An American Witch In Paris. Michele Hauf
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nodded. “It’s dangerous to all. In the demon’s hands, the world could be destroyed.”
Tuesday scoffed. Always so dramatic with the end-of-the-world crap. It was never a small portion of the world, but the whole thing. What kind of villain would even think to destroy a world he would like to remain on to rule? The demon couldn’t rule anything if he didn’t have followers to bow down to him. End of the world, her ass.
But then she considered what she knew about Gazariel. He was a trickster. His title was The Beautiful One. Because he was a pretty bit of charm and allure. Vain and self-serving, as well. And deadly. He liked to take advantage of a person when they were at their lowest, defeated. But most importantly, he was an asshole. And she didn’t want to get any closer to him than she already was. Wearing his sigil did not make her his bitch—so long as she kept her distance from him.
“So let me get this straight.” She walked up to the bars until the shock waves from the wards teased at her skin and lifted the hairs in her pores. Must have been warded by another dark witch with a tech edge. It messed with her personal vibrations, so she took a step back and, with a thought, pulled a white light over herself. All she could manage in this damnable cage was a weak veil, but it gave her some solace. “You want to dangle me before the demon as bait?”
The man tapped a finger against his jaw, then nodded. “Yes, that’s about it.”
She turned and paced in a half arc, hands to her hips, head down in thought. A glance to the man’s face found him stoic, trying to show her he would not back down, no matter what. Tough guy, pushing around a helpless woman. Been there, done that. Never going to let it happen again.
If she should refuse him, he would force her. And enjoy it. Typical male.
But he didn’t know Tuesday Knightsbridge at all. Helplessness was not a condition she had ever ascribed to. And that would give her the upper hand.
“Sounds like fun,” she said cheerily. “Let’s do it.”
Another man entered the clean room and Tuesday immediately felt familiar vibrations flow off of him. Another dark witch. He was tall and lean, and everything about him was black, from his long straight hair and thin mustache to his clothing. Spell tattoos covered his hands and exposed neck. A coil of thin rope was attached to his hip holster à la the Wild West. Weird. Also, he wasn’t wearing shoes.
“You’ve got her in a cage?” he said to the vampire. “What the hell?”
“She’s dangerous,” Ethan said.
Yeah, and don’t forget it, buddy. But Tuesday didn’t say that.
Instead she crossed her arms and stood in the cage center, taking in her opponents. The dark one was on alert in his movements as he walked around the cage as if sizing up an animal. Shame threatened to rise up in her. She’d been made to feel like less than dirt many times before. Always by those who claimed witches were foul and evil things, and who would seek to allay their shortcomings and misguided beliefs by harming her. But that had been centuries ago.
Would this world never get a clue and drop the old, ingrained prejudices?
“This is Certainly Jones,” Ethan said to her. “He’s head of the Archives and our resident dark witch.”
“Are you okay? Have you been treated well?” Certainly asked her. A touch of British accented his voice, and his tone felt calming.
“I’ve been kidnapped. Most likely drugged. I’m hungry. And I have to pee,” she offered. “How’s tricks with you?”
He stopped before the front of the cage and looked over his shoulder at the militant vampire. “You should feed her. And let her go to the bathroom.”
“As soon as we’ve shackled her, she can do whatever she desires.”
“Shackle?” Tuesday closed her eyes, fisting her fingers at her sides. “What the hell is going on?”
“We need you to work for us. You’ve agreed, saying it would be fun,” Ethan said. “But in order to work alongside me you’ll have to be out of this cage. And I can’t risk you running off or using your magic against me. CJ here has a simple shackle spell that’ll keep you subdued.”
“You are a—” She lunged, aiming to grasp through the cage bars, but too late, she remembered it was electrified. The jolt sent her flying backward again to land on her back in a sprawl. “I hate you!”
“I don’t need you to like me. I just need you to help me find Gazariel.”
“Stop saying that bastard’s name,” she said from her position on the floor. Humiliated and utterly exhausted, she wasn’t about to pull herself up until he gave her a good reason to do so.
“Saying the demon’s name won’t invoke him,” Certainly said.
“I know that. I just hate his name. You think the two of us were friends? That’s why I’m wearing his sigil?” Letting her head fall back, she flipped them both the bird from the floor.
“She’s definitely going to be a handful,” Certainly commented. “Open the cage and let me in. I’ve got this rope bespelled to shackle her.”
The dark witch was coming inside with her? Well...she wasn’t in the mood to fight him. And he thought to shackle her with a rope spell? That wasn’t going to go as successfully for him as he expected. Tuesday decided to play along. Just for giggles.
The bars suddenly flickered with static and then Tuesday felt the electric energy shut off. The cage door swung open with a creak. She remained splayed on the floor as the dark witch stepped up into the cage and padded over and stood above her. The door closed and she heard the vampire twist the lock then tap in a digital code.
“I’m sorry about this,” Certainly said. “I know you didn’t ask for this, but sometimes things have to be done to ensure worse things don’t happen.”
“Now you’re going to tell me not to blame you and that we can all get along, right? Peace, love and ‘Kumbaya’? Get it done with, witch. I do need to use the facilities.”
“Will you stand, please?”
Tuesday held up her hand and gestured for him to grab it to help her stand. As he did so, she felt his magic jolt against her own. He was strong, but not as powerful as her. But he was cute, and she had a plan, so she was going to let him off easy. Mostly. And hell, she wasn’t sure she could even invoke her magic inside this crazy warded cage. But she wouldn’t be Tuesday Knightsbridge if she didn’t give it a go.
She slapped her palms to his temples and fixed her gaze onto his intense jade eyes. Before he knew to look away she fixed onto his soul. It was a witch’s skill, to hold a soul fix on another witch. She felt his inner struggle, his need to close his eyes and lock her out. But she had been doing this far too long to allow anyone escape from her delving soul gaze.
The witch’s soul was dark to the core. Less than two centuries old, he’d walked a free and defiant path. He was...connected closely to another. A twin? Yes, he had a twin brother for whom he held great love and respect. He’d once carried dozens of demons within him after a trip to Daemonia. Some of those demons had made him hurt himself. Others had taught him to care more deeply than he could have fathomed. And...the man loved deeply. Another witch, who was mother to his one-year-old twin sons.
That feeling, the emotion of unconditional love that flooded the man’s system, pricked at Tuesday’s willpower. She winced, fearing what may happen should she allow herself to linger in his eyes. To fall into the deep and devastating emotion of love.
Tuesday released the man and he stumbled backward, catching himself before he hit the bars.
“What did she do to you?” Ethan asked from outside