside the house, making a detour into the kitchen so they could collect a pair of stemless wine glasses and a bottle of Chenin blanc from the fridge. Thus armed, they went out to the patio, where the sun was filtered through the vines that climbed on the pergola overhead but still offered plenty of warmth.

  After she’d uncorked the bottle and poured some wine for both of them, she asked, “What’s this about, Loc? Are you leaving?” Because she figured it was better to get it out in the open rather than keep dancing around the topic.

  “Leaving? No. At least,” he continued, as her heart began to beat a little faster, “not immediately. But there are things I need to tell you. I want you to know the truth, even if it makes you angry with me.”

  Cat didn’t like the sound of that very much, but she told herself she needed to wait and hear what he had to say. Then again, someone who had once earned the epithet “the Lord of Chaos” could have been up to all kinds of mischief. “All right, Loc,” she said, after sipping at her Chenin blanc. “What is ‘the truth’?”

  “You know I’ve been searching for someone to send me back to my home.”

  As truths went, that one wasn’t exactly earth-shattering. “Yes.”

  “I found someone in New Orleans who said he could help me.”

  The wine she’d just swallowed seemed to be stuck somewhere near her esophagus, but Cat managed to say, “Oh, really? Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “Not necessarily.” Loc leaned forward, strong sun-browned fingers wrapped around his wine glass. “You see, this warlock said he had the strength to work such a complex enchantment, but the only way he could so was by utilizing the spell books Simon Escobar had left behind — the same spell books that were used to bring me here in the first place.”

  For a second, all Cat could do was stare at him. Now that strange conversation they’d had about the grimoires made sense — Loc had been trying to find out if she knew anything about them, especially their current location. And of course he had to shut that line of inquiry down as soon as she offered to ask Miranda about the books. The last thing he would have wanted was for the clan’s prima to know he was here and looking for such powerful magical artifacts.

  Anger surged through her. “So what was the necklace about? Trying to butter me up so I would tell you whatever you needed?”

  “No,” he replied at once. He actually looked offended, which was sort of rich, considering what he’d just told her. “I saw the necklace in a shop in New Orleans and thought you would like it. There was no plan to ‘butter you up.’” To her surprise, he reached across the table and laid his hand lightly on top of hers. She could feel a faint coolness to his skin, probably from holding his wine glass, but for some reason, she didn’t want to pull away. “And today I realized that what I was doing was wrong. I should have told you the truth about those books, and about Nicholas Toulouse.”

  “He’s the warlock in New Orleans?”

  “Yes…and a very evil man.”

  The comment surprised Cat, because she wasn’t quite sure if Loc even thought in terms of such absolutes as good and evil. He had done things which seemed altruistic, and then gone on to act in ways that appeared utterly selfish. Maybe that sort of behavior wasn’t entirely surprising in a being whose frame of reference was completely different from that of an ordinary human, but still, she’d had a hard time trying to figure him out. However, if a demon lord from a different dimension considered someone evil, then she supposed they must be.

  “But you still would have gotten the books for him.”

  Loc released her hand, dark eyes full of remorse. “Yes, I fear I would have…until today.”

  She pushed herself against the back of her chair, putting some extra distance between the two of them. “What made you change your mind?”

  “Some advice from a very wise woman. I realized that I could not give Nicholas Toulouse those books because he would never use them wisely, but would utilize them in the pursuit of power, of influence.”

  Cat was silent for a moment, thinking of Simon Escobar and how close he had come to taking control of her clan. The last thing she wanted was for the people she cared about — or anyone else, really — to have to face someone just as dangerous as Escobar. “How powerful is this Toulouse character?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I was able to sense something of his power, but I got the sense that far more was hidden than was revealed.”

  “Worse than Simon Escobar?”

  “In terms of native ability, probably not. But Toulouse is much older, has had more time to hone his talents.”

  Well, that sounded just great. Cat ran a hand through her hair, feeling the sun-warmed strands slip over her fingers. Normally, such a sensation would have reassured her, but she was finding little reassuring about the world just now. “Is he part of the clan in New Orleans?”

  “No. He is somehow apart from them, but I have no idea where he came from, or which clan he was originally born to. He has a house in the Garden District and is barred from entering the French Quarter where the Dubois witches live. That is their only real power over him, though.”

  All of this was sounding uncomfortably like what had happened to the Santiagos, the witch clan in California that had been taken over by Simon’s father, Joaquin Escobar. However, it seemed as though at least the Dubois witches and warlocks were hip to this Nicholas Toulouse’s game, even if they weren’t strong enough to get rid of him altogether.

  “What are you going to do now?” Cat asked. “I mean, this dark warlock was your only real lead, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Loc replied. However, he didn’t look nearly as dejected as someone who’d just suffered such a setback should. Actually, he appeared almost relaxed, as if it had taken a huge weight off his shoulders to have told her what he’d been planning.

  And strangely, even though she’d experienced a burst of anger earlier when he first confessed what he was up to, that anger had gone as quickly as it had appeared. Maybe it was mostly relief that it didn’t seem as though Loc would be going anywhere anytime soon.

  “But,” he went on, “if Nicholas has such powers, then someone else in this world must possess them as well. I don’t want to believe that the only person with such skills must be irredeemably evil.”

  “If he even was capable of sending you back where you came from,” Cat remarked. “He could have been lying to you to get you to bring him those books.” A thought occurred to her, and she asked, “Unless you can always tell when someone is lying to you?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” he replied. “Sometimes I can pick up on small signs and nuances, since I have been studying human behavior closely in order to imitate it as best I can, but that only goes so far. My own powers don’t extend to such an ability, so I fear that it is entirely possible Toulouse could have played on my desire to return to my world in order to trick me into getting the books for him.”

  This response wasn’t entirely reassuring, but she was glad to know that Loc wasn’t all-seeing and all-powerful. Not that she intended to lie to him anytime soon, of course, and yet it was a bit of a relief to know that he couldn’t instantly pick out the subtext of anything she said, just because his power as a demon lord allowed him to look into her mind and soul.

  Then again, he’d done a pretty good job of it the night before. Even though she’d resisted those sensations as best she could, it was hard not to recall the touch of his mouth on hers, the way the hard muscles of his chest had felt as he held her close.

  And now it seemed as if he was going to be sticking around, at least for a little while longer, and Cat really didn’t know how she was supposed to deal with tha
t.

  “We’ll need to tell Miranda,” she said, and Loc’s black-lashed eyes immediately flared with alarm.

  “Why?” he asked. “I just told you that I have no plans to cooperate with Nicholas Toulouse.”

  “I know,” she said, trying to keep her tone gentle. “But still, now there’s a dark warlock in New Orleans who knows the Castillo clan is sitting on some very valuable and dangerous books. I don’t know how much of a threat he is, whether he’d attempt to get them on his own now that he won’t have you to do his dirty business for him, but the prima of this clan needs to know that a threat is out there.” Cat stopped then, another suspicion entering her mind. “Are those books really dangerous to her unborn child, or did you just say that so she’d stay far away from them?”

  Loc sighed, one finger tracing its way through the condensation on the surface of his wine glass. “I fear I made that up. At the time, I was only thinking of what I needed to do to make sure she wouldn’t go near them before I had a chance to steal them for Nicholas Toulouse.”

  Should she chastise him for lying to her? But no, he’d already apologized, and clearly he was ready to tell her the truth now, no matter how bad it made him look. Cat wasn’t sure how many human men would do the same thing.

  “Well, Miranda and Rafe will be relieved to hear that,” she said, and decided to leave it there. Although she hoped she would never be in a position where she was utterly separated from the world she knew, she thought she understood a little of the desperation that had driven Loc to go along with Nicholas Toulouse’s demands. “But I still need to call them.”