Sex and the Psychic Witch

by Annette Blair

  King watched them go. “How can you not tell them apart?” he asked his friends.

  “I know what you mean,” Aiden said, watching as well. “I know which one is Storm. She walks and flirts with sassitude.”

  “Which witch is the witch that starts with a B ?” Morgan asked.

  “Don’t mix up the B witch and the W witch around them,” King said. “You might find yourself growing a tail.”

  At supper, the triplet whose tight butterscotch V-neck tee said Destiny arrived first, wearing jeans and cowboy boots.

  “What? No Spurs?” Morgan asked, before he ducked the pickle the cowgirl threw.

  King was afraid the Storm triplet would scare Jake. She’d traded her blonde bombshell look for purple hair and lips, and a spiked dog collar. Her black spiderweb skirt made her look like a female vampire, and her boots probably came with a whip. But Aiden was beaming.

  “Rev your engine?” Storm asked.

  Aiden’s eyes glazed over. “Vroom.”

  Last to the table, the hellcat arrived in peach spikes and matching tee with a gauzy rust orange skirt flowing around her legs, a tiger lily above her breasts and at each ear.

  “Our father did this to us,” Destiny said, opening her napkin. “He made us wear name shirts, at home, till

  we left for college.”

  “Irresponsible and clueless,” Storm said. “We were trading shirts at Jake’s age.”

  Harmony nodded. “It’s Dad’s fault we’re hooked on literal statement shirts. I mean, we don’t like these, but they have their uses.”

  “I’ve started hoping for messages,” King admitted, “so call me a convert.”

  “Harmony,” Storm chided. “Did you wear the O donor shirt?”

  “She did.” Aiden’s appreciation annoyed King.

  Aiden winked at Storm. “I gotta go start that wall.” But he didn’t move, probably because she didn’t.

  “What’s with the gigundous boxes in the great hall?” Harmony asked, offering King the potatoes.

  “Clothes, toddler furniture, supplies, mattresses. We’re converting the dorm wing into bedrooms. The adults will use the furniture we’ve got.”

  “But it has negative energy.” Harmony sighed and looked at her sisters. “We have some neutralizing to do. My sisters are staying for a few days. We have enough cots.”

  “We’re filling up the dorm by the minute,” Reggie said.

  Harmony looked up, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Why? Who else is staying?”

  “Aiden and I,” Morgan said. “King asked us to stick around, roll up our sleeves, and move furniture.”

  “Yummy,” Storm said. “A coed sleepover.”

  Reggie cleared her throat. “Yoo-hoo. Two-year-old in the dorm.”

  “Bummer,” Storm said.

  Aiden gave Storm a wink. “Keep me company while I clean the wall?”

  “I’m outta here.” Storm followed Aiden from the kitchen.

  “I’m gonna get Jake ready for bed,” Reggie said, “so by the time anybody comes up, he’ll be asleep.”

  “We’ll try to be quiet,” King hefted Jake in his arms for a good night hug. “Night, sport. I’m sorry, Regg, I should have finished your room today.”

  “We’ve never had a room of our own. Jake won’t wake up, he—no we—grew up in shelters, people coming and going all night, sometimes drunk. I sleep with one eye open, but nothing wakes him. Night,”

  she said as she left.

  King sat and felt the weight of her suffering. His fault. All his fault.

  “I’m gonna watch Aiden do the wall,” Destiny said. “We’ll need you in a little while, Sis.”

  King gazed at Harmony.

  Morgan scraped his chair back. “Three’s a crowd, so I’m . . . like you care.”

  “Be there in a minute,” Harmony said.

  King wanted to take her for a stroll through the parlor car, but he needed some questions answered.

  “Why are your sisters really staying?”

  “To neutralize the negative energy in the rooms and furniture. Not much around here is positive.”

  “I’m positive I want you in a bed.”

  “For the record, I’m . . . open . . . to the possibility. But our wailing resident is seriously scary. The cats went berserk in the toy room today. I need my sisters for backup.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Together, we combine our magick and harness our psychic energy. Together, we become the power of three as one. Together, we’re powerful witches.”

  Chapter Thirty

  HARMONY didn’t have time to calm King, no matter how much the power of three unnerved him. “I have to go,” she said. “My sisters and I need to interpret the message in that mural . . . together. We sense the mural’s there for a reason.”

  “Are all witches psychic?” King asked. “Or are you unusual in that you’re psychics in addition to being witches?”

  “The two often go together. Don’t tell me; you don’t believe in psychics any more than you believe in witches or ghosts, right?”

  “I believe you brought something frightening to life in this place.”

  “You narrow-minded son of a . . . witch.”

  “You’ve got my mother down perfectly,” King said.

  “I was talking about Gussie. You can’t seriously blame me for her?”

  “I can blame you for bringing her out of hiding.”

  “Excuse me, I shut her up. She’s probably less malevolent now than she’s been in years, because I’m here. And she’s more constrained now that my sisters are here.”

  “Then explain what happened to Reggie. That never happened before.”

  “Reggie’s never been here before. Morgan said accidents always happen around you. They also happen around your daughter. And Gussie’s been wailing for a century around the Paxtons. You can’t blame me for that.”

  “Yet, what a coincidence. You come here for vintage clothes and end up taking care of our ghost . . .

  You want to tell me what’s really going on?”

  “It’s . . . complicated.”

  “I’m listening.” King sat beside her, took her hand, and rubbed his thumb over the Celtic ring. “I usually say ‘it’s complicated’ to a woman looking for a commitment. It’s called evasion. So, you want to tell me why my ghost shuts up when you show up, plus you’re wearing a ring my grandfather described as one Nicodemus brought home from one of his seafaring jaunts?”

  More than anything, Harmony wanted to lay her head on King’s shoulder and hear him say he believed in her. She was glad he’d picked her out of the clone line. “I’m sure there are thousands of rings like this in the world.”

  King kissed the back of her hand. “I’m waiting.”

  “Okay. I found the ring in the hem of a gown I bought at a yard sale. When I put it on, I saw this castle in my mind, so I came here, and that’s the truth. I think the gown and ring belonged to someone who lived here.”

  “Maybe the other half of the ring was in the sleeve?”

  “Stop baiting me and tell me what you know about the ring.”

  “I like baiting you. When you get mad, your shoulders go back so your breasts pop out and call my name.”

  “Always thinking with your man brain.”

  “So what if you pictured this place? Why did you come?”

  “When I put the ring on, I saw the castle in discord, and I fainted. I know you’re gonna think this is nuts, but I saw coming here as a psychic mandate from the universe, as if there was something here that only I could fix. Though everyone in Salem knew the place was haunted by a witch . . . except you . . . I came the following day.”

  King touched her brow with the back of his hand. “I don’t like that you fainted. Are you okay?”

  “The darkness sucked me in. I’m fine . . . Tell me about the ring.”

  He played with her ring. “Nicodemus brought Gu
ssie gifts when he came home from the sea. When he brought the ring, she’d peeked, and expected it, but he didn’t give it to her. She was never the same.”

  Harmony sighed. “Which is why she wants vindication.”

  “Vindication? That has all kinds of meanings, and how do you know that’s what she wants?”

  “She told me . . .” Harmony read King’s blatant disbelief. “I was wondering what she wanted, and the word came to me, as if she said it, with her icy breath on my neck.”

  King sat straighter. “Is she the reason for the sudden freezes around here?”

  Harmony nodded. “You get cold when she shows, because she’s stealing your energy and body heat.

  You felt her long before I got here, didn’t you? Admit it.”

  “Hell,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I felt her when I was a kid, but nothing bad happened.

  As a matter of fact, I had some close calls. I almost drowned once, and I’d swear someone colder than the sea brought me to the surface.”

  “Like she saved Jake today. When did your accidents start?”

  “After college.”

  “When you were a man like Nicodemus. Gussie likes children but not men.”

  “Or young women,” King observed.

  “Because a young woman likely got the other half of the ring.”

  King sat back in his chair. “That actually makes sense.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I wonder whose half you have.” He lifted her hand and placed it against his face.

  “Don’t try making up now.” Harmony reclaimed her hand. “I have the half that belonged to Lisette, the girl he gave it to.”

  “Lisette? You know that because . . . you sensed it?”

  “Wearing the gown, Lisette’s name came to me, and I envisioned her sewing something in the hem. I checked and found the ring.” Harmony thought about that for a minute. “Maybe Lisette sent me here. If Gussie was upset with her, those empty picture frames might have held pictures of Lisette. I need to tell my sisters. I’ll be in the parlor.”

  Her sisters were watching Aiden clean the wall. “Is he using a toothbrush?” Harmony asked.

  Destiny shook her head. “It’s smaller than a toothbrush.” She crossed her arms. “He says he’s an artist.”

  “Will somebody, please , get this artist a scrub brush?” Storm called from beside him.

  Destiny and Harmony looked at each other and grinned.

  “I see something!” Storm said. “Harm, Des, come here.”

  “Aren’t you standing in the artist’s light?” Destiny asked her.

  “No,” Aiden said. “She’s fine. You know, I think this is a mural.”

  “No kidding, Rembrandt.” Storm tried to spike his hair, but Aiden didn’t seem to mind.

  Harmony touched the colors on the clean bottom corner. “What makes you think it’s a mural and not a regular painting?”

  “The paint strokes I’ve uncovered so far are pretty damned big. Might take up the whole wall, which means you may as well go to bed. “I’ll be at this all night.”

  Storm finger-wiped a spot on his cheek. “I’ll stay up and help.”

  “She stays,” Destiny said, “and the wall won’t be what gets done.”

  “Bitch!” Storm snapped, and Aiden chuckled.

  Destiny shook her head. “I’m off to bed. Coming, Sis?”

  Harmony turned to go, but King leaned against a door-jamb, arms crossed, an aura of male need about him. His long frame was invested with tension, his square chin high, the light in his whiskey eyes hot, hungry, and provocative. “I’ll be up later,” she said.

  Storm hooted, and Destiny shook her head. “Sisters!”

  As Harmony closed in on King, he unfolded like a lazy panther sighting prey. She cupped his cheek, and he placed his hand over hers and slid it to the back of his neck as he brought their lips together.

  “Ahem! You’re not alone,” Storm called.

  “Train shed?” Harmony whispered low and throaty. “Chugga chugga.”

  “We’re being spontaneous, now, right?”

  “King, if you announce spontaneity, it’s boring.”

  “Hey, no woman has ever called me boring.”

  “You had sex with women in comas.”

  “You’ve cured me. Or ruined me.”

  She took him by the hand. A few minutes later, they were about to cut through the toy room. “Hold on, McBullseye.”

  “I know. My ass is throbbing.”

  “Just your ass? How disappointing.”

  “Don’t give me any sass.” He led the way to the train shed. “The toy room didn’t seem bad tonight.”

  “Duh. Because we cleansed it today. It’s full of positive energy now. Witches are good for something.”

  “I can think of several delightful things.”

  The brightly lit train shed housed an amazingly well-preserved steam engine, its wheels as tall as her. The engine and parlor car capped a hill, each car balanced on opposing downward slopes, its track curved

  like a horseshoe that ran beneath giant doors at each end. “This is ingenious,” Harmony said.

  “You think the train’s amazing, wait till I get going!” He climbed on the engine and rang the bell. “It was a dark and stormy night,” he whispered as he pulled her up and into his arms.

  “The storm does lend our clandestine meeting a certain panache, but I’m still mad at you. I did not set Gussie loose.”

  “I apologize. I’m spooked after what happened to Reggie.”

  “You’re a good dad.”

  “Sure am, for a whole day and a half now.”

  “Let’s leave the guilt and regrets behind. Show me the parlor car.”

  “Not before you take a tour of the engine.”

  “This is not the engine I’m interested in.”

  “How many people can say they got laid in a Boston & Lowell steam engine?”

  “Well,” Harmony said, raising his shirt, “when you put it that way . . .” She kissed the line of hair from his navel to his zipper.

  “Come here, Hellcat.” King pulled her face up to his.

  “Open your mouth and show me a witch’s passion to match a devil’s desire.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  HARMONY gave the devil a run for his arousal, her every nerve ending near the surface. He turned her to liquid with nothing but the tremor beneath his fingertips. They drank from each other’s lips, hungry, greedy.

  King traced the shape of her breasts beneath her shirt, above her bra, then he moved his hands for a slow, tantalizing ramble down her belly, and lower still, until he knelt and slid both hands up her legs beneath her skirt.

  Harmony closed her eyes. “Yes, there,” she whispered, and she shuddered at his touch.

  He stood, insinuating his leg between hers, pulled her against his heavy arousal, and she rode it, nothing between them but his zipper, her skirt, and a roaring of heat.

  He pulled off her shirt and unhooked her tangerine bra. Her chilled breasts pebbled and ached as he kissed his way to a taut peak, nudging her charm bag aside. He took a nipple into his mouth, and pleasure radiated through her like sun rays on a summer day. She anticipated milking his cock the way he milked her lips, and she welcomed his greed with a spiraling of pleasure.

  King raised his head to study her, his sex-drugged expression going from surprise to caution. “Lust,” he said. “This is lust, right?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Against the engine controls, he undid her skirt so a pillow of orange silk pooled at her feet. The air chilled the dampness on her panties as he knelt and shocked her by kissing that very spot. Her panties were gone in a blink, and King unfolded her to his gaze, tasting, licking, then working her with his tongue until she begged him to stop and begged for more.

  He held her so she wouldn’t fall when she came, and did it again. The man had
a tongue that deserved an attendance award. He suckled and licked her until she flew from her body and met the moon.

  When she thought she might pass out, he slid up her bikinis, hooked her bra, got her down from the engine, and carried her to the parlor car.

  She came out of her sexual haze when she saw that the dimly lit car had a bedroom with a four-poster dressed in bronze fringe and silk.

  “Before you say a word. It’s a new mattress with the works.”

  “You set me up? You seducer, you. You purchased that mattress with wicked intent.”

  “And aren’t you deliriously happy about it?”

  She rested her head against his chest and toyed with his breast pocket. “Why did I think I was seducing you?”

  “On the outside, you were. On the inside . . .” He shrugged. “Wait till your skin touches those silk

  sheets.”

  “How long have you been playing me?”

  “Playing? Or playing?”

  Harmony gave up the fight. She’d been reading his mind and playing to his fantasies, so she guessed they were even. “Never mind the sheets. Wait till my skin touches yours.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I’m more than willing to give a skin-to-skin experiment the old scientific try.”

  “Do you like the danger of getting caught?”

  “No. I hated getting caught in the cavern. No, Sunshine. It’s the bod. Yours. There isn’t another that gets me so hot.” He set her down on the bed.

  She jumped up. “Excuse me, but there are two bods exactly like mine.”

  King’s head came up, alert, assessing, his brow furrowed. “I must be talking about the heart inside. Go figure. Never thought I’d recognize one.”

  “Wha’d’ya know? The man’s got taste.”

  He winked. “Let me taste some more.”

  “Not yet,” she said, evading his grasp, spooked by his addiction to her three-of-a-kind body. “Let’s make it last. Let me play you a song.”

  “Music isn’t what I’m in the mood for.”

  Wearing only the tangerine bra and bikinis, she sat on the piano bench to play and sing “King of the Road.” She felt pretty much in control until King sat behind her and trapped her between his legs.