The Seven Year Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 2 (17 page)

She stroked his shaking torso, hugging him tightly to her. Groaning, he extracted the vibrator and tossed it aside before kissing her, their hearts thumping in syncopation. Eventually his cock softened, and he reluctantly pulled from her. He wadded the edge of the sheet and delicately cleaned between her legs and lower. Oddly enough, the intimacy of the act made her feel more connected to him. Cherished in some small way. The notion left her uncomfortable, her vulnerabilities stirred, but she didn’t stop him.

Once he was finished performing the task, he snuggled her into his arms again and kissed her brow. “I wanna take you out on a date.”

“Why?”

“It’s what people do,” he said, dry amusement edging his tone.

It’s not what we do
. They had sex. Safe, uncomplicated sex.

Her mind relived the intense experience they’d just shared seconds ago. Okay, she couldn’t deny that even the sex was moving further and further away from being simple exchanges of bodily fluids. Emotions were becoming involved, and that was dangerous. She couldn’t afford to crave him this way, long for a future that would never be.

As if he’d plugged directly into her thoughts, Logan caressed the nape of her neck, lulling her back into drowsy contentment. For a moment, at least. “You still owe me for stiffin’ me the other night, you know.”

Their anniversary dinner. She should have known he wouldn’t let her off so easy. “Fine. When?” It’d have to be soon, or he’d be out of luck. As if to torment her, Seven’s taunting words ghosted through her conscious.
Four days, and you will be mine
. A vise clamped inside her throat.

“I have to work tonight.” Clueless of her private turmoil, Logan brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Tomorrow.”

Refusing to dwell on her numbered days, she nodded, her fingers following the pattern of his tattoo. “I always wondered why you chose barbed wire of all things to get inked with.”

His hand stalled on her shoulder. “Do you wanna hear the official story I tell everyone, or the truth?”

She blinked at him, her curiosity piqued. “That last choice, of course.”

He sighed before angling his arm for her closer inspection. “They’re hidden in the barbs. You wouldn’t even notice if I didn’t tell ya.”

Confused, she peered at the intricate design. Sure enough, there seemed to be tiny letters secreted within each of the barbed points. She frowned, making out a
C
and then an
L
. With each new letter she uncovered, a terrible truth slowly blossomed inside her.

“It’s my name.” Afraid to meet whatever lurked within his gaze, she slid her focus to Logan’s chin. “I get it. I’m more than prickly—at the best of times.” It was no mystery that she tended to alienate others, particularly her familiars. That was part of the reason why it’d taken her three years to replace Griffin after she’d enlisted him to take over as Jemma’s guardian.

She’d seen the way she’d repeatedly wounded Griffin with her cold, standoffish ways. The idea of inflicting that pain on anyone else hadn’t sat well on her. But when she’d signed the contract with Seven, she couldn’t ignore the necessity of taking on another familiar. Because she wouldn’t be around to guide and train her replacement, the responsibility would fall upon her familiar. Logan.

When he’d knocked on her door seven years ago and arrogantly informed the other prospective familiars that they might as well hit the pavement, she figured that she’d found the perfect successor to Griffin and the answer to her problems. A familiar who was so ridiculously overconfident in his abilities—and himself—that her emotional distance and lack of ego stroking wouldn’t matter.

Obviously she’d been wrong. She swallowed, distant shame cresting to the surface. “I never knew I drove you to brand me into your flesh. I’m sorry if I hurt you that much.”

“Shug, you’re only partly right. I
did
brand you into my hide.” His lips pressed into her temple when she flinched. “But it wasn’t for the reason you think. I did it because from the moment I saw you, I realized my heart was entangled.” His breath ruffled her hair. “Even then, I knew.”

The raw honesty of his confession whipped up a storm of conflicting emotions. Fear and panic. Happiness and joy. The warning bells in her head were deafening. She scrambled from his arms, almost falling off the mattress in her haste to put some distance between them. And distance from that golden cage of longings.

“Rissa…”

“I—I really need to shower and get going. I’m supposed to have breakfast with my father again.” And check that Janet had kept her word about the restricted visitor list.

“How about if I come with you? My shift doesn’t start ’til three.”

There was no way she could take having him there, the piercing ache of these disturbing feelings still too new and fresh. “I think it’s better if you don’t. He’s not been at his best lately. I don’t want to trigger one of his episodes.”

Logan gazed at her, his expression clearly displaying that he knew the only one suffering any episode at the moment was her. “Okay. Another time then.” Just as relief started to sweep her, he sat up, the sheet riding low on his lap as his shoulders leaned into the headboard. “But you’re damn well still goin’ on that date tomorrow night. You can’t keep runnin’ from me forever.”

That’s where he was mistaken. It wouldn’t be forever.

Only four days.

Chapter Fourteen

Breakfast with her father went better than she’d anticipated. He seemed to have forgotten all about her mother’s previous visit. As for the painful reminiscences that he did recall—the ones that seemed to haunt his fractured memory like overzealous ghosts—fortunately those he kept to a minimum during their chat. By the time she kissed him goodbye and headed out to her car, it was well past noon.

Her cell phone buzzed, and she quickly checked the caller ID, spotting Domino’s private line. Damn. Now what?

She clicked the talk button, and after dispensing with the stiff, mutually grudging pleasantries, was informed that her presence was required at HQ. She hung up, cursing her luck. In her typical fashion, Domino hadn’t elaborated on what the urgent business was pertaining to, but Clarissa had weathered enough meetings with the head guild leader to know she’d likely have a migraine by the time it was over. After ensuring her bottle of Motrin was adequately stocked, she drove to the Italianate mansion housing the Alliance headquarters.

Willa greeted her at the door. The younger witch wore a frazzled expression, and her sable-brown bob looked like it was the victim of repeated finger pulling or a drive-by tornado. Not exactly a surprise. Considering who poor Willa was forced to deal with on a daily basis, it was a freaking miracle she hadn’t gone bald years ago. But what was odd was the harrowed look in Willa’s eyes as she stared at her. “She’s waiting for you in her office.”

“Are you okay?” Clarissa demanded, worried.

“No, probably not. In fact, I’m pretty sure there’s a padded cell somewhere with my name stenciled on it.” With that cryptic comment hanging in the air, she led the way to Domino’s corner suite. After ushering Clarissa inside, Willa exited and shut the door.

Domino eyed Clarissa for a long moment, the sharp angles of her cheekbones adding to the overall hawkish expression she’d perfected. “Thank you for coming. I imagine your schedule must be overloaded, just with the ceaseless hours you’ve obviously put in turning my daughter against me.”

Oh sweet hell. Her temple already giving a dull throb, Clarissa crossed to Domino’s desk and squarely met the woman’s icy glare. “If you’re referring to me helping Marabella follow her dream, then yes, I’m guilty as charged. But I refuse to stand here and let you accuse me of anything more than that.”

“She’s moving out.” Domino’s expression hinted that such an offense should be punishable by death. Not Marabella’s, of course, but Clarissa’s—for the part she’d played in Marabella’s newfound freedom. “She wouldn’t have even fathomed such an idea without your involvement.”

Don’t be so certain
. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Domino’s obtuseness, she waved her arm. “I don’t know why you’re throwing such a conniption. Marabella is twenty-four years old, for goddess’s sake. Plenty of women her age would have moved out long before now. It’s time for her to spread her wings. Respect that, and stop controlling every aspect of her life.”

“Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter.” Domino’s features tightened, her voice going shrill.

She half-expected Domino’s silk pantsuit to tear to shreds like the Incredible Hulk’s as the woman’s fury detonated. “I’m not. But you’re doing Marabella a grave injustice by encouraging her self-doubts at every turn.”

“Well
I
don’t want you encouraging her fool idea of pursuing this business. She’ll only fall flat on her face, making a complete embarrassment of herself.”

Before Clarissa could utter a word, the door suddenly banged open behind her. She pivoted as Willa stormed into the room.

The outrage Domino had displayed seconds ago was nothing compared to the lividness riding Willa’s elfin face. “You know what, she’s right.” Willa jabbed a finger in Clarissa’s direction, but her hard focus never left Domino. “You’ve been smothering Marabella her entire life. Here’s an idea—let her live hers and find your own.”

Clarissa didn’t know who was more stunned, her or Domino. Where was the timid Willa who never lifted her voice to anyone?

Domino’s spell of speechlessness splintered, and her frosty eyes pinned Willa in place. “Were you listening at the door?”

“No. Intercom. Much easier.”

Domino’s tongue momentarily failed her again. Finally she shook her head. “Willa, what has gotten into you?”

“I have no damn idea.”

Huffing, Domino smoothed the lapels of her jacket, the expensive diamond solitaire on her ring finger sparkling. “Well, I don’t like it.”

“Tough. Fire me.”

Domino’s jaw dropped. The guild leader rocked in her seat, her obvious agitation showing. “I advise you not to tempt me.”

“Ha! We both know that’s an empty threat. No one else would put up with your ass.” Snorting, Willa turned and stalked from the office.

Leaving a gaping-mouthed Domino behind, Clarissa trailed after the younger witch. She halted next to Willa’s desk and watched as the other woman plopped into her chair. “Wow, that was something to see. I would never have guessed you had it in you.”

“Me either.” Groaning, Willa buried her face in her hands. “I can’t keep going on like this. Sooner or later, I will get fired, then what will I do? I can’t live on Ramen noodles forever.”

The abrupt change in Willa’s demeanor was enough to give Clarissa whiplash. Had the girl merely been putting on a good front earlier? If so, she was one hell of an amazing actress. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Like you said, Domino could never replace you. And she knows it.”

Willa’s bleakness showed no signs of dissolving. After an awkward hesitation, Clarissa tentatively patted the girl on the arm. It was ridiculous how even that small gesture made her break out in a cold sweat. But that didn’t stop her from experiencing a small spark of pride for meeting the beast of her insecurities head on. “Do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you? It might help.”

Her palms dragging down her face, Willa peered at her. “That’s part of the problem. I don’t really understand what
is
bothering me. All I know is that I haven’t been myself lately. I have no idea who I am anymore.”

“Maybe you’ve just been under too much stress. Domino and the rest of the guild are pros at dishing it out.”

“I wish I could say that’s what it is, but I don’t think so.” Willa’s fingers listlessly skimmed over her computer keys, her troubled gaze affixed to the cursor blinking on the monitor. “I’ve been having weird dreams, only they feel more like…visions. Or memories that aren’t mine.”

Clarissa leaned her hip on the desk’s edge, mulling the possibilities. A past-life experience coming back to haunt Willa? Constance had a better grasp on such things. Maybe a regression reading was in order. Just as she was about to suggest it, Willa jerked her hand away from the keyboard as if it’d stung her.

“Levi.”

She frowned at Willa. “What?”

“Levi. That word keeps popping into my head. Like everything else, I don’t know why. But just the sound of it makes me feel dizzy and claustrophobic. Like I’m drowning. Like we’re all drowning.”

Ah, now they were getting somewhere. Willa’s fear of drowning was nothing new. After losing both her parents and nearly her own life to the watery depths of the Atlantic when she was only eight, Willa had developed a crippling phobia of large bodies of water. Perhaps whatever she was encountering now was just a new manifestation of her repressed terror.

“I see them all drowning,” Willa whispered, her tone haunted. “Jenny Cavanaugh. Lois Grimes. Hundreds more.”

Clarissa blinked. “Jenny Cavanaugh?”

“Ever since the day she slipped into that coma, I’ve witnessed her drowning a thousand times over. She keeps reaching for me from the center of that oily cesspool of a lake, but I can’t save her.” Willa’s voice broke on a soft sob. “I can’t save any of them.”

A frigid shiver of dread and disbelief arced through Clarissa, and she staggered. It would have been beyond easy to trick herself into believing the nightmare Willa was recounting was a coincidence and nothing to do with her own personal drama. But she’d seen that oil-slicked lake of death. And the countless souls being herded to their doom. Her chest cramping, she knuckled the edge of the desk.

Oh, sweet goddess. No.

Chapter Fifteen

Sneaking into St. Joseph’s ICU proved to be an insurmountable obstacle she hadn’t counted on. Which only added to her mountainous pile of frustrations. She didn’t know precisely what she would have discovered if she had been able to sweet talk her way into Jenny Cavanaugh’s room, or any of the others. Probably nothing. Certainly no hard evidence that would link Seven to this string of coma cases. Not that she needed substantiated proof. Her gut feeling more than verified her suspicions.

As she drove to the coven house, she sorted through the little bit of information that she did have. In addition to Willa’s revealing visions, the timing of the comas in relation to Seven’s return to Savannah was too relevant to be overlooked. Was it possible that the creature hadn’t only returned to contract more souls, but to collect the ones it already owned? Who was to say she wasn’t the only one who’d had dealings with the son of a bitch seven years ago? The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that she wasn’t the only one Seven had came for. She was willing to bet that if the backgrounds of the coma victims were known, there’d be a glaring clue pointing in Seven’s direction.