A Chalice of Wind (18 page)

“What happened? I was hoping to see you.”

I hesitated. Oh, my whole world changed, that’s all. Suddenly explaining everything to Andre—Thais, my past—it was all too much. I needed to figure out a way to tell him without mentioning all the witch stuff. Someday he could know everything. Someday soon. But not tonight. “School, and then Nan needed me at home.”

“Everything okay?” he asked, smoothing my hair away from my face. His finger traced down my cheek, then my neck, past my collarbone. It dipped slightly under my lacy black camisole, and I shivered again, but not with fear.

I shrugged. “Just family stuff.” Huge, bizarre family stuff. I spread my hands on his hard, warm shoulders and smiled flirtatiously at him. “When can we be alone?”

Sharp interest lit his eyes, and he gave me a predatory look that made butterfly wings feather lightly inside my chest. I was usually the predator with guys. Sometimes I let them pretend to be the one who pounced, but really, it was always me. Which was how I liked it.

Now, with Andre, I realized how exciting it was for him to come after me. He leaned in to kiss me, and I smiled. I held his dark head in my hands, pulling him to me.

He pressed me back against the couch, and I wished that I was powerful enough to cross my arms and blink twice and send us somewhere else. I wanted to take his shirt off to see the hard chest pressed against me. I wanted to watch his face when he saw me naked. Our kisses were so hard and deep, and my body was melting, wanting to join with him, wanting to be as close as possible. The club faded away around me as I held him to me as tightly as I could. Dimly I heard the first opening notes of a band warming up, but mostly all I was aware of was Andre’s heart, thudding fast against mine. Blood rushed through my veins, and every cell in my body felt more alive, more sensitive, more attuned to his body than I’d ever felt with anyone before.

I pulled my head back, feeling drugged, to see his half-closed eyes glittering over me. “What?” he muttered.

“Let’s go to your apartment,” I said, my voice husky. I swallowed and tried to catch my breath as my words sank into his brain. He nodded and started to sit up, pulling me with him.

“Clio!”

I blinked, still dazed, and looked over to see Racey kneeling next to the couch. She had a drink in her hand and the stem of a maraschino cherry sticking out of her mouth.

“It’s quarter to eleven,” she said urgently, tapping her watch.

It took a moment for her meaning to penetrate my lust-crazed consciousness. “What? Not already,” I said, as if denying the knowledge would make the situation go away.

She gave me a patient look, not even glancing at Andre. She’d never been like this before with any guy I’d dated. Well, okay, she’d hated Jason Fisher, but he’d been an ass.

“It’s quarter to eleven,” she said slowly and distinctly, trying not to say the words
you have a curfew
in front of this hot guy. A loyal friend.

What would Nan do to me if I was late? Like, if I blew off getting home anywhere close to eleven? I considered it, sitting all the way up and sipping my mojito. Ordinarily, I didn’t have much of a curfew. But whenever I’d ignored her occasional request to have me home at a certain hour, she hadn’t been happy. Glum memories of tons of housework made me frown.

And now, when she was already strung tight about the curse-of-the-twins thing? It would not be good.

“I have to go,” I said abruptly, and swigged the rest of my drink.

“No,” Andre said coaxingly. His warm hand stroked my bare arm, leaving excited little ripples in its wake. “Stay. I’ll drive you home later.”

“I’m going to get Della and Eugenie,” Racey said, standing up. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
To get you
was left unsaid.

I traced the vee of warm tan skin at the collar of his shirt. “I really have to go. My grandmother needs me home early tonight. I promised her.”

“Call her,” Andre said, his fingers moving on me persuasively, sending shivers down my spine. “Explain. Tell her I’ll see you home safely soon. Just not now.”

I sighed, and Racey returned to stand by me, all but tapping her foot.

“Are they ready?” I asked, stalling.

“ They’re catching a ride with Susan Saltbier,” Racey said. That
she
was willing to leave early with me because she had driven was not lost on me.

I thought it all through as Andre’s hand curled around my waist between the bottom of my camisole and the top of my short camouflage cargo skirt.

“Maybe Andre could drive me home,” I said slowly as Bad Clio on my shoulder nodded eagerly.

“Maybe your grandmother could put your
head
on a
stake
in the front yard,” Racey said, crossing her arms over her chest.

I bit my lip. She was right, of course. I would be
lucky
to get the stake treatment.
Do it now, before you weaken,
I told myself firmly while Good Clio sighed with relief. Using every bit of my willpower, I left Andre’s heat and the promise of intense pleasure and stood up.

“Really?” Andre said, and my knees threatened to buckle.

I nodded mutely. Leaving now went against every desire I had. Racey pulled her car keys out of her purse and let them jingle.

Andre stood, and I loved how tall he was, at least six inches taller than me. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, running his hand through his hair and looking bummed but gallant.

“Oh, that’s okay—” Racey began, but Andre cut her off.

“No. You were almost mugged earlier. I’ll walk you to your car.” He and Racey locked eyes for a moment, then Racey nodded and turned on her heel.

I smiled at Andre and put my arm around him as we moved through the noise of the bar.

“My hero,” I said, and went on tiptoe to kiss him. He smiled and kissed me back, and I savored every second we had before we reached Racey’s mom’s car.

“Call me,” he said as I got into the car. I nodded and kissed the hand that was leaning against the car door.

He smiled and made a tiny kissing motion with his lips, then turned and headed down the street, alone into the night.

I sighed. “You were right, Racey. You’re my salvation. I thank you and I grovel before your superior sense of duty.”

“Damn right,” Racey said, and started her car.

“D
id you really think you could get away with it?” Daedalus’s voice was cutting.

“Oh, Daedalus,” Petra said. “Get over yourself.” She ignored his look of outrage and went to the small bar. She found a bottle of spring water, then went to look out the tall French window at the people passing on the street below.

The air was heavy today, heavy and wet. She’d left Clio at home, working on her “principles of metal in magick” lesson. Clio had been only ten minutes late last night, but she was keeping a secret. Petra was sure of it. But Racey had dropped her off—so they had probably stayed together during the evening. Petra tried to control her tension. She had spoiled Clio, and now she was reaping the results. Petra was sick of secrets. Almost her entire life had been a series of secrets. After all this time, she had no idea how to live without them.

“Petra!”

Petra looked up to see Ouida coming toward her, hands outstretched. The younger woman looked a bit drawn, Petra thought. A bit tense. Well, this was a messy business.

They hugged, and Petra wondered how long it had been since they’d seen each other. Not that long, surely. Petra pulled back to look at her, smoothing her hand over the soft coffee-colored cheek. “Last time I saw you, you had cornrows and beads,” Petra said, smiling.

Ouida patted her short-cropped afro. “ This is easier. Wait till you see Richard.”

Petra’s glance was sharp. “How is he?”

Ouida nodded thoughtfully. “He’s good,” she said, but Petra felt her uncertainty.

The doorbell below rang, and Jules buzzed someone in. Moments later, Sophie and Manon came through the door, Sophie as lovely as always, with her fair skin and large brown eyes. And Manon still had her girlish prettiness, her pale blond curls, her dark eyes, the slender body poised on the edge of puberty.

“My dears.” Petra hugged them each in turn. “Still in school?” she teased Sophie. Sophie blushed and nodded.

“Art history this time,” said Manon. “But we’re going to the Riviera for
Soliver
—she’s promised.”

“You look beautiful, my dear,” Petra told Manon tenderly. Manon and Richard would always have the hardest time, and Petra understood how intensely they wished it were different.

Manon smiled and shrugged. She moved to the small sofa and sat down, propping delicate feet on the Directoire table in front of her. Petra saw Daedalus wince.

“Well, isn’t this quite the little reunion?” Richard’s dry voice cut through the air. Petra turned to see him. Ouida said cheerfully, “He’s goth now.”

Petra embraced Richard, holding his tight body, feeling his tension. He held himself stiffly for a moment, then seemed to relax against his will, putting his arms around her in a brief, hard hug. When she looked into his brown eyes, she saw pain, as usual.

“You kept it from us,” he said under his breath so only she could hear.

She nodded sadly. “I had to, love. I—”

“Yeah.” Richard released himself and went to pour himself several fingers of whiskey over ice. So he was drinking again. Petra wondered how long that had been going on.

Petra looked around the room. “Where’s Claire? Marcel?” Who else was missing? “And our favorite rake?” she asked dryly.

Axelle grinned, running her finger around the top of her wineglass. “He’s out,” she said. “Raking through the locals, no doubt.”

“We can start without him,” said Daedalus. “He knows all this anyway. And Claire and Marcel are on their way. Petra—we know about the twins, obviously. We know that you kept it from all of us for seventeen years. What do you have to say for yourself?”

It was a measure of Daedalus’s arrogance that he was most offended by her not telling
him
—Petra was sure that if he alone had known, he would have been content to keep the secret from the others if it suited his purpose.

“I did as I thought best,” Petra said calmly. “I honored Clémence’s last wish, I honored the wishes of the twins’ father. And truly, all this never occurred to me—” She waved her hand, summing up Daedalus’s whole scheme. “Cerise’s descendants have always been my responsibility—none of you have offered to take on the burden. Why would I trouble you with these orphans when you couldn’t be bothered before?” She shrugged, sounding eminently reasonable.

“But surely you must have recognized the significance of twins!” Daedalus said coldly. “How many years ago did we start thinking about the possibility of a ritual? A ritual that all of us have wanted at one time or another.”

“Not all of us, Daedalus,” said Petra. “And frankly, after I had watched Clémence bleed to death, as I had watched Cerise’s other descendants bleed to death—instantly plugging her children into your grand plan never occurred to me.” Petra let her voice take on an edge of steel. Daedalus was trying to extend his influence—she would draw the line where it would stop. “I found myself with two newborn, motherless infants. Their father had no idea of Clémence’s background or who I was. He was heartbroken at her death, barely able to function. He felt he could deal with only one child, if that, and begged me to take care of the other. We kept in touch for years, but gradually our letters became less and less frequent, and then he moved and left no forwarding address. I’ve had no idea of Thais’s whereabouts for years.”

Petra was aware that the others were watching this exchange, back and forth like a tennis match. Some would agree with Daedalus, some with her, but above all else, each witch there was truly loyal only to him- or herself.

“All that is in the past, and the twins weren’t significant much before this, anyway,” Ouida said. “ The question is, what’s happening now?”

Daedalus moved to stand before the marble fireplace, striking a pose that Petra saw as rehearsed and theatrical. Really, did he think anyone would buy this persona? Didn’t he realize that the years had stripped away all their innocence forever? None of them would ever regain a fresh perspective, ever trust anything at face value, ever truly let down their guard again. Not even Sophie or Jules, who had always been the most trusting of them all.

“What’s happening now is that we’re working hard to put the rite together,” Daedalus said pompously. “Jules, Richard, and I. And now that you’re all here, we can move more quickly, with your help.”

Petra put disbelief and just a touch of scorn into her voice. “ The rite?
Déesse,
Daedalus, is that still the focus of your being? Have you not branched out by now?”

Daedalus schooled his face into calm, but Petra had seen the brief flash of rage in his eyes. She wondered if anyone else had. “Of course, Petra,” he said. “You’re not the only one who has pursued interests and achieved goals in this life. But yes, beneath all my business dealings, the companies I’ve founded, my pursuit of all of life’s experiences, there has always been a strong interest in . . . recapturing the past, shall we say. Some of you may have let that desire go. Some of you may not agree with how urgently I feel it’s necessary. But in my view, yes, the rite is imperative. I have never released that hope, never lost sight of that goal.”

He managed to make everyone else sound faithless and shortsighted, Petra acknowledged wryly. Point to him.

“To what end, Daedalus?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“To whatever end we agree on,” he came back. “That’s the beauty. With this one rite, we could each achieve whatever personal goals we have. But more important, we could reclaim a treasure that was lost to us long ago, one invaluable to our ancestors. It has kept this
famille
alive. This treasure would give us, the Treize, incalculable power—and it’s rightly ours. Surely you’re not truly prepared to let it go forever? Does it mean so little to you, Petra? After everything?”