Witch's Bounty (The Witch Chronicles)

by Ann Gimpel

  “I didn’t feel anything when we walked over here,” Roz said. “And I did check.”

  “You probably wouldn’t have,” Naomi said. “They left as soon as Mathilde’s remains caught fire, and we added incense and sacred herbs.”

  “Maybe the demons are gone for now, but they’re not really gone,” Bubba said sadly.

  Duncan blew out a tense breath. Not only were the demons not gone, but they felt more intrusive than ever.

  Chapter Eighteen

  They’d teleported to Fairbanks so she, Jenna, and Roz could pack a few things for themselves and Bubba. There hadn’t been time to stop in Haines and pick up their Subaru. Colleen hoped to hell the ferry authorities wouldn’t tow it before one of them had a chance to retrieve it. They’d boarded a jet in Anchorage that took them back to Seattle. From there, they’d caught an over-the-pole flight for London. Duncan had told them it would have been closer to his home if they’d been able to land in Glasgow, but that would have meant flying across the U.S. to one of the eastern seaboard cities, and then catching an additional flight, which would have taken longer.

  Since she’d done very little in the way of international travel, she let him make all the arrangements, trusting he knew what he was doing. It actually felt really, really good to be taken care of. She’d expended so much effort holding men at arm’s length, she was surprised how quickly Duncan wormed his way around her barriers. It felt as if they’d been together for years, not just a scant span of days. He felt solid and warm and comfortable, and she didn’t think she’d ever get enough of his nakedness pressed against her, filling her until her world shattered into streaming bits of ecstasy.

  Colleen dozed on and off through much of the plane ride. Duncan had bought first class seats and they were plush and comfortable. Fortunately, Bubba slept too. When he was awake, he wanted to stroll up and down the aisles, striking up conversations with strangers. The changeling’s glamour was amazingly effective. He appeared about seventeen, with attractive, longish black hair, dark eyes, and a broad-shouldered, lanky build. In jeans, T-shirt, and a sweater, he looked like prime daughter-date material. Colleen smiled to herself. It had taken Duncan a few passes before he was satisfied with Bubba’s glamour. She could see its edges, but they’d be invisible to mortal eyes.

  One of the stewardesses announced they’d be landing in London in about thirty minutes. Colleen stretched her arms over her head, and rotated her shoulder blades. Duncan placed a hand on her leg. “Did you get some decent sleep?”

  “Uh-huh.” She glanced about for Bubba, relieved when she saw him across the aisle, seated next to Jenna.

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on him. Here.” He handed her a bottle of mineral water. “The air in these jets really dries you out. Have a drink.”

  “What happens once we land?”

  “After we clear customs, a car should be waiting for us.”

  She grinned. “Were you a travel agent in another life?”

  He grinned back. “You have no idea.”

  She leaned against him. Despite teleporting them to Alaska and being in terminals or on planes for the last twenty hours, give or take, he looked amazingly fresh. “Did you get any rest?”

  “I’m fine. I can get most of what I need with catnaps. One eye open and all that.”

  “I’m trying not to feel too safe and comfortable around you, but you’re making it damned difficult.”

  “Colleen, my sweet.” He turned her face so she had to look at him. “I want you to be safe and comfortable and pampered. My goal in life—”

  “Ssht.” She waved him to silence and felt a blush spread upward from the open neck of her stretchy top. “People will hear you.”

  “Not a problem, dearie.” The woman in the next row leaned forward. “I’m hoping Charles here,” she jabbed a portly man sitting next to her, “will get some ideas. He’s a dear, sweet fellow, but romance is scarcely his strong point.”

  Duncan closed his mouth over hers in a brief, sweet kiss that promised much more. He leaned back, looking satisfied, and murmured. “Got to set a good example.”

  Colleen laughed. “I shouldn’t encourage you. You’re incorrigible as it is.”

  The plane touched down uneventfully. Duncan went through one customs line, the rest of them another with their U.S. passports. Colleen breathed a sigh of relief when the agent stamped Bubba’s and told them to enjoy their stay in the U.K. Though the Witches’ Northwest Coven forger had seemed extremely competent, and Bubba’s passport looked just like a real one, Colleen hadn’t been certain there wasn’t some electronic way to determine his was a fake.

  Duncan herded them through the terminal to the spot designated for private ground transportation. A shiny, silver Rolls SUV waited, complete with a uniformed driver who bowed. “Welcome home, Lord Regis.” He held the back door open. “Don’t give your bags another thought, ladies. I’ll stow them in the boot.” Dressed in a black suit jacket, black pants, and a monogrammed jacket, presumably carrying the Regis coat of arms, the driver’s longish tawny hair was drawn into a queue. Like Duncan, he was classically handsome, with defined cheekbones and a strong chin.

  Bubba strode to the chauffeur and fingered the insignia on his breast pocket. His eyes widened. The chauffeur shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I can see you too,” he murmured. “Be a good man and get into the car so we can leave.”

  “Can I sit in front with you?”

  “Of course.” The man’s eyes twinkled. Colleen realized with a start that they were silver.

  She sent a tendril of magic snaking outward to take a closer look. Sure enough, the driver was Sidhe. He winked at her and made shooing motions with both hands. Once they were settled, the chauffeur took his place behind the right hand drive steering wheel and ferried the luxury car out of the airport.

  “Quite a show, Tristan.” Duncan clapped a hand on the driver’s shoulder. “Good job.”

  The other Sidhe shrugged. “What’s life without a spot of playacting here and then. You’re cutting things a bit close. The meeting at Ronin’s is tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Best we could do,” Duncan said. “Let me introduce everyone. The stalwart fellow sharing the front seat with you is Niall Eoghan, but the witches call him Bubba.”

  Tristan glanced at the changeling. “Irish?”

  Bubba drew himself up. “What else? You cut the balls out from under my Scottish kin.”

  Tristan winced. “So we did. Sorry. I think that’s been rectified.”

  “What? When?” Bubba’s voice rang with excitement.

  “In the third seat,” Duncan went on smoothly before Bubba could ask any more questions, “are Jenna Neil and Roxanne Lantry, better known as Roz.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Tristan made eye contact via the rearview mirror.

  “Next to me,” Duncan went on, “is Colleen Kelly, my fiancée.”

  A shocked look bloomed on Tristan’s face. He exchanged it for neutrality, but not before Colleen noticed. “You’ve discussed this with Titania—or Oberon?” Tristan asked.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Duncan’s tone didn’t invite further questions.

  “Damn it!” Colleen shook her head. Distress soured her stomach. “I told you this was going to cause problems for you—a whole bunch of them.”

  “It’s not that,” Tristan cut in. “I was just startled and it’s rare that anything surprises me.” Horns blared and he returned his attention to the dense London traffic, after narrowly avoiding being sideswiped. “Actually, I think it’s excellent news. I’m chuffed, truly pleased, for both of you.”

  Colleen narrowed her eyes. “The two of you seem like close buddies. How are the rest of the Sidhe going to feel?”

  “What difference does it make?” Duncan tried to wrap an arm around her, but she shook him off.

  “The difference it makes is you have a life here. You want me to share it, but if your kin take the same stand as Titania, we won’t have much in the way of friend
s.”

  “So? Means fewer visitors.” Roz chuckled lewdly. “You’d just have to get out of bed to answer the door.”

  “I have it.” Jenna snapped her fingers and elbowed Roz. “You and I can hang out here, snag ourselves some Sidhe studs, and then it won’t seem so unusual. If there were three witch-Sidhe couples, the stuffed shirts would have to accept us.”

  Tristan snickered. He seemed to be trying to control it, but in moments he was laughing so hard, he wiped tears from his face. His silvery gaze flickered in the rearview mirror. “I’m guessing if I asked you to supper, Miss Jenna, you wouldn’t turn me down.”

  “Ooooh.” Jenna leaned forward. “Better watch it, Bubba. I’ll displace you from that front seat so I can paw at Tristan.”

  He snorted. “You can paw at me all you want later. I adore female attention. Right now, we need to talk about tomorrow, while we’re alone.”

  “What do you know?” Duncan asked. Colleen felt tension radiating from him. She could relate, since her anxiety was reaching critical mass too.

  “Not much. The others suspect that you and I talk, so I’ve had to be sly about gathering information. From what I’ve been able to glean, the majority are ready to resume their demon stalking duties.”

  “Not without us,” Colleen snapped.

  “Yes,” Roz seconded. “We’ll welcome assistance, but we’re not willing to totally step aside.”

  “That will probably work,” Tristan said thoughtfully, “given how ambivalent some of my kinsmen are.”

  “What about my kin?” Bubba spoke up. “You said something earlier about recti— Uh, something or other.”

  “The consensus is we did changelings a disservice.”

  Bubba bounced against his seatbelt. “You’ll free them and return their power?”

  Tristan smiled. He was just as beautiful as Duncan, but in a more robust way, with his ruddy skin tones and tawny hair. “We already have.”

  Bubba screeched and pounded the dashboard with a fist. “Stop the car. Let me out.”

  Duncan angled his body forward and placed his hands on the changeling’s shoulders. He flicked a bit of magic and the glamour dissipated. “You can do all the running about and high-fiving you want, once we get closer to the northlands. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone to celebrate with this far south.”

  Colleen leaned forward and ruffled the changeling’s hair. His joy was contagious. “Happy for you, Bubs. Would you like to spend some time here celebrating?”

  He twisted in his seat and met her gaze. “Are you offering to undo the binding?”

  Well, am I? Colleen nodded. Her throat thickened. She loved the changeling, but part of loving someone was not being selfish. The changeling drew his brows together. “Do you want to get rid of me now that you have Duncan?”

  “Oh no, sweetie! I just want you to be happy is all. You’re a big part of my life and I’d miss you terribly.”

  Duncan nodded. “Before Colleen accepted me, she made certain I’d welcome you as part of our family.”

  “Really?” Bubba glanced from one of them to the other. For the first time, he looked like the ancient creature he was.

  “Really.” Duncan squeezed the changeling’s shoulders.

  “You’re telling the truth. I can tell.” Bubba set his mouth in a determined line and reached over the seatback for Colleen; she took his hand. “I want to spend a little bit of time with my kinfolk, but I wish to maintain our bond. Can’t let you fight Irichna without me.”

  Colleen wove her way between Duncan’s arms and hugged Bubba. “Thank you. I didn’t want you to go away, but I would never hold you against your will.”

  The changeling quirked a brow. “One tiny thing?”

  “Certainly.” Duncan nodded.

  “I never figured out why the witches started calling me Bubba, but I want everyone to use my real name. Bubba sounds like a cat.”

  “Which is exactly how you ended up with it,” Roz said.

  “There must be cats named Niall somewhere.” He moved away from the jungle of Colleen and Duncan’s arms and stared at Roz.

  “I’m sure there are.” The witch blew him a kiss. “We’ll do our best to remember, but after forty years, it may take a bit of time before we’re all on line with your real name, every single time.”

  “I can wait,” he said solemnly. “So long as you’re trying.”

  •●•

  Duncan and Tristan guided the three witches and the changeling, into Ronin’s mansion the following afternoon, nodding to various Sidhe and making introductions as they moved from the lushly-manicured grounds to inside the imposing home.

  “Now remember.” Colleen focused her mind voice just for Duncan. “No introducing me as your fiancée.”

  “But I’m proud of you,” he replied out loud.

  “You promised.” She tapped his chest with an index finger.

  “What I promised was to not say anything until after the meeting was over.”

  “It would be better if you didn’t say anything at all.” Rather than agreeing like she hoped he would, Duncan just looked at her, an enigmatic expression on his face.

  “Wow!” Roz craned her neck from side to side. “Here I thought Duncan’s place was grand. This looks like a castle.”

  A corner of Duncan’s mouth twisted downward. “Once upon a time, it was, but so was my manor house. The English countryside never suffered for lack of castles. Let’s sit there.” He pointed to a row of elegantly padded chairs in an enormous room paneled with dark wainscoting and hung with cut crystal chandeliers. Liveried servants flitted about offering champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres.

  Jenna slid into a seat. “I didn’t get a chance to ask last night—”

  “Because you were so busy chatting with Tristan,” Roz noted snidely.

  “You’re just jealous,” Jenna sniped back.

  “Damn straight I am.” Roz snorted. “Nothing like being surrounded by the sounds of people fucking when you’re by yourself.”

  “You didn’t have to listen. Besides, we weren’t fucking, or even kissing. Keep your mind out of the gutter.” Jenna tried for a superior look, but failed. The corners of her mouth twitched.

  “Witches have sharp ears,” Roz said and sat next to Colleen.

  “Yes, especially when they augment their hearing with magic.” Jenna glanced sidelong at the other witch, clearly pleased she was gaining the upper hand, albeit slowly.

  “Keep your eyes open, Roz,” Duncan said. He looked as if he was struggling to suppress a smile. “You may find an eligible bachelor or two in the group.”

  “How long have you lived in your house?” Jenna asked. “It was what I tried to ask before Roz interrupted.”

  “Since the fifteen hundreds. Of course I’ve had it modernized. Several times, actually.”

  Fifteen hundreds! Breath whooshed out of Colleen’s lungs. It was easy to forget just how old Duncan was. Beyond an overarching impression that he lived in a museum, she hadn’t really had time to explore any of the rambling multi-story mansion beyond his bedroom.

  “So,” Jenna pressed on, “all those paintings and sculptures and knickknacks that look antique—”

  “—were new when I bought them,” he finished for her.

  “My home is just outside Richmond.” Tristan smiled at Jenna and took the chair next to her. “It’s not as grand as Duncan’s or Ronin’s, but we Sidhe do like our creature comforts.”

  Jenna leaned into him. “I’m sure you do. Sheesh, I was comparing all this elegance to our place in Fairbanks…” She rolled her eyes and let her words trail off.

  Tristan started to say something, but Duncan shushed him.

  Ronin strode to the front of the room. With his iridescent robes flowing around him and shiny dark hair, he cut a fine figure. “Thank you all for coming.” His melodious voice reached every corner of the vast room. Colleen figured he’d boosted it with magic. “Special thanks to our guests.” He bowed toward the witches
and changeling. Colleen inclined her head; so did Jenna and Roz, but Niall simply glowered.

  Ronin cleared his throat. “We have had many productive meetings this past week.” He shot Duncan a glance, but Colleen couldn’t interpret it. “All our elders but for Lord Regis were in attendance. He was absent because his task was to bring the witches here. Let me address things one at a time. We returned sovereignty to the changelings two days ago, and have pledged our assistance until their magic is fully restored.”

  “About time,” Niall muttered sotto voce.

  “Hush,” Duncan whispered. “That’s as close to an apology as you’re likely to get.”

  Ronin glanced their way, but didn’t comment. He extended his arms. “Would the witches be so kind as to step forward?”

  It was more command than question. Colleen rose. So did Jenna and Roz. Together, they walked to the front of the room and stood before Ronin, waiting. Colleen considered bowing, but didn’t. She didn’t want to appear subservient in any way.

  Ronin dropped his arms to his sides; his probing, blue gaze roved from one witch to the next. “We may have made an error in tasking you with the Irichna. We stand ready to resume our duties in that regard.”

  Colleen exchanged glances with Roz and Jenna. She squared her shoulders and looked Ronin right in the eye. “We’ve discussed it. While we are extremely grateful for your offer, the demons are stronger than ever.”

  “We are willing to share the responsibility.” Roz put her hands on her hips. She too, focused her dark gaze on the Sidhe. He stared back. Something electric passed between them. Colleen readied magic, just in case things got out of hand.

  “Yes,” Jenna cut in. “Share it, not give it up entirely.”

  Ronin’s mouth softened from its customary stern line, which might mean the Sidhe leader was pleased. Perhaps this was the outcome he’d hoped for. “I believe we can accommodate your request. We will need a bit of your blood, however.”