Shadow Demon

by Judith Post

  “Twelve tents?” Each could sleep four people. Reece’s eyes widened at the sheer quantity of food being cooked. Her stomach growled.

  Whitey grinned. “Wedge said you love to eat. He’s never seen a hungrier witch.”

  “I’m a growing girl.” Not really, but she had a fast metabolism.

  “Yeah, growing more and more powerful. It's a pleasure battling with you.” Whitey motioned to foil-wrapped potatoes thrown into each pit. “Want to stay to eat with us?”

  Reece shook her head. Weres still made her nervous. “Can’t. Banafrit and Hecate will expect us back. We haven’t even unpacked yet.”

  Damian returned to Reece’s original question. “Why twelve? There are only seven of you.”

  “It’s a full moon tonight. Every member of the pack will be here. I’d stay indoors if I were you. We’ll be hunting.”

  “Tonight?” She hadn’t been watching the moon, gauging its waxing and waning. She was usually attuned to its rhythm. It bothered her that she hadn’t felt its pull. She frowned. “This isn’t a solstice. I thought you’d stay on your property in town.”

  “We were going to. With your potions, it’s safer right now, but at full moons, where the alpha goes, we go. The others will come later. They’ll go back tomorrow morning, but if you hear something scratch at your cabin door, it’d be better to bolt your locks.”

  “Why didn’t Wedge warn us?” Damian asked. “We could have waited and come tomorrow.”

  “Because there won’t be Weres standing watch outside Nen’s house tonight. We can’t control it. When the moon’s full, we shift.”

  “Benito and Antony will be there,” Damian said.

  “Fine guards, they’ll let you know if anything happens, but we can protect you here.”

  “That’s why Maggie didn’t come this time, isn’t it?” Reece asked. “Wedge wants her safe at home.”

  “Doesn’t she usually cook for the Weres?” Damian asked. “Won’t they be hungry when they shift back?”

  Whitey motioned to the abundance of food on the fires. “We feed before the shift. It takes energy to make the change. Afterward, we’ll be gorged on our kills.”

  Reece tried not to grimace. It was part of being a Were, she knew, but she was glad eating raw meat on the hoof didn’t come with witchcraft.

  They turned to go and Whitey added, “Once everyone leaves, I’ll be the middleman between our camp and your lodge. If you need anything, tell me. We’ll make sure you get it.”

  Damian gave a quick nod. “This place is better than any of us expected.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Whitey motioned up and down the sandy beach. “These grounds hold a lot of secrets. If witches die on this property, there won’t be any questions. No one will find the bodies.”

  “Even if they’re ours?” Reece could picture warlocks with shovels, digging shallow graves to kick their remains into.

  Whitey shook his head. “This is our place. It wants us to win.”

  “I want us to win, too.”

  “Then start picturing victory, not defeat.” Whitey patted her shoulder. “You beat Nen the last time you fought him. You’ll do it again, you’ll see.”

  Reece nodded, but what was it with all the optimism? She was getting a little sick of it.

  Damian tugged on her hand. “We need to start back.”

  She gratefully headed toward the stream with him. The walk here had helped calm her—so had Whitey, even if she didn’t share his empty hope. On the way to the lodge, she stopped to pick leaves and gather seeds, as Banafrit had ordered, dumping them into Damian’s huge palms and stuffing them into their pockets. By the time they reached the cabin, she had a decent collection to spread on the kitchen island.

  “Not there, not now. Put them on the table in the sunroom.” Andre puttered between the stove and refrigerator, and the aroma of chicken and onions made her mouth water.

  “What are you making?”

  A frilly apron circled Andre’s waist. Somehow, it made him even sexier. “Chicken fricassee. Hungry?”

  Reece lifted the lid of the Dutch oven. Seared chicken pieces glistened alongside button mushrooms and small, white onions. The food was almost too beautiful to eat. Almost.

  “While you guys wandered around, I explored the kitchen.” Andre opened one of the refrigerator doors. “Wedge believes in stocking up.”

  Every inch of every shelf held food items.

  “Heaven,” Reece breathed.

  “Even better.” Andre pointed behind the island to a built-in wine storage unit. “Cooled at the perfect temperature.”

  A timer on the stove buzzed, and Andre opened the oven to pull out a rhubarb crisp.

  Reece inhaled, then hugged herself. “Come on, Damian. Let’s set the table.” The sooner napkins and silverware were in place, the sooner they could eat.

  “You’ve been busy.” Hecate stepped through the patio door and held it for Banafrit to enter.

  “You guys can pick weeds, if you want to, but I relax by cooking.” Andre motioned to a stack of plates on the counter. “It’s serve yourself. There’s a salad in the refrigerator if someone wants to get it.”

  Damian put it on the island’s counter and tossed it. Then they jostled in line for their turn. Reece carted a full plate to her seat. While they ate, Damian explained about the Weres and the full moon.

  “Maybe we should spray protective potion around the lodge before it gets dark,” Banafrit said. “If a Were turns wild, we won't have to hurt it.”

  Luna and Aidann volunteered to help.

  "I wanted to spray the lodge anyway," Luna said. "No time like now."

  Reece began gathering plates. “We’ll help Andre clean up, then maybe I’ll unpack.”

  Andre motioned toward the master bedroom. “I put Hecate and my stuff in there, and Aidann and Luna took the next one. It has twin beds. Banafrit took the guest room. That leaves you two in the loft.”

  Reece shrugged. The loft was fine with her.

  While the others sprayed, Damian and Reece rinsed and loaded dishes, then Damian carried Reece’s suitcase up the stairs. When she opened it, he waited to help her put things away and smiled when she took Jenny’s teddy bear out from under her pajamas and placed it on a bed pillow. “If Jenny knew, it would make her happy.”

  “If we live, I’ll tell her,” Reece said.

  “We have to live. If we don’t, Nen will return to Bay City, and he’ll look for your brother and sister.”

  Reece rubbed her arms. "He won't find them.”

  “Eventually, he will. Who'll be able to stop him?"

  Reece chewed on her bottom lip. “If Nen can call more witches and warlocks to him, why can’t we? There must be good witches who’d side with us.”

  “We’ll ask Hecate. She’ll know.” Damian shut the bottom drawer and closed the closet doors. “Not much privacy up here. People can look up and see us.”

  Reece hung a long, heavy comforter over the railing. “There. They won’t see anything once we’re in bed.”

  He grinned and reached for her. “Andre smells everything.”

  “He’ll be too busy with Hecate." To hell with smell. She wanted Damian. A cliché every movie used—the soldier about to go into battle making love to his wife or girlfriend. The old motto—tomorrow we might die. But damn, if she didn't feel that way. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  His arms closed around her.

  Andre's voice interrupted them. “Will you two quit making out and help us make plans?”

  Damian gave a low groan.

  “I heard that!” Andre called. “Weres have super hearing, remember?”

  “And horrible timing!” Damian took Reece’s hand and led her downstairs.

  The others were gathered in the seating area.

  “We sprayed the lodge. Tomorrow, we should start chanting spells and brewing potions to protect Wedge's camp,” Hecate said.

  “Would it help to call more witches?” Dami
an asked. “Reece wondered if you could call them to you just like Nen does.”

  “We could.” Banafrit shook her head. “I don’t want to, though. If we fall, the others will have to band together to stop my son. It will take all of them, if they’re lucky, after he’s claimed our powers.”

  It was a grim statement. Reece swallowed hard, trying to digest it.

  Andre pushed himself off the sofa and paced to the kitchen. “Can I get anyone anything? Hot tea? Something to drink?” He walked to the glass doors that opened onto the deck and fisted and unfisted his hands.

  Hecate turned to study him. She glanced outside. The sun was sinking lower in the sky. “Come here. Let me see your eyes.”

  “What have my eyes got to do with it?” Andre growled, but came closer.

  Reece looked at his fingernails, growing longer. His dark stubble was thick and abundant, his gray eyes rimmed with gold.

  Hecate waved him toward the door. “You’re shifting. Go join Wedge’s pack for the hunt. Every Were turns at full moons. There’s no way to avoid it.”

  “I don’t want to leave you on your first night in a new place.”

  “Go,” Hecate ordered. “I’ll be fine.”

  Andre sprinted for the door. In one leap, he was racing for the lake.

  Banafrit smiled. “I can see how you were attracted to such primal energy. And such good looks.”

  Aidann studied her. “And your husband? What attracted you to him?”

  “My husband was a warlock, but not very powerful. His mother more than made up for his lack of gifts. Not that it mattered. He had a certain charm all his own.” She smiled, remembering. “I avoid warlocks now. I’d never take a chance on having another Nen.”

  Aidann’s fierceness softened. “I can understand that.”

  “I enjoyed everything about Tem. He was so good, so solid.” Banafrit looked at Damian. “You remind me of him.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hecate smiled and nodded agreement. “Tem was wise and generous. When Banafrit invited me into their home, he welcomed me, but warned that he worried no one could help their son.”

  Banafrit’s fingers gripped her scarab amulet. “He worried that his father’s essence would be a part of Nen.”

  “Nen's grandfather? Was he bad?” Reece frowned, struggling to remember.

  “Tem's mother married a beautiful, spoiled mortal and doted on him.”

  “Was he cruel?” Luna asked.

  “Not cruel, but self-absorbed. Everything revolved around his needs.” Banafrit’s gaze turned inward, lost in memories.

  Hecate went to sit beside her friend. “When they say that blood is thicker than water, they’re right. Blood’s even more powerful than upbringing.”

  “No, my son had a choice. He was surrounded by love. He could have chosen the good course. He didn’t.” Banafrit’s expression hardened.

  Goosebumps prickled Reece’s skin, and Damian wrapped an arm around her.

  Banafrit noticed. “I’m sorry. I know I sound bitter. I’ve spent lifetimes trying to help people. I despise what my son has become. He’s angry, I can feel it. And frustrated. His minions will be here soon. We need to be ready.”

  “Tomorrow,” Hecate said. “We’ll brew potions and find spells tomorrow. Tonight, we rest.”

  Reece looked out the bank of windows at the back of the cabin. A full moon bathed Wedge’s property in silver. When everyone separated to go to their rooms, she led Damian up the stairs, stripped out of her clothes, and lay on the queen-sized bed. A skylight painted her in moonbeams. “Come take me, gargoyle. I feel more alive than I have in weeks.”

  Damian’s breath caught in his throat, a good sign. “You look beautiful like that.”

  “So do you.” Her gargoyle’s golden skin shimmered in the moonlight. His chiseled features looked more dramatic—his strong cheekbones and square jawline. He’d never looked more attractive to her. She patted the empty side of the bed.

  Damian’s full lips curved into a smile. “A painter would be in his full glory now.”

  “I don’t need to be painted. I just need your touch.” Reece reached out to him, and he was beside her in a second.

  His hands roamed her bare skin, sending flashes of need to every part of her body. She reached up to wrap her hands around his neck to pull him to her. Their lips met, and heat flared, churning inside her. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders. His teeth nipped her nipples.

  Fire sang through her veins. She was ablaze, and only Damian could satisfy her. He licked her neck. She fought back a scream. They were in the loft. Silence was important. She gritted her teeth and ran her hands over his abs, around to his muscular hips, and inward to his hardened passion.

  Damian gasped, rising higher on his elbows. His breathing stilled, his body tense and rigid. When he was close to explosion, he jerked away from her, and his hands began to roam between her legs, stroking her thighs, then sliding into the crevice of her need, exploring deep within her. She sucked in air, unable to breathe, then spasmed with desire. He mounted her and plunged into her wetness. She bit her bottom lip, refusing to cry out in pleasure. Their hips heaved in unison, and soon, she was panting with relief. He tugged her close, holding her to him. Tears seeped from her closed eyes. No one, ever, could make her feel like Damian made her feel.

  They lay, limp, in each others’ arms. The moon shifted. Its beams no longer painted them. A howl rose close by. Andre? Did he know? Could he smell them? He was running with the pack. More howls joined him. They moved farther away, and Reece sank into a satisfied slumber.

  She woke to voices the next morning. Damian was already up. The sun now filled the skylight. She’d slept deep and sound. They had a lot to do today. Potions and spells. She jerked herself awake. Time to get moving.

  When she stood, her body felt lethargic. Replete. But she had to get in work mode. She tugged on her robe and squared her shoulders before starting down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom. Whitey was huddled in a conference with Banafrit. Was everything okay? Had something happened to Andre? Then she smelled sizzling sausages from the kitchen. A homey aroma. All had to be right with the world, or no one would be cooking. Her stomach growled, and she went to see what was going on.

  Chapter 25

  Damian was manning the stove. Hecate was perched on a stool at the kitchen’s island, keeping him company. Reece glanced at a movement outside on the patio. Aidann and Luna were organizing the things they’d picked in the woods yesterday. Andre was nowhere in sight.

  She turned to Hecate. “Is Andre all right?”

  “He ran all night. He’s passed out in the bedroom, exhausted. I made him shower first. He was filthy.”

  Reece wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want to picture what stains Andre came home with after a hunt.

  Banafrit and Whitey came to join them. Dark circles formed half-moons under Whitey’s eyes. He’d been up all night, too. Banafrit motioned for him to take the lead, and Whitey cleared his throat.

  “Sandy called this morning. She went straight to Nen’s. Rumbling noises are coming from his house and sparks of energy fly out, hit the shield, and make small explosions.”

  Hecate poured orange juice. “Good, he’s figured out we’re gone, that we left Bay City.”

  “How?” Damian asked. “Can he see outside his walls somehow?”

  “No crystal ball, if that’s what you mean. He had a witch hidden, spying on us.” Hecate grinned. “She used an obscuring spell to watch us load suitcases into Andre’s Land Rover.”

  “There was a witch spying on us?” Reece’s hand went to her necklace. It usually warned her.

  “I thought you knew. You touched your moonstone.” Hecate rapped at the French doors that opened onto the back patio and motioned for Luna and Aidann to join them.

  Luna frowned when she saw Whitey and hurried into the house. “What is it?”

  Whitey waited for Aidann to enter before he repeated his news.

  Reece half-li
stened, touching a finger to her necklace. She remembered it had grown warm when they were leaving Bay City, but she’d thought it was trying to give her ideas to battle Nen. When it didn’t, she’d been disappointed, but it had been trying to tell her about the witch nearby.

  Luna watched her expression. “You were in no danger, or the moonstone would have sent you a stronger image.”

  “Can I misinterpret what it tells me?” Reece asked.

  “It’s possible, but if you do, the moonstone will try again if you’re in peril.” Luna tugged at the chain that circled her neck and a matching stone appeared, set in an elaborate silver design. “Mine has never failed me.”

  Aidann pulled a heavier chain from under his black shirt, showing a heavy crystal attached at the end. “It’s saved my life many times.”

  Reece patted hers and slid it back beneath her robe. She felt it nestle close to her heart, directly over the blood-red tattoo that had appeared when her magic awakened. A hexagram. She pressed a hand to it, grateful for its presence.

  Whitey glanced at Banafrit. Her necklace wasn’t hidden. A brightly colored, lapis scarab was affixed to a thick, gold collar that circled her throat. “Your magic?” he asked.

  “Ancient, Egyptian symbols,” she said. “The scarab stands for rebirth.”

  “In afterlife?”

  “From a mortal to a witch,” she told him. “Like you, we don’t age.”

  Whitey frowned. “Does every witch wear a necklace?”

  “We don’t have to.” Hecate carried a plate of sausage patties to the kitchen island. Damian followed with scrambled eggs and toast. “But most of us feel more connected to our energies if we have one.”

  “We are more connected,” Banafrit said, correcting her friend.

  Damian took a stool at the bar. He studied the different chains and jewelry. “Does a moonstone work differently from lapis or crystals?”

  Aidann answered. “Each witch has a certain gem that calls to him or her. That’s the gem that’s meant for you.”

  “What does Nen wear?” Whitey asked.