I was glad I was chopping the onion when he said this so I had an excuse to wipe away the tear in my eye.
“Thanks, Dad.”
After he left to watch the college bowl games with his friends, I quietly snuck back into my bedroom. But Nicholas was lying on the bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling and with both arms tucked behind his head.
“Good morning, or should I say afternoon?” he said with a delicious smile.
I quickly moved back to the bed and crawled in next to him. “Afternoon…you slept over twelve hours. How do you feel?”
He rolled over and wrapped his arms around me in a snug embrace. “Mmmm…much better now.” He gave me a kiss.
I kissed him back, my heart brimming with joy that the magic of last night was still alive today… unlike our last encounter, when the beautiful dream had quickly turned into a horrid nightmare. I had the overwhelming desire to see what he looked like under his bulky black-hooded sweatshirt; to see what my hands now felt…his taught, smooth skin pulled tightly over ripples of hard muscles.
I started to lift his sweatshirt, and he chuckled softly in my ear. “Don’t start something we can’t finish,” he breathed, nibbling on my lobe.
“Who says we can’t finish?” I replied bravely. Stupidly. Now what did that mean? I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. I just wanted to see him…to feel his skin on mine. I hoped he didn’t think I meant…
“I say.” He rolled onto his back. “I have to go check on Justin. Make sure he’s doing all right.”
“Oh.”
He laughed. “Don’t look so disappointed. I’ll only be a few minutes. I just need to make sure everything is okay over there. Shouldn’t have left him alone for so long—”
I sat up and propped myself up on some pillows. “When’re you bringing him back here?”
“As soon as he’s stronger. He…he had it pretty bad there for a while. I wouldn’t wish what he went through on my worst enemy.”
“Should he be left all alone?” I asked, concerned. “What if he needs help? If he’s really in such bad shape—”
Nicholas shook his head. “Trust me. Right now he has everything he could possibly need…plenty of sleep, food, and water. I expect he’ll be stronger in a few days.”
“Can’t you just heal him like you healed me that night of the dance?” I glanced away, the insane irony of my request not lost on me.
He sighed, sitting up straighter. “Some of his injuries are physical, but for the most part they are on the inside. His soul is healing and readjusting. There’s nothing I can do for that.”
“What about the memory charm? Won’t that help?”
Nicholas wrapped his hand around mine. “That’s the idea. Hopefully it will. But he needs some more time before we can do that.”
“Why?”
Nicholas’s eyebrows rose. “Why? Because he’s a human who has been put through an extraordinary amount of magical tribulation in a short amount of time. The most powerful witch or warlock would be severely traumatized. But for a human, especially one who was just purged of Gypsy magic…”
“What exactly did they do to him? And you?” I whispered. I lightly touched his face where the bruises and scratches stood like acts of vandalism on a priceless piece of art.
Nicholas gave a troubled sigh. “Now isn’t the time to get into all of that,” he said, and swung his legs off the bed. He stood up, a bit shakily at first, but quickly re-gained his bearings.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” I asked as I moved over beside him. I felt so tiny standing next to his tall frame, even in his weakened state.
“I’m good.” He smiled. “But I haven’t eaten anything decent since God knows when, so if you want something to do while I’m checking on Justin…”
“Done! I’ll make you breakfast…and lunch…and dinner! What’s your favorite food?”
He put his arms around my waist, pulling me close. “Anything you want to make for me will be perfect,” he whispered sexily.
And with one final kiss he shimmered away. Only this time it was different.
This time I knew he’d be back.
*****
Nicholas was gone much longer than just a ‘few minutes’, and although I was up to my elbows making a feast for him, I was acutely aware of almost every tick of the clock as it inched along.
I lowered the heat under the pan of scrambled eggs and flipped the pancakes. Then I turned over the pieces of bacon and sausage sizzling in the skillet. Fruit! I grabbed some from a bowl on the counter and was chopping up mangos and a watermelon when Nicholas finally reappeared.
“That smells heavenly.” He inhaled deeply, and then positioned himself on the same barstool my father had sat on earlier. He’d showered and changed, and his face was back to its original pristine perfection.
“That’s more like it,” I smiled. “How’s Justin?” I turned back to my cooking so as not to gawk at his fresh beauty.
His lips twisted into a slight grimace. “He’s hanging in there. A bit depressed, as can be expected. He needs more rest…” His voice trailed off.
“What is it?” I prodded, as I set a full plate in front of him.
He eyed the food hungrily and took several bites. “You have no idea how good this tastes. Thank you so much.”
I picked up a slice of mango. “You are very welcome. Now what is it about Justin that you’re not telling me?”
He put down his fork and took a swig of the freshly-squeezed orange juice. “He wants to see you,” he finally said, clearly displeased.
My eyebrows shot up. “He does? Why?”
Nicholas shrugged. “He said he wants to apologize, and he needs to talk to you. I know it’s not my business, but I don’t—”
“I want to see him.”
“Out of the question.”
I narrowed my eyes and moved closer to him. “Why not? You said he was cured. Justin is my friend. I want to see him. Please,” I added softly.
Nicholas kept eating. Finally he nodded, reluctantly. “Okay, you can go with me tonight. But I’m warning you now—you are not leaving my sight for even one second. And if anything happens…anything at all…”
“But you said he was better, right? He won’t try to hurt me anymore, so what’s the problem?”
He avoided my eyes. “Well, just in case. If something did go wrong, I’d really hate—”
I smiled and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Nicholas.”
Noticing his nearly clean plate, I returned to the stove and started pouring more batter on the griddle. For a minute I allowed myself to let this scene sink into my mind, and marveled at the thrill this simple act of cooking for him gave me. Ahh, the joys of domesticity, I laughed silently to myself, as I pictured us in our own house one day…me making breakfast for him and our future kids...
I felt his eyes on me, and when I peeked over my shoulder I caught him staring at me unabashedly.
“What’re you looking at?” I asked with what I hoped was a flirtatious smile.
“You.”
“Oh yeah?” I felt the familiar blush of embarrassment creep up my face. Why did he always give me the impression that he knew what I was thinking? What if he actually did? Maybe he could read hearts and minds?
“Yeah. You’re really cute. Especially right now.”
“Barefoot in the kitchen feeding you is what turns you on, huh?”
He chuckled. “Well, as much as I do appreciate that at the moment…it’s more than that. Much more. It’s just how you are…how you’re so comfortable in your skin…you being you, naturally. It’s so refreshing to me.”
“I really don’t know about that. I definitely have my moments of insanity when I have no idea who I am or what to think,” I mumbled, practically melting beneath his sexy gaze.
“No, that’s not what I mean.” He dove into the fresh plate of pancakes as eagerly as he had the first. I cracked a few more eggs and began whisking them
in the bowl. “It’s just that you radiate this natural beauty that is so effortless,” he continued after a moment. “I know so many girls that, well, they just try too hard, if you catch my drift. Always worrying about having perfect hair, or if their makeup is just right, and if their clothes are cool enough. You’re not like that. I like it.”
Oh, well, that obviously put to rest any questions I had regarding his mind reading abilities. If he knew how much I worried about—
—Wait a minute! That was a back-handed compliment if there ever was one!
I suddenly became very aware of the fact that I was with the guy of my dreams—the guy of any girl’s dreams—and he looked like he had just stepped out of the pages of a men’s fashion catalogue. And here I was, dressed as if I planned on spending an evening alone with a good book and my thirty cats.
“Thanks, I think,” I mumbled. I turned back to the stove so he wouldn’t see the wave of fresh insecurity that came over me at that moment. I didn’t want him to see that I was still the mousy girl from Basile with no friends and hand-me-down clothing. I wasn’t really this flame-haired witch who lived in a mansion by the sea and flew to enchanted forests in my dreams.
I hadn’t realized Nicholas had come to stand behind me until his arm slid around my waist and his husky voice whispered in my ear.
“I don’t know if I was clear, and I do not want you to misunderstand me. I find you to be the sexiest, most amazing, most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I’ve wanted you since before I even knew you….before I found you. I don’t care if you dress in a burlap sack, or if you wake up one day with purple and green hair and wearing glasses the size of coke bottles. You will always be the most beautiful person on this planet to me.” He tilted my face toward his so he could look deep into my eyes.
Once again I found myself in his arms, kissing him with renewed passion. I think I would have kissed him for hours…for days—if not for the smell of burning oil.
He broke away with a sly grin, muttered something unintelligible, and then ran his hand through the small grease fire that had spurted up in the skillet. The flames died instantly, leaving only the rancid smell of smoke in the air.
“How did you do that?” I asked, as I examined his hand. It showed no sign of being burned.
He shrugged, and I stared at him in wonder. Was there anything he couldn’t do? He made it all look so easy…so natural. He was a born warlock, if there ever was one, while I felt like someone acting out a role in a school play or something. Hi, I’m not really a witch, I just play one on TV…
“Let me make a fresh batch—” I started.
He held up his hand. “No more for me. I’m good. Don’t want to overdo it. But thanks again. Everything was absolutely delicious. Especially this…” He lowered his mouth onto mine once again.
Later, we cleaned the kitchen using levitan, and I noticed with a twinge of envy the effortless way Nicholas was able to handle so many dishes at once. In very short order the place was spotless. “What do you want to do now?” I asked.
He looked at me suggestively for a moment, and my heart fluttered. Would I ever get used to seeing this exquisite creature standing before me?
I hoped not.
“I think it’s time I see Ana and fill her in on everything. I still need her help.”
I nodded, ashamed that I’d completely forgotten about her until now. Being with Nicholas had a funny way of filling up all the working places in my brain.
Not that I minded one tiny bit.
Chapter 8. Inquisition
The fog had lifted some, but the sky was still a cold, dewy grey. I wondered when the sun would shine brightly again. Now that Nicholas was back, it seemed like it should.
Ana met us as soon as we stepped into the kitchen. “Come in,” she instructed impassively. “I was a bit curious as to when the two of you would stop by.” We followed her into the main parlor where the rest of her coven was gathered, apparently awaiting our arrival.
“Please...” She motioned us toward the couch. Why was I nervous? And why did I feel like I was in trouble for something again? Shouldn’t everyone be happy? Nicholas was back! But they didn’t seem happy. They seemed…concerned.
Ana quickly introduced Nicholas to the others in the room, then turned to him. “We’ve been anxiously awaiting your return and would like to be informed on your experience with the Hunter as thoroughly as possible.”
Despite Nicholas’s hand on mine, the bee swarm in my stomach was starting up again. I glanced around, looking for the requisite pot of Ana’s special tea. But for once there wasn’t any in sight.
“As you know, we located Justin in the middle of the ocean, where he was planning to take his own life.” Nicholas spoke smoothly, easily, as if he were completely comfortable being under the scrutinizing glare of strangers. “I arrived at his location a few seconds after he’d plunged into the water and his board had swept away. He had no hope of survival—”
I gasped. He hadn’t mentioned that part to me.
“—and after a brief struggle, I teleported him to a safe house in Northern Canada—a cabin deep in the boreal forest with nothing but wilderness for two hundred miles in any direction. I told him of my plan…that maybe there was someone who could help him, who might cure him of his affliction.”
He paused and gazed down at me. He gently squeezed my hand, and from the corner of my eye I could see Ana’s mouth tense. Nicholas continued, “…He was furious that I’d interrupted his plans, and several times begged me to let him die. I told him that there was a very good chance of that happening anyway, for the place we were going was a hostile land governed by different rules of magic. For some reason this made him feel better, and I set off to find the one man I hoped could help us.”
“You left him all alone?” Lily’s father sounded perplexed.
Nicholas nodded. “Yes. As I said, there is only dense forest and wild animals for a two-hundred mile radius. There are no roads in or out, and no phones. He was, and still is, completely isolated. Any attempts to escape would be utterly futile.”
Mr. Davenport nodded.
“I went looking for the man I thought could help him…a powerful Witch-doctor named Kosai,” Nicholas continued, his voice lower. “But I found out he was killed last year by an enemy tribe. At this point I thought the mission was doomed, until his son stepped forward and offered to try to perform the rites for us. He did so not as a favor to me, but because of his long standing hatred of the Gypsies.”
“And where was this? Who is this man, these people you speak of?” Ana asked.
“The Zinkambo tribe. They live on Cape Verde, a small island off the coast of western Africa. Kosai was their leader until his death. Now his son, a shaman named Louriz-ali, is their ruler.”
I noticed many in the room exchange suspicious glances.
“How do you know these…people?” Lily’s mother asked. The way she said ‘people’ gave the impression she didn’t totally think of them as such.
Nicholas cleared his throat and looked away. “I met Kosai as a young boy, quite by accident. He took me in, and gave me shelter and protection. Over the years I continued to visit him, and he blessed me with his wisdom and guidance. He was a great man, and I am honored to have known him.”
My mind flashed back to that night Nicholas and I had spent on Druantia, and how he’d told me that as a young boy, since he had no real guardian to mentor him, he’d shimmered all over the world learning magic from all types of different people. Kosai must have been one of those people, and from the haunted look in Nicholas’s eyes, I could see the man’s death had really shaken him.
“What are these ‘rites’?” asked Sophie’s mom, her usual smile replaced by a troubled frown.
“To counteract the Gypsy curse, Louriz-ali and his seven priests needed to perform the sacred ceremony for thirteen consecutive nights. It is a tricky and highly dangerous spell under the best conditions, but their attempts were thwarted many times by the fact
that they were in the middle of a bloody war with a neighboring clan, and under near constant attack. In addition, several members of their own tribe were angry over the attempt to help us, and twice attempted mutiny. Each time the spell was broken, the priests had to start over. But in the end the ritual was completed.”
“And it was successful?” This time it was Sophie’s Aunt Cleo.
Nicholas nodded. “Yes, we believe so. The curse is not entirely removed…that would be impossible without killing him. But most of it is. The rest is placated by a mild counter-curse he’ll be under for the rest of his life.”
“A life-long curse,” Ana repeated. “So it was a blood spell?”
“Yes.”
There were murmurings amongst the group, displeased frowns, and suspicious faces.
“Has the Hunter been tested?” Lily’s mother asked.
Nicholas nodded again. “After the cleansing he was placed in the presence of several young Shalli—those are Zinkambo witch-maidens. He displayed no hostility and showed no signs that the Hunter curse remained.”
Now the group was buzzing with excitement.
“Did you learn anything useful about the Hunter during your time with him?” asked some man I didn’t recognize.
“Well, he did tell me something interesting. He said the curse only lives in the younger men…that it develops at puberty and fades away in their late twenties, early thirties. I guess this is to ensure that only the strongest men at the peak of their virility engage in the Hunt—the ones with the best chances of survival, so they’re able to pass down the curse to their offspring.”
Ana tilted her head and studied Nicholas. “And how did he learn this?”
“The curse had never triggered in Justin’s father, but he’d been told about his heritage from his father. The night Justin changed, his father explained to him what had happened…and about the family curse. Except his father considered it a ‘gift’, so naturally there was some strain on that particular father-son chat.”