Witch & Curse (40 page)

He nodded sympathetically. “I understand, but that is not possible at the moment. When it is safe, we
will do what we can to see you home.”

“All the way to Seattle?” she croaked.

His grin broadened. “Yes, even all the way to Seattle.” He clapped his hands.
“Bueno, andale
,” he said to the rest of the coven.
“La noche esta demasiado peligroso.” The night is too dangerous
.

Several of the covenate made the sign of the cross. Nicole was startled and about to ask about it when the band began to move.

As if of a single mind, they slunk through the center of Madrid, turning down side streets as one, never speaking, never hesitating. As though in a dream, Nicole allowed herself to be swept along with the five cloaked figures. Philippe once again had her by the hand, and she found herself half trotting to keep up with his long strides.

An hour passed before they finally stopped in an alley beside a small car. Nicole hesitated as the others climbed in. Philippe smiled at her.

“We are safe. For the moment.”

Nicole nodded slowly, staring from him to the car. His smile began to fade, and he glanced at the shadows whence they had come.

“I sense that there is not much time,” he said. “We must go now if we are to escape. Do you feel it?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said unhappily. “I do.”

It felt as if someone were staring down at them from a great height—like a huge, winged creature preparing to take flight, flap its enormous wings, and pluck all of them up with its razor-sharp talons. She could almost hear an eerie, echoic screech.

The falcon
, she thought.
He's coming
.

Philippe urged Nicole into the car. “This is an old Deux Chevaux,” he told her. “A French car. We call them ‘two horses' because that's all the horsepower they have.” He grinned. “But even a Deux Chevaux beats something made in Spain.”

“Tiene cuidado, macho
,” José Luís said with mock menace.

“Tais-toi
!” Philippe shot back. He gave Nicole a quick wink and a smile. “You see? Even in danger, we can joke and insult one another. We are a strong band, Nicole. We will be all right.”

She tried to smile back, but her anxiety was rising with each heartbeat. She found herself in the front seat wedged between José Luís and Philippe.

“Um, seat belt,” she murmured, fumbling for the straps.

“It is okay. I am a good driver,” Philippe informed her with a crooked smile.

She nodded grimly.

“We cannot go back for our belongings,” Philippe told her. “Do you have your passport? Your money and things like that?”

She patted her pockets and nodded. “Yes.” She had brought very few things with her, but she was sorry to give them up. She felt so ... naked with nothing to change into.
And no shampoo. No toothbrush
.

Pablo leaned forward and said something to Philippe, who murmured, “Ah,
sí
” and turned to Nicole. “We'll buy new things,” he said kindly. “Once we are safe.”

Three hours later they pulled up to a villa just as dawn broke behind it, the light dancing on the white walls of the low, sprawling country house. Flowers edged a cobbled path to the front door.

The sight took Nicole's breath away.

It's too beautiful to be dangerous
, she thought, knowing in her heart that that didn't make any sense.

José Luís stepped out of the car and Nicole moved to follow him, but Philippe laid a hand on her arm, stopping her. “Best to let him go alone. He needs to, how do you say, make a check?”

Nicole peered out the window and watched as a tall man left the villa and approached José Luís. The two men strode toward each other purposefully, each
swaggering slightly. When they got within fifteen feet of each other they began shouting. She couldn't understand the words, but they didn't sound friendly.

The men stopped when they stood nearly toe-to-toe. They were gesturing wildly and seemed to be arguing even more heatedly. At last José Luís threw back his head and laughed. The other man did as well, and then they embraced.

At last they broke apart and José Luís returned to the car, a smile stretching his sharp features. He gestured for everyone to join him, and as Nicole stepped from the car she shook her head in bewilderment.

“What was that all about?” she asked him.

“Just a little family reunion,” José Luís answered with a sparkle in his eye.

Nicole flipped her hair back over her shoulders and decided not to question him further.
At least not about that
, she thought. She fell into step with Philippe as José Luís led the group around the house.

About half a mile behind the villa there was a small cottage, which was, apparently, their safe house. When they reached it, José Luís confidently opened the door and ushered them all inside. The place was small but clean; several cots lined the walls.

Nicole's eyelids felt heavy and the crisp white sheets looked cool and inviting.

I am so tired
, she thought.
Tired of running. Tired of worrying
.

Wearily she sat down on a chair and slipped off her heavy-soled shoes. Her jeans were dusty. Philippe had given her a sweatshirt that read
UNI DE MADRID,
and that was dirty too. Her mouth was gritty; when José Luís went to a small cabinet, opened it, and brought out a bottle of wine, she accepted a swig along with the others and used it to rinse out the bad taste. Then someone volunteered that there was soap and shampoo in the bathroom.

“Mujer
,” Philippe said to her, “go and have a, how do you say, a soak?”

The wine had gone to her head; she felt a little fuzzy as she blurted excitedly, “There's a bathtub? Really? Are you . . . it's okay?”

He gestured to the cottage. “It's heavily protected. This may be the only chance you have for some while.” He grinned at her and added, “A beautiful woman such as you should have some pleasures.”

She blinked; warmth coiled in her lower belly and spread, and she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

He's thinking about me in the tub
, she thought.

As he pulled off his boots, Pablo glanced up at her, reddened, and looked away.

So is he
.

Not for the first time, she became very aware that she was now the only female in the coven. The other witch, Alicia, had not been very welcomed to begin with, and no one had been sorry to see her go. And yet these men were not precisely warlocks, not in the same violent, harsh way as Eli and his father. They were male witches.

It's more like Eddie, Kialish, and Kialish's father
, she thought.
It's a different thing. I wonder what Holly and Amanda would think about that. Maybe Jer's a male witch too. Maybe that's why he always had so much trouble fitting in as a Deveraux
.

It was strange. She knew that once, not long before, she would have made the most of the opportunity and basked in the attention of five men. She felt herself blushing and stole a glance at Philippe. All that seemed a long time past. There was only one man she really wanted attention from now.

Rummaging in the cabinets, Armand, the quiet, serious one, said something to José Luís, who in turn cocked his head questioningly at Nicole.

“Armand asks, are you Catholic?”

“No.” She frowned at him, gazing past him at Armand. “Are you?”

‘We're Spanish.” He chuckled.
“Bueno
, Philippe is
French, but
sí
, we are all Catholic. In fact, we call Armand our ‘conscience' because he was once a student of the priesthood. He wishes to conduct a Mass for us.” José Luís smiled reassuringly as her lips parted in astonishment. “A white Mass, not a black one.”

“But ...” She hesitated. “We pray to the Goddess.”

José Luís shrugged. “It's all the same, Nicolita. But what I am thinking is, it would be better if you took your soak. We who are of the faith will say our Mass.”

“All . . . all right.”

Señor Alonzo held up a finger, saying something to José Luís. He looked puzzled.

Then Philippe said, “Towels,” and the others nodded. To Nicole, he explained, “They were trying to remember the word in English.” He smiled at her. “They want you to know there are fresh towels in the bath.”

“Thank you.
Gracias
” she attempted. Smiles broke out all around.

Self-consciously she made her way into the bathroom. She found a light switch to her left and flicked it on.

A beautiful claw-foot tub sat to her right, and there was a small partition for the toilet and sink basin. She found the dark purple towels in a cupboard above the toilet, a bottle of what seemed to be shampoo, and a
thick, fragrant bar of Maja soap wrapped in paper embossed with a picture of a flamenco dancer.

Breathing in the delicious perfume, she carried everything to the tub and turned on the double spigots. The tub was clean; she guessed that the man who had greeted José Luís so oddly kept the safe house clean in the event that it was needed. She was grateful for that. She was doubly grateful for Philippe's kindness in suggesting she take a bath.

Kindness
? She smirked at herself.
Face it, Nicki. There's something there and you both feel it

There was a rubber stopper in the bottom of the tub; she plugged the drain and let the water run. Her head bobbed as she waited, and she thought,
I'll have to he careful. I could fall asleep in here
.

From the other room, a single male voice sang out in a rising, falling chant. The others echoed it. Then the first voice sang again, and the others responded.

They're chanting
.

From deep inside her, ancient blood called to the rhythm, the mournful, gentle melodies. Part of her knew these words, these notes; it was in her blood, in her spirit, and in her soul.

The Cahors lived in a Catholic country. Does my spirit stretch back that far, like Holly's does
?

Pondering, she peeled off her dirty clothes and
stepped cautiously into the bath. Easing her sore body down into the warm water, she moaned under her breath as aching muscles uncoiled. She couldn't remember the last time she had actually relaxed.

She lay back and closed her eyes, listening to the chanting. Her mind began to drift. . . . She thought of happier days, when Mom was alive, the two of them having just discovered magic. They had started blessing the family every evening, and Nicole had hoped that her mom would stop sleeping with Michael; that she, Nicole, could light a spark between her parents and they would love each other.

And that I could make Eli good
. . . .

I loved him
.

Tears slid down her face as she finally let go and allowed herself to feel some of her grief. Her mother was dead.

I miss Amanda. And Holly. And my cat. Oh, how I miss Hecate
.

And then she was drifting along . . . drifting and bobbing . . . on water . . .
down a river; she was the Lady of the Island, and she dare not see the imprisoned one; if she looked on him she would go mad because he was so hideous
. . . .

“Nicki . . . ,” came a voice. “Nicki, where are you? My father is sending the falcon to find you. Let me find you first
.”

“Eli
?” she slurred. Her body was so heavy; her
head weighed a ton. She was aware that she was slipping lower into the water, the beautiful river that wound past the island . . . where . . . Jer . . .

“Nicki
?”

She sank slowly, like Ophelia, with holly and lilies twined in her hair. Down, deeply down, the water caressing her chin; then down again, to her lower lip . . .

Drifting along as men sang holy words, and Eli whispered at her . . .

. . . and the waters met over her upper lip. Through her eyelids, in a magical way, she became aware that someone was standing beside the tub, and saying to her in a language she didn't speak, but in the ways of dreams and enchantments, she could understand, “Wake up, Nicole. Wake up, or you will die.”

But Nicole couldn't move. A strange lassitude had overtaken her. She let herself slide deeper into the water . . . . It was so warm, so inviting . . . and she was so very, very tired . . .

. . .
of living
. . . .

The woman's soft voice said fearfully, in the same lilting foreign language—
it's Old French
, Nicki realized—“The curse is water ....”

FOUR

SNOW MOON

Prepare now, House of Deveraux
To wreak vengeance on all our foes
Careful now as we plan the worst
Think and scheme, pray and curse

We huddle together beneath the skies
Their darkness reflected in our eyes
Rest and plot the overthrow
Of the House of Deveraux