Pyromancist (41 page)

Clelia rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs.
“It’s all very sudden. Can I think about it, discuss it with
Josselin?”

“I’m leaving after dinner,” Cain said. “I’m
afraid time is a luxury I can’t afford to give you. I have a
meeting with the sponsors of the organization in a few hours and
they want your answer.”

Josselin took her hand and rubbed his thumb
over her palm. There was sympathy in his gaze, and regret, as if he
was to blame.

“How would I enhance your team?” Clelia
said.

“In any way you can,” Cain said. “Maya uses
water when she must. Lann manipulates air. Your specialty will be
fire. I understand how frustrating this must be for you, but I
cannot give you more information without compromising the
organization. I’m afraid if you come on board, it’s in good faith.
It’s a little bit like taking a journey blindfolded. All you have
to believe in, is what we stand and fight for.”

Clelia’s gaze was drawn to the fire burning
in the fireplace. The new power she had first felt on the yacht had
grown inside of her over the months and bloomed today. There was a
knowledge deep inside of her that knew what she had to do. When she
thought of her old life, it seemed purposeless. She could never go
back to booking sightseeing tours, to killing the hours, days, and
years. Yes, she knew what she had to do.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

Josselin closed his eyes briefly, as if he
regretted her answer. Cain nodded approvingly.

“Good.” Cain turned to Josselin. “We look
after our own. She’ll have protection, Josselin.”

“I know,” he said tightly.

“Your conflict is normal,” Cain said, “but
maybe you’re still underestimating your wife’s strength and
talent.”

Clelia could see from the set of Josselin’s
jaw that he was heading for a confrontation with Cain, so she said
quickly, “I think our dinner is getting cold. Shall I serve?”

“Thank you,” Cain said smoothly. “Now, let’s
talk about the logistics.”

“I’ve already told Clelia that we’re
relocating to New York as soon as possible,” Josselin said.

Clelia dished up for their guest.

“How do you feel about moving to America?”
Cain said, taking the plate from her.

“Of course it will be hard, but Josselin said
that we could take my animals and that Erwan could join us, if he
wished.”

Cain adjusted his tie. “How would you like to
stay in France?”

Clelia glanced at Josselin. “Is that even an
option?”

Josselin leaned forward. “What are you
suggesting, Cain?”

“The team is growing. Our missions are
sporadic. I, myself, have decided it’s time to soak up some sun at
my villa in Morocco and Lann has just bought an old monastery in
South America that he plans to renovate. I was wondering if you’d
prefer staying in France.” He lifted his brow. “We could do with a
base here.”

Clelia couldn’t help the excitement and hope
that expanded in her chest. Without giving away her feelings in her
voice, she said, “That’s something Josselin and I would have to
discuss first.”

“Of course.” Cain nodded politely. “You can
inform me of your decision later.”

* * * *

Cain didn’t delay his departure. He left
shortly after dinner. Josselin saw him off by the door, Clelia
huddled in the crook of his arm. He understood her need to see her
grandfather, so as soon as he had closed the door, he turned her to
him.

“I know there’s a lot to talk about,” he
said, “but let me first take you to Erwan.”

“Thank you,” she said, her face showing her
appreciation.

He took her hand and led her upstairs to the
first floor, to the guest bedroom that Izabell had prepared. He
could feel her excitement and tension in the way she clasped his
hand, so he gave her a quick hug before knocking and opening the
door.

Erwan sat up in the bed, a tray with chicken
soup and lobster still balanced on his lap.

Josselin watched as his little witch hurried
across the room to hug her grandfather, tears rolling down her
cheeks.

“There now,” Erwan said, stroking her back.
“All is well.”

She pulled away from him. “I’m so sorry for
everything.”

Erwan chuckled. “No need to waste good energy
on regrets. You have nothing to be sorry about. We’re all
alive.”

She gave a happy sigh and Josselin saw the
tremor that ran over her body.

“There’s so much to tell,” she said, touching
the old man’s cheek, “and so much to hear.”

“Later,” Erwan said. “We have all the time in
the world.”

Clelia released the steel grip with which she
held him. “You must be tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”

He chuckled. “No patience, whatsoever. Yes,
we’ll talk tomorrow.”

She kissed him on the head. “Good night. I’m
not far. I don’t ever want to be far again,” she whispered.

Emotions washed over Josselin as he watched
her. He could never make up for what she had suffered, but he’d
sure as hell try. For years, he had been running from his past, and
the fact that it didn’t haunt him any longer was all due to her.
Peace dawned on him, watching her as she walked back to the door
where he leaned in the frame, the smile on her face meant only for
him.

He took her hand to draw her into the hallway
and closed the door.

“I want to show you something,” he said.

She shot him a questioning glance as he
pulled her back downstairs, through the reception hall and onto the
terrace.

“Where are we going?” she said, but he only
smiled at her.

He led her down the steps into what had once
been the garden, onto the jetty that extended over the water.
Placing her in front of him, he rested his head in her hair. One
arm circled her waist while his other hand found her breast. He
felt the peak harden for him and smiled with male pride.

“I want you to imagine how this place looked
before it became ruined,” he said softly.

Her body didn’t stiffen or tense, so he
continued, “I don’t want you to leave France if you don’t want
to.”

He could feel the little jerk that vibrated
through her.

“You mean ... we can stay?”

There was so much hope in her voice that his
heart squeezed for how hard it had to have been for her to accept
their relocation to New York.

He turned her to face him, because he needed
to see her eyes, to read her reaction.

“Yes, Clelia,” he said, “we can stay, if
that’s what you want.”

Her eyes widened for a second, and then
contracted. “What about you? What about your home in New York?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “This is home,
my little witch.”

She hugged him tightly. “Yes, Josselin, you
came home.

Behind them, the lake shone in the light of
the moon, reflecting the castle that was his past, and their
future.

Epilogue

It was a small crowd consisting of Bono,
Lann, Maya, Erwan, Cain, Josselin, and Clelia that gathered for
Clelia’s inauguration into Cain’s organization. They had prepared
the dining room of the castle for the occasion. Clelia faced Cain,
who stood before them in a brilliant white suit, to take her
oath.

“Do you promise to uphold our beliefs, to
protect our own, and to fight for what we represent?” Cain
said.

Clelia glanced over her shoulder at her
audience. Josselin stared at her with such obvious desire that she
flushed. She wore the dress he had bought for the celebration, a
black silk creation with a low V neckline and back, narrow over her
hips, flaring out around her feet. He wore a black suit with a
silver tie that highlighted his eyes. If this wasn’t what Josselin
wanted for her, she wouldn’t accept, but she saw only support and
love in his eyes as he gave her a slight, encouraging nod.

Erwan stood to her left. She had never seen
him in a suit before. Strangely, the navy double-breasted jacket
and tailored pants suited him. He stood tall and erect, his smile
unwavering.

Bono stared straight ahead, his cream linen
jacket a striking contrast against his smooth, dark skin. When she
caught his eye, he winked.

Lann looked indifferent, as usual, but he had
brought her a priceless gift–an ancient handwritten book on the
magic of fire starting from his private collection. The Russian had
chosen a pinstriped suit and open-neck shirt for the occasion,
looking like a million dollars. His hair was braided down his back,
but instead of making him look feminine, it added to his
understated masculine power.

Clelia’s eyes finally rested on Maya. Just
looking at her made one gasp. Red organza was crossed over her
breasts, the bands caught at her waist and scrunched in horizontal
layers to form a body-hugging skirt. Her hip was cocked, her stance
one of sexual allure. Clelia couldn’t help the thought that formed
in her mind. It was a harmless thought, with no real damage
intended, so the flame that set the hem of the red dress alight was
just a small one. It scorched the fabric only minimally, just
enough to ruin the creation.

Maya jumped, raising her skirt, but the
flames were already dead. She lifted her head and narrowed her
eyes. Clelia shrugged and gave her a mischievous smile. Slowly,
Maya’s face relaxed into an amused expression before her red lips
curved.

“Clelia,” Cain said, “what is your
answer?”

Clelia turned to face Cain. She felt
Josselin’s fingers brush over hers.

“Yes, I do.”

“And do you swear not to use your art, except
for the good of mankind?”

Josselin squeezed her hand.

“I do.”

Cain smiled. “Welcome to our team.” He came
forward to congratulate her and to kiss her hand, and then Clelia
was surrounded by everyone who bid her welcome to the small,
exclusive group.

Josselin hugged her tight. “I’m so proud of
you,” he whispered in her ear. “You look marvelous. And I can’t
wait to undress you.”

Various parts of her body hidden under her
dress grew hot, but she barely had time to register the sensation
before a rivulet of cold liquid ran down her spine. Spinning
around, she saw Maya, her hand hovering above the glasses of
champagne.

Maya chuckled. “Need to cool down?”

“You won’t,” Clelia said, the laughter
sounding in her voice.

Cain put his arm around Maya. “Maya,” he said
sternly, “you know better than that. You took an oath not to use
your art unless it was for the good of mankind.”

Maya pouted. “She started it.” She took a
glass of champagne from the table and lifted it to Clelia. “To
mixed breeds.”

Clelia smiled. She belonged.

THE END

About the Author

Charmaine Pauls
was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. She obtained a master’s
degree in Communication at the University of Potchestroom, and
followed a diverse career path in journalism, public relations,
advertising, communications, photography, graphic design, and brand
marketing. Her writing has always been an integral part of her
professions.

After relocating to France with her French
husband, she fulfilled her passion to write creatively full-time.
Charmaine has published five novels since 2011, as well as several
short stories and articles.

When she is not writing, she likes to travel,
read, and rescue cats. Charmaine currently lives in Chile with her
husband and children. Their household is a linguistic mélange of
Afrikaans, English, French and Spanish.

Books by Charmaine Pauls:

Between Fire & Ice

The Winemaker

Second Best

The Astronomer

Short stories by Charmaine Pauls:

A Miracle for Christmas

The Ice Hotel Wedding Test

The Grayton Christmas Supper Contest

Author website:

www.charmainepauls.com

Coming
in May 2015

Aeromancist, The Beginning

(A novella, a prelude to Book 2 of the Seven
Forbidden Arts Series)

Passion always comes with a price.

All that Russian aeromancist Lann Dréan wants
is to enjoy a month of peace in the privately owned convent in
Santiago he is turning into a home. When an American literature
student walks into his library of ancient books, his holiday
intentions change. The untouchable Lann is inexplicably enraptured.
For all his famed control, he can’t stay away from Katherine
White.

Gifted with a hunted talent and a price on
his head, the best Lann can offer Kat are thirty days of unrivalled
passion before returning to his paranormal crime taskforce in New
York. If Kat consents to his terms, she will agree to walk away on
Day Thirty. Forever. But his uncontainable desire comes with an
unforeseen price.