Her phone went off and she cursed. Damn. She’d forgotten to text Isabel. Dragging out her descent, she punched in a quick text.
I’m fine. Going to meeting. Catch u ltr.
Bridget dropped the phone back in her purse and smiled. She owed Isabel big time. Spelled shoes or not, the night had been magical, and so had the start of the day. Reality had come all too soon.
She wasn’t sorry. She’d crept from Alistair’s bed in the early hours of the morning and let herself out of the hotel room as quietly as possible. But, when she’d stepped from the safety of the room, she found herself looking at a single white feather in front of his door and her heart stuttered at the find.
Was the Nephilim among them or had it been a coincidence? The last time she’d seen the man in white had been at her hanging. He and Mr. Black had a stare down and the angel spawn had walked away, but not before giving her a bone-chilling look. Something Merryn had told her about the night she was chased filtered through her, but Bridget had been so horrified by finding her and Damien entwined in her office she’d gotten them out as soon as could be arranged. That had been a mistake.
Like she had any room to talk. Her behavior last night was nothing short of scandalous. When she got home, she’d flung the shoes into the back of her closet and shut the door, hoping that would be the end of it. A long shower, a grilled cheese sandwich and another bout of sleep hadn’t cured whatever was niggling at her, and she still saw Alistair’s eyes as he sank into her body. A wolf’s eyes.
His bite still tingled and the flesh around it ached. She’d covered it up as best she could with a black scarf to match her dress, but she was more afraid of one of the witches seeing the passion in her gaze.
The heels she’d allowed herself to purchase for the occasion pinched her toes, the new sleeveless dress she wore hardly a barrier to the October wind. Black with a faint shimmer of gold, the dress showcased her markings and made a statement to every witch there. She would not be put out of her own city. Not again. The time had come for her to speak up. More murders and another attack just down the street from her shop made her fear for her employee’s safety.
Salem was abuzz with its annual Haunted Happenings events. Filled with the Psychic Fairs, endless tourist attractions and—her favorite—The Witch’s Ball. She’d gone every year but this one since she returned to Salem over two centuries ago, and she took great pleasure in being the oldest living which among them. Something she was fairly certain Charity Hobbs detested with all of her being.
The markings on her arms flexed and whispered against her flesh, each of the curses still alive after centuries etched into her skin. One in particular made her smile. Bridget wondered if Charity knew her ancestor Deliverance had asked for a spell to cure her barren womb. The irony was not lost on her, but the woman sitting at the head of Salem’s table was the very result of her curse work and Charity knew it. Thank goddess she wouldn’t be at this meeting tonight.
Bridget eased open the door and shut it quickly behind her, making sure the wards were in place. It wouldn’t do to have someone, or something, attempt to follow her inside.
She heard the din of the women and hurried inside, knowing they wouldn’t start without her. As per usual, the leaders sat at the table in front of the room while the rest of the coven sat in folding chairs facing the front.
“Ah, I see you’ve joined us.” Matilda stood at the head of the table and nodded to her as Bridget lowered into a chair toward the back of the room.
“Yes. Please, excuse my tardiness.” Bridget nodded at the rest of the women. Normally used as a space for joint workings, tonight would be for something different. Twenty or so witches gathered, and Bridget hoped the meeting would be a quick one so she could go home and sink back into her daydreams.
A young woman with long dark hair and haunted eyes sat with Matilda at the front table and, judging by the whispering and unhappy mutterings around her, Bridget guessed she wasn’t entirely welcome.
“Thank you. Now that we are all present, I want to introduce you to a special guest. I’ll apologize to those who were set to present a series on seasonal spell working this evening, but certain events in town have taken precedence.”
Matilda met the gaze of each member of the audience and continued. “I would very much like to introduce Laurel of the Briarwood Pack. Please make her feel welcome.”
The din in the small cellar rose to a fever pitch. Witches all around stood, their faces contorted in anger and, in some cases, rage.
A short, red headed woman stepped into the aisle. “You dare to bring a wolf among us? Are you mad?”
“Her kind are murdering witches. Didn’t you see the news? More bodies. Those two girls in the woods not far from here.”
“Quiet. All of you.” Matilda strode in front of the gathering. “Laurel is here as a bridge of faith between our two peoples. She has as much to lose as we do.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” muttered one witch to the right of Bridget. “She can kill us all and leave. No one could stop her.”
Emotions rolled through Bridget and all she could think of were Alistair’s hands and the caring he’d shown when he made love to her last night. She’d started to leave him her phone number but, in the end, slipped from the room when he was still sleeping. It was easier this way. But as she listened to the accusations fly, she couldn’t help being reminded of when she was on the other side of the line and on trial for her life.
“I don’t think that’s necessarily true.” Bridget spoke up, her eyes meeting Laurel’s from across the room. “Speak, Laurel. We want to hear what you have to say. Tell us we have nothing to fear from your words.”
The young woman stood, smoothing her hands down the front of her jeans. “I wish I could say that you have nothing to fear. I come to you tonight with a plea for peace and your assistance. Forgive me. I am speaking out of turn… my Alpha…” Laurel paused and sucked in a breath, lifting her eyes to the crowd of twenty witches before her.
“My Alpha has gone rogue. He’s missing somewhere in the woods within the Briarwood Estate. His wife was found murdered recently. Some of you may have known her. Julia Grey was a member of this coven for many years.”
“She never stopped being a member of this coven.” A blond witch muttered from a few seats over and Bridget winced.
“You’re right. She didn’t, but my Alpha didn’t know that. As part of her vows he made her promise not to practice. I don’t hold with that line of thinking, nor do most of the wolves in Briarwood. But I do know there is a killer out there somewhere . I just don’t know if that killer is after witches, or if Duncan has lost his mind.”
Bridget took a deep breath.
Matilda laid a hand on the young wolf’s back. “Go ahead. Tell them. Maybe one of us can help you.”
“In Julia’s room, we found a plate of distressed bones. They had strange symbols carved into them and on her forehead; either Duncan or someone else drew this in blood.” She picked up a series of color photographs, holding them up to the room at large. Laurel walked to the nearest witch and handed it to her. “Will you please pass these down? If any of you has any idea what these symbols mean, I would really like your input. Oh, and one more thing. Whoever was there took Julia’s head off with some kind of sword. A single white feather was found resting beneath the settee. Thank you.”
Bridget grew cold and, by the time the pictures reached her, she knew exactly what she was going to see. Something Laurel said about the bones rang true with what Merryn had mentioned to her. It was the feather, however, that gave her pause. On shaking legs, Bridget stood.
“Come by my shop. Two hours.” With that, Bridget clamored from her seat and burst out into the night. The Nephilim was back.
Chapter Nine
“You want a cigarette?” Bridget stared down at Merryn, her part time employee, as she fidgeted in the office chair. Damien, her newly acquired lover and annoyingly smug lust demon, stood behind her with h
is hand on her shoulder. She’d just caught them in a lip lock and tried not to succumb to the lecture building up inside her. Like she should talk with her scandalous behavior at the party a few nights earlier.
Bridget had discovered them wrapped in an intimate embrace a week or so earlier when she had to go and see a gentleman about a curse. He hadn’t wanted to be seen at the shop, so she had gone to him. After waiting two hours at the Copper Kettle for him, she’d given up and headed back to the shop. She’d asked the lust demon to come and wait for Merryn, but instead of passing on the message and working on figures like she’d requested, he’d been working over her best employee.
“No. Sorry.” Merryn blushed and fidgeted in the chair.
“What she’s trying to say is… I distracted her, rolled her up in a cloud of passion and made her forget what was upsetting her for a little while. Again.”
Merryn scowled, craning her neck so she could look up at him. “I didn’t forget.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Jerk.” Merryn wiggled out from under his grip and stood up, moving across the room to stand by the now closed door to Bridget’s back office.
“Look, I need you to tell me what happened that night, aside from the obvious.” Bridget rubbed her fingers against her temples. She hadn’t wanted to see what was in the pictures at the council meeting, nor had she expected to find a feather outside of the room while she was inside with Alistair. Laurel would be here soon and she would find out more. “I have someone coming by and I want you to talk with her.”
Just then, the bell to the door at the front of the shop sounded and Bridget rose. Her watch indicated two hours. At least the wolf was prompt. Damien and Merryn followed her out into the main part of the shop.
“I hope you don’t mind. The door was open.” Laurel approached, tugging a strand of dark hair out of her face.
“Not at all. Welcome. Merryn. Damien. This is Laurel. She might have some information we can use to figure out what’s been happening here.”
“Good evening, Laurel.” Damien smiled. “Would you like to sit?” He indicated a seat in the book room.
“Yes. Please.”
“I’ll just go lock the door.” He hurried toward the front, swinging the open sign to closed and twisting the lock into place.
Laurel lowered herself onto the couch, a folder and bag clutched in her hand.
“Let’s get to it, shall we? Merryn, you start and tell us what happened.” Bridget leaned against the wall, her eyes never leaving her guest.
“I was at school and I forgot my notes.” Merryn started. “I was talking with Cynthia, you know the blonde girl? She’s been in here a couple of times. By the way, she really wants one of those stupid witch hats when you get them back in.”
“Merryn…” Bridget frowned, motioning with her hand to continue.
“Anyway, I went down the hallway and had to kneel down to put something in my bag. Two people came out of the lab. I couldn’t see who they were, but one of them sounded like my professor. They were talking about something they found and they were really upset.”
“What class is this? Had you been in there earlier in the day?”
“Yes,” Merryn nodded and tucked a strand of mussed blond hair behind her left ear. “The class is Alchemy of forensic osteology.”
“The study of spell craft as related to bones. What were you doing?” Bridget went out into the small kitchen space, weary to the core. “Follow me. I need some tea.”
Merryn started. “Sure. Do you want me to make it?”
“Fine. Cranberry blood orange please.”
“I’ll take one too.” Damien started, then stopped speaking and moved to the front windows, peering out into the night. “Laurel? Do you want some tea?”
“Yes, please. That would be great.”
“Great. I’ll get it. You all sit. You can hear me from the kitchen.” Merryn fussed with the canisters. “We were analyzing some of the bones from recent crime scenes. You know, the ones killed by the wolves? Sorry, Laurel.” She grabbed four teacups from the cabinet.
“They were all there, laid out on stainless steel gurneys covered with bones. Charted and numbered and arranged. It was fine. Gloves. Full of students. Well, in the daytime anyway.” Merry poured hot water into a teapot and measured out the loose tea, letting it steep.
“Nothing out of the ordinary?”
“Nope.”
“What happened?”
“That was the weird thing. When I went back in after class, the sheet was rumpled and I went over to see, you know, what they were talking about. Well, I accidentally touched the bones. They were laid out just like the rest, but these had funny markings on them and when I touched them I saw things.”
Merryn looked away.
“What things?” Laurel inquired as Merryn handed her a steaming hot cup.
Merryn poured out another cup and gave it to Damien. “I saw how she died. That pixie from the news. It was terrible.”
Damien brushed his hand down the side of her face, kissing her on the forehead.
Merryn straightened. “Right. Tea.” She went for the last two cups and poured.
“God Merryn, why didn’t you text me?”
“I know. I should have. But you were busy getting ready for the Psychic Fair. When I got to the shop Damien said you’d be coming back soon and then everything happened. We didn’t get to really talk about it after that.” Merryn flushed and looked away.
Bridget groaned, feeling like the worst person ever. “I’m sorry. I should have talked to you that night. I was just a little disconcerted seeing the two of you there.”
“Yeah, me too, but I wasn’t afraid after that. Well, not as much anyway.” Damien came and put his hand in hers.
“This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. Whatever is stalking your people, it seems like they’re using mine to get to you. I don’t understand.” Laurel clutched the teacup in her hand.
Merryn handed Bridget her tea and settled against the counter with her own cup.
“It’s okay.” Bridget started, but Laurel cut her off.
“No, it isn’t. I want you to come to Briarwood. You need to see what happened there and maybe some sense can be made of it. When I came to the meeting tonight I thought maybe you would be there. I heard of your shop. The curse workings. All of it. Not just anyone could understand this, but I thought you might have an insight.”
“When do you want me?” Her thoughts were in turmoil. She should be with the rest of the witches in town center tomorrow, but this was more important. She’d probably met Julia once at one of the coven meetings, but even still things about her rang too many bells.
“Tomorrow? Would that be soon enough?” Laurel took a sip of tea and grimaced, putting it down on the table next to the couch.
“Samhain?” Bridget swallowed. “Okay. Do you want Merryn to come along to help?”
“Don’t you have class?”
“Nope. Tomorrow’s a holiday. Witch’s New Year.”
“If Merryn’s going, so am I.” Damien piped up.
“Well, then. It’s settled.” Bridget drained her cup and walked over to place it on the counter.
“Yep. Trick or treating at the big werewolf house. Just what I needed to make me less afraid.”
“I’ll be with you, honey.”
“Oh boy.” Bridget sighed, the curses shifting like smoke over her skin. This would lead her to something important, but she was having trouble thinking past a certain werewolf with the moon shining in his eyes and how much she wanted to find him inside of her treat bag. Maybe then this would all be worth it.
“I have to get back. My Beta will be looking for me.” Laurel stood and ambled toward the door. “What time can we expect you?”
“How about seven?”
“That should be fine.” The wolf laid a hand on the door knob in preparation to leave.
“Please tell your Beta that we’ll do our best.”
“I’m s
ure Alistair will be happy with whatever help you can give us. Until tomorrow then.”
Of course his name was Alistair. A rush of warmth came to Bridget’s cheeks and a happy bubble of hope encircled her. She was going to see him again after all.
Laurel left, letting the door shut behind her and Bridget started to laugh.
“Why on earth are you laughing?”
“Because the Goddess has a sense of humor.”
“Okaaaaay.” Merryn gave Bridget a strange look and grabbed her bag. “I think the boss has finally cracked. I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow at Briarwood.”
“I’ll walk you.” Damien followed the owl shifter out and shut the door behind him.
Bridget sighed, running her hands along the shiny black and gold dress and up to the bite mark on her shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but then again her body did some strange things. Why then did she feel a prickle underneath her skin when her thoughts returned to the sexy wolf? She wanted him again. That was certain, and when she did what was promised to Laurel, she would pick the torch back up and see where it led her.
Sometimes, when you ask the universe for help it happens; other times, it leads you right from the flames and into an inferno. As she flipped the lock on the shop and walked up the steps to her apartment, she tried to figure out which one she was walking into tomorrow. Because, with her luck, it would be both.
Chapter Ten
Alistair opened the door to find a very familiar brunette standing on his front porch. “Bridget? What are you doing here?”
“I asked her.” Laurel pushed past him and opened the door wide. “Come in, please. All of you.”
“Would you like some refreshments before we get started? Roberta from the kitchen has prepared some Halloween treats for the kids, and some punch.”
“I trust this punch isn’t spiked?” Bridget raised an eyebrow at Alistair.
“No. It isn’t.” He took in the woman who hadn’t left his thoughts since she climbed from his bed, and wanted to drag her up the stairs to finish what he started. She wouldn’t know it, but her scent had changed.
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