Smoke on the Water Read online

  He lay flat on the bed. “Your wish is my command.”

  I liked the sound of that.

  I kissed his chin, which was rough with a late-in-the-day beard, making me recall the first time I’d seen him in the flesh, fresh off a motorcycle trip, scruffy and windblown, wearing black leather and that earring. No wonder I’d fainted. I rubbed my cheek along his, relishing the contrast between man and woman.

  “Careful.” He placed his big hand against the small of my back. His fingertips curved around my waist on one side, his thumb nearly reached to the other. “I’ll leave a mark on your skin.”

  “Maybe later.” My lips curved. “And lower.”

  Speaking of lower, I was fascinated by the sprinkling of dark hair across his chest and belly. I kissed his pecs—springy, a bit coarse. I rubbed my nose against his belly.

  “Mmm.” That was so soft I wanted to—

  I rubbed my lips there too.

  His penis leaped, and he groaned.

  I sat up. “Did I hurt you?”

  He tangled his hand in my hair and drew me back down. “Hurt me again.”

  He allowed me to explore any way that I wanted to, and there were many ways—with lips and teeth and tongue, fingers, palms, the back of my hand. I rediscovered every line, every curve and dip, the slide of skin, the spike of bone. I didn’t want to stop. Wouldn’t have except fair was fair, and he wanted to explore too.

  I couldn’t stay still like he had. I arched; I squirmed; I begged.

  “Shh,” he murmured against my stomach. His beard scraped my hip. I rubbed myself against him. I itched—everywhere. His breath brushed between my thighs, then his fingers did.

  “Oh,” I said, then, “Oh!”

  He laughed and kissed me there too. “Shh,” he repeated. “They’ll think I’m doing something in here that I shouldn’t.”

  I lifted my hand to his cheek. “You should.”

  He kissed my palm, then moved away from me and I clung. He came back and kissed me quick, on the nose. “Condom,” he said, and found his pants, rustled a bit and returned.

  For an instant it bothered me that he had one—maybe more—available. It meant he’d been with other women. But I’d known that, and the only thing that mattered was that now he would be with me.

  I welcomed him with open arms, open eyes. I wanted to see his face in the night, shadowed by the moon. That was how I’d seen him first—in my mind, then accepted him into my heart. Now I welcomed him into my body.

  The pain was brief. I’d known it would come, exactly how it would feel. Which made it not a surprise but the fulfillment of a promise I’d been expecting all along.

  My breath caught and he stilled. “I don’t want to hurt you. Did I hurt you?”

  “Hush,” I whispered as if he were the one who was hurt. “Show me.” I pressed upward, taking him deeper. There was no more pain. “Show me now.”

  “Just…” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Just a second, I need a second.”

  I tried to hold on, but I couldn’t. There was something fantastic on the other side of stillness. This was both my first time, and not my first time, the situation playing out with a duality I knew too well. I’d been here before, in my mind, but until I was here in body too, I didn’t really know. I couldn’t. Certainly he’d made me come last night, but this was different in ways I wanted it to be very badly.

  I clasped his buttocks in my palms and pulled him tighter. He cursed and gave in to the storm.

  Chapter 22

  Sebastian lay with Willow’s head on his shoulder, the greatest peace he’d ever known washing over him. Which was damn strange, considering.

  Certainly he no longer believed she was crazy, nor that she should be a patient of a mental health facility. Still, he shouldn’t have touched her. But after he’d nearly lost her, he’d known that touching her was inevitable. Even before she’d shared that it was.

  As wonderful as being with her had been, he was still bothered by how it had been. He watched the moon sparkle across the sheets, across her, across them.

  “You seem…” He paused. He hadn’t meant to speak. Why had he? “Never mind. It’s not appropriate.”

  “I think that ship has sailed.”

  Sebastian winced.

  “I meant you can tell me anything.” She lifted her head, a frown marring her beautiful face. “I thought we were past the patient/doctor thing.”

  “I am. We are. Though the world isn’t going to be.”

  “The world will be lucky if we save its ass,” she muttered.

  “I know.”

  “But they won’t understand. People who matter to you, your job, your life.” She stroked his chest. “And we won’t be able to explain why they’re wrong.”

  He nearly said no one mattered but her, which felt very real, but it was too soon for that. Or maybe it wasn’t.

  “If we tell them the truth,” he said, “we’ll both end up in the loony bin.”

  “I wish I knew how to fix this for you, but I don’t.”

  “We have enough to worry about without my problems. Let’s put out one fire at a time—biggest fire first, which is the insane, demonic, unkillable witch hunter that’s been raised from the dead.”

  “Good plan,” she said.

  “I wish we had a plan.”

  “Me too.” She laid her head back on his shoulder. Silence fell over them, as cool and navy blue as the night. “You wanted to ask me something?”

  “No.”

  “Sebastian, you’re thinking so loudly I can’t fall asleep. Just ask.”

  He let out a long breath. “I don’t want you asking me about my past with women, so it isn’t fair for me to ask you—”

  She leaned back so she could see his face. “I have no past with men. Unless you count the past I have with you.”

  “That’s not the kind of past I’m talking about.”

  “I’ve seen this, seen us, together. Many times.”

  That might explain it. “You said you’d never…” And he knew that was so. He’d felt her virginity, taken it as he’d never taken anyone else’s. But still … “It seemed like you had.”

  Her eagerness, her passion had inflamed him. He hadn’t been as gentle as he should have been. Then again, she hadn’t seemed to mind.

  “The visions feel very real, even though they aren’t. I can’t explain—”

  “You don’t have to.” He pulled her closer, rubbed his cheek against her hair. “It must seem odd to know me but not know me.”

  “Odd isn’t the word I’d use.”

  “What is?”

  “Both comforting and exciting. I know you. You’ll never hurt me. But I also don’t know you. Every touch is both a memory and a surprise.”

  “How can it be a surprise if you’ve seen us, seen this, seen everything before?”

  “Not everything. Not all of it. Time changes what happens. People think they’ll say one thing, instead they say another. Visions aren’t exact.”

  He thought of the crones and the spell. “More’s the pity.”

  She made a muffled sound of agreement and cuddled closer. He wanted to hold her like this forever. He was terrified he’d lose her. She was both a stranger and a part of him as no one else had ever been. Willow had lived with that duality all her life. That she wasn’t crazy was a miracle.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He pressed his lips to her hair. “Of course.”

  “Your sister—”

  He tensed.

  “If you don’t want to tell me, I understand.”

  “No.” He didn’t want to, but he should. “She died.” He let out a short, sharp breath. “Obviously.” Hence the ghost.

  “What happened?”

  “My parents were killed in a boating accident.”

  Now she tensed. “Water is dangerous.”

  “Yes,” he answered. Though, as her former psychiatrist, he should probably tell her it wasn’t. But they were beyond that fooli
shness. Water was dangerous. It was also life-giving—in more ways than one. “I was twenty and my sister, Emma, was fifteen. I took care of her. But not well enough.”

  Her arms tightened around him, but she remained silent. She didn’t argue that it hadn’t been his fault, and because of that he told her everything.

  “It was probably the worst possible time for a girl to lose her mother.”

  “I don’t think there’s a good time for that. Lost mine four hundred years ago and it still sucks.”

  “You’re right, of course. Emma was devastated. I tried to help. I thought I was so smart. I was studying psychology.”

  “You were in college and responsible for your sister?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Well, no. I mean, legally I was, but I wasn’t very responsible. I believed she was exhibiting typical teenage behavior. I talked at her instead of with her. I thought I was getting through, but she just told me what I wanted to hear so I’d go away. I left her on her own too much. She needed something I didn’t give her.”

  Attention? Time? Love? Discipline? All of them and more.

  “She made new friends. I was happy she had something to do, people to hang with. But these kids…” He shook his head. “I should have checked them out. I didn’t. They weren’t the kind of kids anyone should hang with. Ever. She overdosed. I didn’t even know she was on drugs.”

  Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to know. Hadn’t wanted to see. He’d been such a fool.

  “I was taking exams when it happened. They couldn’t reach me. I got to the hospital just in time to watch her—” His voice broke. “I begged her not to go, but—”

  A tear dripped from Willow’s face onto his chest. Sebastian kissed her hair again. It kind of helped. The tightness around his heart loosened.

  “That’s why she’s haunting you.”

  “I don’t blame her.”

  She leaned back to see his face. Her eyes were luminous. They seemed to shimmer silver in the light from the moon. “Not because she blames you, but because you blame you.”

  “Why wouldn’t I blame me? It was my fault.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I wasn’t able to help her and I should have been. I should have been able to help you too.”

  “You did help me. You’re still helping me.”

  “I’m no good for you. You should stay away from me.” He should stay from her. He’d be of no more help with what was going on here than he’d been with what had been going on with Emma. He couldn’t bear it if Willow was hurt because he was an idiot.

  “I’m not even going to address that stupidity.”

  He wasn’t sure which stupidity she meant, but she didn’t give him a chance to ask.

  “Your sister loves you. I saw that as clearly as I saw her. She doesn’t blame you, but she can’t go on until you let her.”

  “I’m not sure how.”

  She laid her head back on his shoulder. “You will be.”

  She sounded so certain, he almost was too.

  “Sebastian?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I think I’ve loved you all my life.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d told her his most profound shame, and she’d made it less shameful. He’d admitted his shortcomings, and she’d insisted they weren’t shortcomings at all. He’d suggested she leave him; she’d stayed right where she was and admitted that she loved him.

  Luckily he didn’t have to say anything as her breathing evened out; her body went heavy against his, and she slept.

  For a long time, he stared into the moonlight and listened to her breathe. He’d do anything to be able to listen to her breathe every night for the rest of his life. He knew that with a certainty that both comforted and confused him.

  But there were worse things to do anything for than love.

  *

  I awoke to the sun shining across the bed. When I’d fallen asleep it had been the moon. The sharp contrast between silver-tinged night and golden-bright light would have made me think I’d dreamed the first, except there was a man in my bed.

  The man.

  Had I told him I loved him? That seemed dreamy too. If I had, I was glad. If I hadn’t, I would. He needed to know. I needed him to know.

  He’d shared his deepest pain with me. I hoped that sharing it had helped. I couldn’t believe he’d carried that guilt for so long. After we finished sending Roland back where he belonged, we’d work on sending Emma—on sending all the ghosts that haunted us back where they belonged.

  I kissed Sebastian’s scruffy chin. I liked him with a beard. I liked him without one. I just liked him. Almost as much as I loved him.

  He didn’t stir. Someone had worn him out.

  I slid from the bed with a smile. I wanted badly to wear him out again.

  After a long hot shower, I dressed in more of my sisters’ clothes and slipped from the room, intent on coffee. As soon as I opened the door, the line of rosemary across the threshold scattered. I kicked it all over just in case Sebastian saw it. I didn’t want to explain what it had been for and bring up thoughts of his sister again. We needed to concentrate on one supernatural entity at a time. Demons first.

  Pru lifted her head from her paws and watched me as I put on coffee. I couldn’t wait for the entire pot to brew, so I stuck a cup beneath the stream and, when it was full, put the carafe back where it belonged.

  What would today bring? I hoped a better plan than yesterday’s.

  I went to the window. The sun sparked off the dew that trembled atop the grass. The world seemed to wobble. I had just enough time to set the coffee cup down before I wobbled too. Pru began to howl.

  The crones were back. Or maybe they’d always been there but I was back. Same cave, same rock, same grimoire. Different page. This one said—

  “Banishment.”

  Raye stood next to me. The cave rippled and Becca appeared. She was still a wolf. Bummer.

  We join together the power of blood-linked elemental witches.

  Each crone set an item on the stone, one of them—who looked different somehow, but I couldn’t figure out how—set down two.

  Athame. Wand. Pentacle. Chalice.

  He comes.

  The whisper swirled from the air, the shadows, the dark—three voices as one. They lifted the items, then chanted.

  Go back from whence you came. Banished. Now and forever.

  A shadow loomed in the doorway—the hulking figure of a man flickered to the hunched shape of a beast. Hooves one instant, feet the next. Horns to head. A tail, there and then gone. I didn’t want to see whatever that was when it stepped from the darkness and into the light.

  The crones didn’t either. They tapped the four items together and zzzzt, a bright beam flared. The man-thing shrieked, and his shadow was pulled backward away from the women, the fire, the light.

  He is gone.

  The crones set down the objects and smiled toothless smiles. I found myself smiling too. We had a new plan.

  The next instant I was in the living room again, on the floor, with Raye holding one hand and Becca with her paw planted firmly on the other. Pru sat right behind her. Sebastian, Owen, and Bobby hovered nearby.

  I sat up. “Sorry.”

  “Why?” Raye helped me to my feet. “That was awesome.”

  “Being scared awake by a wolf first howling and then scratching down the door isn’t my idea of awesome.” Sebastian’s pants were zipped but his shirt was inside out. As it was a whole shirt and not a ripped mess, he’d borrowed another at some point.

  “Ditto.” Bobby frowned at the bedroom doors; which seemed to have been mauled by a mad dog. “We’re gonna have to pay for that.”

  “What did you see?” Sebastian asked.

  “Act Two of the crones saga. Page two of the grimoire.”

  “There was a second page?” Owen sat on the floor and put his arm around Becca. She licked his chin.

  Pru yipped at an empty corner, which, cons
idering Raye’s head tilt, wasn’t that empty.

  “Henry says grimoires contain information on both the summoning and the banishing of demons.”

  “That would have been good to know before we summoned one,” Sebastian muttered.

  I took his hand. It seemed to help.

  “Spilled milk,” Raye said. “Let’s move on.”

  Quickly she related what we’d seen to those who hadn’t shared my vision.

  “The banishment of a demon requires combining the powers of blood-linked elemental witches,” she finished. “That’s us.”

  “We need all the items,” I said.

  “We have three.” Raye lifted one finger. “Asshole’s athame.” She lifted another. “My wand.” She drew a necklace from beneath her shirt. “The pentacle of an earth witch.”

  “Where’d you get that?” I asked.

  “I yanked it off Mistress June. She’d stolen it from an earth witch she killed.”

  “We need a chalice,” I said.

  “You need a chalice—the mystical item for water, your element.”

  “Can I buy one in the chalice section of the nearest big-box store?”

  “Very funny.” Raye didn’t appear amused. “There’s a Wiccan shop in Madison that carries them.”

  “We need something closer,” Bobby said.

  “Wiccan shops are a little scarce in northern Wisconsin.”

  “What about an antiques shop?” Sebastian asked.

  Raye cast him an appreciative glance. “Good call. There are a ton of those on the outskirts of every tourist town around. It can’t hurt to try.”

  “What if we don’t find one?” I wondered.

  “There’s always eBay.”

  *

  An hour and a half later we rolled into the parking lot of the first antiques store on our list. As Raye had said, there were a ton and they all seemed to have a Web page, which was both weird and wonderful. Weird because since they sold antiques, you’d think the owners would be anti-Internet. But wonderful because that made them so easy to find.

  Some were in restored barns, others in not-so-restored sheds. By noon, I felt like we were filming a new reality show: American Pickers Goes Wicca.