ATwistedMagick (11 page)

Only one night had he gone to bed with one woman and one man, a cliff diver with a sleek shaven body. They’d shared the woman, a college student down from Texas, but Gabe had let this man touch him too. Had let him suck his cock until he was thrusting deep in his throat. But then he’d pushed him away and climbed on top of the lady—was her name Alice?—coming as soon as he entered her. Gabe had passed out and when he woke up during the night, he felt the guy rubbing his hard cock against his ass, felt the sticky pre-cum on his skin. The guy’s arm held him firm against his chest and his lips kissed his shoulder. Gabe, half draped over Alice, pretended he was still asleep while this man ground against him. As long as the guy didn’t actually fuck him, he wasn’t going to say anything, even when he felt the squirt of cum on his back. In the morning, the diver was gone, and Gabe had fucked Alice until she screamed.

But Shylah had experienced an orgy, probably more than once, and she’d fucked a married man without thought, and she’d believed in that magic malarkey. Had she really been that gullible? If she was capable of believing and doing sex magic, was she capable of performing human sacrifice, murder?

It made his mind hurt, but he couldn’t get it out of his head, even in the shower. He had a hard-on the whole time, until he finally jacked off just to get relief. But then he thought about going to confession for the first time in, what, ten years. Most of all, he wanted to confront Shylah about her beliefs, which seemed so different from his own.

Suddenly he heard Candice’s shrill voice in his head. “Because she’s a witch!”

He rubbed his hand down his face in horror. Was he really judging Shylah in the exact same way Candice was? Did he really want to be that type of person?

* * * * *

Shylah couldn’t stop worrying about Gabe reading her BOS, as she read tarot for several clients. Yes, it should prove she was innocent of murder, but some people had bigger hang-ups about sex than about violence. She hadn’t really brought her coven memories to the fore in quite some time. Her descriptions of sex magick would sound like orgies to the uninitiated, she knew, and no matter how much she reminded herself that she didn’t care what Gabe thought…she did.

Laying out her cards in the Celtic Cross form again, she immediately recognized divorce in the future. The cards had predicted this for three people this morning already. This time she brushed the cards back into a stack and handed them again to the client. “Please, reshuffle. Take your time. I want to make sure it’s your essence on the cards.”

Her client looked at her strangely but complied. This time the cards came out a bit different, but they still told the story of a divorce in her near future.

Goddess, help these women wake up to their cheating husbands sooner rather than later. She met her client’s eyes. “I don’t like to give negative readings, but I feel you need to be warned.”

“Am I going to die? Don’t tell me that!”

“No. This is about your husband. The pentacles clearly connect him with money as the reversed lovers imply divorce.” She closed her eyes to get a sense of the vibrations. “He’s stashing money in a separate account. Once it’s full enough he plans to ask for a divorce.”

The woman shot out of her chair. “That’s the meanest thing to say! I want my money back!”

Shylah sighed as she handed her the twenty she had just taken moments ago. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. Start looking for the signs, because he’s cheating on you as well.”

The woman gave her a full-on ugly face and stomped toward the door just as someone else entered. “I can’t believe it,” Shylah mumbled to herself. Candice Self had just walked into a New Age shop. Would she have to douse herself in holy water after this? Go to confession?

The self-righteous teacher zeroed in on Shylah’s stall. “I see you’ve garnered yourself another happy customer.” She gestured to the door as it swung close behind her former client.

Shylah shrugged as she scooped up and reshuffled her cards. “She needed to know the truth.”

“The truth? You know nothing of the Truth. Have you ever stepped foot into a Christian church?”

“Yes, for weddings and a few christenings. When my friends wish my presence at their celebrations, I go.”

“I didn’t think you had any friends.”

“You’ve made certain of that here, but I stay in touch with friends from other places I’ve lived.” She really didn’t need to explain herself to Candice, but she didn’t feel like sitting silent and taking it, since the self-righteous teacher had barged onto her turf. “The Christian bookstore is up the block; aren’t you in the wrong place?”

“I had to see for myself.”

“See what?” Shylah straightened the stack of tarot cards then slid them into their silk pouch.

“That you are using your lies to bilk innocent people out of money. I saw the ad, and I knew it had to be you.”

“Interesting, since I’m one of many tarot readers at this shop and throughout central Virginia. Have you been staking out everyone with ads?”

Candice scowled and kept silent about her stalking methods.

“What do you want, Candice? You’ve already gotten me fired. You’ve turned half the people in town against me. What more can you do?”

“I wanted to verify it was you so I could tell the few friends you still have remaining at the school what you’ve sunk to.”

“You’ve sunk to spying. I’d say that’s far worse.” Shylah was curious as to who her remaining friends were, since, other than just seeing Clement at the grocery store, she’d had no contact with any of the teachers since she was fired. Whether they believed her guilty or innocent, they probably hadn’t wanted to put their jobs at risk. Shylah took in a deep breath in the hopes of grounding herself, but Candice made that very hard to do. If only she were the murderer… but, no, she wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Someone truly evil killed those kids, and as much as she disliked Candice, she thought her snarky because of insecurities, not because of stark hatred.

Shylah had seen the face of evil before and it had looked nothing like this sorry woman.

One night Alain had convinced Shylah to try blood magick and that night she had seen the face of evil. In the here and now, Shylah shook herself to escape the chills sliding down her spine as rubbed the talisman on her neck, but she couldn’t escape the memory. They’d each pricked their fingers and squeezed a few drops of blood into a chalice filled with wine, one they could both drink from. They stood inside a chalk diagram that Alain had copied from the Book of Solomon. They’d called the Watchtowers together, but then he’d started chanting something in Latin, something she’d never heard before. The room’s temperature had seemed to drop several degrees and she’d wanted to stop right then, but she knew better than to break the safety of the circle while magick was being worked. Shadows encroached on her vision and Alain had seemed possessed. His voice deepened and his features grew grotesque. He’d shouted the last words of the spell and waited, but whatever he’d hoped for had disappointed him. They’d finally uncast the circle.

Shylah never wrote about that night in her Book of Shadows and she’d left New Orleans the next day, leaving half her belongings there in her rush to escape.

Candice’s grating voice pierced her memories. “Does your boss here know that you’re wanted for murder?”

It took an awful lot of deep breaths and centering to not strangle this woman sometimes. Shylah tried to keep her voice light. “I am my own boss, and if I were wanted for murder I would have been arrested by now.”

Candice never noticed when Gabe walked in, but Shylah certainly did. She’d taken on a sixth sense with him and his presence was like a long stroke down her body. She instantly wanted to jump his bones and she didn’t care who watched. A very, very dangerous way to feel considering Gabe still considered her a murder suspect. He shrugged off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder before sauntering up to Candice as she went off on another bout of Bible-thumping. It was easy to block her out entirely when this hunk of a man stood behind her radiating sex appeal.

A smile twitched at his mouth, but he tamped it down before he cleared his throat. Candice jumped a mile. Shylah bit her lip to keep from showing her pleasure. “I’m here for my reading,” he said, his deep voice sending fireworks through her nerve endings.

Candice whipped around to see who had spoken, and Gabe was close enough that she really had to crane her neck to see his face.

She frowned. “Oh it’s you. What are you doing here? You can’t possibly want to listen to her drivel.”

“But I do. I find her readings…and her writings…very enlightening.” He gazed into her eyes and she knew immediately that he referred to her BOS. Oh God, what had he read so far?

Shylah stood up to be on more even footing with the other teacher. “Candice, it’s twenty dollars for a reading. If you’re not interested, then please step out of the way for my paying customers.”

“He pays you?” She made it sound like he was paying her for sex.

“This is my only source of income at the moment, so if he wants a reading he does.”

Candice glared at Gabe. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

Gabe pulled out a twenty and stepped forward, forcing Candice to back up to avoid being walked over. “It certainly isn’t. I consider this research for the investigation.” Which reminded Shylah that, though she was grateful for his interference with her nemesis, she still needed to be on her guard. Goddess, she was so tired of being on her guard, being under attack.

Shylah accepted his money and slid it into her lockbox under the table. She sat again and gestured for Gabe to do so. He did and Shylah picked up her cards once again, looking pointedly at Candice, since she wouldn’t take a hint and leave. “Candice, my clients expect privacy during their readings. Please get lost.”

Gabe barely covered his smirk under his fingers. The woman huffed, spun on her heels and marched out of the store.

“Thank God,” Shylah mumbled. She smiled brightly at Gabe, but his expression had changed from congenial to something else. “Thanks for saving me. Did you truly want a reading, or were you just chivalrously helping me get rid of her?”

“I want to talk to you, and since this is your work day and I might keep you from other customers, I think it’s only fair to pay for a reading.”

She leaned over and pulled the twenty back out, plopping it down on the table in front of him. “I will do whatever I can to help with the investigation, and you don’t need to pay me for it.”

Elbows on the table, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward, ignoring the twenty. “But I do want a reading.”

“Fine, but it’s on the house.” She shuffled the cards a couple more times, letting her energy respond to their energy, then she handed the cards to Gabe. “Shuffle these several times then cut.”

He followed her instructions, but his eyes never left her face. What was he thinking? She wished she could read him better. When he handed the cards back to her she laid them out and once again found death in the future position. Scared she’d see the skull on his face again, she kept her eyes carefully lowered to the cards. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You aren’t going to tell me what these mean?”

“You don’t believe, so why bother? Just tell me what you want.” She sounded snippy even to herself, but his voice was loaded with sarcasm, so he deserved it. And she’d rather be on the offense than have him scoff her.

“I borrowed something from you.”

She sighed. “Borrowed? Doesn’t that imply asking permission first?”

“I figured I’d ask forgiveness later. I took one of your journals.”

“My Book of Shadows. I know.”

“You know? Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Because I didn’t realize it until I rechecked the attic after you left. Are you giving it back now?”

“No, I’m not quite through with it. You don’t seem the least bit shocked that I took it.”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“Don’t you?”

She met his piercing eyes dead on. “Have you reached the part where we were questioned by the police about a murder?”

“Yes. The details seemed sketchy though.”

“There was a lot going on in my life then, and since I knew none of us had committed it, I didn’t spend much thought on it.”

“Too busy sleeping with your high priest and using magic as an excuse for orgies?” No mistaking the contempt in his eyes.

“Arousal is a very powerful tool when used in circle.”

“Sure it is.” His scowl deepened. “So you’d do it again?”

“If I thought it applied to a specific working, but I am a solitary now, so I would have to use a much different method.” She gave him a half smile, hoping she looked as inscrutable as the Mona Lisa. Of course, she hadn’t used sex magick in any form since she’d left New Orleans, because it always made her think of Alain as he’d used it to bend magick to his will. “Gray” magick was when it was used for selfish reasons. “Black” was when it was used for evil. Shylah remembered Alain cutting a lock of her hair and putting it in a vial. The memory was somewhat cloudy; she thought she might’ve been stoned at the time.

Gabe traced the pattern on one of the cards. “He coerced you, you know, with his position, peer pressure and false pretenses. Couldn’t you tell that when you started losing coven members?”

She lowered her voice as she heard customers in the nearby stacks. “I willingly participated and…I willingly left when I felt I had to.”

“How could you possibly believe in that mumbo jumbo?” His voice conveyed disgust. “What made you choose to teach children after all that?”

Shylah gasped. She actually felt like she’d been slapped. Not because of the mumbo jumbo comment, but because he questioned her teaching. “I wanted to help…” She stopped when she realized she was about to offer an excuse. She didn’t have to excuse herself to him. “You sound just like Candice Self!” The nearby voices ceased since she’d shouted that last bit.

Damn, but how many people lived through the free love and drug era and later became teachers and doctors and officers? If it weren’t for the magick aspect, would he be questioning her teaching children? She wanted to debate him, but bit her tongue. The past couldn’t be changed, and she’d already lost her job, so the point was moot. If Candice had her way, Shylah would never teach children again.

She pulled the cards towards her with shaking hands. “So aside from trying to shame me, was there something you wanted to ask for the investigation? You didn’t seem to be so prudish in the solarium.” How could she have slept with him again, a man who so completely misunderstood her?

He shook his head. “I have to ask myself how far you’d go for magic. If you believe in sex magic, could you possibly believe in human sacrifice?”

She launched to her feet, face heated, fists clenched. She scattered the cards, picked up the twenty he’d ignored, balled it up tightly and threw it at him. “Take your damn money and go.”

He stood slowly and stared at her for a few moments, while she balled her hands in fists to keep from smacking him. When he turned away, he left the money on the floor and stalked out of the store, broad shoulders stiff, no backward glance. Part of Shylah’s heart broke, the part that naively thought making love twice might mean something.

Head ducked to avoid curious customer gazes, she rushed to the bathroom and spent several minutes staring at her face in the mirror, trying to calm herself down. She finally gave up and closed down her stall. As she said goodbye to Becky, the older woman patted her arm. “I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry if I startled any customers. I hope I didn’t scare any off.”

“A little drama is good for the reputation.” She gave her a kind smile, which Shylah returned. She left the store, feeling a tad calmer just knowing she had Becky on her side. Becky didn’t know about the murder, as far as Shylah knew, but she knew about prejudice, wearing her pentagram every day in clear view, her practice as a witch driving her husband away.

Outside on the cobblestones, folks nearly ran into her as she took a deep breath. Going home meant going back to that damn closed-minded town, and she just couldn’t deal right now. She decided to walk the mall for a couple hours instead, enjoying the varied performers and the cute stands along the pedestrian-only street. She finally found herself in front of the movie theater. She bought a ticket for the latest action sequel. Inside, she chomped on popcorn, trying to forget Gabe’s contempt, assuring herself she didn’t give a damn what he thought.

* * * * *

Gabe squealed out of the parking lot and drove all the way to Waynesboro before he calmed down. He’d alienated Shylah good this time. She was sure to protect herself with silence if he came to ask her more questions. For that, he wanted to pound his head against the steering wheel. It made him so angry that she believed in something so unbelievable, that she would go as far as she did for no real reason at all. And now, in hindsight, she still wouldn’t admit to any foolishness, to any wrongdoing.

And why, if he harshly judged Shylah himself, did he take offense when he’d heard Candice doing it? Why did he immediately want to rescue Shylah from the onslaught? She deserved it, didn’t she?

But every time he remembered how she’d described her feelings during each orgy—because that’s what they’d been, even if they called them “rites”—his body betrayed him. His cock stirred, and seeing her in person had only made his frustration worse. He’d wanted to toss her to the floor and take her again. He’d wanted to lose himself inside her wetness while her husky voice whispered in his ear, detailing everything the coven men had done to her body and how every lick and thrust had felt.

He adjusted his now painfully hard cock in his jeans, but the zipper still pressed hard against it, so he unzipped his pants. He pulled in at an overlook, parking several spaces down from the nearest car, and thrust his hand in his pants, trying to ease the ache.

Damn, he was a mess, and he needed to stay away from that journal for a while. Liquid leaked from the slit in his cock. This wasn’t enough. He needed…he wanted to come. He un-tucked his shirt to cover the bulge in his pants, though the nearest sightseers were several feet away, and got out, locked his car and walked to the far end of the overlook where the stone fence barrier ended in a bunch of brush. The view of the valley was gorgeous. He leaped over and found a secluded spot. Finally he could push his pants fully out of the way and grip his cock in his rough fist.

He lay back against the scruffy mountainside and closed his eyes, remembering the way Shylah had smelled and tasted surrounded by moss and trees. He slowly raised and lowered his hand, fingers touching his thumb in an O around his cock. With his other hand he cupped his balls and imagined Shylah below him sucking and licking them, kissing his inner thighs, gripping his ass with her hands and licking the back of his cock slowly, so slowly. Circling the sensitive head with her tongue before slipping her lips around him completely.

The top of his cock was wet enough that he could use it to lubricate as he moved his fist faster and faster. He could almost feel Shylah’s mouth on him, sucking him in deeper, until he touched the back of her throat. He imagined her watching him, judging how each suck and slide affected him. He was half in and half out of his imagination when he came, hard. He continued to squeeze the head of his cock, releasing every drop of liquid as he waited for his heart and breathing to slow. Oh God, he wanted Shylah more than ever. He wanted to suck her clit and lick her hole, taste her juices, her feminine smell mixing with the fragrance of the wildflowers and the sweet breeze. She’d probably thrive on making love out here in the open.

Gabe opened his eyes finally and gingerly arranged his cock back inside his pants, pulling the zipper up.

Then he remembered the cards, the strange look Shylah had given him the first time he’d visited her stall and this time the chill he’d felt seeing the death card again. He’d been totally preoccupied with other thoughts, but now he remembered how Shylah had avoided telling him what the cards meant, had changed the topic completely. Maybe she was trying to use the power of suggestion to threaten him, but she’d seemed surprised and worried. He’d swear she hadn’t liked what she’d interpreted.

He rose to a squat and eyed the stone wall above him. Seeing no one, he scrambled back up and stepped over it. A little boy standing behind his parents at the memorial eyed him funny as he appeared, so he made a face in return, getting the kid to smile before turning to take his mother’s hand.

Gabe always assumed he’d have several kids one day, not only because he was raised Catholic but because he knew the power of family looking after each other. And he knew he’d have plenty of love to go round. But that day had seemed distant, even for the few months he’d been married. His business wasn’t solvent yet. He didn’t own a house, didn’t have a savings account. How could he be a good father if he couldn’t be a good provider? Many in his neighborhood lived close to poverty level, their lives hard though they worked hard at sometimes more than one job at a time. Gabe wanted to be sure he could provide his kids everything they would need, like a college education, nice clothes and shoes, a computer they could share, even cell phones when they were old enough.

He wasn’t ready for his own little family.

But what if Shylah was pregnant?

He shook his head as he turned the ignition key and listened to the rental car motor come to life. He rolled the windows down as he drove out of the semicircle drive back onto I-64.