The Witch and the Stag

by Victoria Rogers

  Cedric caught his breath before stepping away so he could help Madeline up. She swayed on her feet, but he had her, holding her steady.

  “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Mmm, thank you,” she hummed happily.

  Chapter Six

  So soft, Cedric thought, running his thumb along Madeline’s upper arm. She turned in the sheets and snuggled up against him. His heart skipped a beat and he kissed her lightly.

  He was falling in love. There was no denying it. By the gods, he thought of her every moment of the day. The way her mouth crooked when she was about to say something impish, or how she always tapped the center of her bottom lip when she was deep in thought. She was soft and light and good.

  “You’re supposed to be reading,” she said, brushing her forefinger against the tip of his nose.

  “I am reading.”

  Her laugh was a delightful burst of joy. “Liar. I saw you watching me.”

  “I was reading you.”

  “Ha! And what did you learn?”

  “You have soft skin,” he said. He trailed kisses down her arm.

  “I moisturize daily.”

  “You’re capable and confident.”

  Maddy rolled away from him and out of bed, dancing past his reaching arms. “Oh! Now you’re talking my language. Keep talking to me like that.”

  “You’re powerful. Funny. Intelligent,” Cedric continued.

  “No need to stop now. You’re just getting started.” She picked up his navy button down and put it on, leaving it unbuttoned. Gods, she was something else.

  “Sexy.”

  “Well, folks, I think he’s running out of words,” she said as she picked up her abandoned glass of wine on the counter. She grinned over the rim of her glass. “C’mon. We haven’t found our Witch Hunter in the grimoires yet.”

  Cedric groaned. “But it’s so warm and comfortable in here.” She had an excellent mattress. The pillowtop on this mattress was top-notch comfort.

  “C’mon! Up! Up! You’ll fall asleep on me in there.”

  “Fine!” he said with a laugh. “But you need to take that shirt off, Madeline.” He watched her brows go high. She inhaled sharply through her nose. Ah. He loved having this effect on her. It was intoxicating. He knew how she felt because she did the same thing to him.

  She hugged it around herself and did a half twirl. “Why? I like it.”

  “Because I want to gaze at the body the gods gave you.” He loved seeing the curve of her breasts through the open shirt front, but he wanted the view of her hips and ass too.

  The corner of her mouth quirked upward. She shrugged out of it, and it slipped to the plush rug beneath her feet.

  “Come here,” he said arm extended.

  She took her damned time doing it. One careful step after another, hips rocking from side to side. Cedric watched, mesmerised.

  “Fair is fair,” she said when standing directly in front of him. She bent at the waist, picked up a book from the table, and handed it out to him. “Time to read.”

  It was well past midnight when he found the passage. They were both back in bed at this point, wine bottle empty, bedside lamps on. It was comfortable lying in bed with her like this. He could easily fall asleep next to her every night, her turning pages and muttering to herself. Sometimes letting out a laugh and sharing some detail or another of what she was reading.

  His stomach sank as he read.

  Witch Hunter Niall Dunlea sealed a contract with a devil and has haunted our family since with such tenacity that it can only be assumed that the devil gave him power beyond his means. In blood, Dunlea was survived by his wife Shannon (nee Bligh) along with three children. The most I can ascertain is that he perished on the sea voyage from Ireland.

  Cedric stared at the page. Bligh? Shannon Bligh? That name rang a bell in the recesses of his memory. Was that the woman who came over? Was…

  No. No, it couldn’t be. There was something he could check though, to make sure.

  He got out of bed.

  “Where you going?”

  He stepped into his briefs and grabbed his jeans. “I need to check something at home.”

  “Now?” She looked at him, confusion written all over her face.

  He zipped the fly, fastened the top button, and found his shirt on the floor where Madeline had discarded it. “I’ll call you in the morning,” he said, walking over to the bed to give her a quick kiss before leaving.

  She grabbed his arm. “What’s up?”

  He looked down at her and sighed. She deserved to know the truth. “There’s something I gotta check at home. Something to do with Dunlea. There may be a connection to someone in my family.” When she stared at him, he nodded at the journal he had left on the bed. “It’s in the book. I’ll call you.”

  Gods, he thought. This cannot get any weirder.

  * * *

  Maddy listened as the front door shut behind Cedric. She frowned, her mouth downturned and brows furrowed. What, by the gods, was that all about? With a sigh she got out of bed, slid into her ivory terrycloth robe, and went down the stairs to lock the door behind him.

  She closed the black sliding gate at the top of the stairs, slid the bolt, and wandered back to the bed. She sat down on the edge and picked up the journal he’d been reading. This one had the ornate stylings of the Victorian period with curlicues and cherubs embossed into the leather. She flipped to the first page and found the name of Cecily McKinley. Her mother had been right after all.

  Not knowing where or what Cedric found she started at the beginning, her eyes searching the neat, but cramped, cursive for the words Witch Hunter, Dunlea, and Aileen. Cecily had been a no-nonsense puritan from what Maddy could tell and found the woman’s writing dull. She spent a fair amount of time discussing the habits of her neighbors and not enough time on spell craft. She supposed the diary would be a prize to historians but right now she wanted one thing and one thing only: information about the damned poltergeist.

  Her eyes were glazing over when she found it.

  There is the curious case of the family poltergeist. I had only heard tales of our foul-tempered spectre until this night. His arrival was heralded by a crash in the dining room. The servants were in a fretful state from the commotion, some believing we were in the process of being burgled. He stood near the fireplace, ready to throw Uncle Stewart’s ashes when I arrived on the scene.

  I banished him, though I do not know for how long as I only had the porcelain dinner bell at hand. I would rather he did not return for he lashed out with such invective rubbish one of the maids went into a fit declaring she could no longer stay in the house. Mrs. McLaughlin talked sense into the lass in the end, but soothing a histrionic maid in the wee hours of the morning is not something I am accustomed to.

  I must research more. I believe Ingrid has some of the older grimoires. I shall call upon her tomorrow.

  Maddy stared at the page. This was wonderful! This was the most she had found on Dunlea in the last two days. She got up and put the kettle on for tea. It was Felicity’s half day tomorrow, so she had time to sleep in the morning since she wasn’t going in until the afternoon.

  She sat at the island while she waited for the water to boil and continued reading. The next few entries were entirely without interest talking about some dinner party a neighbor had thrown and not invited Cecily to. And then she saw it. The part Cedric must have found.

  Dunlea was survived by his wife Shannon (nee Bligh) along with three children.

  By the gods! Was Dunlea, Niall Dunlea, an ancestor of Cedric’s? A chill went down Maddy’s spine. Was she sleeping with the descendant of a man who had chased down the McKinley women for nearly fourteen generations? She stared at the words silently for a moment as the kettle let out three quick beeps to signify the water was ready.

  Ok, Maddy. What do you think of this? What does this mean?

  She thought hard as she pulled an Earl Grey teabag from the box and opened
the cupboard door for a mug.

  How did she feel? She poured water into the black mug and sat back down on the stool.

  I’m not sure.

  The coincidence was through the roof and that shook her. It had to have a meaning of some kind, didn’t it? Whatever it was trying to tell her she couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. Was it fated? Was it just a matter of time? Serenity was only two hundred and fifty thousand population-wise. A McKinley and Bligh were bound to meet some day.

  Maddy set her mug down and went to grab her favorite oracle deck from the bookshelf. It was her favorite deck with watercolor herbs on stark ivory cardstock. She’d picked it up at an art show in college. Every card was handmade by one of the art students, and Maddy was thankful to own them. They rang true to her.

  She sank down onto her knees in front of the coffee table and opened the deck box. She slid the cards out and shuffled them. It was easy to keep her mind on the task at hand. How could she not think about it?

  She drew three cards. Past. Present. Future. First to turn was Mustard. The mustard seed was often used to denote faith, to have protection from both physical and mental antagonisms. So, in the past there was faith and protection. Was that her faith in Cedric? Cernunnos? Or something completely different? She pressed her lips together and turned the second card. The present.

  Eucalyptus. Eucalyptus was used for cleansing. Now was the time for cleansing, she agreed. It was high time Dunlea was dealt with for good. She liked Serenity, and she planned to stay. She refused to be haunted by some jackass for the rest of her life.

  The third card was Mugwort with its frilly green leaves and stalks. The future told of intuition, then. She was to follow her gut.

  Have faith, cleanse, and follow her intuition. The thing was, what did her intuition have to say? Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings. She wasn’t quite sure what to think. It was overwhelming.

  She turned over a fourth card, just to see what channel of thought it would guide her down. She laughed out loud at the answer.

  The rose, the symbol of romance.

  Wiping tears from her eyes, she continued to chuckle as she got up to get her tea.

  The cards were adamant for her to explore the relationship blossoming with Cedric. Have faith! Well, Cedric was entangled with her faith at its core. The horned god was a foundational building block of both her faith and identity. His parentage was startling and terrifying but at the same time soothing and natural. It didn’t make much sense, but when did matters of faith make sense?

  Cleansing, well, that was easy. Dunlea needed to be ritually put to rest -- permanently. It was time for his soul to rejoin the wheel. Five centuries was long enough to eke out an existence outside the natural flow of life.

  The third and fourth cards had been clear. Follow her intuition when it came to love, and right now her gut told her to pursue Cedric. Moments with him were cherished and special. It had been a long time since she had been in a relationship with someone, and she had forgotten the butterflies and giddiness of a new romance. It made life brighter, as if the light caught everything in a warm glow.

  She sat on the kitchen stool for a while longer, staring into nothing, and simply lived in the moment, basking in the feelings that love brought to the surface.

  Chapter Seven

  Cedric tossed his keys onto the small table by the door and flicked the switch for the overhead lights. He lived in a high rise about fifteen minutes in good traffic from the bar. With a corner apartment near the top floor, he had an extensive balcony and many windows. During the day he was awash in light, often bathed in the reflection of sunlight from neighboring buildings. The central air worked overtime in the summer but the heater had it easy in the winter.

  While Madeline’s loft was all wood, light and a kaleidoscope of color, his apartment was decidedly mid-century modern. He enjoyed the clean lines and sleek curves of the period. His apartment was carefully curated to enhance efficiency and ease.

  He went to the wet bar and poured himself a small bourbon. He took a sip and stared at the bottle. The liquid was almost the color of Madeline’s hair.

  “Madeline,” he said her name aloud, savoring her name on his tongue.

  Since he had time to process the information he gleaned from the journal on the drive over, he now felt pretty foolish for leaving as abruptly as he did. It had been a shock to see his family name there, and still was if he was being honest with himself. Falling for a witch was one thing, but somehow being tied to her family by history? By a poltergeist who had made a deal with a devil? He tipped back his glass and took a deep drink.

  After setting his glass in the sink, he strode toward the dresser by the door. He opened the second drawer from the right and pulled out a wooden box. He set the box down on the dining room table and from it lifted an old, leather-bound book. It was just as old as the grimoires Madeline had.

  This was the family Bible. Generations of the Bligh family were listed in this book. It wasn’t the original -- that had been destroyed in a fire, but not before it had been copied. If Cedric’s suspicions were correct, then Shannon’s birth and her marriage would be documented near the beginning.

  Carefully, using the gloves he kept in the box with the book, he opened it and started to scan down the convoluted family tree. There. Shannon Bligh’s birth. He inhaled deeply. And there was her marriage to Niall Dunlea in 1654. They had three children, just like Cecily wrote in her journal.

  Cedric rubbed his face with his right hand. So, this is what Dunlea had meant when he called him kin at the pond: they were relatives. He grimaced.

  He took some photos of the entries with his phone and texted them Maddy’s way.

  Fuck, he typed out. He wasn’t sure how she’d take it. Would she be put off with the association? Would she be creeped out by it, by him? His stomach twisted into knots.

  He went back to the bar and took his glass out of the sink, drying the bottom on his pant leg. He was pouring another glass of bourbon when his phone pinged.

  Well, at least we know!

  What did that mean? Was she just being nice or was she really that accepting? He wanted to think the latter, but everything was damned confusing. What was the protocol when you had to tell your girlfriend, “Hey, hon, my dead relative is the one who’s stalking and harassing you.”

  Before he could reply his phone buzzed again. You should come back.

  The tension in his shoulders disappeared at those words. His stomach settled. Well, she was obviously accepting.

  We both work tomorrow. It wasn’t the sexiest of answers, but it was the truth. And it was nearing two in the morning.

  He settled into his brown leather couch and stared out into the city night. He took a sip of his drink. Maybe he should go over. Another buzz.

  He tapped the screen back on and smiled. There was a picture of her in bed with one shoulder coyly exposed, a finger in her mouth, and teeth just visible. She had taken her hair out of its braid, and it splayed across the pillow in red swirls. He could smell the fruity scent of her shampoo through the screen.

  You’re makin’ this hard.

  It wasn’t until after he sent that text that he realized it could be misconstrued as something else entirely. However, that was probably the point.

  Good.

  Cedric laughed. I’m gonna stay here tonight. I can come over tomorrow after work.

  This time the picture was of Madeline lying on her side, breasts bare, the tip of her tongue licking her upper lip. He inhaled sharply and placed his glass on the side table.

  He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. He took a few selfies and ended up choosing the one he angled slightly from above so she could see all his abs. He looked at his phone and slid a hand to his fly. Was sending her a picture of his cock acceptable? It wasn’t an unsolicited dick pic, was it? He shook his head. No. It was definitely solicited with these pictures.

  * * *

  “Why, hello there, Mr. Bligh,” Maddy sai
d aloud when her phone dinged at her. She grinned. How in the gods’ names did she end up with a tasty morsel like him?

  She stood up on her bed and reached up to put her phone on the still ceiling fan, the camera just sticking over the edge. Then she lay back down underneath it. She arranged her legs so he wouldn’t be able to exactly see anything, but she placed her hand on her stomach, fingers reaching downward.

  “Computer, take a photo in three seconds.”

  The phone beeped its countdown and she looked straight up at the lens.

  “Computer, take a photo in three seconds.”

  She kept her body pose the same but this time turned her head to the side so she would be looking up through the corners of her eyes. After she had clambered back up to retrieve her phone, she chose the second photo.

  You know exactly how to turn a girl on, she texted with it.

  She could not help but giggle at how fast his reply came. He must have been taking a photo of his dick while she was taking her own. He had a nice cock. It was just above average in length, but his girth was something to be admired. She looked forward to having it in her mouth. Something about the idea of giving him head excited her in all the right ways.

  You are breathtaking.

  Maddy felt a surge of giddiness wash through her. You’re hot af and I wish you were here, she wrote back.

  So impatient. You’ll have me all to yourself tomorrow.

  She reached over and pulled out her Hitachi from the bedside table. She snapped a pic of it before leaning over the edge of the bed to plug it into the power bar. She sent the photo over.

  Now look what you have me doing. She smiled as she pressed send.

  Tell me how that thing feels.

  Ah. She loved a man who wasn’t scared of toys. Cedric just got better and better.