Lenora withdrew a gilded knife with tiny rubies set in the handle. The knife vibrated with a power that was palpable even to someone like Anna who, until recently, had been unused to magic. Lenora cut a thin line down the center of Anna’s unmarked palm, causing her to hiss with pain. A low growl came from Luc, but he didn’t move to intercede.
“I will heal it before we begin,” Lenora said. The growling stopped. Merripen and Zenda sat on the floor just outside the circle mixing herbs and chanting. After Lenora had gotten several drops of Anna’s blood into a saucer, she held out her hand expectantly.
Like doctor’s assistants, Merripen and Zenda gave her damp muslin they’d soaked in water and then dipped in the herbs. Lenora wrapped Anna’s left hand while chanting quietly. A gentle breeze picked up, then the burning sensation from the cut was gone. Lenora unwrapped her hand, and it was healed.
Anna moved to Luc as the three sisters sat together drawing symbols onto the hardwood floor with her blood. She couldn’t help thinking she’d have to deal with neurotic-Luc if this didn’t work and bloodstains were left on the floor. Maybe they could get an oriental rug to cover it.
After a few moments, the gypsies joined hands and started to chant in their native tongue as they swayed slowly back and forth. A wind picked up, causing the candle flames to flicker in and out. As their voices grew louder, the wind turned to a full-on gust, zipping around the room. Luc wasn’t responsible for it this time.
The candles puffed out from the force of the wind, leaving the mid-afternoon sun filtering through the windows as the only remaining light. An invisible energy flung the door open, and Luc was pulled toward it. He bounced hard off the barrier.
The chanting continued. It happened again, causing Luc to slide against the floor and land in a heap. The barrier wasn’t going anywhere.
“Stop it!” Anna shouted. She rushed over and crouched next to him as the chanting died down, her hands skimming over his arms in search of injury. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he growled. “The only thing hurt is my pride. That wasn’t incredibly manly.” He clasped her hand in his, holding her gaze. “But it’s nice that you care.”
Anna, looking for a distraction from the intimate moment, pulled her hand away, and turned to the gypsies. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you keep flinging him against the barrier like that.”
“It’s all right,” Lenora said. “Unfortunately, we cannot undo the curse. Was there a clause to break it?”
Anna stared at an interesting spot on the floor. “Yes, but we were hoping not to have to do it.”
“You will probably have to. We felt the anger. And pain. There was too much fueling the spell. Our magic may be strong, but vengeance is stronger.”
“You could see the original spell?” Anna asked.
“We could sense it, yes.”
The gypsies turned then as one organized unit and started packing bags. They seemed to consider their business done. No small talk or chit chat or staying for lunch. Anna almost had whiplash as she watched them file out the door.
She was quickly running out of options. Maybe she should take pictures of the house before she burned it down. Then she could move all the furniture into storage, so she wouldn’t lose that, at least.
The harem stood over in the corner whispering amongst themselves. Maria had gone outside to see her aunts off, and no doubt to get a lecture about her choice to remain under the same roof as a demon.
“We’re never getting that blood out of the floor,” Luc grumbled, interrupting her thoughts.
“Oh, here we go. I knew it was just a matter of time before you started in on that. I’m going to burn down the house just so I don’t have to hear about the antiques and the walls and floor anymore. Do you know your demon status is the only thing keeping you intimidating? All the cooking and the obsession with antiques . . . ”
He growled. “Don’t push me, Anna. I don’t care if there are witnesses.”
A shiver––though not from fear––ran down her spine.
Karen came over then. “We’re going to Mama Bella’s for lunch. Want to come?”
Anna glanced over to Luc. The look in his eyes was so possessive she wanted to flee to the safety of the restaurant with the others, but the excited twinge in her stomach wouldn’t let her.
“No, that’s okay,” she heard herself say.
Karen shrugged and rejoined the group. Anna practically ran to the kitchen. What was she doing letting herself be alone with him, without the harem as a buffer? She ran hot water in the sink and started putting the breakfast dishes in.
“We have a dishwasher,” he commented.
“I like to do them by hand.” I like to keep my hands busy so I won’t put them on you. I like to distract myself from temptation.
She felt the demon behind her, pressing himself firmly against her back. He pulled her hair away from her neck, kissed the side of it, and whispered in her ear.
“Gypsies are rarely wrong about the future, you know.”
“Luc . . . ” She was holding onto the rarely part of that sentence.
His hand slipped underneath her shirt to caress her lower back. “I don’t know why you fight it. You are mine. There’s nothing you can do about that.”
She bristled. It was one thing to voluntarily go to him, it was quite another for him to act as if he had some kind of special claim over her that she was powerless to fight. She could fight it. She was pretty confident Father Jeffries could undo the bond.
“Stop saying that! If you think it helps your cause, it doesn’t. You know you can take what you want. I know you can take what you want. You can use the hypno mind thrall thing or whatever if you want. If you’re going to do it, do it. But stop hanging it over my head. I don’t like being messed with like that.”
Luc didn’t say anything more. He just kept rubbing her back in small, soothing circles. And like an idiot, she kept leaning into it so he didn’t stop.
“I start to see you as something other than a demon, and you keep reminding me.”
He stopped touching her and stepped back. “I don’t want you to forget it.”
She turned to face him, wiping her sudsy hands on her jeans. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m not human. I don’t want you to be disappointed by that. If you decide to be with me, I don’t want you to pretend I’m just another guy you’re dating. I need you to be aware.”
She threw her hands in the air. “I’m aware! I’m so aware, there’s no more aware I could be. Unless you start stomping around the house in demon form.”
He cringed.
“See? Double standard. You say you don’t want me to forget what you are, but you’ve yet to show me. Show me, and maybe I won’t be so forgetful.” She knew she was baiting him, and she didn’t care. She was tired of the hypocrisy. It wasn’t her fault she forgot he was a demon when he acted so much like a person half the time.
“You never have to see that.” He reached out to touch her, but she sidestepped his hand.
“Whatever.”
He moved to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. “Anna, why must we always fight? Why is it so hard with you?”
“It’s four o’clock.”
“So?”
“Last Saturday the Townsends invited me to dinner. It’s today.” She draped a hand towel over the draining dishes.
“You’re being avoidant.”
“Yes, but I’m not lying. The issues we have can’t be worked out in twenty minutes. I promise we’ll talk when I get back.”
The frown lines around his mouth showed his disapproval, but he let her go.
Cecelia Townsend had gunmetal gray hair, which she held forever captive in a loose bun. She was pushing in on seventy––if she wasn’t already there––and though her face was lined with wrinkles, she gave off the kind of youthful glow most young people couldn’t successfully pull off.
Everyone in town wanted to know her secret, as if she’d somehow found the fountain of youth. Her fountain of youth was living. She did it very well.
“Get on in here,” Cecelia said, pulling Anna into a hug as she crossed the threshold. The older woman’s grip was still strong as ever.
When they reached the dining room, Charles was already seated at the table.
“I thought we were going to have drinks first,” Cece said when she saw him. It was clear she’d wanted everything to be perfect.
Charles just grunted. Anna couldn’t determine exactly what the grunt was meant to convey, but she kind of wanted to smack him for messing up an evening Cece had taken so much time to put together.
She had never disliked Charles, but she’d never much cared for him either. He was the most monosyllabic man she knew. Maybe it was asking too much, but she preferred a man who could string together full sentences.
“Cece, I used to spit out the raisins from the cookies you made onto the back table when I was a kid. No need for formality on my account.”
Cecelia just laughed at that, the darkness lifting from her expression. “And then when I told you to eat them, you slipped them to the dog. That mutt would eat anything.”
The cook came in then. “I apologize, Mrs. Townsend. I should have waited until Ms. Worthington arrived to announce dinner.”
“It’s no problem, Hannah,” Cece said. “I wasn’t very clear. Since we’re here, we may as well sit.” She shot Charles a glare, but he didn’t seem to notice or else had become impervious to her disapproval after so many years.
The rest of dinner went without incident with the best pot roast and vegetables Anna had ever consumed. She didn’t remember Cece’s last cook being this good.
They went through the obligatory how have you been since your father passed questions, as well as the polite platitudes about what a good man he was. Anna regretted how she and her father had parted and was glad when that portion of the conversation was over.
Inevitably the discussion turned to Anna’s new house.
“I can’t believe you forgot about the ghost stories,” Cece said, leaning forward in her seat.
Anna shrugged. “I think I was practicing selective memory techniques since I wanted the house so much. You know how much I loved it.”
The old woman chuckled. “Indeed. I wasn’t surprised when you bought it. I was just thinking the other day about a dream I had about that house when I was in college. You’ll never believe what a party girl I was.”
Anna somehow doubted Cecelia Townsend had ever partied a day in her life. Seeing her expression of doubt, the woman became more animated.
“No, I was! There was this one time I remember. I was a senior, and I met these two girls at a bar. They were seniors too, except in high school. They’d snuck in and had been getting older men to buy them drinks. We got hammered and danced on a couple of tables.” She blushed and let out a girlish giggle at Anna’s expression.
“I must have passed out because when I woke up, I was in my dorm, and the girls I met were gone. I was just thinking about that because I still remember this odd dream I had. A lot of it’s fuzzy, like it started out a nightmare . . . I think . . . The girls were in it and they died or something. But then there was this gorgeous man and . . . ”
Charles cleared his throat, and she blushed again. “Well, that’s not really the point. What I was going to say was . . . the dream was inside your house. Or well, you know Beatrice’s house back then. And ever since then I’ve always wanted to know if the house looks the same on the inside as it did in my dream. I mean I know it’s a silly thing to wonder, but we used to talk about going in there and checking it out when you were little.
“I should have gone by and looked at it myself one of those times it was up for sale, but I never did work up the nerve. It was hard back then with Bea gone. Anyway, curiosity has finally won out, and I’m rudely inviting myself over to get a look at your house.”
Anna had dropped her fork the second the older woman mentioned dreaming. Once she was sure Cecelia was talking about what she thought she was talking about, she almost choked on her roast.
“Are you all right?”
Anna coughed before finally swallowing enough sweet tea to cause the food to go down. “Fine. It just went down wrong.”
***
“Luc!” Anna bellowed, as soon as she got through the door. “Luc!”
Karen was curled up on the couch watching TV. “He’s in the library,” she said, not taking her eyes from the screen. “He’s been holed up in there ever since you left.”
Anna ran down the hall, not slowing as she slammed into the library. “The dreams have to stop.” Her eyes narrowed when she saw him working his way through a bottle of brandy. Something on the grocery list he hadn’t mentioned?
He put the alcohol down on the side table and closed his book. “What happened?”
“Cecelia Townsend happened. You know the dream I had the other night?”
He didn’t have to be told which dream she was talking about. He took another drink.
“Well, take a wild guess at who you managed not to kill.”
His eyes lit up. “Cecelia? Really?” He let the name roll over his tongue as if testing it. “So she’s okay, then? Alive and not crazy?” His voice was so hopeful, for a moment Anna forgot about being mad.
“Are you kidding me? She’s a bastion of mental health. This is the best, kindest, most together woman I’ve ever known and I’ve seen her twenty-year-old self naked. Cece has been like a mentor to me. Like a second mother or grandmother or whatever . . . and now I’ve seen her naked! The dreams have to stop.”