An American Witch in Paris

by Michele Hauf

  “Good call. I’ll have to look up Savin Thorne.”

  “He’s living in the fourteenth. Bit of a hermit. But yes, I’d recommend the man.”

  “Thanks. I’m heading home to see if I can find traces of the witch. Can I get a copy of that page?” He pointed to the oversized book.

  “Why do you people think I’m some kind of a copy machine?”

  Ethan shrugged. “You’re not?” Then he chuckled. “Have your assistant send me a digital file of it, yes?”

  “I can have it to you in a few hours.”

  “Thanks.” Ethan patted his jacket pocket. No phone. Had he lost it in the scuffle at the Bois de Boulogne? Damn. “Send it to my office email,” he said. “I seem to have misplaced my phone. Er, will you show me the way out of here? We took so many turns I don’t want to end up in the werewolf room.”

  “Why? Not keen on the dogs?”

  “Not so much that as not in the mood to relive some rather sketchy history.”

  “Blood Wars?” CJ asked.

  Ethan nodded.

  “I completely understand. Just being in this room creeps me out. Too many memories of an experimental magic excursion to Daemonia gone awry. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Tuesday stood in line behind a family of six, who waited with shoes in hand to pass through security at Charles de Gaulle airport. The flight took off in an hour, and she was ready for the eight-hour sleep she would sink into as soon as her butt landed on the narrow seat.

  But for perhaps the fifth time, she glanced over her shoulder and gazed out the windows at the stream of cabs letting off travelers or picking them up. Was she really ready to write off this adventure and mark it as defeat? That wasn’t like her. She reveled in a good challenge. And if it involved getting down and dirty with some bastard demon? Bring it on. She could stand up to the most powerful of them and win. Every time.

  Yes, even the one demon who wanted to rip out her heart.

  And there was a certain sexy vampire who had sparked her interest. Was she simply going to walk away from the man without having gotten more than a few kisses? Didn’t feel right. Even if she returned, fucked him and left, at least she’d have had that pleasure.

  To leave or not?

  She knew Gazariel would rely on her fear, on not wanting to lose her heart. And the idea of shivering before the demon did not sit well with her. She was stronger than this. And the demon was messing with her. He wanted to end the world because of...unrequited love? Sounded like a bad romance to her.

  It was time to seriously consider transferring this curse back to Gazariel. If he wore the curse, he’d fall out of love and lose the desire to hand off a dangerous gift to goddess knew what kind of malicious entity.

  Love? Tuesday clutched her shoes tightly against her chest. Yes, she was ready to welcome it into her life. She wanted it. And if that wasn’t reason enough to turn and aim for the exit door, she wasn’t about to let that ridiculous fop of a demon tell her what to do. It was time to stand up and show it her teeth.

  “Mademoiselle?”

  She turned to find the security guard waiting for her to remove her coat then step forward through the X-ray machine. She’d never liked those machines. Something wrong with peering inside a person and seeing their very bones.

  “Right.” She took one step forward, and then...one step back.

  Chapter 10

  Ethan opened his apartment door to discover a yawning witch waiting outside in the hallway.

  She snapped her mouth shut and put up one finger. “I’ve got one more idea for a tracking spell on that bastard demon.”

  “Okay.”

  “But first, I need a shower.” Tuesday strode inside, passing him by, and rummaged through her bag. She tugged out his phone and dropped it on the couch. “Yeah?”

  He gestured toward the bedroom, which led to the bathroom. “You know where it is.”

  She didn’t say another word. Didn’t explain why she’d returned, or for how long. And he felt it best to let things play out and see what she’d offer him. Because he hadn’t found anything of hers to give to CJ for a summoning spell, not even a single strand of hair.

  He needed her. In more ways than he was willing to admit to himself.

  But this time around, he’d play things closer to the vest. Not go all director-in-charge on her by forcing her to comply. This time, he’d follow the witch’s lead. It felt right. It felt as though his heart demanded it.

  * * *

  After a shower, Tuesday pulled on a T-shirt that hung to her thighs, then looked in the mirror. Emblazoned across the shirt were the words, Surely Not Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting. She’d found it in a vintage store while shopping with Ethan. Ha! And yes, there had been occasions in the nightclubs during the 1970s disco frenzy when everyone had been kung fu fighting. In dance mode, of course. Good times.

  She was ready to pull out all her moves against Gazariel. She had no clue how to give the curse back to him, but she would not relent until it happened. If he was in love, maybe she could use that against him. She had to find out who his lover was. And how much she meant to him. Apparently enough to give her a trinket that could end the world.

  Tuesday did a few kung fu moves in front of the mirror, then gave it her best fighter’s face. That demon wanted to threaten her?

  “Let’s see what he does when love is taken away from him.” And she delivered a knockout kick to her absent opponent.

  Grabbing her bag, which she’d filled with a few more magical accoutrements thanks to her rushing around on a hot-chocolate high earlier, she wandered out through the bedroom and set down the bag in the corner between the bed and the living area. An old wood vanity held a record player and a neat stack of albums sat beside it. And on the other half of the vanity a crystal decanter with dark alcohol in it sat surrounded by three wide-bowled glasses.

  Ethan sat on the sofa, legs up on the coffee table, bare feet tilted outward. He gazed idly at her.

  “Let’s do this spell before I fall asleep from utter exhaustion,” she said, taking a few items out of her bag. “Get me something to write with. Like a felt-tip marker. Take off your shirt. And lie down in this big ol’ salt circle I’m about to make.”

  She began to pour the bag of ordinary table salt she’d bought at a local market onto the wide plank flooring before the vanity.

  Ethan, meanwhile, got a pen from the kitchen and tugged off his shirt. She did notice those washboard abs, and at that moment her circle took a distinct swerve inward.

  Shaking off the alluring sight, Tuesday redirected the salt and closed up the circle. It was big enough to contain a very sizable vampire and his nekkid abs that screamed for some hella licking. She gestured toward it. “Lie down.”

  Ethan scratched his head, then pressed his thumb and forefinger close together. “Just a teeny bit of info first?”

  She propped her hands on her hips. Fine. The man was cute enough that he could command that of her. “We want to catch The Beautiful One, yeah?”

  “Agreed.”

  “I am the one who alerts the demon we’re near. Not cool. So you need to become the bait or lure or even the GPS. With this spell, I’m going to make you into a tracker. You should be able to turn it on or off when needed. It’ll be like you borrowing some of my magic but without having to perform bloodsexmagic.”

  He shrugged, then stepped inside the circle. “This doesn’t require blood?”

  “It does, but yours this time.”

  He put up a hand. “I’m a vampire.”

  Tuesday gave him a droll look. “I got that. First try, even.”

  “I don’t give blood,” he said. “I only take it.”

  “Get over your bad self.”

  He crossed his arms. “I refuse to give blood.”

  Tuesday inhaled through her nos
e and met the vampire eye-to-eye. All seriousness in those pretty gray irises. For all that she had given thus far, a few drops of blood shouldn’t be a hardship for him. And yet, she looked down his face, to his neck, which was tight with tension, and along his arms, that ended in fists. Something was bothering him. And it had to do with the blood.

  “It’s not going to hurt. Promise,” she lied. “And besides, you did give blood for the binding between the two of us.”

  “That was different. You were a mere...witch. And I was desperate.”

  “And you’re not now?” Though she had caught the vitriol in the way he’d said witch. He had not liked her very much when she’d first arrived. A mutual feeling. But her feelings had changed. And she’d thought he was starting to come around as well.

  “Why can’t we use your blood?” he asked.

  “Because you’d get turned on and toss me on the end of the bed before I could finish the spell.”

  He smirked and shook his head. Not the reaction she’d been hoping for with the gibe, either. “We’ve been through this, witch. I don’t go from calm to horny with the sniff of a few drops of blood.”

  “You were aroused by my blood in the car.”

  He closed his eyes. And Tuesday had to keep herself from leaning forward, moving in to smell his fresh outdoors scent. She wanted to kiss him. Damn her, the stupidest witch of all time. He had a certain allure, not unlike Gazariel’s strange pull. But with Ethan it felt honest and even promising.

  “The last time I gave blood I killed a woman,” he stated plainly.

  Tuesday leaned back and met the man’s gaze. Stoic and calm, as he had been that first time she’d woken up in the cage to look upon her captor.

  “You...killed. You’re a vampire—”

  “We don’t all kill to survive,” he interrupted. “I’ve never killed merely for blood. It is beneath me. It is unnecessary.”

  “But you have killed before. Many,” she said, knowing it to be the truth. For she had walked through the same centuries as he had. No one lived that long and got out of it untouched by foulness or evil.

  “I fought in the Blood Wars,” he said. “Of course I’ve killed. It was kill or be killed then. But what I’m talking about is the voluntary giving of blood that results in loss of life. I can’t do it. I won’t.”

  “Ethan.” She grabbed his hand and held it with both of hers. “Help me to understand. You killed someone by giving them blood? Were you...trying to transform them?”

  He made to tug out of her grasp, so she pulled his hand closer and held it firmly. “Talk to me. I shared my ugly stuff with you. I’ve done desperate things at desperate times. Tell me why donating a few drops of blood is such a big no-no for you.”

  “A few drops? That’s all you need?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah?”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  “It’s not going to be a lot. I need it to trace the spell on you. I’m not going to take it into my veins, if that’s got you worried. I don’t intend to die today. Swear it by the seven sacred witches.”

  He studied her, and as he did she suspected he wasn’t going to explain to her the whole deal behind his killing someone with a blood transfusion. She wanted to know about that wackiness. But really, this spell did not require a surgical operation or large amounts of the red stuff.

  “There’s no such thing as the seven sacred witches,” he finally said.

  Tuesday shrugged. “You got me. Now can we do this? Just a tiny donation is all I ask of you.” She pinched her fingers together before him. “I won’t even need an athame. Just...” She spun and leaned over to shuffle around in her bag, pulling out the alicorn. “This will be perfect. Yeah?”

  “Just a small amount?” Ethan asked. And when she nodded, he sighed and sat down.

  “All the way down,” she directed, and the vampire lay on his back. “This won’t hurt a bit. Maybe a little. You’re a big boy. You got this.”

  But what she wouldn’t give to have heard about the person he’d killed. It bothered him enough to freak him out over a little blood ritual. She would learn about it. Soon enough.

  With Ethan prone in the circle, Tuesday remained outside the line of salt, and took a moment to admire his physique. What was it about vampires and how they didn’t need to work out, yet they all seemed to have the abs and pecs of a bodybuilder? Wasn’t easy to disregard. But she would.

  For now.

  Kneeling, she leaned in and placed a palm to his chest. “Just go with it, okay?”

  “I do owe you this much. Thanks, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “For coming back. You had every right to leave.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not going to let that asshole demon shove me around and make me feel like the weak one. If he’s have relationship issues, ending the world is not the way to resolve them.”

  “Relationship issues?”

  “Yeah. I think the demon wants to give the book to some chick to win her love. Or maybe he already has. He wasn’t clear. I just knew with certainty that whoever the woman was, she wasn’t in love with him.”

  “I thought everyone adored him?”

  “Do you?”

  “He was kind of handsome.”

  Tuesday couldn’t stop some head-shaking laughter. “Right? I mean, it’s crazy, but I thought the same.”

  “That’s what makes him so dangerous,” Ethan said.

  “And why we need to be vigilant. We’re strong. We can do this. Together...” She uncapped the red marker he’d found and checked the writing on the plastic tube. Water soluble. Good for him. He’d be able to wash this off later. “We make a pretty decent team. Now I’m going to draw a tracking grid on you.”

  Ethan put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes as she drew a circle on his chest, and within it, a pentagram. She marked the four compass directions. A copy of the sigil she wore was placed at the spirit peak of the pentagram. Gliding the marker under his pec, she couldn’t help but slow down and study the rigid nipple and the sudden goose-bumping of his skin. He was aware she was studying him.

  The man would jump if she dashed out her tongue and licked his skin. He wasn’t overly hot. Vampires never were too hot, but weren’t cold, either, as one might expect. The flesh and muscles beneath her hands were solid and hard. And oh, so delectable. And as the red line journeyed over one abdominal ridge and then the next, she pressed her lips together.

  Didn’t want to start drooling on the guy. That would be so not cool.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ethan asked softly.

  She finished her line work with three short dashes above his navel and set aside the marker, but remained leaning over the salt circle and close to his body. “What’s that?”

  He nudged up a shoulder. “That I like you touching me.”

  Tuesday lifted an eyebrow. He still had his eyes closed. And from her vantage point, so close to his ribs and looking up over that hard pectoral landscape, she thought she saw his smile grow.

  “I am thinking the same thing,” she answered truthfully. “You make for a nice drawing board.”

  “Your breath on my skin is making me uncomfortable.”

  She glanced down toward his jeans and...oh, yes, he was growing hard. Well, she didn’t need him aroused for this spell—nor did she want to spend too much time considering his arousal because that would only do the same to her—so she gave his stomach a quick smack with her fingers and sat back.

  “What the hell?” He lifted his head to seek her.

  “Had to be done. We’ve got to focus. No silly stuff.”

  “If that’s the way you want to play it.” He put his head down and closed his eyes again. “But I wouldn’t call what I was thinking of doing to you silly.”

  Mercy. Had he really needed to say that? Because now Tues
day wanted to know what had been running through his thoughts. And how not-silly it might have been. Surely it had involved lots of skin-on-skin contact. And more of his devastating kisses. And if they were forced to do it inside the salt circle without upsetting the perimeter, they might have to get into all sorts of weird yet tight positions.

  Hell, she must be overtired if she was slipping into random moments of sex fantasy. What the hex? She shook her head and grabbed the alicorn. The quicker she finished the spell, the sooner she could find out the answer regarding the silly stuff.

  Waving the alicorn above the man’s chest, she told him to be quiet.

  “When will you need my blood?” he asked.

  “Oh, uh, soon.” She didn’t want to freak him out and have him running away before she even got this going. “I’ll use this.” She waggled the alicorn. “Now. Silence. Just focus on the tone of my voice and drawing in the vibrations that I send to you, yeah?”

  He nodded and closed his eyes again. Moonlight gleamed through the big windows to their sides, and fell across his face as if lighting a Hollywood vampire in the big redemption scene. Oh, what a pretty man.

  She’d returned from the airport for more than one reason, and she would not forget that.

  Soon enough.

  Standing, Tuesday first walked the circle widdershins, enclosing it in a permeable violet light that would allow her access to the inside, but wouldn’t include her as part of the spell. Stepping inside, she straddled Ethan’s legs. She wore only the long T-shirt, but his eyes were closed and she—she had to keep it together and rein in her lusty thoughts. Just for a while longer.

  Holding the alicorn in one hand, she spread the fingers of her other hand and leaned forward, focusing her energies toward the sigils drawn on his chest. The words to the spell came by rote and she chanted them over and over, changing her tone to a deeper resonance after a few successions.

  The red marker began to glow white and appeared as if it opened Ethan’s skin, though it did not. It was a deep and luminous glow. It allowed in her magic. Pointing the alicorn in each direction—north, east, south, then west—she then drew a line down to the center of the pentagram.