She took a sip of her lemonade. The refreshing mix of sweet and sour tingled her taste buds. Funny, that could also describe Marguerite these days. So sweet one minute, but then prone to bitter outbursts.
“What are you thinking?” Lucan asked. “You seem a million miles away.”
Elise shifted in her seat, not about to admit she was comparing his daughter to lemonade. “Just wondering why I told you one of my secrets.”
She’d never told anyone about the times she’d run away. Why would she? It would prove that none of them cared a fig for her.
He gave her a teasing grin. “Maybe you’re starting to like me.”
If he only knew.
Perhaps it was time to put the shield back in place. What good would come from letting an off-limits gargoyle shifter know the darkest secrets of her soul?
Chapter Six
AS LUCAN ATE WITH ELISE at the outdoor cafe, he slowly pulled out bits of information about her. Despite her attempts at deflection, he learned how much she’d been affected by living in Veronique’s shadow.
Why would anyone feel inferior to a heartless witch like Veronique?
“What good is talent if your heart is black?” he pointed out.
Elise eyed him with a curious expression, like she’d never heard that sentiment. Had Veronique been so admired in their coven that she’d been admired even for her dark deeds?
“I knew your sister. My brothers and I suffered from her so-called talents. If that’s what’s admired by your coven, then perhaps it’s not where you should be.”
Elise shook her head. “It’s not like that. Magic corrupted her. The more powerful she grew, the more she was twisted by it.”
“That happens often,” he agreed. “But, it’s not an excuse. For her to control other’s lives—it’s unthinkable. Unforgivable.” The bitterness of his many years under her curse coated his tongue. He took a sip of the lemonade and swallowed.
“I’m sorry for what she did to you. The guilt at not knowing gnaws at me. If we’d known, we would have stopped her. We had no idea how mad she’d become, twisted by her power corrupting her sensibility.” She reached across the table and touched his hand.
He glanced at their joined hands and then pulled his gaze to her eyes. They were filled with sincerity—so different from her sister’s cool gaze. How could they have such similar features, yet look so different? Did it somehow shine through their inner core?
Could she be different? He’d believed all witches to be as evil and power-hungry and vindictive as Veronique. But Elise was none of those things. He’d sensed that from the first moment he looked into her warm eyes. She’d been a caregiver for his daughter for so long. Wasn’t that better than being a witch who had acquired so much power that she could cruelly inflict her will on the free will of others?
“You described yourself as average,” Lucan said. “I disagree.”
She stared at him and seemed to freeze.
What was he doing? He shouldn’t think this and he sure as hell shouldn’t say it. He heard what he was about to say and tried to talk himself out of it. It would complicate things. He didn’t want anything to do with someone associated with Veronique. But, there was something about her that called to him. When she revealed her insecurities, it drew him in all the more. And, he couldn’t stand the idea of her being tormented by the shadow of such a horrible person like Veronique.
“You know I was hoping to seduce you the night you came to Vamps, right?”
Her eyes widened, like she was captivated. A glint of fear flickered within. She blinked and appeared to come back to herself.
“Because you were more remarkable than any woman there.” Oh shit. He had to stop himself before he fell in too deep. Yet, he continued. “Don’t ever think you’re average, Elise. I think you’re remarkable. Stunning.”
A flutter of a smile appeared on her face and delight spread to her eyes. His heart beat quickened while energetic vibrations simmered beneath his skin.
“Merci.” Her voice came out just above a whisper.
Was she not used to compliments? He wanted to change that. He’d tell her how fantastic she was every day if she’d let him.
Why was he saying these things? He had no room in his life for a mate. It would infringe on the freedom he craved.
Focus on the mission, not on how good she smells.
After taking a deep inhale, he blew out a hasty breath. “Since we haven’t had much luck in the air so far, we should continue our search on foot.”
She glanced at him with confusion and then shook her head as if snapping herself back to the situation. “Good idea. There are many shops and tourist attractions in Salem. Several things to distract her.”
Where would a girl of her age go? Or a witch in particular?
No, wait. She was half-gargoyle, too. He had to remember that. Although she hadn’t grown up with him, she still had gargoyle blood. He asked Elise, “Does she fly?”
“I haven’t seen her in the winged form like you were earlier, just stone. Usually, it’s when she’s being stubborn and doesn’t want to talk to anyone. She finds a spot outside and remains there for hours. We only figured it out when we pieced together that the strange gargoyle statue that appeared in the village would just as suddenly disappear—and then reappear in a different spot days later.
He had a daughter who was part-gargoyle, stubborn, and resourceful. A small bit of pride swelled in his chest.
“When I asked her about it, she admitted it was her. She’d discovered how to do it and would shift when she wanted time alone.”
“That could be what she’s doing now. She could be blending in somewhere.”
Elise sighed. “That might not be easy. I saw a giant gargoyle statue perched outside of one of the attractions earlier. Who knows how many others there could be?”
Lucan nodded. “I’d recognize which stone held life and which didn’t.”
He opened a communication link with his brothers. Elise and I are going to continue to search on foot.
You’re still with her? Mattias asked.
Yes.
Is it awkward?
Lucan suppressed a groan. At first. But, I have to get over hating all witches now, don’t I? Considering my daughter is one.
And how about her being Veronique’s sister? Danton added.
That part was trickier, but he had to find a way to deal with it. We have a mutual goal at the moment—to find Marguerite. And besides, she’s nothing like Veronique.
Do I detect a hint of defensiveness in your tone? Mattias teased. Is something going on between you two?
Nothing, Lucan growled. I’m not foolish enough to exacerbate an already complex situation.
If he could repeat that statement in his head like a mantra, maybe he’d be able to stick to his resolve.
“WOULD SHE BE INTRIGUED by any of these attractions?” Lucan asked. “That might help us figure out where she is.
Elise scanned the stretch of shops, bookshops, restaurants, and other attractions—from museums to historical reenactments, and some specializing on witches to pirates to Hollywood monsters. So many things to see and do. It would be difficult to narrow it down to one type of venue.
“She loves to read and practice on potions and spells. We hadn’t really had a chance to explore much before we came to find you, but she was definitely intrigued by what we passed. I wish I could say for certain where we’ll most likely find her, but there are so many options.”
“Let’s head down Essex Street Pedestrian Mall,” he suggested. “There are plenty of things to see and do there.”
They continued to search as they headed down the cobblestone and brick of the walking mall, which was flanked with streetlamps. Elise searched inside witch and wizarding stores and magic shops, many perfumed with the scent of incense and herbs. She peeked inside restaurants with witch décor. Almost every attraction had a connection to witches, except perhaps the Peabody Essex Museum. Window displays fea
tured blown-glass witch balls, sparkling crystals, colorful Tarot cards, and bundles of sage and other herbs and oils.
“Marguerite would be drawn into stores like this,” she said.
Heck, Elise had a hard time not being lured by all the displays herself. Although some of the shops seemed designed to convince tourists to drop money, she sensed others were the real thing—stores run by true witches who practiced magic.
“We’ll search each one if we have to,” he replied.
The city itself entranced her. Having grown up in a rural village in France where her coven generally stuck to themselves, the way the modern-day witches practiced in the open in Salem was inspiring. Courageous. Plenty of religious fanatics congregated in high-traffic areas to preach against witchcraft and sin, but they appeared to be outnumbered by witches who’d settled in town and opened up businesses.
A woman passed Lucan and turned to appraise him. An uncomfortable tightening jolted Elise. She turned and shot the woman a possessive look, but the woman took no notice. Of course not. Elise was always the one who was overlooked. And she couldn’t blame the woman. He was a sight to see. Massive and muscular and with hair the color of midnight hanging down to his shoulders, he stood out in Salem, even among those with the most outrageous costumes and colorfully dyed hair.
What was with her odd reaction? It couldn’t be jealousy. She had no holds on him. She never could. Perhaps it was simply because he was helping her find Marguerite.
Yes, that was it. Nothing more.
Then why couldn’t she dismiss the confusing feelings that flooded through her head? The sensual stirrings that bloomed within her every time they touched?
They had a shared mission and that was it. Period. Nothing more could come of it.
She peered over at him, trying to gauge what he was thinking. His expression was determined, but otherwise unreadable.
At times she sensed that he felt something for her. Those sweet things he’d said meant more to her than he’d ever realize. When their eyes locked, she was left unbalanced. Like someone had ripped her off her axis, threatening her to collapse into a pile of goo. When she’d touched him, heat vibrated along her skin and then probed deeper. There was something about him. Something she couldn’t identify because she’d never felt it before.
He stopped in front of a witch shop and peered in through the window. The black velvet covering didn’t reveal the interior, but hinted at what was within—crystal balls, Tarot cards, and herbs. “I can’t see much. Might as well go in.”
They entered and scanned the interior of the shop, full of supplies to keep a witch active for days. She stopped to admire a hand-blown witch ball in shades of blue that reminded her of the ocean.
“You like that?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful. So delicate.” Then she reminded herself she wasn’t there to shop but to search.
Maybe she’d pick one up to bring back to France. She’d enchant hers to keep negative spirits and dark magic away. It had already corrupted one member in her family.
“I shouldn’t get distracted,” she said.
“No worries.” He flashed a devastating grin.
Perhaps she should find some sort of charm to help her resist the attraction to the shifter at her side. By the time they exited the shop, she’d talked sense into herself again. She had to force it aside. He was the father of her niece, the child she’d been taking care of. He was the one who’d hurt her sister for her to retaliate with such a vengeful, forbidden curse.
Ah, yes, the forbidden. Perhaps that explained her attraction to Lucan. Anything between them was so off limits, it stoked a bit of rebellion inside her—something she’d never dared to explore while trying to be the good girl to please her parents or the good witch to please her coven.
As she headed to the exit, she convinced herself of it. That had to be it. The only reason she was attracted to him was because she couldn’t have him. Hadn’t that happened to countless people in the world? Most of the time it ended badly since the forbidden aspect had a reason. Well, she wouldn’t be a fool. She could team up with him to find Marguerite and then—and then, well, she didn’t know what.
He held the door for her.
“Merci,” she said.
She stole a glance at him. Would he want to take a parental role in Marguerite’s life? While at first, he seemed to shirk from the idea of having a child, let alone who her mother was. But when he met Marguerite, he tried. Perhaps it was a little awkward, but the entire situation was steeped in awkwardness. And for his attempts at getting Marguerite to warm up to him, that actually worked on Elise as well.
After an hour or so of walking on foot, two men approached from the opposite direction. One had long blond hair and the other was as black as Lucan’s, but much longer. They had the same massive appearance as Lucan and wore the same dark clothing.
“Danton, Mattias,” he greeted them both a nod and turned to Elise. “These are my brothers.”
After they were all introduced, Lucan said, “We haven’t had any luck.”
“Neither have we,” Danton said. “We found a few girls that matched the description. But when we got close...” He shook his head.
Her heart raced quicker. “How did you not know it wasn’t her?” she asked.
Mattias replied in a lower tone, “We might have recognized her scent—partly like us.” He raised his chin at her. “And partly like you.”
Oh, right, how strange. With their acute sense of smell, they’d catch a hint of gargoyle and witch in Marguerite.
“Can you track her that way?” A bit of hope swelled in the uncertainty.
“It’s not as easy as you’d think,” Lucan said. “Although we can detect and differentiate odors better than human, the competing scents dilute our perception. And, in a busy city like this, there are too many competing scents. Trails go dead.”
“Ah.” She exhaled as her shoulders slumped. “Thank you for looking for her,” she acknowledged. “She’s my niece and I care about her a great deal.”
Mattias grinned. “She’s our niece, too. And, although we’ve never met, we’ll do our utmost to find her.”
But, what if Marguerite didn’t want to be found?
Chapter Seven
AS THE HOURS PASSED with no sign of finding his daughter, Lucan’s wariness rose. The spot between his shoulder blades tightened, which he couldn’t shake despite how he stretched out his wings. It was getting dark. They’d stopped by the hotel a few times so Elise could check to see if Marguerite had returned, but didn’t find any indication.
When the sun began to set, he suggested refueling with a meal. They stopped to eat dinner at a restaurant on Derby Street near the Salem Witch Village and New England Pirate Museum. With a window view, they kept watch in case she walked by. Hopefully, she stopped to eat today, as well.
They’d ordered a couple of glasses of Chianti. He ordered a hearty meat lasagna and she chose the eggplant parmesan. As their server brought their dishes, the scent of the rich plates triggered his hunger. When he took a bite, the sultry flavor of rich tomato sauce and an abundance of spices almost made him moan.
“Although I don’t like her being out there, I’m hoping she found a safe spot and shifted to stone,” he said.
Elise furrowed her brow. “That’s a feasible scenario. But, I wish she’d finally put us out of this worrying and come back.”
He glanced at the darkening sky. The moon was nearly full. Tomorrow night it would be. They had to find her before then. The full moon affected many supes. It wasn’t just werewolves that lost control.
After Elise took a sip of wine, she stifled a yawn. “Excuse me. It’s been a long day.”
It sure had. “It’s getting late and you need to get some rest. After we eat, you should go back to the hotel. I’ll meet up with you tomorrow.”
She peered at him with an inquisitive look. “Where will you go?”
“I’ll find a spot out here where I can shift to stone
.”
“Do you usually sleep outdoors?”
“I haven’t established a regular habit yet. In the few weeks since the curse broke, I’ve spent most nights outdoors. Flying until exhaustion weighed down my wings. Then, I’d find a spot to rest in stone.”
She lifted her glass of wine to her lips, but then lowered it. “You haven’t slept in a bed?”
He shrugged. “I don’t need to.”
“But, surely it’s more comfortable than sleeping in stone every night. I can’t imagine not having the comfort of soft bedding as the reward at the end of a long day.”
It did have a nice sound to it. Especially if she’d be warming the bed with him.
She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip this time. When she lowered the glass, her lips had an enticing sheen to them. Oh, so kissable.
“Now that you’re free, do you have plans?”
He shifted in his chair. The only ones he’d had so far were to fly and fuck as often as possible. But, she had a good point. Things had changed now that he was a father. How exactly that would affect him since his daughter didn’t want to see him was unknown.
“For now, I’m trying to experience all that I can to make up for the time I’ve lost. But, I’m also trying to be practical. I’ve picked up a few shifts helping out the bartenders at Vamps and I’m hoping to get a regular spot there. I love being able to move freely through a club that I’ve watched over for so long.”
“I can see that.” She eyed him with understanding.
“And, who knows—maybe one day I’ll open my own place. I’m thinking of a restaurant.”
“That’s magnificent.” Her eyes gleamed with admiration. “Around here?”
He shrugged. “I’m open to locations.”
“How did you end up moving overseas?”
“A French vampire knew of our situation. He mentioned his club and how he needed supes for protection. We welcomed the change of scenery.”
She sighed. “If my coven had known about the curse, we would have made her break it. We don’t practice black magic.”
INFLAME: (a gargoyle shifter and witch romance) (Underground Encounters Book 8) Page 5