by Michele Hauf
Finally, fresh cold air smacked Tuesday’s face. It was still dark, yet the moon beamed across her face. As if blinded by a desert sun, Tuesday closed her eyes.
“Where should I take you?”
“Away from here,” she murmured, then passed out.
* * *
Ethan emerged from below Notre Dame and staggered across the street from the church to sit on the sidewalk before a closed souvenir shop. Behind him CJ filed out and stretched his arms. The book containing the Final Days code was tucked in his waistband. Savin was carrying up Anyx—whom CJ had bound with magic, though she was nearly drained of blood not only from him but from the spell. She may or may not survive. He didn’t care.
Tuesday and Gazariel had not been below when Ethan had finally ceased drinking from Anyx. He’d pulled away from her neck, swallowed the last hot gulp and had felt himself again. He’d touched death while lying in the circle. Hell, he must have briefly died. But Tuesday’s blood had lifted him from that abyss. He’d felt it trickle down his throat as if a cool, clean elixir. And yet, he’d held back from taking too much from her. He hadn’t been willing to take her life to save his own. Better to die than to take Tuesday along with him. She’d done nothing to deserve death. It had been he who had forced her into this nightmare.
When someone had dropped an unconscious Anyx before him, he’d dove in, knowing he could take enough blood from her—and not caring for the outcome. He’d fed on her viciously, yet the blood lust had spurred his desires. He hated that feeling, yet it had saved his life.
A heavy sweep of wings preceded the sudden appearance of Gazariel by his side. The demon kneeled beside Ethan, and gazed skyward. “Morning soon.”
“Where is she?” Ethan could only manage to whisper the question. He was exhausted. He needed rest to fully recover.
“She wanted to get away from you.”
Why would she...? And then he remembered seeing Tuesday shuffle across the chamber floor. The look in her eyes had not been of horror, but rather...betrayal. She’d watched him drink from Anyx. But she couldn’t have believed that meant anything to him beyond sustenance.
Of course she had. He had seen it plainly in her tearing blue gaze.
“I took her to the airport,” Gazariel said. “My witch is free of the curse. You broke the spell.”
“I—I did?”
Gazariel chuckled. “She never did tell you what would do it, did she?”
He shook his head.
“It’s something she has known since the day I placed the curse in her. A true love had to be willing to sacrifice his life for her. And...her true love did.” The demon winked.
“True love? But I thought...” Ethan blinked, sorting out the few details he’d learned about Tuesday’s dark curse. “If she couldn’t have love, then how...?”
“Oh, someone could fall in love with her. Just, the moment the guy realized it, or she did, then all goes to Beneath. Apparently, her true love realized how much he did love her only in that moment before it would have went to hell. You pulled through by the skin of your teeth. Good going, vampire.”
Gazariel stood. With a sweep of wings, he misted into black smoke and was gone.
Ethan closed his eyes. He was thankful Tuesday had been freed of the curse. And because of love?
“Yes.” He did love her. And perhaps he had only realized it that moment he’d dove to push her out of the circle so she would not die to stop the curse.
And now?
“I need to get to the airport.”
Chapter 25
CJ directed Savin to bring the vampiress to headquarters, where she would be contained. The Council would decide what to do with a vampiress who would see fit to bring an end to the world.
He told the reckoner he’d be close behind, but needed to do something first. Rather, he needed to follow the whisper that had not ceased since he’d stepped out of the church. It was a disembodied voice that he suspected only he could hear. And it was close.
Wandering across the street and toward the gated garden behind the grand church, CJ slipped through the thick shrubbery and into the quiet privacy of a small yet groomed garden that saw many tourists during the day. Now he was alone. The whisper lured him toward a bench that faced the back of the church, before a view of the flying buttresses and the massive iron cross that tipped the church.
CJ did not recognize the man who sat on the bench. He was tall, appeared slender and was dressed in a smart brown-and-black pinstriped suit. His palm was propped on the top of a straight black cane, which looked more accessory than necessity. He didn’t look at CJ; his stare seemed fixed on the cross atop the church.
“Give me the book,” the stranger said.
And hearing the voice, which sounded like a mix of all the accents of the world, yet was clear and precise, and so ethereal, CJ knew who the creature was on the bench. Ethan had mentioned who had sent him on this mission.
CJ tugged the book from his waistband and clutched it tightly to his chest. “You didn’t do such a good job holding onto it the first time.”
“Give it.”
“No.”
The book flew into the angel Raphael’s hands. And now he met CJ’s gaze with eyes that were all colors and glowed with a depth that CJ thought surely he could fall into and never land. And that wasn’t a romantic notion; it was a deep and abiding fear that tightened the skin all over his body and closed up his throat.
“I was having a little fun,” the angel admitted. “We do things like that every now and a thousand years or so. Ta.”
And with a massive swoop of wings that lifted the hair around CJ’s face, the angel disappeared.
And CJ dropped to his knees, utterly relieved, pissed, and thankful to be alive.
* * *
This time, Tuesday crossed through security without once looking back. Determination held her head high. Her flight left in forty-five minutes. As she waited for a little boy ahead of her to put on his tennis shoes, she grabbed her coat from the conveyor belt and pulled it on. Slipping into her ankle boots, she frowned at the dusty dried mud from the catacombs on them. It was time to get the hell out of Paris.
With a toss of her hair over a shoulder, she wandered forward. Her gate was to the left, and she—All of a sudden, she stopped at the junction of the turn and stood there, allowing the world to swish by her on all sides as if sped up on a security tape.
Time seemed to stop and voices were muffled. Clothing brushed past her. The stifling inner air ceased to bother. Her heartbeats thudded to recall what Gazariel had said to her.
True love had broken the curse.
But if so, then how had he been capable of holding his ex-wife like that? Was she wrong to think that moment in the catacombs had meant something to Ethan? His love for her had to be true to break the spell. Or had it dissolved as quickly as his ex-wife’s blood had entered his system?
She’d been starting to have fun with Ethan Pierce. And yes, she may have even begun to love him. Or at least, leave a hopeful door open that she’d recognize it if it was love.
But all for nothing, apparently.
And yet... “I really did fall in love.” Her throat tightened. Tears threatened.
So when someone turned her around and pulled her into an embrace to kiss her, Tuesday beat at the man’s shoulder and kicked him on the shin in defense. When she saw it was Ethan, wincing as he bent up his injured leg, she gasped.
“Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have surprised you like that. That was a Richard move. But I love you, Tuesday. You can’t leave me. Not like this.”
She slammed her arms across her chest and lifted her chin. “What about your wife?”
“You mean my ex-wife, who has been taken into custody to stand trial for reckless acts against humankind?”
“But I saw you.” She squeezed a fist,
hoping to staunch the tears, but they dropped down her cheeks. “You were holding her so tightly. Caressing her. I saw you stroke her...” She couldn’t say it. It hurt too much to think of right now.
“I was taking her blood, Tuesday. And yes, I experienced a moment of sexual satisfaction. I’m a vampire. Drinking blood turns me on. But ultimately drinking Anyx’s blood was a means to stay alive. Tuesday, please.” He took her hands. “She means nothing to me.”
“She’s the one who saved your life.”
“Not without your help. And your curse.” He pressed his palm to her chest, right over her heart.
Tears spilled down Tuesday’s cheeks as she struggled against throwing herself into his arms. “You’ve taken the curse from me. The sigil is gone.”
“Gazariel said as much. It’s true.” He bowed his head to hers and tilted up her chin with a finger. “I love you, Tuesday. Truly. Deeply. Insanely. Not like the false, surface love you accused Gazariel of experiencing. I love you on a soul level. I can feel it in my blood, my bones and my spirit.”
She gasped.
“And if you get on that plane and leave me I’m not sure what I’ll do.”
“You’d survive,” she said simply. “We all do.”
“But I don’t want to survive without you. I know it’s a lot to ask. And you have a home in Boston. But would you stay with me? Just a while longer? Please, Tuesday.” His breath hushed against her ear. “I love you. I need you to believe me. I. Love. You.”
The words felt true. They were true. Because if they were not, she would not recognize that right now. She’d still bear the curse and they might be standing in a desolate wasteland covered with the ashes of humans and angels alike.
The curse was gone. She could be loved. And...she was.
By the seven sacred witches, she really was.
“This is the second time I’ve come back to this airport intent on leaving.”
“I don’t think you’re meant to leave.” He smiled against her cheek then kissed it. “Not yet, anyway. Not until we’ve talked about us. You helped me to stop the Final Days. We’ve been through a lot. We’ve both literally walked through fire. Don’t walk away from us now.”
Us. Yeah, the word felt right. For now? For maybe a little longer. Together. Sharing their lives. She wanted to embrace that, to own it.
“I love you, too,” she said. “I think I’ve known it for days.”
She hugged him and tilted her head against his shoulder. She was tired and weak and, hell yes, she loved this man. Of course, he’d only been taking blood from Anyx to survive. And his honesty about how it had felt meant a lot to her.
“Take me home,” she said to him. “Your home.”
Epilogue
A year later...
Tuesday dusted a long rosewood shelf lined with seashells of all shapes, sizes and colors. She could hear the ocean echo out at her, and wasn’t at all surprised when a tiny giggle sounded from within the spiral of a nautilus shell. With a bounce to her step, she moved on to the next shelf, where a triton fashioned of more shells and some kind of metal that gleamed green was kept under glass.
This was the mermaid room in the Archives, and she’d been assigned to tidy it up today. And tomorrow. And for however long it took to clean the small and crowded room.
Certainly Jones had offered her the job after she’d decided to stay in Paris with Ethan a year ago. They’d gone back to his place from the airport, talked and...had a lot of hex. Blood-bone-spirit sex. Soul-deep stuff. They were really in love. And that was something neither of them had felt in a long time.
They’d wanted to ride that feeling and follow it wherever it would lead them, so she’d made a quick trip home to Boston, had rented out her property for an indefinite period of time and packed up her clothes and magical accoutrements. Now Ethan’s place was a bit more untidy and he’d had to relegate three quarters of his closet to her wardrobe. And Stuart now answered to her commands, as well as Ethan’s.
And every morning Ethan either woke her with croissants and orange juice, or left them on the counter because he’d gone in to work and hadn’t wanted to wake her. She’d never felt happier.
With the curse completely gone it was now easy to recognize love. Small things, such as the sun shining on this snowy February morning, had lifted her smile and given her a bounce to her step as she walked to work. She had a purpose now, and a fantastic lover.
Life was about as fabulous as it could get.
Bending to inspect a glass container filled with some kind of sparkling jewels, Tuesday realized the thin diamond-shaped items with one curved edge were possibly mermaid scales. Cool. She’d never in her lifetime met a mermaid, and wasn’t sure she wanted to. They were supposed to be vicious.
When a man’s hands suddenly covered her eyes from behind, she sprang upright. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. And Certainly Jones, her boss, would never do such a thing. So...
“Is it lunchtime already?” she asked with hope.
“I’m a little late.” Ethan leaned in and kissed the side of her neck, sending a visceral shiver over her skin. “Had some business to deal with. Can we have a quickie?”
“Did you lock the door?”
“Always.” His hand slipped around her waist and glided under her gray T-shirt that snarkily declared in block letters Don’t Be A Richard.
Lunchtime sex had become a norm, and they were pretty sure no one was aware of their stolen liaisons. CJ would say something if he knew. That witch was a stickler about work ethic and protocol. So they were careful, but never quiet.
“I missed you,” he said, turning her around to face him.
“It’s been three hours since we drove here together from home.”
“Three hours too long. I’m going to have to bite you again, and soon.”
Their blood connection lasted about twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The shared sexual gratification that developed with a bite gave them the ability to hear one another’s thoughts and to feel their emotions and sexual sensations. Love was a wondrous emotion that shimmered off Ethan like a warm summer sun. And yes, when they argued they could feel one another’s anger, even fear, but that made the need to make up quicker. And they never quarreled much.
Tuesday tapped her neck. “Right here, big boy.”
The vampire pierced her neck with his fangs, and while he did so, he slid down her leggings and she unzipped his fly. Behind her rose a nineteenth-century desk that he set her on as he licked at her blood.
Tuesday moaned as he slid his erection inside her and pumped slowly yet deeply. She enjoyed when they went at it fast and furious, but even more so when he prolonged every move, seeming to luxuriate in the depths of her.
“I’ve got another job you might be interested in,” he said.
“For Acquisitions?” She had helped him with one case regarding retrieving a grimoire from a crone a few months ago. All it had required was some sweet talk and a commitment to drinking the bitch under the table. Tuesday would never touch moss liqueur again. Oh, the hangover! “Does it involve another washed-up crone?”
“Faeries.”
“Why me?”
He shrugged and licked her neck to seal the wound. He thrust inside her still. “It’s a magic thing. Faeries are trafficking in humans, accept without the usual changeling to replace the stolen baby.”
“And why, exactly, does Acquisitions need to get involved? What do you need to acquire, Monsieur Director? And would you tell me if an angel were using us as pawns in his stupid game of playing with the inhabitants of the mortal realm again?”
“I would tell you, and Raphael has not been seen or heard of since his selfish ploy. Did I tell you the book with the Final Days code suddenly appeared on a shelf in the angel room a few weeks after our adventure?”
She gripped his ass, pulling him deep i
nto her. “You did not. But good to know. I hope it’s chained, warded and bespelled to Kingdom Come. Mmm, lover, pull out and slip your cock over my clit. Yes. Like that.” She bowed forward, putting her forehead to his shoulder.
“The faery thing will be fun for us,” he said. “Maybe?”
She knew that tone. He was diving in to adventure once again. For a man who had worked a desk job for so long, he’d been taking on more jobs himself. And fieldwork suited him. As it did her.
“I do like trying new things,” she said. Grinding her body against his erection, she mined the humming orgasm that whispered up to her core. “You think we’ll ever get back to America?”
“Do you want to return?”
“It does carry memory of a lot of good times.”
“Like witch hunts and torture?”
“Yes, Richard, just like that. You know me too well.”
He hilted himself inside her, and that was all it took to fly. Tuesday’s head fell back and she pulled her lover down to bite through her shirt at her breast. He didn’t break skin. They’d save that for later.
“I’d like to keep the witch in Paris for a while,” he said as he watched her face move through the joy and elation of orgasm. “Deal?”
She pulled herself back up to stare into his eyes. “You do have a lot to offer a witch who has been without love for centuries. Deal.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from AWAKENING THE SHIFTER by Jane Godman.
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Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed Ethan and Tuesday’s story. Ethan had brief appearances in Her Werewolf Hero, and The Vampire’s Protector. If you’re interested in learning about some of the secondary characters mentioned in this story, you can find them at your favorite online retailer.