Spellbound Desire

by Angelia Sparrow

  I saw more than a few glazed looks as someone sat down suddenly, as if they couldn’t remember where they were going. It was pretty much illegal to use magic on a non-consenting person, except in direst life-or-death circumstances. This counted. The Belles got the people moving, row by row, out the doors to where the other mages waited to magic away the nightmares.

  Oeilett’s talons came out from under the kilt, covered in blood, and went for Bran’s throat. The monster might have no eyes, but he had unerring aim. Just as He swiped those razor claws across my lover’s throat, Oeilett exploded.

  Rags of scales and scraps of bone tumbled from the air to join the organ-looking lumps all over the stage. I could move again and dashed for the stairs. I tipped a two-finger salute in passing to Alistair, who had gone into something slow, Southern and little gritty sounding that I didn’t recognize.

  He looked up as he finished and announced to no one in particular, “I wanna do real bad things wi’ ye!” Then he started in on Loch Lomond.

  I was not going to cry. I pounded down the stairs, ignoring the pain in my knees and feet, swallowing against the tears in my throat.

  Bran healed fast. Movie-in-reverse fast, he said. And we had a combat medic. I was not going to cry.

  “And I’ll take the low road.” I heard his voice singing that line in my head and it brought the tears stinging to my eyes as I burst in at one of the doors. The Belle on the door took one look at my face and made all the humans get to one side as they filed out like docile lambs.

  There was not going to be a Faerie road home for my Bran, not if I had to make his heart beat with my own hands until the doctors got to him.

  I saw him moving on the platform and he stabbed the knives into Jinx’s wrists before he collapsed. Ian got there before me, the big blue Lone Star on the back of his vest practically glowed neon blue. I’d never seen all the patches before.

  “I’ve got him, Admire. See to your cousin.”

  I stopped and stared. There was nothing I could do for Jinx who’d been unzipped like a cheap jumpsuit and tossed aside just as casually. Then I saw Jinx move. A flash of metal and the knives clanked as they hit the platform.

  I climbed the three steps, slower now. Bran was in the best possible hands. I doubted regular doctors would do as much as Ian. But surely I hadn’t seen Jinx move. He was dead, so dead that he didn’t even have blood left. I approached his body.

  Jinx sat up and held his head in his hands. There was no gaping wound where his spine should be. There weren’t even stab wounds in his wrists. He looked rode hard and put away wet. I didn’t even have the presence of mind to face-palm over the insane accuracy of that description.

  “Allan?” I said, very softly. He moaned a little and I knew he didn’t recognize my voice. How could he? I’d never spoken softly to him that I could remember. “Jinx!” I snapped. He looked up.

  “Hi, Deej.” He blinked and covered his face again. “Bright light.”

  Ian swore, colorfully and with a Texas drawl that got deeper by the word. The mana around us was dissipating. The air had thinned to normal Memphis fug. The woad on Bran’s chest no longer glowed. I still could see the patches on Ian’s vest, and the front patches on Bran’s, which I’d never seen.

  “I’m losing him here!” Ian bellowed. Six mages ran toward us, including the purple haired rebel, her blue-streaked face clashing with the hair. They weren’t going to make it in time. Ian looked at me and I saw he knew that. “Admire, anything you got, give it.” Ian shoved a hand my direction and I took it without thinking, pouring out all my love for Bran, all the happiness I’d known this week, my deep desire for him to stay with me. I put whatever mana was left in me into Ian’s hand and hoped it was enough.

  I felt Jinx grab my hand from the other side. “Anything I got. He used the end of his bringing me back.”

  Bran’s arms had closed, and there was no more blood pooling from under his kilt. The gashes in his belly still gaped, showing odd gray bulges I didn’t want to see or think about, but they didn’t bleed. The one across his neck slowed visibly as Jinx held my hand.

  “We lucked out. The monster didn’t get any major vessels, but with the other damage it was enough.” Ian focused and a faint blue glow started on the edges of Bran’s neck and belly.

  I felt more mana flowing past me, aimed at Ian this time. The glow deepened and the belly wounds closed up. The neck wounds took longer.

  “Breathe, Deej. If you pass out, I have to hold the big Texas bear’s hand.” Jinx squeezed my hand reassuringly and I gasped, lightheaded from the sudden influx of oxygen.

  Alistair was standing on the platform now. He started a slow, sad song and Ian looked up with a scowl.

  “He’s not quite dead yet, so it’s not time for Flowers of the Forest. Stuff that up your drones! Play Sound the Pibroch instead.” Ian looked back at Bran as Alistair went into something martial and inspiring.

  The added mana from the others who now stood in a ring around us, holding hands and sending the mana spiraling around the circle like a hot potato, turned the tide. Bran’s neck closed.

  “Miss Admire, you’re doubtless more familiar with the equipment, so would you mind taking a wee peek under his kilt?” Ian sounded very pleased, almost teasing as he let go of my hand.

  I didn’t want to. Razor-sharp demon claws and Bran’s refusal to wear anything under the kilt made a bad combination. Not that boxers would have helped, or even lederhosen.

  I lifted the edge of his kilt as Jinx and the mage on that end of the circle looked discreetly away. I fumbled with my keys and got hold of the little LED flashlight on the ring, and then shone it up under the leather. Aside from a lot of blood on Bran’s thighs and belly, everything looked intact, the heavy dark-furred balls and uncut cock lying quiet at the junction of his thighs. I felt the usual tight knot of arousal low in my belly. Something whispered I should reach up and check, just to be sure everything was firmly attached. I ignored it.

  I smiled. If the mana was back to matchmaking, Bran was fully functional. “We’re good here, doc.”

  “Bran, come on back,” Ian coaxed. “Come on, big guy. It’s not time for the Faerie road, not for you. You did such a good job. Now it’s time to come back to your lady.”

  His eyelids fluttered in the way they always did just before he woke up. Once and twice, and then open. His eyes were the usual whisky brown.

  “Lass?”

  “I’m right here,” I said, leaning around Ian. Bran smiled.

  “We did for it, yeah?” He tried to sit up and Ian put a stop to that.

  “You did for it, we just helped.”

  “Aye, and let’s not do this again.” He dropped back to lie on the platform, and closed his eyes. He’d be all right.

  Summer picked up a chunk of demon innards. “We shouldn’t need to. Ooo, squishy.” She dropped it. “Hey, it bounces.”

  That seemed to be the end of the matter. The mages went back to finishing the crowd control and Summer and some of her girls started sweeping up the demon bits to be burnt.

  Ian stayed close. I sat on the steps of the dais and watched as the rent-a-cops and combat mages herded the last few people out, answering their questions with endless bullshit. Most of the crowd couldn’t absorb the idea they’d been part of a demon-summoning, or that they’d seen my cousin get possessed right in front of them, die and be raised in the space of about ten minutes.

  “So, Jinx, you’ve had a busy week,” I said. He looked up from where he was resting his head on his drawn-up knees. Loaning his minimal and untrained power for the healing had left him ashen and exhausted. I hoped some of Saraphina’s lovely nieces would drop by with goulash and chicken soup and other strengthening goodies. “You’ve won the Magic Million, gotten a platinum VIP to Hellzapoppin, ridden a motorcycle, been possessed and temporarily dead. Whatcha gonna do for an encore? Go blow up Disneyland?”

  “My head hurts. I think I want to go sleep. For a week. You mind if I don’t hang
out at your office, Deej?”

  I did not have the energy to do the happy dance that question required. So I just smiled. “I think I’ll survive.”

  Summer looked at him, pausing in her demon-cleaning activity. “I’ll give him a ride home. You up for riding bitch for me?”

  Jinx kind of blanched and stuttered.

  Summer giggled. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. Are you coming or not?”

  I nodded. “Go with her.” Jinx got up.

  “I’ll even make you soup,” she offered. I smiled as I saw the leather-clad succubus with the machine gun on the back of her vest as she helped him down the steps.

  “Not out of that!” Jinx squeaked, pointing at the pile of demonic organs at the end of her broom. I suspected Ian had teleported them out of the beast.

  “Nah, just chicken noodle from a can. Mama raised me right.” She passed her broom off to Ortiz of Las Quatras Brujas and tugged Jinx’s hand. “Go on,” I urged. “Don’t worry about dropping by for a few days. After all, I’ll be kind of busy, tying up all the loose ends from this case.”

  From where Ian was still working on him, Bran propped up on one elbow, his arms perfectly intact, but marked by a new pink scar, caught my eye and winked.

  Epilogue

  Bran

  Scotland was gorgeous in August, all clear skies and cool days instead of the Memphis heat. No humidity fugged the air, although it rained almost every day, at least for a while.

  We’d expedited my lady’s passport, with some help from the Witan. I’d had flown up to Salem and there had been a row about my retirement. D.J. had sworn she heard me in Memphis. They were keen to keep me on. But I was fully retired, with a pension that made sure I’d never want for anything. And I had my lady.

  We’d flown commercial into Glasgow, with my knives and her guns checked in our baggage. I even let go the leather for more comfortable jeans and a black t-shirt from Sun Studios. I’d taken her to do all the tourist stuff while we waited to travel, the kind of stuff I’d never gotten to do while on assignment. There were pandas at the zoo, looking like little people in black-and-white bear suits as they lounged and ate and scratched themselves. There were tours and places to see, until even my grouchy girl smiled with them.

  She got excited about flying too, although I expected she’d have been just as thrilled or more if I’d taken her body-flying. But Memphis to Glasgow is a long way to body-fly, especially with a passenger, and McKay Airlines would have had to make several stops on the way. I laughed at her good mood instead, watching her thrill at the liftoff, wondering where my grouch had gone. Amazing what a difference love and security make in a woman. She’d never be easy to live with, but she was happier now than she’d been.

  Ma met us at the airport, shawl, blackthorn walking stick and all, looking a proper witch. She took us out to her old green Chevy Spark. Admire had raised an eyebrow at the little hatchback, but didn’t let Ma catch her at it.

  “Well, ye’ve gone and saved the world again, lad. Now they’re letting you settle down, aye?”

  “Aye, Ma. We saved it. You and the sibs and the bairns and all together.” I glanced at my girl up in the passenger seat. “We’re talking about settling. Good to be home.”

  “Glad you made it back,” was all she said. The rest of the trip was silent as she drove north and west, up into the hills of the National Forest. My girl marveled out the window at the scenery and I just looked upon the sights I’d never expected to see again.

  “That’s Loch Lomond out on Ma’s side,” I told her.

  She just stared and I thought I saw a tear and a trembling lip. But she wouldn’t thank me for noticing, so I kept it to myself.

  At Cairndow, Ma signaled and Admire drew in a sharp breath.

  “There’s nothing there,” she protested. I’d heard it looked like we were turning straight into a couple of trees, that only mages could see the road. But I’d always seen it, a wide smooth dirt road. We maintained it and kept it nice.

  “Brandubh, don’t let her drive. Not if she can’t see the road.” Ma turned onto a little road, and took us a little north and west of the loch, but not so far as Crianlarich. “You’ll learn to see it in time, lass.”

  She stared as we rolled into the little village. It looked just as I remembered. Whitewashed houses, some of stone, some more modern, all opened onto the main road. Women hung out wash and aired out bedding, strings of talismans dangled at every door and window. Children ran and played, enjoying the end of the summer holidays.

  Ma slowed down and a string of children, from teenage boys big enough to know better to wee ones barely able to run, followed the car, shouting. I wanted to blush when I heard them yelling, “Bran’s home!” I’d rather face Oeilett again than a bunch of cheering neighbors.

  I couldn’t help searching their faces, looking for McKay traits. Here was Lispeth’s nose, there was Artair’s sharp smile. In any town, people take to looking like each other after a while, but it showed badly here. In a town of six hundred people, fifteen children by the same da was a sizable number.

  Ma got us to the big old farmhouse on the edge of town before the urchins could manage to run us down. Admire got out, stretched and looked around at the herbs growing in the yard, at the forest nearby and all the things that said home to me.

  I came up behind her and put my arms around her. “It’s home. Want to make it your home?”

  She breathed out heavily. “I don’t know. It’s beautiful, but I’m a city girl.”

  “That’s fine, love.” I kissed her neck. “We’ll enjoy it as long as you like. And it’s not far to the big city.”

  Enjoy it we did for two lovely weeks. I took her on long rambles, enjoying my time off. I took her into Glasgow, careful of the neighborhoods I chose. But she was a city girl as she said, and had a sharp eye for trouble about to go down. I never asked if it observation or that wonky Sight of hers that got us out of a pub minutes before a fight went down. We ran the crags, her cussing me until she ran out of air from the sprinting and then more once she’d regained her breath.

  “You’re retired, big guy. Why are we still training for Armageddon?” she demanded one day after our morning run.

  “Because they’ll call me in to consult.” I hoped they wouldn’t. There shouldn’t be any old combat mages, and I would just sound like some old fart giving out-of-date advice.

  I had Jamie take me down to Glasgow one afternoon and got my bike from the Ladies’ clubhouse. The Bluesmen had a garage, we had a private bar for our “motorcycle club”. The fellas gave greeting, and offered hospitality, but I refused.

  “I have to take my girl back to meet my other girl. I don’t ride pished.”

  “Aye, heard about the Yank bint. She any good?” Kerk never knew when to shut up, but he was a dead brilliant mechanic.

  “Better’n you, ya nugget,” I snapped.

  The boys laughed, but I got my girl out of the garage. They’d taken good care of her. She was a Royal Enfield Thunderbird, and I never got to ride as much as I’d wanted. Now I could ride around the world, if Admire was willing.

  She loved riding, but I’d known that since the ride on Dorothy. We rode up into the Highlands and all around the loch.

  One fine afternoon, when the heather was all a-blooming on the hillsides around the loch, I sweet-talked Ma into a picnic lunch and took Admire out. We found a place away from the tourists and settled in for a quiet afternoon of food and love.

  The time was right and I asked the question I’d wanted to ask since Memphis.

  “Love, you know how I feel about you. Would you like to make it formal and be my wife?”

  You’d thought I’d gobsmacked her. She stared for a minute and then looked away over the loch. She shook her head sadly.

  “I love you,” she said, “But I can’t live with people. I’m terrible at it. I moved out of Mom’s place when I was sixteen and got emancipated because I couldn’t live with anyone else. I marry you and we’ll
be hating each other before next August rolls around.”

  I wrapped an arm around her and she didn’t shrug it off. “Fair enough, I suppose. But do you want to see? Used to be tradition that couples would handfast at the Lammas fair and then agree to marry or part at the next one. You willing to give me a year and a day to see?”

  She sat quiet for so long I wondered if she’d heard. Only her tense shoulders told me she had.

  “All right. A year and a day. I can give you that. When’s Lammas?”

  “Last week. It was always the first of August, when the wheat was harvested.” I kissed her.

  She smiled then. “Close enough.”

  “Aye, that we are.” I pulled her back on the blanket and kissed her long and deep. Nothing was urgent now. We had a year and a day to play and enjoy each other. Maybe I would ride ’round the world at that, with her behind me making her snarky comments about life and all. I kissed her over and over, pausing between to look down into her face.

  The stillness of the hillside gave way to a slow melancholy violin tune. She scrabbled for her phone.

  “Shit, that’s Saraphina! It’s important.” She answered it with the words, “How bad?” I heard the tinny voice on the other end but couldn’t make out the words. “Right. On my way.”

  She stood up and tucked her phone in her pocket. “I’m going to need your Ma’s computer. I need to get plane tickets home.”

  “What about my year and a day?” I asked, getting to my feet. When my girl made up her mind, there was no arguing. I folded the blanket and strapped the hamper to the back fender.

  “It’s still on. But I’ll be in Memphis. My city needs me.” She put her helmet on and climbed aboard the bike.

  Indomitable woman. I smiled and settled my helmet on. I might be retired, but she wasn’t. I’d do my year and a day sweating to death in Memphis if it meant I had her.

  About Angelia Sparrow & Naomi Brooks