Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble, a Paranormal Romance

by H. P. Mallory

Rand seemed as disinterested in seeing wax figures as I did. He smiled and feigned ignorance, keeping his eyes on the road like a good driver.

  “See if Jolie might want to go.”

  I frowned, but tried to keep my aggravation in check.

  “Let’s see how much time we have.”

  We were on a tight schedule and hopefully, that would be my alibi. Rand had said we’d be in London for the weekend—for our grand meeting with the creatures who might team up with us against the evil legacy that was Bella. I wanted to get our meeting over and done with, so I could get back to the safety of my little house where no one would bug me, and I could drown away thoughts of Rand and Trent with some good ale.

  We arrived in front of an ornate townhouse in what I learned was the most expensive area of London, Kensington Square. So, not only did the stupid woman have claim to Rand’s heart, but she was rich on top of it.

  When it rains, it pours.

  Rand parked in front of the three-story, white Victorian mansion and faced me expectantly.

  “We’re here.”

  I managed a smile and undid my seatbelt in record-breaking time, record-breaking slow time. Christa, on the other hand, hopped out of the car, alight with non-stop chatter and buzzed about me like an insistent mosquito.

  “Are we going to dinner?” I asked with a frown.

  Rand shook his head. “Gwynn said she had something prepared.”

  Oh, even better. Now I’d have to suffer through the flirting, the lustful eyes and all in the less-than-humble abode where the Gwynn-Rand seduction was taking place.

  Vo-mit.

  I followed Rand and Christa up the numerous steps. He knocked on the door, and I could hear the soft pitter-patter of heels on hardwood from inside. Then she opened the door.

  That was when I realized Christa hadn’t been forthcoming in her description of the witch; Gwynn was beautiful. She was taller than I was and thinner and that was as far as I’d let myself make a comparison.

  “Rand!” Gwynn said with an Eastern-European accent. She engulfed him in a hug and kissed both of his cheeks. He responded in kind.

  “Gwynn, this is Christa,” Rand said, introducing Christa first as I was lollygagging behind them. He took hold of my shoulder and encouraged me forward.

  “And this is Jolie.” There was a certain note of pride that accompanied his voice… I think.

  “Charmed,” Gwynn said with a smile and opened the door wide, granting us entrance. I smiled as best I could and took in her long platinum blonde hair, wide hazel eyes, Nicole Kidman nose and instantly was depressed again.

  She led us to her dining room and en route, I noticed the ridiculously high ceilings, the ornate crown molding, the priceless art and sculptures (I imagined they were priceless, but I’m not an art connoisseur, so what do I know) and the heavy velvet of the curtains.

  Taking my seat at the expansive dining table, Christa took the one next to me. Gwynn, of course, sat next to Rand, and I had to unclench my teeth, lest I appear to have lockjaw. Like something out of a movie, Gwynn picked up a small silver bell and rang twice. No sooner did she put the bell back on the table than a flurry of servants entered the room and began filling glasses, offering hors d’oeuvres and generally making themselves useful.

  My attention returned to Gwynn and Rand. Thank God, they displayed no sort of affection with one another in front of us; that would’ve been enough for me to lose my lunch. They were very matter-of-fact, instead, and one would never have known they had any sort of romantic affiliation.

  “How many people will be there tomorrow night?” Christa asked.

  Rand shrugged and glanced at Gwynn.

  “I believe the count is one hundred fifty?”

  Gwynn nodded. “Not bad, but we’ll need to expand our numbers if we’re to go up against Bella. One thing we can promise those who do join is that we can bring back their fallen compatriots.”

  It took me a second for this to sink in, and then it dawned on me: who’d be the person bringing back the fallen?

  “So, that’s where I come in?” I asked, sounding less than enthusiastic.

  “You’re our secret weapon, Jolie,” Rand said.

  I frowned, thinking they had a better chance with a gun, some silver bullets, a cross and maybe Van Helsing.

  “That sounds like a huge number of creatures to bring back. Do you think I’m capable of that?” I asked, clearly thinking “no” was the answer.

  “It will be very time consuming, but it’s imperative you do this,” Gwynn answered, and her tone was one a parent would use with a child. My hands curled in my lap as if they were so affronted by the tone that they couldn’t help but wither in disgust.

  “Where do I sign up?” I asked with facetious smirk.

  Gwynn ignored me and cemented the fact that neither of us cared for the other. I could see it clearly in her ash hazel eyes. I only wondered if she could see my feelings for Rand as clearly in mine.

  She turned to Rand and plastered a smile on her lips.

  “I’m pleased you’ll have the opportunity to meet Ryder, finally.”

  “I’ve heard much of him and look forward to it.”

  Christa wore her confusion. “Ryder?”

  Rand nodded. "Ryder is a vampire. He’s Gwynn’s creator.”

  “There is a very special relationship between a vampire and his brethren. The bond is a strong one,” Gwynn explained although no one had asked her.

  “Oh,” Christa said, nodding as if she had a clue as to what Gwynn was talking about. I had to hide my smile.

  “Ryder has decided to throw in his lot with us,” Rand continued before facing Gwynn again. “I look forward to finally meeting him.”

  Gwynn just batted her cow eyelashes at him. Rand’s mouth quirked into a grin—one that seemed aimed at Gwynn alone.

  This was going to be a long goddamned night.

  #

  The next day passed by slowly, and I found that Christa and I were left to our own defenses as Rand and Gwynn planned for the festivities of the evening. When the night of the “Halloween Rally” as Christa dubbed it, was upon us, I wanted nothing more than to get it over and done with.

  “I wonder what demons look like,” Christa said as she donned her flame red lipstick, gazing at her reflection in the mirror of my hotel room.

  “Well, you’ll find out soon enough,” I answered, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from my evening gown. Apparently, the creatures of the Underworld took public appearances seriously; this evening was a black tie event. I was dressed in a black satin, strapless gown that was so long, I knew I’d trip on it before the night was through. My hair was fastened in a chignon at my neck and felt about as tight as the damned dress.

  “How do I look?” Christa asked as she turned to face me. Her red evening gown hugged her curves and ended just below her knees. I was the short one and Rand had stuck me with the long-ass gown, now tell me that makes any sort of sense?

  “Great.”

  “Rand did a good job of picking these dresses out for us,” she continued, prancing around as though she were a princess.

  I didn’t agre with her as I thought my boobs were going to come popping out of my top any second. I guess I didn’t much like getting dressed up…period.

  “I wish I could at least have a shorter dress.”

  Of course, I was pleased that I probably looked better than I’d ever looked. Especially with the prospect of reuniting with Trent this evening.

  Christa turned her attention to me and frowned.

  “You look so beautiful, Jules. Try to snap out of your depression. Think about how many eligible bachelors will be there tonight. We’re going to meet all the big wigs of the Underworld, and now that you’re single, you can have any one of them!”

  Christa would have made a very good motivational speaker, I thought, but I wasn’t concerned with eligible bachelors. I was dreading the whole night—dreading having to see Trent again, dreading having to see Rand
with Gwynn, dreading the whole crappy thing.

  “You ready?” Christa asked.

  “I guess so.”

  I followed her out the door, finding it difficult to walk—the dress was so tight, it only allowed for Barbie-doll sized steps. At least the stupid party was in our hotel and wouldn’t require any traveling to get there.

  “I wonder if this will be fun?” Christa asked as she pressed the call button on the elevator.

  “I doubt it.”

  Christa smiled sadly and dropped her gaze as we stepped in the elevator. We didn’t stop at any floors along the way down and arrived on the ground floor within seconds. I took a deep breath and attempted to gather my courage for the evening. It was going to take a load of it.

  “Here goes.” Christa opened the door to the reception room, and the sound of mingled laughter and soft music met us.

  One hundred and fifty creatures of the night in one room is a bit overwhelming. Auras of all colors created quite a rainbow, and there was a stirring in the evening air that bespoke of the magic within the walls.

  We weaved our way through the crowd. A couple parted in front of us, and my eyes met Rand’s. He was sitting at the head table, wearing a black tuxedo that hugged his muscled body and acted like acid on my heart. I gave him a small nod as I settled in the chair next to him. His scent enfolded me with its notes of cardamom and man. I breathed deeply, trying to concentrate on Christa’s mindless chatter.

  Rand and Gwynn had done a good job organizing the whole thing, and if I’d been an outsider looking in, I would’ve thought someone was having a wedding reception. There were fourteen tables, all covered with white linens. Apparently, this was going to be a dinner service as place settings decorated the tables and included nametags for each creature. My nametag said: Jolie Wilkins, Witch. How original.

  “Hey,” Christa nudged me in the side. “Did you hear me?”

  “What?”

  Christa frowned. “I said, does it look like I have deodorant stains? I didn’t notice it in the room, but now it looks like…”

  I tried to pay attention to Christa’s deodorant stains, but had my own ADD moment. My attention centered on the table before me which included Rand, Gwynn, Christa and two people I didn’t recognize. One was an elderly man, and upon seeing his nametag, I learned he was Grimsley Jones, a warlock who controlled Sweden, Finland and Norway. Sitting beside him was Ryder Colden, the swarthy vampire who’d turned Gwynn and who’d already committed himself to joining Rand’s ranks.

  As soon as my gaze landed on Ryder’s wide and unattractive face, my pulse quickened and the breath in my nose ran back down my throat. There was something about him—he was vile—in everything from his face to his clothes to his body language. I’m not sure why, but I was terrified of him.

  My gaze shifted to Gwynn who sat very closely to Ryder and must have had poor eyesight because she clung to his every movement as if he were beauty personified. The thought of becoming some sort of half vampire was not in the least appealing, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was involved in such an ordeal. One thing that was clear was there was some sort of special relationship between turner and turnee. Gwynn treated Ryder with an admiration and awe that she bestowed on no one else. Ryder didn’t seem as intrigued with her, though, and regarded her and the rest of the room with indifference, boredom even. I decided I didn’t much care for Ryder.

  Rand stood at the head table, a microphone in his hand. It seemed he was waiting for all the late stragglers to find their seats.

  “Look who’s here,” Christa whispered in my ear and jabbed me in the ribs. I turned in the direction she was pointing.

  My heart dropped as I recognized Trent, the bastard, and who should be on his arm, but Anne? The two of them were enough to make me spit fire. I jerked my gaze away and met Ryder’s eyes. The bastard actually smirked, cocking a brow. I figured my history with Trent was obvious by the expression on my face. Ryder resumed his bored expression and looked away as a rush of heat claimed my face. I hadn’t even been introduced to the vampire, and he was already mocking me and my past relationships? Yes, I definitely didn’t care for Ryder.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Rand began, and the room quieted. “I’m certain you all know why you are here and how important it is to keep Bella from building an army that will eventually come after all of us.”

  If I hadn’t realized Rand was a well-respected warlock in the Underworld community, I realized it now—the room hanging on his every word.

  “Word has spread there’s a new witch under your protection?” A fat man with no aura asked. He must have been a vampire.

  Rand nodded and turned in my direction. “I was waiting to uncover our newest addition to my coven, but now is as good a time as ever. Jolie, will you please stand?”

  Christa squeezed my hand as I got to my feet, feeling like livestock at auction.

  “This is Jolie Wilkins,” Rand continued. And the rumors you’ve heard about her incredible powers are all true. Jolie has the unique ability to reanimate the dead.”

  There was a round of oohs and aahs and heat went straight to my face. Just as I was about to take my seat again, there was another comment from the crowd.

  “We’ve heard she’s a new witch.”

  Great, I thought. This was when the second-guessing started.

  “She is a new witch, but that doesn’t change her incredible gift,” Rand responded, steeling my strength with an emphatic smile.

  I had to admit I was proud of him—he was an excellent public speaker and answered all questions with eloquence and informed persuasion.

  “How many has she reanimated?” Another audience member threw out.

  So, now, I’d have to stand here and pretend that I wasn’t extremely uncomfortable as they tried to disprove my credibility.

  “Two,” I answered, to which there was much discussion among the room and feeling as if I couldn’t stand trial any longer, I took my seat with a great deal of disdain.

  “Quiet!”

  No sooner did I sit down then I heard a voice I distinctly recognized, and I raised my head. Trent.

  “I was dead,” he started and looked straight at me. I diverted my attention, feigning interest in the silverware.

  “She brought me back. I’m living proof of her abilities.”

  There was more discussion from the crowd and Trent sat down. Rand took control of the audience and made it known I’d be very available to answer any questions at the end of the dinner service. But I was barely aware of his speech. My stomach churned, my head ached, and I wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

  This was going to be the never-ending night; I could see it already, and now I’d have to answer a bunch of inane questions when all I wanted was the solitude of my house and the company of my cat.

  “I didn’t realize you was the witch,” Ryder said, his gaze settling on my bust.

  Apparently, not all vampires could speak the Queen’s English, I thought and smiled to myself. For as much as I disliked Ryder from the start, sensing his holier-than-thou attitude, his diction bothered me all the more.

  I thought of saying something rude, but then thought better of it.

  “That would be me,” I managed.

  “I’m Ryder Colden.”

  Now, I had a chance to be rude.

  “I know, it says so on your name tag.”

  He grinned, the light glinting off his fangs, and I noticed Gwynn watching us like a hawk. Ryder didn’t respond but leaned back in his chair, returning his attention to Rand, who was now wrapping things up. Once Rand finished his speech, he returned to our table as everyone clapped.

  “Nice job,” I said.

  “You’re going to be quite busy tonight,” he responded with a grin. “I hope you’re prepared to answer a lot of questions.”

  I shrugged. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Rand turned to the old man at his left, Grimsley, and
said something in some Scandinavian language I wasn’t even going to begin to guess. I figured he was translating what he’d just said to me because Grimsley nodded in my direction. So Rand could speak more than one language…was there a limit to what this man could do? And why were his abilities such a turn on? I tried to remember back to high school—had I ever had a crush on any of the foreign language teachers? Hmm…no.

  “Two creatures, eh?” Ryder asked.

  He was as ugly as the sneer that arrested his lips. He was a burly looking guy or vampire—it wouldn’t have surprised me in the least to find out he was a biker—he had that sort of look. Everyone had dressed up for this affair with the exception of Ryder who wore blue jeans and a leather jacket. But I wasn’t going to be the one to point out his faux pas.

  “I believe the count is two so far.”

  He chuckled. “We’re puttin’ alotta weight on someone who’s only had two successes.”

  “Jolie has incredible powers,” Christa said and Ryder made a humph sound.

  Apparently having witnessed our conversation, Rand stopped talking to Grimsley and faced Ryder.

  “Two out of two, Ryder, she hasn’t failed yet.”

  Ryder nodded and continued to inspect me, his inspection centering on my bust until I excused myself and hurried to the ladies room. I imagined this is what I’d be up against all night—creatures second-guessing me, wanting to make sure they were making the right decision by joining us. And the supreme kicker was that I was right there with them, doubting my own abilities as much as they were.

  I turned a corner and Trent waylaid me en route. I resisted the urge to curse.

  “Jolie,” he began, lifting his hand as if to take hold of me.

  I stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “What do you want?”

  He seemed deflated, his shoulders sagging visibly.

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  I sighed—crap, I didn’t have the time nor the interest for this.

  “About what?”

  “You look beautiful,” he said, and eyed me up and down, grinning appreciatively.

  “Thanks,” I said with great put-outedness. “I’m sure that isn’t what you wanted to talk about though?”