Bump (A Witchlight Novel)

by Jaime Munn

  Sofia made a point of examining me from head to toe slowly. Then meeting my eyes with a wide smile on her lips. “I have to admit that that is better than work clothes.”

  I went back to my pots and pans and my chopping. Sofia offered to help. We were quickly in a synchronised dance that felt like we’d been cooking together since puberty. We brushed against one another as we worked in a way that had my companion been a mere human would have been only natural. With werewolf reflexes and coordination it was a calculated seduction. I enjoyed the passion simmering inside me. There was no rush to race to a crescendo. I opened up a bottle of white wine and poured us both a glass as the heat from the stove turned the kitchen swampy with heat and humidity.

  Outside the storm was almost above Whisper Falls and the stabs of lightning were brighter than the noon day sun. The rumbles of thunder were roars of a hungry beast stalking closer, closer to its prey. It was all erotic and charged with heated energy, as though we were on a movie set that had been prepped for passion.

  The night, however, was still young and I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I thought of Livia and her ordeal, of Asbelia and her manipulations towards some as yet unseen goal. Then I began to talk to Sofia about it all. Spilling my witchy tale to her. It didn’t damper the passion in the room; it added the spice of intimacy.

  “And you’re sure that it was a warning against killing the warlock?"

  I blinked. Warlock. I’d looked the word up in a dictionary once. I recalled that it literally meant oath breaker, which always made me wonder how it had been applied in the mists of time surrounding its origin. It sounded an awful lot like a soap opera of broken promises.

  “Warlock? I’ve never had occasion to use that term. There is no oath for a witch to break,” I said. “But, yes I’m pretty sure. No killing allowed.”

  Sofia nodded. “I don’t know about oaths among witches, but the connotation of warlock is negative. The pack distinguishes between friendly and unfriendly witches this way.”

  It was an economy of words, I supposed, but Sofia was right. The term also distanced Grace from myself, made her less closely associated in a way that I couldn’t help but find appealing. I didn’t want to have anything in common with her. I did, however, note that good and evil weren’t part of pack definition. It didn’t surprise me though. I had dated enough werewolves to know that wolves tended to focus on the central questions. Like in this case, friend or foe. In a way it was very primal.

  “Why would a twilight woman have an interest in a warlock? It’s like a werewolf protecting snails.”

  I laughed at her comparison though in many ways it was probably apt. Sofia smiled at me.

  “I have no idea and I somehow doubt I ever will, but when a being so powerful has you over for tea and sweet treats you pay attention to what she has to say.”

  “Like dinner with the Alpha,” Sofia rephrased my words into werewolf terminology. I nodded at her, although Asbelia was far more powerful than any Alpha could ever dream to be, even one that was pure spirit.

  “I don’t know that Cleo will like that idea. The pack prefers to leave no enemy behind.”

  I shuddered thinking of how I’d unwittingly orchestrated the death of the incubus.

  “She’s a good person, Nilla,” Sofia said softly, misinterpreting my body language. “She makes the hard decisions that she has to for the good of the pack.”

  “I know,” I reassured her, “I just couldn’t imagine doing anything like that myself.” I shook my head. “No, I can imagine it… I wanted to kill the incubus wearing my friend like a cheap disposable dress, but I would never have done it. I am grateful to Cleo for helping me even if her methods weren’t what I had in mind. I feel responsible for that death.”

  His blood was literally on my hands.

  “I understand,” Sofia patted my hand. I felt a warm flush rise through me at the contact. “Cleo never thinks to explain herself. She’s a woman of few words.”

  I raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing.

  “So what can you do about this Grace St John? Can you deny her the power she has?”

  I frowned. The very notion was disturbing to me in a visceral sense, turning my skin cold. If that were a weapon, it could easily be turned against me as my enemies.

  “Perhaps Asbelia could do something like that, but I cannot.” I was certain that if it had been a possibility, Grace would have already tried it. “The most I could hope to achieve is to drain her of energy, but that can be replenished over time or with a little bit of sugar.”

  Sofia sipped her wine thoughtfully while I readied a bowl for serving the paella.

  “Then you must find out more about this warlock. I do not think that this Asbelia would tie your hands unless there was another way to strike at the warlock.”

  I wondered if that was true. It depended on why Asbelia had set the rule in the first place. I forced myself to accept that Sofia’s supposition was true and groaned. “I’m no private investigator.”

  “Leave it to us,” Sofia said. “This warlock is in our city. We make it a point of knowing who walks our turf. I’m sure Cleo is already compiling a dossier on her. It seems like she won’t mind sharing it with you.” She paused, then added, “So long as you do that other thing.”

  I nodded, wondering why she was being so covert in referencing the spell she’d commissioned from me. Did she think Grace had me under some kind of surveillance? It was an unsettling thought. Then I thought about what I had just told her. Perhaps it wasn’t Grace that troubled her. Asbelia plainly had her eye on me. It made me feel very naked.

  I began scooping paella out of the pot and into the waiting bowl. The aroma made my mouth water. I realised I’d skipped lunch today. Covering the bowl with a kitchen towel I caught a disappointed look in Sofia’s eye.

  “Hungry?” I asked.

  “Starved,” Sofia replied with a wolfish grin.

  “Paella is best served after a five minute stand, but if you can’t wait…”

  “I can wait.”

  The words sounded like pure sex. I didn’t think I was reading anything into them that Sofia hadn’t intentionally put there.

  We set the table together as the storm finally arrived directly above Whisper Falls. The lightning flashed and the thunder roared. Sofia and I stood at the balcony door looking out as every light in the town went out. I conjured a witch light. It was a pale light with no discernable source. Bone white like moonlight.

  “Is that why you’re a lady of lamps?” Sofia asked as I used the light to bring out a pack of fresh candles.

  I laughed, shaking my head as I set the candles up on spare plates. “No. That’s another story.”

  “You’ll have to tell me sometime.”

  We arranged the candles around the room. The storm showed no signs of waning as we sat down to eat. The roar of the thunder was a powerful music for our dinner. I opened the balcony door partway through the meal as the room grew stifling without the aircon to cool it. The cool breeze swept in the smell of rain. It wasn’t falling over the town yet, but I was sure it would soon arrive.

  Our eyes kept meeting. Whatever we talked about was a hazy memory by the time we’d had our fill of food and wine. I don’t remember any words spoken when I led Sofia through to my bedroom. We didn’t bother with candles. I let the witch light wash over us. As she slipped one shoulder of my red dress down my left arm, the lightning seemed to strike just outside my bedroom window. The world turned silver. The air cracked with the roar of nature, then the rain came heavy and hard. But it was all periphery to the sylph in the ivory dress before me.

  Her smoky amber eyes were bright gold in the witch light. They smouldered like the flame of passion burned inside of the werewolf. Maybe it was a glamour I cast over myself, but staring into those eyes I could almost taste the desire sweeping through Sofia. It tangled with my own lust as the other shoulder of my dress slipped off my right arm.

  I moved forward till we were both pressed toge
ther, feeling a little shiver of delight at how perfectly we fit together. Sofia was only slightly shorter than I was, but it made all the difference when our bodies pressed together. I leaned in for our first breathless kiss. Her lips were hot against mine and silky soft. Her lip gloss tasted of bacon, which was a surprise but shouldn’t have been. Her tongue was very French. It snuck between slightly parted lips for a tentative lick that found itself very welcome.

  The kiss lasted long enough for the witch light to dwindle away to sparks in the darkness. It ended with a playful nibble of my lower lip as Sofia drew out of my embrace and pulled me down onto the bed. Somehow we squirmed out of our clothing while remaining tangled in each other and kissing furiously. The wolf was there in Sofia’s easy grace. Her slender body easily dominated mine with a lithe and powerful strength that would have frightened anyone who didn’t know her secret.

  I didn’t submit. I had only made that mistake with my first werewolf partner. I forced my body against hers and we wrestled playfully till Sofia let me win and succumbed to my will. Her body shifted and lay suddenly compliant beneath me. I rose a little above her, bloomed witch light in a trail through the air above us and saw her gazing up at me half in wonder. I had been right when I met her at the door. Sofia hadn’t been wearing anything underneath the ivory dress.

  Her skin was taunt despite the relaxed state of her muscles. She was all wiry wolf, but still her flesh was silky smooth and soft. Under the witch light her body had a brassy hue that looked like sunlight. With my skin against hers we were day and night in that mingling moment when dawn breaks and even darkness is a brighter shade.

  She tensed suddenly and rolled to the top to rise above me like a morning goddess coveting the night. Wild curls bounced just shy of her shoulders. I wondered if I would be able to persuade her to grow them till they curled like vines over the pillow beside me. Then such thoughts were washed away in a haze of pleasure that seemed to last all night long.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Dawn was a heavy weight on my chest and a rough purr from F.C. all up in my face. The familiar’s black eyes were staring down at me when I breathed out the last lungful of sleep. I reached out a hand to scratch behind his ear, yawning, and tried to stretch with the other arm. I came fully awake as I found Sofia’s body close to mine and turned to look at her. She was awake.

  Her amber eyes were watching me with a hungry fascination that was utterly different to the superior gaze of my calico cat. It was impossible to wake before a wolf. I’d never managed to catch a sleeping werewolf in my bed, unless they’d played along with the moment and let me gaze on their pretend dead to the world faces.

  “Morning,” I said with a lazy smile.

  “So it is,” Sofia replied.

  F.C. had a comment too, but he wasn’t just vocal with it. I felt a heavy weight suddenly on my bladder that sent a wave of panic through me. F.C. anticipated my reaction and was off my chest moments before I leap out of the bed. Sofia’s eyes widened in surprise.

  The full bladder feeling faded and I realised it was all F.C.

  “Frankie!” I was about to throw in a bad kitty, but my familiar threatened to reassert the sensation pressing down on his bladder with a foreshadowing of it. I clamped my mouth shut. “Call of nature,” I explained to Sofia as I left the bedroom and hurried through to the lounge. I opened the door to the balcony. Grumbling like an old man, F.C. made his way out to his personal litter box. A fresh and cool breeze moved through the open doors and caressed my body, but the only lover I could focus on was still laying in my bed, so I didn’t linger.

  I returned to the bedroom to find Sofia resting her head on her hand, elbow making a stand.

  “So it’s the fishy kitty who wears the pants in this house?” she asked with a wicked smile on her face.

  “He thinks he does. Just between you and me, I like to humour him.”

  Sofia raised a dark brow at me.

  I shrugged. I’d like to see her try ignoring a call of nature thrust upon her by F.C.

  “When F.C. has to go, F.C. has to go.” I swept my gaze over Sofia. The sheets were slipped down provocatively towards the low end of her waist, her upper body exposed. Despite the casual appearance of her pose I didn’t doubt that the scene had been set with great care in my absence.

  She half closed her eyelids, looking up at me from under her lashes like a modern portrait of an odalisque. Only I didn’t particularly care for hanging her on the wall. I slipped onto the bed and made my way slowly towards her.

  “Maybe F.C. did you a favour,” I said, “it’s still early enough to sleep in a little before I have to get to work.”

  Sofia pretended not to notice the heat rising between us. “I should probably call Mrs Truwill. She’s the mothering type. I’m sure she’s wondering what on earth happened to me.”

  “Diana Truwill is a woman of the world, I’m sure she’s already guessed what you got up to last night.”

  “Diana is it?” Sofia arched a brow and pouted up her lips dramatically like a French starlet.

  “She makes a wicked cup of tea,” I replied innocently.

  “It’s a good thing you’re mad for coffee then.” Sofia reached out and pulled me closer with her wolf strength. I let her roll me under her body until we were tangled in the sheets and lost to the world. Her perfume had faded overnight to a flush of jasmine infused with her own natural scent that had none of the notes found in wet dog, but all of the pheromones that made me melt at her hot touch.

  We were hurried in our passions, both sensing that time was flowing quickly away from us. That our first night together was already in the past. A sweet memory; bitter sweet if this was only a tryst for the werewolf from the city.

  We showered together after. My little tub and curtained shower wasn’t crowded at all. We both preferred to stand close, like frightened children clinging together before the day threw us apart. Sofia borrowed some of my clothes. My jeans were all too long, but she found a caramel pair of shorts with a golden belt and a white blouse that had never looked as good on me. I threw on jeans and a t-shirt and while I thought it was a very pedestrian ensemble, Sofia called it my sexy work look. We barely made it out of the bedroom without falling back into bed.

  I gave F.C. a can of tuna. Sofia insisted that if the cat got meat, she had to too. I caught F.C. smirking in that superior cat kind of way that dog people insist is smug and snotty. I thought it was witty. Yes, Frankie, Sofia might be vying for your pants. I figured his response was, go ahead…make my day. I realised that he was the tough guy I’d been happy knowing I’d never have. He’d grown on me so I didn’t take the realisation too hard.

  I set to making bacon and egg for Sofia. It was almost the perfect domestic scene.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  We parted ways at the door to the apartment literally. I went left to work and Sofia went right. We hadn’t made any plans to get together again. I didn’t want to sound desperate. I hoped that that was Sofia’s excuse too. F.C. and I got to the store a little after my usual opening time, but there were no crowds impatiently waiting at the door so I wondered why I’d bothered.

  I opened up. F.C. took his comfy spot on the counter while I set up for the day. Livia surprised me with an early morning visit. She looked fantastic despite what she’d been through. She was dressed in an olive green that would have been stunning on Sofia. Although even Sofia might have struggled to pull it off as well as Livia did. She wore a gold cross on a chain at her throat and a gold charm bracelet on her wrist. I wondered if she’d dressed herself, in a way, for war. I didn’t doubt that she still felt psychologically traumatised by her ordeal, even if she didn’t recall the truth of it.

  She handed me a cup from Coffee-on-Main and I took a sip while she made herself comfortable on the chair beside me. The flavour was new and I carefully tried to pry apart the different flavours. There was a hint of vanilla, a smattering of cinnamon, and laced through with a sliver of liquorice that made me perk righ
t up. It was also dosed with chocolate so I thought it was probably a mocha.

  “This is good,” I told Livia as she remained quiet.

  “It’s Marathan Mocha,” Livia said. She tried for bright and cheery, but it still sounded a little flat to me. “Apparently Coffee-on-Main woke up feeling a little Greek today.”

  “Greek?”

  “Marathon, it’s the ancient Greek name for fennel, the essence of which is an ingredient in the coffee.”

  I nodded. That was the liquorice flavouring in the mix. I waited, drinking my mocha, wondering if Livia would share what was on her mind with me.

  “Erica kicked me out of Tangles. She said I wasn’t ready for work.” She turned to me trying to pull off indignation. I thought she looked a little defeated instead.

  “How are you feeling, Livia? Really?” I asked.

  “I think the worst happened to me and I don’t remember it. Every time I fall asleep I catch the shadow of something horrible and it swallows me whole. I dream I’m drowning in crude oil every time I close my eyes.” She sobbed and my heart broke. “I don’t think I’ll sleep ever again.”

  “You’ll sleep,” I told her gently. I spun a little magic over her, feeling guilty even as I did. I told myself it was medicine, but it was still dark in my mind as I spelled my best friend into the deepest sleep I could without putting her into a coma. I spelled her into comfort too, ensuring that she wouldn’t wake feeling like she’d slept in a crappy chair all day. F.C. watched. I thought I caught an approving wink of his eyes before he lost interest.