Sharon Karaa - A Familiar Problem (Northern Witches #2)

by Unknown

  "Selina!" Lauren said, shocked but laughing.

  "For your information, I am not having a relationship with either Abaddon or Zerachiel. I’m not a relationship kind of girl, I’m a demon, and I just use and abuse them."

  "You know, if I was gay, I'd definitely do him," Gerwyn’s eyes glazed over as he contemplated Abaddon’s fine form.

  "Do who?" Lauren asked, trying to squeeze the last cocktail out of the pitcher without getting all the fruit.

  "Abaddon, man he's hot!"

  "Aren't you gay?" Selina asked, confused.

  "No honey," Gerwyn laughed. "I'm as straight as an arrow. Well, a very slightly twisted arrow."

  "So do you have a girlfriend?" Agnes asked, the only sober person in the room. Also, the most dangerous person to give that kind of information to. She couldn’t help herself but interfere in other people’s lives.

  Gerwyn sighed. "Unfortunately not. I've been in love with the same woman now for ten years but she won't have anything to do with me.”

  He picked up his glass and downed half of the contents, possibly in an attempt to drown his sorrows or possibly to calm the raging hard on his dress did nothing to hide. I hoped it was for the mysterious woman and not for Abaddon. I averted my eyes and downed my own drink in one. Not that I’m averse to a little man on man action, I am after all, a demon, but the thought of anyone touching Abaddon made me feel strangely sick.

  "Oh? Do tell," Lauren said, lying back against the couch.

  "Doesn't she like that you dress as a woman?" Selina asked. I really would have to take her drink away from her.

  Gerwyn laughed. "Don't pull your punches there, Selina, now will you?"

  "So am I right?"

  "On the nail, darling, unfortunately."

  "You deserve someone who will love you for who you are Ger, don't waste your time," Lauren said, self-satisfied in her blissful state of happiness with the handsome Daniel.

  "Maybe we should take you out and find you a nice woman," Agnes said. "What's your type?" I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist.

  "100 words a minute, what's yours?" Gerwyn replied. Selina snorted mojito out of her nose and I rolled my eyes.

  "Type of women, what's your preference you daft Welsh sod," Agnes shouted, throwing a cushion at her.

  Gerwyn laughed. "I know what you mean you silly old hag, I'm having you on! I don't want to stereotype women by having a type, as you put it! A good hearted woman of any shape or size who lights my fire will do me fine."

  "So long as she doesn't look better than you in stilettos, eh?" Selina burst out laughing, spilling some of her drink down her front.

  "Well, if she had the same size feet, that would be handy. We could share shoes!" Gerwyn lay back against the cushions as Lauren finally gave up and went to make a fresh batch of cocktails.

  "Obviously I would hope she had bigger tits than me as well," she said.

  Selina threw a cushion at her.

  "So you have a type then, big feet and big tits" Selina tittered. I took the glass out of her hand and drained it. Better me than her and much better than the front of her dress.

  "So what's your type then missy?" Gerwyn asked her in response.

  Selina lay back down on the floor and put her hands behind her head, a serious expression on her face as she gave the question some thought.

  "I always go for the bad guys but I'm thinking I need to revise my strategy," she said at last. "What about you, Nat, good guy or bad guy?" she raised her head and looked at me, an evil grin on her face. I groaned and shoved a cushion over my face. Why did it always come down to choices?

  "I don't know," I replied. "But maybe since I can't choose between them, then that just tells me that both of them are the wrong choice. Surely, if I was in love with either of them, there would be no choice.”

  "Hmmm, time will tell," said Agnes, cryptic as always.

  It didn’t occur to me for a second to consider why, as a demon, I didn’t just have both.

  I was lying on the beach and it was the dead of night. A warm breeze blew in across the water as I looked up at a thousand tiny stars twinkling in the sky. The tide came in and washed my ankles in foam as I sat there silently contemplating the beauty around me. It wasn’t grossing me out for a change. And I wasn’t worried about that either. Then I started worrying about why that didn’t worry me. I think I was turning into Agnes.

  "You're getting wet," Abaddon said and I jumped in shock and looked around.

  He was sitting in the sand behind me, leaning back on his hands and observing me. The moonlight cast shadows on his handsome face but his muscular chest and bulging biceps were not to be hidden. He was wearing a white shirt, open at the neck and exposing a slight smattering of hair at the top of his chest. I looked down at his long, muscular thighs and felt a familiar tingle down below. I continued my gaze southwards. His bare feet were covered in tiny flecks of sand and I looked at them in awe. He even had beautiful feet. No one had beautiful feet. There had to be something wrong with the man. I looked up into his face again and sucked in a breath as a wave of lust tore through me. Then I remembered he was a lying scumbag.

  "Why didn't you tell me Zerachiel is your brother?" I asked him.

  He looked out at the ocean and shrugged his shoulders. "It isn't important," he said.

  "And why did you lie to me about his allure?"

  He turned to face me and grinned. "Hey, hot lips, all's fair in love and war, right?" He winked at me.

  I don't know why I was surprised. He is a demon, after all. I turned and looked out at the sea as another wave came in and lapped at my toes.

  The gentle breeze caressed my body and my nipples tightened and peaked as the silky material of my negligee gently scratched across their surface. I looked down. Obviously, Abaddon was responsible for the surroundings and the clothes. Or lack of them. I fought my heightened state of arousal and looked back out at the ocean.

  "Is there anything else you've lied about?" I asked eventually.

  In the blink of an eye he was beside me, his arms around me and pulling my back into his chest. He breathed in my scent and his breath tickled my ear. I didn't respond.

  "I haven't lied to you about anything else, no."

  "I'm trying to redeem my soul," I said and waited for his reaction.

  "You do what you think is best. But don't think for one second I’ll make it easy for you to get rid of me."

  I felt his smile. I’d soon wipe that off his face.

  "What if I told you I was in love with Zerachiel?"

  "You're not."

  I turned to face him. "And just how would you know that?" I asked, angrily.

  "I know everything there is to know about you, Nats. I'm bound to you, remember?"

  I turned away from him and faced the ocean again. "Yeah, well, I'm not in love with you either so stick that in your pipe and smoke it."

  He laughed then pulled me in close, resting his chin on my shoulder. His closeness was killing me slowly as his scent filled my nostrils and the feel of his hands on the bare skin of my arms sent darts of electricity straight to my nether regions. I would not give in to it, not this time.

  "Are you any further forward finding out who is setting you up?" I asked when it didn't appear he intended to respond.

  "That's why I'm here. I found Shevels. We won't get anything useful out of him though."

  "Why?"

  He stroked one finger gently up and down my arm. I thought I would explode.

  "I was hanging him over the edge of the abyss and trying to get information out of him. He struggled."

  "You threw him into the abyss? Are you fucking crazy? They'll know you did it!"

  I turned to face him, pulling conveniently out of his arms and putting a little distance between us. A flush spread across his face and I looked at him incredulous. Was he blushing?

  He grimaced but then shot back at me. "They know we've been visiting anyway. Nicholson gave birth to twins, remember?"

&
nbsp; It was my turn to blush. "Ahh. I forgot about that."

  "It doesn't matter, I’ve got a lead on the last one, Kincaid, and he’s being kept in solitary at the same prison Nicholson was in. I'm working on getting in to see him but it's not easy, they're on full alert and the TV's been locked on to repeat episodes of the Antiques Roadshow.”

  Ah yes, there were punishments and then there was vengeance. Satan was a master.

  10 - Questions, questions!

  "Do I really have to do this again? Can't we just skip to the balancing good and evil thing?" I asked Zerachiel as I stared up at the brass plaque of Dr. Sigmund Freud.

  "Zerachiel grabbed me by the shoulder and turned me towards the door.

  "Don't be a wimp, you enjoyed it last time, remember?"

  The same old bag receptionist was on duty when we arrived and I threw myself down on to the couch while Zerachiel informed her of our arrival. I looked about me in surprise. Sigmund had been decorating. Gone were the cream walls and Dali. The walls were now a pale green colour and the painting had been replaced with a picture of Mickey Mouse. It was the picture I'd doodled in his office and I frowned. What was the doc up to? What was he trying to tell me? More importantly, what reaction was he trying to provoke?

  Before even Zerachiel could take a seat beside me, Sigmund walked through the door, hands up in greeting.

  "Natalia, my child, how lovely it is to see you."

  I stood as he came across and kissed both cheeks. He turned to Zerachiel and smiled warmly, shaking his hand.

  "And Zerachiel, always a pleasure. Will you be waiting for Natalia? I can get you some refreshments?"

  Zerachiel smiled then shook his head. "No, I have things to do. I'll call back."

  "Take your time, my boy, take your time. Natalia and I have a lot of things to discuss today." He looked at me, still smiling but I swear I saw a glint in his eye.

  Zerachiel turned and kissed me on the cheek. "I'll be here for you, when you come out.”

  The tone of his voice sent chills down my spine. And not the good kind. He knew I was in for something unpleasant. He’d helped set me up, I was damn sure of it.

  My feet stopped working and the doctor almost dragged me along to his office. It’s funny how old dead people have the strength of superman.

  "So do you like my new artwork? Rather fetching, I thought," he said as he steered me in to his room.

  I headed towards the recliner and he pushed me gently away from it and towards the couch.

  "Not today, Natalia, today I thought we'd try something different."

  I plonked down on the sofa, my mind going a million miles an hour, as Sigmund took his seat and pulled his chair closer to the sofa. I refused to lie down. You can take a horse to water but you can't make it drink. Well you could, but they didn’t tend to float well afterwards.

  I looked across at the doc and he was still smiling at me, benignly. I narrowed my eyes, suspiciously. He pulled his notepad from the table beside him.

  "Yes, my new art work. A lovely piece. It came as part of a whole series."

  He threw the notepad down on the table, open at the page where I'd been doodling.

  "Let me tell you what these pictures mean, shall I?" I breathed a sigh of relief. Doodles? He wants to talk about doodles? No problemo!

  "You see that picture on the left? That's a dagger, if I'm not mistaken. You drew this when I was talking about my mother. Why don't we start there? Tell me about your mother.”

  I glared at him and pressed my lips together. He looked at me, not moving, not saying anything, just staring into my eyes. I could do this. I'd never lost a staring contest in my life.

  He sighed and sat forward in his chair, staring straight into my eyes. "Natalia, I thought we were here because you wanted redemption. If you don't want to be here, you can leave at any time."

  He sat back in his chair, not breaking eye contact. Challenging me.

  I thought about Jack and his mother. I thought about Zerachiel and Abaddon. Then I thought about Agnes and my new family.

  I looked in to his blue eyes, the flecks of silver running through them seemed to mock me. I listened to my heartbeat steadily pumping in my chest and the sounds of the air as it entered and exited my lungs. His iris expanded and I found myself drawn in, pulled in gently to the swirling depths, a faint reflection in its centre expanding until I was in another place and time.

  And then I started talking.

  The light coming in from the small window in the office slowly faded and still I talked. I was so busy talking, I didn’t notice as the dawn of a new day shone its light back in and banished the darkness. And still I talked. In fact, I worried I wouldn't be able to stop.

  I can't remember everything we talked about but I remember it wasn't pretty. When we finished, I looked down at the pile of sodden handkerchiefs lying around me and realised that at some point, I must have cried. A lot. If you asked me why, I wouldn't have been able to tell you. Perhaps it was for the young child I'd been, brought up in isolation without a frame of reference for her moral compass. Perhaps it was for the souls I’d tormented; the pain and suffering I'd caused in my pathetic attempts to get attention, any kind of attention, from the people around me.

  I looked across at the doctor who was still sitting upright in his chair, watching me intently, but now he was smiling.

  "Now we're getting somewhere," he said.

  I looked at him, shocked. How the hell had he managed to do that?

  I dried my eyes as Dr Freud escorted me back to reception, his arm draped gently around my back.

  "You did well, today, Natalia. Very well," he said to me gently as we reached the desk.

  Zerachiel jumped up from his seat, a worried expression on his face and I looked at him. His hair was sticking up where I imagine he had run his fingers through it in frustration as he waited. We'd been way more than an hour.

  The doctor handed me across to him and he wrapped me in his arms. The tears welled up in my eyes again and another bout of crying ensued. Damn, if I was myself I would have kicked my own arse for being a wuss.

  Zerachiel rubbed my back. "Come on, I'll take you home. Your friends are waiting for you."

  I woke up in bed the next morning, my head hanging over the side and the blankets twisted around my body. I raised my head and groaned. I was never drinking brandy again.

  The sunlight hurt my eyes and I pulled my hand over my face and looked up, grimacing, as I realised Agnes was standing in front of me, hands on hips and glaring down at me as though I'd done something terrible. If I had, I couldn't remember. She could add it to the list and I’d tell Dr. Fraud the next time I had my therapy. And no, there is no spelling mistake.

  Agnes slapped me over the back of the head. "For the last time will you get out of bed! And change that negligee, its obscene!"

  She marched from the room and I pulled myself upright, trying desperately to untangle the blankets. I thought back to the previous evening and fragmented memories came back to me. The visit to the doctors, coming home, downing a bottle of brandy in an attempt to stop the emotional turmoil that was even now taking my brain apart and re-assembling my memories; making me see things in a different light and making me none-too proud of myself. I looked down at the negligee and blushed. It was rather translucent.

  "I like it, don't change," Abaddon said, sitting on the edge of the dresser watching me.

  My nipples hardened at the sight of him and I wondered for a second if he was talking about my personality or my negligee. I glared at him. He winked at me. Or should I say he winked at my breasts.

  "Feeling a little sorry for yourself this morning?" he asked, his eyes eventually making the difficult journey to my face.

  I grumbled and stood up, transforming the negligee into a full length Victorian nightgown with ruffles at the collar and sleeves.

  "Spoil sport," he laughed.

  "What are you doing here?" I demanded, glaring at him. I was so not a morning person, es
pecially when I was horny and knew I wouldn’t be relieving it any time soon.

  "Just thought I'd drop in and see how you were, after yesterday," he said, stifling a grin. "Redemption going ok for you?"

  "Natalia, I won't tell you again! If I have to come up those stairs it'll be with a bucket of water! Move your arse!" Agnes screamed from downstairs.

  "Come on," Abaddon said, grinning. ”It’s about time I met the old harpy, don't you think?"

  I made to pass him and he grabbed me by the back of the head, pulling me to him for a hungry kiss. I reached up to steady myself and found my hands winding themselves into his hair and pulling him down hard for better access to his sweet lips. His tongue caressed my lip as he sucked it into his mouth, biting down gently on the delicate flesh.

  “Last chance,” screamed Agnes, perilously close.

  I wrenched out of Abaddon’s arms and dodged down the stairs.

  I walked into the kitchen ahead of Abaddon to see Agnes cooking eggs and two plates set out at the table. Unless she had miraculously regained her super powers then I guess she already knew we had company. I hoped she didn't think it was Zerachiel. Agnes turned from the stove, the steam on her glasses making her temporarily blind. She took off her glasses and wiped them on her apron, replaced them on her face then looked up directly at Abaddon. I held my breath, waiting for the explosion. She looked at me then back at Abaddon once more, taking in, I’m sure, the heavy, lust-laden eyes we both still possessed after our kiss.

  Her eyes narrowed and she moved slightly, planting her feet a foot apart and squaring her shoulders, her hands dropping to her sides, one holding on tightly to the t-towel. Satan help him if she used it, she was deadly accurate with that thing.

  I looked at Abaddon as he took up position, his arms dropping to his sides, his eyes narrowing but never leaving her face. Agnes didn't flinch, she just stared right back at him. Abaddon flexed the fingers of his left hand. They stared some more. A four foot three ghost squaring up to a six foot two demon, it was a close match. I swear, all we needed was some tumbleweed and the theme tune to ‘A Fist Full of Dollars’ and we had ourselves a full blown Mexican standoff. I leaned against the bench to watch the show.