Gods & Monsters

by Shelby Mahurin

  “I don’t kid. Give me your wrists. You can walk behind the horse.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Coco slid from her own horse now, coming to stand beside Lou. “Don’t make us tie you to the horse, Reid.” She lifted her wrist to place a thumbnail upon it. A threat. “If you talk to her like that again, it would be my pleasure.”

  My hands tightened on the rope. “Try.”

  Beau rolled his eyes. “Honestly, brother, will you insist on this asshattery at every turn? If so, it’s going to be a very long trip.”

  “I’m not riding anywhere with that witch.”

  Without my Balisarda, I was virtually defenseless. She could attack me even now, and I wouldn’t be able to stop her. As if sensing that thought, Lou snorted. “You aren’t in any more danger on the horse.” Stepping into the stirrup, she swung her leg over its back. “Don’t be stupid, Chass. Climb up. You can tie me up later if you’d like, but I’m not walking anywhere.”

  I glared up at her. “I don’t trust you.”

  Her answering smile was hard. “I don’t particularly trust you either, which is why you should know”—she brushed the sheath at her thigh—“I’ll gut you like a fish if you try anything.”

  I didn’t move. Coco didn’t either. Her eyes narrowed on my bandolier. “Not good enough. Give me your knives.”

  “That isn’t going to happen.”

  Lou tipped her face up to the sky, exhaling heavily. “It’s fine, Coco. I’ve kicked his ass before. I can do it again.”

  “We’re wasting time,” Célie urged.

  Jean Luc shot me an impatient look. “Just get on the horse, Reid.”

  Judas.

  Reluctant, furious, I hoisted myself behind her, reaching around to take hold of the reins. She relinquished them freely. “Be very careful,” I warned her, voice low. “You may have magic, but you aren’t the only one who can gut a fish.”

  She turned her face toward mine. “I’m not the only one who has magic either.” When I nudged our horse into a trot, following the others, she asked, “Have you heard them yet? The voices?”

  I glared straight ahead. “I am sound of mind.”

  “For now.”

  I ignored the bait. Ignored her altogether. Until— “Beau said we’re riding toward a castle?”

  “Chateau le Blanc.” She settled between my arms, heaving a terse sigh when I shoved her forward once more. “My ancestral home.”

  “You’re going to rob it?” I tried to keep my voice casual. Cold. Only a Dame Blanche could locate the infamous Chateau. Finally, I’d found one to lead me to it. How many years had my brethren searched? How many witches would I snare there, unsuspecting and defenseless? Would I unearth the great pythoness herself, La Dame des Sorcières? One could only hope.

  If Lou couldn’t return my memories, perhaps this was the next best thing.

  “We are going to rob it.” She didn’t lean against me again. Unfortunately, her forward position fitted her backside more firmly between my legs. I gritted my teeth against the sensation. “It’ll be locked in the treasury, up in the highest room of the tallest tower. That’s where my coven hides all their relics—cursed books and eternal flowers and magic rings alike.”

  “Your father would shit a brick, Célie,” Beau called over his shoulder.

  “Shut up, Your Highness,” Jean Luc fired back.

  Célie spoke through her teeth. “I can speak for myself, Jean.”

  Lou chuckled before continuing. “My mother allowed me inside only once, and the door was guarded by a powerful enchantment. We’ll have to break it somehow—if we even manage to reach it. Eyes surround the castle itself from all sides. Hundreds of witches live there year-round.” She paused. “Even more now.”

  Hundreds of witches.

  “You said only the witch who casts the enchantment can break it.”

  “That’s right.”

  I clenched my jaw in irritation. In disappointment. “How will we break the enchantment on the door?”

  She merely shrugged, her hair tickling my face. Long and thick and brown. Wild. Against my better judgment, I inhaled its scent. She smelled sweet in a way I almost recognized—like vanilla and cinnamon. A warm coat on a cold winter day. Snow on my tongue. I shook my head, feeling thoroughly stupid. “You have no strategy at all, do you?”

  “I bottled several pints of L’Eau Mélancolique.” The wind carried Coco’s voice in an upward spiral. Lou strained forward to hear her, and I shifted away, cursing inwardly. Heat crept into my cheeks. My body didn’t realize, of course. This wasn’t a woman but a witch. “Maybe the waters will restore the door to what it was before the enchantment,” Coco continued. “If not, my blood might. It’s a different magic than yours.”

  Jean Luc didn’t hide his scorn. “It’s a door. We break it down.”

  I scarcely heard the exchange. With each stride of the horse, the witch’s backside moved against my lap, up and down, rhythmic, until heat suffused my entire body. I glared determinedly at the sky overhead. The situation had grown dire. Soon, she would notice, and soon, I would have to kill her for it.

  “Is there a problem, Chass?” she murmured after another moment.

  “None,” I snapped.

  She said nothing for several seconds. Then— “You can tell me if there is.” She cleared her throat. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “It must be hard, riding with me like this.”

  I would have to kill her.

  “Seriously, Reid.” Lowering her voice, she turned to look at me in the saddle. I exhaled harshly at the movement. “Do I need to move?” The sudden earnestness in her expression startled me. As did the flush in her cheeks. The dilation of her pupils. “I can sit behind you.”

  Ahead of us, Beau glanced back at me before winking and whispering in Coco’s ear. She laughed. Feverish with rage or—or something else—I shook my head. Their sly behavior chafed. All of it. Though truthfully, one couldn’t call them sly at all. Each communicated openly if not clearly, which made it all the more infuriating. They were laughing at my expense.

  I just didn’t know why.

  And I wouldn’t be humiliated by a witch.

  I jerked my chin behind me. “Move.”

  She stood in the stirrups without hesitation. Or tried. She couldn’t reach both, instead standing on tiptoe atop each of my boots. She nearly lost her balance. I didn’t help her. Didn’t touch her. Not until she pivoted to face me, her breasts at eye level. I nearly choked. Though she shimmied to maneuver around, they still brushed my cheek, and I lurched backward. She smelled sweet. Too sweet. Swiftly, I wrapped an arm around her waist, propelling her behind me. She clutched my shoulders for balance. Her thighs cradled mine. I held back a groan.

  At least her breasts weren’t in my face anymore—they were pressed into my back.

  God was trying to kill me.

  She slid her arms around my torso. “Is this better?”

  “How do I restore my memories?” I asked instead. Hideous shame tightened my chest. This physical response—I’d never felt it with such intensity. Worse, the ache didn’t ease. It only strengthened with each passing moment. My body felt . . . unfulfilled. Like it knew what came next. Like it craved it. But that was nonsense. It didn’t know anything, didn’t crave anything, and it certainly didn’t recognize that sweet smell.

  “It’ll be painful. I’ve only done it once.”

  “And?”

  “And I just sort of . . . focused on the holes in the tapestry. I followed the loose threads.”

  I scoffed. “Riddles.”

  “No.” She squeezed me tighter, her wrist dangerously close to one of my knives. I didn’t warn her. “It isn’t a riddle at all. Think of a specific gap in your memory. Focus. Remember everything around it—the colors, the scents, the sounds. Logically, your mind will try to fill in the missing pieces, but subconsciously, each explanation will feel wrong.” She paused. “That’s when you move on to the illogical ones. The magical ones.”r />
  Are you sure? Think hard, Reid. Please. Just think. I’m Lou, remember? I’m your wife.

  Wanted dead or alive under suspicion of murder, conspiracy, and witchcraft.

  I viciously rejected each thought. They simply weren’t true. And despite what this creature claimed, they didn’t feel right. They felt wrong in every way. Unnatural. I gripped the reins tighter, spurring our horse faster. I needed to recenter. To refocus. Plunging a knife in a witch’s heart should do the trick. A simple, logical solution.

  Even better if she had freckles.

  Winter Wonderland

  Lou

  I wasn’t prepared to return to Chateau le Blanc. A chill skittered down my spine at the familiarity of the wind here, the taste of the salt and pine and magic. Beyond the eerie mist of L’Eau Mélancolique, waves crashed and gulls cried. The former had lulled me to sleep every night as a child—and the latter had woken me each morning. My bedroom window had overlooked the sea.

  “Stop.” Though I said the word quietly, Jean Luc pulled on the reins of his horse, turning to face me. “We should walk from here. My sisters stalk these trees at night.”

  To my surprise, he nodded and complied without argument or scorn. Reid, however, stiffened and shook his head. “Your sisters.”

  “Do you have any?” Sliding from the saddle, I voiced the question with casual nonchalance. I knew the answer, of course, but he didn’t know that. I’d spooked him before with talk of wives and magic. His physical response to me hadn’t helped. If I had any chance of rekindling what we’d once had, it would take more than seduction. More than pleas. I’d need to fall in love with him all over again—the person he was now—and he would need to fall in love with me. When he didn’t answer, I tried to clarify. “Sisters, I mean.”

  “I knew what you meant,” he said shortly.

  Right.

  I’d forgotten he was now an ass.

  Jean Luc and Coco worked on tying the horses to trees while Célie and Beau approached. Beau rubbed his hands together against the cold. “What’s the plan? We charge in, swords drawn, banners flying?”

  “Morgane would kill us before we even crossed the bridge.” My eyes snagged on Célie’s hands. She’d clasped them at her waist, the picture of propriety—except for the needle sticking between them. “What is that?”

  Slowly, she uncurled her fingers, revealing a crude metal syringe. She didn’t cower or flinch beneath my black gaze as she said, matter-of-fact, “An injection. I lost it at the beach, but Elvire returned it to me. I plan to stab it in your mother’s throat.”

  “Ah.” Coco and I shared an incredulous glance. “Well, if that’s all.”

  Reid’s eyes gleamed as he stepped forward, but Célie snatched it away before he could take it. “Don’t even think about it. It belongs to me.”

  Jean Luc and Coco joined us now. “What is the plan?” the former asked. “Do we have any strategy at all?”

  “How did you sneak in on Modraniht?” I asked Coco.

  “Madame Labelle transformed our faces.” She shrugged helplessly. Reid, however, frowned at the name, his gaze turning inward, distant, as he found his mother in his memories. When his frown turned to a scowl, I knew he’d remembered her a witch. “Can you do the same? If witches have gathered from all over the kingdom, we could slip inside without suspicion.”

  “It’s possible, but . . .” I shook my head with mounting apprehension. “Morgane might not remember me, but she’ll remember how you infiltrated the castle. Others will remember too. I doubt they’ll fall for such a trick again—especially after Zenna’s attack. Everyone will be on high alert. Every stranger in the castle will be counted.”

  “How did you sneak in?” Coco asked Jean Luc. “You and the Chasseurs?”

  “We waited on the beach until Madame Labelle led us through the enchantment. We had no need to disguise ourselves. We wanted the witches to see us approach—to know ours would be the last faces they ever saw.”

  Célie wrinkled her nose at the gratuitous explanation. “Lovely.”

  His expression turned solemn. “I’m still a Chasseur, Célie. I still eradicate the occult. What I’m doing now—I’d lose my Balisarda if my brethren caught me here. I’d burn at the stake myself.” He gestured between us. “We all would.”

  “Unless we bring them La Dame des Sorcières’s head.” Reid looked pointedly at Coco and me. “And those of her sisters.”

  Beau jutted a finger at him. “You don’t get to talk anymore—”

  “Just be sure this is what you want.” Jean Luc clutched Célie’s hands, ignoring them both. “We can still walk away. You have a choice. You don’t have to do this.”

  Célie’s knuckles whitened around the injection. “Yes, I do.”

  “Célie—”

  “And you are not called to eradicate the occult, Jean. You are called to eradicate evil.” She pulled away from him, stepping backward to stand beside me. “There is evil in this chateau. Truthfully, we have no choice at all.”

  They stared at each other for several seconds—neither willing to blink—before Jean Luc finally sighed. “If we must enter from the bridge, we need some sort of cover.” Reluctantly, he unbuckled his scabbard, retreating briefly to his horse to hide it within his pack. The sapphire of his Balisarda’s hilt winked as he withdrew a set of knives instead.

  Reid’s eyes widened incredulously. “What are you doing?”

  “Think, Reid.” He tucked one knife into each boot. “The only viable cover available to us is magic.” He waved a hand in my direction, refusing to look at me. “Magic will not work if I carry my Balisarda.”

  Together, they all turned to stare at me. As if I knew the answers. As if I held each of their fates in the palm of my hand. Stomach rolling, I forced myself to return their gaze—because in a way, they were right. This was my ancestral home. These were my kin. If I couldn’t protect them here, if I couldn’t hide them from my sisters, they would indeed die.

  “Perhaps I should . . .” I cleared my throat. “Perhaps I should go in alone.”

  The thought met instantaneous and decisive objection, each of them speaking over the other. Coco and Beau refused to leave me. Célie demanded a chance to prove herself, and Jean Luc insisted I would need his expertise. Even Reid shook his head in stoic silence, his eyes communicating what his mouth did not.

  Nothing would stand between him and his conquest.

  At the moment, that conquest was Morgane le Blanc. Soon, he would realize his target had shifted, and the fleeting impulse to kill me would solidify into something very real and very dangerous. When he learned I’d become La Dame des Sorcières, I would no longer be safe with him. Not until he remembered. Not until I recaptured his heart.

  “We go where you go,” he said with dark resolve.

  My heart twisted with the words, and I turned away, closing my eyes. A web of golden patterns rose up to meet me. Studying them carefully—my lids fluttering in concentration—I discarded one after another, unsatisfied with each. This sort of magic, the sort to hide six people, would exact a heavy cost. Perhaps I could transform their bodies instead of their faces. They could become birds or squirrels or foxes. A rock in a badger’s mouth.

  Expelling a sigh of frustration, I shook my head. Such transfiguration would probably kill me. Beau would have to live the rest of his life as a rock—or, more likely, live as a rock forever because rocks didn’t die. After another moment or two of my own fruitless searching, Coco said softly, “Could you make us invisible?”

  I didn’t open my eyes, instead widening my inner sight for such a pattern. My skin tingled at the effort. My chest ached, an uncomfortable pressure building there. These cords—they felt simplistic somehow. Inadequate. Almost weak. Had something happened to my magic? Had Nicholina . . . altered me somehow? I frowned and pushed harder, stamping a metaphorical foot at the injustice of it all. Heat fanned across my face in humiliation.

  Here I was, La Dame des Sorcières—famed and all-po
werful, Mother, Maiden, and Crone—yet I couldn’t even cast an enchantment to protect my friends.

  My sister chose wrong.

  I could feel their expectant eyes on me now, waiting for a miracle.

  I stomped my foot again, this time in desperation, and the web beneath me bowed and rippled outward. Startled, I instinctively stomped once more.

  This time, the web broke.

  A web of pure, blinding white lay below it, and the tingle in my skin exploded in a wave of raw power. No. Awareness. Every blade of grass, every flake of snow, every needle of pine I felt with such an intensity that I stumbled backward, breathless. Célie caught my arm. “Lou?” she asked in alarm.

  I didn’t dare open my eyes. Not when the web below offered so much more. I tracked each pattern eagerly, feverish with possibility. I’d thought my magic infinite before. I’d thought it limited only to my imagination.

  I’d been wrong.

  My magic had flowed through the land, but this magic—it was the land. This land. The Triple Goddess hadn’t merely bestowed her form. She’d bestowed the heart of our entire people. My finger twitched, and the web rippled outward, connected to my every thought, every emotion, every memory. My ancestors’ too. I didn’t just feel the grass. I was the grass. I’d become the snow and pine.

  “Lou, you’re scaring me.” Coco’s sharp voice cut through my wonder, and unbidden, my eyes snapped open. She stood directly in front of me. In the brown of her irises, my skin reflected back at me, bright and burnished. Luminous. “What happened?”

  “I—” The ache in my chest towed me forward through the trees. I couldn’t resist its pull. “I’m fine,” I called over my shoulder, chuckling at their wide eyes and parted mouths. Reid had drawn a knife from his bandolier. He regarded me with open suspicion. I couldn’t bring myself to care. “I can hide everyone. Follow me.”

  Coco rushed after me. “How?”

  I grinned at her. “White patterns.”

  “Like the one at the blood camp?” Her hopeful expression fell. “The one that led you to Etienne?”

  My smile slipped, and I shuddered to a halt, suddenly unsure. “Do you think it’s Morgane?”