Sorcerous Heat

by Lana Ames

  “Wow.” I looked around the gallery again. “And how often do you guys have big parties like last night?”

  He grinned again; I almost expected to see the flash of his vampire fangs, but he was entirely human this morning. “Whenever our lady decides she has something to celebrate…or merely wants to bring her community together.”

  I remembered the elderly sci-fi couple from last night. “Are there…others like her? Other long-lived folks?” And wait a minute: when had I started even halfway believing this cockamamie story? Yet there was something about a madness shared by more than one person that made it somehow more palatable.

  And I did really enjoy talking to this gorgeous man.

  Finley sipped his coffee, nodding. “A few, I believe; this information is rather closely guarded, however, for obvious reasons. But our lady is not alone in the world.”

  “Well, that’s nice,” I said.

  Finley cocked his head at me, still grinning a little. “You may feel free to ask me what you really want to ask, Emma. No need to dance around with small talk.”

  My face flamed as I stammered, “I don’t—” But that was wrong. I did. “Okay. Well. Leaving aside the magic questions for now: do you really want to sleep with me, after you know I spent the night with Justin? And is he really okay with that? And then there’s supposed to be two more guys after that?”

  He laughed heartily, took another sip of his coffee, and set the cup down in its saucer. “Oh, Emma, you are delightful. I cannot wait…” He caught himself and gave me a wry, apologetic smile. “What I’m trying to say is, I love your refreshing candor. Any other girl would try to wriggle out of speaking plainly, but you just came out with it.”

  “Um. Thanks, I guess.” I knew he wasn’t trying to make fun of me, but I felt a little sullen at his laughter. “You said to ask.”

  “I did, and I meant it. And I will do you the courtesy of answering just as plainly.”

  Except now the waiter was at our table again. Food and drink really did have a knack of interrupting the interesting parts of conversations around here. “Were you wanting anything else, sir, miss?”

  Finley raised his eyebrows at me in a silent question.

  “No thanks,” I said. “I’ve already had a great breakfast.” In the bedroom. With Justin.

  “Just a sweet roll for me, thanks,” Finley told him.

  Once the waiter had left again, I looked at Finley pointedly.

  “The answer is yes—to all your questions,” he began. “I love Justin like a brother. We grew up together, as close as any two boys could be who weren’t related. He is my oldest friend, and we have always shared everything in life.

  “Even so, we had never imagined sharing a partner, until we met our Lady Periwinkle. She was calling herself Margaret then; I expect Justin has told you that she must change her name periodically?”

  “Yeah. I thought Lady Periwinkle was just a character name, for last night,” I said. “She really calls herself that out in the real world?”

  Finley chuckled. “She doesn’t go out into the real world much these days. She’s very busy in her fight against Mundon.”

  “Mundon?”

  “The demon. Justin did tell you all this, didn’t he?”

  I nodded. “He did, but not the demon’s name. Go on.”

  “The struggle keeps her here, mostly; this home, and its inhabitants, is the base of her power. She would be far more vulnerable out in the world.”

  I wondered again whether I had actually met her before, then. Surely if she largely kept to the house, she wouldn’t be gallivanting off to downtown art galleries.

  “When we met Margaret,” Finley continued, “we knew instantly that she was unusual. Special. Unique. It was like…” He paused, as if searching for the right word, then shrugged. “Well, magical is really the best way of putting it. I felt magic in even a casual touch by her. Just her hand on my arm made me feel warm and welcomed.”

  I stared at him, remembering how I had felt when I arrived at this strange party last night…warmed and welcomed by Lady Periwinkle’s touch.

  But that didn’t mean she was literally magical. Did it?

  “We knew at once that we would do anything to help her. Anything she asked. She is basically an avatar of all that is right and good in this world. She helps the needy and protects those who are in danger. She uses her great wealth and power to take care of as many others as she can reach. And Mundon threatens to destroy it all.”

  “What is he trying to do to her? Justin told me she’d made some sort of unwise arrangement with him? What did she agree to?”

  Finley sighed. “Demons are just plain wicked, that’s all there is to it. They are very powerful, but they exist solely to trick and punish and hurt. They are basically the opposite measure to Lady Periwinkle and her kind. I know the universe needs balance, but…I don’t know why it has to be this way. And it seems to me that the dark side is in ascendance these days.” He shook his head.

  The waiter arrived with Finley’s sweet roll, set it on the table, and withdrew without further interruption.

  I realized Finley hadn’t really answered my question. “But the demon—what does he have on her? What did she agree to, and why?”

  Finley gazed back at me, his dark eyes intense with emotion. “She was in great trouble about four hundred years ago. She will not tell us much of the details, but she was about to lose everything, including her life. And everyone she was protecting would have suffered as well, or even perished. That, I believe, is ultimately why she did what she did; losing her own life wouldn’t have mattered nearly as much to her as endangering the ones she cared about.”

  I was really starting to like this Lady Periwinkle, darn it. In fact, I was feeling like I wanted to help her…I knew that Finley was no true vampire, that he was as much a human as his best friend Justin, but his powers of persuasion were remarkable.

  He took a bite of his sweet roll, and wiped away a crumb from the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin. “So she called up Mundon and promised to give him…certain things…in return for him increasing her power.”

  “Certain things?” I drank the last sip of my marvelous coffee, wishing I had asked the waiter for a second one.

  Finley now gave me a saucy grin. “Demons are notoriously sexy, as well as being terrible fonts of evil. I believe she bedded with him, and he gave her power in return. She does not like to talk about it, but she’s given enough hints over time.” Then he sobered once more, shaking his head. “What this means is that, though she is goodness itself, her power is commingled with evil power. Her goodness has always had the upper hand. But demons are sneaky. If you’ll forgive the metaphor, it appears that he planted a seed in her at that time. A seed that has been slowly growing, ripening, over the centuries.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “So she’s growing evil?”

  Finley looked aghast, but also—worried? “No! No, she is not; she could never become evil. But she does have a piece of evil inside her. She is powerful enough to keep it contained, to always have the upper hand; but it was small enough, and grew slowly enough, that she did not even detect it until it had taken firm root in her.” He shook his head, ignoring the half-eaten roll on his plate. “It is a big part of the reason why she does not go out into the world. Mundon, or his allies, would be able to seize upon this seed of evil in her and use it. She is protected in here.” His eyes held mine. “We protect her in here.”

  “The…cohorts.”

  He nodded. “Ever since she realized what her deal with Mundon had produced, she has been studying up on how to undo the damage. How to take back her own clean, righteous, ecstatic power and expel the demon magic from inside her. And carnally bonded cohorts of five are the most powerful thing she’s found to date.”

  “Wow.” I played with my empty coffee cup. “How many does she have?”

  Finley looked sad. “We were to be the third.”

  “The third always? Or just the
third now?”

  “Always, as far as this exact configuration. She had to…experiment a bit, to understand the magic.”

  I swallowed, looking around the room so as not to meet his eye, all of a sudden kind of not wanting to know any more. I spotted the waiter, hoveringly discreetly near a doorway leading presumably to the kitchen. I raised my coffee up; he nodded and retreated, returning a moment later with a large silver pot.

  “Thank you,” I said, when the waiter had filled my cup with more café au lait. It steamed, smelling as though it had been made just that instant.

  Magically.

  And it tasted even better than it smelled. I took a big sip, savoring the creamy, nut-colored elixir, before finally looking back up into Finley’s eyes.

  Eyes that were just the same color as rich, dark coffee. I cleared my throat, still uncomfortable. “Well,” I managed, at last. “How…how are the other two cohorts doing? How long have they been, um, in effect?”

  Finley smiled at me across the table. He really was stunningly gorgeous: not just those amazing eyes, but his strong cheekbones, hair so dark it was nearly black, and very kissable lips.

  Not that I would be kissing them. Nope. But I could admit that, in a different universe, I might consider it.

  “The magic bonds are very powerful,” he said. “When our lady first proposed the idea, after researching it very thoroughly, you can be assured that pretty much everyone felt as you do. I know we did. None of the people involved had ever dreamed of, shall we say, alternative lifestyles. In fact, in the first cohort, a woman and her husband formed the first bond. His brother was added next, and then two of their good friends. Even so, there was a little settling-in until everyone was entirely comfortable with the arrangement.”

  “I imagine.”

  “Interestingly, living space was one of the most complicated details to be worked out,” Finley said. “Our lady needs her cohorts to be physically near her as much as possible, so two years ago, she bought this house. But a cohort of five needs at least four rooms.”

  “Everyone doesn’t just always sleep together all the time?” I blurted out.

  Finley gave a wry grin. “I am not privy to all the sleeping details, but I do understand that most nights, arrangements are mostly…traditional. The woman sleeps with one of the men, and the other members of the cohort sleep alone, nearby.”

  “Hmm.” I nodded, sipping my coffee. And why was I asking all these nosy questions? I wasn’t considering this.

  I wasn’t.

  I could sense Finley watching me carefully, no doubt wondering the same thing.

  So I finished my coffee—again—and set the cup down. “Well, thank you for the time, and for the coffee. It was amazing, but I really should be getting home now.”

  He looked startled, but rose to his feet when I did. “You are most welcome. Any time.”

  I started across the room; he took my arm again gently, almost tentatively, leaving me free to draw away if I wanted to. For some reason, I let his hand stay, let him walk so close to me. I told myself I wasn’t appreciating his scent, his proximity.

  But I was lying to myself. My whole body was yearning to get even closer.

  Though I still wasn’t ready to believe in magic, I could not deny that there was something peculiar going on here. Something irresistible.

  Nevertheless, I was determined to resist it.

  In the front hall, another servant materialized—another butler, dressed as formally as the rest. “Your wrap, miss,” he said, handing me my long trench coat.

  Oh wow, I had almost forgotten my coat. My brain was that addled. Though I wouldn’t have gotten far without it: I had put my keys and phone and wallet in the coat’s pockets last night rather than carrying a purse and ruining my costume.

  All things I had given not one thought to since handing the coat away last night.

  “Thank you,” I said, as Finley helped me into it.

  As he settled the fabric on my shoulders, he leaned in, almost brushing my ear with his lips. “I do hope I see you again, Emma,” he whispered, then drew back.

  “Um, I…yes,” I stammered, as a sharp wave of desire rushed through me. Ignore it, ignore it, I told myself sternly. I had made my decision. I was being responsible.

  The butler drew the large, heavy wooden door open, letting in the day’s bright sunlight. Finley picked up my hand and kissed the back of it, his luscious lips lingering over my sensitive flesh. Another shiver of need ran through me.

  Then he rose, released my hand, and gave me a short bow. “Good day.”

  “Bye…”

  I stepped outside, then stood on the porch a moment, looking around and just breathing while I waited for my mind to catch up with me. I felt dizzy with desire. Think, woman. Remember who you are.

  It had been dark when I’d arrived last night, so I hadn’t seen the amazing gardens that surrounded the house. All I remembered was the long gravel walkway from the street, lit by gaslamps, and the mansion beyond.

  I took a few more deep breaths, finally feeling ready to walk back down the gravel path. As I did, I let all the events of the past fourteen or so hours wash over me. Okay, I’d had an amazing time—at the party, and with Justin. But now it was time to return to the real world.

  As I emerged onto the street, I dug around and found my car keys. My phone was in the same pocket; I pulled it out as well, checking for texts. There was only one, from Kelly, my roommate.

  Must have been a great party! I’ve fed Trixie, and I’m off to work: see you tonight for all the dirt!

  I smiled as I tucked the phone away again. Of course Kelly would leap to the obvious conclusion when I didn’t come home last night.

  Well, and of course she wasn’t wrong, was she?

  I unlocked my car as I wondered how much to tell her. Just the hot sex with the hot guy, I thought; but then she’d wonder why I wasn’t going to see him any more. I didn’t want to lie to her…but how could I tell her the truth?

  I could pretend that Justin and I had agreed that it was just a one-time thing; or that he was married or had a girlfriend or something…but, none of that was like me. Kelly would know, even if I did feel comfortable lying. Which I didn’t.

  Well, I would decide later.

  I drove out of the Ferrinton Heights neighborhood and back toward where I belonged. The city got dingier and dingier the further down the hill I got. And more crowded, ugly, and angry. I got honked at three times in six blocks—and it wasn’t because I was driving distractedly, I swear. I sighed, slamming on my brakes to avoid a little red car running a stop sign four blocks from home, trying not to think about my night and morning in a quiet, elegant mansion with gorgeous men who wanted me and liveried servants bearing the world’s best coffee.

  Of course there was no parking; I finally found a spot a block and a half from my apartment, and then almost had to fight for it, as an angry middle-aged woman in a big Cadillac swore she’d seen it first. “That car won’t even fit in this spot,” I muttered as I locked the door and hurried off down the sidewalk before she could get out of her Caddy and come deck me.

  Once safely in my apartment with the door triple-locked behind me, I heaved a sigh of relief. Trixie, my fluffbutt of a cat, meandered over from wherever she’d been napping.

  “Kelly already told me she fed you, so don’t even start with me,” I told her, bending down to scritch her ears.

  Trixie just purred.

  I hung my coat up in my closet, plugged my phone in to charge up, stood in front of the fridge staring at its contents without taking anything out, paced across the apartment to my bedroom and back out to the living room/kitchen again, then flopped on the couch with another sigh. Trixie came to be petted; I indulged her a few minutes.

  I got up and checked my email. Nothing important.

  Then I cruised the internet a while. Nothing important.

  I didn’t have to be at work till the day after tomorrow. It was my weekend; there ought
to be something I wanted to do.

  (There was something I wanted to do.) (But I didn’t want to do it.)

  I flopped back on the couch and picked up the remote, flicking on the TV, flipping through channels. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

  Back to the fridge. But I wasn’t hungry, and I’d had plenty of coffee today.

  (It was a really bad idea to do it.)

  (But…why?)

  “Stop it,” I said aloud. I didn’t believe them—any of them. There was no magic, demons did not exist, and there was absolutely no reason to join some crazy sex cult. No matter how compelling the members might be.

  Very, very compelling members…ahem…

  “Stop it!” I said again. Trixie looked up at me. I scratched her ears again, and she went back to sleep.

  So what if there’s no magic? a little voice inside me reasoned. What if it’s only two super-hot men who both want to sleep with you, and are both okay with it?

  (I couldn’t think about more than two men. I know they’d said four. Two was ridiculous enough.)

  (But also…kind of exciting, I had to admit.)

  Finally, after an hour of this, I went back to my computer, opened up a text file, and began making lists. Pros and cons.

  Pro: Justin and Finley both wanted me. I had just had the best sex of my life with Justin; Finley was at least as hot as him. Didn’t I want to give him a try?

  Con: What was I, crazy? I didn’t do this kind of thing.

  Pro: Both men, despite wanting this very, very badly and doing their best to talk me into it, had respected my reservations and had not subjected me to undue pressure at any time. (If you ignored Finley’s poor timing walking in on us this morning…but in his defense, he had thought I was already on board.)

  Con: Everybody knew that sleeping with multiple partners was a bad idea, no matter how much all the participants pretended they were on board with it. Someone’s feelings always got hurt. You could never treat all your partners equally. I’d read enough articles about polyamory to know this.