She smiled at Zin as he chivalrously lifted her hand. His simple kiss made her molten-dreamy with desire. Even so, she yawned.
Zol released her hand, and Kandace stretched before she could stop herself. She would have toppled over into slumber, except she wanted to know about the human-wolf hybrid.
“This Major Odarran. I have to confess my witchy senses are ringing like a fire alarm.”
“We concur, love. Hades believes a meeting of our canine minds might be achieved, however.” Rising, Zin moved with casual elegance to the other side of the bed.
Who would have thought a man in a smoking jacket would trip her I want trigger? Entranced, Kandace watched him open an Art Deco Waterfall cedar chest.
He withdrew a sumptuous pillow, and placed it beside her. Kandace only recognized the exquisite chest because she and Merri had studied pictures of that era’s furniture.
“I am a pillow lover.” Even though she tried to smile with her appreciation, her mouth didn’t cooperate. Shaking off another yawn, Kandace placed the pillow behind her.
Zol stood, a dashing sight as he placed his hands inside the jacket’s pockets. “If our mutual canine natures do connect, we could learn vital information from the Major.”
“Connect?” Doubtful, Kandace glanced at them both. “Even if you do, wouldn’t it become a territorial lifting of the leg?”
Zin joined Zol, and looking like the bookend twins they were, they regarded her. Their gazes glittered with amusement.
“If a lifting of the leg occurred, ours could be compared to a flamethrower.”
Zin cocked his head, and Zol mirrored him. Kandace swore she almost saw pricked dog ears. She blinked in rapid succession.
“You are seeing our hellhound frequency, darling,” Zol responded before she asked.
“Flamethrower,” she muttered, her imagination running wild.
“Twin flamethrowers.” Zin’s drily spoken quip caused Kandace to grin.
“Imagine if you will,” Zol dramatically crooned. “As hellhounds we lift our legs and fire in opposite directions vanquishing our monstrous enemies.”
Kandace felt her eyes widen as she visualized his words.
“Indeed,” Zin continued “Picture this. We stand snout to tail blasting the charging Cyclops. Or flaming our opponents in Underworld competitions.”
Kandace drew in a sharp breath, then laughed. “I’m sure it’s not funny. But in a weird way it is. Competitions?”
“Similar to sporting games,” Zol explained.
“Oh…omygawd, I’m tired.”
“Lay down, beautiful witch,” they encouraged together.
Kandace quickly slumped against her pillows, and burrowed into the bedding. “What did you put in the tea?”
“Innocent, darling love,” they tenderly uttered.
With her eyelids threatening to close, Kandace watched Zin prepare to remove the tea tray. “Your body’s need for rest is taking over.”
“Night, night,” she uttered from habit.
“We would kiss you, Kandy Apple,” Zol rasped. “However, our carnal appetite would rage out of control.”
“Yes, we would become beastly for you,” Zin growled.
“You two say the sweetest things,” she murmured sleepily. “Wake me in time…”
Feeling boneless, Kandace sank fast. On the edge of slumber, images of her sorcery battle with the Quevj flitted before her mind’s eye. Power up, power up, she chanted to herself, then wondered if it was a foreshadowing of things to come.
Chapter Forty:
Liver with Your Scotch
Zol cocked his head, intrigued by the savage, yet gentle presence of the guaruvyr. Vresc padded toward them, his tail like a lazily moving serpent.
“Meowsssh. I will guard my witch now.”
“Of course,” Zin replied. “I find my curiosity is aroused. Do you know our Kandy’s Enduoirian birth name?”
The winged guardian’s eyes luminesced. The shine, comparable to a hundred Earth moons, faded swiftly.
“I may not know her name until she speaks it.”
“Your knowledge about our Kandy, her Enduoir heritage, is extensive, is it not?” Zin asked.
“I have much knowledge. I may not reveal it without her presence and permission.”
“Quite understood. May we call you Vresc, as well?” Zol asked.
“Whatever pleases my witch, pleases me.” The guaruvyr gave them a cat-satisfied smile.
“Is a display of affection by us welcome?” Zin offered his hand.
Vresc bobbed his head in acceptance, then rubbed his cheek on Zin’s palm. After winding around his twin’s legs, he gracefully trotted toward the bed.
With his silver-glinting wings slightly raised above his back, he laid on the floor close to their Kandy. Arranging himself in a posture of protection, he then slitted his eyes.
“Her guardian is using psi-senses,” Zol voiced what they both realized.
As one, he and Zin switched to their psi-sight. Emanations of energy flared from the guaruvyr, similar to observing the sun’s rays.
Proceeding toward the archway, Zol spun around once he reached it and gazed at his precious witch. His longing burned through him like rivers of lava, and he felt his eyes blaze red for her.
Zin halted beside him, his need equally ferocious. A match for each other, they peered down at their tented smoking jackets.
“Either the Limp as a Politician potion has worn off, or our Kandy Apple is more potent than Persephone’s brew.” Zin’s tone was as dry as one of his shaken martinis.
“She is more potent.” Closing his eyes, Zol barked a low groan, soon echoed by his twin. He stuffed his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. “Shall we attend to our preparations for the Mitchell party, so we can bury our bones later?”
“Indeed. I am bad-to-the-bone for her,” Zin raspy growled.
Synchronous in their movements, they sauntered toward their office cave. The room, surrounded by mountain rock, had been created to be magick or tech impenetrable whenever he and Zin made contact with other hellhounds, supernaturals, or surfed the Globe-net.
Entering the dusk-like interior, Zin moved to their bar. Reaching for the bottle of Talisker, a single malt Scotch whisky, he uncorked it, and poured shots into their glasses.
Because lead leached from the standard crystal glasses, he and Zin had scooped out and smoothed uncut diamonds into glasses, using their vaporous fire.
“Liver with your Scotch, brother?” Zin held up the brown bottle, one brow raised.
“An added splash of liver extract will hit the spot, brother.”
Zol waved his palm over the frosty-white globe, activating it. Larger than a beach ball, it was composed of ionospheric energies, a medium that allowed for both planetary and interplanetary communication.
Approaching, Zin handed him the Scotch. Once they saluted each other, they sniffed for long moments, then tasted.
“The hint of flavor provided by Isle of Sky’s volcanic rock never disappoints.” Zin took a savoring swallow.
Zol followed, letting the Scotch own his palate. “Nor does the peaty elixir from Hawk Hill’s underground springs.”
Simultaneously they sipped again, then seated themselves before the oscillating sphere. Using one hand, Zin played the tone keyboard, connecting to the internet. Next, he brought up the Mitchells’ de rigueur party site. After entering their invitation code, Zin selected the costumes suggestion page.
Zol leaned closer as they focused on the various costume designs. “I am eager to dress our exquisitely lickable Kandy Apple.”
“As am I. She will be enchantingly glamorous.” Zin paused. “And lickable.” The guttural sound of his twin’s voice reflected his need to mate.
“I believe our witch is craving our passionate attentions.” Zol changed position to accommodate his thickening cock.
“Yes, her fragrance for us is sweet musk.” Zin key-toned in the styles that suited their Kandy Apple, then opened the g
lobal map.
Displaying the territories of other hellhounds, he overlaid the images in a search for matching vintage gowns. “Let us hope our brethren hounds are available.”
“Paris, Milan. There are always exceptional evening wear shops.” Zol scanned for other locations. “Vienna, Austria is shown, also. Hold on, brother, I am seeing Florida. Who better than Mario and Lothario?”
“Yes, excellent, who better? I understand they know ballroom gowns as well as the Latin dance styles.”
Syncing their minds, he and Zin telepathed a message, then net-sent images along with the figure size of their witch to Mario and Lothario.
“Perhaps we should have been mindful of their plans for a Halloween celebration,” Zol mused afterward.
“They won’t receive our communications if they’re on a mission,” Zin reminded, as he keyed in a search of their favorite online boutiques.
With the results less than stellar, Zol cocked his head pondering over their last-minute predicament. “We must prevail, brother, for the sake of our Kandy Apple.”
Zin growled his frustration. Together, they lifted their glasses for bracing swallows of Scotch.
“Rhetta.” He and Zin spoke together, their gazes locking. Indeed, she keeps her place open until the witching hour on All Hallow’s Eve.
Rhetta owned a highly successful magick shop on the northern outskirts of Sacramento. Not only did her two-story shop carry supplies for rituals and spells, but also jewelry and elaborate costumes.
The Druid Priestess, alive since her people journeyed to Ireland, preferred to remain anonymous in these technology-ruled times. Having aligned herself with Hades at times, she had psi-known their true natures when they’d first met her at a Winter Solstice celebration.
Stilling themselves, he and Zin mentally reached out to Rhetta. In moments, she answered, and after their brief explanation, granted them permission to psychically peruse her shop.
Finding a new delight in shopping for their witch, he and Zin soon discovered everything on their list, and more—the one exception being a vintage gown.
Dragon delivery? Rhetta inquired, once they’d used her magickal pen and ink to write out their order.
Flight haste, indeed. We have dragon biscuits.
They heard Rhetta’s laugher. That will be the fast wind beneath Pendor’s wings.
Samhain blessings, he and Zin chorused.
I must meet your one witch soon, Zolivar and Zindale. Samhain blessings.
Rising, Zin collected their empty Scotch glasses. “I will meet Pendor, make payment, and give him his volcanic treats.”
Zol gave a nod and they separated their minds somewhat as Zin departed. Dancing his fingers over the keys, Zol checked the remaining sites.
Finding nothing, he reviewed the few suitable gowns. However, the fit and style did not measure up to his Kandy Apple. After another quick search of internet shops, urgency clawed at him like the Wendigo he’d gone claw-to-clawed-toe with.
The other-dimension monster had been slipped through a portal by beings who despised humanity. Unchallenged, it had eaten several campers near the Great Lakes and terrorized others.
Composed of wind, and the flesh of an evil race long since banished from Earth, the Wendigo always proved to be a fearsome opponent. Since other hellhounds had been on vital missions, he and Zin volunteered to destroy the Big Foot-sized shapeshifter.
Despite their youthful inexperience, they convinced Hades. Once they’d dutifully listened to the god’s cautionary scolding, he and Zin morphed.
Already ablaze, they plunged through the crack in the ground Hades created for them. As they chased the wind-traveling beast, licks of their flame scorched his heels.
Baited by their unending attack, the Wendigo spun around, roared with a storm’s fury, then engulfed them with his constantly altering flesh. Only after days of battling, had he and Zin won a final victory.
With their life blazes nearly extinguished, Hades placed them within his rejuvenation cave. For several months, the focused energies of water, wind, fire, and Gaia herself healed them.
“An encounter with such a beast almost seems preferable,” Zol muttered, aching with the need to please his one witch.
Leaning backward, he stretched, and stared at the screen. A sense of despair dogged him, an emotion he’d rarely experienced.
Because he and Zin had found their one witch, his human side grew. Now more complex feelings would arise. That both thrilled him and gave Zol great pause.
Glimpsing the time, he took a look at their timeline. Zol growled.
Chapter Forty-One:
Black Velvet Witch’s Hat
A premonition seized Zin. Disturbing and vague, the feeling twined around his heart. Within the same moment, he watched Pendor glide toward their main room’s balcony, an immense affair carved out of the surrounding mountain.
Even though the dragon shielded himself with invisibility, the late afternoon sun bejeweled his shape. He appeared to be dusted by silver and gold. Stretching his huge wings, Pendor banked in a tight half circle, then landed on their dragon perch.
With the bucket of lava briquettes in hand, Zin approached. “Greetings, cousin dragon.”
Revealing his slim spiked head, Pendor gazed eagerly, his giant eyes midnight blue orbs. Most dragons and hellhounds adored the mineral-rich treat only collected by Hades and his demigods from antediluvian beds of lava.
Enjoying himself, Zin tossed several dragon biscuits, as they were commonly called. Pendor snapped them out of the air, savoring each one as he chomped it down.
With his eyes squinched and a smile on his face, the dragon settled his body lower. Once he made their purchases visible, Zin unhooked the leather-wrapped bundles from the delivery harness.
Afterward, he reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out the small suede pouch. The two prized philosopher stones inside had been formed by Persephone’s own hand.
While visiting her mother, Demeter, she gathered the etheric energies of new growth. Closing them against her palm, Persephone condensed the delicate rays into crystals.
Only hellhounds of his and Zol’s stature were allowed to present the stones to their one witch and use them as a form of payment. As well, only trusted Sourceresses and Sourcerers like Rhetta were allowed use of the stones.
Once Zin placed the pouch inside the brass chest Pendor had made visible, he secured it, then patted the dragon’s scale-slick neck. “Safe travels, cousin dragon. Don’t spit fire into the wind,” he ribbed.
Pendor snorted chuckles as he raised his great body. He hopped a turn, and launched from the perch. Flapping his wings furiously, he flew high. Once he soared on the prevailing wind, his shape could only be seen as a pattern of sun diamonds.
Anticipating his witch’s happiness, Zin gathered up the packages and the bucket. As he carried them inside, his twin’s angst over a gown for their Kandy Apple hit him. Do you need my assistance, brother. Or shall I attend to our costumes?
Our costumes, brother. It appears as though we are in need of a Samhain miracle.
We shall prevail.
Indeed. As we did over the Wendigo.
Zin’s brows lifted toward the ceiling. He suppressed his urge to suggest they create a time slip. With their recent manipulations, it could prove disastrous.
Having deliberately lessened their connection to concentrate on his tasks, now Zol’s distress swamped him. Obviously, however, his twin did not believe their combined efforts would afford success.
With time of the essence—and a nagging sense that the trickster’s paws dug a trap—Zin decided extra careful preparations were needed for the Mitchell party.
He placed the bucket in its hollowed-out spot in the kitchen. Then, carrying the assorted bundles, Zin strode toward the area of their dressing room reserved for party costumes.
Given their regular attendance at masquerade balls, historical-themed events, and every manner of social festivity, he and Zol possessed a large
collection of costumes and accessories.
Tempted to open the packages first, Zin set them beside the doorway. Instead, he mentally surveyed the contents, not wanting to deprive Zol.
Moments later, Zin pulled out their forties-style tuxedos, each a bit different in style. Once he’d inspected each garment, he hung the tuxes beside to two full length mirrors. Shoes, polished to a high shine, followed, along with appropriate underwear.
Next, Zin moved to an ornate chest carved from obsidian lava. Within were the mid-calf capes he and Zol used to affect the look of a high-fashion warlock. Made out of fine-weave black wool, his cape was trimmed with silver and bronze thread, while Zol’s had the same Celtic design in gold and copper.
Unrolling each cape, Zin then shook them out, and inhaled with enjoyment. Zol had infused the woolen fabric with resins of sandalwood, frankincense, and myrrh.
As he draped the full-flowing capes on separate stands near the tuxes, Zin basked in the exotic and mystical blend of fragrances. Moving toward a small cherry wood wardrobe, he glanced at their grooming tables to make certain all their supplies were set out properly.
Satisfied, Zin opened the wardrobe and withdrew two sorcerer’s staffs. Simple in design, the staffs were made of Macassar Ebony, and polished to a high shine.
They differed only in the sphere that topped them. A globe of mahogany obsidian sat atop Zin’s staff while clear quartz crystal adorned his brother’s staff.
Mindful of his influence, Zin neutralized his energy as he carried them. Even though they did not use them for the practice of sorcery, he and his twin respected their potential magick.
After placing Zol’s staff on his ottoman, Zin admired the black and cinnabar red coloring of his sphere. Once he laid it on his ottoman, he took a second look to make certain all was in order.
With a sense of urgency, Zin retrieved the packages and strode toward the dressing room designed for their one witch.
Finished, brother, he announced to Zol, but didn’t mind-intrude.
I am waiting on a return message from Mario and Lothario. They have contacted and are able to search for a gown.
Kougar, Savanna - Kandy Apple and Her Hellhounds (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 23