An American Witch in Paris

by Michele Hauf

  And beyond that, to let her know that his initial feelings for her had changed. They’d shared much in the past few days and he’d developed a real understanding for the witch. He genuinely cared for her.

  The binding CJ had conjured between Ethan and Tuesday had been a mistake. It hadn’t given her a reason to trust him. And she had been a good sport, going along with every request he made of her.

  But he’d felt her terror when they’d stood in the apartment and Gazariel had begun to make the walls shake. The demon had connected with Tuesday. In a terrible and painful way. And then to find her lying in the snow outside, looking so defeated and frail, his heart had cringed.

  The witch had been cursed to never know love. What sort of hollow, empty life had she lived? He couldn’t fathom such a lack of love.

  Yet she deserved more protection and respect than he could give her. So he’d let her go. He’d find another way to track Gazariel. He now knew the demon was in the city. And if he had been in Paris for this long, then what reason had he to leave now? Unless they’d spooked him.

  Ethan needed to learn as much as he could about the demon. The knowledge could only enhance his search efforts.

  The vast Archives was located many stories below ground. It was a repository of all things, from books and ancient artifacts, to histories of the various paranormal species, and related ephemera. It basically housed all the information about the paranormal nations that could be contained. There were also catalogued weapons, shackled magics, volatile items placed in containment and even a few creatures that were much better off—for the humans’ sake—locked up than out running loose in the mortal realm.

  As director of Acquisitions, Ethan had seen to placing a good majority of the contents of the Archives there. Acquisitions was often referred to as the Archives’ dirty little secret, for their methods were brutal and unforgiving. And if the Archives needed to contain an ancient evil—or merely wanted it to study—they asked Ethan to deploy a retriever.

  As well, if a mysterious stranger showed up in his office with information that a certain book of angel sigils and names had gone missing, Ethan was charged to react appropriately. At all costs, the mortal realm must be protected from discovering there were creatures and magics that existed beyond myth and fable.

  Secrets. It was always about keeping secrets. He knew too many of them. And some days he wished he could erase them all from memory and start anew. Other days, it was good to know exactly what the world could—and did—deal him.

  Entering the Archives’ office, Ethan spied Certainly Jones sitting behind an ancient wood desk, his feet propped up on the desk as he sipped tea. The man rarely wore shoes, which always startled Ethan. He liked to maintain a certain business decorum at the office. But the Archives was not his domain. And CJ possessed mysterious ways and a manner that was ever polite but also secretive. However, the man was trustworthy, and that was what mattered most to Ethan.

  “How’d the containment go this afternoon?” CJ asked, not bothering to sit up from his relaxed posture.

  “Do you have a new demon behind bars?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then you know how it went. I need your help, Jones.”

  “Where’s Tuesday Knightsbridge?”

  Ethan gestured with a vague sweep over his shoulder. “I let her go. She’d served her purpose.”

  “Uh-huh.” CJ sat up, giving Ethan that I-know-you-better-than-you-know-yourself look. Witches and their looks. A man had to be cautious around them.

  “The demon broke the binding between us,” Ethan said. “It didn’t feel right to make her stay unless she wanted to actually help.”

  “And she did not. Makes sense. You did kidnap her.”

  “I did not—” Ethan knew an argument over semantics was senseless.

  The witch stood. “What help can I offer? I can provide knowledge, but as for hands-on, you know I’m not much for taking on demons. Not anymore, you understand.”

  CJ had once gone into Daemonia, purposely, and had returned from that despicable, demon-infested realm. Actually, his return had been an orchestrated rescue by his twin brother, Thoroughly Jones. The trip there had changed CJ, made him miserable and dark and...he’d come near to death. But another witch—a pretty red-haired woman named Viktorie Saint-Charles—had helped him to escape the psychological torments of those demonic hosts and now he avoided demons like the proverbial plague.

  “I need all the information you have on Gazariel,” Ethan said. “Specifically, what you can tell me about the curse he had. The one he gave to Tuesday. And if there’s a way to break it.”

  Because if they could break the curse then he need not fear that Tuesday would be harmed when finally he did capture Gazariel.

  “I’ll have to search the records.” CJ gestured toward the silver service by the wall behind Ethan. “Tea?”

  * * *

  Tuesday sipped the thick hot chocolate and tugged the alpaca coat snugly around her shoulders. She was still cold even though she could feel the heat blast through the nearby vent that was level with her ankles. She sat before the front second-floor window of Angelina, having been drawn to the chic yet touristy café because she’d once heard they served the best hot chocolate ever.

  Truth. But it was also rich and so sweet she was already flying high on a sugar rush. Good thing she’d foregone checking out the decadent pastries. With but a clasp of her waitress’s hand, she’d assured the bill was paid and that no one would remember her sitting here for two hours, staring out over the snow-frothed horse-chestnut trees that edged the Tuileries Garden across the street. And wondering.

  What to do now?

  Ethan had released her from duty. Well, she would have walked away from him no matter if he’d given her leave or not. Wasn’t as if she’d volunteered for the mission. She’d had no choice. It hadn’t been duty, but forced servitude.

  But now that she did have a choice, she wasn’t sure what came next. Her intention was to hop a flight back home. That was the logical decision. Maybe do a little touristing before hopping on that flight? That option was a little less safe and she risked the vampire deciding he needed her again and finding her.

  Or she could walk back into the fray and put up her fists and show the demon her teeth.

  All her life she had stood up for her beliefs, ever since she’d been given a renewed chance at life thanks to the dreadful curse the demon had put inside her. But if she couldn’t know love then she’d be damned to sit around and pout about it. She had not once felt regretful for her decision made in that dark cell outside the pigpen.

  And yet, she wasn’t feeling so strong or powerful at the moment. Her chest ached from Gazariel’s touch. He had touched her heart. And should they meet again he wouldn’t pause to rip it out. That was a truth she inexplicably knew.

  Back in the seventeenth century, the demon hadn’t wanted the curse he’d put inside her. But this afternoon, she’d seen the glitter of desire in his eyes as he had recognized the tease of lacking love. He’d wanted it. And he had not.

  Something was up with Gazariel and his love life. He’d not been able to hide his reaction to her guessing at that. Of course, it was possible not everyone would love him. Yes? Maybe? Tuesday couldn’t fathom being loved by everyone she met. Was The Beautiful One growing weary of unending love and devotion? It did sound tiresome.

  And yet, a small taste of love seemed too delicious to Tuesday right now.

  Yes, she’d been near death, wishing to die, when she’d accepted the curse. Over the centuries, she’d made it her own, embracing the utter lack of love. How easy it was to never have to worry about love and all its ridiculous predicaments.

  And she’d been fine with fleeting romantic relationships over the years. Just when the man started to get all doe-eyed and she suspected he was falling in love, he’d suddenly notice something about
her he hated, or he’d simply leave. She had expected those reactions, so they hadn’t bothered her. Too much.

  But now she wasn’t so sure. Gazariel’s touch had given the curse new life. Had strengthened it. Ethan had walked away from her with ease. And that was because of the curse, surely.

  Suddenly the thought of not having love in her life was tangible and real. A hole in her heart. And she couldn’t be a strong powerful woman if part of her had a hole in it.

  Did she want to shuck off the curse and allow love into her life? Could she be so brave? It wasn’t as if she was in love with Ethan Pierce or he with her. But she wanted that option. She really did.

  “Just leave Paris,” she whispered over the cup of chocolate. “You know it’s the right choice. The vampire has no interest in you beyond what you can do for him.”

  And what she could do for him might bring back the demon. And that would see her bloody heart dangling from Gazariel’s fingers. One way or another, she would not survive if she didn’t leave the city today.

  She snapped the rubber band.

  Yeah, it was the only choice.

  Pulling out the cell phone she’d slipped from Ethan’s pocket while lying on the snowy ground, she downloaded an airline app and checked the schedule for flights leaving for the US. There were four this evening. And each one still had remaining seats.

  * * *

  The Archives had a room for virtually every species of paranormal that inhabited the mortal realm. The room on witches was the largest. The unicorn room was the smallest due to a lack of information. But Tuesday did wield an alicorn, Ethan thought, as they passed by that room. Just what sort of trouble could a witch get into with that thing? He wanted to know.

  He really did.

  As Ethan followed CJ into the demon room, he felt a cool chill fall over his skin and he adopted a militant need to scan the room and look over his shoulder. Nothing followed him down the aisles of dark, dusty bookshelves, nor did he see anything flying above near the two-story-high ceiling. But he was not mistaken that pairs of red eyes seemed to flicker here and there from within the books and haphazardly stacked artifacts.

  “Tamatha has been rearranging,” CJ said. “It’s a bit of a clutter right now. The inner chamber is neater.”

  CJ pushed open a heavy steel door. It looked like something that should front a bank vault. The dark witch’s casual manner relaxed Ethan’s tensions. He followed him inside the massive annex room, taking in the musty odor and the many aisles that boasted boxes or small cages with creatures inside. Books papered an entire wall that stretched the length of the chamber.

  “Ignore the blaggert,” CJ offered as they filed past a small glass-barred cage, secured with electronic locks. Inside, a diminutive red creature with tufted ears bent and waggled his bare ass at them as they passed.

  “The Bibliodaemon is up on that dais,” CJ said. “As with most species, there is a book, or bible, that describes them all, and is constantly updated.”

  “Like the Book of All Spells.”

  Ethan knew that book was like a living archive of any and all spells created by witches. If a witch was speaking a new spell right now, it was magically being written into that book. There was another for vampires, The Vampire Codex, though he’d never been curious about it. Weird, to think that now. Of course, he lived the vampire’s life; no need to have it explained to him in text.

  “Yes, like that book.” CJ skipped up two steps to a steel dais, where a table displayed a huge book that was about three feet high and two feet wide. It sat open to some pages that looked like time-stained parchment. With a sweep of his hand and a mutter of Latin, followed by the demon Gazariel’s name, CJ sent the pages fluttering. “It’ll take a few minutes to bring up the records. Kind of like the internet but slower and more interesting, eh?”

  “Your job must never see a dull day,” Ethan commented as he pulled up a stool to sit and watch the book pages move rapidly in search.

  “It’s a kick, that’s for sure. But we could use more help. I’ve only got Tamatha as my assistant. She’s off in the harpie room today. Maybe? I don’t know. It’s quite the labyrinth down here. A couple more hands would be helpful. We’ve such a backload of stuff from your retrievers.”

  “You mean it hasn’t all been catalogued?”

  “Who has the time? I have a holding room that’s warded to the nines. Tamatha and I are working as fast as we can to keep up with the acquisitions.”

  “You should put in a requisition to the Council. I’m sure they’d approve you hiring more help.”

  CJ nodded. “Thing is, I’m very particular about who I work with. And I don’t have time to vet someone new. So I guess I either lighten up or shut up, eh?”

  “Seems to be the case.”

  The pages stopped moving and CJ leaned over the book and read. “‘Gazariel, master angel of the First Void, Creator of Vanity, fallen to Beneath where he became known as The Beautiful One, and was cast out by the Devil Himself.’”

  “That demon was once an angel?”

  “Many demons were originally angels,” CJ said. “When they Fell, those who landed in Beneath assumed demonic form. Others became the Sinistari, who now hunt the Fallen.”

  “I thought the majority of demons were from Daemonia?”

  “They are. Yet you’ll not find a former Fallen One who is now demon who would ever set foot in Daemonia. While Daemonia has its own version of royalty, the Fallen Ones deem themselves highest of all demons since they originated in Above. Daemonia is, literally, beneath them. Looks like your guy has a reason for being called The Beautiful One. Creator of Vanity, eh?”

  The demon had been primping when he’d stood before them in the apartment complex. It was as if he couldn’t not flaunt his beauty.

  “Does it say why Himself cast him out of Beneath?” Ethan asked. “Isn’t that odd? I thought The Old Lad was always looking for more minions.”

  CJ leaned over the book and read silently for a while. “Himself was jealous.”

  “Why, because Gazariel is pretty?”

  “Exactly. So he cursed Gazariel with an evil that would not allow him to own love and cast him out to the mortal realm.”

  “To own it,” Ethan repeated, thinking, trying to work this out. “But not necessarily to never know it?”

  CJ shrugged. “I suppose. But I assume if a person would have fallen in love with the demon, while he still wore the curse, something terrible would have happened to that person to make them stop loving him.”

  “Yet Gazariel himself could actually love still.” Which would mean that Tuesday could still love. Maybe.

  “So the curse came from the devil...” Ethan did not repeat Himself’s name. Say the name three times in a row? You’ve invited the devil for a visit. Not something he ever intended to do. “And obviously Gazariel didn’t want that hanging on him, so he pawned it off on a witch.”

  “Interesting that he was able to so easily give it away.”

  “Tuesday said she asked for it.”

  CJ lifted an eyebrow.

  “She had been beaten and tortured by a witch hunter, whom she loved, and was very near death.”

  “Then some demon offers to take love, which hurt her, from her life?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Poor thing.” CJ propped his arms akimbo. “Tuesday is dark but she doesn’t strike me as evil incarnate.”

  “If the curse is designed to keep away love, maybe that’s all it can get out of her? If she is innately good?”

  “Possible. But how is learning this going to help you get a hand on the demon? If he’s slipped through your hands once already?”

  “I’m trying to gather as much information as I can. And whatever happens I don’t want Tuesday getting hurt. She and Gazariel are tied together. He told us if we hurt him she will feel it.”

&n
bsp; “That makes things difficult. But if she’s left the city? She could be at a safe distance.”

  “But how to know what that safe distance is?”

  “Why is Gazariel in Paris?” CJ asked. “If he’s got the Final Days code, why not use it? Or is he holding it for someone? Waiting to hand it off? Or has he already done so? There’s a reason he’s not running far.”

  “Right. And now that he knows I want what he has...”

  “Then he’ll make himself scarce.”

  “Or will he? I’m not sure.” Ethan crossed his arms, considering what he’d learned. “There is the connection between him and Tuesday. She is key to calling the demon forth. And there was a moment when I’m sure I saw the desire for the curse in the demon’s eyes. When he touched Tuesday, he could feel that darkness calling to him. He said something about love not being what it was cracked up to be. I think he would take the curse back if given the right conditions.”

  “Which are?”

  “I don’t know. A bad love affair? Can you perform a tracking spell like Tuesday did? I need to know where Gazariel is right now.”

  “I’m sure she was using the sigil as a direct conduit. Do you have something from Tuesday that I might use to call up the demon?”

  “I...no. Maybe? She was at my place for a bit. I’ll have to go see if she left anything behind.”

  “If you could find some hair strands that would be optimal. That still won’t guarantee I can get a fix on the demon. I’ll give it a shot, though.”

  Ethan slapped a hand into CJ’s. “Thanks, man.”

  “Have you considered calling in a reckoner for when you do find Gazariel? Perhaps as a threat?”

  A reckoner consigned demons to Daemonia. To threaten Gazariel with going to that place, which he must fear as most mortals feared Hell, could provide some leverage, perhaps even get him to confess about where the book was.