Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel (13 page)

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“Ten years.”

“Wow,” I said, feeling a little stupid as soon as the word was out of my mouth.

“What’s wow?” he asked.

“I just thought you were younger than that, that’s all.”

“It’s all in your skin care regime,” he said with a grin, posing for me. “That, and I stay out of direct sunlight.” He winked at me then, making me burst out laughing. The bubble of stress that had been building inside of me burst suddenly and I felt lighter.

“Thanks,” I said as I wiped a tear away.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “I think I can do this.” Fletcher nodded at me and offered his arm again. This time I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow naturally, as if we’d been walking arm and arm for ages. This hallway was bright and open, the ceilings were higher, and the walls were painted a soothing tope against the beige carpet. The light fixtures hanging from the ceiling were large and chased all the shadows away.

“Do you know where Theo is?” I whispered to Fletcher, not sure if these walls had ears and I didn’t want people to know we were looking for the Master.

“I have a pretty good idea,” Fletcher replied. “About this time of night, she likes to take a soak. If we hurry, we should just catch her.” That bubble started to form in the middle of my body again, pressing at my skin. I had absolutely no desire to see Theo naked; just the pictures I had seen of her in magazines were enough to give anyone an inferiority complex. Add her stealing your boyfriend right out of your bed, and you would almost want to kill yourself. I could only hope her body was starting to show the signs of her immense age. The thought of her body deflated and sagging lifted my spirits and I was practically bouncing on my feet as we walked.

We took the right at the end of the hallway, and in just a few feet, we came upon a beautiful old oak door that arched high overhead with ivy and flowers carved into the aged wood. Fletcher reached for the wrought iron handle, paused before opening it, and turned to look at me.

“Please try to keep your cool, okay?” I nodded at him, not trusting my voice. “I mean it; they’ll stake me for doing this if they even suspect I know what you’re up to.”

“I’m not here to kill her, Fletcher. I just want to talk to her,” I said. When he continued to stare at me, I lifted three fingers of my right hand and said, “Witches honor.” He smirked at me but opened the door.

A gust of warm air and rolling steam billowed around us. We stepped into the wide, sweeping room and my skin was instantly dewy. It was a huge bathhouse with water fountains against every wall, and in the center of the room was a long, shallow pool. Little ribbons of steam twirled into the air. Vampires and humans were draped all around, on benches, in the pool, even on the floor. Glass pitchers of ice water with sliced fruit were placed strategically around the room with bowls of orange slices and grapes for grazing.

Half a dozen pairs of eyes swung our way as the door fell closed behind us and I realized how out of place we looked. Me in my jeans and jacket with my bag draped over my shoulder and Fletcher in his black on black clothing and his three inch platform boots with way too many buckles to count. I chewed the inside of my cheek, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands.

“Fletcher my sweet,” a rich, lilting voice rang out. The rolling tones hit me right in the chest, and if it wasn’t for Fletcher’s arm, I might’ve fallen. I had been around vampires my whole life, they were as open and proud of their existence as the rest of us, but until that moment, I didn’t realize how young all of the vampires I had ever known were. If this is what her normal voice could do to me, then I had made a horrible, stupid mistake coming in here.

“Mistress,” Fletcher said with a bow of his head.

“Come to me, Fletcher,” Theo said. Though she said it lightly, there was no mistaking the pull of the command in her voice. Fletcher moved forward without pause, dragging me along behind him. My fingers flexed around his arm until my nails were cutting into his sleeve. I desperately wanted to unwind my scarf and pull off my jacket, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was due to the temperature of the room. We crossed the room, every pair of eyes tracking our progress though they all tried to feign disinterest.

Theo was reclining at the end of the pool. The bubbling water provided a little coverage, but I could see the pale, perky mounds of her breasts just peeking out of the water. Her shoulders were smooth as milk, her arms draped over the edge of the pool. Her honey blond hair was piled and pinned on top of her head in a mass of curls and twinkling jewels. When we were standing by her head, she looked up at Fletcher and smiled.

Her mouth was a perfect pink bow with a full bottom lip. Her eyes shone with power like trapped sapphires. Her skin was so damn flawless that she looked like one of those porcelain dolls humans liked to collect. She set her dripping hand on Fletcher’s ankle, fingering the bottom most buckle.

“I see we have a new pet,” she said, not bothering to look at me. A trickle of sweat escaped my hairline and rolled down my cheek, dropping to disappear into my scarf. Fletcher didn’t respond to Theo, merely maintaining eye contact with her. “And what is her name?”

“My lady?” Fletcher asked. Just her voice had set him in a trance. Clearly I hadn’t chosen my escort as wisely as I had hoped.

“Your pet,” Theo said, snapping her fingers, leaving a few drops of water on Fletcher’s leather boot. “Her name, what is it?”

I looked from Fletcher to Theo and back again, praying that he wouldn’t tell her my real name, but I knew better than to answer for him. The gods only knew what Theo would do if a pet spoke out of turn.

“Her name is Matilda,” Fletcher said in an inhumanly robotic voice. I flinched, closing my eyes and refusing to breathe for a moment before I looked at Theo again. Her bright blue eyes were on me, studying my face, while she drew inconsequential designs on Fletcher’s boot with the tips of her fingers and the trail of water.

“Matilda,” she repeated, stretching out each syllable, tasting the letters of my name. “I imagine your friends call you Mattie.” Her eyes flashed, the pupils growing until all I could see were pools of black. I refused to look away. I was a witch, and her little party tricks couldn’t affect me. I would not let her scare me either.

“Yes,” I said, “my
friends
do call me that.” Theo pursed that pretty little mouth of hers in a simpering smile as the blue slowly edged back into her eyes. She released Fletcher and snapped her fingers. In an instant, everyone was moving. Vampires and humans were slinking out of the bath and disappearing from the room while two others brought a flowing white robe to the edge by Theo’s head. She stood, the water cascading down her body, leaving her white skin almost pink and steaming. Her servants helped her into the robe, settling it on her shoulders and moving around to tie it into place. It clung to her shapely body in all the right places and swept out behind her, exposing her lithe legs. She snapped again and the two servants bowed and scurried away, leaving the three of us alone.

“Fletcher,” Theo placed her finely manicured fingers on his cheek and I realized how small, how petite she was, “go sit like a good boy.”

I couldn’t help but blink when Fletcher turned and walked to a nearby bench, perfectly obedient. Theo moved closer to me and I had to fight the urge to step away and put some distance between us again.
Don’t run from vampires or Weres
, I reminded myself and tried to keep my knees from shaking.

“Matilda.” Theo circled me, taking in every inch of me. When we stood face to face, I couldn’t help but marvel at how close in stature we were. We were within an inch of each other’s heights, only my boots gave me an edge tonight. Our builds were surprisingly similar, but she was the more voluptuous of us, and there was no denying it now that I had seen the entire, well-groomed show. And no, she was not sagging and deflated because sometimes life just wasn’t that fair. Instead, Theo didn’t look a day over the twenty two years she had been when she was turned during Queen Elizabeth I’s reign.

“Theodora,” I replied with a small incline of my head.

“Please,” she said, “Theo. You may call me Theo.”

“That’s just peachy, but you can’t call me Mattie,” I said before I could stop myself. I waited for her to strike, to put me back in my place, but instead she chuckled. I kept my face schooled, trying desperately not to show her how surprised I was.

“Very well, Matilda,” she agreed. “I am surprised to see you here. I thought perhaps you were too well behaved to gloat.”

“Well behaved?” I shook my head at her. “What are you talking about?”

“My Owen hasn’t been home for days,” she said, her eyes never leaving my face. “You should know better than most that it is unwise to come here and gloat over that victory since I could have him back here, his face pressed to my feet in an instant.” She snapped her fingers in my face to underscore her words. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck again and an ache forming in my stomach. This woman knew all the right buttons to push. How I’d like to push her damned button. She started her idle circle around me again and I heard her sniff behind me and I could just see that sneer on her face.

“I don’t have Owen,” I said, biting off each word. “The Lord and Lady of Dunhallow have him because you took Roane.” I whirled around to face her, leaning into her, popping her bubble of personal space. I knew I was poking the lion in the cage, but I just didn’t give a crap anymore. My fists were so tight that I could feel my nails cutting into the skin of my palms.

“I took Roane,” she repeated, arching that blond brow at me. It formed a perfect upside down U on her forehead.

“Yeah, so just give him to me,” I said. “I’ll take him back to the Mound and they’ll release Owen. Nice and neat, all right?”

“Nice and neat, I’m sure.” She nodded. “There is just one little problem.”

“What?”

“I don’t have the prince.”

“Nice try,” I said, taking a step back to give myself a little breathing room. She hadn’t struck out at me yet and keeping myself so pent up waiting for it was just giving me a headache. “Why would they take Owen if you didn’t take Roane? Eye for an eye and all that biblical bullshit.”

Theo chuckled again, and for a moment, I saw her face soften.

“I can see why he likes you,” she said as she turned away from me. Lifting her hands, she pulled at the pins in her hair, causing it to cascade down in a golden waterfall. The curls bounced against the white fabric as she walked over to a bench where she lowered herself to sit. She moved like water flowed and it was almost mesmerizing to watch.

I refused to respond to her comment. I knew she was talking about Owen and didn’t need her to clarify it; she was just enjoying this game of reminding me that she owned him and could send him to and fro, breaking my heart at a whim.

“Let’s say I believe you,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why would they take Owen if you don’t have Roane?”

“Spunky, but not terribly bright,” she said, reaching for the water pitcher beside the bench. I counted to ten in my head, remembering to breathe. After she’d poured herself cup of water, she glanced up at me and said, “Obviously to get you to help them. They took someone just as important to you as Roane is to them.”

“Owen is not important to me.” I added, “Not anymore anyway.”

“Yes, be sure to get those lies out where you can,” she said, lifting the glass to her lips. “We all know the dangers of lying to the Fae.”

“I’m not lying,” I snapped. Theo stared at me over the edge of her glass as she took a sip, and I closed my mouth, reminding myself there was no point in defending myself to her.

“I grow weary of this,” Theo said. She closed her eyes and let her head drop back, as if she were basking in the sun. I started to open my mouth to say something, but Theo snapped her fingers again, and in less time than it takes to blink, I felt Fletcher’s hands on me, ripping my scarf away from my neck. The last thing I remembered before the world went black was the pierce of his hot, sharp fangs.

Chapter 8

The room was uncomfortably warm so much so that my hair was plastered to my forehead. I kicked off my covers and stumbled out of bed, picking at my shirt to pull it away from my damp skin. It was difficult to open my eyes, and when I managed it, my vision was soft and blurry. I managed to get to the bathroom and find the sink. The cold water on my face went a long way to waking me up, but I had to scrub the crusted makeup off of my face before I could get my eyes fully open.

The girl staring back at me in the mirror was practically unrecognizable. Though I’ve always been fair skinned, living a nocturnal life, I looked sallow and underfed. Circles so dark they looked like bruises were under my eyes and the whites of my eyes were bloodshot. My hair was greasy, as if I hadn’t washed it in days. But none of that mattered, not when I looked at my neck.

I touched the raw puncture marks over my pulse. They were still swollen and red. My fingers came away with a smear of red. My eyes burned and I had to squeeze them shut against the tears threatening to fall. My knees began to shake and I had to brace myself on the sink to keep from collapsing. I would not curl up on this floor and cry myself silly because of that woman, that thing, that monster.

Light streamed in through the slats of my window as the sun set over the neighboring building. I slapped them shut and turned on the shower, making sure it was hot enough to fill the room with steam and fog over the mirror so I didn’t have to look at myself a moment longer. I stood under the water until my skin was pink, trying to remember how I got home. How exactly vampires had gotten in my house without my invitation, unless Theo herself brought me in, but I couldn’t imagine she would lower herself to do that. No, it was probably human pets that got me inside. But how had they broken my freezing spell? Unless someone had witch pet. Unusual, but not unheard of.

I was toweling my hair dry, scrubbing my scalp, when I heard the pounding at my front door. I wrapped myself in my robe, synching the belt tight with an angry yank as I stormed out the bathroom. A big part of me was hoping it was Fletcher, or any vampire really, as sparks of power snapped at my fingertips, just itching to be unleashed. My caller pounded again as I walked into the living room, and I had to keep myself from running at the door. Without bothering to check the peephole, I threw all the locks and wrenched the door open, flinging it against the wall, hands up, ready to attack.