Page 2 of Curses and Cauldrons

Bram snickers. “Do you really think there’s truth to all that dark and light witch bullshit?”

“The divide cuts pretty deep. It has to come from somewhere.” I argue even though I’m skeptical.

Not once since I took over the running of the Grand Mystic Resort have I seen a light witch set foot on our property. Why the hell would this woman decide she’ll be the one to breach that unspoken rule? It certainly wasn’t so she could come fight us. Bram is right. With every step forward, she looks like her knees will crumble and she won’t be able to get back up.

I’m already on the stairs down to the lobby when Bram calls out. “Don’t start anything. There’re too many people around.”

I wave him off, my attention entirely focused on Josephine Delvaux. The crowd moves around her like a boulder in a stream. Her snail’s pace earning her questioning looks. I keep to the outskirts of the lobby and watch her slow steps. Each timeshe picks up her foot, a muscle in her jaw ticks. Her lips are pressed together so tightly, the color has leached out of them.

I sort through my knowledge of the woman. She’s the daughter of Francesca and Armond, the current ruling line of the Delvaux family. Which means that Josephine is likely a powerful witch. The powerful magical families of Mystic Hollows are very close-lipped about their magic. That doesn’t mean that we don’t have a general idea of what powers they possess. I’ve heard that house Delvaux has healing magic, although they aren’t involved in medicine. The family owns a spa that often poaches customers from the hotel’s facilities. To be fair, Blackthorn family magic involves shadows and the ability to control a witch’s soul, and here we are in the hotel industry. Who am I to judge?

There are three Delvaux sisters, both younger than Josephine. Although their names escape me. As the eldest witch in the family, Josephine must be the bearer of her family’s curse. Witches are a secretive group as it is, but our curses are something else altogether. They’re rarely spoken about outside our family circle.

The sliding glass doors open, letting in a fresh deluge of people. Josephine hefts her bag up, staying to the outside of the crowd as she makes her escape. She’s so preoccupied she never even notices me dogging her steps. A woman runs into her, and Josephine stumbles, her shoulder crashing into the side of the door.

This close, the light sheen of perspiration dotting her brow is evident. Her already pale skin has a wan appearance, and the black hair only emphasizes the pallor of her skin. I’m one step behind her as she slips out the door. Instead of heading toward the parking lot, she tugs the strap from around her neck and lets the giant bag thunk to the ground. Her back hits the limestone exterior with a tremulous exhale and her hands are shaking asshe presses them into the wall. There’s a pinched expression on her face and her eyes are closed when I step in front of her.

“What are you doing here?”

Josephine’s eyes fly open, and her lips part in surprise. She weaves slightly back and forth, holding on to the stone behind her for support. Lashes fluttering, she lifts her eyes to meet mine. Her gaze is steady and captivating, momentarily throwing me off balance. Her eyes are the most stunning combination of colors. Meadow green with a darker circle around the outer iris. She holds my gaze for a few seconds before dropping her chin.

I cock my head, trying to figure out why this woman would risk coming into Tenebris territory. It’s not like it never happens; we all have to get around the city. Mystic Hollows is divided by the Briar Hollows River, right down the middle of the city. There’s an unspoken rule that everything on the east is under the purview of the Lumen coven, while the west is overseen by the Tenebris coven. Generally, we don’t cross into each other’s territory.

“I had a client.” Josephine’s voice is soft, almost tentative.

I peer down at her stiff posture. A long-sleeved T-shirt covers most of her upper body. She’s wearing a pair of black yoga pants that cling to her long legs. Everything but her hands, neck, and face is covered, so I’m not sure why I’m reacting as though she’s wearing next to nothing. The large bag she was carrying rests against the wall. It’s a folded-up massage table.

“Why would you come to my resort? Don’t you have your own spa across town?” I narrow my eyes. What game is she playing? There’s nothing of interest at my hotel. No coven secrets that she can ferret out.

“I just go where I’m told.”

Crossing my arms, I stare at the woman in front of me. The Delvaux family is known to be tenacious and, at times, abrasive. That does not mesh with this meek woman in front of me. If Irecall correctly, Josephine is twenty-five. Her make-up free face looks younger, but her eyes are full of wariness. What is her curse, I wonder.

Fatigue marks her face. It’s not just her hands that are trembling; her whole body looks close to collapsing. A whisper of sympathy snakes through me, but I shove it away. For all intents and purposes, this woman is my enemy.

The feud between our two covens has been going on for hundreds of years. As children, both sides are taught to avoid the other, no matter what. I don’t know what kind of recklessness brought her across the river, but it was a foolish mistake.

I step forward, resting an arm on the stone above her head. Josephine shrinks away from me, but there’s nowhere for her to escape. She’s tall for a woman. Even in her sneakers, she must be close to five-nine. I lower my head, and she sucks in a sharp breath when my mouth hovers near her ear.

“You don’t belong here. Scamper back to your side of the city. I’d consider very carefully the next time you decide to walk into my hotel.”

Josephine turns her head away, her hair brushing against my cheek. A dark, seductive smell of flowers and cloves reaches me, and I drag in a lungful. The scent soaks into my cells, sweeping through my body.

Fuck, she’s delicious.

With a shake of my head, I step back and glare at the light witch. Where the hell did that thought come from? She’s probably some puritanical prude. The way her body seizes up makes me think she’s never been touched. She doesn’t need to worry about me putting my hands on her, though. What would be the point? With my curse, I wouldn’t feel a thing.

2

JOSEPHINE

It’s a cool November day, but I’m soaked in a cold sweat. Already exhausted from the massage I gave a client earlier, running into Roman Blackthorn while trying to escape his hotel did me in. I don’t know what my mother was thinking, allowing a client to schedule an appointment at the Grand Mystic Resort. That is Tenebris territory. As a member of the Lumen coven, I should never have been on that side of the river. My dear mother doesn’t care about those details when it comes to me. As long as she gets paid. If Roman reports me to his coven, it’s not like my mom will admit she’s the reason I was there in the first place. Even knowing all that, I still followed directions, like the dutiful daughter I am.

Coward. I suppose that’s another way to say it.

I can’t tear my eyes away from Roman Blackthorn as he strides away from me. Easy as can be. He practically pinned me against the side of his hotel, threatened me, and then walks off as though he didn’t just create a churning whirlpool of sensation in my body.

It’s fear. I’m sure of it. My body’s reaction has nothing to do with the perfect way he wears a suit, or his chiseled jaw. The heady cologne he wears that I can still smell and has my head swimming. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that no man has ever looked at me with that kind of intensity before. Even if the look was partnered with a threat.

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