Wicked Love

by Lisa Manifold

  The feelings from the past—no! I stopped my thoughts. No. That wouldn’t happen again. I wasn’t that person. That wasn’t my life.

  I got into my car, hoping the smell didn’t get in to the cushions.

  Chapter Seven

  Melasina

  I fell back on the bed after I heard the front door close.

  “Well, that was exciting,” I heard from the floor.

  I sat back up. “You nearly blew it!” I said. “I had to cover for you when you made noise.”

  “Something hit me!” Zelda shot back. “What was I supposed to do, be quiet?”

  “Yes! It’s not like you have a body anymore!”

  “I have a skull. If it gets broken, I’m done for,” she said.

  “You know that for sure?” I asked.

  “Yes, chéri, I do.” There was no doubt in her voice. “Now please take me out of the bag.”

  I’d had to leave Zelda in the bag to get the bodies back to St. Louis No. 1 cemetery. I’d needed her help to float them along under a concealment spell. It didn’t sound like much, but it was a difficult piece of spell work to not only transport, but hide something at the same time.

  We’d gotten them back, though, and apparently, just in time. I’d heard Jasper on the phone. They’d found the bodies.

  I got up and threw on my tee shirt and shorts again. “Thank Goddess we moved them back,” I said, taking Zelda out of the bag.

  She sniffed. “Good thing you’re decent again. I take it that you don’t intend to marry that young man,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “In my day, those sorts of relations were for those who married, or those about to get married. But I’m guessing that may not be the case, since you let him walk out of here without a single promise,” Zelda said.

  “Things are a little different,” I agreed, smiling. “Besides, you didn’t see anything, Zelda.”

  “I might be old, and lacking a body, but I know what I heard. And yes, things are different, but not for the better!” she shot back.

  “I want to marry someone I love,” I said. “But that’s not a guarantee.”

  Zelda snorted. “Love. What does that do, other than make people take foolish steps?”

  “Well, if you married for love, maybe they wouldn’t have to take foolish steps?” I asked as I carried her toward the kitchen. “I think we left dirt in here.” Looking down, I saw the dirt in a clear trail. “Shit, we did, Zelda.”

  “Well, clean it up.” She was still frosty.

  I waved a hand, intending to send the dirt toward the door to the back.

  Nothing happened.

  I waved my hand again.

  “What are you waiting for, girl?” Zelda asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I’ve cast it twice, and nothing is happening.”

  “Oh, for Goddess’ sake,” Zelda grumbled. “Let me.”

  The dirt moved itself toward the door, pushing itself into a small pile.

  “There? See? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Let me try again.” I cast a spell to open the door.

  The door didn’t move.

  “I’m broken,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Zelda asked.

  “I can’t cast. Nothing I’ve cast since I’ve gotten up has worked.”

  “He took your magic along with your maidenhead!” Zelda shouted. “Never trust men with magic!”

  “Be quiet,” I hissed. “No one needs to hear your shouting. And he didn’t take my maidenhead.”

  Zelda was silent and then asked, “But did he take your magic?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hmmph,” she said. “No marriage, and you lose things. Nothing big, just your magic. Intimacy without promise is such a good idea.”

  “I don’t need shade from a skull,” I snapped back. “Let me think.”

  “He might have taken that too,” she grumbled.

  “Jasper didn’t take anything,” I said.

  “Then why—” Zelda stopped.

  “What?”

  “The curse,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Last night. At the ball. Where the mischief began. You fell on him, remember? I realize he’s sent you into some sort of physical haze, but you were at Magnolia House tonight, and a witch cast a spell? A curse, to be more specific?”

  “Goddess, that feels like ages ago,” I said. “I’d forgotten for a moment.” How could I think about anything else when I’d had the night I had? I’d never met anyone like Jasper. I’d never met anyone who made my clothes fall off and made me feel nothing but fabulous about it. Not ever. He was special.

  “Oh, no, he didn’t take a thing from you. Not your magic, your reason, your sense,” Zelda said.

  “What do you have against Jasper?” I asked, forgetting that earlier today, I’d had something against him as well.

  “He’s a man. And women are stronger witches. They want our magic. They always do,” Zelda muttered.

  “That may have been true before, but men and women work together now,” I said.

  “Hmmph,” Zelda said again. “So you think.”

  “We’ve had a man as the leader of our coven before,” I turned the skull toward me. Strangely, it didn’t even feel weird to be talking a skull anymore.

  “Well, he wasn’t ever as good as the women,” Zelda said.

  “That’s a serious bias you’ve got going on,” I said. “And I’m not going to argue with you. Jasper didn’t steal my magic.”

  “Who’s the elder here?” Zelda snapped. “It won’t ever be you if you don’t open your eyes!”

  I laughed. “Oh, Zelda, it was never going to be me.”

  “Anyone can be an elder, if they live long enough,” she said. “What do you mean?”

  Setting the skull on the kitchen table, I told her the whole tale of my mother while I made a pot of coffee—the necromancy, her exile, and her death.

  “No wonder you are distressed, chéri.”

  “No shit,” I said.

  “Was there ever any sign of the necromancy in your family prior to this?”

  I shook my head, even though I wasn’t sure she could see me. “No. We were model citizens.”

  “How odd, that it should pop up in such a manner. Normally, it takes one necromancer to train another.”

  A chill ran through me.

  “Were you aware of your mother’s friends?” Zelda asked. The question sucked although her tone was kind. It was the same question Jasper had asked. But I answered Zelda.

  “No. I was ten. I was bitching about history lessons at Magnolia House and trying to practice magic on the sly.”

  “What did your father say?”

  I laughed, although there was no humor in the sound. “My dad? He shut himself away, shamed to death over his scandalous wife.”

  “What about you, chéri?” Zelda asked quietly.

  “I got a nanny, and he got a new job.” My voice was flat.

  “I am so sorry,” Zelda said. “Your father didn’t come out of his grief to care for you. So you have cared for yourself. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “Proud of what? I haven’t done a thing! I’ve been so scared, so afraid to be tarred with the same brush as my mom, even though I’m always going to be tarred with that brush! I haven’t done anything wrong!” I shouted, throwing up my hands and stomping over to the window to glare out into my small courtyard. “And yet the minute bodies are missing, where does the coven look? Right here at that Cormier girl. Necromancer mom, you know.”

  “Well, you did take the bodies,” Zelda said.

  “That’s beside the point,” I snapped. “They didn’t know that.”

  Zelda was silent, and then she said, “Since we have returned the bodies, there is no evidence left in your home. And perhaps you are correct, the man didn’t steal from you. It might have been the curse.”
r />   “I don’t remember what the curse said,” I told her. “How do you know it was a curse?”

  “Well, you said she was banished from the coven for dark magic?”

  “Yes,” I’d told her as we were moving the bodies out of my shed.

  “Do you think it likely she showed up to share a blessing with her former coven?”

  “No,” I said slowly. “You’re probably right.”

  “Tomorrow, we need to find out the exact wording of the curse.”

  “Or?” I asked.

  “Or I shall remain convinced that it was the pleasure of the body that has stolen away your power,” Zelda said formally.

  I stared at her for a moment, and then my eye caught the dirt. The same dirt that Jasper had been brushing off his feet when he came back from the bathroom. Goddess save me, I hope he didn’t think anything other than I’m a crap housekeeper. I did not need him nosing around. Not when he was already asking about my mom.

  And he thought she might be alive! I shook my head. I supposed the library had to take in all reports, but this one was such a whopper.

  “What?” asked Zelda.

  “Let’s go check the laundry shed,” I said, picking her up. “Jasper stepped in some of the dirt we left. Might as well get rid of it.” Together with my friend the skull, I went into the shed, and Zelda used a dusting spell to get the last of the grave dirt out. Then she and I went back into the house. I poured a cup of coffee, adding in cream.

  “You should sleep, chéri,” Zelda said.

  “I know, but I’m all wound up.”

  “Nothing that you do tonight will make a difference. The man we disagree over is not going to return—”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  She made a noise that sounded like a snort.

  “All right, whatever.” I got up, tucking her under my arm, and went back to my room. I put the coffee on the nightstand, and went to my office to find Zelda’s reliquary.

  “Bring me into your room,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to be in here on my own. I’ve had quite enough alone time,” Zelda said.

  “Fine.” I put her skull back in, and carried the whole thing to my room. She went on the chest on the other side of my bed.

  I got into bed, and finished my coffee. Caffeine notwithstanding, as I sat in bed going over the evening. I kept moving back and forth between the idea that my mom was alive, and the amazing sex I’d had with Jasper. It was literally the best sex ever. I mean, ever. He was thoughtful, but in control and I found that I liked it.

  Normally, I hated anyone attempting to direct or control me. So much of my life had been directed by things I hadn’t done, and people who weren’t me. But with Jasper—something about him made me feel safe to let him be in control.

  Just thinking about it made my panties wet again. I rubbed my legs together, wishing he was here for round two.

  I hoped he’d call.

  I hoped we’d covered our tracks with the bodies well enough.

  I hoped my mom was alive.

  Well, two out of three wouldn’t be so bad, would it? I set the now-empty cup on the nightstand and turned out the light.

  “Night, Zelda.”

  “Goodnight, Melasina,” she said.

  “Thanks for your help today.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  We both were silent, and I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

  I wasn’t awake, and I wasn’t asleep, but I was… aware. I was in a hallway. Creamy walls, dark wood, and paintings lined the walls. I could hear footsteps ahead of me, and I followed. We moved down, and I recognized where we were.

  The crypts.

  Runes both carved and burned, covered the thick wooden doors. A man in front of me held out his hand. After a long moment, the heavy wooden doors opened.

  There were candles all throughout the room. In alcoves, I could see chests made of glass and gold, relics, and vials of all shapes and sizes.

  The man walked through the doors, and I drifted behind. He stopped, shook himself almost like a dog coming out of the water, and looked around. I ducked behind the edge of the doorway.

  After a moment, I heard his footsteps again. He moved slowly, like… like he was looking for something.

  Then I heard an intake of breath, and the scrape of glass against stone. The footsteps quickened, and I ducked around the edge of the door again, hoping not to be discovered. He came out of the room, and after looking around, walked away, nearly running. He was tucking something into his coat pocket.

  The heavy doors of the crypt remained open. I waited for what seemed an eternity and then walked through them. I could see the glitter of the relics throughout the crypt.

  “No, chéri, come over here.”

  I went to the glass box that sat at the far end of the room.

  “Take this one with you,” I heard.

  Nodding, I tucked the box under my arm, and turned and left the room.

  I sat up, heart pounding, feeling the sweat from my—dream?—on my neck and chest. “Zelda!” I hissed.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Zelda!” I said, louder this time.

  “What?”

  “You told me to take you,” I said.

  “What?” She was awake now.

  “You told me to take you.”

  “You remember?”

  “I do,” I said, not wanting to admit I’d seen it in a dream. And I’d seen a man, who’d gone in and stolen something from the crypt before me. I didn’t know him. It wasn’t Jasper, or any of the men from the coven.

  Then I pushed him aside. He wasn’t my problem at this point.

  She sighed. “I did. I was tired of being in there.”

  “Why didn’t you ask the man to take you with him?”

  “He wasn’t looking for me,” she said.

  “How could you tell?”

  “You can tell these things.”

  “Does that mean I was looking for you?”

  “You were searching for something, Melasina. I decided that it might as well be me.”

  “What if it was something else?” I asked, feeling frustration rise within me. What if it was something that explained what the hell was going on with me?

  “If it was something in the crypt, you would have never been allowed access to it. The things stored in the crypt are not for common usage. They are to be used only with the permission and guidance of the coven leaders, or the elders.”

  “Hmmph,” I used the same sort of noise she’d used on me earlier.

  “Nothing in there would be of use to you,” Zelda said, her voice firm. “Trust me on this.”

  “So why’d you pick yourself?”

  “Well, in truth, I was tired of being in there alone. And whatever problems you were having, I could help you.”

  “You were so sure?” I asked.

  “Haven’t I?” she replied.

  “Yes, you have,” I admitted.

  “Good. Now go back to sleep.”

  “Who was the man?”

  “He wasn’t part of our coven. He was something… more,” she said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like. Something more.”

  “Thank Goddess tomorrow is Saturday.” I changed the subject, realizing she wasn’t going to say anything more about the man.

  “What does that mean?” Zelda asked.

  “It means I don’t have to get up. So don’t go yelling unless it’s an emergency.”

  This time, when I closed my eyes, I didn’t dream. Or at least, I didn’t dream of the crypt. The darkness took me and I remembered no more.

  Chapter Eight

  Jasper

  I made my way home, sniffing audibly. I couldn’t smell myself. Which was something I never thought I’d have to think. But I’d smelled Lavinia after I cast a spell on her, and she was ripe.

  Which meant that I was too.

  H
ow in the fuck did you get off magical skunk stink? I had no idea.

  When I got home, I stripped off my clothes, bagging them in a trash bag and tossing it out on my back porch, tightly tied.

  Then I got into the shower. As the hot water hit my back, I felt the sting of small scratches. From Melasina. The thought made me smile.

  I climbed into bed and tried to sleep. When I woke the next morning, it felt like a dump truck had come and parked on me. I was sore and tired, and I felt like ass.

  I went to the shower again, determined to scrub the stench off me. I almost used magic again before I caught myself. Last night, I’d been thinking about Talia. Today, I thought about Melasina.

  She was the one good thing that had come out of last night. Although how was I going to tell anyone about her? A chill rolled through me, even as I stood in the nearly scalding shower. I knew what people thought of her, of her family. We hadn’t made the grave disturbances public, and with the bodies back, there was no need to. But Melasina was still a Cormier.

  And I hated to be the focus of any attention, good or bad. Especially not bad.

  All my life, I’d been the good kid. The one who studied, who did all the work asked of me. I volunteered around Magnolia House, and then got an apprenticeship at the library when I was seventeen. I’d already been working and living at the library for almost two years. That was because of Talia Dumond, who had been the Head Librarian.

  She’d found me, trained me, and helped me to find my place within the coven.

  Unlike Melasina, who had an old, if somewhat tarnished family name, my parents were what was politely termed tacky. My mother was the witch, and she’d never stopped being a witch, although when she married my dad, she kept it under wraps. But she used magic to clean the house, and make dinner, and later, to make her drinks.

  It was what had killed her. Oh, alcoholism was the listed cause of death, but I saw how she made her drinks. She’d gotten drunk, used her magic to make another one, and made it too strong. She’d taken pills. And that had been it.

  My father had left long before that. He never did know she was a witch, but he knew something was off. Not quite right. Well, for his world. Not for ours. The world of the covens.