by Judith Post
"When we left, there was no ditching her," Prosper said.
Babet pressed a hand on her stomach. Succubus powers weren't quite as exciting as she'd pictured them to be. Swallowing dark magic was disturbing. Hatchet was right. A cleansing potion would make her feel better, but the memory would last. Yuck.
Hatchet turned to her. "Colleen told Lillith about you. Lillith would like to see you in a few days."
Babet looked at him, alarmed. "I know Colleen's your bond mate, but did you have to tell her? You knew she'd tell Lillith."
"We don't share everything. Can't. I told her for a purpose," Hatchet said. "She still works part-time at the brothel, as a receptionist."
"No clients?" Babet asked.
"No, out of consideration to me. But her employer is a succubus. You could use some coaching."
"My father volunteered…."
Hatchet interrupted. "He'd make the best teacher, but how much time can he spend with you? Lillith likes the idea that you share her powers. She wants to teach you to use them better, so that you don't swallow black magic and make yourself sick."
Babet stared. "There's a way to do that?"
Hatchet shook his head. "Guess you'll have to talk to Lillith and find out. Then you might not look so green next time."
The man might have a point. Babet let herself sag against the seat cushion. "I will. Soon."
"Not tomorrow," Prosper said. He looked at her in the rearview mirror. "Tomorrow, you're mine."
Babet met his gaze in the mirror. She put a hand to her mouth. Her stomach…. Hatchet's pale eyes gleamed. "There isn't much a little cleansing potion can't fix. You'll feel like new in the morning."
"I always wanted to play doctor. A doctor with benefits." Prosper grinned. "You need some serious pampering."
She was beginning to feel better already. The car hit a rut in the road, and she grabbed her belly. Okay, maybe not quite yet. But by tomorrow morning…. An entire day with Prosper. Things were looking up.
"We need to talk," he added.
Uh-oh, he sounded determined.
"If a vampire and Druid can become bond mates, so can we."
"What's your hurry?" They'd both lived a long time. "What's a few years here and there?"
"We're past just living together," he said. "I want more. It's time I took a mate, but we'll talk about it tomorrow. We will talk about it, though."
She glanced at the ring, inscribed with witch chants, that she constantly wore. Didn't Prosper give her every bit as much security and happiness as her magic? Wouldn't his ring symbolize its own special powers? Along with a whole lot of other special benefits?
Maybe movies didn't end with happily ever after for no reason. A witch needed more than a snake as a familiar. Maybe even witches needed a mate.
A Friend in Need
The Eighth Babet & Prosper Novella
A Lunch Hour Read
by
Judith Post
Babet paused at the path that led into the woods. The moon, no longer full, still shone brightly, gilding the narrow trail with its beams. Tall trees lined both sides of the walkway, their branches forming an arch. She clenched and unclenched her fingers. Nerves.
Her father—tall, dark, and demon—stopped alongside her. Furrowing his dark brows, he gave a thoughtful stare. "You're sure about this, aren't you?"
"Yup, he's the one." Babet tugged her simple, white, cotton gown into place. With a circle of flowers in her dark hair, she looked like a damned maiden, readying for a Maypole dance, but her mother—the head of River City's coven—had insisted on embracing Babet's ties with Nature.
A rare smile curved Gazaar's lips and lit his pale eyes. "Then what's the holdup?"
"The ceremony." She wasn't nervous about bonding herself to Prosper. She couldn't imagine life without him. But why couldn't supernaturals zip to a justice of the peace, do the deed, and just be done with it? No such luck.
Her mother had wanted to perform the bonding at the Solstice, when covens gathered together to celebrate, but bonding with a were-Kodiak eliminated that option. Babet's husband-to-be shifted at full moons. She refused to be bound to him when he was huge and furry, so they'd decided on having the ceremony a week later, on March 28. That way, all of the witches of River City could travel to be with friends to celebrate Ostara and Spring and have plenty of time to return.
Babet sighed. All of Prosper's pack was attending—the reason for the ceremony's location. They couldn't shift too close to River City. Tourists might freak if they glanced a Were. No animal in nature could match their size and fierceness.
Her father placed a steadying hand under her elbow. "You love him. He loves you. That's all that matters. You're a brave witch. You can do this."
Her nerves steadied. Her father was right. She'd faced worse—the voodoo priest, Hamza, and the necromancer who'd brought back dark witches. She squared her shoulders and smiled at him. "Thanks for being here." He'd been absent for most of her life—as a safety precaution, so that his enemies didn't hunt her. She was finally old enough and strong enough that they could dare being father and daughter.
"I can't tell you how honored I felt to be invited." Once Gazaar knew the date, he'd arranged for two of his assistant incubi to guard the pits in his place.
Babet looked her father up and down. She quirked a brow. "You look great. I was half-afraid you'd show up in your work outfit." She'd never seen him in anything but tight-fitting, leather pants and little else. Not that he didn't look stunning that way, but he was pretty fetching in a loose, white shirt and black slacks, too. Who knew a demon could look so suave?
He laughed. "I clean up occasionally. You don't look too bad yourself."
She fidgeted with a strand of unruly hair that curled in the humidity. "Do I look all right?"
"You're as beautiful as your mother."
Her mother was fair with light-brown hair and blue eyes. A lovely woman. Babet would have preferred that to her own wavy, dark hair and dark eyes, but her genes didn't oblige.
Gazaar glanced at the moon—almost directly overhead—and nudged her forward. "It's time."
They walked under the canopy of tree branches. "Your mother tells me your friend, Hatchet, is performing the ceremony."
Babet nodded. Another cause for concern. "He's the liaison for River City, working with supernaturals and mortals. He knows both the shifters and the witches."
When her footsteps faltered, her father asked, "Hatchet's taken with a vampire?"
Usually, Gazaar didn't bother with chitchat. He was trying to keep her occupied until they reached the clearing. Babet smiled, grateful for the distraction. "The minute Colleen saw him, she meant to have him."
"It's hard to resist a vampire." There was something in her father's voice that made her glance at him. Another grin—a rare event. "I was single a long time before I met your mother."
She didn't want to know.
She wasn't quite sure that she wanted Hatchet to perform the ceremony either, but he'd practically insisted. Offending a Druid priest seemed like an unwise decision, though she worried what his idea of bonding might be.
They reached the end of the path and entered the circular clearing that was lit with high torches. The shifters stood on one side of the meadow, all in their animal form, to show respect for their magick. Their leader—a huge panther with amber eyes—towered over all of them. On the other side of the meadow stood the witches. They all wore their hair loose, even Hennie, who usually tucked her snow-white hair into a neat bun. They, also, wore white, flowing gowns, but her mother's had a red rose pinned near its shoulder—a symbol that she was passing her daughter on to a new love. Morgana lay, coiled, near her mother's feet. Babet's familiar looked like she was sulking. She showed signs of wanting to be part of the ceremony, but snakes made lousy flower girls.
Hatchet, whipcord lean, stood on a raised, wooden platform, garbed in loose-fitting, linen slacks and a plain-brown, sleeveless tunic top—his bow to the tie betwee
n Druids and Nature. The blue ink of his tattoos undulated up and down his arms. A roughly-made, wooden altar with three candles on it stood before him.
Tables, laden with food and drinks, were set up behind the platform.
Babet's chest tightened. She couldn't breathe. She glanced back at the pathway. If she turned now and ran, no one could catch her…. And then Prosper stepped forward. Her bear-shifter, dressed like her father in a loose, white shirt and black slacks, made her pulse quicken. Was there anyone more handsome than her bond mate, with his soft-brown hair, bronze skin, and chocolate-brown eyes? His gaze caught and held hers. She wanted this man. For forever.
He started toward her. When he was close enough, Gazaar gave a quick nod of his head, handed his daughter to him, and took his place beside Babet's mother. Prosper placed Babet's hand on the crook of his elbow, and led her toward the raised platform. They stopped before Hatchet, and the ceremony began.
Hatchet raised his arms skyward and lightning flickered overhead. "I have come to bond this bear shifter and this witch together as one."
Prickles raced up and down Babet's skin.
"Supernaturals bond till death." Hatchet's gaze skewered both Babet and Prosper. "We pay no heed to mortal conventions. We don't retire. We live too long. We ply our magic from one century to the next. When we join our magicks, we seek consistency in our world. We have only one true mate until that mate dies. If we choose poorly, we regret it."
Babet swallowed, hard. Prosper sensed her nervousness and laid his hand over hers, squeezing it gently.
Hatchet stared at her. "Babet Spellbound, do you bond yourself to Prosper from this time forward?"
Her mouth felt dry. She had to force the words to form. "I do."
Lightning crackled to the ground, striking Hatchet's upheld hand. He caught it, formed it into a ball, and lit a candle with it.
Hatchet turned to Prosper. "Prosper Blade, do you bond yourself to the witch, Babet?"
Prosper's husky voice rang clearly, "I do."
Hatchet raised his other hand, caught a second bolt of lightning, and lit a second candle. He nodded to Babet and Prosper. "Then join your magicks as one."
Babet took her candle, Prosper took the other, and they joined their flames to light the center candle.
"Now join arms in front of me."
Babet hesitated. What did Hatchet have in mind for them? But Prosper stretched out his right arm, waiting for Babet to press her left arm to his. She bit her bottom lip, but did it. Hatchet pushed up the sleeves of Prosper's shirt, then gripped both of their wrists in an iron grasp. Babet's eyes widened as Hatchet's tattoos rose off his skin to writhe toward them. The blue ink circled their arms over and over again and bound them together. Then, as the tattoos retreated, she noticed that her skin and Prosper's were stained, too. Each pattern represented half of a Celtic symbol she didn't recognize.
Hatchet gave a satisfied nod. "The symbol of one. Apart, you're individuals, alone in the world. Together, your tattoos form perfect unity." He raised his arms once more, and lightning flickered across the entire meadow, forming a dome. "It is done."
The crowd sat silent for a moment, as stunned as Babet felt. Then Hatchet laughed. "Kiss the bride, idiot."
Prosper grinned and yanked Babet to him. His lips claimed hers in a passion that raced to the tips of her toes.
People rushed forward. Cheers went up. Lids were removed from serving dishes, and the party began. Most shifters disappeared for a moment to return to their mortal forms and dress, secure that their identities would be guarded with only witches in attendance. It was the first time for Babet to meet the members of Prosper's pack—a rare privilege that she didn't take lightly.
A huge, muscled, black man strode toward Babet to congratulate her, and she was sure he must be the pack's leader.
"It's an honor to have you join with us," he told her. His voice was crisp and authoritative—a man used to issuing orders. "Shifters need mates. They help keep us stable."
She hadn't thought about that. To her, Prosper always seemed centered and sure of himself. "Prosper looked pretty happy when I first met him," she said.
The man smiled, revealing strong, white teeth. "He'd been looking for a bond mate for a long time. It's not so easy to find one."
"Have you found yours?" Babet wasn't sure he'd answer her. She was surprised she'd even asked.
But he shook his head. "It's even harder when you're an alpha and a pack leader." He nodded toward Prosper. "Your mate could have challenged me for the position and might have won, but he's too busy with police work to worry about it." His grin widened. "Now, he'll have even more things on his mind."
Babet laughed. She liked the alpha. "He doesn't need any more responsibility. We've been busy enough, as is."
"My point. Between your magicks, you two will keep River City safe. Prosper can deal with all the supernaturals, and I'll deal with the pack." He gave a small bow and went to join his fellow shifters.
Witches and Weres mingled, enjoying each others' company. River City was becoming an odd breed of supernaturals, working together. Something rare. The party continued until pink tinged the horizon. Finally, everyone helped with the clean-up, and people began to drift away. Babet's father came to wish her goodbye.
"I have to return to the pits, but it was a pleasure to be here." Gazaar hesitated. "It means a lot to me that you included me."
Babet hugged him. "I'm old enough to understand your absences. I love you, Dad."
Gazaar's expression crumpled for a second before he regained his composure. "I wasn't sure I'd ever hear those words, and I'd have understood."
Babet's mother came to stand beside her husband. "None of us want your job, hon, but we respect it. Babet, too."
He pressed his lips together in a tight line. "Remember. If you think my name, I'll hear your thoughts."
Babet meant to keep that in mind. No stray thoughts about good, old dad at the wrong time. They could prove embarrassing.
Her father watched her closely and laughed. "You're much more like your mother than you realize. She's naughty, too—why I fell for her."
Her mother? Naughty? Babet turned to stare at her mom.
She waved Gazaar away. "Walk me to my car. Hennie and I are dead on our feet."
Gazaar offered an arm to each witch to lead them down the path to the parking area. Morgana slithered after them. She wasn't happy about it, but she was spending the weekend at Hennie and Babet's mother's place.
Finally, Hatchet and Colleen came to say their farewells. Colleen glanced at the sky. "Almost sunrise. We have to go, but it's the weekend, and Hatchet doesn't have to work." Her emerald eyes sparkled. "He's all mine for two days."
Babet's eyes strayed to Colleen's arm. It had the same blue tattoo as hers on the inside skin, between the wrist and elbow.
Colleen gave a satisfied smirk. "We're bound, just like you and Prosper. Two magicks woven as one. Hatchet couldn't resist my copper-red hair."
"Has the bonding changed anything? Are you more than a vampire now?" Babet asked.
"I can feel him, no matter where he is, how far away. And I like it."
Babet leaned against Prosper. "I'll like that, too."
Prosper scooped her into his arms. "It's time to go. Hatchet's not the only one who has the weekend off."
"Here's to sleeping and screwing," Hatchet said. "And sometimes, a food break."
Laughing, they walked to their cars, then went their separate ways.
The drive home didn't take long. It felt odd, entering their yellow bungalow, without Morgana. The boa had been part of their lives since she'd chosen to be Babet's familiar.
Prosper carried Babet over the threshold and locked the door behind them. Then he carried her to their bedroom. When he pushed the door open, Babet's breath caught in her throat. Bouquets of flowers filled each and every surface. Prosper slanted the plantation blinds at the windows so that the first rays of the sun warmed their bed, and then he lowered Babe
t onto new, silk sheets.
"This is beautiful," she said.
"So are you."
After that, there was very little talking for a long, long time.
* * *
Late Sunday evening, Babet and Prosper sat at their small, kitchen table and wolfed down a meal of steak and eggs. After full moons, Babet had thought they made passionate love, but after this weekend, she realized she was wrong. Something about bonding must increase the intensity, because both she and Prosper were spent and starving.
After his second steak and a half dozen eggs, Prosper sighed. "I need sleep. I have to work tomorrow." He stretched. "I don't think I've ever felt this good."
If Babet had bones, she couldn't feel them. Her entire body felt relaxed and happy. "I'm sleeping in. I don't have to pick up Morgana until noon. Mom's using her in one of her morning classes. The young witches don't have familiars yet."
They stacked their dishes in the sink to soak and turned toward the hall that led to their bedroom when loud knocks sounded at the kitchen door.
Prosper's shoulders hunched. "I didn't hear anything."
More knocks sounded.
Babet sighed. "All of our friends know we bonded on Friday."
The knocks rattled the door this time.
Babet tightened the belt on her robe and went to see who was there. She blinked at the vampire standing in her small, back courtyard. "Vittorio?" She didn't know whom she expected to see, but not him.
He had the grace to look uncomfortable. He sniffed and shook his head. He could smell their lovemaking, Babet knew. It was awkward. He said, "I'm sorry. I heard about your bonding. Probably every supernatural in the city heard, and I hate to bother you, but I'm worried."
Babet pulled her robe closer and motioned him inside. If he knew and came anyway, it must be important.
He hesitated before entering. "It's never wise to invite a vampire into your house."
"I'm a witch." She didn't mean to sound so grouchy. "I have protection spells to keep any enemy out. I don't have to worry about it."