An American Witch In Paris

“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 the cage.

“I’m...fine,” Certainly said, catching his hands on his knees and huffing. It took a lot out of a person to have his soul tapped. “She just...”

“I looked into his soul,” Tuesday explained to Ethan. “I like this one. He’s strong.” She pointed at the vampire. “You. I do not like.”

“We’ve already discussed our mutual lack of admiration for one another. Like isn’t a requirement to work together. You going to be okay, CJ?”

The dark witch nodded. “Yep. Just gathering back my wits.” He straightened and snapped the simple rope before him in warning. “You going to behave?”

Tuesday nodded. “I saw your wife. You love her very much.”

“I would die for her,” Certainly said with an ease that tugged at Tuesday’s hardened heart. Because she believed that he would. What a lucky woman.

Romantics and silly sops would have a person believe love was the be-all and end-all. Whatever.

“Get on with it.”

She held her hands before her, wrists together, waiting to be bound. The rope wouldn’t impact her movement or physical health. It would keep her from performing any sort of magic, hex, spell or charm. But if the rope was damaged after the spell had been cast...

“On second thought,” she said, “it’ll work better if you drape it across my chest.”

“Across your heart,” Certainly said. “Good idea. And you will need the use of your hands.” He lowered the lariat over her head and rested it on a shoulder, then draped it across her heart to fall between her breasts. “You’re going to have to remove the crystal.”

“I never take it off.”

“The spell won’t fix otherwise.”

She shook her head and clasped the cool obsidian.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Certainly asked.

“Did they drug me?” she asked quietly. “Just tell me what they used to incapacitate me.”

“I don’t know for sure. Henbane, possibly?”

Tuesday nodded. Henbane, when mixed with a vile adjuvant, could take out a witch for the better part of a day. Damn it! Her wards should have caught that.

Certainly Jones could prove an ally if she played her cards right. But for now she must submit in order to gain freedom. She pulled the leather cord from around her neck and handed it to him. “That must be returned to me immediately.”

“It will. You’ll be able to wear it after I’ve cast the spell.” He tucked the crystal in his front pocket, then jumped a little in reaction.

“It’s not yours to possess,” Tuesday warned. “It will come back to me quickly.”

“I get that.” He tapped the rope. “This will shackle your magic only against Ethan Pierce. You will still be able to wield magic in all other instances. It may be necessary to protect yourself against the demon.”

“I appreciate that. What the hell is that guy?”

Certainly looked over a shoulder. Ethan paced, arms across his chest.

“Vampire.”

“I know that. I mean, what’s his deal? He’s so...angry.”

“Really? This coming from the angriest witch I’ve ever met?”

“You guys did kidnap me.”

“Point taken. Don’t give Pierce such a hard time. He generally works behind the desk telling others what to do. But I think this time it’s personal.”

“How so?”

Certainly shrugged. “Not sure. And even if I did have a clue? That’s for him to give to you, not me. Close your eyes.”

Tuesday did so because she was tired and wanted to get out of this stupid cage. Much as shackling her magic against anyone would piss her off, at the very least he wasn’t completely disabling her.

The witch chanted a spell that caused the rope to suddenly squeeze about her. She felt the sigil beneath her shirt warm and reach out for the rope. It didn’t like being controlled. Which was a good thing. And she counted on its retaliation.

In a matter of moments the witch said, “So mote it be.”

And the rope fell slack again, as if an ill-hung necklace. Tuesday let out a breath. Her skin tingled, but otherwise, she didn’t feel any different. In the next instant, the obsidian on the cord flew out from the witch’s pocket and landed smartly in Tuesday’s grasp.

The cage door opened and Ethan asked, “How will we know it worked?”

“It worked.” CJ stepped out of the cage. “My magic always works.” He winked at Tuesday. “I’m sorry, but the rope is the shackle. You’ll have to figure out your own style for that.” He turned to Ethan. “You going to take her upstairs for a bit, then...off to adventure?”

The men shared a look that was a few seconds too long for Tuesday not to wonder what had gone unspoken.

“Right,” Ethan suddenly said. “I’ve got some things to finish up in the office. Come on, witch.”

“Really? You’re going to let your new pet out on a leash?” She flopped the lariat around before her. “Aren’t you the kindest master ever.”

“Good luck,” CJ said and wandered out of the room.

“Get out of the cage, witch.”

She stepped up to the threshold. “My name is Tuesday. Treat me well and I will return the kindness.”

Ethan nodded. “Lead me to the demon and I’ll be more than grateful.”

“I’m not going to lead you anywhere without cold hard cash.”

“What?”

“You think I’m going to do this for nothing? Slavery went out last century. If you want me to cooperate we need to talk money.” She jumped down onto the concrete floor, blessedly relieved to have left the smothering confines of that magic-busting cage. With a shiver and a flip of her hair over her shoulder, she walked up to the man.

He stood a head higher than her, but she was accustomed to looking up to people, mostly men. Her stance spoke louder than her lacking height.

“How much do you want?” he asked, surprising her that he hadn’t argued.

“A million. US dollars, not your freaky French euros.”

He broke out into throaty laughter that, in any other circumstance, might have grasped her by the lusting heart and teased her to flutter her lashes at him. But this was not any other time. With a flick of her forefinger, Tuesday tossed a beam of pain at the vampire. The magic burst into a spray of violet sparks just inches from his face and dispersed.

Damn shackle.

“Good to see CJ’s spell works,” he said. “Tough luck, witch. I’m impervious to your magic now.”

Only so long as the shackle stayed in place. And her sigil was so hot that it could burn through pretty much anything right now...

“Half a million then,” she said.

“Ten grand.”

Tuesday spun and jumped up into the cage opening. “I think I’ll stay here then. Apparently, I’m the only one who can do what you need done. I’m worth more than a few bucks. You think about it, then get back to me.”

“I’ve got a budget, witch.”

“And I’ve got all the time in the world. Do you?”

He rubbed his stubble-shadowed jaw. Tuesday rather liked it when a man tickled his stubble over her skin, as his gaze journeyed down her stomach and lower. And his beard was frosted with a touch of grey in the dark brown, which added a delicious seasoning to his appearance. If the man wasn’t so obstinate he’d actually be sexy.

“A hundred thousand,” he offered. “That’s as high as I can go.”

“Deal.” Tuesday jumped down again and marched past him toward the door. She would have taken the ten grand. “Let’s get out of this dungeon. Did you forget I need to pee?”

* * *

The witch had gone into the private bathroom attached to the office Ethan occupied in headquarters. There were no windows in the small washroom for her to escape through, so he trusted her to shut the door.

Meanwhile, he checked his email. No new orders waiting for retrieval assignment. And he’d sent details regarding his taking this particular mission to the Council. No reply, so far, was good news.

He glanced to the maple-wood bathroom door. He and CJ had only planned things so far. And that plan hadn’t quite come to complete fruition. It would, soon enough. He wasn’t sure how he was going to work with the witch.

She was obstinate. A smart-ass. And he hadn’t expected her to be gorgeous. Utterly beautiful. In a weird, silver Goth sort of way. Behind her defensive, smart mouth and angry rubber band-snapping machinations he felt sure a sensual goddess inhabited the irresistible curves and gemstone blue eyes.

He raked fingers through his hair and shook his head. What was he thinking? He needed to do this right. He was the boss. And he wasn’t about to show weakness or failure to his employees by letting his thoughts stray from the task at hand.

He’d handle the witch with a strong hand and command. He had to stay on guard with her. To set an example for others. But it would prove a challenge, not only because of her odd appeal, but also because it had been so long since he’d actually worked a mission. If she learned that he was questioning his own abilities—and thus had taken the job to prove he wasn’t washed up and was physically capable of handling such a mission—he’d never succeed.

* * *

They headed out, Tuesday following Ethan’s sure gait. It was a confident walk. A sexy walk. After many turns and an elevator ride down four floors, the sight of a door up ahead gave her great glee. Soon.

She pressed her hand over the shackle rope, which she’d been holding snug against the sigil. The rope fibers were hot and smoldering. It was working.

“I don’t live far from here. We’ll walk,” Ethan said.

He’d mentioned they would discuss a plan for capturing the demon. Why they didn’t simply do it in his office was beyond her, but she appreciated the opportunity to get out of the building. And away.

He opened a heavy steel door. Bright daylight filtered in, making Tuesday blink. She had lost all concept of time, and even though her muscles were dragging her downward from exhaustion, the crisp winter air, inhaled deeply, worked to lighten her. And keep her focused. Tugging her coat closed, but keeping one hand inside on the shackling rope, she followed the vampire outside.

They exited into a narrow, cobblestone alleyway. Ethan turned left.

Tuesday turned right and started to run. She made it ten feet, pulling away the rope that had burned apart thanks to the demon sigil, and dropped it behind her. But as her speed increased and she began to pump her arms, her body collided with an invisible wall, slamming her backward to land in the arms of Ethan Pierce.

“I expected as much,” he said. A flash of his bright smile did not give her any mirth. “So did CJ. The rope was merely a distraction until CJ had time to work up a stronger spell.”

“Bastard,” she muttered, and collapsed in his arms.

Chapter 3

The steel door through which they’d exited opened and the dark witch swung out with urgency. He lifted his hand, exposing the glowing spell tattoos that covered his palm. As he approached, he asked Ethan, “You sure about this, man?”

“Nope. But someone’s got to do it. So do your darkest.”

“Oh, no.” Not knowing what was coming, but not stupid, either, Tuesday struggled out of Ethan’s grasp.

The vampire stretched back an arm toward his approaching cohort while he managed to hold her by the coat with his other hand. She wasn’t going to let whatever might happen...happen.

She began to speak a deflection spell, but a slash of Certainly’s hand caused Tuesday’s words to suddenly jumble and drop in the air. He’d deflected her deflection. He was stronger than she’d anticipated.

With his full body, the vampire crushed her against the brick wall. She kicked, unwilling to be contained. Suddenly, she smelled blood. What the—? The dark witch grabbed her wrist and an icy pain seared the center of her palm. A coppery scent filled the air. He was invoking blood magic?

“No!”

Kicking, Tuesday hit Ethan’s gut, but the vampire lunged forward and slapped his hand into hers. Heat from his blood mingled with hers. The dark witch held their hands together and recited a simple incantation that she recognized as a binder.

Tuesday growled, but the exhaustion from what she’d been through since sitting in the bar—back in the United States—had depleted her magic. The blood spell coursed through her system, and she felt it bite at her neck from the inside. Certainly Jones’s dark and masterful magic bound her to the vampire. They would not be able to leave one another’s side, nor would they be able to harm one another.

“This is the only blood you’ll ever get from me,” the vampire said on a low, accusing tone.

With a shout for survival, Tuesday pushed away from her captor with a shove of her free hand to his chest. The dark witch stepped away, allowing her to stumble against the wall. She caught her hands flat on the rough brick behind her, cursed, then watched as the knife wound sealed in a glow of violet on her palm.

“Had to be done,” Certainly commented.

“How close do we have to stay to one another now?” Ethan asked, as if he’d only been given a simple handshake.

“Not sure. Try it out.”

“Try running off,” Ethan said to her. “See how far you get.”

“Try fucking yourself, vampire.”

“Like I said, she’s going to be a challenge,” Certainly said.

“Challenge accepted. I’ll start walking home,” Ethan said. “We’ll see how far I get before you have no choice but to follow.” He slapped a hand into the dark witch’s. “Thanks, CJ.”

Ethan strolled off down the alley. And Tuesday tugged her coat up and adjusted her hair. She pointed an accusing finger at Certainly. “You, Jones, are on my shit list.”

He shrugged. “I honor your power, Tuesday Knightsbridge. You are an old and strong witch. But I can feel your darkness is even greater than mine.”

“Yeah? Warlock’s looking pretty good right about now.” If she grievously harmed another witch the warlock title would be slapped on her. “That would really put you in your place.”

“As well, it would put you in a place you don’t want to stand. Don’t let it overwhelm you, Tuesday. Remember what you once were.”

Really? The man was trying the New Age-y bullshit on her? “You know nothing about me.”

“No, but I saw into your soul when you were looking into mine.” He bowed his head toward her. “I am sorry for the things you have suffered because of what we are.”

Yeah, so witches had been a favorite cat’s-paw over the centuries. She’d survived, and she would continue to so do thanks to her hardened heart.

Suddenly, Tuesday’s body jerked forward. Certainly stepped aside and they both looked down the alley. Ethan stood about fifty yards off. He gave them a thumbs-up.

And when he started walking again, Tuesday was pulled after him.

“Shit list!” she called back to Certainly, who had the decency to place his palms together and bow to her in reverence.

* * *

Ethan chuckled to himself as the witch reluctantly followed him down the street to his place in the eleventh arrondissement. He lived in a third-floor loft close to Père Lachaise cemetery, which boasted an excellent view of Sacré Coeur up on the hill.

He left the front door open behind him, not feeling the need to wait on the witch. She’d stand back just to piss him off, surely. He tossed his keys onto the gray granite kitchen counter and kicked off his shoes, then wandered through the living area. With a few words to the electronic house butler—“Stuart, modify for sun”—the electrochromic shades fixed between the double windowpanes that looked out over the city adjusted to a soft white that would allow in light but not the UV rays that gave him the most caution.

The layout of the loft was open—no walls, save the ones enclosing the bathroom. Strolling through the living room, around a corner and through the bedroom, he went into the bathroom but left the door open behind him. “Stuart, warm water.” Ethan splashed water on his face, then manually twisted off the faucet and took a few deep breaths.

He opened his palm. The cut CJ had given him had already healed. Sharing blood with the witch hadn’t been as horrible as he’d expected. Remnants of fear over the once-poisonous witch blood remained. He’d have to get over it. And fast. If the demon was a blood demon, surely much blood would be spilled in the coming days. The witch’s. And the demon’s. Ethan wasn’t willing to give any more than the few drops he’d provided today.

He liked blood. As sustenance. But he never drank witch’s blood, even since the Great Protection Spell had been broken. It couldn’t harm him now. And there were even some vampires who liked drinking from witches. If you added in sex and a specific spell for bloodsexmagic, the vampire could steal some of that witch’s magic for himself.

He had no desire to own magic. But to taste the witch’s blood? He couldn’t shake the scent of her blood as it had trickled into the air in the alley outside headquarters. It had roused him so much in that moment that he’d used violence and had shoved her roughly to hide his burgeoning desires. He hoped she wouldn’t bleed near him again.

That would prove a challenge.

“Honey, I’m home!”

He shook his head, but no reflection in the mirror showed his exasperation. CJ had warned she would be a struggle. But that was a challenge he welcomed. Now, to work with the witch.

Tuesday had shucked off her coat and now reclined on the leather sofa that sat against a rough brick wall. She’d kicked off her shoes and waggled her bare toes—the nails were painted bright blue—as she stretched out her arms and yawned. The black shirt had a button below her breasts and was open from there down, revealing abs. And much more skin than he wanted to notice right now.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Unlike vampires, we witches do need a little shut-eye now and then. And after all the torments I’ve endured?”

“Why don’t you take twenty minutes to rest? Stuart, close the shades completely.”

As the windows darkened, Tuesday sat up and glanced over a shoulder. “Who the hell is Stuart? A house brownie?”

Ethan chuckled. “A bit similar. That’s the name of the electronic house butler. This place is high-tech. If you need something, Stuart can usually get it.”

“Stuart, book me a flight back to Boston, STAT,” Tuesday said.

As the butler began to confirm, Ethan canceled that request. “And ignore all requests from any voice but my own,” he ordered.

“Of course,” Stuart replied.

“That’s creepy.” Tuesday lay back down and crossed her arms over her chest. “And so not fair.”

“While you rest I’m going to make a few calls. Plan our first move.”

“You don’t have a plan?”

“Of course I do,” he lied. Sitting before the kitchen counter with his back to her, he pushed aside her spangled coat. A pad of paper and a pen waited near the phone. He was all about the high-tech, but he’d never give up the landline. “You want a blanket or something?”

“Fuck you, Richard.” And she turned over on the sofa and snuggled up in a ball.

Again with the Richard? He thought about it a few seconds. Ah. Richard shortened was... All righty then. He shouldn’t expect her to think very highly of him after having one of his retrievers kidnap her and fly her across the ocean. And then forcibly bind her to him.

He may have to find a means to cozy up to her in order to get her to trust him or he’d never get anywhere with her. At the very least, he needed her to want to trust him.

Pulling out his cell phone, he scrolled through the contacts. He knew the person he had to speak to first to learn anything about any demon in Paris.

* * *

Edamite Thrash was a sort of demon overlord with a penchant for niceness. But Ethan didn’t tell anyone that, or Thrash would scratch you with the poison thorns that grew from his knuckles. The man was a corax demon, which meant he could shift into an unkindness of ravens and take to the skies. He also made it his job to oversee the demons of Paris, knowing who was where, and when and why. He kept a loose rein on his species, and enforced punishment only when one of them threatened to expose their kind with their foolish actions.

Ethan knew most of the major players in the paranormal realm who inhabited Paris. That was his job, to know whom he could trust and with whom he had best watch his back. Ed was trustworthy.

The dark feather tattoo on Ed’s neck always drew Ethan’s eye. He wore many sigils tattooed on his skin, and combined with his standard dark business suit and smartly parted and slicked black hair, he looked dangerous yet disturbingly GQ stylish.

He shook the man’s hand, noting he always wore black leather half gloves that exposed his fingers. He needed only cover the thorns on his knuckles to prevent an accident.

“Good to see you, man.” Ed nodded over Ethan’s shoulder. “Who is this pretty?”