by Michele Hauf
Her father glanced to her and assessed her truth, then with a nod, turned back to Tor. With a hissed magical word and a slash of his hand, he released Tor from his exile pinned to the wall. Tor dropped, but managed to catch himself and not go all the way down. But he did drop the pistol on the hardwood floor. He’d leave it there. Witches were tricky, and he knew well this dark witch was not someone he wanted to anger any more than he already had. For he could tap into Daemonia, summon demons and exorcise all sorts of strange creatures.
“Why are you in need of protection, Lissa?” Thoroughly asked while he maintained an icy stare on Tor.
“It’s the spell I promised you I’d do for Mom. It required an ingredient that is volatile. I felt the need to take extra precautions for the next few days until—you know.”
“I can protect you,” TJ insisted. His sneer at Tor indicated his unspoken words: a hell of a lot better than this idiot.
“You’re busy with Mom. Dad, don’t worry about it. I got this. Okay?”
Tor sensed the witch release his breath and saw his shoulders drop as he took another step back and nodded, relenting to his daughter’s gentle persuasion. “Right. We did talk about this. You can handle it. I know you can.” He offered his hand to Tor. “No hard feelings?”
Tor slapped his palm against the witch’s and shook. Their squeeze pressed the heavy silver rings into his skin, and Tor wondered if his bones would take on the impressions. “If you can forgive my rashness, I’ll forgive yours.”
“Done. I know your reputation. Torsten Rindle, correct?”
Tor nodded.
The man sighed heavily, but with a positive resignation. “You and my brother had a row a few years back. He tends to be impulsive and dangerous with his magic. But...I know your integrity is unwavering. I trust you to protect my daughter.”
Melissande embraced her dad from the side and laid her head against his shoulder. He was a tall, dark one, but Tor’s gaze was level with his eyes.
“Now that we’re all buddies, let’s go have some tea and you can tell me why you stopped by,” she said. “You never visit, Dad. I sometimes wonder why not.”
“You know it’s your mother.” He wrapped an arm around his daughter’s shoulder, and the twosome strolled toward the kitchen. “She’s...a handful.”
Tor remained by the wall, tugging at his tie, which constricted him more than usual. He felt suddenly unwelcome. It would probably be best to give the two some space. Besides, his throat ached, and he wasn’t eager to see what further torture the witch could offer if angered.
“I’m going to do a perimeter check!” he called, and picked up the pistol and stepped outside.
Closing the door behind him, only then did he release his breath. He’d almost had his larynx crushed by the Thoroughly Jones. One half of the notorious Jones twins who were Paris’s most infamous dark witches. If you were in the know about witches, you knew of them. And a wise man walked a wide circle around their air.
Why had he agreed to protect his daughter? Oh right, because she’d batted her lashes at him, and those big doe eyes had stolen away a smart refusal.
Never before had he allowed himself to be swayed by pretty eyes. And a sexy smile. Not to mention, she sparkled. And she was so seemingly unaware of her cuteness. Or that she was a bit inept with her magic. And the frog and duck. What was it about her menagerie? It was all endearing. And appealing. And...
“What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Rindle?”
Was he starting to have feelings for the wacky witch? That wasn’t his MO. He didn’t notice women while on an assignment. It had never been a focus for him when his job, and the lives of others, depended on him staying in control.
And yet their proximity was teaching him a different perspective on how to handle client relations. Mel demanded a closer, yet more casual approach. She insisted he let down his guard while also maintaining it. It was a weird dichotomy that made him shake his head.
And he’d held her hand last night. Hadn’t wanted it to end.
Was he in over his head?
“Never. I can handle one little witch. Even a sparkly one.”
He stepped around to the backyard and decided poking about to ensure there were no more pet graves on the property would be a wise move.
Five minutes of searching confirmed his suspicions that any buried dead thing had already risen. Tor stood at the back of the yard beneath a fall of lush pink flowers that smelled like women’s perfume. No more revenants. Or zombies. Hell, really? Was he going there?
It was possible that zombies did, indeed, exist.
Sliding a hand over the crystal talisman hanging from his belt, he smiled as a pair of squirrels chittered and scampered up the trunk of an ancient chestnut tree that mastered the back corner of the yard. And there was that cauldron capped by a round wooden cover. Dare he peek inside?
The hairs on the back of his neck tightened. And it wasn’t from thoughts of what could be inside the iron cauldron.
Tor didn’t turn around. He didn’t want to. He felt the man’s presence as a clutch about his throat. Again. But this time he wasn’t pinned against the wall.
“Rindle.”
Tor winced as Thoroughly Jones joined his side. The air had changed and felt heavy on his shoulders. And he had the foreboding thought that if he swallowed, it would use up the last of his saliva. The witch tapped a pink bloom, and the stamen released a fall of bright yellow pollen. Much more than was normal.
Witches, Tor thought. Too freaky for his peace of mind. Yet he remained calm. Cool was his forte.
“More than being surprised by having a gun pointed in my face at my daughter’s front door,” TJ said, “finding you in her home, alone with her, puts up my hackles.”
Was the man really going to play the part of threatening father to his daughter, who was a grown woman? She had to be midtwenties, at least. An independent woman who lived on her own and had to be long out of her father’s care.
“She found me,” Tor said. “She hired me. I’m doing a job.”
“Uh-huh.”
Tor winced as something tightened about his neck. The man hadn’t moved to touch him, but he was working some sort of subtle magic on him.
“Protecting your daughter requires 24-7 guarding,” Tor said. “I slept on the couch, if that’s what’s sticking in your craw.”
“Lissa is a big girl. I don’t interfere in her love life.”
“This is not a—” Tor shook his head.
“Exactly. Even you don’t know what this is. I can see the stars in my daughter’s eyes when she speaks your name. She’s always been flighty and walks a few inches above the earth. Whimsical is what my wife calls her.”
Tor sensed the dark witch hadn’t a clue how to grasp the concept of that word. How Mel had turned out so completely opposite her father was a wonder to him. Whimsical, indeed.
“You will ensure no harm comes to my daughter.”
“That’s sort of how it works, me being a protector.”
“Sort of?” TJ turned and lifted a brow. The menace had returned to his gaze. He didn’t fit in this garden of sweetness and wonder. Unless you factored in the zombie dogs.
“She’s safe with me. I guarantee it.”
“You are a mere human.”
“I’ve been around the block. I know things. And I take precautions.”
“Yes, your reputation is solid.” The witch’s gaze dropped to the quartz talisman at Tor’s hip. “But why ghosts?”
Unwilling to get into that conversation, Tor crossed his arms high across his chest. “Listen, if you don’t trust me—”
“I do. I...I came out here to apologize. I was too hasty at the front door. But self-preservation is ingrained in us all. I’ve seen things, Rindle.”
“I imagine the entire Jones family has. Of course, Me
lissande is—she’s a light witch.” Tor stated the obvious, but he wasn’t sure how to approach his curiosity with her father. He wasn’t going to come right out and state he thought she was doing something to prove herself to her father.
“She’ll come around,” TJ said breezily. Now he splayed out his hand before him and the flower canopy shuddered, dropping a storm of pollen onto the grass. “You allergic, Rindle?”
Only to dark witches. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Ghosts,” TJ muttered. A quirk of his brow pondered the word, but he didn’t say more.
Tor wasn’t going to give him anything. Especially not about ghosts.
“I’ll foot your bill,” TJ suddenly said. “Don’t bother Lissa about that.”
“Of course.”
“You going to be here 24-7?”
“That’s how—”
“—it works. Right. My daughter is beautiful.”
“That she is. And if you think intimidation is necessary here, I don’t really understand. Like I said—”
“Just doing your job.” TJ chuckled. “The results of your cooperation with my daughter will surprise us all. Know that whatever you expect to happen? Will not.” The witch turned to him completely and held his hand before him, then slowly clenched his fingers into a C shape. And as he did so, Tor felt the grip about his throat again, not touching, but warning. “Don’t fuck this up, Rindle.”
The grip released and Tor breathed in quietly. But instead of nodding like a chastised little boy, as the witch turned to leave, Tor gripped him by the arm, stopping him. TJ’s look could have maimed, and it probably would have if Tor held on any longer, but he wasn’t about to back down to magical grandstanding.
“She’s doing this for your family,” Tor said. “Don’t let whatever this is between us become a war you don’t need to fight.”
The witch lifted a brow. Smirked. Then with a nod, he tugged his arm from Tor’s grip and strolled out of the garden and around the side of the house.
Tor nodded. “Damn bloody straight.”
* * *
Mel kissed her dad on the cheek and walked him to the front door. She’d understood immediately when he’d confessed that her mother was a handful. It had been three weeks since Star had died. She’d taken a leap from the top of the building in an attempt to make the neighboring building. It hadn’t gone well.
TJ was suspicious of that leap. As was Mel. Could her sister have been responsible?
Of course she had been.
That made invoking the spell under the full moon even more urgent. To once and for all end Star’s torment and to put her father’s mind at peace. It always took a few months for her dad to ease Star back into the life she had once led. That involved showing her videos of her family, walking her around the house and telling her stories of all the adventures they had had. It was trying and hard on Thoroughly.
The fact that Vika, Melissande’s aunt, had offered to spend the afternoon with Star and give Thoroughly a few hours off had been gratefully appreciated. He’d only wanted a few hours to relax, breathe, and sit and hold his daughter’s hand. They had both watched Tor poke around in the backyard garden. The bright pink clematis had tickled his skin, and purple foxgloves had brushed his ankles as he’d poked and prodded the soil. At one point, he’d fired his weapon into the ground and a sift of dark ash had spumed up. Taking care of any remaining potential zombies, she’d decided.
“He’s a strange one,” her dad had said. And then they’d both looked at each other and laughed.
Because really, they knew, in the world of strange, their family ranked right up there. Yes, even in the paranormal realm.
At the front door, her dad pulled her into one of his generous hugs and they stood there for a long time. Mel loved it when his hair covered her face and she nuzzled her nose against his chest, drawing in his earthy dark scent. Most would question his motivations to the dark and the acts he had committed over the decades in the name of his magic. He had done some bad things. Yet just as many good things. He was perfect to her. And she would never let him down.
“What does the protector mean to you?” he suddenly asked.
Mel bowed her head and shrugged. “He’s doing a job, protecting me.”
TJ lifted her chin with a finger. She couldn’t look into his eyes for long without a sigh. “I like him, Dad. He’s...different. Like me. I’ve always been the weird one in the family.”
“The black sheep,” TJ provided, as they’d labeled her more than a few times over the years. “Be cautious, Lissa. But remember I love you. No matter what you are. Weird or normal. And promise me you’ll not get in too deep,” he asked of her. “Dark magic must be approached with caution.”
“I’ve watched you over the years, Dad. I know what I’m doing.” Mostly. Too late to beg leave of the task now. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of the problem. Then our family can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Give Mom a kiss for me, will you? I’ll stop by after the full moon. I don’t want to run into Amaranthe, if at all possible.”
“She had your mother shivering under the sink all last night. Your sister seems impervious to my magic. I can’t expel her from the house. And I have expelled many a spirit in my lifetime.”
“This spell will work,” she reassured him. “Its efficacy is increased by blood invocation. And my blood is my sister’s, so...” She kissed him again on the cheek and opened the front door. Tor walked around the side of the house. “Thanks for taking care of that last zombie,” she called to him.
“Zombies don’t—uh...huh,” Tor said as he again shook Thoroughly’s hand. “Monsieur Jones.”
“Do not let any harm come to my daughter,” Thoroughly said firmly.
“Absolutely not. She’s in good hands. But then, you know that.”
TJ eyed Tor up and down and then kissed his first two fingers and drew a sigil in the air between him and Tor. The movement left a brief violet illumination in its wake. He turned and gave Mel a kiss on the cheek, then strode down the sidewalk to the street, where his car waited.
“He’s intimidating,” Tor commented as they watched the car roll away down the street.
“Tell me about it.”
Tor touched his forehead. “Did he just curse me?”
“No, that was a blessing.”
“I’m not sure a blessing from a dark witch is such a good thing.”
“Oh, it’s good. And rare. He trusts you. And that’s remarkable coming from my dad.”
Tor exhaled deeply. “Then I’ll take it for what it was.”
Mel tugged Tor inside. “Let’s perform the cloaking spell. And this time hope it sticks. We don’t need another zombie invasion.”
“Zombies don’t—”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She tugged his hand, cutting off his protest. “Come on, Bruce! Meet us in the bedroom for the invocation!”
Chapter 10
Tor pushed aside the silly bunch of multicolored ribbons and spangles and wandered into Mel’s bedroom, a little unsure, but a lot more curious. Whistling a tune about witchy women, he took in everything. The room’s atmosphere, with its natural wood and rich scent of herbs and spices, wrapped him with a welcome calmness. The ceiling was scattered with dried flower bouquets of sorts he hadn’t names for, though he suspected all had come from her garden. It smelled great. The curved window on the far wall looked out on the lush junglelike backyard. And that plush violet chaise across the room looked like something he could settle into with a book and lose the afternoon soaking in the sunlight.
If a guy did things like that. But Tor did not. He hadn’t time for relaxation. He—well, he was leaving his current profession, but that didn’t make him any less busy. He expected a call for a follow-up interview soon. And then he’d be back to the grind. He liked to stay busy. It kept him from...
Thinking a
bout things he’d best not consider. Like mistakes and hopes and dreams. Some people were put on this earth to do the creative stuff like make art, build empires, dance and share their feelings. And practice witchcraft.
Others—like him—had to balance that out with hard work and a go-getter attitude that had never served him wrong. He had no definition for vacation. Life demanded. He answered. With a gun in one hand, a machete in the other and...a Sinatra tune tossed in for sanity.
A man couldn’t be so hard that he didn’t allow in a creative trickle. The songs he sang kept him from jumping over the edge. Singing improved his mood, so he allowed in that bit of creativity whenever possible.
The witch who lived in this house was as creative as they came. And wild and exotic and weird and quirky. And...beautiful. He wondered if her bedroom was reflective of her soul, peaceful and serene, while the rest of the house and the backyard mimicked her outer quirks.
Startled by the frog who floated past his shoulder, Tor stepped aside and watched as it hovered over where Mel was laying items outside a circle that appeared to have been poured out of black salt onto the hardwood floor.
“Come sit over here,” she directed. “This is awesome to have a triad. That’s probably why the first few cloaking spells didn’t stick. I’ve never done one before. Well, of the dark sort. Live and learn.”
“Right, because, you know, there’s nothing like fighting revenant dogs in a person’s backyard because the spell didn’t work.”
“I need more practice with this dark stuff. It’ll be perfect on the night of the full moon.” She closed her eyes.
Briefly, Tor wondered if she were praying her words would come true. He certainly hoped they did. For her sake. And for her family’s sake. It was a tough deal they had going on. And if he could help in some small way, he would.
He stood outside the circle where she’d pointed out and observed her collection of items. A crystal knife, a feather, a couple potion bottles of which he really didn’t want to know the contents. Three black candles were placed around the circle, nestled into the black salt. And a few crystals in shades of purple, blue and red were scattered beside her leg.