[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

love with him?
54
Six
Who coined the phrase  falling in love? It s more like
rocketing down a ski hill in a little red wagon.
 Umm, Jean?
He snuggled closer, murmuring a string of French words
she couldn t decipher.
Not that she didn t like the way one hand massaged her
ass cheek while the other strummed her spine, but didn t
they have more important things to worry about? Like
getting out of town before being shot at, burned, or
whatever atrocity Persephone might have in mind? Jean
nibbled on her ear. Damn romantic. How d he managed to
stay alive for four hundred years?
Still trapped in the circle of his arms, she drew back far
enough to get his attention. His gaze lowered to her breasts.
She slapped him on the ass.  Focus.
He blinked and stared at her with innocent eyes.  I am.
 Villagers. Torches. Wolves. Ring any bells? She tried
not to breathe while she spoke. The rolling of her breasts
seemed to act like a hypnotist s coin.
 All of them, he replied, gaze still centered on her
breasts.
She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at
her.  You can play with them later. How do we get out of
here and where are we going?
Sighing, he pulled back and sat up. The sheets puddled
around his waist where his very alert manhood bobbed like a
fabric-draped B movie ghost. Now her attention was
diverted. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
55
 You are incorrigible, Madame. He grinned, showing his
fangs.  And yes, it is Madame for you are mine now. His
eyes dared her to argue.
She rolled hers. Madame. Mademoiselle. Whatever. As
long as he kept his French ass alive, she didn t care what he
called her.
He rose from the bed with the grace a ballerina or gay
male dancer would envy and strode to the covered window.
Peeking through the crack, he muttered a curse.  I believe I
underestimated their resourcefulness.
Clutching the sheet to her chest, she dragged it to the
window with her. She glanced outside. Lit black candles
ringed the house. Wolves lolled here and there, acting as
lookouts. She recognized two men.
 I thought you said Bremmer and Willie were dead.
 They are.
She stared at the familiar figures. Willie s head tilted at
an odd angle, as if he d decided to look at the world from a
horizontal position, ear resting on his shoulder. He moved
with a hitch, using an old-style straw broom to keep his
balance. Others strolled behind him, faces and shapes hidden
by black cloaks. She was too far away to make out the
silvery symbols lining the edges of their cloaks.
Bremmer walked alone, a sword held in one hand, a
clump of weeds in the other.
She pulled back.  I don t understand.
 They devoted their lives to Persephone. Hell s guard
dog Garm will not let their souls pass until they complete her
task.
 To kill us.
He met her gaze, expression carefully blank.  Yes.
She didn t like the idea of fighting the people she d
grown up with.  So can we turn into bats or mist and just fly
away?
His eyebrows vanished beneath a mop of curls.  Where
did you get such nonsense?
She waved.  Never mind.
 We must fight magic with magic. He returned to the
bed. Rummaging beneath it, he drew out several boxes.
 Your uncle left us another treasure. Rebecca Park s Book of
Shadows. He handed her a heavy leather bound tome.
56
She looked at him, expression blank.
 The witch queen s diary. We need a god or goddess at
our back. She must have detailed the ritual she performed to
invoke Persephone s aid.
 What about Uncle Albert? Maybe we could find him.
Another person on our side can t hurt. His sympathetic gaze
unnerved her. She rambled on.  Bremmer said he staked
him. So we just have to dig him up, pull out the stake 
Jean put a finger to her lips.  We are unique, ma moitié.
Most of our kind, once staked, are simply no more. The
goddess s curse has given us an advantage. It will take
stakes in both of our hearts before we are forced to depart to
the netherworld. Heaven or Hell or whatever place your
religion leans toward.
So Uncle Albert was really dead. She sighed. And she
had two lives to squander before she d truly be dead too.
First, though, they had to get out of Lark Creek alive, er,
whatever. She sat in the plush chair, the book balanced in
her lap. Jean nodded encouragingly. She cracked the book.
The handwriting flowed directly from a penmanship
teacher s bible. She could almost hear the sound the ink-
dipped pen made as it scrawled across the pages.
Illustrations peppered the pages, ranging from the diagram
of a flower to the detailed contents of a cat s stomach. She
flipped through the book, searching for a year or some sort
of date. Everything referenced the time of the moon.
A pain ripped through her chest. She coughed, hand to
breast. She couldn t get air. Jean put his hands on her
shoulders, linking them. The suffocating feeling retreated.
 What the 
 Bremmer. His lips pressed tight, face paler than
normal.  Calling. Yanking Persephone s power through us.
She hurried through the book.  What about conjuring a
ghoul? They like dead people, don t they?
 What do you think we are?
 Good point.
Peering over her shoulder, he jabbed at a page.  Here.
He fetched another box.  I recognize the ingredients. Albert
must have been trying to invoke the same spell.
She shuddered. Had her uncle lived through a similar
hunt, sitting alone in his hidden room, waiting for them to
57
find him? He d failed. What made Jean think she d have
better luck?
Jean arranged a small ring of purple candles around
them. Whispering a word, they lit.
 Neat trick.
He shrugged. The slight smile didn t reach his eyes. He
sprinkled oil and crushed herbs over them. The dried herbs
drifted in the air like dead man s confetti. She sneezed.
The pulling sensation vanished. She wished she could
see the expression on Bremmer s face now.
Jean s hands rested on her shoulders again.  Albert
failed because he was a man.
She bit her lip.  I m not a witch.
 Her blood flows through you. He paused.  Or it did.
She didn t want to think about that. She put her finger
on the page, marking the words.  Okay. Here goes. Ab ovo
usque ad mala.
 From beginning to end, Jean translated.  Demeter to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]