by Cherrie Mack
“Come back to me.” She placed her hand over her belly. “To us.”
“I love you, Little Witch.”
Julien left her standing in the moonlight as he shifted into an owl and flew off into the darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Inside the mansion, Simon stood with his ear pressed to a door. Desiree was inside, accompanied by the watcher, Colt. She was laughing, a teasing tone that had Simon’s hair standing up on the back of his neck. Eavesdropping, he was appalled by what he heard. Colt refused her request, only he couldn’t quite make out what she wanted. But he had a feeling.
“Why?” He heard her speak. “You had no problem when we were trapped together. You took it off then. Why not now? No one is here.”
“Okay, okay. New Orleans witches sure are demanding. Learn to let the man lead once in a while.”
“Oh, stop complaining and get on with it. I want to see it again.”
Simon heard the sound of a zipper and felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He’d always been a jealous man and the sound of that zipper made him furious. There was a reason he abhorred the modern-day witch. They were too sassy. Pressing his ear to the door, harder this time, he heard Desiree’s voice. “It’s bigger than I remember. Let me get a closer look.”
That’s it! He stood up, shock causing him to pace. Not knowing what he should do, he pressed his ear back against the door.
This time it was Colt who spoke. “I bet your traveler, Simon, doesn’t have one like this?”
Simon stepped back and drew his sword. I’ll kill that watcher!
“Simon? What are you doing?” The soft voice had him swirling around. Giselle had caught him red-handed, acting like an ass. He straightened, giving her a curt bow.
“Your Highness, I— I’m just practicing.” He jabbed at the air with his sword.
Giselle tilted her head. “I see.”
“Are you okay, Your Highness?”
“Yes. Just roaming the halls for some air. Are you okay?”
“I will be fine.”
She smiled a sweet, knowing smile. “Yes, you will be.” She looked towards the closed door and then back to him. “Colt is showing Desiree his mark.”
“Oh?”
Giselle giggled. “The eye—on his ankle?”
“Oh. Yes of course. No worries, Your Highness.”
She caressed his cheek. “She will need some time, but she will be yours once again. Let her come to you, and when she does, you must take baby steps. No more Mister Domineering. Do you understand?”
Simon narrowed his eyes, trying to grasp her words. “Tell me, Your Highness, is this advice based on your friendship or something more?”
Giselle pursed her lips. “I am tired. I think I will go lie down. Goodnight, Simon.”
“Goodnight, My Queen.”
Chapter Forty
Nine months later
In remote Ivan forest in Serbia, Julien found the warlock, Judias, hiding. He had traveled months through the cold and desolate mountains with only one memory to sustain his weary body and mind. Giselle Jareau. The memory of her beautiful face and tremendous spirit kept him warm on the cold sleepless nights. He finally understood why most travelers who hunt in these parts go mad and lose their humanity.
Following his nose, he neared the Albanian border. When the scent could no longer be detected, he knew the warlock had fed. He was too late. He would have to wait weeks until his chance came again. He was discouraged and freezing. It was so cold here, and he longed for the sun. He’d been gone for months and was anxious to get back to Giselle.
Julien decided to give up for the night, when the moon’s light lit up the ground like a beacon. He curiously followed it, as if it were prodding him, pushing him to move forward. Stepping swiftly through the trees, he came to a clearing. There he saw Judias, sitting by a fire.
When the warlock spotted him, he quickly looked around. With nowhere to run, the warlock stood and faced the traveler. “Well, well, well. I’ve had word from Zacharias that you hunt me, traveler.”
“Zacharias is dead. Killed by Jacques the night of the battle.”
“That’s what Jacques would like you to believe. Zacharias still walks among us. But I can give him to you. Score some points with Jacques, maybe? Or the queen? Tell me what you want. Anything. I have the power to make it so.”
“The only thing I want is you, dead.”
Judias crooked his long, pointy finger at Julien. “Tsk, tsk, traveler. What a shame.” His voice grew raspy, his eyes glowing red as fear triggered his only defense mechanism. His fingers lengthened to knives, his bones stretching until the snapping was audible.
Julien prepared for battle, standing unmoving before the murderous creature. The dance of death began when the warlock and the traveler each took their fighting stance. He pulled his sword from his hip and swung it high above his head. Before bringing the sword down upon the warlock, he froze.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
He stared at the blond-haired little sister he missed so much.
She looked at him, frightened and shivering. “You mustn’t hurt me. I love and miss you so much. Please, Julien. Don’t.”
Looking at his long dead sister had him unable to take a blade to her. He struggled with indecision when she reached her hand out to him. Just then, a beautiful light shined behind her illuminating her silhouette. There was warmth in the light, and Julien felt a pull to step into it. Joyal inched closer, but her attention was averted to something behind him. He carefully backed away and looked toward her stare.
The silhouette of a woman stood in the distance. The ghost-like shape stared at Joyal. Julien was transfixed by the sight. And there was something familiar about her. But he was so cold, and his need to step into Joyal’s warmth was overwhelming him. Julien took a step in the direction of the warmth, when he recalled the master’s ramblings from many months before. The assignment you have before you is one of grave danger. It can lead you down the darkest of paths, or it can lead you into the light. When faced with the choice you must choose wisely. Everything is not how it seems. Follow your heart and you shall be saved”
He quickly glanced back toward the figure. It was Giselle. She was having a vision—of him. Not wanting to let his guard down, Julien swiveled his body around to face the creature who still had the appearance of his little sister, Joyal.
Joyal’s eyes were looking past him now and she began to shake. Her voice was turning in intervals from that of a little girl into something more sinister. Julien had his moment of complete clarity. His eyes gazed, not upon his lovely sister, but Judias. And it was then he took his ultimate revenge. The warlock, taken by surprise, screamed in agony as Julien’s blade cut him. And when his fangs were ripped from his mouth the souls that met an untimely death, had finally been freed.
Julien watched the mist of freedom rise high into the night sky and just for a moment, he heard the familiar laughter of a little girl who held his heart. He saw the outline of Joyal as she giggled and smiled and blew him a kiss. It was a beautiful sight, and when the mist disappeared and the bones of the old warlock lay in a pile, Julien was left alone in the cold, bleak darkness with only the memory of the love of his little witch to keep him warm.
Chapter Forty-One
Late Summer-Beaumont Plantation
Julien enjoyed the time he spent as a falcon flying at top speed toward Beaumont Plantation. He would close up the house for good before traveling to Cottonwood Landing for a respite. The master had agreed to allow travelers to mate, yet continue to fight, and he had much recruiting to do. But now, he was worn down with exhaustion and interested in only Giselle.
He landed at the edge of the path leading up to the main house. He would shift to his human form and walk the rest of the way. Thinking about his journey, he knew it was Giselle that brought him home safely. She was with him on every step of his trek, giving him solace. He felt her presence, her protection, and her love. Even now, in this very
moment, he could feel her. The little witch got under his skin and weaseled her way into his heart. A smiling Julien let the memories of their time together on Beaumont Plantation stir his emotions. How he would love to bring her here to live.
The hour of the setting sun was approaching as he made his way up the road that would take him to his beloved house. Soon it would be twilight, Giselle’s favorite time of the evening. A late summer breeze blew softly over his skin. He was anticipating the low hanging trees, the dried up grass and his house, with its slowly peeling paint revealing scars of a time of great sorrow. But he remained thankful for the last year.
Although he lost his sister, he knew she was happy now. The ability to think of Joyal and remember her vivacious spirit with delight, instead of sorrow, gave him a sense of satisfaction. He could finally accept her death. The knowledge of his successful journey to free her soul and the finality of his devotion to a sister, who will remain in his heart and never be forgotten, eased the burden.
The beauty of the sky was glorious as the shades of night began to descend over the landscape. Shadows gathered, the end of day approaching. Soon the sky would surrender the sun, only to replace it with the pure, white light of the moon. Julien stood on the path leading up to his estate, steeling himself for the harsh reality of his home without Giselle’s presence. But instead, what he saw had him mesmerized.
On a late summer evening in the Louisiana Bayou, nature was in full swing. All around him blooms appeared, with colors so vibrant it made him look twice. The grass was mossy green and turned still to the brilliant green hues of summer. The oaks, the pride of Beaumont Plantation, were slowly lifting their branches in salute. With hurried feet, Julien rushed up the path until he glimpsed his home. The magnificent columns appeared straight and pristine, the home glowing with the ethereal appearance of an era long gone. And stepping out into the glory of a late summer breeze was his queen. Giselle opened her arms, walking unrushed toward him.
She waved her hands in a beautiful, synchronized motion. With each step, she bathed the earth with her light. Nature responded by blooming ever still, coming out of the funk of nothingness. It was one of the most amazing things he ever witnessed. And his land was the most beautiful he’d ever seen it.
Julien stopped, leaning his weight against an old tree trunk and folded his arms. He wanted to watch her. This confident and graceful queen was a far cry from the little witch he met last year. She wore a white, flowing dress, covering every inch of that luscious body he wanted more of the minute he saw her.
When Giselle got close enough, his eyes widened and his mouth hung open. While the sun made its departure, the arrival of a full moon could be seen taking over the sky in a brilliant golden light. She looked at peace. Her body was outlined in a golden haze and when she turned to the side, he glimpsed a rounded belly. With one hand resting on her stomach, she reached out to him with the other. When the blissful song of the cicadas wafted on the wind, he closed the gap between them and put his hand to her belly. The flutter of a kick was unmistakable and it had his heart singing.
Giselle laughed. “Your daughter must know that her daddy has arrived, and that this beautiful place is home.”
“Home? Can we stay here?”
Giselle looked around. “Yes. With my blessing, your father will stay in Cottonwood Landing and remain as acting head of the royal family. You and I will raise our brood right here, in the place where I fell in love with you. The place where we will marry.”
Julien sunk to his knees and placed his lips to her stomach. “My body and mind have traveled the earth in search of Judias. But my heart has been here with you, always.”
She pulled him up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “We will marry before our daughter is ready to come.”
“How long do we have?”
“She will be along shortly.”
“I love you, Little Witch.”
“I love you, too.”
Julien placed his hand over her stomach. This time, there was a strong and deliberate kick. They laughed at their daughter’s mischief, walking arm and arm toward the house. Julien stopped, gazing at her. “She will arrive soon, you say?”
“Very soon, I’d say a few more days.”
“Have you thought about a name?”
“Would you like Joyal?”
“I think I’d rather Angelonia.” Julien rolled up his sleeve to display the tattoo that was as real as any living, breathing flower. “My guess is that it filled in as you filled out.”
She raised her brow. “Angelonia. Yes. I love it.”
“Then Angelonia it will be. Our late summer bloom.”
The End
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