by Coralie Moss
“Let’s get that bottle of wine and get out of here. I’m starting to get the teeniest bit creeped out.”
Outside, I used the garden hose to wash a thick layer of grime off the bottle. Christoph presented me with the corkscrew and handed around the glasses. I popped the cork, poured a sip into my glass, and held the liquid up to the waning light. Shades of plum purple, cherry red and whisky barrel brown. I sampled the liqueur.
“I don’t know what Aunt Noémi added to her plum brandy, but this tastes very special,” I said, walking from one person to the next and filling each delicate glass two-thirds full.
As I finished speaking of my aunt, I finished with, “A toast, then, to Noémi Virginie du Sang.” I spoke my aunt’s complete name for the first time in memory and every syllable resonated within my bones, from my bare feet up to the crown of my skull.
Du Sang. Of the blood.
I refrained from smacking my forehead.
Noemi Virginie du Sang.
Genevieve Valentina du Sang.
Calliope Viridis du Sang. Where the hell did I get the name Jones?
“Jones is such a common surname, at least along the Eastern seaboard, Calliope, we thought it would protect you and your mother’s identities when you moved west.” Christoph’s voice, booming in my ear, sent my head spinning. Literally, spinning, as I looked left and right and left again at the concerned faces around me. I tossed back the sweetly delicious alcoholic drink, and plunked my butt on the quilt.
“When were you going to tell me you knew my real name?” I asked.
“Now?”
“Mom, Mom,” said Thatcher, “wait a sec.” He sipped at his serving of liqueur, threaded the fingers of his free hand through his hair, squeezed, then patted at the air. “If your last name is really du Sang, and Dad’s last name is Flechette, then technically Harp and I could be called ‘Blades of Blood’. Dude, that is so cool.”
“Mm, technically flechettes du sang is more like ‘blood darts’,” said Malvyn. “I make them, and if you’re interested I could show you what they look like and how they are used.” My face must have registered more than shock, because Mal quickly amended his offer with, “But first you need training.”
“Mal!” James smacked his husband’s forearm. “These are children were talking about.”
“Some of these children have seen a lot of bad things,” said Sallie, rocking forward onto her knees and coming to stand. She stepped toward where Mal and James were sitting. The two men tensed. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“What is it, Sallie?”
“Could you make one of those for me?” she asked, touching a fingertip to Malvyn’s collar. “Make me something beautiful and unique that will help me find my magic, my good magic?”
Mal took Sallie’s hand in both of his and stared at her. I think we all could feel his power rising; we could certainly see his eyes changing color, from brown to a fiery orange. “I will do this for you. But first, I would like for you to do something for yourself. Go away this weekend with Harper, Leilani, and Thatcher. They are your friends. Go and see what you can discover about your magic and we will meet when you return.”
“Thank you,” Sallie said, her voice a whisper. She glanced at Shamaha, then at Rowan, and Wes. “Can Azzura come, too? And Jasper?”
The trio leaned in and came to a quick and unanimous decision. “Yes,” said Shamaha. “Jasper knows he’s your helper and guide and buddy for as long as you need.”
Wes directed his comment to Azzura. “Would you share your magic with us?”
She stood, dusted off her hands, and tucked her hair behind her ears. Closing her eyes, she hummed. The tops of her ears elongated into the characteristic Fae shape. Her facial features changed slightly; I wasn’t well-versed enough yet to know if there were cues that distinguished one kind of Fae from the other. To me, she looked a lot like Sallie, though I had only seen Sallie’s Fae features when she was distressed; even then, they shifted non-symmetrically.
Azzura bent her arms at the elbows and cupped one hand over the other, slowly lifting the top hand about four inches. She made counterclockwise circles with that hand, clockwise circles with the other, and produced a snowball. Opening her eyes, she spotted Thatcher, grinned, and beaned him in the forehead.
“Ice meets Fire, baby,” she said, and laughed. “And that is the full extent of my magic. I can make snow.” She shrugged and tucked her hands under her armpits. “It would help if someone could show me how to do that without freezing my fingers.”
* * *
Once dinner was cleaned up, and those not sleeping at the house had left, Christoph and I stood at the kitchen island. Leilani had gone home with her fathers; Harper was in his room, talking with Thatch; Sallie and Azzura were at the far end of the backyard, checking out the cabin under construction.
“Can they sleep out there?” I asked.
My grandfather nodded. “We got the plywood up today, and there’s tarp over the roof. No windows or doors yet, but the nights are mild. They’ll be fine.”
I figured the gals could haul whatever sleeping bags and bedding they wanted and have some privacy. They’d have two nights here, then all four of them—plus Leilani, Wes, and Kaz—would leave for the mainland Friday morning for the first weekend of the mentorship program.
“I’m sad Tanner’s missing this weekend,” I said.
“Don’t you have some studying to do?”
“You have no idea.” I planted my elbows on the countertop and held my head. “There’s so much to learn.” Every Sunday since the beginning of August had been dedicated to a four- or five-hour long video tutorial, followed by one or two hours of lab work. Because the course’s format, we watched the week’s instructor working in their home, or garden, or wherever it was they stored their herbs and other ingredients used for potions.
The four Sundays in August had been dedicated to Bloodwork. We were given Labor Day off, which coincided with Aunt Noemi’s passing, and now my calendar told me the autumn equinox was close. September twenty-first, the same day that marked the beginning of the mentoring weekend. I still had not joined a coven, and every witch I knew would likely be busy with their group of thirteen on such an important night.
“Will you be alright here by yourself?” Christoph asked. “I would like to tag along with Wessel and Kazimir. And to be there for Harper, too. Though he might enjoy a weekend without me hovering over him.”
I patted his hand. “I would appreciate you going. Harp seems really happy with his decision, and I trust Wes and Kaz but I can’t imagine what a weekend with Magical teenagers is like, especially with all those hormones.”
“Good.” He smiled. “I was also thinking you might enjoy having the house to yourself for a couple days. Just don’t get too used to it.”
“Oh, I’ll enjoy myself. And I’ll miss you all terribly.” I turned to fill my water glass. “I’m going to say goodnight to everyone and go to bed.”
* * *
The importance of daily rituals and maintaining one’s altar were drilled into me and the other witches-in-training at every session. After I brushed my teeth and finished in the bathroom, I closed my bedroom door and went to my closet. In lieu of a dress, I donned a nightgown made from bamboo T-shirt material. Though clean and soft, it had seen better days. I loved how it felt against my skin when I was completely naked. I lifted the straps off the big hook on the back of the door, stripped off my clothes, and pulled the nightdress over my head.
The day’s clothes landed in the laundry basket and I shut the door on my day.
My altar was next. I lit two candles, one to either side of the oval mirror, the same mirror I imagined my mother and her sister had stood in front of. After snuffing out the match, I went to the window, slid the curtains to the side, and opened the bottom sash. My office had a view of the garden and that entire side of the property; my bedroom faced the woods. When I took a step back, I pictured a narrow set of French doors replacing the windo
w, along the addition of a small, private balcony.
I’d have to ask Christoph if those changes were within his building skills, and I would consult with House first. With the family’s burgeoning guest list, I desired a place where I could retreat, and House had sent a message earlier in the summer that they were loathe to allow any changes to the A-frame’s structure.
I lifted the screen and rested my elbows on the sill. The sky was clear and star-filled; the full moon a few nights away. Lifting my heels and leaning my head and shoulders out, I let my eyes acclimate to the lack of light. Trees came into focus. These woods abutted the property Doug had purchased. I shook my head. I did not need thoughts of my ex in my head tonight. Or any other night.
The giant bat that befriended Harper had returned and brought a friend. The two bats were hanging from the usual tree. I had seen the creature in the air once, circling the yard with another bat during the night of my Blood Ceremony celebration. While some events of that night were seared into my brain, other details were foggy. I hoped the bats would fly again at a time when I could admire their size and beauty.
Taking in and letting out another breath, I was acutely aware of Bear’s absence. The sting radiating across my upper back and the crinkle of the bandage reminded me I had at least one reminder of Bear’s presence. I missed the sensation of fur and the comforting weight of Bear’s presence.
Someone—or some thing—rounded the house to my right. No outdoor lighting on this side of the house left the thin strip of yard draped in shadows. They paused, and turned. Thatcher’s raccoons could have been visiting, as could any number of wild things. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck stayed flush to my skin, my house stayed quiet, and I decided the night-time visitation was nothing to worry about.
Not everything that moved in and out of the shadows was bad.
I withdrew into the room and closed the screen all the way. I drew the window down halfway; I couldn’t sleep in a closed up room. The candles burned, and between the flames and the light reflected by the old mirror, my room was suffused in a golden light. On my altar, my new wand had completely absorbed my old one. The delicate vines it had sprouted to aid in that process had turned to metal, and had inlaid themselves into the shaft. My wand was making itself into a thing of beauty. I lifted it to my lips, kissed it, and placed near my mother’s Witchling Way achievement pins: a seal, an apple, and a bear. The bear made sense. The apple? I could have chosen that one for any number of reasons.
I now knew the seal was my father, Benôit.
My gauntlets and grimoire completed my sacred objects. I placed my palms on the book—my book—of magic, with its many blank pages. I had started to fill in what little I knew of my magic. At Maritza’s prodding, I set aside one section of the grimoire for memories, and one for dreams.
I lifted my gaze to the mirror for a moment, hesitant to look deeper into my reflection. I had been warned repeatedly about witches and mirrors and given the excitement of the summer, I was heeding all warnings.
Except for the little bell set off by the scratching at my bedroom door. I stepped to the side and opened the door a crack, expecting Jasper the furball to let me know he was hungry.
Instead, I got a different kind of beast, with a different kind of hunger.
Chapter 4
“Hey. May I come in?”
Tanner Marechal slipped into my room at my startled invitation. His hair was longer, and unbound. He had nothing on his feet, snug jeans on the bottom half of his body, a dark navy T-shirt, and a ravenous look on his face. He pressed one elegant, tanned finger to his lips and eased the door closed. Not a creak from the floorboards or a squeak from metal on metal as he turned the lock belied his presence.
I started to ask all the questions crowding the tip of my tongue. He pressed that same finger against my lips and walked me toward the bed. We bumped into the short side of my desk, sent the chair spinning, and almost slipped to the floor when my butt missed the mattress. Tanner grabbed the backs of my thighs and drew me up his body until we saw eye to eye.
My druid was leaner and stronger than he was was five weeks ago, as was my desire. I clasped the back of his head. He lowered us both to the bed and used his knees to scoot me back. Laying his chest on top of mine, he tugged at my dress, grabbing handfuls of fabric until I was naked and exposed from the ribs down.
“Arms up,” he whispered. “I need to feel your skin.”
“Hello to you, too,” I said, taking hold of the stretchy fabric and wiggling it over my head. I tossed it toward the closet and wrapped my legs around Tanner’s hips. “And why do you get to keep your clothes on?”
“The hostess has to invite me to get naked.” He planted his elbows near my upper arms and stroked the sides of my jaw with his thumbs. His eyes glowed and his smile gentled. “Any day now, hostess.”
“Tanner, would you please take of your clothes?”
He kissed my cheeks. “Nope,” he murmured.
“What! Don’t they teach you that in druid school?” He laughed into the side of my neck and shook his head. “Goddess, I have to do everything around here,” I said.
I slid both hands between my belly and his, undid the button at the top of his zipper, and very carefully lowered the pull. The man had neglected to add underwear to his ensemble and there was no way I was going to ruin my night.
Zipper down, his face continuing to hover in the vicinity of my neck and face, I moved my hands over the defined sides of his butt and hooked my thumbs over the waist of his jeans. Using one set of toes at a time, I tugged the fabric over the rounded muscles until I could use both feet to push his pants all the way to his ankles.
Tanner kicked the jeans to the floor. I found the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it up his back and over his shoulders and head. Rocking to one side, then the other, he finished stripping himself.
“We managed to work everything out,” he said, settling himself between my legs. My body wanted me to rub myself all over his unblemished skin like a cat marking its territory, but Tanner had me pinned. “Mostly. Ni’eve gave me a three-day leave. I’m due back in France on Saturday night.”
“Are you mine until then?”
“Totally. You can keep me in the house. I’ll be your house boy. Better yet, keep me in here. I’ll be your bed boy.”
I had to ask the only question I wanted answered. “Am I the last woman you were intimate with?”
“You’re the only woman I want to be intimate with,” he said. “And the answer to your question is, yes.”
He grew harder as we whispered back and forth. “Is there anything I should know before I ask you to fuck me?” I asked. “And just so you know, Rowan gave me a clean bill of health and Belle has me on birth control.”
Tanner found my free hand, flattened my palm with his, and interlaced our fingers. He swept our joined arms to the side and over my head, and searched for my other hand. Pinning my wrists, he lifted one hip enough to slide his other hand between our bellies. His fingers found my sex and cupped the entirety of the area.
“The only thing you should know is I’m clean as a whistle, and I cannot get anyone pregnant. Oh, and druids are known for their stamina. I hope you had a good dinner.”
And then we stopped talking. My fantasies of finally—finally—having full-on sex with Tanner involved hours of creative, sweaty foreplay and rolling orgasms.
In reality, we barely moved. We kept our eyes open, watching the other. I could feel myself swelling into his hand, getting wetter, juicier. When he lifted and resettled, the head of his cock was right where I wanted it to be. When warm fingers cupped the side of my neck, I opened my thighs wider and took Tanner in, settling him deep inside me in one extended movement.
With a minimum of fanfare and negotiations, we were fucking. Wordless, where have you been all my life, fucking. I took all my fears and tossed them through the half-opened window. For tonight, and maybe only tonight, Tanner was all mine and I was all his.
He filled me. I molded myself to his shape and held tight. The ground below the house fed me, the beams and walls held me, and whatever spirits haunted the place turned their backs.
“I might be having a religious experience,” I whispered. Dancing along the edge of orgasm chasm, my lover’s length responded to my words. “Come with me.”
Tanner’s mouth hovered above mine. I arched my chest so my breasts could deepen the friction against my nipples and I lifted my head so our mouths could meet.
“Quiet,” I added. “No sound.”
“Shhh,” he said, “shhh.”
Funny thing about mostly-wordless sex; my awareness moved elsewhere, out of my head and downward. When my orgasm began, it was if I had finally mustered the bravery to roll my body to the edge of that chasm and let go into the unknown.
Tanner filled me as I fell. The waves of sensation had me screaming inside, screaming into his mouth, and he swallowed every strangled thing I had to say.
* * *
I covered Tanner’s mouth with my hand, closed my eyes, then spun against the front of his body until he got the message and spooned me. He covered us as best he could, seeing as how I was powerless to move, and I fell asleep, aware of the warmth and weight of his arm holding me against his chest.
We made love again, this time, chest to chest, lying on our sides. Languid in my half-asleep state, I drew my inner thigh against his leg, wrapped my arms around his neck, and clung to my druid as I woke enough to orgasm.
Waking to slanted sunlight and the sounds of bare feet hitting floorboards and coffee brewing, and knowing I didn’t have to go anywhere except down the hall to the bathroom, was wonderful.
The bedroom door opened, and Tanner slipped in, grinning. He had on the navy T-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. Hauling myself up to sitting, I noticed a high-tech backpack on my desk chair. “Does everyone know you’re here?” I asked.