From Rags to Witches, Page 2

  “The wife of a Ring elder is currently visiting a small town in West Virginia. We’re to escort her back to her husband in New York City.”

  I waited for more. When it seemed like he was finished speaking, I frowned. “Can’t she just hop on a plane all by herself?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Okay, well, can’t her husband go fetch her himself? You’re a consultant, not a courier.”

  “He is certainly willing to do that. However, this particular location is…” Thierry hesitated as if seeking the right word. “Problematic for this elder. He has a history with a current resident that could escalate into a more explosive situation if not handled delicately.”

  I sighed. Sometimes my inner translator didn’t work perfectly to help me understand Thierry’s enigmatic way of speaking. “Meaning?”

  Thierry spread his hands. “Witches versus vampires.”

  I grimaced. “Witches.”

  “Yes.”

  “Of all the witches I’ve ever met, only, like, two of them didn’t try to curse me or kill me,” I reminded him.

  “Then you, better than many others, understand the volatile potential here. But you won’t have to concern yourself with a great deal of interaction with any witches. We’re only interested in the vampire.”

  “The elder’s wife who doesn’t know how to travel solo.”

  “Like I said, it’s not that simple.”

  “Nothing ever is, is it?”

  I chewed my bottom lip, thinking about Amy and how much I wanted to mend our tattered friendship. Thinking about my good night’s sleep last night. And thinking about that pair of shoes I hadn’t gone back for, but they still beckoned to me.

  “Maybe I’ll sit this one out,” I told him. “It sounds pretty straightforward, and I’m kind of weary of airplanes and rental cars and need a couple days off. Would that be all right with you?”

  “Perfectly all right,” Thierry said without missing a beat. Then his brow furrowed. “However, there is something else you should know about this case.”

  “What?”

  “The wife…” he trailed off.

  “What about the wife?” I prompted.

  “I have…some history with her. But, as you would say, it’s ancient history.”

  I blinked. “Like what kind of ancient history?”

  “We were involved for a short time. It was nothing serious or complicated. In fact, it was I who introduced Alicia to her current husband.”

  I blinked again. Twice. “You dated this chick. The one her current husband has commanded you to fetch for him from Witchlandia.”

  Thierry grimaced at my word choice. “Actually, it’s Alicia who has requested that I personally escort her out of West Virginia. She isn’t currently speaking to her husband, much to his dismay.”

  “Hmm,” I said as I processed all of this.

  He watched me carefully, and a small smile began to play at his lips. “Do you still want to sit this one out, Sarah?”

  Let’s see. Stay in Toronto and try to feel as normal as possible again, focusing on angry friends and on-sale fashion? Or accompany my handsome and incredibly desirable husband as he headed south to help an ex-girlfriend in need. An ex-girlfriend in need who specifically requested his help?

  I gave Thierry the brightest smile I could summon from the very depths of my soul. “When does our flight leave?”

  2

  “Sarah,” Thierry said, his attention on the highway ahead of the black sedan that we’d rented at the airport. “You’ve sung that song fifteen times already.”

  “Bob Denver is highly underrated with today’s youth, you know,” I replied. “His lyrics are timeless. However, what exactly do you think he meant by Mountain Mama? Like, did his mother literally live here in West Virginia? Or does he look at the mountains and want them to take him home and change his diaper like he’s a baby?”

  “I haven’t visited this State in nearly a century,” Thierry said.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He glanced at me. “I assumed it was rhetorical.”

  “Rhetorical questions don’t exactly open the gateway to interesting road trip conversation, do they?”

  “Fair enough.” His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “By the way, I don’t want you to be concerned about Alicia. Part of me regrets burdening you with irrelevant information about her.”

  “Your history isn’t irrelevant to me, Thierry. None of it, even the ninety-nine percent you haven’t shared with me in explicit detail. And, don’t worry, I’m not devolving into a jealous puddle of goo here. We all have a romantic past.”

  “True enough,” he allowed.

  I eyed him with a wicked smile playing on my lips. “If you like, I’d be happy to tell you details about mine.”

  His knuckles whitened even further. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “I mean, I did have hundreds of passionate love affairs before I met you. You’re sure you don’t want to hear all about every single one of them? Chronologically or alphabetically?”

  He cut a wry look at me. “Hundreds.”

  I waved a hand. “Thousands, really. Gorgeous male models and A-list actors, mostly. With huge yachts and shiny convertibles.”

  “You’re teasing me now, aren’t you?”

  I grinned. “Is it working?”

  “Far better than I’d like to admit.”

  “I know my knee-jerk reaction was jealousy, and I’m sorry about that,” I told him. “The past is the past, and today is a gift. That’s why they call it the present.”

  “Clever,” he said.

  “I saw it embroidered on a cushion once.” But it was true. And I’d had nearly a whole day to come to terms with my witch’s brew of troubling thoughts, which was on the back burner since I’d met Thierry and realized that he had six full centuries of experience before he’d met me. I mean, he wasn’t a monk, even if he kind of acted like one now and then. Like, a super-hot monk who made my knees go weak with a single heated look from his intense silvery-grey eyes. Every damn time.

  “If you’re still concerned, I assure you that you won’t be coming in contact with any of the local witches,” Thierry told me. “However, while we’re here, I have been asked by the council to meet with the Baba Yaga.”

  “The Baba Wha-wha?” I repeated with a frown.

  His lips curved. “It’s her title as the leader of the witches. Her real name is Carol.”

  I took a moment to process this. “Are we talking about a witch like Glinda in The Wizard of Oz? Or the Wicked Witch of the West?”

  He considered this. “I believe it depends on the situation.”

  “I’m happy to skip that meeting,” I said. “I’d like to avoid any future curses like the one that turned me into an evil, soulless blood-obsessed villainess? Nearly ruined my life forever? Remember?”

  Thierry’s expression darkened. “I remember it all too clearly.”

  “Ah, memory lane. Good times.”

  “Not good at all,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  I reached over and slid my fingers through his dark hair, my heart suddenly full. “We’ll always find each other.”

  He raised a dark brow. “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart.” I leaned over and kissed him. He kissed me back.

  “Road,” he murmured against my lips a couple moments later.

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “Can’t see it.”

  “Good point.” I sat back in my seat and tried very hard to keep my hands off my super gorgeous husband. For now, anyway.

  I’d never been to West Virginia before. We seemed to be neck-deep in mossy wilderness, rolling hills, and thick forests, with just a hint of red and orange starting to paint the lush green landscape to accompany the early-October chill in the air.

  After what felt like forever, we entered a small town. I eyed it suspiciously through the c
ar window, searching for any witchtastic threats headed directly for us on malicious-looking broomsticks. The only questionable thing I saw was a gigantic statue of a bear in the town square who looked like he’d barely (bearly?) survived a war, surrounded by a massive amount of pumpkins.

  “Weird,” I muttered. Well, not the pumpkins. It was October, after all.

  Thierry drove down the main street without any comment regarding the benign weirdness of this small town of potential paranormal activity. A tiny grocery store with rotting produce displayed outside, including more festive pumpkins. A tinier hardware store, a barbershop, a gas station. I didn’t see a motel, but I’d bet it would be managed by talking cockroaches.

  Thierry must have noted my look of barely restrained underwhelm. “What you see is all a façade to keep humans from lingering. Past the security measures, so to speak, is a thriving community of witches, familiars, and shifters who prefer to keep their true identities secret, just as vampires do.”

  “Huh,” I replied. “Well, I guess that makes sense. I get the pumpkins, but what was with the bear statue with half its head blown off?”

  “That, Sarah, I do not have an answer for.”

  Thierry parked the car at a diner where Alicia had agreed to meet us. I stepped out and took a deep breath, half expecting to smell something unpleasant. Instead, the delicious scent of whatever the diner was serving for lunch today wafted under my nose. Just because I couldn’t eat didn’t mean my sharpened vampire sense of smell couldn’t appreciate it, as well as that of the pine trees and wildflowers that surrounded us.

  This town was already full of surprises.

  The diner’s interior charmed me immediately. It seemed to be designed by a grandmother who enjoyed gingham, baked apple pies, and gave big, warm hugs.

  The only thing strange about the diner was that no one was there, despite it being lunchtime. No one, except an elegant-looking blonde woman at a table in the center of the diner, drinking from a floral teacup. She watched our approach with interest.

  “Thierry de Bennicoeur,” she said, her voice as sweet as one of those aforementioned apple pies. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Alicia,” Thierry replied with a nod. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long.” She stood up, walked directly to him, and gave him a hug.

  One that, to his credit, he didn’t return.

  She drew away with a smile dancing on her lips, and her gaze slid to me. “And you must be Sarah,” she said.

  An aside before we continue. I’d made my peace in the last twenty-four hours about this assignment. Seriously. I wasn’t going to allow myself to be threatened by meeting someone from Thierry’s past. The two of us had gone down this road a couple times before. Me being jealous. Him being jealous. Jealousy…well, it wasn’t a cute look. And at a certain point in one’s relationship, trust had to be established if it’s to be successful. I felt confident that we’d mutually made it over the finish line of that particular marathon.

  I trusted Thierry with both my life and my heart.

  While Alicia was just as beautiful as I’d expected—with the kind of blonde hair that poets would describe as “spun gold,” eyes like sparkling sapphires, and a body like Pamela Anderson during her Baywatch days—I was deeply relieved that not a single part of me was triggered to physically hold Thierry back from her.

  He was with me. I was with him. And I had the shiny rock on my left hand to prove it.

  This Alicia chick, however? All bets were off when it came to her intentions. Thus, my ultimate decision to be Thierry’s unofficial chaperone on this business trip. And Blondie seriously needed to cool it with the random hugs if she didn’t want to be personally introduced to my dark side.

  For now, I’d be nice. Nice would be my middle name today.

  “That’s right.” I smiled and held out my hand. “It’s great to meet you, Alicia.”

  She shook my hand firmly, her attention all on me now and surprisingly pleasant. I guess I expected to see that look—you know, the look that another woman uses to size you up and decide if you’re worthy of her time and effort. But the only look I received was one of friendly curiosity.

  “So you’re the one,” she said, taking a seat back at the table and gesturing to Thierry and me to join her.

  “The one?” I repeated.

  “The one who won Thierry’s heart after all these many years. I’ve heard so much about you, Sarah. It’s wonderful to meet you in person.”

  I sat down, and Thierry took the seat beside me.

  “I can just imagine what you’ve heard,” I said, more guarded now. “I hope it’s not all bad.”

  “Not at all. I heard that you’re smart and savvy and have an uncanny ability to unravel a mystery when one presents itself. And that you follow your heart wherever it leads, whether toward danger or adventure. Also, that you’re an invaluable ally, a loyal friend, and you’d go to the ends of the earth to help someone in need.”

  I took all this in with surprise, weighing her words and the true sincerity in her voice. “Wow, who said such nice things about me?”

  “Your husband did,” she said simply. “On our phone call yesterday when we arranged this meeting.”

  I shot a look at Thierry. “You said that?”

  “It’s all true,” he replied.

  A grin spread across my face as my heart swelled and did a quick flip-flop. “Debatable.”

  He shook his head. “Not debatable. Fact.”

  “If I had half the marriage you two have,” Alicia said. “I probably wouldn’t be here in Assjacket.”

  I blinked and tore my attention away from Thierry. “Sorry, did you say Assjacket?”

  She spread her hands. “That’s what they call it.”

  “Assjacket,” I said again, bewildered.

  “A name bestowed by a Shifter Whisperer named Zelda,” Alicia explained. “She has a very unique sense of humor, one that is shared by many in this town and surrounding areas. She’s as hilarious as she is beautiful, really.”

  “Okay. Well, I don’t know what a Shifter Whisperer is, but, given what little I know about this town, I’m assuming it’s some sort of witch,” I said.

  Thierry nodded. “Zelda is a very powerful witch with the ability to heal Shifters with her white magic. She is beloved here. And, yes, she nicknamed this town Assjacket, and now that is what it is officially known as.”

  “Fair enough,” I said with a shrug. Frankly, it was well worth the price of admission just to hear Thierry say “Assjacket.”

  “Now, back to our reason for being here, Alicia,” Thierry leaned back in his seat to regard her solemnly. “As I said on the phone, Sarah and I are more than happy to personally accompany you back to New York City. Your husband is very concerned about you.”

  “Concerned, is he?” She absently slid her finger around the edge of her teacup. “I bet he is, not that he’d ever express this to me personally. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m free to do whatever I want to do and seek whatever adventure I wish to have. I’ve asked him for a divorce that he’s refused to give me, but I don’t suppose Franklin mentioned that, did he?”

  She said all of this matter-of-factly, with no detectable emotion at all.

  My conversation with Amy echoed in my ears. Another reminder that true love didn’t always last.

  “No, he didn’t mention that,” Thierry said. “And it’s none of my business. All I know for sure is he’s worried about your wellbeing.”

  “Is that what he told you?” Alicia replied tightly.

  “It is.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Did you tell him where I am?”

  “He already knew, and not from me. Alicia, I understand that you are dealing with some marital difficulties, but this location is not an ideal place for you to contemplate your marriage.”

  She sighed. “I’m getting sick and tired of men telling me what to do and how to think. I’m a hundred and forty-five years old.”r />
  Thierry shook his head. “I’m not telling you what to do. You’re the one who called me.”

  “I did. I needed to see for myself that the once great and powerful Thierry de Bennicoeur now follows orders from Franklin Bates and his associates. It’s a bit pathetic, really.”

  “Hey,” I snarled at her, my anger flaring out of nowhere. “Be careful how you speak to my husband, lady.”

  Alicia raised an eyebrow at me. “My apologies. That was rude, and I’m sorry. Mentions of my husband, especially of late, raise my ire.”

  “It’s fine,” Thierry said evenly. He hadn’t reacted at all to the insult, his trademark poker face firmly in place. “It’s your life and entirely your decision if you wish to remain here indefinitely.”

  “That isn’t my wish. In fact, my business in this town is very nearly at an end, and my future is very bright. But, I’m afraid, it doesn’t contain Franklin.”

  At that moment, I felt something in the air—apart from the sticky tension that had just washed through the diner like a wave of rancid maple syrup. A tingling presence, like the night of a storm, just before there’s any rain. Electricity in the air.

  This sensation was followed by a ribbon of purple smoke that twisted and snaked through the diner around our table. A cascade of rainbow sparkles blew past me, whipping my hair back from my face. And then, suddenly, we were no longer alone in the diner. A woman strode out of the swirling sparkles and smoke and toward our table, followed by a couple of men wearing hooded robes.

  I just stared at her for a moment in stunned silence, and it wasn’t just because of the way she was dressed, which was…well, in a word?

  Retro 80s.

  Which, I know, is more like two words.

  She looked like a Madonna Like-A-Virgin cosplay with dozens of neon-colored rubber bracelets encasing her wrists. Lacy, fingerless gloves adorned her hands. She wore a bright blue sweatshirt that exposed her left shoulder. And, yes, those were definitely hot pink leg warmers to finish the look.

  “Thierry de Bennicoeur,” she began. “I wanted to personally welcome you to this town.”

  Thierry had risen to his feet, taking her gloved hands in his and kissing her on each of her cheeks, very European-like. “Baba Yaga, it is truly an honor to be in your admirable presence.”