mythean arcana 07 - witchs fate (10 page)

She didn’t sense any arrogance in him now, though she wouldn’t be surprised if she had. Controlling a portal to the aether on your own took a huge amount of strength. He was even stronger than she’d realized. 

She shivered. His strength, combined with the way he looked at her—like he wanted to devour her—was nerve wracking. If he didn’t want to let her go once this was over, she’d have a damned hard time getting away.

She’d just better hope he kept helping her. And figure out a way to force his hand if he reneged. Or tried to keep her.

“We need to plan our story for when we’re in Salem,” she said. “I don’t think we can just walk in there and say we want to find the most powerful witches in town.”

He nodded. “Let’s plan while eating. I’m starving.”

She followed him down the hall to a huge kitchen, Kitty at her side. Sweeping counters were topped with tall windows that looked out on the Glencoe Mountains. On the other side of the kitchen, a large hearth burst into flame. It was like something out of a magazine.

Sofia couldn’t take her gaze off Malcolm as he walked to the huge, stainless-steel refrigerator and pulled open the door. His slacks were expensive and tailored to fit him perfectly. The sleeves of the black sweater he wore were pushed up to reveal strong forearms and big hands. It hugged his strong shoulders and fit his waist perfectly. He looked like a billionaire on vacation. The wide metal cuff gleamed dully on his wrist. 

It had been a good idea on his part. Her level of power wasn’t quite enough to cause alarm in most Mytheans. She was on the stronger end of the spectrum—able to cause destruction and come up with some pretty nasty spells—but Malcolm’s was the kind that made people run. Especially since, as a warlock, he specialized in destruction.

“Are omelets all right?” He turned to glance at her.

Damn. She wished he weren’t so handsome. The dichotomy of his big, muscular body and his elegant features was enough to make her head spin. “Yeah, fine.”

He pulled out ingredients and put them on the counter. Grabbed two fine plates from a cabinet below the counter, then waved his hand over the lot. A second later, a steaming omelet sat on each plate. 

Neat trick. “Not much for cooking?”

“Cooking for one is a bit of a bore, isn’t it?” he asked, then pulled forks out of the drawer in front of him. He picked up the plates and approached her. He nodded to the space behind her. “We’ll sit there.” 

Sofia turned and went to the delicate wooden table in an alcove surrounded by windows. The mountains stretched out before her, their rounded tops glittering with snow. 

Malcolm put the plates on the table. Kitty hopped up onto a chair.

He glanced at her. “Hang on.”

He walked back to the ingredients, pulled out another plate, and made another omelet. He returned and set it in front of kitty.

“Thanks,” Sofia said. 

Kitty meowed.

Malcolm shrugged, then turned back to the counter and got down two coffee mugs and a bag of coffee grounds. He filled the cups with water, then waved his hand over them. A second later, they were full of steaming coffee. “Cream or sugar?”

“Neither.” She took the cup gratefully and sipped. Not bad. “So, what’s our cover in Salem? It’s a small, notoriously tight community. They’ll notice strangers. Most of Salem is mortal, but I’ve heard that the Mytheans have their own secret street. Mortals can’t see it, but it’s hard for even Mytheans to find.”

He sat and took a bite of his omelet, met her gaze while he chewed. She tried hers. Also not bad. Kitty was scarfing it down, so she clearly approved. Familiars weren’t normal cats, thank fates, so their diet could consist of pretty much anything.

After he swallowed, he said, “What if you’re looking for your sister? You’ve heard recently that you have a half-sister who is a witch with the Salem coven.”

She thought about it. “Not bad. It’s not out of the realm of possibility, so it could work. You’re my, what? Bodyguard?”

“I was thinking—man. I’m your man. You don’t go anywhere without me.” His gaze was serious. Dark and intense.

Her stomach muscles fluttered. “How about personal assistant?”

He laughed, his gaze lightening. He looked surprised. At his own laughter?

His gaze turned serious then. “I think not. I’m your man.”

It was a loaded sentence she didn’t want to explore. She also didn’t want to argue. They needed to get started. “Fine. Whatever.”

She polished off her omelet quickly, swigged the rest of her coffee, then stood. He rose and stepped toward her, his clean, spicy scent sweeping over her. She wanted to breathe him in forever. 

Bad idea. And his clean smell only reminded her that she hadn’t showered in ages. She hadn’t even changed. She’d just gotten out of bed and gone to seek him out.

She definitely had a problem. 

“I need a quick shower,” she said. “Is there a bathroom attached to the green room?”

“There is.”

She left without another word, her nerves twisted into knots over the way he made her feel. Eating with him had reminded her of what they’d once had. True, it had been far more fraught with tension this time, but it had taken her back to quiet meals with him at Corrier’s home. They’d fallen for each other during those long nights. 

He’d been a different man then. Happier. He’d never been a jokester, but he hadn’t been entirely serious and dark. She’d never failed to get a laugh out of him if she wanted to. As she’d done this morning, in fact. She hadn’t meant the personal assistant bit as a joke. Not really.

But she’d liked it when he’d laughed.

Idiot.
He didn’t deserve her soft thoughts. Nor could she afford them.

Pushing thoughts of him from her mind, she raced up the stairs to the green bedroom and found her way to the bathroom.

Whoa. The castle might be old, but the bathroom certainly wasn’t. Marble and wood gleamed. An enormous shower beckoned.

She made quick work of washing up, though in any other circumstance she would have hung out a lot longer. Maybe tried out the huge sunken tub.

A wave of her wand gave her fresh clothes and a warm jacket. 

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Holy shit, it’s cold here,” Sofia said.

A grin cracked Malcolm’s face as he glanced at her. Surprised, he almost reached up to touch his own cheek. It was the second today. A record. 

They stood in an alley near Salem’s main street, having just aetherwalked from his home.

“I suppose you don’t get out of the jungle much,” he said. She wore a puffy brown jacket that somehow still managed to highlight her curves. He still wasn’t used to actually seeing her. After so long apart, it was hard to keep his gaze off her.

Kitty stood at her side, scowling. The familiar didn’t like the cold either.

“Not to cold places,” she said. “How is it colder here than in Scotland?”

“Gulf stream. But it’s not much worse. You’re just used to the jungle.”

“True.” She set off down the alley, her footsteps silent on the cobblestone.

They walked out onto a residential street. Behind them were shops. Being one of America’s older cities, Salem was a mix of long-standing houses and shops pressed up against one another.

“Looks like a Halloween bomb exploded here,” Sofia said, surveying the street avidly.

Malcolm dragged his gaze from her. Red, orange, and yellow leaves rustled in the trees and floated through the air to land on the brick walkway beneath their feet. The homes on the other side of the street were all New England charm. Clapboard fronts with jack-o-lanterns on the stoops and a mishmash of other Halloween decorations. Two women in witch hats giggled as they walked down the other sidewalk.

“Mortals,” Sofia said. “I hear they like it here around Halloween. It’s commercial, but the magic beneath it all is what draws them, I think.”

“Makes sense. Some mortals are sensitive to it.” Though they had no idea that another world existed alongside their own, full of real witches and things that went bump in the night.

“Let’s see if we can find the entrance to the Mythean street. Salem Hollow, I think it’s called.”

They turned and headed up the street. A black wooden building sat on the corner. With a steep roof, an overhanging second floor, and mullioned windows, it looked to be from the seventeenth century.

“Creepy,” Sofia said.

“From the witch hunts, no doubt,” Malcolm said. Evil lurked around the place. The two giggling mortals who stood in the front yard of the ancient building beneath a brilliant red-leafed tree didn’t appear to feel it.

The house was a reminder of Salem’s dark history, though the place was entirely different now. The streets were brightly festooned with Halloween garlands and jack-o-lanterns. An emblem of a flying witch was emblazoned on dozens of surfaces—signs, shop windows, cars. It was cheerful in a way that its history was not.

Sofia shook herself. “Come on, let’s go find Salem Hollow. Maybe things will feel more normal there.”

They made their way down a street lined with stores. Mortals in costumes bustled down the street. Magic shops butted up against t-shirt stores and bars. Wooden folding signs for psychic readings sat on the sidewalk and tour guides hustled for patrons.

“This is… interesting,” Malcolm said. It made him itch, being so close to so many mortals. Two screaming children dressed as demons raced down the sidewalk in front of him.

“That’s one word for it. It’s really very charming,” Sofia said. “Let’s go in here. This shop has potential. I’d bet dollars to donuts we’ll find Mytheans peddling goods to mortals in a few of these places. They can tell us where to find Salem Hollow.”

Malcolm ducked through the low doorway behind her. The shop was small, with bundled herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling and candles and knickknacks on every surface. Books crowded the two tables inside. Wicca, or whatever it was the mortal witches practiced, was obviously the theme of this particular shop. 

He sensed no magic within. The proprietress, a blond woman wearing layered skirts and about a dozen scarves, smiled at him. He nodded at her, then caught Sofia’s eye. She nodded briefly, and after a moment of browsing, they turned and left.

“All right, that was a bust,” Sofia said. “I mean, if I wanted my house to smell nice, that’s the place I’d try. But for anything more than that? Nah.”

It took them three more shops before they found one that reeked of magic. Black and red candles burned in the window and pentagrams were painted on the glass. He pushed open the heavy door and held it for Sofia, then followed her inside. 

The interior was dark and cramped. It screamed black magic—or at least, what mortals thought black magic might be. Crystals and candles decorated the shelves, along with animal bones and vials of brightly colored liquid. Fog drifted along the floor, coming from a black door in the back. 

A young, dark-haired demon from an unidentifiable afterworld sat on a stool behind the narrow counter, snapping her gum and reading a book. She glanced up when the door shut, her eyes widening slightly behind black-framed glasses. She looked like something out of the 1950’s, with bouffant hair and red lips.

“Can I help you?” she asked. “You’re not from around here.”

“No, I’m not,” Malcolm said. “What’s a demon doing selling spells and trinkets to mortals?”

“Gotta make a living. And besides, they’ll pay out the nose for this crap. I stay away from the Wicca stuff. Respect their religion and all that—I’m not a monster.”

“What do you sell?”

She shrugged. “Folks who frequent my fair establishment aren’t interested in mortal witchcraft. They just want to curse their colleagues and make people fall in love with them. So I don’t exactly feel guilty about selling them a bullshit spell and a black candle.”

“Fair enough,” Malcolm said.

“What are you?” Her green gaze darted to Sofia. “She’s a witch. What kind, I don’t know. But I can’t tell with you.”

Good. The charm was working. “Sorcerer. We’d like to find Salem Hollow.”

“Oh? Why’s that? You know we locals like to keep that on the down low. Hard to hide the street from mortals if we have all kinds of strangers coming and going.”

“We’ll be subtle. My friend here is looking for someone.”

“How do you know you’ll find them in the Hollow?”

“A hunch.”

“Hmm. Well, it’ll cost you.”

“How much?”

Her gaze ran up and down his form. “Thirty minutes in the back.”

“That’s quite the offer.” 

She smiled. Before it could fade from her lips, he slipped the charmed cuff off his wrist and reached out to touch her temple, sending a burst of his magic and will into her mind that broke down her barriers.

He lowered his hand. “Do you know anything about the Salem Coven?”

In a slightly wooden voice, she said, “They live here. Not sure where. No one really knows.”

“No?”

“No. They keep to themselves. Not all witches are part of the Salem Coven, though. Only twelve. Maybe thirteen. No one is quite sure. They’re secretive.”

“Where’s Salem Hollow?”

“Off Derby Street. In front of the water. To the right of the old Custom’s House, there’s a row of shops and bars. Next to the Witch’s Brew Cafe, you’ll find an alley. There’s a gate within—looks like it leads to a basement apartment. It’s fairly well hidden. Push the gate with your right hand to enter. Mytheans will walk onto Hollow Lane. Mortals will just walk into a small empty courtyard.”