by Shyla Colt
“I am. I’ve been on this case since Marcellus was accused of attacking and killing a young woman in Velvet. I proved at the time he was being framed and showed evidence of a witch tampering. Let the record show, Everard, Just, and Zephirin, and Luz, and Cristobal were witnesses to this. At that time, I assured them I would get to the bottom of this problem.”
“Why did you not bring it to the attention of the council then?” Vale asks. He’s a Sphinx, impossible to read.
“I didn’t have enough information, and I knew a witch able to compel a vampire had to be using some strong magic. I needed to know what I was dealing with and how high up the chain the witch was.”
“Fair enough,” Vale replies.
Zephirin sniffs. “Seems convenient.”
“I don’t call going to Witching Swamp or the Black Well convenient or pleasant for that matter.”
“And what did you find in these places?” Roch inquires.
“That the witch in question was a female who’d made a deal with a powerful entity. The entity told me the witch was hiding in plain sight. That I knew her, which made me that much warier.”
The council members exchange glances.
“Tell us about this so-called cave,” Mémé demands.
“The witch issued a threat to me. She pulled me into the in-between to taunt me. I brought something that belonged to her out and tracked her to her spell place. It reeked of dark magic, blood spells. It also showed signs of multiple magic users.”
The murmurs begin between them.
“And you didn’t think we should know that?” Zephirin asks.
“With all due respect, this occurred less than seven hours ago. I’m running on two hours of sleep, and I’m depleted from the spell work. I brought my team in on the case last night. We did a reversal spell, hoping to draw her out. She was more imbalanced than any of us imagined.” My voice shakes. Guilt eats at my stomach like a corrosive acid. “That was my fault, and I’ll have to live with what happened.”
“How do we know this cavern exists?” Mémé asks.
“We returned this morning with the intention of documentation, but found the place magically cleansed.” I kneel. “I can submit my memories if it pleases the council.”
“Come forward,” Mémé says.
I stand and walk toward them with my head high.
“Kneel,” Roch instructs.
I comply as I take a shaky breath.
“This may hurt a little,”Mémé warns.
I close my eyes as cool fingers burrow inside of my brain like worms. I inhale and exhale, forcing myself to relax and let them in. I think of events I want them to know only, keeping everything else blank. It’s an invasion of the worst kind, having someone else inside of your head, rooting through your memories, turning them over and examining them like a specimen under a microscope.
My stomach rolls. I swallow down bile and dig my fingernails into the soft flesh of my palms to keep the scream forming inside. Closing my eyes, I grit my teeth. They recede, and I fall back onto my heels, breathing hard.
“We need time to speak among ourselves.” Mémé stands.
I nod and struggle to my feet. I stumble out of the room like a drunk. The others rise from the couch.
I shake my head. “They’re discussing it.” I sink onto the couch beside Cristobal, close enough for our bodies to brush. The living room is silent as we wait. The door swings open.
“You may return,” Meadow calls softly.
I walk in and swallow hard as they all stand, ready to issue their ruling.
“It seems to be as you say. Though we’ll speak with Felicites and Sacha as well. It appears we are both tasked with apprehending these perpetrators to keep the peace. The council will handle the cleanup of the incident at the club. We want you to continue your investigation with a greater sense of … urgency,” Vale says.
“Yes, sir.”
“They may be convinced your story is authentic, but I’m not. I’ll be watching you, Witch For Hire, and Cortez,” Zephirin says.
“I would expect no less, Mr. Dupeux,” I reply, careful to keep my eyes blank as I add just enough attitude into my words to make him bristle.
“You may go. Send Cristobal in please.” Heloise dismisses me with the regal bearing of a modern day Cleopatra.
I bow and back out, feeling like I escaped a firing squad. One down. One to go.
“They want to talk to you, Cristobal.”
He stands and smooths the lapels of his suit.
“How did it go?” Luz asks.
“Good. They want us to apprehend the new vamps and find the witch, but they take responsibility for the witches’ part in creating the problem and controlling the collateral damage.”
“We’ll avoid war,” Percival says.
‘This time’ lingers in the air unsaid but understood.
“If they wanted to cause division. Why make this move?”
“Greed? Overconfidence? Perhaps they think they can take us both on.” I shrug. “Maybe they want a new world order starting with the end of the council. They wouldn’t be the first to try to overthrow them.”
“We aren’t the only ones with power problems,” Luz mummers.
“There’s always someone who thinks they can rule better or feels cheated by the way their life turns out. Few are bold enough to act on it. It makes the witch hard to profile. We could be looking for someone with nothing to lose, or someone cocky and privileged and overbearing. It could be none of those. A martyr type who’s convinced they’re doing this for the greater good. People are complicated. We lie to ourselves until we believe the truths we create.”
“Not so different than the rest of us,” Marcellus says.
I offer him a small smile. “I guess not.”
An hour later, the council walks out with Cristobal.
“I’ll see them out,” I offer as I move over to Mémé.
“You seem comfortable here,” Meadow observes.
“I think it’s time we build stronger bridges, and I have a history with them. There’s no use pretending I don’t.”
“Hmmm.” Roch strokes his chin. “There are worse friends to have.”
I can’t help but smile at him.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Zephirin replies.
I mentally roll my eyes and ignore him. “Thank you for coming. It was an honor to host you. I will keep abreast of any new developments that occur.”
“If we don’t catch them before the equinox they’ll be even more powerful,” Mémé states.
“We know we’re working under a deadline.”
“I’ll clear your shifts at the shop. You need to focus everything you got on this, girl.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So polite. It’s good to have you back,” Vale says.
“Thank you, Mr. Blanchard. It’s good to be back. I’m excited to make a change.”
I see them to their cars and wave as they drive away.
“I can’t believe we pulled that off.” I jump at Ruby’s voice beside me.
“Me either.”
“Must be luck on our side.” Ruby nudges me with her elbow. Her grin is infectious. I can’t help but smile.
“Let’s hope it stays this way because we need to figure out who’s doing this and time is running out.”
“What are you going to do next?” Ada asks.
“Make her feel the pain she’s inflicted on others. It’s the least we can do for the victims.”
“Another reversal spell then?” Ada whispers.
I worry my lower lip wondering how much to say. “Ada … you know a lot about witchcraft.”
“It’s something I was very familiar with during my lifetime,” Ada admits.
My eyes widen—it’s the most she’s ever said
about her life pre-vampirism. “I thought maybe that was true.”
She smirks. “Because Cristobal is from the Rasputin linage, I got to keep just a bit of my own magic. I think you’ve sensed it, but not been able to put your finger on it.”
“That’s it exactly.”
“Witches know witches.”
“Look at us girls bonding,” Ruby coos.
“Only took murder and a witch inquisition,” I say with mock cheerfulness. Laughter spills free as we walk back inside. We need to regroup and get back on the case.
***
The building reeks with the residue of violence. Emotions thicken the air inside the building like a noxious gas. Pain, fear, and anger swirl together, hanging heavy like rain-filled clouds. The tang of blood and bodily fluids turns my stomach. I fight the urge to cover my nose. How can they stand it? Marcellus and Luz lead us inside.
“It hasn’t been cleaned yet. We had to let the investigators do their work,” Luz explains.
“Does it have to be the actual spot. Because it was pretty bad,” Marcellus says.
“No, anywhere inside the building will be fine.”
“Okay.” He brings us into the plush office. Dark grey walls with built in shelves lined with binders and interesting sculptures. The curved desk is made of dark wood, and the leather office chair has a pillowed design. The luxury design is ruined by the dark energy flooding the space.
I flinch. The souls are restless, confused, and angry. They want revenge.
“You can sense them, too, can’t you?” Fel asks. Her head swivels from left to right as if she’s tracking an invisible being.
“Yes. Do you see them?” I lean in toward her.
“No, but this feeling It’s awful.” Sacha rubs her arms. Her face scrunches up as if she’s in pain.
“We’re trying to help you guys.” I speak to the room.“Can you see them?” Luz asks me.I shake my head. “No, thank God. I just sense them.”
“We cleared off the desk for you. Will it be enough space.?” Luz hovers at the edge of the desk.
I wave her away, eager to get started.“This is plenty.”
“Okay, we’re going to hang out, and give you guys space.” Marcellus holds up his hands.
Sacha tilts her head to the side. “They want to talk to us.” “Yeah, but do we want to talk to them?” Fel scoffs.“It’s going to be graphic, guys. It’s fresh,” I caution.
“We’d want someone to do the same thing for us,” Sacha points out.
“You’re right.” I nod. “Okay,” I take a deep breath, “We hear you. We understand you’re angry, and we want to help you not only be avenged but find peace. If there’s anything you want to say or show us, we’re listening.”
The response is instantaneous. My eyes water as pain explodes in my head and my neck. I can see the blood splatter against the walls and here the screams. The phantom feeling of fangs ripping at flesh makes me sway on my feet. I clench my stomach and stumble, grabbing the desk to stay upright. There are too many of them. It’s a slaughter.
“Holy shit,” Sacha whispers.
“She’s been busy,” I growl.
“We have to stop her before she does this to anyone else.”
“This spell will put her out of commission, at least for a while.” The spirits rejoice. They want to help us. We cast a circle, and hold hands.
What was done to them
Shall be done to thee
Feel their pain now by three
As we will it so shall it be
The spirits join in, lending their voices and their energy to the spell. Items rattle on the wall, and the door opens and closes. Our bodies are conduits as we channel for them. Our feet come off the ground. Hovering in the air, we raise our hands. Our voices grow shrill. We jerk when it releases from our chest, seeking it’s intended. I gasp as the spirits send us gratitude.
“Go now where you belong. We’ll see her put to justice. You don’t belong here in this place,” Fel whispers.
I feel the joy and relief as they begin to pass over. Somewhere I know the spell is hitting it’s intended target. We drift slowly to the ground.
“Umm … Wow,” Sacha whispers.
“I know,” I say, energized.
“They gave us energy as thanks for what we did,” Fel whispers.
“I think you’re right. Just feel. They’re gone on.” The air is lighter. The ominous feel has gone. It’s no longer a home for ghosts. It’s a building where a tragedy recently occurred. We close out the circle and sit, shaken. Exhaling, I stand. “Let’s smudge. I don’t want anything to come in or be held hostage by what’s happened.”
We pick up the bundles of white sage, light them, and blow the smoke in every nook and cranny, envisioning white light, healing. An hour later we make it back where we started.
“It feels different in here now.” Smiling, Sacha runs her hands over her curls, attempting to work smooth them.
“Lighter,” Fel agrees, a light in her brown eyes that wasn’t there before.
“I think we did exactly what we were supposed to do,” I whisper. I had forgotten the amazing things a group of witches can accomplish when they work together for a cause. Bringing them into this has changed everything. There’s strength in numbers.
“Guys, I think we’re ready to go.”
Seconds later Luz and Marcellus appear, making the girls jump. They chuckle.
“Sorry.” Smiling, Luz shrugs, barely disturbing her off the shoulder black shirt.
“You’ll get used to it,” I promise.
“I don’t know if that comforts me or not,” Sacha mumbles.
Marcellus barks a rusty laugh. My eyes widen. Who knew he could express joy.
He clears his throat.“We should get you ladies back to the house.”
As we leave the building behind I’m filled with determination. This cannot happen again. The horrific screams will stay with me for as long as I live. I can’t afford to have another set on my conscious. She won this battle with an ambush, but I aim to win the war.
Chapter Sixteen
Four cups of French press and I still feel like a zombie. I rub the grit out of my eyes. There’s been no sign of the witch, and everyone’s on edge. I’ve been scouring my Grimoire to find anything that might help and researching the property the B&B sits on.
“You should get some rest.” Cristobal kisses my temple.
I allow myself a moment to lean against him at the kitchen island.“I’ll rest when all this is over,” I mumble.
Cristobal wraps his arms around me, and I lean back into his chest. I have a king-sized memory foam I paid a small fortune for, but I rest best these days when we’re sharing a bed. This situation is letting me get used to things that freak me out. We’re working through our issues, but at the moment we’re running on fumes. It’s been one thing after another since I arrived. It’s no way to rekindle a relationship marred by mistrust and forced will. I inhale his scent. It doesn’t mean I care for him any less. The younger me would’ve thrown herself into this head first, heart on her sleeve. I’ve learned a lot since those days.
“What do you have planned today?”
“I like the way you pretend you’re not a stalker who knows my schedule already.”
“With all that’s going on, I felt it wise to know where you’ll be and when.”
“Don’t get your fangs in a twist. It’s kind of adorable, old man.” I tilt my head back and grin as he scowls.
“Darling, don’t tell me our age difference bothers you.” I place a hand over my heart. “I’m a modern woman. What’re a few centuries between significant others?”
He lunges forward, capturing my lips. My laughter turns to moans. Gripping my hips, he lifts me onto the kitchen counter, and I part my legs, letting him walk between my thighs. I toy with the soft
hair at his nape. He’s more stimulating than the caffeine I guzzled. I hook my ankles, squeezing his waist playfully, and he pulls me to the edge, as close as we can get.
For a moment I allow myself to get lost in the slickness of his mouth and the skillful ministrations of his tongue. My head is swimming. Time slows, and only the man in front of me exists. He feeds me energy and support, and I suck it up like the greedy girl I’ve become when running with my tank on E. A throat clears. I moan as we part.
“You do realize we serve food off there, right?” Marcellus’s deadpans.
The wide grin makes me roll my eyes. I clear my throat. “I need to get going, anyway.”
“I wonder how much you value your head some days,” Cristobal mutters.
I giggle. “Don’t be so grumpy. Maybe you need a nap.”
“If you want to play the age card, I suppose you’re not too old to take over my knee. Maybe you’d like to demonstrate right here, dove.”
I clamp my mouth shut. He’d do it, and I’d like it. Marcellus doesn’t need to know that. He’s lucky the self-assured smirk lining his lips is so damn sexy.
“As much as I’d love to see which of you boys wins this stare down, I got work to do.” Cristobal helps me down, and I kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
I grab my purse and indulge the gentleman inside of him. As much as we gel, we can be like oil and water. I’m used to doing everything on my own, and he wants to hand me the world on a platter, so I don’t have to lift a finger. The past couple of months have been a careful balancing act. We’ve both learned when to give and how much to take. There were times when I wanted to stake him, but it proved to be well worth the work invested.
No one could ever love me the way this man does. Maybe that was my problem. Falling for a supernatural being and then trying to find a mere mortal who could fit the bill.
“Be safe.”
“You too.” I slip into the car before I melt into a puddle outside the house. The man literally makes my knees weak. I focus my attention on starting the car and drive away, filling my head with the task ahead. Rose Cottage Bed and Breakfast had a lot of potential candidates—from the drove of people who died from an outbreak of Yellow Fever to the young girl who was murdered. Boarding homes had so many people in and out it was impossible to pin down all the energies left behind. Unexpected deaths, murders, and people who just felt most at home could all be causes for a spirit to linger.