She didn’t look happy about it. “And does this protection include you?”
She folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin. “If need be.”
It was a generous offer, and yes, I was tempted. To stay in touch, to have Paimon at my beck and call and to feel that connection we’d shared once again. He hadn’t been a part of me for long, but his presence had left a lasting impression. Like pushing an imprint into putty and waiting for it to rise up and close around it.
“Tell Paimon, thank you but no.” I pushed the cuff across the table at her.
She stared at me, incredulous. “You’re turning down a direct line to one of the djinn Lords?”
I shrugged. “I don’t enjoy forcing people to do what they don’t want to, and even though Paimon may be happy with the arrangement, you’re not.” I smiled. “Just tell him I said no. Okay?”
She blew out a breath. “I have no aversion to protecting you. In fact I believe I would thoroughly enjoy playing bodyguard.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The connection between you and my lord. The … feelings. ” She shuddered. “To continue in your liaison will bring nothing but pain—to you both.”
I averted my gaze. She was right about my feelings. The attraction I felt to him. And he’d said he cared for me, but … “Any feelings we may have had were due to the binding. Nothing more. Look, things just got tangled up and confused for both of us. But we’re free now. I have my life back and Paimon has Alara.”
Her gaze grew bright. “Yes, Alara is the prize.”
The urge to ask who she was, what she meant to him, was almost a physical ache, but if I did I may as well admit I sill cared way too much.
Mira’s lip turned down. “Admirable. You haven’t asked.”
“Asked what?” I blinked at her innocently.
“What she means to him.”
I carried on stacking plates. “It’s really none of my business.”
“I’ll tell you anyway, so there can be no confusion, so you can shield your heart. Alara is Paimon’s betrothed.”
The plate slipped from my fingers and clattered back against the pile. Shit. Way to look unfazed.
Mira sighed. “Their marriage is a glorious alliance. It will bring peace to our world, and nothing must endanger that.” She said the words in a flat monotone as if they were a boring mantra she’d heard many times. “Look, if you are truly unaffected by this news then there is no reason to reject my lord’s offer of protection.”
It was no surprise, I’d surmised as much, but the words were still a blow to my heart. Mira had me backed into a corner. Refusing the cuff would be like admitting my lingering feelings for the djinn.
I picked up the cuff. “This is a summoning device, right? Like a cosmic phone?”
She nodded, watching me closely.
“Fine, tell your lord I accept his protection.” I unclasped the cuff and snapped it on. A tingle ran up my arm. “Is that all?” Why was there a lump in my throat?
Mira’s gaze softened. “One more thing.”
I lifted my chin, expecting another reminder not to get attached. “Go on.”
“Thank you for helping us. For putting your life in danger like you did. You didn’t have to do any of it. Paimon was fading. All you needed to do was wait him out and you’d have been rid of him. So, thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be around.”
She strode off toward the exit just as Victor entered the room.
“Wait!”
Mira paused at the door.
“Any luck finding … you know?”
She glanced over my shoulder, her mouth curving in a wicked smile. “Not yet. But tonight, I hunt.”
The door swung shut behind her.
Victor shuddered. “Well that was creepy. Who is that? You never said.”
I arched a brow, silently reminding him of our unspoken non-disclosure agreement.
The door swung open and the first of our patrons shuffled in.
He nodded. “Right. Well, time to get serving.”
The cuff sat on my wrist, a light tingling pressure, a reminder I was, once again, not alone.
27
U rvashi tackled me as I entered my flat. She rarely let herself in like this, so it had to be important. It was almost eight in the evening. The store had closed hours ago. Had she been waiting ever since?
She shoved an envelope into my hand. “Open it.”
It was thick cream paper, the quality stuff, and my name was written across it in calligraphy.
“So you’re breaking in and checking for my mail now?”
She giggled. “No, silly. A man hand-delivered it earlier.”
“Yeah, they call him the postman.”
She rolled her eyes. “He most certainly was not a postman. Postmen do not look like that. He came into the bakery asking for you. You should have seen Brenda. I thought she was going to jump over the counter and lick him.”
Even Banner hadn’t elicited that response. Who was this delivery guy?
Urvashi fanned herself. “He was hawt.”
I snorted. “And did you get his number?”
She pouted. “No. He was pretty focused on dropping that off and leaving. Probably in a committed relationship.” She stuck out her tongue in a yuck gesture.
A few weeks ago I’d have taken her disgust at face value, but now I knew some of her story—she’d been in love, real love—her reaction made me sad. Because it was her way of convincing herself love was a noose, a chore, something to distract you from living life. Love could hurt. I knew that better than anyone, but I’d also come to learn that I needed it. Maybe if I was wiser and more prudent in my choices, one day I’d have what I desired. Until then I’d shield my heart the best I could.
Urvashi made an exasperated sound. “Well? I haven’t been lounging around watching crappy soaps on your teeny tiny television for you to just stare at the darn thing.”
I carefully slit the envelope with my index finger, or tried to, because this paper was destruction proof.
“Use your magick.” Urvashi had a naughty glint in her eye.
My tummy fluttered. I hadn’t used my magick since I’d almost been killed. Not consciously anyway.
“Go on,” Urvashi urged. “It must be important. The guy who dropped it off looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine. He was no courier. Or do you need a spell?”
“No, I don’t.” Just like I’d done the last time, I reached out to touch the skein, coaxing it while running my hand over the seal of the envelope and willing it open.
Urvashi clapped her hands. Celestial beings like her and divine beings like the gods had no access to this kind of magick. The skein was closed off to them. They had charm and persuasion and tricks, but losing access to swarga had left them weakened. When it came to magick, the witches had the upper hand because the skein was an infinite source of power.
The envelope flipped open, and the crisp thick card slid out.
“An invitation.” Urvashi clapped her hands.
“It’s an invite to the Mayfair Quarterly Ball. My mother told me about these—the food, the dancing, and the dresses.”
I’d been young then, maybe seven or eight years old. She’d sit on the end of my bed and weave tales about the amazing coven events—about the wonder of being a witch, and the thrill of connecting to the skein. I’d fall asleep with a heart filled with hope and my head full of dreams.
Urvashi was watching my face carefully. “Are you going to go? You’ve been a witch-blood all your life and, I’m guessing, never been invited to one of these. And now you’re suddenly uber powerful they all want you?”
True, I’d been connected to the skein, but the connection had been tenuous, blocked by the binding. From what Drake said, it looked like I hadn’t even shown up as a witch to the covens monitoring the skein. Every witch, witch-blood, or aberration ever born was connected to the skein, and the covens were aware of their existence. It seeme
d to them I hadn’t even existed … until now. Could I blame them for excluding me if they’d been unaware I belonged?
“So?” Urvashi asked.
“I’m going to go.”
“Oh, thank god. I’ve been dying to know what happens at those events. I went to Moon and Star once and it was dir-tay. Like orgy central. Best. Night. Ever.” Her huge eyes grew even larger. “Please tell me you have a plus one.” She nudged me. “You’re going to take me, right?”
“There’s no plus one.” I turned the card over to double check. There was a postscript on the back. “I’m pretty sure these events are nothing like the Moon and Star.” I shot her an apologetic look. “But I promise to give you all the details regardless.”
The postscript simply stated a car would pick me up at seven sharp, but the event started at eight thirty. That was strange.
Urvashi pouted. “I suppose that will have to do.” She slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling her gasp. “Oh, gods, you’ll need a dress. We have to go shopping. Shit, when is the ball?”
I bit back my laughter; she could be so dramatic, but right now it was kinda adorable. “Saturday night.”
She frowned. “Saturday night. Of course. So we have two days to get you prepped. Trust me, with me by your side we’ll have the personal shoppers running around to get you that perfect dress.” She winked.
Excitement bubbled in my belly.
Drake, Banner, and Vritra had all been right. The Mayfair Coven was making their move, claiming a new powerful witch for their bloodline, and I didn’t care. This was my Cinderella moment come true, and I wasn’t missing it. Not for the world.
28
T he car arrived at precisely seven on Saturday evening. Urvashi let out a low whistle from her perch by the window, coffee mug clasped in both hands.
I grabbed my wrap and clutch and walked to the door. “Are you going to be here when I get back?”
She jerked her head toward the large handbag she’d brought over containing every make-up item and hair accessory I could imagine. “I got my pajamas and a movie. I’m not going anywhere until I hear everything.”
“I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.”
She shrugged. “Just wake me when you get in.”
Man, I loved that woman. And today she’d truly been a godsend. Helping me pick out the perfect dress and accessories and putting them on her store card for me to pay for later. She’d washed, curled, and pinned my hair, then brushed my face with pots of nude colored minerals until it glowed. A lick of gloss and a slick of liner, and I was done.
Blowing her a kiss I headed out to the car.
My dress swished against my calves. It was a swing dress with a sweetheart neckline and thick belt that made my tiny waist look even smaller. The car wasn’t just any old vehicle, it was a limo. The driver stood by the passenger side door and opened it for me as I approached. Swallowing my nerves, I slid into the plush interior and we were away.
The drive took less than ten minutes, even with the evening traffic. The AC was on so the interior was cool and forgiving compared to the humidity of the night outside. I played with the cuff on my wrist. Urvashi had done her best to get me to remove it, insisting it didn’t go with the outfit. But there was no way I was taking this baby off.
We turned into the Mayfair mansion driveway, tires crunching on gravel. Lights winked in the trees like fireflies, and solar lamps lined the drive leading to the huge entranceway. The doors were open to the night, and a red carpet had been laid in preparation for the arrival of all the guests. As a teenager I’d walked past the building on more occasions than I cared to recall. But this, driving up the actual drive, was something else. My pulse raced, my heart pounded. I was here, actually going to the Mayfair Ball. Mother would be so proud. Dammit, don’t think about her. She’d abandoned me for the last time.
What if she was here? Of course she’d be here. She never missed the Quarterly Ball. Taking a deep breath, I sat up straighter. If she was here then she’d see what she’d given up on. If she was here, then she’d have some questions to answer. We glided past the entrance and round the side of the house. The night closed in, and with the tinted windows it was difficult to see much.
We drew to a halt and the door opened. A hand appeared, palm upward. I slipped mine into it and stepped out.
A man smiled down at me. Dazzling and beautiful and impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit and salmon shirt.
“Miss Hunter. It’s so good of you to join us,” he said. “Please follow me.” He released my hand and crunched across the gravel toward a brightly lit doorway.
Why were we entering this way?
The man paused and glanced enquiringly over his shoulder, and for a moment he looked as if he was posing for a magazine shoot. Wait … could this be the guy Urvashi had been speaking of? The one who’d dropped of the invite?
“The festivities begin in under an hour and a half …” he trailed off, his meaning clear.
Okay, I got the message. I followed him into the house. “Did you drop off the invite?”
“I did. I’m glad you received it.”
We were in some kind of staff quarters. He led me up narrow stairs and through narrow doors, but he didn’t speak again until we spilled out into a richly decorated corridor.
And then he turned to me and smiled. “Almost there.”
He ushered me down a corridor lined with interesting abstract paintings, and through a set of double doors into a room filled with books and more paintings.
“If you will wait here, the High Witch will be with you shortly.” He turned and left.
The High Witch? As in the High Witch? Drake’s grandmother, who I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting because he’d never introduced us. Okay, so he’d been an independent witch at the time, semi-estranged from the coven, but still … there’d been no mention of meeting the family, and that should have been a warning sign. But whatever, I was meeting the High Witch. Palms all sweaty, I rubbed them on my dress.
Calm down, Carmella. It’s just another witch … The High fucking Witch. Paintings … I’d look at the paintings. The room was long rather than wide, probably because of the deep bookcases and antique furniture pushed against most of the walls. But the expanse above the stately mantel piece was lined with paintings, and more covered the wall behind me.
I’d have expected portraits, but these were more amazing works of abstract art—vivid and dynamic, and much too exciting to be locked away in a library. No wait. There was one portrait—an oil painting of a young woman laughing, her head thrown back. It was probably painted from a photograph. But the energy in the piece was so palpable I could almost imagine her delighted laughter. It would be infectious and lilting, like a melody. Her long blonde hair lay about her shoulders in tangles. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen.
The click of heels signaled the High Witch’s arrival. The door opened and a slender regal woman with piercing blue eyes glided in and shut the door behind her.
She paused to take me in and inclined her head. “Miss Hunter, how good of you to accept our invitation. I thought it prudent, under the circumstances; we meet before the festivities and become better acquainted.”
“Well, thank you. It’s very thoughtful of you.”
She smiled tightly. “Yes. Well it seems there has been some kind of … I’m not even sure what to call it.”
The words fuck-up were on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back, because it wasn’t a fuck-up. What had been done to me had been a deliberate, intricate act. And now I was standing in the same room as the most powerful woman in the covens with the perfect opportunity to ask for help.
“Have you any idea who could have done this to me? Or why?”
She pressed her lips together. “Maybe, if I’d had the opportunity to examine the binding. But I hear you unraveled it yourself?”
“I didn’t really have a choice. It was unlock my power or die.”
“Yes. How did you come
to discover the binding? From my knowledge, these kinds of spells are usually hidden from the subject. The subject doesn’t usually become aware of the binding unless it’s revealed to them by another.”
The air was suddenly crackling with tension. It brushed against my skin, setting my teeth on edge. She was fishing for information and I couldn’t fault her instincts. Without Paimon there to guide me I’d have been a goner, but there was no way I was telling her that. Those monsters were still out there, and we had no idea what their plan was or who they were working with. The djinn weren’t safe until the creatures were captured. But she was still staring at me with those unnerving penetrating eyes.
Time to turn this around. “You seem to know an awful lot about this type of binding.”
She arched a brow. “I’m High Witch of the most powerful coven in the city for a reason. Knowledge is power, my dear. So tell me, how did you stumble across the lock on your power?”
Okay, just act nonchalant. “I have no idea. I just did. To be honest it’s all a bit of a blur.”
Yes, that worked. I’d almost died, she couldn’t expect me to have stored all the details in my mind in high definition. Except I had: the pain, the terror, the helplessness. They were all too vivid.
I squeezed my eyes shut to banish the thoughts and gave her my jaded smile. “Most of what’s happened to me doesn’t make any sense. I was hoping you may be able to shed some light on it. Help me find out who did this and why.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “There are many independent witches out there, my dear. Any number could have achieved the result with enough power and the correct resources. It’s hard to say. As to the reason why? I can only begin to guess. Jealousy. Fear. Malice. Who knows? What matters now is that you’ve found yourself and found your way back to your coven.”
“Oh, I haven’t decided that I’m back.”
Her gaze hardened. “Excuse me?”
Wow, that look could only be described as the you’d-better-reconsider-or-die-look. But I hadn’t come here to be intimidated.
Binding Magick: an Urban Fantasy Novel (The Witch Blood Chronicles Book 1) Page 17