Chapter 13
Chapter 13
T uesday rose with the sun, or rather what she expected was early morning. The window shades had drawn down while she had been slumbering. Good ol’ Stuart. She could get used to a home butler like that.
“No, never,” she muttered. There was something creepy about a robot tending the household duties. She’d seen the movies. It never ended well.
Shaking her head, she wandered into Ethan’s kitchen to pour some orange juice. On the kitchen counter, she found one stale croissant in a brown patisserie box so she gnawed on that, thinking to leave the vampire to sleep.
Settling onto the sofa and pulling the bag of supplies she’d purchased onto her lap, she again eyed the bed for movement. That had been some good sex last night. But she didn’t intend to sew any strings of attachment between the two of them. It had just been sex. Leave it at that.
Because she didn’t belong in Paris, and she most certainly was not in the frame of mind to begin an affair with a sexy vampire who knew how to touch her in all the right places in all the right ways.
Even if she had decided getting rid of the love curse was most important.
She blew out a breath and shook her head.
She wasn’t a romantic. Romance had gotten stale for her somewhere around the mid-eighteenth century. Hell, it had been earlier than that. The four days and nights Finnister had tortured her relentlessly had pretty much banished all her idiotic desires for love and romance.
Sex was as she and Ethan had discussed. More than romance, it was a world. And if a person went into a relationship expecting it to fulfill and complete them and make them happy, then they were doing it wrong. Happiness could only come from within. And recognizing that Ethan made her happy—but wasn’t the source of that feeling—was key.
However, there was nothing wrong in reveling in the afterglow of a night having been well-fucked.
Pulling out items from the bag, she decided the Tibetan quartz points might come in handy for a summoning spell. She really needed some shungite, something powerful to shield her from the demon’s awareness, but the shop had been out. The obsidian she wore was strong and attuned to her body, but it tended to shiver when attacked.
The tracking magic she’d given to Ethan with last night’s spell might work. And it might not. Surely, the sex had settled that magic into his very bones. Now, it was all in how he worked with such power. And much as she felt he was a smart guy who could handle this mission on his own, she didn’t want to be left standing on the side. Seriously. She liked to participate. And she owed the demon a smackdown that would make his heart crumble and fall from his chest. He’d gotten all the love over these centuries. It was time to tilt the scales in her favor.
“Time to let the witch reign,” she murmured, and sipped the orange juice.
Another glance to the bed found the sheets pushed away and the mattress absent of a slumbering vampire. He must have slipped into the bathroom. And she hadn’t even noticed. Vampires were shifty like that.
She could only smile at the thought.
Ten minutes later the shower stopped and Ethan wandered through the bedroom with a towel wrapped about his hips. Water droplets glinted on his chest and shoulders, and he scrubbed his hair with a smaller towel until it stood up all over. A slick of his fingers over each side of his head left it styled perfectly. He noticed her watching him and winked at her.
Tuesday experienced a sudden desire to kneel before him and give him whatever he may ask of her.
But she didn’t. That would be pushing it. Was she all of a sudden so wishy-washy simply because she’d been considering romance? Silly witch.
“You’re an early riser. For a vampire,” she commented as he padded into the living area and stood before her.
Tossing the towel he’d used on his hair back to land on the end of the bed, he shrugged. “Never need much sleep. And it’s supposed to rain today around noon. I’m getting ready to go out.”
“Yeah? You got a date?”
His smile was quick and easy. And it held all the answers to the secrets she’d given him last night. “I’m going to test out this tracking magic you gave me.” He splayed a palm down his chest and abs. The red marker was gone, washed away in the shower. The sex had quickened the spell sinking in. The man was now a walking demon compass. “Can’t sit around hoping the demon will come knocking on my door, can I?”
“Does that mean I have to stay here?”
“You do know the danger of coming along.”
“It’s not so much a danger as me being the plague the demon wants to avoid. Do you have your crew ready to go this time?”
“I will.” He sat on the sofa next to her, and the towel parted to reveal his muscular, dark-haired thighs and a tease of penis. “Can I kiss you this morning and tell you how beautiful you are? Or are we not doing that lovey-dovey kind of stuff?”
“I’ll take a kiss and a compliment any day.”
“Good.” He leaned in and kissed her, taking his time as he opened her mouth with his and slipped his tongue against hers. Instant recall of his tongue tasting her pussy filled Tuesday’s chest with a deep and wanting moan. The vampire ended the kiss with a slip of his thumb over her bottom lip. “You’re beautiful, witch.”
“You’re pretty sexy yourself. Want to have hex?”
“I hope that means what I want it to mean.”
“Oh, it does.” Tuesday plunged her hand under the towel and claimed his semi-erect cock with a firm grip. “I get a head start.”
As she bowed to tug away his towel and lick up his quickly hardening length, Ethan commented, “I think I’m the one with the head start, if you know what I mean. Oh, yes, this is a good way to begin the day.”
* * *
Ethan slipped on his Ray-Bans and exited the building. He vacillated on whether or not to drive on his quest to find the demon, then decided against it. On foot he could maneuver quicker and into tighter situations. As vampire he had the ability to traverse the entire city in a swift dash, leaving those he passed only wondering if it was a sudden wind that had brushed their hair across their skin. But he’d start slow as he learned to work with this magic Tuesday had given him.
The training session had been all of a few minutes as she’d explained he had to focus inwardly on his sense of direction and need to stand before the demon Gazariel, while also dividing that focus outward to pick up on signals that indicated he was moving toward that goal. Elementals would work with him, she had explained. He knew elementals were tiny creatures, like sprites, but also not. They were of the elements—earth, air, water and fire—and could resemble their namesakes or not. And they could either choose to be seen or not. A mysterious species that Tuesday had said he should trust would guide him.
So he did.
The forecasted rain was more like a mist, but the sky was clouded and that was all that mattered to a vampire. Still, he kept on the sunglasses so as to notice any wards he should avoid.
Leaving his coat open, and his shirt unbuttoned, he needed to access the invisible sigil on his chest that Tuesday had drawn. Before he’d left, she had taken his hand and placed his forefingers to each of the compass points, between his nipples, above his navel and under his ribs on each side. He had to focus on the demon’s name and his intent, so he murmured, “Take me to Gazariel, The Beautiful One.”
With a touch to the north direction on his chest, he felt nothing. He slid his fingers down to the south and an inexplicable tug turned him toward the Seine. Had that been the elementals?
“Trust them,” Ethan muttered, and he began to walk, following the minute but definite sensation that seemed to keep his feet on track and his eyes on the prize.
If tracking a demon was this easy, he should consider staffing a dark witch to train his retrievers. On the other hand, none in his employ seemed to have too much trouble locating a mission target. It was the adventure and the hunt that fueled a retriever, and he was feeling that old yet invigorating thrill again. He wondered why he’d ever thought settling behind a desk was for him, and now challenged his idea of where, exactly, he wanted his future to go. Perhaps he should participate in fieldwork more often?
When he reached the river and crossed the busy street to lean over the stone balustrade and peer into the inky waters, he touched his chest again and turned his attention inward to divine his next move. This time he was drawn across the Pont de Sully and into the fifth arrondissement to pass before the Arab World Institute. It was a favorite building of his. The facade was paneled with metal squares that were light-sensitive and could regulate the amount of light that entered the building. They mimicked an element of Arabic architecture, the mashrabiya . It was gorgeous, plain and simple.
Pulled now with more urgency, he walked swiftly down a curving street, and turned this way and that until he’d broached the depths of the fifth and the traffic slowed and the number of pedestrians decreased. He dodged to avoid a cyclist on the sidewalk, then abruptly turned to the right.
He stood before a three-story white stucco building hugged by a small patio area with outdoor dining tables capped by red-and white-striped umbrellas. The aroma of roasting meat appealed to him, and he also picked up the delicious caraway scent of baked rye bread. A four-star restaurant?
He supposed demons did have to eat. And the place was large and spacious, so Ethan could enter without being noticed. But also, it was filled with humans. He couldn’t risk taking the demon into captivity here. He’d have to get him outside.
He buttoned up his shirt so he wouldn’t stand out in such a tony place. At the hostess station, Ethan explained he was looking for a friend and wanted to take a look around. The receptionist with emerald eyes and too much red lipstick started to explain that wasn’t the policy and that the place was reservations-only. So Ethan touched her hand and traced his finger along her wrist right above the vein, making sure she felt his persuasion.
She suddenly nodded and gestured him to walk inside. With a sigh, she then turned back to her black leather book of names and tables, instantly forgetting Ethan had been there.
The main room, which hummed with low conversation, was vast and spacious and walled completely in windows, such as in a Victorian conservatory. Massive plants grew up along the walls and hung from the ceiling, and were positioned to give privacy to most tables. It smelled like summer, too. Ethan wouldn’t be surprised to see a parrot or even a snake gliding amongst the greenery, but he quickly reined in his wonder and scanned the room from his discreet position beside a tall, bushy ficus.
The pull he felt in his chest was unmistakable. Tuesday’s magic had worked. The demon had to be in here.
Methodically, he scanned over every table until he spied a head of dark hair sitting before the far window. A man was talking animatedly to a woman whom Ethan couldn’t quite see, for a frond of greenery obscured the view. Didn’t matter. He’d found Gazariel. Dressed in an elegant business suit that gleamed when he moved. Like hematite catching the sun, his wavy dark hair looked styled and ready for a magazine photo shoot. Indeed, he was beautiful, and Ethan could admit that.
Now, how to get him out of the restaurant and in position for capture?
He tugged out his phone and texted the containment team leader his location. Five minutes and they’d be outside near the hornbeam shrubbery that demarcated the edge of the property.
Whoever the woman was that the demon spoke to could be a girlfriend or lover. The one he had given the book to? Or had he yet to give her the gift? What sort of gift was a book of angel names and sigils? The woman had to be paranormal. Ethan didn’t see the point in a human wanting something like that. Or knowing the value of such a gift.
On the other hand, there were many humans who genuinely Believed, and those sorts could be the most dangerous to his species, to all species.
A waiter neared Ethan and cast him a curious look so Ethan sent out some more persuasive vibes. He needed to remain unremarkable to those around him.
On the other side of the room, the demon clasped the woman’s hand from across the table and she leaned forward, a spill of coal-black hair falling over her cheek and veiling her face. Dark lipstick emphasized her narrow mouth as she spoke. Yet when she stroked her hair back with a hand, curling it over an ear, Ethan saw clearly what she looked like.
And he recognized her.
“Holy—what the hell?”
He knew the woman’s name. Anyx. She was not human, but rather vampire.
And she was his ex-wife.