by Cherrie Mack
****
In an alley, behind a trash heap, Julien shifted back to his human form. His decision to shift into a small animal hadn’t been smart. With limited shifting time in the earthly realm, who knows how long she could’ve held onto him. His heart beat fast thinking of the consequence of his action. He must think things through before reacting. But watching Giselle from afar had him curious. At the tender age of nineteen, she was in the essence of her beauty and innocence. She wore a simple white tee-shirt with loose fitting, stonewashed jeans that hung low on her waist. Her dark hair was piled high on her head in somewhat of a messy mound, with a few tendrils that escaped falling around her beautiful face. Her lips looked plump, but her eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses. And it was her eyes he longed to see. His instinct told him there wasn’t an evil bone in her body. The way she held him was an indication of a caring nature. She wasn’t at all what he expected. Irritated, he kicked the nearest trash can.
Not usually interested in comforting a weepy woman, her tears had shaken him. His need to ease her pain was crushing, but Julien held fast to his anger. Joyal’s soul is wasting away while he plays babysitter to this witch, and he refused to lose sight of that. A witch to the tenth power could not be this naïve.
Chapter Nine
Giselle slept late for two mornings, depression weighing her down. Spilling her emotions to Desiree had been exhausting. As she stretched her arms up over her head, her bed shook with great force. Opening one eye, she tried to adjust her vision.
Desiree loomed over her, hands on her hips, a scowl on her face.
Giselle lifted herself up into a sitting position and rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “What? What’s going on?”
“Get up,” Desiree scolded. “I don’t know how you can possibly sleep in such a noisy city. Voices all night long, right outside the window, and still you sleep like the dead. You and I are going out. You’ve been here for two whole days and all you’ve done is eat junk food by the bag full and cry yourself to sleep. I’m done. You will get up, brush those damn teeth, and pull yourself together.”
“Alright, already.” Giselle threw her blanket to the side and yawned. “Where are we going?”
“Out. You need a haircut and some new clothes. Honestly—you are living in New Orleans—not on a farm. Besides, I refuse to sit inside another day. We must go outside and clear our mind, breathe in the air, get our blood pumping.”
“Okay—okay. I’m getting up.” Yawning, she sat on the edge of the pull out couch.
Desiree threw Giselle’s pillows to the floor and pulled the sheet off the bed, forcing her to stand.
“I think we’ll go to The Funky Pirate on Bourbon Street tonight for some dancing.” She glanced at Giselle, who stood unmoving. “You know where the shower is. Go. Now! I will not take no for an answer.”
“You can be a real witch when you want to be.” Giselle turned and stomped in the direction of the bathroom, trying to stifle her giggle.
“And hurry up.” Desiree called after her. “I get mean the longer I wait for my Café au lait”
****
Giselle was dead on her feet. How can a witch shop all day long? It was store after store with no end in sight. She welcomed her new haircut and a visit to the nail salon with enthusiasm, as it provided a much needed break from the incessant shopping. And although she lost the argument regarding her new hair style, she wasn’t altogether disappointed with the outcome. But, on the way back to freshen up for their night out, Desiree stopped yet again.
“Really? Stopping again?”
“Giselle—you would think you’d love shopping in such fine stores. What shops are there around Angelique’s place?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Mm. That’s what I thought. Come. This won’t take but a minute.”
“Fine.” With her hands full of purchases, she lost her footing, but managed to right herself. While the door slowly closed, she reached out for the doorknob. That’s when she felt it.
There was a slight pull of energy drawing her away from the entrance. She stopped. Looking around, her attention rested on the approach of a handsome stranger. His dark hair and electric-blue eyes were like fingers reaching out for her. Walking on the sidewalk, he zigzagged his way toward her. And as he came closer, the need to go to him overpowered her senses.
The bell on the old wooden door to the store rang, signaling the arrival of a customer and diverting her attention.
“Come, Giselle.” Desiree shouted to her, snapping her out of her dreamy trance-like state.
“I’m coming.” Giselle walked under Desiree’s outstretched arms and entered the Goddess of Love shop. When she glanced back, hoping to catch another glimpse of the man, she found Desiree watching as he walked past.
A long moment passed before Desiree turned around, the look of concern on her face replaced by a smile.
“Now, we need sexy underwear to go with your new outfit.”
Rolling her eyes, Giselle mumbled. “I hate sexy underwear. It can be so itchy.”
****
The Funky Pirate was one of the best blues bars in the French quarter. And even though it was early in the night, people crowded the bar waiting patiently for their signature drink, the Latter. Giselle sipped her non-alcoholic version of the scrumptious concoction and licked her lips. She noticed Desiree was very popular amongst the male witches. And Giselle knew it wasn’t just because of her good looks and beautifully curvaceous figure. Desiree was fun. And Giselle was having a great time watching her hold a large man in a headlock.
“Say it!” Desiree insisted. “Say stupendous.” She tightened her grip.
He was chuckling as he wrestled her arms away. “Okay—okay. Your ass looks better than great. It looks—stupendous.”
Desiree smiled and let him go. She brushed at his lapel. “That’s better, you indignant brute. Now go. Leave me to my friends tonight. We have next week to make love until dawn.”
The man pecked her cheek and walked to the other end of the bar.
Giselle laughed. “Desiree? Who was that?”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “An old lover, Mon Cheri.”
“Old lover? You just said—”
Desiree waved her hand in the air. “I think I’ve had my share of him. I don’t like to drag things out. He’s not for me.” She glanced to the end of the bar, where the man sat talking to more than a few women. “But I will miss his ways. He can stay hard all night long.”
“I wouldn’t know—I can only dream.”
Desiree turned to look at her. Reaching out, she put her hand on her arm in a show of support. “Giselle, as much as I kid around—finding your first can be difficult. It cannot be rushed. Doing it for the sake of doing it will not satisfy you. Take it from me. I’ve been with different men, but I’ve always felt like something was missing. I’ve never had a real connection. Just sex.”
Giselle narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips together. “Well, just sex at this point might be better than never knowing.”
Desiree tilted her head, her expression sympathetic. Removing her hand, she sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “Let’s not talk about such depressing things. Let us drink and laugh the night away.”
Giselle giggled. “Okay Desiree, just a couple more questions.”
“Ugh. You drive me crazy. What do you want to know?”
“Have you ever been with a human man?”
Desiree quirked her mouth, blowing a stray curl straight up. “Yes. I have. They are the same as witches. Men all have the same parts, Giselle. Except of course, the travelers. They have two cocks.”
Giselle’s eyes widened, the shock must have been apparent on her expression causing Desiree to burst out laughing.
Giselle shook her head in exasperation. “Nice. It’s a great time for jokes.”
“I’m sorry Giselle, but you should see your face?”
“Have you ever even met a traveler?”
“No.
These male witches are enough for me.”
An hour later, The Funky Pirate was bursting at the seams. Giselle couldn’t hear a word, so her eyes did all the work. When she glanced at the same man who enthralled her today, she thought it was fate. If Desiree hadn’t dragged her into The Love Goddess for underwear, she’d probably be on a date right now. The way he eyed her, she knew he was interested. At first, she hadn’t thought about her clothing or hair. But right now, she was thankful to Desiree. For the first time, she looked like a woman and not a little girl.
She wore a fitted off the shoulder, deep purple mini-dress and black, strappy, high-heeled sandals. Her hair was layered, giving her curls more bounce, and her eye makeup brought out the lavender-colored flecks in her dark eyes. Giselle used her eyes to flirt with the one man who had her belly fluttering. He smiled at her, making direct eye contact. Suddenly, Giselle’s gut rolled with nausea. As she rushed to the ladies room, she felt her drink slowly rising up from the pit of her stomach into the base of her throat. The further she got from the bar, the more her ill at ease feeling dissipated.
Clutching her stomach, she waited to be sure the feeling passed before returning to the bar. Music, loud and soulful, began to thrum throughout the tavern. Feeling dizzy yet uninhibited, Giselle let herself wander to the middle of the tavern. To her left was Desiree and to the right was the stranger she had flirted with. He watched her with such intensity, she felt herself lose focus. And then—she felt it.
Hitting her like a freight train barreling out of control, evil made its presence known. Somewhere in this tavern, a dark energy lurked. Her inexperience worked against her, but her instinct recognized danger. Had the others sensed it too? She immediately scanned the bar for Desiree and waved her over. Giselle wondered why she and her coven hadn’t reacted.
As she took her first step toward Desiree, he stepped into her eye line. Standing handsome and tall, he remained stoic, unmoving, except to reach his hand out to her. Feeling a slight pull, Giselle took a step away from Desiree, toward the stranger. And another step. Slowly, she moved closer, when she felt herself run into an invisible wall. A resistance, stopping her from walking forward. It urged her back, as if two magnets were pushed together on opposite sides. They repelled each other.
Unable to get closer to the ice-blue eyed stranger, her need to go to him grew unbearable. And although she felt the power around her, buzzing through her like an electric current, she remained still. She was at the crux of this battle between two sources of energy and she struggled with indecision. Her overwhelming need to be with the stranger compelled her forward. She needed a spell to break this invisible current, but for that, she would need help.
Turning to her friend, realization struck. Every bottle and glass hummed with a vibration. Desiree was looking past her—at him! In that moment she realized that it was Desiree who erected the force field. Giselle stepped back at once, retreating. The music pounded in her ears, hampering her efforts to focus on a solution. White hot energy crackled over her head when another powerful force entered the arena. This one was as dangerous as anything she’d ever felt.
Giselle knew Desiree’s force field was too weak to hold back such a force. Not knowing which way to go, she turned and ran toward the exit. Glasses above the bar began to explode, one by one, each pop sending shards of glass flying through the air. She heard bottles breaking and people shouting. Chaos broke out while she bobbed and weaved her way toward the front door. Getting closer, she slid to a stop.
The man from her vision stood by the door, blocking the exit.
Wearing a long black trench coat with his arms folded across his chest, his golden hair reached past his shoulders. His eyes bore into her and seemed to light a slow fire low in her groin. He was beautiful, but his expression silently chastised her. Confused, she took a step to the left, when he put his finger in the air and wagged it back and forth, as if her retreat from him was a no-no. A move to the right, and he repeated his slow finger wag.
Is he serious? All hell’s breaking loose and he wants to play games?
Giselle decided she would not be caught. Not tonight. She turned and broke into a run toward the fire exit. She managed to get past the tremendous exchange of energy threatening to destroy the Funky Pirate. It was almost as if she were in the middle of an earthquake. Without losing focus, she ran toward the door and pushed the handle down with all her might. Through the door and out of breath, she looked up and down a deserted alley. She could hear clambering on the fire exit, patrons trying to follow her lead, but they were trapped. It was as if the door had opened for her alone. It was then she realized it wasn’t the customers who were trapped. It was her.
Before she could react, she heard the roar of a motorcycle come to a screeching halt.
“Get on!” The man wearing the trench coat shouted over the engine.
Unsure what to do, she yelled back, “Or what?”
“Or. I’ll. Put. You. On.”
Deciding to trust her vision, Giselle pulled her dress up around her hips and straddled the bike. She noticed him look away. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her forehead to his back. As they roared out of the alley and into the night, Giselle could think only one thing.
Thank the gods for sexy underwear.
Chapter Ten
Giselle’s legs were cramped and the wind, although warm, chilled her to the bone. The air was damp and the smell of the swamp loomed close. The bike slowed down, no longer going straight but making turns, leaving her dizzy. As they neared a desolate area on a back road, the man who rescued her from The Funky Pirate parked the bike. She could sense his anger when he climbed off. Not knowing what to do next, Giselle remained seated, watching his movements. He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. Letting it out didn’t seem to quell his agitation, because he was curt with her. “I want to know what happened back there.”
“What exactly do you mean?”
“Well, for instance, how do you know I’m not a warlock?”
“Because—”
“Because? What?”
Because you and I are getting hot and heavy in a vision I had. Oh, and by the way, my sight is a curse and I’m slated to turn into a raging evil warlock in a few short weeks! “Because I just know, that’s all.”
“You just know?” Methodically he approached her, so close she licked her lips in response. Leaning over, his hands on the bike, he looked into her eyes, then quickly broke the connection. “Tell me, Giselle, all mighty and powerful one, how do you know I’m not going to kill you out here in the dark swamp with no one around for miles?”
“How do you know my name?”
He stood straight. “You haven’t answered my question.”
She cleared her throat. “What question?”
“How do you know I’m not a warlock? That’s my question. Is it a feeling? Did you get assistance from the coven? Is there something about me that screams traveler?”
Her eyes widened. “You’re a traveler?” Giselle smiled, trying not to look between his legs.
He rolled his eyes at her and threw his hands in the air. “I guess that answers that.”
She noted his contemptuous smirk as he continued to berate her.
“You really are oblivious, aren’t you? And now, I’m stuck with you. I have to train you to fight the most evil warlock of our time, so our race can survive into the next generation, and you think I’m here to play twenty questions? Perfect! Just what I want to do for the next few weeks—train the tenth power so she can send all of us spiraling down into the pit.”
As he delivered a look of pure condescension he spat. “And by the looks of things, I haven’t got much to work with.” She choked back her tears and got off the bike. Prepared to tell him off, she straightened her spine. When he narrowed his eyes, she promptly bolted into the swamp.
Running in high heels through the muck was not what she expected of a fun night out. What a pompous jerk. Giselle knew she was no m
atch for the traveler, and she also knew he was right. She was a big fat waste of time. She needed some space, and this was the only way she thought to get it. She would not allow him to see the hurt he inflicted upon her.
As her run slowed to a brisk walk, Giselle held her side, gasping for breath. Exasperated by his behavior, her frustration grew. This traveler is the man from her vision. She was sure of it. Yet, his treatment of her was so unkind. But, why? This was not turning out the way she thought. What happened to the love and tenderness she glimpsed in her vision? Fighting back her tears, she stopped to lean on a bald cypress tree to rest.
The night was eerily quiet, making Giselle realize she was alone in a swamp. She assumed the traveler would come after her. Did he leave her? The familiar smell of Aunt Angelique’s composting can wafted under her nose. Suddenly, she studied her surroundings in a panic. Sure enough, there was water nearby. A chill ran up her spine as the word alligator came to mind.
An owl could be heard shrieking above her head. Then silence. Should she wait or try to find her way back? A rustling sound made her freeze. No sooner had she thought about predators, an alligator made its appearance.
Remaining still, horrified, it came closer as she began to yell for help. “Uh—someone? Anyone—I need help.” The alligator inched itself forward, stalking her. In a naïve attempt to get away, she scrambled up the tree. Her foot slipped, and the creature’s jaws snapped at her. When it hissed, Giselle looked around, hoping to find something she could use to fight it off. A blustery breeze began to blow, and her adrenalin pumped harder and her heart beat wildly.
Scared to look in the direction of the beast, she kept her eyes shut tight. Until—she heard his laughter. Her eyes snapped open. There he was. The traveler had been the alligator. Hanging from the tree limb coiled up like a snake, she must’ve looked a sight. And he stood there laughing?