The Companion Witch, page 24
“If you join me, we won’t be coming back out. Give me ten minutes of peace before I bed your living corpse.” She slipped out of his arms and sauntered over to the shower. “I did save you from a Root after all.”
Chapter 35
Magnus
He was waiting on the bed with two glasses of wine on his side table. Next to the glasses, there was a complete bird skeleton preserved underneath a glass top and a stack of books about the Spanish Inquisition. She held back a snort as she wrapped her towel, fluffy and black, around herself. He’d somehow managed to find rose petals and spread them across the bed.
“That was fast,” she said with a raised brow. “From Seymour’s garden?”
“Only the best for you,” he said and sprawled across the bed. He fetched one glass of wine for her and presented it to her with a flourish. “My lady.”
She accepted the glass and took three sips before handing it back. “Don’t tell Seymour or Rima. I’m sure I’m not supposed to drink with this medicine.” He beckoned her to the bed, but she cackled and dodged his arm. She walked a circle before the bed and frowned. “I can’t possibly work with the towel for a striptease.”
“I won’t complain.” He pulled himself into a laying position on the bed, putting his hand into his hands as he watched her with an enchanted look. “I’ll be your best client.”
She smirked. “Imagine music.” He nodded obediently and closed his eyes, conjuring up a mental melody. “Keep your eyes closed.” He frowned but complied. She snapped her fingers and the lights dimmed to a sensual mood, tinged a wild violet.
“I’ve always loved bossy women.”
“How lucky. I’m the bossiest.” She approached him, dancing forward with slow movements. Purposefully, she dragged her feet on the heavy rug beneath her feet. She could see him suppressing shivers. She licked her lips. Good. She still had the goods.
With a careful movement, she stood in front of him and dragged to the towel down. As it fell, she used one hand to slowly drag the fabric over his face, knowing that it contained her scent. He breathed in deeply and sighed.
“You’re killing me.” His claws tugged onto the fabric.
She leaned down to whisper into his ear, “You’re already dead.” With triumph, she straightened while tracing his chin with one finger. “You can look.” He drew himself up and opened his eyes. His gaze went from the floor to the top of her head. She cocked a hip to one side, putting a hand on her hip. He sighed, a lustful and wanting sound, and drew her against him. Her body melted against his pull, but her skin erupted into goosebumps at his cold touch.
“Your body is exquisite. Honestly.” His breath held as he looked at her. He trailed a gentle nail over her forehead. “That mind though. It’s wicked.” He shuddered in delight. She thought of asking if she compared to the empress, it pushed the thought away. Only joy and themselves here tonight. No petty squabbles of the heart, no fine strokes for the ego. She grasped his wrist, felt the cool was beneath her fingertips, the slow beating pulse of supernatural blood.
“You’re right,” she purred back. “It is wicked.” She pushed him and he fell back onto the bed, vanquished. With a snap of her hands, she whispered a string of Latin phrases and his eyes sparked. He would’ve made out the binding aspect. Her magic felt stronger than ever. Perhaps her magic had been ready before she was for her feelings for the vamp. What was magic after all, but a wish that your heart whispered into the quiet thrum of the night?
His claws were delicate blade crawling up her back. He breathed in her scent and she bent to capture his lips. He pressed against her, his hands roaming her curves, the hardened slopes of her muscled form. Every touch produced a tinge of pain, her body sore from the fight, but it was mixed with an incredible pleasure.
“A little thrall,” she begged of him. His fangs gleamed happily. He changed before her like the last time, but it was better. She was ready. She lifted her hands out as he moved against her, pulling her down onto the bed. His clothes came off easily beneath her desperate hands. Her panting seemed outside of herself. He pinned her beneath him playfully and she cried out in pleasure as his teeth skirted the soft skin of her thigh.
His tongue licked her entrance gently and she jumped at the movement. His movements began and she began to whisper things, demands that he go on for hours or years if he could keep it up. He chuckled, dark and deep, as his movements quickened. She shuddered as the minutes went on, lost to the sensation of his touch, feeling the rhythm of his strange life energy beating alongside her own.
“What better way to thank a job well done,” he told her, kissing her thighs as he came back up. She eyed him lazily. It felt as the bed was swallowing her. “Are you ready for the final act?”
“Always ready for a fight.” She leaned upwards, using all the strength left in her melted body, and pressed her lips against his. “Fight me, Magnus.” He needed no further encouragement. She scraped her nails down his side in delight as he straddled her. His first thrust was a lustful thing and the following battle was desperate. She clung to him, her nails digging deeper, as she cried out and moved against him. This, she could do for days and perhaps she would. Time passed as an abstract. They kissed and parted as they shifted in the bed. She giggled as his claws, so careful to be gentle on her skin, tickled her.
In a perfectly imperfect arrival of pleasure, they cried out together. She fought against him as she came, a delicious wave of pleasure crashing over her body like a magnificent wave. He shuddered as she tightened around him and came soon after. Their foreheads met and their breathing mixed, their panting loud in the shadowy quiet.
When he collapsed beside her, she buried her face into his cold chest and sighed against it. He squirmed from her hot breath and held her against him. His hand stroked her hair with a gentle movement. She whispered magical words that would preserve their pleasure, words that she hadn’t used in a while.
But they were back to the world.
“I’m worried,” she confessed.
“Tell me,” he told her. “Tell me all your troubles.”
All of them? She could feel her stormy thoughts beating against her ribcage like frenzied moths, throwing themselves at the hard bones of her emotional walls. She propped herself up on her arms to look at him.
“I’m worried. I’m worried that one day, I’ll love you more than you love me. I’m worried that I’ll be devastated if you ever decide to leave me or if we fall apart naturally. I’m worried that you’ll god mad or more likely that I’ll grow old before you do. I’m worried that my soul will be snatched by the Devil for eternity.” He grazed his claws lightly over her naked shoulder.
“My soul is damned. Your soul is damned.” He shrugged. “Life is chaos. We’ll keep fighting together. As for love—” He took a perfect beat. “I can’t promise eternal happiness or that I won’t drive you mad with my dusty books or grave robbing. I can’t promise that I won’t eventually turn into a raving deranged beast that you have to stab a stake through. But there are things I can promise you.
“I promise you honesty. Respect. Loyalty. Adoring applause when I catch you doing a striptease in some far-flung corner.” His clawed fingers swept through her hair and caressed her face, sending delicious tingles down the whole of her body. Her lips parted, undone by his touch. “I promise to give you endless moments of pleasure so long as you want it.”
“Bold to assume that I won’t have you on your knees, begging,” she whispered huskily. His lips went up. “I’ll have you again, I think.”
“Anything my demonic witch wants,” he purred.
And then he pounced.
Lulu
Loving Magnus wouldn’t be easy, Lulu knew. It was the good hard kind of love that never demanded you be perfect but encouraged you to be honest even when it was difficult. A love that she only knew in the companionship of her fellow dancers and work family, a love that showed up continually in her own companion missions—even her defensive punches.
To protect something is a funny thing. You must allow it freedom, allow it to resist any control, even that which might make it perfectly safe. Love doesn’t come from control, but respect.
She’d always been okay alone. She survived. The pulling of her heart’s thread had begun with her alliance to The Cat’s Meow and her companion clients. It had come full circle when death stared her in the face and she met that gaze with fear, yes, and hard-won strength. She rolled her neck. An excited chill ran up her spine.
She’d protected what she loved.
And she would keep on doing that.
“You know,” Magnus announced from the armchair in his study, his handsome nose shoved into an open book. “I’ve been reading about a fascinating emperor who may have found a way to cancel out a contract with a demon. Supposedly, it’s wrapped up with him in his tomb.”
“I was thinking lovey-dovey thoughts about you. Don’t ruin the moment.” She was curled up on his sofa beneath a plush blanket, holding a cup of tea. Her head lolled to the side lazily and she set the cup on the table beside the couch. “Give me a week before more grave exploring. Or five. I want to go dance again at work. I want to cuddle Lucifer for a full day. I want to eat some Thai noodles from the place near my apartment, about eighty orders of it.”
“Fair enough,” he said definitively and shut the book. A cloud of dust came up from the movement and she laughed as he swiped his face free of grime. “Is it funny?” he coaxed. “Would you like some?” He descended upon her like a madman and she cried out in laughter as his dusty lips attempted to touch her own.
“Get away from me, old man!” she screeched as she squirmed beneath him.
“Old?” He stopped and threw his hair back. She could see the dust particles falling in the low light from the lamps. “I’m a strapping three-hundred years.”
“Yes,” she muttered. “A sexy three-hundred at that.”
“See, those are the types of compliments I could’ve used all along our adventure.”
Her eyebrow quirked. “We wouldn’t exactly have worked much if we’d been flirting.”
“I would venture to say that flirting took up most of your time,” Seymour’s voice cut through their banter. Magnus sighed.
“I’m putting a damn bell around your neck. I’m serious this time,” he said. The corner of Seymour’s lips went up a centimeter. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. It was pleasant to see the brothers not at each other’s throats. Magnus lifted himself off of Lulu and sat at the end of the couch. “Are you here to lecture us on birth control? You’re a little late.”
“Magnus!” she snapped.
He lifted his hands defensively. “Sorry, sorry, inappropriate. What I meant to ask is what the fuck are you doing in my study, brother?”
“You appear to have a visitor.” Seymour bowed his head and stepped to the side. Behind him, a figure moved forward. Lulu sat up with a gasp at the familiar black robes.
“Copper!”
Chapter 36
Copper, the young witch from Salem, had a weathered duffel bag in one hand and a smile on her face. Dark circles were carved beneath her honey eyes, but her lips refused to fall. A sleek raven was perched on her shoulder, eyeing the canoodling couple on the couch with beady eyes.
“I found you,” she cried with excitement and threw her bag down on the study’s floor. “I’ve been travelling for two days!”
“How?” Lulu asked, as she rose to greet her. She didn’t remember telling Copper where they lived. It would’ve been too dangerous on their mission, but the younger witch had tracked them before. Behind her, Magnus cleared his throat awkwardly.
“I may have invited her to escape her coven and find us in New Obsidia,” he said slowly and raised a wagging finger. “But I said on her eighteenth birthday.”
“It was two days ago,” Copper informed them proudly with her hands on her hips. Seymour aimed a fierce look at Magnus.
“Magnus, are you running a hotel in our family’s estate?” His cold voice cut through the mirth. Lulu hugged Copper, ignoring the oncoming battle brewing, whispering for the young girl to do the same. There was always Lulu’s apartment. No need to worry.
“To be fair, Copper is the one that made me realize how the Roots were operating,” Magnus said in a loud voice. “She was the genius that cracked the case.”
“I was?” Copper asked with a scrunched-up face. “What are Roots?”
“Yes, you saved my life without knowing,” Magnus said. Seymour threw a half-murderous look towards him. “Perhaps we should discuss this over a meal.”
Seymour pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will have something prepared. Miss Copper,” he turned to her and bowed. “My brother will be happy to show you to a guest room.” He threw daggers at Magnus. “Wouldn’t you?”
Magnus trotted out the door, waving along Copper. Lulu followed them and shot a sympathetic glance towards Seymour, mouthing the word, “Sorry.” It wasn’t difficult to find Copper a room in the mansion. They chose the room that Lulu had used during her last stay. After letting the young witch get ready, they headed to the main dining hall while Copper marveled at everything that she passed. The raven on her shoulder refused to leave.
“His name is Skip,” she told them proudly. “Skipper when he’s being an ass.”
Rima was already waiting for them. Lulu would never know how Rima managed to eternally look like a princess at all moments, but she would have to ask.
“You must’ve been the one trying to hack our communication mirrors,” Rima said in a stony, but amused voice. Copper blushed, her freckles nearly disappearing among the red on her cheeks.
“It was hard to find this place,” she admitted in a small voice. She and Lulu dined on a dish of primavera pasta while the Imperium Clan nursed glasses of blood. Lulu thought about finally asking them where their blood came from but thought better of it when Copper flashed her wide smile from across the table. After dinner, they served tea and Lulu whispered comforting things into it, hoping that her newly demonic magic wouldn’t make the green peach tea too shadowy. She placed a cup in front of Copper who accepted it gladly, sighing with happiness as she blew over the top of it. Lulu joined her seat beside Magnus, who was raising his glass.
“To escaping ancient vampires,” he said. “To believing conspiracy theories.” This, he delivered with a wink to Seymour, who opened his mouth to fire off a reply.
Copper gasped suddenly. Her tea nearly spilled over the rim of the cup. She waved a quick hand to steady it and the cup gave a little shake, settling down back into the saucer.
“I nearly forgot,” she said with a jagged breath. “Margaret! She said something else before I left. I mean, her grave did.” They stared at her.
“You said that she’s been repeating the same thing,” Lulu said. “What did the grave say?”
Copper leaned forward and turned her mouth into a half-pout. “Well, it’s not very helpful and I think maybe she was going mad at the end. It’s actually not unheard of in the messages left behind by witches when they’re dying. But it’s strange that she said something new after she kept repeating the same thing.” She shrugged. “Margaret wished she could’ve thanked the tall man in the long coat.” She scratched at her chipped blue nail polish. “I saw a flash of him. The way he walked was so strange. Like he was folding under the weight of his coat.”
Lulu’s skin erupted into goosebumps and Magnus went to grab her hand. He squeezed it and leaned forward, nearly wheezing with excitement.
“His fingers, Copper. What did his fingers look like?”
Copper finished scraping off all the polish on her thumbnail. She looked at him in astonishment. “Why, funny you should ask. They were as long as straws. I saw them peeking out from beneath the long sleeves of his overcoat.”
“A Root?” Seymour asked, eyeing Magnus.
“Possibly,” Magnus muttered. “Quite likely.”
Seymour tapped a claw on the table, slowly and calmly calling every eye come to him. He said, “Perhaps not all the Roots are working together.”
“Baal never showed his face in all this,” Magnus breathed. “I thought it was laziness. But, perhaps—”
“He was afraid,” Lulu said as the thought forced itself out. “We’ve been assuming that we only have enemies.”
“My mom says that we always have more help than we think,” Copper said in a chipper voice as she gently stroked the skull next to her with something like admiration in her eyes. Everyone turned to look at her. She smiled. “Maybe he will find us.”
“In the meantime, we will keep searching for Alphonse,” Seymour said. “We must.” He turned to Lulu and Magnus. “Perhaps having a superb team of supernatural detectives will help.” Lulu felt Magnus brush against her, and he leaned his head against her shoulder.
“Superb team,” he drawled. “Did you hear that, Lu? That means we’ve got to get back to grave robbing.”
Copper smiled at them from across the table with her tea in her hand. “Sounds fun.”
“That’s the spirit,” he said.
Lulu felt an odd stir in her heart as the room descended into conversation. Magnus was now arguing some point about grave robbing to Seymour while Copper watched in delight and Rima referred. She leaned back in her chair, smiling to herself.
After leaving the coven, she was never sure that she would find another family again.
And somehow, she had found more than she could’ve ever hoped for. Magnus caught her look and grinned. There would be wicked things to do to one other in the early morning hours of the day. She would go back to her apartment to cuddle Lucifer. She would take Copper to The Cat’s Meow and treat her to Thai food. She would whisper terribly dirty things to Magnus when he tried to bother her with new schemes.
They had won and tomorrow was another day. A companion witch always put up a good fight. Her magic was changed, but she was still Lulu and there were still more fights to be had. Her mother was still breathing. Magnus’ hand found her own beneath the table and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.
