Belong To The Night

by Shelly Laurenston

  “Yes!” Dori took Jake’s hands in hers and closed her eyes. Sabin stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. “Hail and welcome, Ruler of the East, spirit of air and daybreak. Hail and welcome, Ruler of the South, spirit of fire and midday. Hail and welcome, Ruler of the West, spirit of water and twilight. Hail and welcome, Ruler of the North, spirit of earth and midnight. With the force of your wind, the flame of your power, the tide of your love, and the richness of your spirit, protect and guard Jake Boudreau from all manner of harm. So mote it be.”

  “So mote it be,” Sabin repeated.

  Dori made the sign of the cross on Jake’s face, touching his forehead, his chin, left cheek, then right cheek.

  “Witches are practicin’ Catholics?” Jake asked, trying to lighten the mood of the moment.

  Sabin scowled at him. “It is the sign of the four points on a compass. North, South, East, West. She asks for the Mother Goddess to protect you with Fire, Air, Water, and Earth.” He shook his head. “Half-wit.”

  So much for being liked. Jake stopped Dori when she started to put her necklace around his neck. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a protection amulet, very powerful.”

  “It’s your protection amulet, cher. I will not wear it.”

  “Listen, Jake. If everything goes right, and I’m hurt, Sabin can heal me with the Eye of Bastet. If things go wrong, well, then it won’t matter.” She stared at him, pleading in her dark gaze.

  He knew she was right. If he was protected against the demon, he could help protect her as well.

  He acquiesced, struck once again by her courage, and she placed the chain around his neck. She kissed the amulet and laid it against his chest.

  “Let’s go.” Sabin strode out of the room, not waiting to see if they followed.

  Jake grabbed Dori just inside the front door and gave her a hard kiss. “We get through this, cher. You an’ me, we got some talkin’ to do, remember? About all this, and us.”

  She nodded. “I know, Jake. I love you. The rest of it…we can work it out. I know we can.”

  They went out the door together, climbed into Sabin’s Mercedes, headed toward the City of the Dead.

  Chapter Seven

  “You must be ready to make the three marks, Detective. The magick will not be strong enough until you do.” Sabin stood directly in front of Marie Laveau’s crypt. His cool eyes stared at Dori. “I’ll keep the Eye so that Ra’Ziel focuses first on me, then I will transfer it to you, Dori.” He studied her intently. “Are you ready, little witch?”

  The hint of condescension in the vampire’s voice stiffened Dori’s spine, as she was sure he meant it to. Which was doubly annoying. “Yes, I’m ready.” She moved into position beside Sabin.

  Sabin stood on the east side of the crypt. Going clockwise, he drew a circle around the crypt with salt. Once he’d closed the circle, he turned to face the East, palms facing forward at his sides. “I conjure thee, O circle of power, as thou encircle every tower. Mighty Aegis of the Lady and Lord, rampart of thought, action and word. In peace and power, work thou free; those who walk between two worlds, I conjure thee.”

  “A boundary to protect, concentrate, and contain; that power raised here be not in vain.” Dori took up the chant, putting all her belief into the spell. “The Sacred Circle is now around us. We are here of our own free will, in peace and in love. We now invite thee, Lord and Lady, Father and Mother of all life, to attend our spell, to guard us within this circle and without it, from all manner of evil and harm. So mote it be.”

  “So mote it be.” Sabin turned and looked at Boudreau. “Ra’Ziel will be here soon. You must be prepared.”

  “I got it, Sabin. You don’ need to worry ’bout me.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Dori saw Boudreau duck behind the crypt. Timing was critical. She only hoped she hadn’t led him to his death.

  “Here comes the demon,” Sabin murmured. “Prepare yourself. His like you have never seen before.”

  Ra’Ziel walked into view, his massive size dwarfing Arthur, who limped at his side. Dori bit her lip at the sight of her bruised and obviously shaken brother then gasped as she got a better look at Ra’Ziel.

  The demon was monstrous in appearance, with a head the size of an eighty pound pumpkin and just as misshapen. A big, bulbous nose sat squarely on his face just below eyes that glowed red. A set of horns protruded from his forehead.

  As he came closer, she saw his mouth—complete with two hideous rows of razor sharp teeth that were dingy and a sickening shade of green. A forked tongue flickered briefly as he tasted the wind. One massive hand grasped Arthur by the shoulder.

  “Let us not waste time, vampire.” The demon’s voice boomed through the stillness of night.

  Dori shivered, even though the light wind died down. Nothing stirred here except the players in this most dangerous game.

  “Thou hast what I desire, I have something that thou desires. An uncomplicated exchange.”

  “Uncomplicated?” Sabin moved two steps in front of Dori. “I think not. For me to give you the Eye of Bastet would mean the destruction of tens of thousands. Including myself and my friend here.” He motioned to Dori with one hand. Keeping that hand behind his back, when she reached forward he transferred the Eye of Bastet to her. “What assurances do I have that you won’t simply make us disappear once the Eye is in your possession?”

  “No assurances, thou cursed abomination. That I must speak to thee at all is galling to the extreme.” The demon scowled, showing off his nasty pointed teeth. “Thou hast thy vampire magick to protect thee. Why doest thou worry about these pitiful witchfolk who give thee no respect?” He pushed Arthur to his knees. “Give me what I want, or this one dies. Now.”

  Dori stepped back until her heel touched the bottom step of the crypt. “Now, Jake,” she whispered and handed him the Eye.

  Boudreau moved around to the front of the crypt and took the jewel. He reached up and made three quick marks, then said, “I wish to defeat the demon Ra’Ziel.”

  At the sound of his voice, the demon reared back and blasted Boudreau with a wave of heat that threw him violently against the side of the neighboring crypt. Dori reached for him but he waved her away. “I’m okay,” he wheezed. “You do what you gotta do, cher.”

  Dori and Sabin linked hands, and she quickly chanted a spell of protection for Arthur. She sensed Boudreau moving away from her, but maintained her concentration on Arthur and the demon.

  Too late Ra’Ziel realized what was happening and, with a roar, he reached for the witch at his feet. His hands grasped at air, though Arthur remained solid. Ra’Ziel directed his fury toward the other two.

  Dori and Sabin staggered under the onslaught, but remained on their feet. “Now would be a good time for your lover to make his move,” Sabin muttered, his grip tightening on Dori’s hand. “This is getting a bit uncomfortable.”

  “You’re telling me.” Dori tried to ignore the beads of sweat rolling into her stinging eyes, tried to block out the one drop that clung stubbornly to the tip of her nose. “Come on, Jake,” she urged quietly. “Come on.”

  A surge of pain flowed through her, and she bent over, nearly losing her connection with Sabin.

  “Don’t let go,” he said through teeth clenched against the agony assaulting them. “Boudreau is almost there.”

  As she peered through pain-misted eyes, she saw Boudreau take a flying leap at the demon. Ra’Ziel’s upper lip curled in a snarl, and he reached out and swatted Boudreau aside as if he were nothing more than a pesky gnat.

  Boudreau gave a grunt and flew through the air nearly twenty feet, landing with a painful-sounding thud and rolling several yards before coming to an alarmingly still stop.

  “Jake!” Dori tightened her fingers around Sabin’s hand.

  Boudreau didn’t move.

  Heart in her throat, Dori took a step forward.

  “Don’t.” Sabin’s fingers squeezed hers. “If we lose our focus now, all will b
e lost.”

  “But he’s hurt.” She didn’t want to voice the thought that followed. Or worse. He wasn’t moving.

  “And if you let go of me, let go of our combined power, we will all die.” He paused, tilting his head to one side. “He’s still alive.” As the demon increased the force of his onslaught, Sabin gave a little grunt and hunched his shoulders.

  Dori gasped against the building pain. Her joints ached as if she had the flu, and agony knifed through her head. “How do you know?” She looked at Boudreau again. “I can’t even tell from here if he’s breathing.”

  “I can hear his heartbeat.” Sabin’s voice was gruff, filled with pain. “We must hold on, Dori. There is no other choice.”

  She forced her attention away from Boudreau and back onto Ra’Ziel. The demon’s face was scrunched with concentration, though she thought she saw a flicker of pain crease his brow.

  At least he was feeling some of what she and Sabin were.

  From the corner of her eye she caught movement and forced herself to stay focused on Ra’Ziel. If Boudreau was back in the game, the last thing she wanted to do was draw the demon’s attention to him.

  “Thou hast no hope of defeating me.” The demon narrowed his eyes, his attention directed toward Sabin.

  Dori frowned, then gave herself a mental kick for caring that the demon had yet to even look at her. She should count her blessings.

  “If thou gives me the Eye now, perhaps I will find a way to spare thee.”

  Sabin lifted his chin. “You really want it, don’t you?”

  “To rid the world of witchfolk is my calling. My duty.” He turned that red-tinged gaze onto Dori.

  Damn. See what you get for being miffed he’d ignored you?

  “Starting with this one.” His lip curled. “And her brother.”

  Boudreau ran in to her field of vision, the Eye held tight in his right hand. She caught her breath as, with a shrill cry of battle, he leaped through the air and thrust the Eye of Bastet right between the demon’s horns.

  Blood spurted around the wound and, with a thunderous cry, Ra’Ziel clawed at the amulet protruding from his forehead. One powerful fist backhanded Boudreau, once again catapulting him several feet through the air. He thudded against the unforgiving stone of a crypt wall.

  Ra’Ziel teetered and began to fall forward. Sabin stretched out his hand and made a quick motion, using his magick to move Arthur out of harm’s way.

  Before the demon could reach the ground, his body was already ashes.

  “Thank you, Madame Laveau,” Dori whispered, then ran to her brother. “Are you all right, Art?”

  He nodded, and rubbed a shaking hand down his bruised cheek. “A little worse for wear, but I’m okay.” He motioned toward the unmoving body of Boudreau. “Go check out your friend.”

  “Jake!” She knelt at his side and pulled his head onto her lap. “Jake, please wake up.”

  He moved his head restlessly. His lashes flickered, but his eyes didn’t open.

  She brushed silky strands of hair away from his face. Leaning over, she gave him a gentle kiss on his dry mouth. “Please wake up,” she whispered.

  “Ah, cher. Do that again, an’ maybe I’ll wake up.” He grinned and popped open one eye, then the other. “’Course, you do that again and sleep will be the last thin’ on my mind.”

  Resting her hand on his chest, she felt the strong beat of his heart. Sending a silent expression of gratitude to the Mother Goddess, she leaned over and kissed him again.

  “Let’s get out of here, shall we?” Sabin reached down and hauled Dori to her feet, then did the same for Boudreau, keeping a steadying hand under his arm. “There will be restless spirits here tonight with all the power we have stirred up.”

  “What about the Eye?” Art swayed unsteadily at Sabin’s side.

  Sabin looked back to where the ashes of the demon still smoldered. “I fear the Eye of Bastet is lost forever. I am sorry,” he said to Art.

  The other man shrugged and looked at Dori, who held onto the man who had saved his life. “Some things aren’t meant to be, I know that now. In my blind quest to bring Dad back to life, I nearly got myself and three other people killed.” He shook his head and added quietly, “Nearly got all witches killed.”

  She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Dad was a believer in following the natural order, Art. He wouldn’t have wanted this.”

  Her brother nodded. “I know. You tried to tell me, but…” He sighed and looked at her with eyes shining with tears. “He was our patriarch in every sense of the word, Dori. What are we supposed to do without him?”

  Of all of them, Art had depended the most upon their father. The youngest of five children—and the only boy—she knew he’d be lost without the elder Falcon.

  “We’ll muddle along just like every other person who’s ever lost a parent.” She tightened her grip on his hand and fought back her own tears. “You’re not alone, honey.”

  “I know.” He left the support Sabin provided and took two limping steps forward, sliding one arm around her shoulders in an awkward one-armed hug.

  When Boudreau eased away from her, she wrapped both arms around Art and held him. Tears suppressed since the night her father took his last breath broke free, and she held on to her brother. She’d almost lost him, too, tonight.

  But she hadn’t. If she was lucky, Art had learned a lesson and would stay out of trouble from now on. Faint hope, but there it was.

  And the goddess had given her a brave and honorable man who loved her for who—and what—she was. Truly, she was blessed.

  Art made to draw away from her, and Dori let him go, swiping at her wet cheeks with her fingertips. He blinked and cleared his throat, knuckling away his own tears, looking embarrassed by his display of emotion.

  Sabin walked over to Art and slipped one arm around his waist, encouraging Art to lean on him. “I am sorry for your loss,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky. “Edward Falcon was a man greatly admired among witchfolk.” He looked at Dori. “Are you ready to leave, little witch?”

  She nodded and moved her shoulder under Boudreau’s arm, giving him the support he needed, though from the look on his face he didn’t like having to depend on someone else.

  He’d just have to get used to it. He needed her, and she needed him, especially in the coming months to help her through the grief over her father’s death.

  The four moved slowly out of the cemetery. Every few steps she’d hear Boudreau’s breath catch, and knew he was more injured than he let on. At the very least, from the way he’d smashed up against those crypts, he probably had a few cracked—if not broken—ribs.

  At the car, Boudreau stopped and looked back at the rows of white and gray crypts. “Mon Dieu,” he said softly. “I would never have believed this had I not been here.” He looked at Dori. “I’m glad I ran in to you last night, ma petite. Had I continued the investigation on my own, well, I’m sure I’d be joining my ancestors here.” He leaned down and kissed her softly at first, then with growing need.

  “We’ll talk about that, too,” Dori told him when the kiss ended. Her body felt alive and vibrant, as if her skin was the only thing keeping her from bursting into a million pieces. He wasn’t afraid of her and her magick.

  She helped Boudreau into the car and, just as she started to climb in, she looked to the front where Sabin was getting behind the wheel. He placed his clenched fist in the pocket of his jeans, then withdrew it.

  She pursed her lips, but said nothing. The Eye of Bastet was not lost, literally. But, knowing Sabin, no one on this earth would ever see it again.

  Which was as it should be. She and Boudreau had a conversation waiting and the rest of their lives together, she hoped. The last thing she wanted to worry about was an amulet that could put an end to her existence.

  Sabin put the car in gear and drove away from the City of the Dead. “These two need medical attention, I think,” he said, and turned the car toward the local
hospital.

  “Adieu,” Dori murmured, staring through the back window at the cemetery.

  “Good riddance, I say,” Boudreau muttered, shifting against the seat and wincing.

  She smiled and pressed a kiss against his neck before resting her head against his shoulder.

  He might be brash at times, but he was a good man. And he was hers.

  And they would be magick together.

  If you liked this book, try Jami Alden’s UNLEASHED, out this month from Brava…

  He did a double, then a triple take.

  No fucking way.

  His breath caught and his nostrils flared as he took her in. He knew the thick black waves spilling to her waist, the mouthwatering curves elegantly draped in black wool. Her dress went from neck to wrist to knee and should have been modest, but only served to highlight the lush swell of her breasts, the deep curve of her waist, the sexy flare of her hips. The heels of her black pumps tap-tapped their way down the concrete steps and headed in his direction.

  He dragged his gaze up to her face. Her luscious mouth was painted red and set in determined lines. Even though the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, like him she wore sunglasses, her oversize frames hiding half her face. As though, like him, she didn’t want to chance anyone getting a peek into her soul.

  Caroline fucking Palomares.

  No, he reminded himself. Caroline fucking Medford.

  Raw emotion spun up inside him, threatening to take him down. Lust. Anger. And a bunch of other crap he wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.

  As she strode toward him, shoulders back, hips swinging like she had every right to be walking back into his life, today of all days, he struggled to put the lid back on the swirl of emotion struggling to break free. He reminded himself savagely of who she was. Caroline Medford.

  Wife of James Medford, rich attorney twenty years her senior. The same James Medford who could give her the affluent lifestyle he hadn’t realized she coveted until it was too late.