Blood of the Sorceress (11 page)

“You’ll change your mind,” she said, the brave words emerging in a determined whisper as she stared up into his angry eyes.

“No, I won’t. And I’m not going to let you stay here to try to bewitch me into it, either. I’ve heard your offer. I’ve made my decision.” He’d done it, he thought, silently congratulating himself even while wondering if he had lost his mind. He must have, to say the words he spoke next. “And now I want you to go.”

“Demetrius, please, I—”

“Go.” He released her shoulders and pointed at the door through which she’d entered, which led downstairs to the second story and the rest of the sprawling mansion.

She held his eyes. Hers seemed stunned. And then they changed. Her face went from wary and wounded to angry in the time it took him to fling his pointed finger toward the exit again for emphasis. And then she moved as fast as a cobra striking. Ducking beneath his raised arm, she yanked his precious dagger from the sheath at his hip and sliced the air twice.

Only it wasn’t the air.

It was his palm and her palm, and then she smashed the two together, closing her hand around his with a grip that was amazingly strong. “By soul and body, blood and bone, nevermore to walk alone!”

His palm burned. It literally sizzled, and a tendril of smoke rose from their pressed hands. He jerked his free and, holding his wrist with his free hand, sucked air through his teeth.

The witch held her own smoldering palm upright, blowing on the blackened center, and he watched as it began to heal. Quickly he turned his own palm up and gazed at it as it magically did the same. Ah, so she shared the ability to heal rapidly. What else? he wondered. What other powers did this beautiful witch possess? And what spell had she cast?

“What the hell did you just do?” he asked.

She smiled. “Don’t worry. I didn’t restore your soul, Demetrius. I can’t do that until you want it, until you ask for it. I can’t work against your will. This,” she said, turning her palm toward him, “was just a little binding spell. From now on, where you go, I go. There’s an invisible bond between us, pulling us together like a rubber band. Your soul was already doing that, calling the piece I hold back to the ones you possess, to unite them again. But the connection is even stronger now. You can’t get rid of me, my love.”

“Not ever?” he asked, not even thinking to doubt that what she said was true.

“Not until this is finished, one way or the other.” She tilted her head. “You haven’t said my name. Not once since I’ve been here. Do you even know what it is?”

Feeling petulant, he lowered his eyes.

“Say my name, love. Say my name.”

She made the words a little song, gave them a melody, and before he knew what he was doing, he met her eyes and whispered, “Lilia.”

Her smile was wide and as blinding as a sudden spotlight appearing in a darkened room. “You do remember.”

“This isn’t fair, what you’ve done. Binding us together like this.”

“Love did that long ago.”

“Still, you said I had the freedom to make this choice. Now you’re using magic to—”

“I can’t work against your will, Demetrius,” she said, moving closer, lifting a hand to his face and sliding it upward so her impossibly soft palm rasped over his whiskers. “That binding spell wouldn’t work unless some part of you, no matter how small, or how deeply buried, wanted it to. Magic cannot work on the unwilling.”

She shrugged and turned toward the stair door. “I left my things down in that cozy living room off the foyer. I’ll go get them. Should I pick any bedroom I like? Or do you have a preference?”

He blinked at her, wondering how a tiny thing like her had wrested control of this entire situation away from him. He said nothing, and she beamed back at him.

“It’s going to be all right, Demetrius. I know it seems impossible now, but it truly is.” Then her smile widened and tears brimmed again. “Goddess, it’s so good to see you again.” She closed her eyes, exhaled hard, then hurried out of his suite.

And even before she reached the bottom of the stairs, he knew her spell had worked, because he felt it: that rubber band stretching out between them, pulling at him.

Dammit, no wonder the old priest had told him this was going to be difficult. It already was, far more difficult than he had ever expected it to be.

* * *

There was evil in this place. Lilia continued to sense it, almost smell it. She was going to have to find the source and eliminate it before she could hope to get through to Demetrius. Someone had poisoned his mind against her, someone who did not want her to succeed. And she had a feeling it was that same someone whose presence reeked so virulently. The man Demetrius had mentioned, then refused to identify.

The notion of Tomas’s former mentor, Father Dom, whispered through her mind, but no. That made no sense. He was only just out of a coma, and that only days ago. He couldn’t have made such a long journey alone, and might not even remember the circumstances surrounding his accident, his past.

But who else could it be? Who would want to thwart her efforts?

She stopped at the first door she came to after reaching the second floor, because it was the bedroom closest to Demetrius. She’d wanted to stay on the same floor he was on, but his suite took up the entire floor and she didn’t think she would have much luck talking—or even enchanting—him into that. Not today, at least. She would just have to work on that tomorrow.

For now, she needed to settle in and take some time to celebrate how far she’d managed to come. She was here, in his house, and she’d cast the binding spell. He remembered her name. It was a good start.

Pushing open the bedroom door, she saw that it was apparently vacant, done in pale blue, with vivid white window casings and closet doors.

The carpet was white, too, and the bedspread a deep sapphire that looked as shiny as satin. There was a tiny balcony beyond French doors she had at first mistaken for tall windows. It was just big enough for the small, round wrought-iron table and two chairs that occupied it.

Sighing in absolute pleasure, she slipped off her shoes and stepped inside, her feet sinking into the pristine carpet. “Oh, this is paradise,” she whispered. And then she passed the white dresser and the matching white bed and nightstands into the bathroom. It was a beautiful room, all porcelain and stainless steel, very modern, with an oversize Jacuzzi and a shower with three heads.

“Angel?” Gus called from the hallway.

She came out of the bathroom and saw him peeking in at her. “It’s Lilia.”

“Still look like an angel to me,” he said. “I got worried when I couldn’t find you.”

“I’m so sorry I worried you, Gus. I found Demetrius, and I just couldn’t wait to see him again. It’s been...a very long time.”

He smiled, nodding as if he understood perfectly. “So how did it go?”

She tilted her head. “I think it went well. He didn’t send me packing, at least.”

His eyes crinkled in delight. “So you’re staying, then?”

“Yes, right here in this room, if it’s okay with everyone.”

“It’s the room I’d have picked for you. The colors suit you, and it’s as beautiful as you are.”

She had to lower her head, because her cheeks were heating. “Thank you, Gus.”

“I brought your bag,” he said, setting it just inside the door. He hadn’t yet crossed the threshold, maybe old-fashioned enough to think it wasn’t appropriate for a man to be inside a woman’s bedroom unless they were intimate. “I was hoping he’d let you stay.”

“And he did. We both got our wish.”

He extended an elbow her way. “Would you like the grand tour now?”

“Absolutely,” she told him, as, stepping into the hallway, she hooked her arm through his. He patted her hand, gazed at her adoringly, and something familiar lit and then vanished in his eyes, like a lightning bug on a hot July night.

* * *

Hours later Lilia was back in her room, exhausted and ready for a solid night’s sleep. Being human had its downfalls, though she thought her state had more to do with emotional turmoil than physical exertion. The long trip out here, worrying all the way, the fear that he would reject her, send her away before she could even make her case. The excitement of seeing him again, touching him again. Oh, she wanted so much more of that touching.

She had showered after her tour of the mansion and grounds, then changed into a soft white linen night shift that Selma had chosen for her. Everything she owned had been a gift.

“Just like life itself. It’s a gift, too,” she said as she clambered onto the huge bed. The mattress topper was a foot thick and down-filled, and she sank into it like sinking into a cloud.

She was holding the ancient treasure chest that had survived these past thirty-five-hundred years along with her and her sisters. She’d brought it with her, the witches’ box that had been kept down through the centuries. Before their deaths so long ago, Indira had entrusted it to the little girl who’d been their servant in the harem. Slave girl to the slave girls, she’d called herself, and proudly. Her name had been Amarrah.

Under the unseen guidance of Lilia’s own spirit, Amarrah had seen to the box’s safety, which had been left in the possession of generations upon generations of her own descendants, until Indira had managed to locate it again. It had an enchanted lock that only the three sisters could open.

Indy thought she’d read all of the scrolls. But Lilia knew better. She’d only seen what she had needed to see to get her through her part of this journey, to complete her sacred mission, to set Demetrius free.

Now the scrolls would reveal more. They would tell Lilia what she herself needed to know. The chest’s black iron padlock had no keyhole, serving only as a distraction. Lilia turned the box over and looked at the bottom, where there was a brightly painted grid with symbols of the Tarot painted in the boxes.

To open the box, she needed to touch the squares in the right order.

The Lovers, for her and Demetrius, she thought. That was where this had all begun. She touched the square, and it lit up.

The Tower with its roof blasted off, for the way their love had been torn apart. The way they were ripped from each other through no fault of their own. It lit up, too.

Finally she touched the Wheel of Fortune, for the cycle that was nearing its end and the new one that would begin when it was done.

The Wheel lit up. All three images glowed momentarily, then faded again. And the box was still locked.

Frowning, Lilia reached for her cell phone, only to have it ring before she touched it. Smiling, pleased that the synchronicity they’d always shared was apparently still intact, she answered. “Hello, sister.”

“Hey, sis,” Indira said. “We’ve got you on speaker. Lena’s here, too. So what’s up? Did you find the asshole yet?”

She pressed her lips to keep from asking Indy not to refer to her love that way. From her sister’s perspective, Lilia knew, he deserved that and worse. “I’ve found him, yes. He’s living like a king in a mansion amid the vortices of southern Arizona.”

“Well, that figures,” Lena said. “According to my scrying, he’s aware of most of his powers at this point. He knows how to wield the dagger—he’s had that one down for a while. He’s only recently learned how to scry using the chalice, and he’s apparently a little bit afraid of it. And he may or may not realize that using the blade and the cup together allows him to manifest his desires, as he’s only done so that one time to bring you through the veil into our world and to get that posh lifestyle he’s currently living.”

“What about the amulet?” Lilia asked.

“He doesn’t know what the amulet does yet,” Lena told her. “And that’s all I’ve got. So where are you staying?”

“In his mansion.”

“He let you stay?” Indy asked. “Nice job, Lilia. Really, that’s a great sign.”

“Not really.”

“Explain,” Indira commanded.

Lilia heaved a sigh. “He doesn’t remember me, Indy. I can’t believe it, but he just doesn’t remember anything about...about us. The love we shared. I didn’t think it was possible for him to forget, but—”

“Sweetheart,” Lena said softly. “None of us remembered our shared history at first. Have you forgotten?”

Lilia sniffed and nodded, even though she knew they couldn’t see her over the telephone. “All he remembers are my name and being imprisoned in the Underworld, and he’s desperately afraid of being returned to that state.”

“Well, who can blame him? It must have been like an endless nightmare,” Indira said.

“There’s something else going on here, though,” Lilia told her sisters. “Someone apparently warned Demetrius that I was coming and told him that the three of us were to blame for his being stripped of his soul and sentenced to that horror from the start.”

“What?” They spoke in unison, making Lilia smile despite the problem she was still trying to work out.

“Someone told him that we had tricked him into murdering King Balthazorus just so we could get free of the harem.”

“Isn’t he aware,” Indy asked, “of the pesky little fact that we’re the ones who busted his sorry ass out of the Underworld?”

“Yes. And he believes that we only did it so we can rob him of his powers and send him right back again.”

“But you told him otherwise,” Magdalena whispered. “Didn’t you?”

“Of course I did, but he didn’t believe me.”

“Well, you’d better make him believe you, little sis, and soon.” Indy again.

“Why soon?”

“Tell her, Lena.”

Lena cleared her throat. “My scrying revealed a deadline.”

Sighing, Lilia lowered her head. “I was afraid there would be one. When? Tell me, sister.”

“Beltane,” she whispered. “It falls on May fifth this year.”

“That’s only a week away!” Lilia shouted the words, then clapped a hand over her mouth and shot a nervous look at her closed bedroom door. “By the Goddess, how will I convince him in such a short time?”

“You’re no ordinary woman, Lilia, much less an ordinary witch.”

“Indy’s right,” Lena said. “You’ve spent three-thousand, five-hundred years in the Upperworlds. The heavenly realms. You must have achieved understanding, even enlightenment, by now.”