The Witch's Thirst. Deborah LeBlanc
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air, her brain suddenly went into overdrive. She screamed, looking left and right, then up, searching for the Cartesian. Then the pressure around her waist registered once again, and all she saw in her mind’s eye were long black talons ready to gut her from stem to stern. She screamed, whirling about, shoving her elbows backward, trying to pummel whatever held her.
“Stop, it’s me, Evee. It’s me.”
Evee heard the voice, but her fear overrode recognition. She tried frantically to get away. “Let go, you ugly son of a bitch! Let me go!”
Arms wrapped around her waist tighter, and she felt her back pressed against...a man?
“It’s me, Evee. Lucien. You’re safe. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Startled, Evee turned her head sharply to the left. Lucien’s face loomed beside her. A whimper of gratitude escaped her.
“The C-Cartesian,” Evee said. “I—I...it...” Before any more words could form, she burst into tears that quickly turned into sobs, her body shivering against Lucien.
“I know,” he said softly against her ear. “But you’re safe now. I’ve got you. The Cartesian is gone. You’re safe.”
Evee put her arms around his neck, and Lucien swam closer to shore. Before long, he stood upright, leaned over and scooped her into his arms.
Without another thought, she wrapped both of her arms around his neck as he walked onto shore, and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She shivered as if she’d just been dunked into a tub of ice water.
“I’m taking you home so you can get into some dry clothes,” Lucien said matter-of-factly.
“I—I can walk from here,” Evee said through chattering teeth. She removed her arms from around his neck, and Lucien set her tentatively, seemingly reluctantly, on her feet.
The minute her feet touched the ground, it felt like every muscle in Evee’s body suddenly turned to mush. She felt her body go limp, but before she hit the ground, Lucien had her back in his arms again.
Neither of them spoke as Lucien walked the long distance to her home. She clung to him once more, buried her face against his chest. She felt safe in his arms, as if the bulging muscles in his arms and chest, his soft breath against her hair and face, was the safest place on earth. He never once broke stride or panted for breath as he cradled her.
It wasn’t until they’d crossed the threshold of the three-story Victorian that Evee and her sisters called home, which they’d inherited from their mother, that Lucien set her feet back on the ground. He held on to her arm, as if making sure she’d stand steady before fully releasing her.
Evee had no sooner leaned against the kitchen table to catch her breath than Hoot, her horned owl familiar, came flying into the room at full speed. He flew straight toward Lucien, swooped down onto his left shoulder and dug his talons into him.
“Let go of him now!” Evee shouted hoarsely at Hoot, shooing him away.
“He has no business being here, Evette. Make him leave,” Hoot demanded.
Evee was grateful that she was the only one, besides the Elders, who could understand her familiar. Everyone else, including Lucien, only heard squawks, squeals and chirps. She shooed at Hoot again. He remained on Lucien’s shoulder, talons digging in deeper until Lucien grimaced.
“You had no business bringing him here alone,” Hoot said. “And look at you. Just look at you. Soaking wet. What did he do to you? Did he hurt you? Are you bleeding anywhere? Have you been bruised? Damaged?”
Unable to answer Hoot’s questions without sounding like a loon, Evee said sternly, “No! Let go of him right this minute or I’ll put you in your cage.”
With a shrill shriek of anger, Hoot finally released Lucien’s shoulder and took flight, leaving the kitchen and heading for the foyer.
“That’s some pet you have there,” Lucien said, rubbing the shoulder that Hoot had dug into.
Evee sighed. “He’s my familiar and overprotective.”
“What exactly does a familiar do? Does every witch have one?”
“Most of the witches I know do. Familiars are supposed to be our eyes and ears when we’re not around. Their purpose is mostly to warn us of pending danger. Hoot does that for me, but he’s also bossy and gets carried away at times.”
Lucien gave her a small smile. “It’s nice to know you have someone looking after you.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and Evee felt her knees grow weak. Not from exhaustion this time, but from desire. It felt like desire, anyway, but could have been the aftermath of shock from the Cartesian attack and near drowning. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear her thoughts. It was then she noticed that she and Lucien were both soaking wet and dripping water all over the floor.
“There’s a shower down here if you’d like to use it,” Evee said. She pointed past the kitchen toward the front of the house. “Just past the foyer and living area is a hallway. Take a left there and you’ll find a bathroom. Last door on the right. I’ll use the one on the second floor.” As an afterthought she put a finger to her lips, then said, “I’m sorry I don’t have any dry clothes to offer you. House full of women, you know. But there’s a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door that you’re welcome to use. And back here...” Evee led him to a small room located at the far end of the kitchen near the back door. The room held a washer and dryer, utility sink and folding table. “You can just toss your clothes in the dryer while you shower.”
“Thanks,” Lucien said. “Dry sounds like a great plan. I’ll wait to shower when I go back to the hotel.”
“Y-you’re going back to the hotel?” Evee asked, then mentally admonished herself for sounding so needy.
They stood so close together in the small room that she felt Lucien’s breath as he spoke. Just being this close to him calmed her. She forgot about the wet clothes on her own body and the chill that had her shaking since Lucien pulled her from the river. His presence sent heat radiating through her body, chasing away any semblance of cold.
“If you don’t mind,” Lucien said, “I’ll dry my shirt first so you can direct me on the dryer settings.” He grinned. “Too many buttons and gadgets on that machine. Left to myself, I’d probably shrink my shirt down two sizes or nuke it into ashes.”
“No problem,” Evee said, then held her breath as Lucien reached behind his head with both hands, grabbed the back of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head.
Seeing him bare-chested with rippled abs and sculpted, muscular arms stole what little breath Evee had left. She gasped to refill her lungs. An embarrassing sound at such a wrong time.
“Are you okay?” Lucien asked, his brow knitting.
“Huh?” Evee had been so absorbed with the sight and scent of Lucien so close to her, she hadn’t heard what he’d said.
He handed her his wet shirt. “I asked if you were okay. You gasped. I was concerned it might have come from residual water from the river in your lungs.”
“No, no, I’m fine.” She took his shirt, threw it into the dryer and set the dryer on its gentle cycle so the T wouldn’t shrink, then pressed the start button.
Evee glanced back at Lucien, trying not to focus on his chest. “Your jeans are heavier material, so set the dryer on time-dry for them.” She pointed to the appropriate knob. “Both shirt and jeans will be dry before you know it.” Evee didn’t tell him what cycle would be best for his underwear. For all she knew, Lucien might be flying commando. Either way, she felt confident he’d figure it out.
Since the incident with the Cartesians and the near drowning, Evee felt out of sorts and confused. She found herself wanting, aching to feel the safety of Lucien. Just like when he’d carried her home.
She