9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (40 page)

* * * *

A
block away, MeLora threw back her head and laughed deep in her throat.
That
was her competition, that poor, incompetent, scraggly-looking creature without
enough sense of magic even to dry her hair and clothes? The woman was a
weakling. An
Impure.
Nothing to fear there, even if her last name was
Winslow, her magic was too diluted to be of any use to her.

No, Saylym Winslow hadn’t a clue as to how to harness her powers.
She was no threat to her plans whatsoever.

MeLora
drew a sparkling green infinity symbol in the air. It was time to return to the
king now, worry-free. Her life-long plans were safe. There was nothing to stand
in her way, certainly not that weakling half-breed witch who smelled worse than
a pile of horse manure.

In
a flash of light, MeLora vanished from Sanctuary. The sound of her wicked
laughter echoed down the street.

* * * *

Saylym was unwilling to forgive Talon when he returned to
the shop at closing time to escort her home.

“I’m not going with you anywhere. You left me in the
lurch,” she accused.

“I don’t want you on the streets alone,” he said. “It’s a
dangerous time of the year for beautiful witches, especially one in heat. I
insist on walking you home.”

“Bloody
hell! All right! Walk me home,” she exclaimed. “But first…” She gestured at the
still-sodden interior of the shop.

Silently,
Talon began to set things to rights.

Saylym
watched with a jaundiced eye, but she gripped his arm as they finally left the
shop. “Speaking of beautiful witches, do you know a woman named MeLora Haven
who claims to be a witch?”

Talon
gave her an exasperated sigh. “If she claims she’s a witch, darling, then she’s
a witch. You have to accept the fact we’re witches.”

“Uh-huh.” Saylym snorted. “If she’s a witch, why didn’t
she help me clean my shop with magic?”

“She
refused to help you?”

“Yes,
and she wasn’t nice about it. She called me an
Impure.”

Talon laughed softly and pulled her close beside him. “You
are
an
Impure
, darling.”

“She said no
waken
would want to bond with me and
no warlock would want to mate with me. She said I smelled.”

He shook his head. “You do smell but I’m getting used to
your scent.
We
are going to bond, Saylym.” He patted her shoulder. “Poor
baby, you’ve had a rough day, but it’s fixed now. I’m sorry I left you in such
a hurry.”

Talon was less cheerful than he appeared. It had been a
big waste of time rushing off to talk to his father and the guild. How odd that
he’d been told to come back later today or make an appointment. The guild was
becoming very strange when they demanded reports but refused to see him without
an appointment.

And who was this witch who’d been rude to Saylym?

Saylym
paused in front of her gate. “How can a place as quaint as Sanctuary be
dangerous?”

Brushing
a tangled curl back from her face, Talon eyed the pink scar on her temple. It
was gradually fading. By morning, it would be gone. “Still have a headache?”

“No,
you fixed it. Finally.” She was still miffed at him.

“I
had an urgent need to talk to my father. A business matter I’d forgotten. Are
you going to forgive me or keep huffing at me every time you speak to me?”

“I
never
huff!” She frowned. “I just don’t like it
because you deserted me in my hour of need and I’m not sure about this bonding
thing.” She punched him on the shoulder. “And I didn’t hear you deny that no
waken
would want to bond with me. That hurts. Because it means that hateful witch
told the truth, so therefore, I’m assuming you don’t actually want to bond with
me.”

Talon felt himself flushing.

“So why are you insisting we bond?” persisted Saylym. “All
right, going to see your father is your business, and you did heal my injuries,
and you put my store back the way it was before the sprinklers went berserk
from what you call my bungling magic. I guess you don’t want to talk about our
bonding, but if you expect me to take you for life, you’re going to have to be
honest with me…sometime.”

Still he was silent, and Saylym blew out a puff of air.
“All right. Since you aren’t willing to talk to me, I’ll change the subject. I
find it hard to believe it’s dangerous in Sanctuary.”

Talon
cupped her face and brushed a light kiss against her mouth. “Trust me, Saylym
when I tell you it’s dangerous. It’s Beltane.
Wakens
already feel the
effects. You certainly don’t want a warlock catching your scent and coming
after you. Some
wakens
have already made their claim on their chosen
mate. Others will be on the prowl, but warlocks are a different breed. They
have no consideration for their chosen female at all.”

He
brushed a wayward curl back from her face. “Female witches give off a special
scent this time of year. Warlocks respond just the same as male witches.” His
eyes searched her face. “It’s a fertile time, a time for renewing life, and
females are bred, at least those that can get with child. Some are bred indiscriminately
by
wakens
or warlocks, and even demons. I only want to ensure your
safety. Though you are claimed, you cannot go out on the streets at night
without a male escort.”

She shook her head, smiling, and he knew she didn’t
believe a word he said. She was so damned innocent, it broke his heart. He
reached inside his shirt pocket. “I have something for you.”

Saylym gasped as he placed a small, yellow kitten in her
hands. “Where did you get her?”

“Him,”
he corrected. “His name is Topaz.”

She laughed softly as the kitten licked the palm of her
hand, and then nipped at her fingertips with its sharp baby teeth. “He’s
precious.”

Talon
arched a brow. “I doubt it, but he’s for you. Topaz, do you accept this witch?”

The
kitten lifted its tiny head and mewled softly in answer.

“Saylym,
do you accept Topaz?”

Saylym
grinned. “It sounds as though you’re marrying us. Yes, I accept Topaz.” She
stroked the kitten’s gold colored fur.

Talon
released a deep pent-up breath. Another hurdle passed.

He
pressed a light kiss to her mouth. “You’re already part of the way mine, Saylym
Winslow. I have to go now. Goodnight, sweetheart. And Topaz?” He shook a finger
at the kitten. “Behave yourself.”

The
kitten blinked innocently at Talon.

* * * *

Saylym held the kitten in her hands and watched Talon walk
away. Absently, she stroked the yellow fur. The man knew how to tug at a
woman’s heartstrings.

She frowned, wondering vaguely what he meant by saying she
was already partly his? Probably something to do with the fact that he’d touched
her but not taken her virginity or his continued belief he was a
waken.
Despite
all the evidence she had seen, she was still not quite convinced of this. He
might be a professional magician.

“So,
he gave you a
Futhar
of his choosing.”

Saylym
jumped at the sound of Eldora’s cackling voice behind her.

“Futhar?”
She eyed the kitten suspiciously.

Eldora grinned and nodded her white head. “That is one
serious young man, missy. Not only has he marked you as his, but he also took
the first steps of the bonding ritual. It’s a very significant thing when a
waken
chooses a
Futhar
for a witch. It’s like purchasing a ring. His intent is
plain to see. He will be ritually mating with you by the zenith, if not
before.”

Eldora
snickered and rubbed her hands together. “I couldn’t have chosen a better
waken
for you.”

Saylym’s jaw dropped. “It’s just a kitten. There’s nothing
significant about it.” Eyeing the kitten she held in her arms, she grinned. “My
ferocious protector.”

“Oh ho, you mark my words, missy. That young man has every
intention of making you his.” Her eyes sparkled with approval. “He’s a good
man. He’ll take care of you. Keep you safe.”

Eldora
hummed beneath her breath, then did a little jig, digging the toes of her
pointed yellow shoes in the dirt. She twirled around and around, giggling like
a young girl. “Oh, to be a young, horny witch again, and have a stud muffin
sniffing at the portals of pleasure.”

“Eldora!”
Saylym giggled.
“Sniffing?”

Eldora
wiggled her snowy brows and sighed. “Indeed, those were the days.”

Chapter
Twenty-Six

Bridget Bishop was hanged in
Salem. Hers was the first official execution of the Salem witch trials. Following
her death, accusations of witchcraft escalated in Salem and neighboring
villages, but the trials were not unopposed. Several townspeople signed
petitions on behalf of the accused they believed to be innocent.

~Bridget
Bishop

“I am no
witch. I am innocent. I know nothing of it.”

~ Salem Witch Trials

June 10, 1692

Ru-Noc

Droth

City of the wakens

It was past seven in the evening when Talon entered the palace. The
guards saluted him, some snapped to attention while others dipped their heads
in silent greeting as he passed. With a slight nod of his head, he acknowledged
their cordial gestures and started up the wide, crystal staircase.

He needed to find his father and inform him of what
he’d learned about Saylym and his decision to bond with her. After that, he
intended to return to Saylym, order the bonding ceremony, and finish this thing
once and for all. He wanted it done and over with, the sooner the better. He
couldn’t shake the feeling he was running out of time.

He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Saylym was in full season and
ready to breed.

And he was more than ready to mate with her. Breeding her was another
matter and something he still wanted to give careful consideration. Once he
planted his seed in her, there would be no going back. He didn’t know yet if he
was willing to risk fathering an
Impure
. As a second-generation
Impure
,
the child’s ability to perform magic would be considerably limited.

Talon froze. Shit! He didn’t really know how many generations of
Impures
ran in Saylym’s family. He had simply assumed she was a half-breed, but her
blood could be diluted more than that. Depending on what generation she was, a
child between them might be born with no magic skills whatsoever.

Troubled, Talon started on up the staircase when a guard called out to
him, “If you’re searching for the king, he’s in the Council Hall.”

Damn. That meant his father was probably meeting with
the guild. He wouldn’t have a moment alone with him. He certainly didn’t want
to discuss the possibility that Saylym’s blood could be more diluted than he
originally reported in front of the elders. He blew out a long breath in frustration
and changed direction, moving past the tall columns and toward the Council
Hall.

A guard stationed near the door halted him. “I’m sorry Prince, but the king
doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

Talon frowned. “He’s expecting me. I have something
important to discuss with him.”

The guard stepped in front of the door, blocking the entrance. “I have my
orders, Prince. I’m sorry. The king has a guest and they are…discussing
business.”

Talon nodded. “Very well. I’ll try later.”

He retraced his footsteps to the staircase. He’d take
this opportunity to visit with his mother. He’d barely started down the wide
corridor after climbing the grand staircase when he felt something rub against
his leg. He bent down and picked up the cat.

“Celine. What are you doing out here in the hall?”

Celine was his mother’s
Futhar
, a beautiful, pure white,
longhaired Persian feline with exotically slanted turquoise eyes. His father
had given her to his mother on their bonding day. It was rare that the feline
was away from Helayne’s side.

Celine wrapped her long tail around his arm and
purred. “The queen has the sniffles. She was afraid I’d catch it, so she
barricaded me from her chambers. She won’t allow anyone in there I’m afraid.”

“Damn,” Talon said. “Well, you can’t stay out here in
the hall. Come with me. I have the perfect home for you, sweet lady, until
Mother is feeling better.”

Celine grinned, her mouth wide with a smile. “Purr-fect.”

* * * *

Sanctuary

The
following morning, Saylym perched on a kitchen barstool sipping a glass of
orange juice and keeping a wary eye on the yellow kitten Talon had given her.

She
narrowed her eyes, suspicious of the gift she’d accepted. At least, she thought
it was the same kitten, but if so, then it was the fastest growing kitty known
to mankind.

Perhaps she should make that the fastest growing kitty
known to witchkind. Overnight, Topaz had left kitten-hood behind and sprung to
the size of a full-fledged tomcat, an
immense
tomcat with orange, white,
and black stripes. He was now the size of a half-grown tiger.

The way the big cat watched her with those slumberous,
greenish-gold eyes, made her wonder if it wasn’t considering her for a snack.
Now she knew exactly how a defenseless mouse felt when cornered by something
that looked as big and dangerous as this little ‘kitty’.

She definitely felt like prey. She snorted. “Domesticated,
my ass.”

The animal had woken her before dawn by leaping onto her
chest and giving her chin a few licks with his sandpaper rough tongue. She
screamed and tried to push the cat off her, but the thing weighed a ton. It
meowed pitifully, begging for something to eat.