Lack of Red Bull, and Artemis’s comfortable sofa had done wonders to help her relax. Baz hoped his presence had helped to ease her anxiety, as well. He blamed the bulk of her exhaustion on lack of sleep, but he also knew from Vaughn and Jett that she had shifted into cat form twice within a short period in order to help snag Gantry. When someone wasn’t in peak condition, shifting could take a heavy toll.
Every Keeper was born with a “borrowed power,” an ability linked to their charges’ abilities. June had the mark of the paw, which signified her ability to shift into a witch’s familiar—a cat. Only instead of being the companion and source of inspiration for just one witch, she’d been marked as a Keeper, her role to aid all witches, specifically the magical element of Salem. Her father and her uncle, rest their souls, had been marked as well, and as they were first in line to serve, no one in the community had thought it likely June would adopt the role of Keeper anytime soon, if ever. Growing up, Juniper Twist had been one of the sweetest souls ever to grace Salem. No one could imagine her as a guardian. In times of peace, sure. But when things got rough?
Baz studied June’s lovely features. So angelic. So petite. He’d been stunned when Jett had described her aggressive role in Gantry’s capture. Then again, this wasn’t the same woman he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. She’d grown cynical since then, guarded. She’d never fully recovered from her parents’ tragic deaths, and then not two years after she’d felt deceived by Esmeralda’s well-intentioned spell and his own unintentional betrayal.
She stirred and moaned, and he held her a little closer, a little tighter. His body hummed with yearning. He wanted to kiss her, slow and deep. He wanted to peel away her winter layers, to stroke her curves. To make her purr. He wanted to bury himself inside her and reclaim the magic they’d once shared. He’d sworn he was over Juniper Twist.
He’d been wrong.
His groin tightened when she turned into him, draping one leg over his lap. He remembered her flexibility with aching clarity. He struggled to temper the erotic visions dancing in his head. Struggled to smother the lustful inferno raging through his blood. For the love of...
June snuggled into his embrace. Apparently she didn’t despise him as much in her dreams. She even smiled a little when he smoothed her hair from her face. He fixated on that mouth, the same mouth that had whispered her undying love, only to curse him to hell when she’d caught him in a lip-lock with Lolita Dorring. The biggest bonehead move of his youth. He admitted it. He’d apologized for it. Lolita had caught him at a bad time, working her seductive wiles the same day June had spurned him, and he’d rolled with it. If he had been tempted and had taken the kiss further, then his “love” for June would have been false. A spell-induced illusion. That experimental kiss had fallen flat, just as he’d anticipated, but June had walked in before he’d had a chance to end it. His explanation regarding the need to prove the genuineness and depth of his love for June had fallen on deaf ears. June’s deaf ears. In hindsight, he’d acted rashly. But he’d been angry and desperate. Back then his lack of control was downright famous.
He had spent years reining in his impetuous streak. Now he thought before acting—and he was thinking about taking advantage of this moment and brushing a kiss over June’s tantalizing lips. Just a taste to appease his hunger. He dropped his face closer to hers and, as if sensing his intention, as if welcoming his affection, she wrapped her arm around his neck.
Heart pounding, Baz froze. She was asleep. A fatigued sleep. She could be snuggling with anyone in her dreams.
His thoughts took an ugly turn. She’d been away for eight years. She was vibrant and beautiful and smart. Passionate. He had been June’s first. He didn’t want to think about her in any other man’s bed. But he couldn’t stop himself.
She stirred then, as if sensing his tension. Her lashes fluttered, and she looked up at him, all soft and dreamy.
He knew the moment lucidity hit. He could read her thoughts as clearly as when she was in her cat form. Communicating telepathically. Just one of the boons between a witch and familiar.
She didn’t trust him.
“I—”
“Let’s take a walk.” He didn’t take her by the hand this time. He couldn’t risk the connection. For the first time in ages, he wrestled to maintain calm. June peeked at the clock hanging over the cashier’s counter as Baz helped her into her coat.
3:30 a.m.
Normally dawn would break in four hours, but she wasn’t counting on it today. In the two weeks since she’d been back in Salem, sunrise and sunset had been erratic, the days shorter and shorter. There hadn’t been even a glimpse of daylight yesterday. The most dismal Christmas Eve ever. A chilling fear had begun to worm its way under her skin. The fear that if they didn’t break the spell pronto, if the sun didn’t shine for even a minute on Christmas Day, Salem would be doomed to darkness forever.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep in the midst of this crisis.” June pulled her sweater cap over her head, angry with herself, angry with Baz. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“If we’re going to go up against Marin, you need to be alert and aware,” he said as he pulled on his bomber jacket and gloves. “Being hopped up on stimulants and sugar doesn’t count.”
“I’m aware of that,” June groused. “And I know my job.”
“I’m not questioning your abilities. Just pointing out it’s hard to stay sharp when you’re exhausted, which you were.”
Baz opened the door, allowing June to move outside ahead of him. He was irritated. She could feel it, see it. She chalked it up to the oppressive darkness. Everyone was edgy and off. Even so, he retained his manners. Even in his bad-boy days, he’d always been a gentleman.
Sexy.
Her stomach fluttered along with her pulse, but it was nothing compared to what she’d felt when she’d realized Baz was about to kiss her. Worse, she’d wanted that kiss. She’d dreamed about that kiss. Her cheeks burned as she thought about the way she’d practically crawled onto his lap. He was here on business. They had a job to do.
Plus she didn’t trust this electric attraction. She didn’t trust Baz. She knew through the grapevine that his magical skills were more powerful than ever. Along with a few key witches from his coven, surely they could bring down this spellcaster. Why did he want to team up with her, especially given the bad blood between them? Just because she was his Keeper? She didn’t buy that. Not only had she not proved herself in any way, her failure to bond properly with the coven upon her return had suggested a lack of confidence or, worse, incompetence. Shame washed over her, and she silently vowed to make amends.
Her mind raced as they walked toward the corner of Howard and Brown. Between the catnap and the frigid wind, she was feeling alert and aware. Four o’clock in the morning, yet almost every house and business sparkled with some sort of illumination. Candles, strings of multicolored holiday lights, icicle lighting, frosted globes, LED snowflakes, stars and Santas, twinkling garlands and wreaths.
So much for saving on the electricity bill.
It was as if everyone, human and Other, was desperate for the enlivening presence of light—even the artificial kind. June could sense the fear pervading the town. The fear of complete darkness and the evil associated with it.
“I need to know more about this Marin,” she said, her breath coming out in billowy plumes. “So stop putting me off.” She didn’t care that her frustration was obvious in her voice. “Why would he do this? What’s his motivation? His goal?”
Baz had steered her left toward Washington Square. “1692 to 93. More than two hundred people were accused of practicing witchcraft.” He cast his gaze to the dark, starless sky. “The Devil’s magic.”
She shivered, unsure where he was going with this, but knowing the story well.
“One hundred and fifty imprisoned,” he went on. “Nineteen condemned and hanged.”
Nineteen innocents.
“The Salem witch trials,” Jun
e joined in. “Spurred by the fits and ravings of three young girls.”
“Who, after a doctor blamed the fits on bewitchment, accused three women of afflicting them.”
“Which ultimately led to mass hysteria and a massive witch hunt.”
“A dark time for Salem and its people.”
June’s stomach knotted as they stopped in front of the Salem Witch Museum—a former church that had been built in the mid-1800s and steeped in religious controversy. The historic brownstone had been a favorite haunt of June’s when she was a kid. She glanced up at the statue of Salem’s founder, Roger Conant, a stunning work of art that was often—and mistakenly—referred to as “the wizard’s statue.”
In her youth, when June had been enamored with witches, she hadn’t thought Conant worthy of the appellation. There had been nothing magical about Roger Conant. That wasn’t to say she didn’t admire the man. He’d been a hard worker and a visionary. Conant and his followers were considered the founding fathers of Naumkeag, renamed Salem for “shalom” or “peace.” How sad and ironic that his noble vision had been forever tainted by the heinous and infamous witch trials.
And now this. This unnatural darkness resulting in a similar hysteria. A curse inflicted by a contemporary warlock. If Baz had brought up the trials, he must have established a link.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m pondering the connection between Marin and the witch trials.”
“And?”
“By invoking darkness, and thereby the Devil, he’s hoping to incite paranoia. Chaos.”
“The logical assumption.”
“But why?” June scrunched her brow. “To incite hatred and fear of witches? That makes no sense. All the human residents think it’s just some weird meteorological phenomenon, and none of the Others seem to have taken against witches en masse. Besides, he’s one of you.”
“Marin was cast out of the coven last spring. He was dabbling in black magic, manipulating the universe for his own ends.” Baz dragged a hand through his already rumpled hair, then leaned against the iron fence surrounding Conant’s statue. He angled his head as though deep in thought. “Marin was fine when he operated as a local defense attorney, but last year he was recruited by a big-name law firm. You were away and would have missed all this, but he brought in several lucrative cases and was promoted to partner within months. That and the media coverage brought him to the attention of several key figures in Boston politics, and it became evident that Marin had developed his own rather lofty political aspirations. Marin’s arrogance was famous within the coven, as was his ambitious nature. His flawless and speedy rise to glory raised suspicions.
“Artemis was the one to home in on the fact that Marin was using black magic to tamper with evidence and influence judiciary decisions—all in the service of attracting personal wealth and power,” Baz continued. “Long story short, Marin was given the choice to change his wicked ways or hit the road or...we’d crush his dreams.”
“Let me guess, he hit the road.”
“No. He dug in. We conferred with Artemis, and the decision to use a spell to banish Marin from Salem was unanimous. Artemis also sent word to magical Keepers in other major cities to be on the lookout for a rogue warlock. We don’t know where he went, but I’m quite certain he’s back and behind this darkness.”
“There’s an argument that banishing spells are black magic.” June raised a brow. “Wasn’t that hypocritical? Not to mention dangerous?”
Baz grinned. “I was careful and quite deliberate with my choice of words.”
“You cast the spell? Not Esmeralda? I would think as the high priestess—”
“Ez hasn’t been faring well for the past year or so.” Baz looked away, but not before betraying a somber expression. “She’s not as strong as she used to be.”
“So you’ve been helping out.”
“That’s what we do for one another around here, Bug.”
Again, June felt a wave of shame. Whether she’d wanted the position or not, she had it now. She was the Keeper of the Witches. She had responsibilities. She should have addressed her new role head-on instead of pussyfooting around. “So what happened?” she asked, eager to focus on the crisis instead of her personal issues. “If you cast the banishing spell, it had to be powerful. How could Marin get back in?”
“I’m not sure. Some sort of counter spell. Maybe a loophole. Looks like he had help within city limits and the Other community.”
“Gantry.”
“For one. There could be more.”
“If there was a counter spell to banishment,” June said reasonably, “there must be a counter spell to this unholy darkness.”
“A powerful talisman would help. Something connected to Marin or to the root of his—”
An explosion rent the air. June gasped and turned in the direction of the ear-splitting boom. Her pulse tripped as the night sky glowed. “Sunrise!”
“Fire.”
Baz grasped her hand, and together they raced toward the sound of sirens and chaos.
Chapter 4
The Episcopalian church that stood a mere block from Twists & Tales was ablaze. June looked on in horror as the sacred building burned.
Firemen were already on-site fighting the mounting inferno. Curious onlookers had gathered in spite of the late hour. Searing heat and uniformed cops kept them at bay. Baz had a firm grip on June’s arm. Not that she felt compelled to rush into the burning building, but she was curious.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” he said, as if reading her mind.
June grinned. “Lucky guess.” Yes, they’d communicated telepathically in the past, but only when she’d been in the form of a cat.
Just then someone burst out of the inferno, laughing maniacally and waving what looked like a fuel can. “The Devil came to me and bid me serve him!”
June gawked. She knew that saying and she knew that man—but what the hell was he doing running free? “Gantry!”
Baz readied for action just as two cops rushed the crazed shapeshifter, who hadn’t even bothered to change form as a means of disguise.
Out of nowhere, lightning struck.
A crackling, blinding bolt that scored a direct hit to Leo Gantry.
The electrical charge knocked him off his feet and sent him flying. He landed flat, flesh smoking.
The onlookers reacted in various ways—some screaming, some gasping—then fell into stunned silence.
All but one, a dazed woman who mumbled, “Struck down by the hand of God.”
June shook her head. “I sense malevolence,” she whispered to Baz. “Magic.”
“Marin.” Baz scanned intently the faces in the growing crowd.
So many people, all of them bundled in layers of outerwear including sock caps, ski masks and scarves. Hard to tell one person from the next. Human from Other.
“I’ll sniff him out,” June said.
“Don’t...”
But she’d already dropped her mitten and stooped to retrieve it, then disappeared into a sea of boots as she shifted into cat form. As a feline with a heightened sixth sense, she could better detect negative energy. Marin was both wicked and powerful. That kind of energy would be unmistakable.
Sleek and swift, June serpentined through the growing crowd, brushing ankles, reading vibes. Mostly human, some Other. A vampire, a werewolf, a witch. Plenty of negative energy. Too much for the holiday season, but everyone was anxious because of the oppressive darkness. And now this horrible fire. But there was something... Something powerful, evil, just over...there!
Shift back, Bug.
Baz’s voice boomed in her head as loudly as if he’d spoken directly in her ear. Years apart hadn’t diminished the strength of their telepathic bond.
I know you can hear me.
I feel him. June homed in on the energy with her psychic radar, her four paws sliding over ice as she zipped toward the source. He’s a she!
What?
The source. It’s...
No. It couldn’t be!
June skidded to a stop two feet from the source of the evil energy, shocked and disbelieving.
It’s what? Who? Dammit, Bug. Where are you?
Old Cemetery, she managed—just before her cousin Sam, Keeper of the Vampires, zapped her with a surge of electricity, knocking her back a dozen feet and straight into a gravestone.
June might have yowled. She couldn’t remember. Dark became darker as her lids drifted shut, her last memories the sound of chaos and the smell of singed fur.
* * *
With a wink and a chant, Baz teleported to the Old Cemetery of St. Peters. He spied June immediately—a small black cat sprawled unmoving against a stark slate tombstone.
Her cousin Samantha Mycroft lay close by, crumpled and unresponsive.
Daniel Riverton, a powerful vampire newly engaged to Sam, swooped in on the heels of Baz. “What the—”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s get them back to Mycroft House,” Daniel said.
Baz didn’t argue. He felt dazed and sickened as he gently scooped June’s limp body into his arms. He smoothed his hand over her sleek fur, speaking his thoughts aloud. “Wake up, baby. Shift back.” She didn’t respond, but thank the universe, she was breathing. By the time he turned, Daniel had already flown off with Sam. Baz rarely teleported, honoring certain magical skills by regulating them to dire or special circumstances.
For the second time in less than a minute, he didn’t think twice.
* * *
If it had been any other Christmas, everyone would have been in their own homes at 4:15 a.m., fast asleep. But there was nothing normal about this Christmas. Mycroft House was buzzing with activity. Sam and June’s Keeper cousins, Roe and Katie Sue, were present. As were their partners, Vaughn and Jett. Pooling their knowledge, they suspected magic had played a role in Gantry’s escape, enabling the slippery shifter to instigate the church fire and additional chaos. They’d arrived at the scene just in time to see Gantry zapped for his efforts. After splitting off but finding themselves unable to pinpoint additional clues, they’d returned to Mycroft House to find Samantha, who’d been placed on the sofa and covered with a quilt, just coming around.
The Keepers: Christmas in Salem: Do You Fear What I Fear?The Fright Before ChristmasUnholy NightStalking in a Winter Wonderland (Harlequin Nocturne) Page 19