The Seven Year Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 2 (25 page)

He knew how torturous those what-ifs floating around in her head could be. He had no soothing platitudes to ease her doubts, or the awful, queasy guilt that gnawed at his insides. Because the truth was he should have known there was more going on with Clarissa than her fear of being with him, allowing him into her heart. But he’d been so selfishly afraid of losing her, he’d deliberately blinded himself to the possibility of a bigger picture, never realizing that she hadn’t just been certain
they
didn’t have a future together, but that she believed she didn’t possess one at all.

Fiona started to turn toward the doorway, only to stop and sweep him with an assessing look, her pale eyebrows lifting. “Just a suggestion, but you might want to at least put some pants on before the guild gets here. You know what a prude Domino can be.”

She left and he grabbed his bundle of clothing from the floor before crossing to the bathroom. By the time he’d finished showering, Domino and Willa had shown up with a short, stocky woman draped from neck to toe in a DayGlo orange caftan. A matching scarf was wrapped around her head turban-style. Introducing herself as Mama Heloise, the woman strode to the bed and placed one of her plump hands on Clarissa’s torso. Meanwhile, Willa hovered at the bedside, her face whiter than the sheet tucked over Clarissa’s motionless body.

The woman’s collection of bangles clanged musically as she yanked her hand away. “Whatever juju this creature possesses is strong and nasty. Even from here I feel its wickedness.”

Her pronouncement wasn’t news to him. All he cared about was killing the motherfucking thing and getting Clarissa back safe and sound in his arms.

“This thing, it is not going to give up its claim without a battle.” Mama Heloise shook her head sadly. “There is nothing to be done for this child.”

He snarled, backing the woman against the corner bedpost. Dimly, he heard the admonishing shouts from the others but paid them no heed. Clucking her tongue, Mama Heloise dug in her pocket and lifted something to her mouth. A second later shrill screeching filled his ears. He howled in agony, stumbling back. The noise blessedly stopped, and he glared at the woman as she jiggled the dog whistle in his face before re-pocketing the obnoxious device. She hurled a string of Cajun profanities at him, shaking her fist. “Mind your teeth, wolf. My bark can be a million times worse than your bite.”

Her scolding finished, Mama Heloise returned her attention to Clarissa. Removing a rattle from the hemp bag she’d brought along, she chanted something in Cajun again, the rattle’s tasseled cords stirring the air above the mattress. Once she’d completed her ritual, she marked each corner of the bed with some mysterious powder. “This will keep her body tethered to life and repel any evil spirits who might try to steal ownership of this vessel.”

He didn’t know what angered and sickened him more—the idea of Clarissa’s body being homesteaded by an entity with dubious motives or having her referred to as a vessel. It made her sound like nothing more than an empty vase or something, for fuck’s sake.

“Just out of curiosity, Clarissa’s soul won’t be repelled by that stuff, right?” Fiona’s expression turned nervous as Mama Heloise sent her an intimidating stare.

“No spirits will be able to pass through the barrier, including hers. If by any miracle you do find a way to call her soul back, you will have to remove her from this room to allow passage.” Her expression turned properly chastising. “But I wouldn’t risk it, if I were you. Not unless you are absolutely certain she is returning. Otherwise, she
will
be gone from here forever. That is a guarantee.”

Mama Heloise stuffed her things into her bag and waddled toward the door. Domino and Fiona traipsed after her, but Willa remained rooted in place, her unwavering gaze glued to Clarissa. “She hasn’t given up yet.” Apparently feeling the heat of his stare, she lifted her head and looked him square in the eye. “I can feel it. Her determination.”

He didn’t question how Willa could possibly sense what nobody else seemed able to—even the feisty Mama Heloise. She was reaffirming his hope. That was all he needed. All that mattered. Willa crossed to him and took his hands. “We can’t give up on her, either. No matter how dark things look.”

In that, they were in complete accord. Even if he had to search the bowels of Hell itself, he’d bring his mate back.

Sometime around dusk, the sound of loud voices coming from the front entrance managed to tear his focus from Clarissa. Reluctantly uncurling his arm from her waist, he shoved from the mattress, being careful not to disturb Mama Heloise’s mysterious white powder. He went to the top of the stairs and peered down at the commotion below. A petite, dark-haired woman was standing beside a tall, lanky kid. She looked exceedingly uncomfortable as the boy argued over something with Constance.

The kid’s raised voice easily drifted up the stairs. “I’m telling you, she told us to come whenever. If you don’t believe me, just ask her.”

“And I told
you
that’s not possible right now. And seeing how Clarissa never mentioned one word about this, I’m inclined to think you’re full of shit.”

More than curious to see what was going on and what the hell Clarissa had to do with it, he loped down the stairs. The boy and the unknown woman both glanced his way as he drew to a halt next to Constance. “What’s going on?”

Constance waved toward the pair. “He says Clarissa promised him and his mother they could live here.”

He frowned at the kid, gravitating toward the same conclusion as Constance. It wasn’t like Clarissa to make a rash decision like this one, particularly without consulting her coven sisters about it first. But just as he was about to suggest to the pair that they find somewhere else to take whatever con they were working, Ms. Peach walked into the entry. The elderly witch eyed the new arrivals suspiciously. “Who’re you?”

“Tanner Montgomery. This is my ma, Sarah.”

Ms. Peach adjusted her spectacles, inspecting the boy from head to toe. “You’re not an alien, are you?”

While Tanner stood there, looking justifiably confused by the question, Constance ran his story past Ms. Peach.

“Oh yeah. She mentioned you’d be showing up. You look like you’re a loud snorer. You’re sleeping down here.”

Logan figured his expression must have come pretty damn close to mirroring Constance’s slack-jawed incredulity. “Wait, he’s telling the truth?”

Tanner stacked his arms over his chest defiantly. “Told you so. I’m no liar.”

The woman, Sarah, cast her eyes to the floor. “If it’s too much trouble, we understand. I figured it was too good to be true anyway. Most folks don’t offer their home to total strangers.”

Her soft admission managed to make him feel like he was a big bag of shit. Judging from the crimson stain coloring Constance’s cheekbones, she felt the same way. She cleared her throat. “Look, I’m sorry if I came across like a bitch. There’s just a lot of…stress…going on around here right now. You’re more than welcome to stay. Where are your bags? I’ll help bring them in.”

“No. I’ll get ’em.” Tanner turned and strode toward the door, his gait stiff.

In the wake of her son’s absence, Sarah continued staring at the ground, her awkward shyness more than apparent. Taking pity on the poor woman, Logan glanced at Ms. Peach. “Why don’t you take Sarah into the kitchen and see if Gloria can’t whip up some dinner.” From the looks of it, it’d been a while since Sarah had seen a decent meal. She was even skinnier than her son, her cotton blouse hanging from her shoulders like the threadbare rags of a scarecrow.

“We don’t want to put anyone out.”

Ms. Peach snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. If there’s anything that makes Gloria happier than a fly in a port-a-john, it’s getting to cook.”

Sarah looked a little queasy at the fly reference, but she shuffled after Ms. Peach anyways. A moment later Tanner returned, struggling under the weight of two black garbage bags. When Logan moved to help the kid, Tanner’s face turned beet red and he dragged the bags behind his ratty sneakers. “It’s okay. I’ve got them.”

Logan had the distinct impression the boy was ashamed that he carried all his worldly goods in a trash bag. Empathy overtook him. No wonder Clarissa had offered room and board to Tanner and Sarah. Still, he instinctually suspected that the kid wouldn’t welcome anything resembling pity. “Yeah, you best carry them yourself. You could stand puttin’ some meat on those scrawny muscles.”

Constance sent him an incinerating look, but Tanner’s scowl slipped and was instantly replaced by a grin.

Logan scratched his jaw. “Guess we better find you and your ma a place to bunk.”

“We’re not picky. We’ll take a floor somewhere if we have to. We’ve…we’ve slept in worse places before.”

Constance tapped her chin in contemplation. “Get him set up in Gert’s old room. It’s probably a little musty smelling, but the bedding’s fresh. I’ll send Sarah your way once she’s finished in the kitchen.”

Heeding Constance’s suggestion, he led Tanner down the hallway to the room across from the parlor. Once upon a time, it’d been Gert’s study, but the former mistress had converted it into her private quarters when her arthritis began acting up too much to take the daily trip up and down the stairs. He held the door open for Tanner, giving the boy plenty of maneuvering room for the bulky bags. The kid finally looked up as he cleared the door, his eyes going wide as he took in the spacious suite. “Th-this is our room?”

“Yep.”

Tanner took a hesitant step forward, almost as if he were afraid the illusion would shatter. “It’s so…
big
.”

“Well, there are two of you. You’ll need the space. ’Fraid there’s only the one bed though. We’ll dig up an air mattress for you.” The mention of air mattresses instantly brought his mind careening back to Clarissa. Pain ripped through his heart.

“Like I said, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. I’m just grateful…” As if he were too choked up to finish the sentence, Tanner shook his head. “Anyways, I want to thank Clarissa. I owe her everything, and then some.”

He conjured an image of her motionless body, and the misery inside him intensified. “She’s not up for visitors right now.”

“What’s wrong? Is she sick?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Oh.” Tanner rubbed the back of his neck, his expression worried. “Hope she gets better soon.”

The hollowness in Logan’s gut expanded. “Me too.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

A cool breeze rustled over his fur, waking him. It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t on Clarissa’s bed or in his human body. He rose from his crouching position, his claws sinking into cracked loam. Lifting his muzzle, he sniffed. The wind carried a salty brine that reminded him of home, but he wasn’t anywhere near his cottage. Another essence mingled with the saline. Something that made him think of death. Just as he was about to cower away from the awful stench of it, he caught the hint of sweetness that’d roused him from slumber.

Rissa.

His blood sang with the sheer joy of it, of
her
. She was close. Very, very close.

He took off at a full gallop, eating up the ground in furious bounds as he followed the sandy path that snaked through the vast vista of dead land. The twilight grew denser, along with the evil bouquet that stung his nostrils. But beneath it all was Clarissa, her perfume like a lone rose within the horrible decay.

A red haze suddenly lit the horizon, filling him with an unexplainable sense of doom. Ignoring the trepidation hammering in his chest, he powered on, closing the distance between him and that fire in the sky.

He reached the base of an enormous mountain, its rocky expanse jutting skyward like an impenetrable fortress. Undaunted, he scanned its inhospitable exterior for an avenue of entrance and finally spied a barely trod footpath. He raced along the narrow precipice, his scrabbling claws disturbing loose gravel and sand. After several close calls, he reached the summit and stared into the strange, frightening valley far below him.

A massive lake sat in the belly of the mountain, occasionally spitting fireballs into the air. More than likely, the flaming cannonballs were to blame for the conflagration in the sky.

What the hell was this place? The direction of his thoughts was no doubt ironic. It wouldn’t be surprising if this
was
hell.

Determined more than ever to locate Clarissa, he scurried down the lip of the canyon. Roughly halfway down, her scent became intoxicatingly stronger. Before he could control it, his wolf’s instincts took over and he lifted his head, trumpeting a call to his mate. His howl bounced endlessly within the canyon before everything fell deathly quiet. Even the fiery lake below ceased all movement.

He felt angry, watchful eyes cutting the dark in search of him.

And then he heard her. “
Logan
.”

Cursing his absence of human vocal cords, he howled again and chased the sound of Clarissa’s voice.

What was he doing here? A mix of panic and joy washing over her, Clarissa surged to her feet, abandoning the uncomfortable rock she’d parked her butt on when the strenuous journey across the mountain had become too much for her.

Beside her, Envy hissed. “Come, we must hurry. The others are waiting.”

But…Logan. She couldn’t leave him.

“You belong with me now. Have you forgotten your promise so soon?” An unmistakable threat edged the creature’s tone. “If you do not obey me, I will make you watch as I throw him down into the lake.”

Unmitigated fear exploded within her. “
No
. I’ll go with you.”

“Smart girl.” Those soulless eyes flashing triumph, Envy clutched her arm and dragged her farther down the trail.

They reached the shoreline just as Logan’s lupine form shot from the darkness. He lunged for Envy’s throat, but the sin easily knocked him away. Rolling to his feet, Logan attempted the maneuver again. This time Envy caught him midair, his claws sinking deep into Logan’s fur and flesh. An agonized yelp tore from Logan, and she screamed, throwing herself at the sin. “Stop it! I’ll send him away. J-just let him go.”