A Witch's Work Is Never Done

by Kate Moseman

  Justine chuckled. “Sounds like Cosmo.”

  Phoenix turned to Raya. “Shall we?”

  Raya looked around. “How do we go in?”

  “We go down.” He led her behind the rocks to a dark opening in the ground. “Normally, you’d need ropes.”

  She knelt and peered into the blackness. “Normally, I’d need a tranquilizer.”

  “Unfortunately, all you have is me.”

  Raya gave him a very strange look. “You’ll have to do.”

  Justine stepped back to give them space.

  Phoenix unfurled his wings. “I’ll carry you down.”

  Raya hesitated. “You’ll drop me.”

  He tilted his head. “Seriously? You think I’d go to all this trouble just to drop you?”

  She rose and approached him.

  They stood toe-to-toe.

  He wrapped his arms around her and felt the sharp intake of her breath as it quickened under his embrace. He kept his voice as steady as possible. “You’ll have to hold on to me.”

  Raya wrapped her arms around his back, below his wings.

  He indicated his chest with a nod. “Rest your head here, so there’s no danger of hitting it as we descend.”

  She made eye contact briefly, then complied, slowly nestling her head near his shoulder.

  “Ready?”

  “If you drop me, I’ll—”

  “Hush.” He raised one hand and smoothed it over her hair. “I won’t.”

  Raya held him tighter. “Ready.”

  Phoenix flapped his wings, sending them both upward to hover over the cave entrance, before dropping in a controlled descent through the opening in the ground.

  The sunlight disappeared in seconds as they plunged into the tunnel. They landed softly on the sandy floor.

  Phoenix released his hold and wished the descent had been just a bit longer.

  Raya withdrew her arms and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “It’s cold.” She pulled out the flashlight and turned it on.

  The light revealed chiseled limestone walls surrounding a narrow, low-ceilinged passage. Above, the entrance appeared as small as a pinhole.

  Phoenix’s hand brushed the stone. “Not a very cheerful place to hide out. I would have picked someplace sunny, like a deserted island.”

  “I thought these tunnels were filled with bones. Like an ossuary.” She walked with great care, checking the ground before she placed her feet.

  “Only a very small part. Most of the caves and tunnels are devoid of—shall we say—human decor.”

  “How far do the tunnels go?”

  “Almost two hundred miles.”

  Raya whistled. “Wouldn’t want to get lost down here.”

  “People do this for fun, you know. Exploring the tunnels. There are secret entrances all over Paris, which gives it an air of mystery—not to mention that it’s highly illegal to wander around down here. It’s irresistible to a certain type.”

  They turned a corner.

  The sound of running water echoed through the tunnel.

  She stopped. “I am not walking in whatever liquid is running through here.”

  “Neither am I. We’ll stick to the dry tunnels.” Phoenix ducked a low-hanging stone. “Mind your head.”

  They continued through the twisting tunnels of the old quarry until the passageway opened up to a larger, room-like space decorated with elaborate graffiti. Broad pieces of stone stacked along one of the walls formed what appeared to be a tiered seating area.

  Raya sat down on the lowest tier and propped the flashlight in a crevice. “So far, no angels.”

  Phoenix settled on the stone next to her. “We may need to get his attention.”

  Raya retrieved her wand. “With magic?”

  “Justine said he’d notice it.”

  “Should we both do something?”

  Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think all that power you’re loaded up with will draw enough attention?”

  She met his gaze. “Are you scared he’ll notice you and get mad before he even shows up?”

  “I resent that remark.”

  “You resemble it.” She stood up. “Come on. Showtime.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Raya looked him up and down. “You’ve been wearing that outfit ever since you got to Paris. Show me something else. Give me a dark prince fashion show—that should put off enough magic to attract attention.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Phoenix sighed and stood up. “I like this look.”

  “And I like fresh air and sunlight. Stop stalling and let’s do this.” Raya held her wand out.

  The crystal at the tip began to glow.

  He eyed the crystal. “What are you going to do?”

  Raya smiled faintly without taking her concentration from the wand. “Have some fun.”

  Strands of red light snaked from the wand like electricity escaping from a novelty glass globe. The light wound around Raya and twisted behind her back, tracing a wing-shaped outline before filling in the open space with an airy filigree of crimson light.

  A light sweat shone on Raya’s brow. “What do you think?”

  “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” He extended his wings as well as he could in the cramped space, mirroring her illusionary wings with his own.

  “Your turn.” She looked up from the crystal and let the illusion dissipate, its magic winking out in the darkness.

  “What are the fashionably dressed dark princes wearing these days?” Phoenix held a finger to his jaw, as if giving the question great consideration. He snapped his fingers and altered his outfit to a particularly well-tailored example of a black three-piece suit.

  “Do you even need to snap your fingers?”

  “No, but it’s fun.”

  She assessed his ensemble with a long look. “Not very practical for crawling around caves.”

  “You can’t be satisfied, can you?”

  Raya laughed. “No, I like it! It reminds me of what you were wearing the night we met—but go ahead and try something else.”

  He snapped his fingers again. This time, he appeared in black satin knee breeches, an elegant white shirt with lace trim, and a fine black overcoat with gold buttons.

  “Oh, now you’re just teasing me.” Raya came up to him and took one lapel in her fingers. “You know this isn’t appropriate for a quarry.” She smoothed the fabric and released it.

  Phoenix snapped his fingers and reverted to his usual appearance.

  “There’s the Phoenix I know. Ridiculous leather jacket and all.”

  “May I remind you, witch, that you insisted on acquiring a rather similar one for yourself?”

  “Did I?” Raya looked away and fiddled with her wand. “I don’t recall.”

  “You—”

  They both froze as another light pierced the darkness of the cave.

  24

  A man walked into the room from a second entrance, his headlamp sweeping a blinding glare across the room.

  Raya shielded her eyes.

  “Bonjour.” His French accent was rough as gravel, but warm as cognac. His workmanlike clothing puffed clouds of cave dust as he took a seat on a stone.

  “Bonjour, friend.” Phoenix positioned himself casually between the newcomer and Raya.

  “Friend?” He switched off his headlamp, displaying the thick muscles of his forearms. “An Englishman in the caves, eh? And an Englishwoman?” He glanced at Raya.

  “American,” said Raya, who couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him.

  “The colonies. Of course.” He nodded to himself and smoothed a thick hand over his bald head.

  Phoenix compared the man be
fore him to his memory of Justinian. Hadn’t Justinian sported waves of billowing hair? Immaculate white robes? Ridiculously over-the-top gladiator sandals? The man perched on the stone showed no glimmers of magic, angelic or otherwise—but then, angels were known for their ability to go unnoticed.

  However, they weren’t very good at lying.

  “So you’re French, then?”

  The man looked at Phoenix, a mild expression on his face. “French? I suppose I am.”

  Phoenix couldn’t tell if this was an artful evasion or simply an odd sense of humor. Or both. “Were you born here?”

  His chuckle sounded more like a rumble. “No.”

  Raya tried a question. “How long have you been exploring the caves?”

  He looked at the ceiling as he considered his answer. “A long time. Maybe even a very long time.”

  Bored of the twenty questions game, Phoenix peered closer. Surely there would be a telltale sign.

  The man noticed Phoenix’s careful study. He genially patted his clothing. “Is my shirt unbuttoned, friend?”

  His ironic emphasis on the last word set off warning bells.

  Then he stood, unfolding like a mountain on legs, and came within arm’s reach of Phoenix. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  Phoenix shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “You reminded me of someone, that’s all.”

  “Do I?” The rumble in his voice deepened.

  “An old friend.” He tried to edge backward without drawing attention to the fact that he was edging backward.

  With one heavy step, the man closed the distance. “I don’t think I’m your friend.”

  Raya quietly positioned her wand to point in his direction.

  The man looked at her briefly before returning his gaze to Phoenix. “That won’t help you, ma chérie.”

  She lowered it. “How do you—”

  He removed his headlamp and held it in his hand. The light blazed, then elongated to form a column of fire. The straps twisted around themselves into a handle, which he gripped tightly as he raised the flaming sword to Phoenix’s neck. The crackling edge emitted a hissing sound. “You have one chance to explain.”

  “It would be a lot easier if you didn’t hold a sword to my neck, Justinian—ow!” Phoenix winced as the angel brought it even closer.

  “I should send you to oblivion right now. Then I wouldn’t have to look at your ugly face again for a very long time.”

  Raya stood up and slowly approached. “What did he do to you?”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t get into this right now—” Phoenix had to stop talking when Justinian brought the hissing blade another fraction of an inch closer.

  “This rois de cons—”

  “That’s ‘king of idiots,’” said Phoenix, for Raya’s benefit.

  “Shut up, I’m talking to the lady.” Justinian repositioned the sword with its tip at Phoenix’s throat.

  “Oh, a lady! I like that.” Raya slipped closer to Justinian and smiled.

  Justinian returned the smile while keeping the sword in place. “My apologies, madame. I did not mean to frighten you. This beauf—”

  “Uneducated rube,” said Phoenix.

  Justinian shot him a warning glare. “This beauf started a riot that tore down priceless statues at Notre Dame.”

  “In my defense, they were already very angry. I just suggested they hold a demonstration and demand their rights.”

  Raya stared at them. “When was this, exactly?”

  “The French Revolution,” said Phoenix.

  Her eyes widened. “You started the French Revolution?”

  “I didn’t start it, okay? And they had a lot to be mad about, let me tell you!”

  Justinian growled. “They stormed my cathedral, thinking the statues were of French kings, and then they dragged the statues to the guillotine and beheaded them.”

  Phoenix rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry—I was a little more concerned about people who didn’t have enough bread to eat than propping up the status quo and a bunch of old statues of saints!”

  “You weren’t concerned about the people—you just wanted to cause trouble!”

  “You just wanted to keep things as they were!”

  Demon and angel glared at each other.

  Raya delicately and fearlessly stepped between them, facing Justinian. “We all make mistakes,” she said soothingly, patting his muscular shoulder until he slowly lowered the sword to his side.

  Phoenix peeked around Raya. “By the way, what happened to your hair?”

  Justinian’s eyes narrowed. “You see? He is nothing but a troublemaker!”

  “Yes, yes—I know.” Raya spoke like someone calming a child. “Your sister said as much.”

  “My sister? You talked to Justine?”

  “She’s doing really well for herself, you know. Cutest little bakery I ever saw.”

  Phoenix stood in awe of Raya’s skill at transitioning from dire peril to family-oriented small talk.

  Justinian looked troubled. “She leaves me things, sometimes.”

  Raya playfully smacked his sword arm. “You should pop up for a visit. Don’t you get bored down here?”

  “Well—I do have a library in my cave.”

  “A library? Down here?”

  Justinian scuffed his toe in the sand. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “Listen, Phoenix is very sorry for what he did.” Raya caught Phoenix’s eye and winked.

  “Oh—yes! Terribly sorry, mate.”

  The angel raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  Phoenix smiled in what he hoped was a charming manner. “Did you know they finally found the heads?”

  Justinian’s face turned thunderous again.

  Raya’s lips pressed together as she caught Phoenix’s gaze again and shook her head almost imperceptibly. “And Phoenix would like to do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

  Phoenix did a double take. “I would?”

  Raya nodded serenely. “Of course you would. Just like you said.”

  “He said that?” Justinian regarded Phoenix with surprise.

  “Absolutely,” said Raya.

  Phoenix put on a look of humble contrition.

  Raya placed a hand on Justinian’s considerable bicep. “Why don’t we go to your cave and talk about it?”

  In one swift movement, Justinian returned the flaming sword to its earlier form and settled the headlamp in place on his forehead. “All right. But one false move, demon—” He pointed a finger at Phoenix.

  “Yes, yes. I get it. Flaming swords and flying heads. No problem.”

  Justinian turned away, his broad back flexing as he headed deeper into the tunnels.

  25

  Phoenix reached out a hand to slow Raya as they followed Justinian through the twisting corridors of rough-hewn limestone. The delay gave him just enough space to whisper without fear of being overheard. “Why did you tell him that? We’re here to ask him a favor, and now he’s expecting me to do something for him?”

  “Oh, and you were doing so well on your own? You’re lucky I was there to stop him!”

  The light from Justinian’s headlamp swept over them both as he turned his head. “Watch your step. There is water in the next room.”

  They entered a high-ceiling cavern that echoed with the sound of water falling in single droplets from the stalactites above to an underground lake that stretched into the distance. The sandy path dead-ended at the water’s edge.

  Justinian stopped. “I will have to fly you across, mortal.” He held out his hand. “Fear not.” Wings the color of old parchment bloomed from his back.

  Phoenix felt an illogical stab of jealousy. Damn all angels and their cursed gallantry.

  Raya stepped forward and took Justinian’s hand. She pa
tted it, then released it. “Thank you. But Phoenix needs the practice.”

  Phoenix’s jaw dropped. “I—what?”

  Justinian regarded Phoenix. “He is an untrustworthy fiend. Are you sure, madame?”

  Raya turned her gaze to him and her eyes glittered in the weird light of the cave. “Should I be sure, Phoenix?”

  Strange feelings flashed through Phoenix as he looked into her eyes. This was about more than just carrying her across a body of water.

  Justinian watched them both.

  Phoenix held her gaze. “Yes. You should. I carried you once, I’ll carry you again. I’ll never let you fall.” He swept her off her feet and into his arms so fast she squeaked.

  The angel nodded once, almost as if in approval, then took off and glided across the water.

  Phoenix unfolded his wings and followed, holding Raya tightly. They reached the other side. He set her down gently.

  Raya placed one hand on his cheek. “Thank you.” She turned to follow Justinian.

  Phoenix wanted to say something—anything—but his thoughts tripped over themselves and nothing came out. He hurried to catch up as they preceded him through a gap in the stone.

  A sharp turn revealed an arched opening made of weathered stone blocks.

  Justinian removed the headlamp and allowed it to transform into a flaming sword, providing radiant illumination as they entered a large chamber beyond the arch. He placed the sword into a grate, from which it shed flickering firelight over the room.

  Stone niches lined the walls, each filled with books stored in neat rows. A smooth-topped boulder served as a spartan table, its surface covered with more books and a few empty boxes from Justine’s bakery. A wooden rack, dark with age, held an assortment of dusty bottles.

  Justinian piled up the books on the table, each one releasing a puff of dust as it landed. “Forgive the mess. I have not had visitors in—”

  “Forever?” Raya ran her fingers over the bookshelves.

  Phoenix looked around for a place to sit and found a stone bier. He hopped up and sat with legs dangling. “It has a certain rustic charm.”

  Justinian gestured to a stone shaped like an ottoman. “Madame?”

  “Call me Raya, please.” She lowered herself to sit on the stone.