The Sorceress Screams

by Anya Breton

  Her circulatory system appeared in my mind’s eye. I asked Healing to show me the foreign antibodies. None glimmered. I released the breath I’d been holding.

  “You’re clean, Jacqueline.” I opened my eyes and met hers. “You’re all clean.”

  “Lord, preserve me! Thank you. Thank you, Kora.”

  I nodded while releasing the Healing link to her. Her suitcases were already near the door so I lifted one. I waited for her by the door.

  “He’s a good man.” Her attention was fixed on the wall—the wall her room shared with Veronika’s.

  Did she mean Desmond?

  I didn’t want to know if he was a good man or not. I liked the opinion I’d formed of him as a self-serving dictator.

  Jacqueline’s eyebrows lifted in challenge.

  I exhaled a weary breath. “He did a good thing by helping you.”

  “Yes,” she said with firm emphasis. “He did.” Piece said, she took hold of her other suitcase and led the way out of the room.

  Desmond appeared at the end of the corridor with empty hands. Irritation creased his forehead perhaps because he’d noted the remaining luggage in front of Veronika’s door. Caesars’s Palace must have shipped her things because plenty were left. The blonde’s head popped around the corner. She reached an arm out, crooking her finger at him. Desmond glanced around her to us, flushing pink.

  “Dessy,” the young woman said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  He said nothing as he reached her. Dodging her grabby hand, he lifted up the final three bags, shoving the two smaller beneath his armpits. Veronika hitched her hand onto her hip. Then she spotted us. Her pink-coated lips formed a moue. With a huff much like Desmond would make, she retreated into the room and let the door slam shut behind her.

  “I’ll be right out,” Desmond said for our benefit. He set two of the bags down so he could lift the keys from his pocket. “Here are the keys.”

  He threw them at me rather than Jacqueline. I barely released the suitcase in time to catch them. The warm metal of one of the keys dug into my palm where it had hit. I bit my lip to keep from making noise.

  Why had he picked me? Jacqueline had the smaller rolling suitcase with the long handle.

  He watched us rather than move. Was he waiting for us to go before dealing with Veronika?

  I clenched the keys, gave him a swift nod in understanding, and then strode down the corridor with Jacqueline trailing close behind.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I’ll take care of it. You should go sit in the car.”

  Desmond’s mutter startled the divine out of me. I’d been studying the most efficient way to fit the luggage into his trunk. He’d appeared from the hotel exit far quicker than I’d anticipated.

  Veronika burst from the hotel in a fit of pique. A pair of cosmetic bags hung from her thin arms.

  “You’re making a big mistake, Desmond,” she said as soon as we were within earshot.

  He took my forearm rather than reply. I shot him a confused look but didn’t fight his push toward the front of the car. Desmond unlocked the passenger door, gesturing that I should get in.

  I shook my head, arguing in a volume the others wouldn’t hear. “I was going to sit with Jacqueline.” The Dark witch was already comfortably ensconced in his back seat. I’d been counting on joining her.

  That same pleading droop entered his eyes. “Please.”

  I glanced ahead to where the trim blonde tapped her pricey suede pump. She wore a deep purple summer dress with a wide bodice that barely covered her assets. Her pale hair was perfectly straight, framing a classically beautiful face set in a pout. The expression should have been unattractive but added to her appearance. I would never look as good as she did even if I’d altered the pigment of my hair to match and let it all grow out.

  My gaze switched to Desmond. His drooping expression had remained.

  He didn’t want her in the front seat? He was an idiot. I shrugged and got in the car anyway. Later I’d tell him he’d just used up one of his favors.

  The Water priest let out a relieved sigh despite the outraged chirp across the parking lot. Veronika stomped forward, hissing something the BMW’s door muffled. He ignored her and returned to the trunk for the magic trick of fitting all of her crap inside.

  Veronika complained and snapped while Desmond ignored her. She shut up minutes later when he shoved two of the medium sized bags at her and loudly said, “There’s no room for these. Hold them on your lap or leave them behind.” He strode around the car to the tune of her indignant stammering.

  Neither Jacqueline nor I said a word when he slipped into the vehicle with us. The blonde struggled into the backseat with her bags. She made whimpering complaints every other second but eventually got the door closed with everything securely inside.

  Desmond immediately put the car in drive. “Put on your safety belt.”

  Mine was already on, so I assumed he’d meant it for Veronika’s benefit. It was kind of decent that he cared about her safety despite his clear irritation.

  “I don’t need the police to stop us because you’re without.”

  His proclamation wiped away any warm feeling I’d had. I twisted so I could look out the passenger window without seeing him in my peripheral vision.

  Fifteen minutes of Veronika’s peeved noises later we pulled into a restaurant I’d have passed over for being too pricey. Rather than being shown to the main dining room, the hostess took us to a private room toward the back of the establishment. That’s when I grew as peeved as Veronika sounded.

  Desmond was still unwilling to be seen in public with me. Even though it was at his insistence I join them in Flagstaff this morning and even though he’d taken responsibility for me in front of the coalition, the dick refused to give anyone the opportunity to spot him with me. I excused myself to the ladies room so I could steam in the privacy of one of the stalls.

  When I finally forced myself back to the private room, the witches had drinks and impatient expressions. Even Jacqueline’s twisted lips implied she was put out I’d made them wait so long to order.

  My irritation was such that I was no longer hungry. Without looking at the menu, I asked for toast and then I twisted in the chair so I could avoid my companions.

  Veronika’s pique kept her mute apart from frequent miffed chirps. Desmond let out martyred sighs almost as often as she had. Only Jacqueline and I were silent while we waited for our food. The uncomfortable lack of conversation continued through to Desmond paying the check.

  I stuck close by Jacqueline on the way to the car. And then despite the luggage taking up space in the back seat, I slipped in beside her simply to avoid Desmond.

  Veronika’s eyes lit up in unearned triumph. I didn’t care that she’d be comfortable in the front while I battled her luggage. It was better than sitting beside Desmond Marino.

  ****

  Furious. That’s what I was. Desmond had neglected to tell me the airport the ladies had booked was in Phoenix. A two and a half hour drive in the back of his BMW cramped between Veronika’s shoe bags was not how I’d wanted to spend my day off. I stared daggers at the back of his head when I wasn’t silently willing him to break the speed limit. He had a BMW for Zeus’s sake. It could go faster!

  Several times Veronika attempted to start an argument. Desmond didn’t bite. I tried not to think about how he always seemed ready to fight with me. But I couldn’t help it. Obviously he found me so distasteful he thought nothing of jabbing at me. Sleek, fashionable Veronika, on the other hand, deserved to be handled with kid gloves.

  Rather than drop the women at the front door, Desmond parked the car and went in search of a luggage trolley for Veronika’s ridiculous number of suitcases. Jacqueline and I decided not to wait for them. I carried Jacqueline’s larger suitcase to the terminal because I’d gotten to it first. We stopped for coffee after we’d checked her in at the ticket counter because there was no sign of the Water witches. No doubt they were fig
hting at the car.

  Desmond appeared out the window in the distance, pushing a luggage cart. Veronika tugged on his arm. His shoulders shook in frustration. And then Desmond finally snapped.

  He pivoted on his leather loafers, palms grasping the young woman’s forearms before she’d recognized the danger. Only their profiles were visible from our vantage point. Veronika gazed up at him, mouth quivering as she pled. Desmond’s glare had tightened each feature. His lips relaxed to speak several words. She responded with a quick, eager plea she punctuated by rising up onto the tips of her toes. Her face was inches from his—a kissing distance.

  His lips clearly formed the word “no”. A second later he added a string of words. He turned his back on her, stalking into the terminal with the luggage trolley. Veronika stared after him, face set in a dismal expression. What had he said to earn that response?

  We gave them a few minutes to find the ticket counter so we could finish our coffees. I reluctantly followed Jacqueline to them. Desmond stood near the bank of windows lining the front of the space. His arms clasped behind his back in a formidable pose that echoed the thinned set of his lips. Veronika stood near the counter with her head held high.

  The priest’s attention snapped to us, softening slightly when he spotted Jacqueline beside me. I was forced to join him because she had. We waited in silence until Veronika made her way through the crowd with only a purse and one of her make-up bags on her arm.

  Our quartet started for the security checkpoint. We slowed at the line’s end. Jacqueline offered me her hand. I gave her my warmest of smiles as I took it. Her small fingers squeezed mine tightly.

  “Thank you, Kora. You will be in my prayers,” she said in her soft way.

  A few covens prayed much as ordinary organized religions did. I’d also heard her exclaim to the Christian God. Maybe she really would pray for me.

  I nodded for her all the same. “Be safe, Jacqueline.” Hera, watch over her.

  She withdrew her hand, pushing it into her purse. When it emerged it held a small white card. “Here’s my phone number. You call me anytime you need something from … someone like me.”

  I gave her a genuine smile. “You already have my number. You do the same. Okay?”

  Jacqueline made a move to step away then thought better of it. She tossed a single arm over my shoulder, tugging me close so she could whisper. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, weird ass white girl.”

  A startled laugh escaped me. She hurried away before anyone saw the moisture glistening in her dark eyes. I drew in a steadying breath to keep from getting emotional. I hadn’t spent long enough with her to miss her, but sometimes emotion like that was contagious even without an empathic link.

  I cleared my throat and then noticed Desmond watching. My attention switched to Veronika. Predictably she stared at him. The longing set of her features made her look vulnerable. I hoped to Kore Desmond hadn’t taken advantage of her infatuation only to break her heart. She was annoying, but no one deserved that.

  “You should thank Ms. Walsh,” he said sharply.

  Veronika shot us a mutinous look. Her cheeks colored a moment later.

  “Thank you.” Veronika’s eyes held mine with the first sincere expression I’d seen on her to date. “Really. I’d still be in Vegas, wrapped around that asshole’s finger if it weren’t for you. If there’s anything my family or I can do for you, just contact us.”

  She didn’t hand me a business card so I wasn’t sure how I’d accomplish that, but I nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

  The blonde pushed her blue gaze back onto Desmond. “Last chance,” she said with a breathy delivery.

  He shook his head once. Desmond started away without looking back.

  Veronika hissed under her breath. “Asshole. Gorgeous, pompous asshole.”

  That about summed it up.

  ****

  “Veronika acted like I ought to know who she was,” I said after ten minutes of strained silence in Desmond’s car.

  Without other passengers, I’d had no excuse to sit in the back seat. I was stuck feet from him within reaching distance. His pink cheeks had faded. I no longer had the urge to question him as to the reason behind them.

  Desmond glanced in my direction.

  “She said to contact her if her family could help, but I don’t even know her surname,” I said.

  “Fontaine.”

  Of course he’d have learned her surname. She’d been living with him for the past week, probably sleeping in his bed. And the heartless dick had sent her away.

  “Her aunt is one of the regional high priestesses of Neptune’s Fellowship,” he said. “She comes from a long line of powerful witches.”

  All the better to make little Desmond Marinos. So why had he sent her away? Unless he’d successfully impregnated her and was making her family deal with the aftermath? It wasn’t uncommon for the males of their race to wash their hands of children. My disgust with him was renewed.

  “I didn’t sleep with her.”

  I lifted my eyes in surprise at his sudden admission. “I didn’t say anything.” But then I felt it. I snapped the empathic link back at him and snarled. “Don’t do that!”

  “It’s second nature.” His innocent tone wasn’t fooling anyone.

  “Bullshit it is! You don’t do it all the time therefore it can’t be.”

  “Her dramatics today were because she knew she’d lost her chance to win me over.”

  “You’re clearly gay,” I said under my breath.

  Desmond inhaled one of his irritated huffs through his nose. “Because I refuse to take advantage of a damsel in distress, I must be homosexual?”

  He was dodging the topic again. “No, you’re homosexual because she’s a hot little blonde with perfect hair and fabulous fashion sense who is from a pure bloodline and you didn’t impregnate her.”

  “Neptune’s Fellowship doesn’t hold to the old ways.”

  “How could it when their high priest is gay?”

  “I’m. Not. Gay.”

  The vehement punctuation of each word startled me as much as the fact he’d finally given me a straight answer.

  “Were you asleep when I tried to kiss you, Ms. Walsh?”

  My breath stalled. I’d thought he’d want to forget that had happened. Yet here he was reminding me of it.

  When I failed to reply his voice went sour. “Or just drunk?”

  I’d been fully awake and painfully sober when Desmond had brought my fingers so close to his lips that there could be no question what he’d meant to do to them. But I wouldn’t admit that to him.

  “After the help I’ve extended to you, I think you owe me the truth,” he said coolly. “Why did you leave that night?”

  “A family emergency came up.” It was the same answer I’d given him before—the truth, this time spoken in a wooden voice.

  “Before that,” he said without looking at me. “Why did you jump away from me?”

  This was the first time he’d asked this particular question. How would I evade him this time?

  Desmond faced me when I didn’t immediately respond. “Consider one of your favors cashed in if you answer me with the truth.”

  “The song,” I whispered.

  His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What song?”

  “Etta James.” I croaked. “‘Sunday Kind of Love’, I…”

  I folded myself as far into the corner as I could because I was suddenly cold. The truth to cancel out one of the many favors I owed him seemed reasonable. So I gave Desmond nearly the entire truth. “Someone I knew long ago kissed me for the first time while that song played. He’s taunted me for years with it. I freaked when I heard it in your kitchen because I thought maybe, as insane as it sounds, he was there taunting me.”

  It wasn’t insane because Trip could Voidwalk to any place in the world and hide in the Spirit Realm. And he now had a bracelet that let him alter things in the Mortal Realm though he himse
lf couldn’t cross over. But I couldn’t explain that to Desmond.

  He returned his attention to the road where it should have been. “I thought it was because you hate me.”

  Maybe it was the reminder of what I’d read on his phone that night about him “sexing” me for the crystal, but I heard myself mumble an answer. “It should have been.”

  Desmond stiffened, having heard me. And that was how he remained for the entire two-hour drive back to Wipuk.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  With a few hours to spare before the holiday festivities, I had plenty of time to take a long shower and do a load of laundry. I even did the dishes that had accumulated over the past week. The mindless domestic chores gave me too much time to think.

  Had I made a large misstep by telling Desmond the truth? Why had he asked about that night in the first place? He disliked me as much as I disliked him. He’d only been using me to get at the crystal, and now he wanted me to be his mole. Strangely he’d yet to utilize my new access to learn Max’s secrets. The Nadir Khan issue must have taken precedence. Sooner or later Desmond would call in his other favors.

  The question had probably come from his need to soothe his ego. Women chatted him up, they got grabby with him, and they pleaded with him. They didn’t freak out when he touched their hands. But then I wasn’t a normal woman. I’d grown up in the Underworld.

  Knowing I’d probably be outside in the heat for several hours, I dressed in a short black cotton skirt and orange silk tank top, choosing a pair of my black retro dot thigh highs to wear beneath it. Yes, I looked like a walking Halloween advertisement, but at least I’d be comfortable. I’d stepped into my mary-janes when the knock sounded at the door.

  Ali Mac’s dark hair and reflective glasses were visible in the peephole. His pick-up truck had pulled in behind Desmond’s BMW earlier in the parking lot, proving the dark truck I’d spotted several times today had indeed belonged to the werewolf. Should I be angry or relieved Max was having his lackey guard me even in Phoenix? I backtracked to my purse and then opened the door for him.