Imani kneeled down and set Lucifer on the floor, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”
He was sorry too, but only because he couldn’t stay with her to protect her from this man and other Fae.
Abigail had been kidnapped against her will by the Raven Court. Imani wasn’t even being coerced. She went willingly, innocently believing this was for the best.
Lucifer eyed her unzipped suitcase. He could jump inside when no one was looking so that he could hide as a stowaway until they reached their destination.
“Don’t even think about it,” Elric said.
Lucifer’s shoulders slumped. He could find another way to be with Imani and protect her, but if he pursued this line of action, it meant he would be leaving Gertrude Periwinkle. She had been the one Witchkin so far who had both the interest and skill to assist him.
He prowled back and forth, considering whom it was better to remain with. Imani’s magic helped charge him better than other Witchkin—at least platonically—but she was a student who hadn’t learned advanced magics. If he stayed with her, she would protect him, and he would protect her.
But he didn’t think she would be able to help him break his curse. He wouldn’t be able to turn into a man and help Abigail if he remained a cat. Reluctantly he stepped aside as the Fae man took up Imani’s suitcase and ushered her away.
Lucifer hoped he was making the right decision.
CHAPTER EIGHT
American Werecat in Paris
Gertrude Periwinkle had a bowl of milk waiting for him that evening in her office as she repaired textbooks with glue that smelled of lavender. He supposed a bowl of milk meant she had bad news, since she seemed educated enough to know he wasn’t supposed to be drinking milk. He lapped it up, savoring the treat while it lasted. He could never say no to human food, even if it was as simple as milk.
Gertrude waited until he was finished before crouching to pet him. “You mentioned Vega Bloodmire in your note. I’ve been speaking with her about your situation and how she accomplished changing you into a human previously.” She looked him up and down. “I take it that was before she was engaged to Prince Elric of the Silver Court?”
He shrugged. He didn’t keep up with Vega’s love life.
“I’m not Amani Plandai, nor have I ever had the inclination to learn magic for transforming into an animal.” There was a hint of disdain in her voice as she spoke, reminding him of Vega. “However, I am a Merlin-class Celestor, one of the most advanced in my affinity. I am fully capable of learning. We have about twenty days until the next full moon. That gives me sufficient time to study during the summer holiday.”
It also gave him plenty of time to store up his magic. It would be more difficult without Imani and her friends to pet him and help him build up his affinity, but this was a start.
* * *
Lucifer thought that when summer vacation started, Gertrude would devote her time to assisting him break his curse. Instead she was busy checking in class sets of library books and repairing texts that had been burned, damaged by water, or were falling apart.
One day after hunting mice in the abandoned wing of the school, he noticed the scent of a man on Gertrude. It wasn’t just on her skin and clothes, but in her room as well. He couldn’t tell who the man was, other than he was likely to be an adult from the sophisticated cologne and spicy magic that hinted at someone skilled enough to use advanced potions. He rolled across her bed, trying to soak up any excess sex energy, though he caught very little of it.
If only he’d known there would be a librarian sexcapade. He would have been able to catch some of her sexual energy before it dissipated and used it to fuel himself to return to being human. Then again, one dose of sexual energy had worked after Felix and Clarissa’s magic moment in the Morty Realm. They were Red affinities. He didn’t know whether Gertrude’s siren affinity worked as potently.
When Gertrude finally did put work into researching how to shift into an animal, she spent all her time reading books. She hardly petted him at all. The full moon was quickly approaching, and he didn’t think either of them were prepared.
It was most vexing.
Less than a week before the full moon, Gertrude announced, “I have a vacation planned in Paris for three weeks. While I’m there, I intend to go to an old bookseller who sells rare books. Are you interested in coming with me?”
Lucifer didn’t want to go to Paris, but he didn’t want to be left alone at the school during the summer either. He sighed in resignation. He had places to go, people to see, and his princess to rescue.
It would be a full moon soon, and he hoped Gertrude would break his curse by then. Abigail needed him.
* * *
For once, Gertrude left her witch hat in her room, but that didn’t mean she blended in. Even with her modest attire in charcoal grays and blacks, she stood out among the tourists. She dressed like someone’s grandmother with her conservative attire, high-necked blouses, and ankle-length skirts. Unlike an old woman, she was young and beautiful, her eyes wide with wonder as she carried Lucifer around Paris with her.
Abigail had always taken care to blend in with Morties, to adopt their language and customs, to dress like one of them, and to keep her magic secret. She hadn’t wanted to be seen as different or an easy mark.
Gertrude stood out like a flower among thorns, her beauty so radiant people stopped to gaze at her. Her attire was so out of place among the women in shorts and tank tops and tourists in modern attire that a Fae might recognize her for what she was and follow her.
Which would have been fine if a Fae followed her—so long as she didn’t break their laws and resort to magic. Unfortunately, Gertrude did.
* * *
Lucifer had expected Gertrude would be staying in a hotel like most people when they went on vacation. Apparently, this wasn’t what witches did. After transporting herself to Paris with magic and using a portal, she found a supply closet in a shady apartment and charmed the door to take her back to her room.
He suspected her room was no longer located inside Womby’s School for Wayward Witches. The sky had been bright with daylight when she’d left Womby’s, but dark when she’d arrived in France. After enchanting a supply closet and turning it into a portal to take her back to her room, Lucifer eyed the darkened skylight. The stars twinkling above were all wrong.
He suspected they weren’t in Kansas anymore—or more specifically—not in the Unseen Realm, the Witchkin territory where the school was hidden from Morties.
He noticed she was very careful in how she used magic. She kept her spells subtle and unable to be detected by Morties. She took extra care to ward her enchantments to keep them invisible to Fae. Her protective spells were strong, up to the same level as Felix’s and Vega’s.
The only problem was her blatant use of magic in public.
He wouldn’t have known she was endangering herself if she hadn’t carried him in her giant purse with her as she perused Paris. At a café, she batted her eyelashes at a waiter and in perfect French asked, “Are you certain this is the correct price? I think you may have overcharged me.”
Her voice turned to honey and silk and relaxed Lucifer into complacency, even though he wasn’t the intended recipient of her magic. The siren lull of her voice was like music, and the waiter leaned in, his eyes drunk with desire.
The waiter left, and Gertrude lessened her magic. Lucifer huffed. Abigail would never have used magic for personal gain. Even in those times when she had been too poor to afford food, she wouldn’t have magically manipulated Morties into giving her free meals. Abigail was guileless and spoke from the heart.
He could only imagine how the Raven Court would use that to their advantage. He didn’t know what she would be like once she emerged from their castle. She might be so traumatized she would never be herself again. Lucifer fidgeted in Gertrude’s bag, restless with anxiety.
Gertrude used her magic on Morties to
avoid paying for food, but also to get into museums for free, to walk through walls to avoid waiting in lines, and to reduce the price for new clothes. Lucifer didn’t want her to influence people so that he could remain with her as she entered art galleries or restaurants, but he had no way to tell her other than acting out. If he resorted to that, she might leave him in some Morty city and abandon him because she didn’t like him yowling or clawing at her.
It was bad enough she was immoral, but she was also careless. She used this magic out in the open where any Fae could witness it.
Usually she remembered to ward herself, but not always. She was an accident waiting to happen.
Lucifer needed to tell her how careless she was. It wasn’t just herself she was endangering, but him as well. He would never free himself and find Abigail if this was the guardian he was stuck with. His inability to communicate this further irritated him.
He didn’t like the way the pigeons watched them as she went sightseeing. When Gertrude was enjoying a latte at an outdoor café, he leapt out of her purse and massacred a group of pigeons.
For all he knew, they might have been Fae spies. Though, in truth, they tasted too delicious to be Fae.
“Was that truly necessary?” she asked.
After that, every time he sensed she might be tempted to use magic, he yowled or extended his claws, trying to signal to her that he wanted her attention. He was attempting to remind her to ward herself. But Gertrude was ignorant to his gestures and body language. He hadn’t spent thirty years with her as he had with Abigail.
Over and over he was reminded she wasn’t Abigail.
The following day, Gertrude told him she was leaving him in her room while she went to the bookstore.
Her lips turned down with displeasure as she eyed him. “They don’t allow pets, and even if they did, people want good pets. Not ones that yowl or threaten customers.”
He didn’t threaten. He followed through with his promises of scratching people’s faces. Especially men in museums who leered at Gertrude and looked as if they might grope her.
He wasn’t completely surprised when she brought a man back to her room. The man smelled of exotic flowers and earth rich with decaying plant matter. A hint of animal wafted in the air around him, the scent of magic suggesting a shifter. Perhaps a werewolf.
Gertrude didn’t even have the decency to kick Lucifer out into the hallway so that he wouldn’t have to listen to the sounds of their carnal passions. Abigail had always ensured he was outside the bedroom when she spent time with her late husband. On the other hand, being in the room was actually to Lucifer’s benefit.
He hunkered down under the bed, absorbing as much of their excess magic as he could. Neither were like Clarissa and Felix with Red affinities that only took one round of lovemaking to break Lucifer’s curse. Upon Gertrude’s third bout of recreational activities with the stranger, Lucifer felt the change inside him.
His skin prickled as if his fur couldn’t make up its mind whether it wanted to grow or recede. Every muscle in his body cramped, including his stomach. He raced out from under the bed and made it to the litter box in the bathroom before he was sick. At least he made it this time, unlike when he’d transformed in Abigail’s closet.
Lucifer lay curled up in the bathtub, shivering as fever and chills coursed through him. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he realized he was cramped by the confines and didn’t fit very well. He was too groggy to even feel success over his change.
Lucifer shifted the litter box out of the tub so it wouldn’t get wet and took a hot shower. The caress of the water invigorated him and banished the desire to sleep.
Gertrude and her current lover were silent in the other room. When Lucifer emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, he found her asleep beside a dark-skinned man who might have been a Spaniard. The man had a five o’clock shadow that Gertrude probably found rakish. Lucifer thought he looked shady, his expression smug and devious even in slumber.
Gertrude was gorgeous in sleep with her hair mussed. She wore no makeup and used no glamour. Her allure was a combination of physical perfection and the siren magic she couldn’t camouflage. Desire rose in Lucifer just gazing at her.
He sat down at the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder. He kept his voice low so that he wouldn’t wake her guest. “Gertrude, I changed back.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she curled around him. “That’s nice.”
That void inside him seemed to grow bigger. She didn’t even care. Abigail would have cared.
“I’m human, but I don’t know how long it will last.” Gazing at her perfect pink lips, he wouldn’t have minded fueling himself this way with her. Guilt raked through him a moment later. Abigail was the only woman he wanted. She was the reason he needed to be a man.
He hated making himself vulnerable and speaking about his affinity so freely, but it was necessary for Gertrude to understand. “I need to fuel my incubus magic so I can stay this way.”
“I bet you do,” she said into her pillow.
“I need you to get rid of this mutton head so that you can make love to me.” His voice came out a growl, his annoyance oozing through.
The man in the bed beside Gertrude stirred but didn’t wake.
When she still didn’t rise, he bit her exposed neck. She gasped, and her heart lurched. She was fully awake now. Her fingers twined through his long hair, and she yanked his face to hers to kiss him.
When she at last broke away, gasping for breath, her eyes were alert. She smoothed a hand over his cheek. “You look so much like him. It’s uncanny.”
Lucifer felt his forehead crinkle up in confusion. “Who?” He hoped she didn’t mean his brother.
She sat up and pushed back the blankets. “I’ll be right back.” Her voice was sweet and melodic.
Lucifer felt himself sinking into the notes of music that careened through the space between them. She sauntered to the bathroom, her hips swaying to a rhythm that seemed to match his heartbeat. She smiled coquettishly over her shoulder and winked at him.
Without clothes to hide her figure, Gertrude resembled a naked Barbie doll with exaggerated feminine proportions that sexualized the female body. Abigail hadn’t wanted her girls to play with Barbies because they perpetuated negative stereotypes young women wouldn’t be able to attain.
Somehow Gertrude had attained that figure.
Even after Gertrude had closed the bathroom door, Lucifer couldn’t stop staring at the spot where she’d been. She had undressed in front of him plenty of times without shame. His cat body hadn’t found her particularly interesting. He was more entranced when she invited him to curl up on her lap as she read a book and she stroked his fur.
“Who are you?” a man asked, speaking with a thick French accent.
Lucifer jolted back into himself, the siren allure fading as he took in Gertrude’s guest on the bed beside him.
The stranger rubbed his eyes and yawned. He was covered in almost enough body hair that he could have passed for a balding sasquatch. The man didn’t look particularly disturbed that a stranger twice his body weight was looming over him, naked save for a towel.
Lucifer considered what answer might drive Gertrude’s lover out of the room the fastest. Probably if he pretended to be her jealous lover. No, better yet, her enraged husband.
“I’m Abigail’s husband,” Lucifer said coolly.
“Who’s Abigail? Is she a friend of Gertrude?”
Ugh. Lucifer couldn’t believe that Freudian slip had made it out of his mouth. Obviously, he didn’t have complete control of his mental faculties as a man yet.
“I’m Antoine.” The man stretched, the movement as sinuous as a cat.
Lucifer didn’t introduce himself. “When are you leaving?”
Antoine laughed. “Why would I leave? The evening is still young, and my passion is endless.”
Lucifer’s
lips curled back. A growl sounded low in his throat.
Antoine chuckled. “I’m a werejaguar. What kind of shifter are you?” He sniffed at Lucifer.
“None of your business.” Lucifer edged back. “I’m going to give you thirty seconds to get out of this bed and leave.”
Gertrude’s singsong voice came from behind him. “Lucy, play nice.” She sauntered up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Antoine’s eyes widened. “This is your friend Lucy? I thought this Lucy was a female.”
Gertrude laughed. “You didn’t!”
“You told him about me?” Lucifer asked.
Gertrude laid a palm on his chest. “I just told him you were a shifter who couldn’t change back.”
Some of Lucifer’s fury melted away. Warm tingles of complacency rushed through him. He leaned against Gertrude’s hand, inhaling her fragrance of spring water and starlight. Her magic was almost powerful enough to wash away the scent of sexual activity, but not quite.
Gertrude sat down on the edge of the bed. “I met Antoine yesterday at the bookstore. We had a stimulating conversation about shifters and curses—like the Sleeping Beauty Curse. It didn’t take much to convince him to come back home with me to meet you.” Gertrude’s grin grew sheepish. “I suppose we got a little distracted when we arrived. One thing led to another, and here we are. It seems like everything worked out in your favor.”
Gertrude was a dangerous witch, not because she was cruel like Baba, but because she could bend Lucifer so easily to her will. He wasn’t sure how much of his desire for her was her sex goddess beauty and how much was because she had bewitched him with a spell.
Nor did he particularly care.
“I need to charge my magic so that I can remain human,” Lucifer said.
Gertrude’s face brightened with excitement. “Oh goody! I’ve always wanted to have two men in my bed at once.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed at Antoine. He had no interest in this stranger. The sooner he left, the better. Gertrude batted her eyelashes at him.
Lucifer’s growl turned into a purr. Damn it! She was manipulating him with magic. They were going to need to set boundaries and have a serious discussion about this.
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