Witch's Fury. Deborah LeBlanc
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So far, Gilly was the only member of her Triad who hadn’t had sex with a Bender, and it wasn’t for lack of desire. Every time Gilly saw Gavril, the only thing that crossed her mind, no matter what else might be going on, was kissing his full bottom lip. She wanted to stare into his violet eyes and run her fingers through his collar-length, ginger-colored hair. She could have wrapped up her emotions in one huge, lust-filled package, but it didn’t explain why her heart ached when he wasn’t near. As much as she longed for him, she supposed guilt played a part in allowing it to go any further. After the Elders had found out that Viv and Evee had been intimate with their Benders, they’d confessed their senses of guilt to Gilly. They worried about the role their intimacy played in making things worse. But despite worry and guilt, however, they both declared that the drive, need and love for their men kept them going back for more.
“Fifty bucks for your thoughts,” Gavril said, as they walked to St. Louis I cemetery to check on the remaining Chenilles.
She gave him a sideways grin. “Isn’t it, ‘a penny for your thoughts’?” The Benders had been with the Triad for a little over two weeks now, and the longer they stayed, the more Gavril tugged on her heart strings. His looks were one thing, but she so admired his drive and determination, his caring, thoughtful manner, and his do or die attitude when it came to accomplishing any task.
Gilly and Gavril had been searching incessantly for her missing Chenilles. By last count, twenty-five had gone missing. If her brood wasn’t found before feeding time, chances were extremely high that they would start attacking humans for food. The police were getting involved, and that scared Gilly to death.
The last thing Gilly would admit to anyone, however—especially her sisters—was how badly she wanted Gavril. So badly, in fact, that it wasn’t unusual for her to have wet dreams about him. She felt a bit guilty about that. Viv’s entire troupe of Loup-Garous had vanished, as had Evee’s lot of Nosferatu. She should be thinking of them, of helping them, while keeping track of her own Originals.
She and her sisters had spent their lives working hard to fit into the social day to day of New Orleans so as not to draw suspicion that they were witches. They were also ultra-careful in tending to their Originals, keeping them out of the way, in safe zones, so humans wouldn’t find them. They lived in the Garden District and made sure to play nice with the neighbors at all times.
“So I’m a big spender. Besides, you haven’t said three words to me since we left Evee’s café to come to the cemetery. You looked so lost in thought, at times, I was sure you’d run headlong into a lamppost.” Gavril stopped walking and took hold of her arm gently, stopping her movement and turning her toward him. “I know things are crazy right now, but aside from that, are you okay?”
Gilly sighed. “Yes and no. I wish I could be more help to my sisters, but I know I have my own Originals to look after.”
When she stopped speaking, Gavril studied her face. His eyes pierced hers, looking for more answers than what she’d just given him.
Gilly bit the corner of her mouth, unable to resist the questions in his eyes. “And I’m scared. So much has gotten out of control that I don’t know if we’ll ever know normalcy again.”
Gavril ran his hand up and down her arm with a soothing touch. “All we can do is the best we can do. You can’t explain why some of you and your sisters’ spells aren’t working, or if you know you haven’t told me about it, and I have no idea why the scabior canopies are failing. I mean, this has never been done before, not to my knowledge, but it should react similar to our scabiors, which never just go out.”
The Benders had assured the sisters that the Cartesians were not fictional creatures but real, vicious monstrosities that were determined to be the sole power in the netherworld, a three-dimensional place that held vampires, elves, djinn and other supernatural creatures. They had also dispelled the myth that Cartesians moved under the cloak of invisibility. It only appeared that way because Cartesians were able to slip in and out of physical dimensions in the blink of an eye.
The Hylands were able to track Cartesians by their scent, which was a noxious odor of sulfur and clove. They’d been taught, as were their fathers and grandfathers before them, how to battle the giant hellions in order to protect those who lived in the underworld. They did so by using a special weapon called a scabior—a six-inch rod of steel with a bloodstone attached to one end—which was handed down from generation to generation.
Not long after the Benders had arrived, in order for them to find the missing Originals and keep the ones they had safe, they’d created a scabior canopy, an electrical shelter that hovered over each safe zone. No Cartesian would be able to drop in through that crisscrossed electrical current.
“But they did go out. One of them, anyway—Evee’s, the one Lucien set up in the catacombs for the Nosferatu. Remember? He told us he’d had to recharge the current. Then, before we knew it, it was completely out, and all of the Nosferatu that were inside disappeared.”
“I know.”
“How could that happen?”
Gavril frowned and shrugged. “It’s as much a mystery to me as it is to you. What’s stranger still is that the canopy was still intact over the north compound, where Viv kept her Loup-Garous, yet all of them disappeared.”
“Yeah,” Gilly said. “Explain that one.”
“I wish I could, but I have no answers. The canopies were something that had never been done before, just a brainstorming idea that seemed to make sense, so we really don’t know their power or capabilities. As for the Loup-Garous going missing with the shield over the compound still operational, it’s beyond me. The only thing I can figure is that they purposely chose to leave.”
Gilly shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Their food is there. Safety is there.”
“That may be, but if they’ve never known anything else but the safe zones, they have no way of knowing what they face once they escape it.”
Gilly lowered her head reluctantly. She didn’t want to break eye contact with Gavril. His gaze consumed her, no matter the topic of conversation. The rest of him was nothing shy of downright hulk, bulk and sexuality. He exuded all three.
Although Gilly had never asked his age, Gavril appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He stood at least six foot four and had a body and face built for GQ—wide shoulders, biceps that looked like he could lift an elephant one-handed and, even from the black T-shirt he wore, the ripples in his abs were evident. His violet eyes were accented by a short, red beard, an aquiline nose and a cleft chin. His hair, the same color as his beard, sat just below shoulder length. His lips were always something Gilly worked hard to avoid looking at. Average upper, thick bottom, a mouth made for kissing. For deep, passionate kisses, not only on her own lips but all over her body.
When she looked back up at him, his eyes were still on her face. “Right now, our best move is to make sure your Chenilles are okay in their safe zone and lead them to their feeding. Once that’s done, you bring them back here, and we keep hunting for the ones that’re missing.”
Gilly watched his lips as he