This Wicked Magic

Chapter 16



CJ rang the doorbell. It tinkled as if a faery making her appearance in some silver-screen cartoon. Appropriate for this white round house in which lived two gorgeous red-haired witches. Checking the bouquet of yellow roses in hand, he inhaled the crisp fruity scent. They were miniroses, which gave him a smile. He’d never seen the like, and the froth of gay, tiny petals seemed the much-needed prelude for what he had to do today.

After all the rain they’d gotten the past few days, the sun hung high in the sky and the air was humid. No thunderclouds in the forthcoming days, according to his senses or the weatherman on the television who used fancy gadgets to forecast what CJ could do with a little attention to his elbows.

The door opened and Libby’s effusive smile slipped from her face. “Oh. You.”

Feeling the derelict, CJ sucked in a breath. He hadn’t expected this visit to be easy. “Is your sister home?”

Libby stepped aside to allow him to enter.

“Sit there.” She pointed to the white leather couch then stood before him, hands akimbo, looking him over.

The cat jumped onto his lap and curled its tail beneath CJ’s chin. He didn’t think shoving it off would make him look good in the sister’s disapproving eyes.

“Ex-boyfriend, eh? How did he get like this?”

“A warlock did it to him,” Libby said with no humor at all. “You know anything about warlocks, dark witch?”

“I, er...” What was she getting at? “No?”

“Uh-huh.”

Fingers playing with the coiled nail at her throat, she made show of giving him the mongoose eye, and CJ felt the stab at his kidney as if she’d really done it. So the witch wielded psychological magic. Good for her.

“Yes, good for me. And no, I can’t read minds, but your face is a pitiful chalkboard of all your sins. Vika is out in the garden. You sit tight, and I’ll go find her.”

CJ stood. “If she’s in the garden, I can go out.”

“Not with those pitiful bits of unnaturally dyed flowers, you’re not.”

He looked over the bouquet. Dyed? “I thought your sister would like them.”

Libby rolled her eyes. “Yellow for apology. Oh, you poor misdirected, lovesick fool.” She inclined her head forward. “Are you lovesick?”

He nodded, offering a wincing smile. “I am.”

Libby’s heavy sigh combined mistrust with empathy. “Best to leave you to your own devices then. Through the kitchen and out the double doors. Don’t touch the windows in the doors. I just cleaned them. If I see your fingerprints on the glass, I will hit you with some painful magic right below the belt.”

“All righty, then.”

“Wait.”

He stood frozen, not daring to move.

Libby sidled closer, her eyes glowering over him appraisingly. “Did you bewitch my sister?”

“Purposefully? No, I would never employ such tactics.”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. I can’t figure a reason my sister would fall for a guy like you.”

“She’s fallen for me?”

“Dude, my sister does not sleep with just any man. Especially not someone like...” Another sigh. “You. She’s got to feel something for him, you know?”

“I think I do know that. I didn’t bewitch her, Libby. Promise.”

The tension was thick enough to swim through, and CJ made haste through the kitchen and away from the Window Gestapo, being careful to touch only the silver door handle and not the glass, which gleamed like the crystals suspended from his chandelier collection.

He stepped out into a lush garden that put his pitiful dyed roses to shame. Flipping the bouquet around behind his back, he stepped down the limestone steps in his recently paired boots and took the path beneath a wrought-iron pergola frilled with violet passion flowers. The yellow stamens stuck out their tongues at him as he passed beneath. Foolish witch and his stupid flowers, they whispered on the wind.

He passed by pennisetum, hydrangea, mugwort and various mints. The fragrance intoxicated. He could sit on the stone bench, eyes closed, and name each flower by smell. As part of his magical education, he’d studied botany. A wise witch knew all plants and flora to utilize in his spells.

To his right a red glass witch ball hung suspended above white heliotrope. Hoping to catch some insect souls?

Spreading his free hand over the tops of the snowy queen’s lace growing waist-high along the path, he angled on the cobblestones and spied Vika’s long black skirts. Garnet hair pulled neatly in a long braid gleamed under the sunlight. Always in need of a muss.

Except yesterday. She’d come dressed to seduce. Why hadn’t he picked up on that right away?

Didn’t matter now. Whatever her intentions had been, she had in mind only to help him. He was thankful for that. And he’d gotten over his pouty anger over her not telling him the whole truth before they’d engaged in the spell.

Vika stood, a clasp of silvery seathorn in hand, and smiled softly at him.

That unexpected smile warmed his heart. It had been a day since he’d seen her. It felt like forever.

“Viktorie,” he said, failing at every kind of sweet and meaningful hello he could summon. He kept the miniroses tucked behind his back. “You’re a bright flower among the rest.”

She tilted her head and crossed her arms over her chest. Not about to make this easy, despite the lingering smile. But the seathorn nettles could sting his skin with a simple brush. He imagined she could do the same if he spoke incorrectly.

“I’ve come to apologize. It was awful of me to say those things to you after you had exorcised another demon at the risk to your life. I appreciate what you did for me. I’m sorry.”

Her smile grew as she accepted the apology with a nod. “I’m sorry for being deceptive. That wasn’t me yesterday. And yet, it was.”

“You had to do it on the sly. I wouldn’t have allowed it if I had known.”

“Still, I should have discussed it with you. From now on, no more hiding truths. I promise and vow upon my grandmother’s memory.” She touched the nail at her throat.

“Me, too. Concealing truth is as bad as a lie.”

“If that is so, then what do you have behind your back?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Ah, hell.” He held forth the pitiful offering. “I picked them up in the supermarket on the way here. They are weeds compared with your gorgeous garden. Just thought they’d look pretty in your hair.”

She accepted the flowers and brought them to her nose. Eyes closed and mouth slightly open, she drew in their fragrance, as artificial as it may be. Drawing her nail down the stems, she snapped off the head of one yellow rose and handed it to him.

CJ pressed the stem into the silken depths of her hair. “Another,” he said. She handed him another rose, and he placed it next to the other until all had been crowded into the tightly combed braid. He took out one and crushed it between his forefingers, then rubbed the oil behind her ear and dared to trace it between her breasts. “I anoint you Diva of the Dahlias, and Grand High Priestess of My Heart.”

“I accept your offering, dark one, and promise I will not again use deception to chase out your demons.” Then she cracked a smile and kissed him. “I missed you.”

“I thought you’d hate me.”

“I wasn’t pleased with your reaction, but I can put myself in your position and understand. But one less demon is better than not.”

“For sure. I’m not finished apologizing yet. I need to give you my truth. It can’t be right between us until I do that.”

“What truth?”

“Let’s sit.” He gestured to the bench beneath the stone grotto near a koi pond that wept thick vines frilled with gold and tangerine honeysuckle.

She joined him on the bench and slid her hand into his, which was a good sign. Their combined magics hummed through his veins as if a natural reaction. But now the tough part. The necessary evil.

“Must be dark indeed if you’re so worried about it,” she offered. “I don’t think there’s much more you can say or show me that can be worse than harboring an infestation of demons.”

Yeah? This truth was going to blow that out of the water.

CJ took Vika’s hands in his, so elegant and graceful. She could master all magics with these delicate fingers. Just as he opened his mouth, they heard a scream from inside the house.

“Libby?” Vika dashed down the garden path, her long skirts held near her thighs.

“Saved by the scream,” CJ muttered, and followed her inside.

He’d been close to confession, and now that he’d been granted reprieve, the relief felt immense. Maybe he hadn’t been so ready to reveal his selfish deed after all.

They found Libby kneeling on the gleaming black-and-white-tiled kitchen floor, bent over a sprawled man in dark clothing.

“The soul bringer?” CJ wandered around the man’s long body. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t think so,” Libby said frantically. “He suddenly appeared!”

“He’s not breathing,” Vika noted.

“He never breathes. He doesn’t need to. He’s angelic by origin. Oh, Vika, I was pouring myself a glass of orange juice, and—bam! What do you think happened?”

“Crash landing?” Vika tried. “He isn’t due to scrub me for days.”

“Shake him awake,” CJ directed.

All of a sudden, a flurry of brightness wafted up from the soul bringer’s chest. The corpse lights danced as if dandelion kites on the breeze.

“Souls,” CJ said in wonder.

“Yes.” Vika stood over the soul bringer. “I don’t know why they’re coming out of him, but I’ve got to catch them. Save them for him.”

She held out her arms and lifted her chest to receive the fluttery souls. A few wobbled toward her.

“Vika?” CJ tried. He shouldn’t, but—there were so many. And how many times would they be granted such opportunity?

“Oh, yes! Xum!” She swept her hand toward him and blasted him with air magic, catching a corpse light in the path.

The force of impact slammed CJ against the wall. He cried out as the brightness moved through him and he felt a demon exit his soul. Chaos, surely. “Another?” she said, and again sent a soul through him.

“Vika, I’m not sure,” Libby started. “Reichardt could be in pain. He won’t come to!”

Vika blasted CJ with two more souls. Protection and another demon were sucked to Daemonia. He grasped for hold against the wall but slipped down, landing on the floor, and his head wobbled forward. “No more,” he muttered. “Enough.” Heaving, he panted at the exertion the exorcism had required.

“Now, to make sure I don’t lose any of them.” Vika moved about the kitchen, pursuing the phosphorescent lights, both the ones straight from Reichardt and those she’d moved through CJ.

Libby pulled up one of Reichardt’s eyelids. “He’s in there. I don’t think he’s dead. This is so weird.”

“I think I have them all,” Vika declared.

CJ observed, because he could not move, so taxed were his muscles. Vika’s skirts swept over his boot-tips, and a trail of tiny yellow roses scattered in her wake as she went to kneel by her sister.

“Let’s get the poor guy off the floor. Carry him into the living room and lay him on the couch. CJ?”

“I’ll be right there.” He pushed to stand but fell forward onto his palms. The muscles in his arms trembled as if he’d been lifting weights for hours. Damn, that had taken a lot out of him. “Give me a minute.”

“We can do this. Libby, take his feet. I’ve got his shoulders.” Together they recited, “Atollo” for lift, and the prone man’s body was made lighter.

The sisters carried the soul bringer through the swinging kitchen doors, while CJ pulled himself up by the counter. A smile overtook him. He’d lost another three demons. Unfortunately, one had been Protection. Despite whatever had happened to the soul bringer, it had been remarkable timing. Still didn’t excuse him from telling Vika his secret.

“When I’m more able,” he whispered. Whew! Felt as though he’d run a marathon. Staggering through the swinging doors, he wandered into the living room, where the women had arranged the motionless soul bringer on the couch.

Libby was frantic. “Maybe he hit his head? He could be in a coma!”

“He’s not bleeding.”

“Do soul bringer’s bleed?”

They both looked to CJ, but all he could do was shrug. “I don’t know. Don’t angels have blue blood? But he’s not really angel now, he’s more...I don’t know.” He steadied himself against the wall from a wave of dizziness. “Whew! That exorcism took a lot out of me. I need to lie down. Vika, can we talk later?”

“Of course, you were going to tell me something. You feel all right?”

“Weak but elated.” He kissed her. “Thank you for having the mind to think of me just now. Three more gone.”

“Glad to do it. Yes, you go home and rest. I’m going to help Libby figure out what’s up with Reichardt. Can I come over later?”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I hope not. Get some rest, because I’ll have plans for you when I get there.”

“That’s my wicked witch.”

* * *

On the way home, CJ got a text from his brother, Thoroughly. When he arrived at home, TJ stood by his door, arms crossed and hair pulled away from his face with a leather strap that queued down his back. His twin and he were identical, though TJ was more stylish and tended toward extroversion. But adventure was all CJ’s mien.

“You don’t look so good, brother,” TJ said as they entered the loft.

“Just had a bunch of demons blasted out of me. Takes a lot out of a guy.”

“You found someone to exorcise the demons?” TJ slapped him on the back. “Good going!”

Beelining for the kitchen, CJ poured himself a glass of water from the tap and drank the whole thing before asking his brother why he was there.

“I had a visit from Ian Grim.”

CJ set the glass down hard. “Why would that bastard go to you?”

“Apparently, he doesn’t know your new address. You’ve warded the hell out of this place. A Russian spy satellite couldn’t find it.”

CJ glanced to the bone whistle lying on the counter, shielded from his brother’s eyes. Spy satellites, indeed. And thinking of Russians... He’d hated leaving Vika so quickly, and with the problem of the soul bringer, but she and her sister could manage it.

“So you decided to come over here and show Grim the way?”

“I’m not stupid,” TJ said. “I cloaked my steps. But you, brother, have some explaining to do. Seems Grim is upset over something you took from Daemonia. Something he wants.”

Pacing beneath the glitter of chandeliers, CJ winced. He hadn’t opportunity to tell Vika, so the universe was forcing it out of him now, one way or another. He splayed out his hands. “I couldn’t let Grim get it. You know we’ve been rivals for ages.”

“So this is some sort of power play? What did you take, CJ? And is it going to threaten the world as we know it?”

CJ shrugged. “A small portion of it, I’m sure. But I’d never use the thing. I wanted it out of Grim’s hands. You know.”

“To show up Grim. Hell, Certainly Amadeus Jones, you can never seem to get beyond the selfish streak forged like tarnished brass through your blood. What is it?”

With a sigh, CJ shoved his hands in his pockets and confessed, “The call to the Nacht März.”

Thoroughly’s expression dropped to a cold gape of awe, and the witch invoked a deity he did not subscribe to. “God help us.”