Witchy Woman Read online

“It’s your call,” he said, reaching across the table to lay his hands over hers. “If you’d rather I keep my distance, I’ll be in the next room.”

  “One scream away.” Her grim smile faded almost as soon as it appeared. “I think we ought to stick together. Am I—would that be teasing you? To ask you to share my bed without any sex? Now you’re finding out how naive I really am. I don’t know the rules ’cause I’ve never played the games, but I know being a tease is bad.”

  “These are special circumstances,” he said, wishing he had the strength to deny her request. But at this point he would do anything she asked of him. He was, he realized, completely nuts over the woman.

  He was falling in love with a witch.

  If Nate had any doubts about the efficacy of the curse, they were laid to rest the next morning. After a tense, eight-hour stretch of lying next to Tess and waking up from one nightmare after another, each more gruesome and terrifying than the last, he awoke to find that his hot-water heater had leaked to near empty during the night. Not only did he have to deal with a lake in his hallway, but he had to shower in ice water.

  Then his toaster exploded when he tried to transform a couple of stale bagels into breakfast, causing a small fire in his kitchen. When he tried to pull the cord out of the wall socket, he damn near electrocuted himself.

  If all that hadn’t convinced him, the early-morning drive to Sudbury, where they planned to check out the cemetery, did. A tree fell on them, or very nearly so. Nate was driving Tess’s car because of her swollen ankle, and a hundred-year-old tree suddenly heaved over for no apparent reason. Nate floored it, catching only the massive tree’s outer branches on the back of the car.

  He’d scarcely recovered from that fright when a drunk driver—or at least, someone who drove like a drunk—strayed across the center line of the highway and nearly front-ended them. Again, only Nate’s quick reflexes and a mild flirtation with a ditch saved their lives. After those two near tragedies the curse didn’t bother with staged accidents. The car itself tried to drive them off the road.

  Nate held the steering wheel in a firm grip, using every muscle in his arms and shoulders to keep to his course.

  “What’s going on now?” Tess asked as she watched his struggle.

  “The damn car seems to have a mind of its own. I can’t—oh, God, no!” The car veered into oncoming traffic.

  Tess grabbed the steering wheel; between them, amid honking and squealing tires, they narrowly avoided another collision.

  “It’s that next road, on the right,” Tess said. “God, I can’t believe this. Even the map has turned against us. I just got a paper cut that ought to have stitches!”

  Nate followed her directions to the tiny churchyard, his stomach roiling. Why couldn’t he wake up and find this whole trip was a continuation of the previous night’s nightmares?

  He pulled the car, obedient for the moment, under a huge chestnut tree and cut the motor.

  “I do believe in curses,” he chanted softly. “I do, I do, I do.”

  TEN

  Tess thought Nate looked a little pale as he got out of the car, but she couldn’t blame him. She was shaking herself. “You know,” she said, “in a way, all these terrible things happening to us are a good sign.”

  Nate, who’d been rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, paused and looked at her. “Come again?”

  “The curse, or whatever force is behind it, is working awfully hard at trying to stop us from casting the spell. That must mean we’re on the right track. It must mean we have at least a chance of succeeding, or why would the Cat bother to stop us?”

  Nate came and stood beside her. “I apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For not believing in this thing from the very beginning. I can’t deny now that there is something very powerful out to get us.”

  “It’s only natural for a logical person such as yourself to want proof.”

  “I have it now, that’s for sure.” His eyes bored into hers. “Tess, a minute ago you said ‘the curse, or the force behind it.’ What exactly are you talking about?”

  Tess rubbed her upper arms, fighting off the chill that came from within. “I don’t even want to speculate.”

  Her answer obviously didn’t satisfy him, but he didn’t press her, for which she was grateful. She’d already lain awake the night before thinking about the power of the force they were up against, speculating the worst. Morganna had mentioned something about a “Dark Lord.”

  She shivered again. “You ready?”

  He nodded, his throat working as if he wanted to say something.

  The cemetery was a small one, fenced in black wrought iron and nestled among some trees behind a picturesque white frame church—picture-postcard perfect. The area was deserted. They couldn’t see anything around them but trees. It was a perfect setting for their midnight ritual.

  The entry gate was locked, but the low fence didn’t provide much of a deterrent. Even with her tender ankle, Tess didn’t have much trouble vaulting the barricade. She waited for Nate to join her, but he didn’t. She look back at him.

  Nate stood on the outside looking in, his face frozen. He’d gone from pale to almost green.

  “Nate? What’s wrong?”

  He swung his gaze toward her. “Remember that first day we went out to the antique stores? And I accused you of having a phobia about cats?”

  “Yeah …”

  “I’m well acquainted with phobias. I have one.”

  “Cemeteries?” she squeaked. “That’s right. You did say something about that. I remember now.”

  “Uh-huh. I thought—I mean, it’s completely irrational. I know that. I intended to tough it out, but I don’t seem to be able to make my legs take me over the fence. I can’t even look at all those headstones without getting queasy.”

  “It’s okay, Nate.” She reached over the fence and touched his arm. Funny how automatic the gesture had become. Touching, which until a few days ago had been the bane of her existence, seemed completely natural with Nate. Comforting, even.

  She felt his horror, though. Beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead and upper lip.

  She nodded miserably, then shook herself. They had business to take care of, but there was no reason for them to linger in this place longer than necessary. “Stay here, Nate. You don’t have to come inside the fence.”

  She turned and walked briskly toward the far corner of the cemetery, where the newer headstones were located. Vibrations reached out for her like grasping vines, but she determinedly shook them off. It took only a couple of minutes of scanning the epitaphs to locate Mary Beth Logan’s headstone.

  TAKEN TOO YOUNG, HER LIFE BARELY BEGUN, the etched granite stone read. SHE IS WITH THE ANGELS NOW. A ribbon of grief laced itself through Tess’s mind. She went with it for a moment, letting the tears come to her eyes, then released it. There, that wasn’t so bad. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a big white bow, which she stuck to the top of the headstone so they could easily locate the grave later that night.

  It seemed almost too easy, she caught herself dunking as she hobbled on her sore ankle back toward the exit. But she supposed they were entitled to have something go right.

  Nate waited for her exactly where she’d left him. He helped her over the fence. “Did you find it?”

  “Yes.”

  He opened her car door for her, then walked around and folded himself behind the steering wheel. The car started right up and behaved perfectly as Nate pulled onto the road. Nothing more was said until the church and graveyard were well out of sight.

  “I’m sorry,” Nate said. “I feel like an idiot, a coward, to let a bunch of marble and granite and old bones scare me.”

  “Please don’t apologize. Weren’t you the one who told me not to be embarrassed about a phobia? That they were common?”

  “Yeah, but that was before it was me acting irrationally.” He paused, staring out the window. “My moth
er died when I was four.”

  Tess cringed inwardly. “Oh, Nate, that must have been horrible.”

  “I haven’t been near a cemetery since, not even when my sister died. But I thought I could … no, I will. I’ll go in with you tonight, Tess. I promise. I stood there at the fence the whole time you were inside, and it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I can do it.”

  “I know you can,” she said simply, believing that with all her heart. Nate wasn’t weak. He would do what needed to be done when the time came. She had absolute faith in him.

  Everything was ready. Tess had assembled the ingredients for the spell and placed them in several canvas tote bags Nate had supplied. She had practiced reaching into the bags and withdrawing the various powders and whatnot in the order in which she would need them, assisted by her parapsychological powers. She had committed the spell itself to memory, then rehearsed it at least a hundred times, so that she could chant the appropriate words at the right moment without stumbling.

  She had coached Nate on his responsibilities, which he was suddenly taking very seriously.

  Finally she had taken a ritual bath in cool water laced with sea salt. Nate made them some potato soup and peanut-butter sandwiches for dinner, but Tess could hardly touch the food. Her stomach was tied in knots no Boy Scout ever knew. She meditated, using some long-ago-learned mantra, trying to make herself calm and serene. The potential for mistakes was huge, and she didn’t want nerves to be a contributing factor.

  After dinner, she called the hospital. Judy’s condition had deteriorated further. “Now would be the time to come,” the nurse whispered confidentially.

  Oh, God, what a choice to have to make, she thought as she woodenly hung up the phone. Should she go to her friend and be with her during her final hours, or should she risk everything with a dangerous magic ritual?

  Nate took her hand. “We have to do the spell,” he said. “I know you want to be with her, but if we don’t finish this thing, I’m afraid we’ll all be seeing each other sooner than we like—on some other plane, if you get my drift.”

  She knew exactly what he was talking about, and she was forced to agree with him. “Nate, do you realize you just read my mind? I was thinking about the choice I had to make, and you responded as if I’d posed the question out loud.”

  Nate looked confused. “You did say it out loud.”

  She shook her head, looking down pointedly at their hands, which they’d unconsciously joined. “Maybe the connection goes two ways?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not psychic.”

  “Everyone’s psychic to some degree,” she said, but with that she let the matter drop. The idea intrigued her, though. No one had ever picked up her vibrations before.

  By nine-thirty, she felt ready. She figured they had at least an hour, though, before they needed to leave for the cemetery. An hour before they took the final, irreversible steps in this macabre drama.

  They sat in the living room, each of them in one of the club chairs, staring at each other. Tess had noticed that Nate had started avoiding the leather couch, the way she did. She wondered why.

  “You can back out now if you want,” she said suddenly. “I can do it alone.”

  He shook his head. “No way. I started this thing with you, and I’m going to finish it.”

  “One or both of us might be killed,” she said, just in case he hadn’t figured that out.

  He had. “I know that. I believe it. But we’ve already cheated death more than once, even if it was by inches. I have to believe we’ll keep cheating the bastard.”

  They fell silent for a time. Tess became more aware of the darkness outside. She knew the exact moment that the moon rose above the horizon—she could feel the rays of pale light enhancing her power. Her blood seemed to race through her veins. Her skin became almost unbearably sensitive, so that she was aware of every fiber of her clothing rubbing against her.

  Or, she considered, maybe the way she felt had nothing to do with magic, other than the ordinary man-woman kind. Nate’s gaze was trained on her, palpable as a caress. She suddenly remembered how it had felt to kiss him, to have his arms around her. Her body reacted to the memory, sending a surge of warmth to her center.

  “Nate.”

  “Yes?”

  “If I …” She stopped, choosing her words very carefully. “If we don’t succeed in lifting the curse, I don’t know what will become of us—death, insanity, or just miserable bad luck for the rest of our lives.”

  “Yeah. We’ve covered that ground.”

  “Well, I don’t want to go to my fate without knowing … what it’s like … to be loved.” Her face flushed hot. She couldn’t believe what she was about to suggest. But impending doom had turned her brazen.

  Nate’s eyes widened. “I thought you couldn’t. You have to—I mean—” He sputtered to a stop. “What do you mean?”

  “We can’t physically make love,” she said hastily, determined now to voice her idea. “But we’ve developed a pretty strong psychic link. If you were to hold me and—and think about what we would do if we could …” Oh, was this an idiotic idea or what?

  Nate appeared truly stunned at first, but then a slow smile spread across his face. “I’m not sure you want to know what I’m thinking. It’s pretty strong stuff.”

  “Yes, I do,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster. “I want to be one with you, body and soul. If we can’t do the body thing right now, then I want to see into your soul.”

  “But I won’t be able to see into yours,” he said, his voice like black velvet against her senses. Just the same he rose from his chair and came toward her. He drew very close, but he didn’t touch her.

  “If you open yourself up, maybe you can,” she said. “You already read my mind once. And you’ve stopped sitting on the leather sofa, like maybe you have a little part of me in you already.”

  He looked over at the sofa, his face reflecting amazement. “I have been avoiding it.”

  She held her hand out to him. “Touch me, Nate. Please?”

  Slowly his large hand enfolded hers, warm and reassuring. “You didn’t honestly think I was going to refuse, did you?” He pulled her to her feet, then encircled her lightly with his arms. “Like this?”

  “Mmm.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. Already his vibrations were nudging her consciousness. Rather than tensing up, she relaxed against him and opened her mind. This was Nate. Whatever he was thinking about her—no matter how earthy it might be—would never hurt her.

  Nate ran his hands up and down her back, relaxing her further. “I don’t know about you,” he murmured against her hair, “but I think we ought to sit down for this. Otherwise we might injure ourselves.”

  She leaned into him. He almost made her smile. “Your fantasies are that good, huh?”

  “Wait and see.” He maneuvered himself into the chair she’d just vacated, then pulled her into his lap. “Lean back and put your head on my shoulder. I’ll just put my arms around you like this.…”

  There were no more words, at least not that Tess was aware of. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let the images come to her.

  She found herself in a room surrounded by white satin drapes. She wore a flowing gauzy dress, her bare feet sinking into plush carpeting. In the center of the room was a mound of silk-covered pillows in all shades of pastel. She could smell the delicate scent of roses.

  She had only a moment to appreciate the decadence of her environment, when Nate appeared beside her. He looked much as he did in real life, wearing worn jeans and a crisp cotton shirt, but the wild glint of passion in his eyes, unchecked, was something new: A thrill coursed through her, followed by liquid heat. She’d had no idea a man’s eyes could be so arousing.

  He touched her arm lightly and paused, as if asking for permission to continue. But when she looked up into his face looming above her, those passion-shined, determined eyes, she knew nothing in the world would stop this fantasy
. She couldn’t even open her eyes and put a halt to things—as if she wanted to. Her physical body was paralyzed.

  Her fantasy body was anything but, yet she found that her free will had little to do with how the fantasy played out. She moved as he wanted her to, though without his saying a word.

  It seemed perfectly natural to turn away from him and allow him to unfasten the long row of tiny buttons down her back. She shivered with pleasure each time his fingers came in contact with her bare skin as he accomplished the task quickly and smoothly.

  When he was finished, the gauze dress slid off her shoulders and down to pool at her feet. To her surprise, though not her displeasure, she was completely bare underneath it.

  She was not embarrassed in the least to have Nate see her this way. Of course, why would she be? It was a dream. But it felt like so much more than a dream, as if their souls were commingling on some astral plane. It felt more real than any vision she’d ever experienced.

  Nate continued to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders, nuzzling her sensitive nape. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. His breath was warm against her skin, and she found herself wishing he would move those strong-but-sensitive hands of his to other places on her body, the places that tingled with longing.

  She wondered idly how she looked in his mind, then realized that he couldn’t see her. He might be using his imagination to dream up this fantasy, but she alone was experiencing it. That thought made her a little sad.

  Immersing herself in the experience soon overshadowed any melancholy thoughts. She bathed in the glow of his approval as he ran his hands lightly along her back, exploring each muscle as if he were playing doctor, rubbing his thumbs along her spine. He cupped her buttocks briefly, causing her heart to try to beat its way out of her chest.

  Then he whirled her around to face him.

  He was naked. How he got that way, she supposed, was no concern of hers. She breathed in and out, taking in the sight of his beautiful body with its tanned, hard planes. The hair on his chest, just a light dusting, was light brown with a surprising tawny glint to it. His nipples were small and dark.