Captivating the Witch

by Michele Hauf

  “I can’t imagine. Your breed has endured much through history.”

  “Thank you. I just needed to know...”

  “I’m not a murderer?”

  She shrugged. “It would have been a deal breaker.”

  “I see. So we’re at the deal stage?” He crossed his arms and strode to a window. Red and azure light beams spilled across his face and the sigils on his hands. He was beautiful. And dark. And an enigma she never wanted to completely learn, because to do so would spoil his mystery.

  “No,” she said, “I just— Well, you know. I couldn’t have continued to see you if that had been the case.”

  He nodded, not turning to regard her. “Are we doing something here? The two of us? Beyond the obvious need for knowledge we seem to want to get and give to one another?”

  “Uh, don’t you think we are? It’s not necessary to kiss a woman to answer her questions. I just thought...”

  This time the look he cast her felt genuine and real. His smile wasn’t cold. And a bit of the smolder filled his eyes now. “I do like kissing you. You’ll have to forgive me my skittishness. I thought I was over that with you.”

  “Your thing about bad luck with witches.”

  “Yes.” He held up his hand, the half gloves revealing only the heavily tattooed and sigiled fingers. “Unlike many species who can walk among the humans undetected, my differences are visible. Women get a look at my thorns, or wonder about the weird black growths at my temples, and let’s just say it spoils the romantic mood.”

  “But witches should understand.”

  “Yes, well, your kind tend to be either oddly fascinated...” He grinned at her and Tamatha felt a thread of guilt heat her face. “Or... I’d rather not explain right now. I had a bad experience with a witch. But that’s my past.” Again he assessed her with that knowing accusation. “I think I should probably not question this thing we have too much. Maybe just enjoy it while I can.”

  “Good plan. Love often,” she provided.

  “Yes, that family motto of yours.”

  “Good words to live by. Love is good for everyone.”

  “You are quite the optimist.”

  “And you tend toward pessimism.”

  His shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh. “I suppose I am. But I won’t offer excuses. Take me or leave me.”

  “I’ll take you.” She winked and danced her fingers along his arm and up to thread them through his hair. “Tell me, Ed. What was the reason you needed a witch to cast a spell for you? Are you calling up a fellow demon? If it’s bad, I still want to know. I need to know. You can trust me.”

  “I do know that. I want to tell you exactly what I’ve been involved in lately. I need your help. But...” He glanced around, limning his gaze along the walls and even the ceiling. “I’ve felt the intrusion lately. Like a sort of supernatural spy cam. I think someone is tracking me or somehow...listening.”

  “Really?” She joined him in his search of the invisible snoop. If she focused she could match her earthbound vibrations to that of the marble inside his home and sense any anomalies. She had noticed something earlier that seemed a bit off but had thought it from him.

  “Might be a witch,” he added. “I can’t tell.”

  “I can put up a shield for us to talk under so no one can hear.”

  “You can?”

  “No problem. Uh...” She tapped her lips as she sorted through the possibilities. This was fun stuff. She rarely got to utilize the shield of silence. “The bathroom is upstairs? You secure the front door and meet me up there.”

  Grabbing her shoulder bag, she skipped up the black metal stairs and into the bathroom, where she pulled the shower curtain aside to reveal the freestanding black claw-foot bathtub. A narrow stained glass window featured a white lily, but the sun was on the other side of the building, so it was muted. The lily was the heraldic fleur-de-lis and symbolized chastity and virtue. “Yes, perfect for keeping secrets.”

  Inside her bag she kept an emergency kit of supplies. Enough salt to pour a thin circle around the tub. A small red-and-black candle she set on the vanity. Some crushed valerian sprinkled over the salt for silence. And a spritz of lemon oil around the door frame to block intrusive entities finished the job.

  By the time Ed stood in the bathroom doorway, she had completed preparations.

  Kicking off her heels, Tamatha climbed into the tub and, peering through the parted gray fabric shower curtains, gestured to her reluctant demon lover to join her.

  “Seriously?” He approached, arms crossed over his chest, and sniffed the lemony air. “This is going to work?”

  “It’ll give us the privacy we need. I promise. Careful. Step over the salt. And kick off your boots. You shouldn’t be wearing boots in the house anyway.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He studied the salt circle for a few long seconds, then drew in a deep breath and did as requested, climbing into the tub and crouching on the opposite edge, facing her. The curtain darkened their little tent, but a candle placed between their feet glowed up beneath their faces.

  Tamatha reached out and adjusted the broken salt line to close it up, containing them within the circle. Ed reacted instantly. His head jerking backward, he grasped for the tub edges and grimaced, jaws tight.

  She placed a palm over his heart to adjust the volatility of the circle. Whispered a few Latin words, “refragatio subsisto.” His heartbeats thundered and then slowed.

  Ed relaxed and exhaled. “Whew! This is a powerful circle.”

  “I never do anything half-assed,” she said and leaned forward to kiss him. “Most powerful witch in Paris, remember?”

  “That is probably the first time I’ve ever voluntarily stepped into a salt circle. You do bewitch me, Tamatha.”

  “Never purposely. Now.” She clasped his hands between them. “Tell me—what has been troubling you so much you resorted to kidnapping a witch?”

  “Will you ever let me forget that one?”

  “Probably not. But you’ve been wanting to ask me since then, right?”

  “Yes, but I had to know I could trust you first.”

  “Hence the romance and wine?”

  “Honestly? Whatever happens romantically between us is separate from this, which I consider business.”

  “Good to know. So you do consider this a romance?”

  “It’s certainly not a tragedy.” He kissed her.

  She was miffed he couldn’t claim the word but decided to mark it off as caution instead of lack of interest. “So tell.”

  He clasped his hands before him and pressed his fists against his mouth. She sensed his anxiety, but wasn’t about to give him a pass on this one. She needed to know what it was he was so passionate about that destiny had brought the two of them together in a means neither could have resisted.

  “I need you to perform a spell for me. Maybe a spell. I’m not sure. But a searching spell might be a good start.”

  “I already said I could do that.”

  “Right, but it might be vast or maybe small. I feel as though I’m asking a lot. It’s to do with...other witches.”

  She gaped at him. She’d expected demons. What could he want that required a spell against her own? She didn’t perform magic against the Light. It was unthinkable.

  She leaned forward, feeling the heat from the candle flame warm her hands. “I know witches aren’t in trouble with vamps again. Has it to do with demons?”

  “Demons and witches. A particular denizen of demons and perhaps one particular coven. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m trying to piece things together and I need your help to do that.”

  He took her hands and held them above the candle flame. The amber light warmed their grasp. “Demonic magic won’t work because we’ve very little sway against witches.”
<
br />   “As do witches against demons. We generally can’t command a demon to do our bidding unless we’ve conjured that demon to this realm in the first place.”

  “Right, but you can take us out and...bind us.”

  “True.” She hadn’t considered that at the time. Why had she been able to bespell him in the binding? Were there exceptions? Another note for her research list.

  “I need a witch to perform a spell that will— Let me explain first.”

  Within the glowing confines of the bespelled bathtub, Ed told her everything.

  “I witnessed a coven of witches murder a demon a few days ago, not ten minutes after I ran into you in the alley. And the other night after you cleansed my office, that phone call I got sent me to arrive after another demon had been slaughtered. I had initially thought it was a random killing, but now with two in the same cemetery and possibly by the same witches, I’m thinking this could escalate, and I don’t want that to happen.”

  “Keeping the peace?” she asked.

  “Exactly. I’ve been able to piece together some basic facts. But I still don’t know exactly what is going on. The demon killed was a friend of mine. Laurent LaVolliere. And the second demon was from Laurent’s denizen.”

  “And you think a coven is killing off a denizen of demons?”

  “I don’t know. Are the witches going after any demon they can find? Or maybe they are focusing on a specific bloodline that originated in the eighteenth century. Or it could be that specific denizen.”

  “What makes you think it’s related to a bloodline from the eighteenth century?”

  “Tamatha.” He clasped her hand to the side of the candle. “You know how witches use familiars to call up demons and then can control that demon to do their bidding?”

  She nodded. “I’ve never done it myself. Seems cruel.”

  “Exactly. The demon never asked for such slavery. But generally after the intended task is completed, the demon is released or escapes. But a coven in the eighteenth century used to enslave their demons and use them until they literally burst into dust or collapsed from exhaustion.”

  He splayed his hands out and continued. “What I have learned from some online research is that, in the eighteenth century, a coven was brought to the pyres and burned right here in Paris where the Place de Grève used to be.”

  “In the courtyard before city hall.”

  “Yes. In the article I read, two accusers were listed by name. And of course, no one assumed anything at the time but that they were human. I suspect they may have been the very demons the witches had enslaved. Yet they had been able to occupy human bodies to make the accusations.

  “It was clever on the demons’ part. Revenge against their oppressors. And it did serve to set them free, for their persecutors were burned.”

  “Clever indeed. And I can hardly feel sympathy for a coven who would do such a thing.” She stroked his hand reassuringly. “How do you feel this is related to the demon deaths you’ve witnessed?”

  “I believe the coven that was burned is the very same who are now murdering descendants of that denizen who accused them,” he said.

  “But if they were burned at the stake...how is that possible? They’d have to be...revenants.”

  “You said it, not me. But that term perfectly fits what I’ve witnessed. They’ve risen from ash, Tamatha. I don’t know if they were conjured by another witch or were able to manage the transformation back to life themselves, but I know the coven’s name because it was the last thing Laurent said before he died. They are Les Douze.”

  “The Twelve?” Suddenly Tamatha’s heart thudded against her rib cage. She clutched her chest. “I’ve heard of them before. But from whom and why? I can’t recall what I know about them.”

  “Whatever they are, I think they’re back. As zombies.”

  Chapter 9

  He’d confessed his idiotic thinking. And she hadn’t laughed at him. Did she trust him after all?

  “And you learned this by witnessing one of your friends being killed by these zombie witches?”

  Ed nodded and rubbed Tamatha’s clasped hands softly. “Laurent and I were close because our mothers were when we were younger. Our distant relatives were in the same denizen that Laurent led, or used to lead. That denizen was formed in the eighteenth century after they escaped enslavement by The Twelve.”

  “But you’re not in the denizen?”

  “I’m not affiliated with a denizen. Evil overlord, remember? I’m a stand-alone kind of guy.”

  And after discussing his ability to gain knowledge by eating hearts, he kicked himself for not considering such in the graveyard. If he had tapped into Laurent’s heart, he might have some answers. Of course, it wasn’t a practice he utilized often, so it hadn’t been fore in mind. Hell, just getting out of there had been. But he wouldn’t reveal that moment of lacking bravery to Tamatha.

  “Come on. I’ve laid something incredible on you, and I’m feeling drained by this salt circle.” He leaned forward, pressing his nose to hers and kissing her lips. “Can we get out of the cone of silence now?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I forgot about that. Let me clear the salt for you.” She did so with a shuffle of her hand over the salt line, and once he was out, he turned to help her from the tub. She snuffed the candles and set them back on the vanity. As she cleaned up her supplies, Ed noticed she wasn’t even touching the things as they straightened and aligned on the vanity. That OCD magic could come in handy on cleaning day.

  When finished, she leaned against the vanity and crossed her arms. Candlelight kissed her glossy lips with an enticing glint. “I need to think about this, Ed.”

  “Of course you do. What I ask of you is immense. I’m not even sure what it is I’m asking you for. Is a spell required? What are those witches? They look dead to me. They must have been summoned by someone.”

  “Who else could be involved?”

  “I have no clue. I need to do more research, but I don’t have a very extensive database or the means—”

  “The Archives. Now that I know what is going on, I’m sure I can find information in there.” She hastened down the stairs, and when he thought she would rush away, she sat on the stool before the kitchen counter. “I think we should finish the wine.”

  He poured her a goblet of wine and none for himself.

  “You don’t seem very worried that a gang of dead witches might come for you.”

  “I don’t worry so much about myself as I do other demons getting killed and the possibility of chaos should this coven become sloppy and reveal themselves to humans.”

  She tapped a beringed finger against the goblet rim. “You and that ‘keeping the peace’ thing?”

  “Exactly. Let’s say I make it a point to ensure Paris stays relatively demon quiet. In the long run it’s good for us all.”

  “You really are a good guy,” she said on an incredulous whisper. “I think an evil overlord can be beneficent if the henchmen he leads are doing good. But what bothers me is I don’t know how those witches could have risen from ash.”

  “Witchcraft? Do you think someone else—another witch—could have summoned them?”

  “Makes more sense than dead witches rising on their own. Oh.” She pressed a hand to his chest. “We shouldn’t talk about this out here. I haven’t warded this area.”

  He swept her into his arms. “What was shared in the cone of silence stays in the cone of silence. Promise?”

  She nodded. “But—” Another shiver and this time she pushed out of his arms. “Agreed.”

  “You want to leave?”

  She looked at him and shook her head. “I’d much rather finish our date. And this wine.”

  “We could watch some television, chatter about random things. Kiss?”

  Th
at got a smile from her. But he was pushing it. He’d dumped a huge revelation on her. He could hardly expect her to want to make out. It was really hard for him, though, not to think about kissing her. All the time.

  “I want to ward this place,” she said with determination.

  “I have wards.”

  “Against witches?”

  “Surprisingly? Not. Else you would be in pain right now.”

  “I felt the intrusion you spoke of when I first entered. There’s something not right about this place.”

  “It’s probably the same thing I felt. Heavy, like it’s trying to invade my skin.”

  “Yes.” She shuffled through her shoulder bag. “I’ll need more supplies. I’ll have to do it next time I visit. If it’s a witch who has been getting into your place and spying on you and we want to have a conversation without worry of it being broadcast, a ward is necessary. Would you let me try?”

  He clasped her hand and leaned across the counter. “But if you ward against witches, then I won’t be able to bring you home and ravish you.”

  A flutter of her lashes teased. “Ravishing sounds wonderful. I’ll put a niche in for me. The warder usually does that anyway. Did you know that? Whomever you have ward your home generally leaves an entry for themselves. I hope you trust the person who warded it previously.”

  “I did not know that, but I do trust the fellow. And I trust you.” He walked around the counter and took her hand as she got off the stool. “I’m suddenly compelled to do this.”

  He kissed her below the jaw, there at the base of her earlobe where he loved it most. Always her hair spilled over his face, tickling, and the scent of lemons was sweetly fresh.

  “Mmm,” she cooed and slipped her hands up his chest. “Let the ravishing begin.”

  Ed spun her and her shoulders met the wall. He kissed her mouth, tasting wine and her sigh. Her dress buttoned from breasts to hem, and he unbuttoned the first and then the next. “Do you mind?” he asked.