Part 26 (1/2)

With another calming breath I realized that with each breath I inhaled I was holding tight to my anger, but the exhales allowed me to release a little of my frustration, and my fear.

Time to pull on my big girl panties and admit none of this was Bran's fault. It was mine. My choices created this outcome. Not his.

Releasing another sigh that started somewhere near my feet, I knew I was doing this for myself. If selling my soul to the dark side helped me save Van, then so be it.

I reached across the chalk line and pulled the bag closer, reaching inside for the four candles and setting them aside. Who knew they could find four different colors on short notice in the heart of Paris. The mugwort, sage, burdock root and cedar in small plastic baggies I moved within hands' length to my right. The last item was in a fancy container; French sea salt.

I looked up at Willie who smiled and shrugged. ”I didn't know what kind of salt you needed. Figured the fancy stuff might help more.”

”Thanks.” It was a nice gesture and I knew it came from a good place within him. ”Can someone get me a small bowl of water?”

Both Francois and Willie scrambled. I shouted after them, ”Preferably a stone or hand potted bowl if you can find one.”

There was a mumbled, ”Will do,” echoing from the kitchen area.

I rose to my feet, brus.h.i.+ng chalk dust from my hands against my jeans, only too aware that this was a fairly large room yet with only Bran and I in it seemed too small.

I finally found enough backbone to look at him and wished I hadn't. There were times when Bran would walk into a room or I'd see him after being away from him for a while and I'd get that knee to the solar plexus take-my-breath-away response. Totally unbidden and mostly unwelcome but d.a.m.n, there it was.

Maybe it was the thickness of his midnight hair, or the slash of his cheekbones, the lean length of him, the breadth of his shoulders, heck, it was a hundred small details that made my legs weak and my stomach tumble over and over.

And I could hate him for that, even as I hated myself more. He was warlock, enemy to witches, and thus enemy to me. But why couldn't I remember that like any sane witch?

He stepped close, too close, sucking all of the air from the room. I'm not sure if he meant the move as threat or something else. I wasn't ready for either. Just as I opened my mouth to growl at him he raised one hand to brush his fingers along my cheek as his other hand slid to my waist. All thought fled.

Instead all I did was feel, the roughness of his fingers taking a slow leisurely path from brow to cheek bone to jaw. When had just a touch sent me headfirst into a freefall? He so did not play fair.

He started to speak, his voice hoa.r.s.e and guttural, ”Alex . . .”

d.a.m.n him. Just when I needed all my wits about me he scattered them like so much dandelion fluff. I cleared my throat and stepped back, desperate to put some s.p.a.ce between us. Something to keep me from drowning. Or begging.

We both spoke at once.

”Why'd you . . .”

”I shouldn't have . . .”

We both stopped and I waved him on. He looked like he'd prefer to swallow his tongue but he cleared his throat and said, ”I know what I'm asking you to do here. I should have been more forthright about this being a possibility when we left the hotel this afternoon.”

And that's why he kept turning my world topsy-turvy. Warlocks didn't offer apologies, because they'd have to admit they were in the wrong. Yet that's exactly what he'd just done. How could you fight a concession? More not playing fair. At this rate he could write the handbook on how to mess with a woman's head. And heart.

I angled my head to look at him, really seeing the cost of his words. He was mage-born which meant he understood the price of black magic. Most warlocks and sorcerers not only went down the path of black magic, they raced toward it, arms wide open. White magic was benign and helpful for life's small things, sort of the Band-Aid on the world's dings and bruises. Black magic was the opposite. If you had an owie white magic would make you feel better. If your femoral artery was cut you called on black magic. You'd save your limb but lose your soul in the process.

I glanced away, looking at the circle, stilling the beating of my heart. Bran knew since he'd returned from the Council meeting earlier that we'd end up here. I think that's what bothered me the most. He knew but hadn't been honest enough to say up front, hey, remember how you used me yesterday? Well, payback's a b.i.t.c.h.

But that's not what I really wanted to say. I was afraid. For him, for me; if the Council acted against him. If we couldn't find Vaverek. So many ifs I was swallowed whole by them. The words on the tip of my tongue scared me. Scared me more than what I was about to do.

Thankfully Francois and Willie returned before I had to come up with a nice lie one of the kind that started with, it doesn't really matter.

”Francois thought this should be cold water but I figured warm water would be nicer to put your hands into.” Willie clutched the bowl in his wide grip. ”If that's what you're going to do.”

”I am.” I smiled at him. A sight he obviously wasn't used to, or maybe because it'd been twice in a row, but he ducked his head as if I'd patted him, or scared the c.r.a.p out of him, disarming him before I attacked.

Okay, reputation well deserved.

Before I reached out to grab the bowl I erased a portion of the chalk line with the toe of the fancy shoes Francois had given me only yesterday. They sure didn't look like pricey designer shoes anymore.

I set the bowl in the middle of the circle as I grabbed the candles and thrust them toward Francois. ”Here I need these set in the following directions-To the south, place the red one; North, the brown; West, the blue, and orange in the east.”

Francois handed two to Bran, one to Willie and they all set them out as I re-chalked the line and returned to the middle where the bowl of water and the bloodied napkin rested on the floor. I kept my eyes averted from it but it was like a lighthouse beacon pulsing at me, warning me of danger.

As if I didn't know that already.

”When I say so I want you to light the candles.” I took a deep breath before adding, ”No matter what happens you must remain absolutely silent and stay outside the circle.”

”What's going to happen?” Willie asked.

”If all goes right I find the general area where Van is.”

”And if not-ow, I was just asking,” he snapped at Francois.

It was Bran who answered, though. ”Let's focus on making sure all goes right.”

I bet the guys who took up bomb disposal heard the same comment on their first day of the job. Because that's what it felt like right then. I faced a ten-ton bomb with shaking fingers.

CHAPTER 51.

The first part of the ritual was the easiest part, consecrating with salt and water before I cast the scrying spell. I raised my anathema dagger, which I'd placed in the middle of the circle before I drew my chalk boundaries. Yes, I knew most witches called it an athame, but one of the last things I remembered about my mother before she disappeared from my world was her asking me for her dagger and calling hers an anathema. The word has stuck ever since. One of these days I was going to find out that meaning, but not right now. I needed to focus. One hundred percent align my intention and my thoughts.

I touched the tip of my dagger to the water and began the purification chant: O creature of water, I banish thee.

Cast before me all uncleanliness and impurity of illusion, of ghosts, of spirits who seek harm.

I moved the anathema to the pile of salt I'd poured on the floor and touched it lightly intoning: Cast forth all malignancy and hindrances be. Break the barriers held against thy good.

Enter herein all aid and a.s.sistance. I call thee forth to render support. That though mayest be.

Then I mixed the salt into the water, stirring it with the anathema in easy smooth strokes, using the restraint to calm and center me.

I set the dagger to the side and glanced to the moon's light through the window.

I conjure thee oh orb of light and guidance. Circle of power I call upon thee to guide and protect.

Between the worlds of men and realms of the Mighty Ones you who see all a.s.sist in finding that which I seek.