by Ashlyn Chase
“We need Laurie Cabot.”
* * * *
Gwyneth had called Laurie Cabot, the powerful Salem witch, and was granted a personal consultation. Thank the Goddess, Sly’s confrontation with his maker had happened several days after Samhain and Laurie had time to see her. She’d head to the bus station early the next day, but meanwhile she and Morgaine had to do a locator spell to find Sly’s maker. Later they’d devise a way to get rid of the slippery bastard—for good.
“It will have to be during the day so we’ll have the advantage,” Morgaine said.
“I can do the astral projection thing y’all taught me to get inside and figure out what his lair is like afore we go bustin’ in.”
“That’s a good idea. But, first we have to find it. Hopefully he’s there now and I’ll astral project tomorrow when he won’t see me.”
“It’s a good thing y’all can travel by astral projection. Otherwise you’d never see nothin’ but the apartments and hallways of this here buildin’ due to that agra… angora… well, hell. That thing what makes y’all afraid of going outside.”
Morgaine didn’t want to respond to that. “I’ll grab my map and compass.”
“I have mine right here…”
“No, I’ll need to cleanse the tools after we expose them to evil energy. It’s better if we use mine.”
“How do y’all know he’s evil?”
“Well, he sounds like a psychopath at the very least—the way he didn’t care if Sly’s wife and baby died. That’s evil enough for me.”
“Yeah. Now that you mention it…”
Gwyneth waited for Morgaine to gather the items for the locator spell and followed her down to Sly’s apartment.
“Sly said he knocked on his door,” Morgaine thought out loud. “So right outside his apartment we should find the largest concentration of the evil vampire’s energy.”
“Better warn Sly that we’re out here. Y’all don’t want to spook him. For all we know, he’s got a loaded shotgun full of silver buckshot on the other side of that door.”
Morgaine chuckled. “I doubt it.”
“I would.”
“Okay, okay. You’re probably right that we should tell him what we’re up to—just to be considerate.” She knocked on Sly’s door.
When he didn’t open it right away, Gwyneth called out, “It’s just little ol’ us, Sly. No big baddies out here.”
He opened the door and glanced around them up and down the hall. “Sorry, girls. I just had to be sure he hadn’t compelled you.”
“We understand,” Morgaine said. “We’d like to do a locator spell to know where your maker’s lair is. We need to do it here in the hallway in front of your door—while his energy is fresh.”
Sly frowned. “I hate calling him my maker. I hate calling him ‘my’ anything, but we don’t even know his name.”
“We could call him Asshole,” Morgaine said.
That made Sly laugh.
“And pretty soon,” Gwyneth added, “A-hole won’t be able to get into the building, don’t you fret. Sorry, but I don’t like to swear—except when doin’ phone sex. Tomorrow I’m headed off to Witch City—Salem, Mass. I’ll find out what to do there.”
Sly sighed. “Thanks. I appreciate any help you can give me.”
Morgaine turned to Gwyneth and said, “We may be able to do more.”
Sounding hopeful, Sly asked, “Like what?”
“I’ll tell you what we discussed after this.”
“Great. Mind if I watch my two favorite witches in action? Or is that against some kind of Wiccan rules?”
Gwyneth smiled. “It ain’t agin’ no rules I know of.”
“It’s fine if you watch, but…” Morgaine spread out the Boston street map. “Stay inside your apartment. I don’t want to confuse your energy with his. Especially since I may have to call him ‘the vampire’ and the divine ones can be very literal.”
“Sure. Of course.” Sly took a step back but left his door open and stood there, riveted to the scene.
The women sat cross-legged on the cold floor on either side of the map. Morgaine placed the compass on their present location. As expected, it pointed due north.
They closed their eyes and held hands. Then took three deep breaths.
Together, they chanted, “God and Goddess, hear our plea. This intention bound shall be to cause no harm nor turn on me. As by your will, so mote it be.”
Then Morgaine spoke alone. “Please use these tools to help us locate the source of evil energy that stood here tonight. We come here with pure hearts and a singular purpose. To protect ourselves, our neighbors, and especially our friend, Sylvestro Flores.”
They let their eyes drift open and watched as the arrow on the tiny compass twitched at first. Finally, it moved slowly but with purpose in a singular direction. It stopped, pointing southeast.
Sly let out a whistle. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.”
Morgaine held up one hand to let him know they weren’t finished. She slowly moved the compass toward the southeast. She stopped street by street until the arrow began to move again. She slowed her forward progress until the arrow spun.
“Gotcha!” Gwyneth clapped her hands.
Morgaine looked closer. “It’s between Clarendon and Dartmouth Streets. I’d say it’s close to the corner of Commonwealth and Clarendon. What’s over there?”
Sly cocked his head. “A residential neighborhood, like this one. It’s only a few blocks away. Haven’t you explored your own neighborhood in the city?”
“Uh, I—uh, don’t get out much,” she said, her cheeks heating. As she rose from the floor, she deduced that he didn’t know about her agoraphobia. “Thanks for your help, Gwyneth.” She reached down and helped her cousin up. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Gwyneth waved away the compliment. “T’weren’t nuthin’.”
“It’s nice to see you two getting along again,” Sly said. “I heard you arguing the other night. I know you turned up the radio so I couldn’t hear what it was about. It was none of my business, after all.”
Gwyneth folded her arms. “I wish everyone would mind their own beeswax.”
Morgaine squinted at her. “Don’t start.”
Sly cleared his throat. “Um, would you mind coming in? I think I need to tell you something.”
Chapter 6
Gwyneth breezed into Sly’s apartment, but Morgaine remained in the hall.
Sly wondered if she was hesitating because she was worried about what he had to say. “Aren’t you coming, Morgaine?”
“I-it’s awfully dark in there. Would you mind turning on the lights?”
“I’m afraid I never hooked up the electricity.”
Gwyneth sighed. “Morgaine’s afraid of the dark. Have you ever heard such a silly thing? A witch afraid of the dark?”
Morgaine folded her arms and glared in Gwyneth’s general direction.
“Oh, come on. He might as well know since his place is always dark.”
When Morgaine didn’t respond, Gwyneth continued, “I can bring some candles down.”
She let out a deep breath. “I can get some. And it isn’t silly. It’s an actual condition called nyctophobia.”
“No need to leave,” Sly said. “I have candles here. I’ll be right back.”
While he was in the kitchen, he overheard Morgaine say, “Did you have to tell him I’m afraid of the dark? Couldn’t you have said it’s harder for us to see in a dark apartment than it is for him?”
Gwyneth whispered, “Y’all are bein’ silly. It’s Sly, after all. Not someone y’all have to impress. In fact, y’all might as well tell him about your agga… agriv… whatever that condition is called. The reason why I came up North to help y’all in the first place.”
Morgaine whispered, “Agoraphobia. And, no thank you. I’d rather not tell anyone if I don’t have to.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake. What are y’all gonna do if I�
��m not around and y’all need something from the store?”
“Wait until you get back.”
Gwyneth let out a big sigh. “I do declare. Y’all are helpless as a Yankee at a grits-eatin’ contest without me. Either get over this, or find someone else to help. I won’t be here forever.”
Sly returned to the living room with a couple of jar candles Roz had left for him. She’d said they weren’t allowed to burn candles at the school, even in the resident apartments, but he suspected that was a ruse. The thought was appreciated and, as it turned out, handy as well.
The witches settled on the couch once illumination was flickering around the room. Sly placed the candles in the empty fireplace. “I hope you don’t mind cinnamon scent.”
Gwyneth smiled slyly. “We don’t mind at all. Cinnamon inspires lust. Did y’all know that?”
Morgaine elbowed her.
Sly leaned against the mantel. “Well, that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Gwyneth’s eyes popped. “A three-way?”
Sly almost burst out laughing. Said with the innocence of a phone-sex actress. “No. Actually, I thought before anyone got the wrong idea, I should explain why I’m not interested in a sexual relationship right now.”
Gwyneth’s face fell. “Y’all don’t want a three-way? Y’all must be the only man on the planet who don’t.”
Morgaine leaned over and covered her face. “Where’s a black hole when you need one,” she mumbled.
Sly figured he’d better jump right into his explanation. “Gwyneth, Morgaine, you’re both beautiful women, and any man would be lucky to have you—separately or, uh, together, but I’m afraid I just wouldn’t feel right about that.”
“Why? Because you’re still hung up on your wife? She’s been dead for about a zillion years,” Gwyneth protested.
“Twenty-six. It’s not that. I don’t want to come between you two. I’d like to date one of you, but I’d hate to hurt the other’s feelings. There’s one thing I know about women—none of them want to feel like second best.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Gwyneth said. “So, which one of us are y’all choosin’?”
“Morgaine and I seem to have more of a connection, Gwyneth. I don’t want to insult you, but I think she and I might really hit it off.” Was he imagining it, or did Morgaine’s eyes widen as if she were shocked?
Gwyneth rose. “Well, I won’t be botherin’ y’all anymore, Sly. I know when I’m beatin’ a dead horse… so to speak.”
Morgaine bolted upright. “Gwyneth, you’ll still help Sly by going to Salem, right? I mean, he’s still our friend—even if he doesn’t want to have a romantic relationship.”
“Of course. What do y’all take me for? I ain’t someone who turns her back on a friend.” She turned her pert little nose up. “I’ll even help him set up and run the still, just like I promised.”
Morgaine visibly relaxed. “Good.”
“Well, Sly. I guess I’ll mosey on. Y’all let me know if…”
Morgaine sent her a head shake.
“What? I was just gonna say—”
“I know what you were going to say.”
Gwyneth threw her hands in the air and walked out muttering something about how folks have the right to change their minds.
Morgaine moved toward the door but stopped before she got there. “Did you mean what you said about me, or were you just saying that to discourage any more advances?”
Sly strolled over to her and took her hand. “I absolutely meant it.”
She smiled shyly and then glanced up the stairs. “I’m sorry about my cousin. I don’t know if she has the maturity to understand completely. I’ll explain that it wasn’t personal.”
“Can you stay for a few minutes?”
“Sure.”
Sly closed his door and led her back to his couch. “I don’t have much to offer in the way of refreshment, but I do have that champagne Merry gave me. Would you like some?”
“I thought you didn’t have a corkscrew.”
He chuckled. “Champagne doesn’t need a corkscrew. I was just making a joke. I didn’t really want to open it then.”
“But you do now?”
He tipped his head and shrugged. “Why not? Unless you don’t want it since it’s not chilled. No electricity means no refrigeration.”
She hesitated a moment, then mirrored his gesture and said, “No, I don’t mind. Sure. Why not?”
She waited on his couch while he strolled to the kitchen. He watched her stare into the candle flames as if in deep concentration.
This witch fascinated him. He could read the other one like a book. A book with two pages, including an index that referred every item to page one. Not that she’s shallow or anything…
Morgaine was far more complex and raised questions he would love answered. Prying wasn’t in his nature though.
He grabbed a couple of glasses and set them on the counter. Then he pulled the champagne out of the fridge and ripped off the foil paper to open the bottle. When the cork popped, Morgaine jumped.
“Are you okay, Morgaine?”
She chuckled. “Yeah. I just forgot about the pop when opening the champagne. I should have been ready for it.”
Jeez, she has quite a startle reflex. Sly strolled over with the glasses and the open champagne bottle. “Are you nervous?”
“No. I was just… far away. Sometimes looking into flickering flames puts me right into a trance.”
“I see.” He poured a glass and handed it to her. “Is it all right if I sit next to you?”
“Of course, silly. You and I have sat next to each other before.” She took a big sip of champagne.
In a few moments, she appeared relaxed and comfortable again. Good.
“Do you ever see things in the flames?” he asked.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I’ve heard it’s one way psychics scry. Is that the right word… scry?”
She grinned. “Yes. I’m surprised you knew that.” Another long sip of champagne, and her posture relaxed some more.
He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m full of surprises. I spent many evenings at the Boston Public Library reading anything and everything that caught my interest.” Setting down his wine glass, he rubbed his hands together, hoping the friction would take the chill off.
He took her hand in his. “I have a confession to make.”
She sat up a little straighter. “Confession? I’m a priestess, not a priest. We don’t generally hear confessions.”
He laughed. “Not that kind of confession.”
“Oh.” She looked slightly embarrassed.
Her blush sent shivers straight to his loins, as had her earlier smile.
“Morgaine, I asked you to hang back because I’d like to get to know you better.”
Her brows knit. “In what way? We’ve known each other a long time.”
“I might be undead, but I’m not—dead. Know what I mean?”
She shook her head slowly. “No, I don’t follow.”
He rubbed her hand gently with his thumb. “I’ve noticed you in a whole new way recently. And it isn’t because of the makeover. Well, maybe softening the hard edges opened up the idea of…” He struggled for the right words. Why, oh why, hadn’t he rehearsed this speech?
“What is it, Sly? What have you noticed?”
“You’re a caring, nurturing person. You’re the one who thought of room-darkening shades for me. And even before that, you took such good care of me when I hurt my fang. You didn’t even tease me about my lisp until I was feeling better.”
She dropped her head and blushed.
“Put it this way, I miss being married, and I think the right woman might be able to ease the loneliness.”
She lifted her head and stared at him. “Are you coming on to me?”
He chuckled. “What I’m saying is that, for some reason I can’t explain, I’m attracted to you. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and y
et you confuse me. Well, that’s not exactly right.”
“My, I feel so flattered,” she said, deadpan.
“Sorry. What I mean is, I’ve always liked you, but recently I’ve liked you more…”
“More than what? A kick in the head?”
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t blame you. I’m making a mess of this.”
“Would you mind if I tried something to clean up the mess? It might help.”
“Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“Hold both of my hands and let me read you.”
“You’re not talking about mind reading, are you?”
She chuckled. “I wish. That would make things a whole lot easier. No, I’m just talking about gleaning whatever I can psychically. My mind forms pictures. Then maybe you can fill in the blanks.”
He nodded. “What do I need to do?”
“Just hold both my hands and face me.”
Sly adjusted his position on the couch and grasped both her hands. She did the same.
“Now lean forward until our foreheads are almost touching, and close your eyes.”
He followed her directions. “Am I supposed to be thinking of something? Or should I try to empty my mind, like in meditation?”
“Just let it wander,” she said softly. “Relax and let your mind go wherever it wants to.” Her voice was almost hypnotic.
Despite hoping it wouldn’t, his mind went straight to his cock. He pictured himself and Morgaine lying next to each other, facing each other, on the rug before the fire. Her long, blonde hair splayed out behind her, and then the romantic scene in his mind’s eye rolled into an intimate embrace, a long kiss… tenderness, that’s it.
That’s what he felt for her. Tenderness. It wasn’t exactly love, but more than like—a step between, perhaps.
His eyes drifted open. Hers were still closed, but she was smiling. Sly let go of one of her hands and cupped her jaw. The thought of compelling her to kiss him flitted across his mind. But no. He wanted her to want to. What good was it otherwise?
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Is everything all right?” Her lips remained slightly parted.