Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2011 Lyn Brittan

ISBN: 978-1-927368-15-2

Cover Artist: LF Designs

Editor: Dana Horbach

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction
or distribution of this copyrighted work is il-
legal. No part of this book may be used or re-
produced electronically or in print without
written permission, except in the case of
brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, charac-
ters, and places are fictitious. Any resemb-
lance to actual events, locales, organizations,
or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

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DEDICATION

To G and O—I miss you.

THE LAST ETRUSCAN

Lyn Brittan

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Fanchon

Marie

shoved

another

charred brownie into her mouth.

“Not charred.” She corrected herself.

“Just overcooked. Less than burnt, slightly
more than crispy. It’s okay. Totally okay.”
Determination set in. She had to make sure
one thing went right today.

She opted to disregard the throat-

choking fumes that escaped her normally
bright kitchen and sidestepped shards from a
vase broken by a hurled smoke detector.

Instead, the tawny skinned brunette forced
down another piece of brownie and bit her
tongue in the process.

“Aww, come on!”
Curses that were much more colorful

followed as she took a handful of rocks nee
brownies and tossed them out the window.
This knocked two unlucky and totally inno-
cent birds out of the air, like feathery mis-
siles headed for the ground.

“Seriously?”
Pulling deep from her well of power,

the Vodou princess pressed her hands
against the humid New Orleans air, willing
the birds back into the skies. Apparently, one
had already joined that big ol’ mystical flock
in the sky, because all of her energy
channeled into one bird.

Not good. In fact, very bad. Beyond

bad. Disgustingly bad.

Small bird plus tons of energy equals

a very unpretty, splattered mess.

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Fanchon Marie, Destroyer of Baked

Goods and Avian Passersby, sank against the
wall of her whitewashed balcony and cried
over the old city streets. She cried long, and
it was the ugly type of cry that reddened
swollen faces and required tissues. Or a shirt
hem. The laughter of couples beneath her
feet only added to her wretched feelings.

And then it started to rain.
Right at that point, she really lost it.

Fanchon Marie let her tears flow freely for
the first time in years. She’d only baked the
stupid brownies today because of him. Him
being that no good gypsy vermin. Her fiancé.
This was all his fault: the dead birds, the
near kitchen fire, her tears.

“Oh!” She slammed her head against

the wall in frustration. He ruined everything
and sat primed to take her future away.

“Speak of the devil.” Fanchon Marie

shook her head at the sound of her cell
phone. “The Great Prince of Europe himself

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rings.” She knew it was him. She’d chosen
the perfect ringtone to signify their new life
together: Chopin’s “Funeral March Sonata.”
She considered answering this time. Really.
Then she looked at the bewitched ring on her
finger. “Whatever! Well, sir,” she shouted in-
to her empty (and only slightly less smoky)
townhouse. “I am unable to take your call at
the moment. Leave a message after the beep.
Get out of my city. Then die.”

Fanchon Marie curled up helplessly as

hysterical laughter took over her body. Her
day-- her life really--moved like a tragic
Shakespearean comedy. In a world of
iPhones and e-readers, she found herself
weeks away from a Medieval-style arranged
marriage without a single way to get out of it.
She’d tried to reason with him. Unsuccess-
fully. Bribery him hadn’t worked either.

And her family? No sympathy from

that sector. Her parents and siblings pushed

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it, and Lord knows, his certainly did as well.
Not too many options remained.

Okay no, it hadn’t been a secret and

yes, she’d seen it on the horizon for years,
but always her heart held on to a bit of hope
that her family would bust out some leniency
sticks. None were forthcoming.

With purpose, Fanchon Marie at-

tempted to slow her breaths as another call
made her phone to ring out. This time, a
bridal march. One of her brides. Irony is a
terrible thing. At twenty-seven, she was the
best and most requested florist in New Or-
leans and Baton Rouge and consistently lis-
ted at the top in area bridal magazines. Wo-
men rushed to her storefront to steal her few
open dates.

To be honest, they couldn’t help it.

That

wasn’t

Fanchon

Marie’s

fault

either...totally. She was old New Orleans,
descended from the strongest lines of Yat,
Indian, and African magic makers. Her twin

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traditions of Vodou and native earth magic
made most aspects of nature bend to her
will. Creatures of the Light loved her.

When she wasn’t lobbing baked pro-

jectiles at them.

But her magic meant that any floral

arrangement her brides dreamed of, from
the bizarre to the most traditional, she could
breathe into reality. Certain flowers went out
of their way to please her and more than one
bride swore up and down that she could hear
them sing. The oft whispered rumor sugges-
ted that any woman who came into her shop
left with a signed contract. Pretty true. A
little hex infused spritz to seal the deal didn’t
hurt either.

“Beltremieux Flowers where your

word is Power.” Fanchon Marie listened to
the bride drone on for as long as she could
before her thoughts drifted back to Him and
the first two times they met.

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He’d walked into her life when they

were barely five-years-old. He’d been an
amazing creature with his dark hair and
bright, oddly colored eyes: one blue and the
other gray. He didn’t speak English, only
Italian and Romanian but they’d found some
way to play, as all kids do.

He hadn’t stayed long enough for her

on that occasion, but when the time came for
his second visit, she couldn’t wait for him to
leave.

They’d been sixteen, and he’d spoken

near perfect English. Back then, she’d
thought everything about him screamed per-
fection. A sharp jaw, a glorious accent, and
those eyes appeared even more brightly
colored than they had in his youth. The only
thing not perfect? His holier than thou,
Euro-brat attitude. Born into the role of
prince to both the Italian and Romanian
Roma, he acted every bit the part He was
here in her city. Again. He’d been here for

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two years, though they’d taken care to avoid
each other. For good reason. He’d been oth-
erwise engaged. The last couple of years of
Prince Nicolae Luca Djordi Dobrogea’s life
were spent claiming New Orleans for him-
self, increasing his family’s holdings as he’d
been ordained to do since birth. Through
some tragic twist of magical fate that in-
volved her and she’d run out of time. The
wedding was imminent.

Fanchon Marie twirled the large art

deco engagement ring around her finger. A
two and a half carat diamond sat surrounded
by twelve smaller ones and four French-cut
emeralds. What an absolutely beautiful mark
of future imprisonment. Several times she’d
tried to remove it, but for as much power as
she had in her little body, nothing could get
the damned thing off of her. Fanchon Marie
held up the damned ring finger in the New
Orleans sun. She still couldn’t figure out how
he did it. Gypsy ensorcellement had a history

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of being tough – it caused physical, often
mind numbing pain to break it, but she could
get it done. Usually.

“Hello? Are you still there?” The ur-

gent voice on the other end of the phone
brought Fanchon Marie back to the present.

“Yes, of course. Stop by the shop so

we can review all of these details in person.
Once you see what I’ve worked up for you,
you’ll fall in love with it.” For the fifteenth
time, she added to herself. The doorbell
rang, and it removed a bit of the guilt she
had about forcing the woman off the phone.
“I’m actually in the middle of something, but
again, I’d love to speak to you about this face
to face. Tomorrow at five then? Very good.”

She ran, tripped on the antique rug

that covered the stairs then rolled to a stop
on the second to last step. “Hold on a
minute!” Correcting herself, only to slide
against across the last bit of fabric on the
floor, she reached for the door handle and

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received a jolt of static electricity for her
efforts.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”
Fanchon Marie leaned her head

against the door for a quick breather.
“Please, please, please don’t let anything bad
wait for me on the other side of that door.
Please.” She just needed to get through this
day without any additional drama.

With one final deep breath, Fanchon

Marie opened the door in a slow movement
and gently lifted up her eyes to see...not Him,
not a crazy bride, but...her neighbor, Sarah.
“Oh, hi.”

“Umm, hello there, Fanchon, sorry to

disappoint.”

“Fanchon Marie. And no disappoint-

ment, I’d prefer to see you over someone else
right now. What’s up? Anything I can help
you with?”

“Well, I wanted to return your salt,”

Sarah explained.

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“Huh?”
“You see, last night you were so tired

that you must have left the door unlocked. I
tiptoed right along in to borrow some salt
while you were sleeping there on the couch. I
hope you don’t mind?”

Oh my God! Salt? The one thing that

any good Vodou princess knows not to lend
out is salt. To borrow salt, to have it taken
even, didn’t do much but invite bad luck.
That’s when it became absolutely official.
Everything that could go wrong, did. Every
freaking thing. How much more bad luck
could she get in one day?

“Anyway,” Sarah said, as she pushed

her way into the house. “I’ve been taking a
class in tarot cards. Care to try it out?”

“Uh, no thanks. It’s not really my

thing.” As in, women of the Vodou don’t
mess with any magic not of their own, type of
thing. Nope. Not to be done. Fanchon Marie
could do some interpretation, but you

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needed to be a real master of it. The cards
either called to people, or they didn’t. And if
they didn’t, you’d best leave them the hell
alone. Couldn’t tell her that. No, Sarah was
one of those people who dabbled in magic,
readings, and various forms of mysticism,
while she dived head first into the deep end
of a pool she had no prior knowledge of. If
popular culture went against it, the woman
ran towards it, to hell with the consequences.
Which, tragically, brought her here.

“Ahh, come on!” The fool marched

over to Fanchon Marie’s table and plopped
down a series of cards. It was a Gilded deck,
easy to find and easy to read, but no less
powerful. A quick look at them and Fanchon
Marie fought to keep control of her face.
There were more than the normal 78 cards
here. Somehow Sarah’d managed to sort in
various cards from an Oracle deck. “Sarah,
did you know—”

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When the first card fell, she slammed

her mouth shut. Something in the bottom of
her stomach lurched, and she knew she
wouldn’t like whatever came next.

“Let’s see,” Sarah said. “First we have

the...oh...that doesn’t look good.” Not
something you want to hear anyone say
about your future. “The Fifteenth Trump.
Bondage? Anxiety? Futility? Perfect.

“Never mind that card.” Her puerile

voice continued, “Probably a fluke. Now the
next is the...uh...these things never work.”
The chick stood up so fast that she nearly hit
Fanchon in the nose with her elbow. “Maybe
I’ll sign up for that belly dancing class in-
stead. Anyway, gotta go. Thanks for the salt!”

The whirlwind of a woman picked up

her cards, trying to recover the last one with
the hem of her skirt. Fanchon Marie let her
leave without calling her out. She didn’t have
to. Only one card in the deck had the ability
to chill a person to the core like that: La

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Fouldre, the Tower of Lightning and Death.
According to that card, Fanchon Marie faced
certain destruction. She looked to the clock
on the wall -- it wasn’t even noon yet.

“Oh, one more thing,” her neighbor

called up to her from her door. “If you need a
ride to work, you let me know. Don’t be shy.
I couldn’t help but see what happened to
your car last night.”

Huh? Awww no. “What are you talk-

ing about?”

“Didn’t you know? It got towed!”

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Chapter Two

Prince Luca checked his watch and

sighed. He’d been up since the sun made an
appearance though little had been accom-
plished. Luca shrugged out of his black Ar-
mani jacket and tossed it over the seat in his
study before grabbing a stack of papers. Mer-
cifully, someone had the brains to shove a
brandy into his empty hand. Luca stomped
towards the ceiling high windows in the
room, following another vain attempt to call
her.

Yes, Her. Her being the Queen Bitch
from the Plant Bitchron.
“No luck?”
He didn’t bother to turn around. “Of
course not, Gregorio. You know how she
is. Little witch.”
“Look, Cuz, you have to make her un-
derstand that this is—”

A half-turn and arched eyebrow shut

him up. “Make her understand something
that has been in place since the moments of
our birth? Make her understand something
that she had surely been prepared for her
whole life? That we were born for? That both
our grandmothers saw in visions separated
by thousands of miles? Is that what you
deign to suggest to me, Gregorio? Because if
you are, thank you. The thought had not yet
occurred to me.”

“Well, I was, but I guess I’m not now,

Grumpy.”

“Quiet. Do you not have enough to

do?” He knew he did. In addition to
Gregorio’s duties as his lieutenant in the
clan, he also was the head of staff for his ac-
tual business. To have claim to the title of
Ram Baro had its benefits, namely tribute
from his people and the inherited wealth of
several small kingdoms, but he still had to
work. In exchange for all of that power and

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money, he had to protect his people and the
city they lived in. It was the Roma way. For
his family, they specialized in rare coins and
antique jewelry. Through Luca, some of the
most collectible and expensive items on the
East Coast were funneled into the country.

“You want me to send her more chocol-
ate? Diamonds? Diamonds dipped in
chocolate?”
“I told you to shut your mouth,
Gregorio.”
“Some silks? You need to up your game,
as they say here.”

“Be quiet, cousin.” Luca’s voice

dripped with venom. Gregorio got away with
a lot, but Luca’s patience with his second-in-
command ran shorter and shorter these
days.

“Soooo....”
“Gregorio!”
“Right, if I may speak about other

matters....” Luca felt something press into

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his side. “Here’s the data on the latest from
the Morlena Clan. They’ve ramped up the ag-
gression. The magic in the city grows darker,
but we can’t pinpoint the cause.”

Luca sighed as Gregorio scrolled

though an endless series of slides on the
iPad. With each tap, another image of
Morlena-caused trouble popped up on the
screen. He had an idea of what they were do-
ing, and it was so disgusting that he’d only
shared it with his younger cousin. Luca men-
tally eased out of the conversation. He’d had
heard similar reports since claiming com-
mand

over

the

New

Orleans

Roma

population.

“Sir?”
“Formalities now, Gregorio?”
His cousin wrung his hands before he

stuffed them into his pockets and rocked on
his heels. “Figured I needed to try something
extreme to get your attention. Look, I’ll send
out

Stephan

to

report

any

updated

23/360

movements. These people, they won’t let up.
They want our land.” Luca watched his cous-
in’s face take on a more piteous look. “As for
the other issue, well, good luck with that.”

He’d need all the luck he could get.

Luca said nothing as the door closed behind
the man and turned back towards the win-
dow. His mind traveled at supersonic speeds.
This new city of his stood on the cusp of civil
war. While most of the Roma clans in the
Southeastern area subjected themselves to
his authority, one renegade group outside of
Baton Rouge had it in their heads that they
should rule the region: the Morlena. Well,
tough. Luca’s blood ran blue with the blood
of Romanian and Etruscan kings of magic.
Theirs fell well-short. They’d had more than
enough time to help the cause of the Roma
here. Instead, they hadn’t even been able to
help themselves.

This was his domain, and New Or-

leans was its home base. He would fight like

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hell to keep it. Besides, his older brothers
would never let him hear the end of it if they
had to be called in to save the day. Luca
shuddered at the thought. No. He would
handle the situation his own damned self.

First, he would have to cement his

claim of magic on the area. To do that, he
needed to seal the deal with his magical New
Orleans bride. He intended to start today.
The Rom Baro had waited on her long
enough.

The floor of the old monastery, turned

home, creaked beneath his purpose driven
feet, and his voice bounced off the walls.
“Gregorio, have a dinner tonight prepared
for two. I have a woman to collect.”

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Chapter Three

“Open the door!”
Nothing.
“Fanchon Marie Cosette Beltremieux,

open this door right now!”

More silence.
“Fine!” Luca pressed his hands

against the metal locking mechanism over
the latch. Within seconds, the steel twisted,
cried then finally melted in a puddle at his
feet. Right onto his custom Berluti shoes.
Damn.

“Fanchon Marie, I am coming into

this house. We will sit down and engage in a
little conversation. Like adults.”

A stained shoe nudged the door open.

It gave no resistance after his little attack.
There, in front of him, stood his blushing
bride-to-be, ready to pounce with arms
stretched out wide in an offensive position.

She wouldn’t. “What in the hell do you think
you are doing?”

“Take one more step and I’ll make you
regret it.”
She would.
“Listen, Fanchon, I understand my tac-
tics have been a little high-handed,
but—”
“High-handed? You just broke into my
house!”

“Oh come on, Cara. I merely melted

the metal.”

“That’s called breaking and entering.

It’s a felony around here!”

“Do not judge me, Fanchon. This is

what we alchemists do. I will take care to fix
it on the way out.” Probably. Luca made his
way over to her sofa and propped up both
legs as if he owned it. Well why not? In a few
weeks, he would.

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“I didn’t give you permission to sit,

and my name is Fanchon Marie, not
Fanchon.”

“I chose not to point out your obvious

rudeness, but since you insist no, you did
not. And yes, I forgive you.” The look of
shock on her faced morphed into a hideous
snarl of anger. Kind of cute. “Now, come sit,
we need to talk.”

****
The synapses in Fanchon Marie’s

brain struggled to get the connections on the
move again, but she stayed stuck in disbelief.
This (mighty beautiful) idiot destroyed her
door, walked into her house, flopped down
on her couch, and this?

“We have been talking, Luca. Or do I
need to show you the million text mes-
sages you’ve sent?”
“It is the only way you choose to re-
spond for some reason and I—”

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“For some reason?” Reason? “The reas-
on, jerkface, is that I don’t want to
marry you and—”
“You never have. Sit down. Do not cut
me off again.”

Whoa. Did that really just happen?

Fanchon Marie sat but not due to his direc-
tion. Time to rest up and plan out her
strategy. This guy needed to go down.

Of course she’d known about the mar-

riage and the reasons behind it. This was to
be the union of two of the most powerful
clans in the world. As for the arranged part?
Eh, not good, but both of their families had
done it for generations as far back as anyone
could go. Even Fanchon Marie’s siblings had
been in for it, though they all came to love
their intendeds. Mostly.

And this was hers. She curled into the

recliner across from him, not to listen, but to
figure out what to do. In the looks depart-
ment this man was a king, a god, and

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everything in between. Shoulder length
brown hair and those powerful, mesmerizing
eyes. She’d always loved that about him.
Well, those and his pouty Roman lips.
Damn! He’d claimed descent from the last
Etruscan – those lusty early inhabitants of
Rome – and if those lips were any indication,
he’d done his forefathers proud.

“Are you listening to me?”
If he could only move those lips without
words coming out.
“Fanchon Marie?”
Ohhhh yeah, lick those lips, boy.

“Fanchon Marie!” Then a softer, more

playful recitation of her name. “Fanchon
Marie, Cara, do you find yourself fascinated
by my lips?

Totally busted. “No, I, do, not.” She

punctuated each word.

“Are you sure?” She tried to answer,

but then he licked his lips again. Luca rose
from the sofa to cover the distance between

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the two of them. He moved fast. “I have been
told that they taste as good as they look. I
wonder, do yours?”

Millimeters separated their lips. With

every other word, his mouth grazed hers,
sending hot lines of magic and lust through
her body. “You don’t have to love me, but
can’t we at least have this?”

He didn’t give her time to think, let

alone answer. In the next moment, his
mouth covered hers and explored its depths
with his tongue. Long live the freaking
Etruscans!

Luca pinned her to the chair then

boxed her in with his arms. If she had
wanted to get up, she wouldn’t have been
able to. Strong if.

Instead, she stayed trapped beneath

his lips, dizzy while his hands laid hot tracks
of lava up and down her spine. Possessive
arms tightened around her waist, lifted her

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up off the velvety red cushion, and brought
her closer to him.

“Things can be good between us. You

only have to allow it to happen, honey.”

Why did words have to pass those

lips? It snapped her back to reality faster
than spilled salt and a cut line. “Stop. Just,
get off.”

“Cara mia, that is exactly what I

mean to accomplish here.”

Fanchon Marie bit back a smile while

he tried to drag them both to the floor. “No,
Luca. We need to talk.”

“There has been a rather serious lack

of communication for years, thanks to you.
Now all of sudden you want to have a con-
versation? Fine.” Luca sat on the floor and
placed his arms on his knees and his head in
his hands. “If we don’t marry, there will be
war between the Roma and the Vodou
people. No matter how we try to end it, one

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side will blame the other. Can you at least
agree that is true?”

She could. But wouldn’t.
Luca unfurled long fingers and ticked

things off. “Two, in case you have not already
noticed, the magic is...off...in the city. So-
mething is not right, and it reeks of Besnik
Morlena and his clan.”

“Is

that

why

you

upped

my

bodyguards?”

Luca nodded, and she noticed a look

of genuine concern, but not fear. No,
whatever it was, Luca intended to handle it.
Still....

“Tell

me.

Something

else

is

happening.”

“The Pushrats are leaving the city.

There are whispers of an upcoming Roma
war that they want no part of.” She knew
enough to be concerned. Pushrats were the
half-Roma, half-gadjé who had no true alle-
giance to any clan, beyond their own famil-
ies. When they left the proverbial building, it

33/360

was time for everyone to roll out. By the time
the gadjé, or non-Roma, started to leave, it
would be way too late.

“Third, this IS my new domain. I must

have someone with the blood of the land in
their veins. That is you, Fanchon Marie. We
will be good together, in time. However, if
after our first child you want nothing to do
with me, then I’ll let you go.”

“Really?”
“No. It seemed like the right thing to
say.”
“Luca—”

“It is time to stop running from me

and time to fight. For me. With me. So-
mething bad is coming, and I know you can
feel it, too.”

Fanchon Marie nodded. “Whatever is

happening has been on the rise for months.”
It happened so slowly that she almost didn’t
notice it. It started like a tsunami, unhurried,
and with only the smallest of ripples at its

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beginning. “Something dark is seeping into
the earth. The trees, the ground, everything
is raw with it.” Only her private garden held
on to its beauty. Others had long fallen,
beaten until the flowers and trees hung down
like drained power lines after a great hur-
ricane. Luca interrupted her thoughts with a
jump to his feet. His face had grown red and
twisted. The dark glower went all the way
down into the “V” of his shirt. Veins visibly
strained beneath the skin of his throat and
biceps. “Luca, what’s wrong?”

“Which other Roma have been here?”
“As a rule I try not to have too many

in my—”

“Save the insults. Who else has been

in your home, Fanchon Marie?” Luca sniffed
the air, as if he’d been born part dog. Maybe
he was. He sure as hell growled like one.
“Stronzo! There is Roma magic here. Why
didn’t you tell me?”

“I assumed it was yours.”

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“Do not assume anything!” The arrog-

ant prick shouted at her like she’d been a
misbehaving child. “Despite what you may
think, not all Roma magic is unclean.
However, this is beyond marimé. It is filthy.”

Fanchon Marie felt a massive hand clasp
around her shoulder. “Come with me,
you cannot stay here.”
“Uh, sorry. This is my home.” She tried
to step away from him, but his grip only
tightened.
“Not anymore. This place is not safe.”

“But, well, wait a minute.” He couldn’t

possibly expect her to drop everything and
leave. “If I agree to go.” She chose to ignore
his rolling eyes. “I’ll need time to pack up. I
mean—”

“The spell here is a seeing enchant-

ment. Someone has been watching you.
Probably watching us right now.”

“Oh, my god.” Fanchon Marie’s

bravado crashed down in an inglorious heap.

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She shook violently at the thought of the vi-
olation. Someone watching her sleep,
shower, laugh, and cry. Everything she’d
done since - Lord, she couldn’t remember
when she first felt it. Her stomach twisted at
the intrusion. She ran for the bathroom, fell
to her knees, and clutched the open toilet.

After leaning over and vomiting into

the receptacle, warm hands ran across the
base of her neck and pulled her long black
hair out of the way. “I will fix this. I will.”
Luca said. “I promise to make the last mo-
ments of Breznik’s life, wonderfully painful
and excruciatingly unpleasant.”

Lord, she didn’t want to, but Fanchon
Marie crashed into Luca and sobbed in-
to his shoulder. “I want to leave. Now.”
She didn’t fight it when he lifted her out
of the bathroom, cradled in his arms like
a newborn baby. “My things?”
“I’ll buy you new things.”
“But—”

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“But, another man’s magic is on them
and until they have been purified, I can-
not trust anything in this house other
than you.”

Trust?
“And your bodyguards outside?”
“Oh no. Love, their heads will roll,

too.”

Love?

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Chapter Four

The ride over to his palatial estate had

been cloaked in silence. Mostly. His little
Vodou princess could not seem to make it in-
side the car without at least one snarky re-
mark. Her chosen target? The personalized
license plate on his custom made Rolls
Royce: vardo. The car though, was custom
for a reason. As a new ruler in an old city
with not everyone on board with his
ascendency, five-inch windows, tires that ran
flat, and double reinforced gas tanks were
more necessity than luxury. Beyond her ini-
tial comment though, nothing. She seemed
as lost in her own world as he was in his. And
though he had a range of things to think
about, they all centered around her.

Inches away from him sat the key. The

linchpin to ensure everything he wanted was
within reach together. The city, the power,

the future. All of it wrapped up in a tiny five-
foot shot of coffee with crème.

“Don’t stare. It’s rude.”
“Rom Baro.
“And?”

“And, that should remind you that

nothing I do is rude. It is an impossibility.”
He sagged back in the seat and cracked his
knuckles above the steering wheel. “In fact,
the only people who I deign to are my par-
ents and let us be honest, my love, they are
not around.”

Fanchon Marie huffed and cocked her

head to stare out the window. That worked
for him – it presented another angle of her to
stare at. Yes, she was fine to stare at. Beauti-
ful with huge brown eyes and jet black hair
he’d love to dive right into and pull at the
most opportune of moments. Her scream
ended the eye fest.

“Luca! Watch where the hell you’re

going!”

40/360

Swerving against the curve, Luca re-

leased the break, grabbed the gear shift, and
hexed the metal in the other automobile into
doing the same. Once he brought the car to a
stop, he rolled down the window to ease out
a more permanent hex, this one to force the
other driver to forget the entire event. There
was a pop of cobalt light that whizzed from
his finger and into the air. Like the iridescent
blue of a blow fly, and of a similar speed, the
light flew into the opposite car and disap-
peared. Luca chuckled despite the situation.
The best thing about normal people was
their porous minds.

He, however, wouldn’t be so lucky to

forget. “You all right, Fanchon Marie?”

“Sure! For someone who was nearly

killed! What’s the matter with you? It’s bad
enough I’ve got some crazy gyps– Sorry.”
She looked genuinely contrite. “Some Roma
fool out there spying on me, maybe plotting

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to kill me, but hell, maybe you should save
him the effort!”

How cute. Spunk, he liked it. Another

time he would have been impressed or
turned on. She spoke the truth. He had al-
most killed them both.

Again, the tiny thing drew his com-

plete attention. In her home, Luca had been
so wrapped up in her that he hadn’t noticed
the Morlena magic tucked between layers
and layers of numina until several minutes
passed. Minutes during which the two talked
and revealed information with the bastards
that he’d rather not share. And he’d nearly
taken them both out for the same reason.
She broke his concentration. Fanchon Marie
was in his freaking blood. He needed to get
her out of his system...he needed to take
away the enigma of not having what he
wanted and replace it was something he
knew he owned.

“What are you grinning about, Luca?”

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He spoke above a whisper. “Nothing

but the thought of taking you to bed.” Ima-
gine that it may well be my only chance of
getting a clear head. Remembering I have to
get some pipes clean.

“What are you mumbling over there?”
“Nothing. Let’s go home.”
****

Home.
He’d said it like she belonged there.

As the car pulled into the massive driveway,
she kinda sorta wished she did. Huge Gothic
spires overlooked the city. They jutted into
the sky, piercing the blue like a collection of
decorative hairpins coming out of a jar. As
for the indoors. well, equally whoa.

“Humble little cottage you’ve got here.

First the vardo, now this?”

“It suits my needs.”
Yeah, well, the gold inlay in the walls

suited hers, too. Still, who lived in an old

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church? “You don’t seem the monastery
type.”

Luca’s laughs rumbled deep from his

chest. It almost didn’t annoy her this time.
“Don’t be surprised at how devoted we Roma
can be. More importantly, this place is full of
old magic. Good and hearty. The strength of
pure faith lingers.” Luca walked over to the
stairwell. “Follow me to my study. I shall give
the servants a call to get things moving.”

Fanchon Marie did as requested in si-

lence. Not because she necessarily wanted to
-- more an effort to keep her jaw off the floor.

It was one thing to be wealthy. She

was. Really, all the great magical families
rolled in cash, but it was another thing to be
mind-blowingly, disgustingly rich. Each
golden archway led to another room of floor
to ceiling mirrors and arches. Repulsive and
beautiful.

Then there was his family’s crest. A

miniature version showed up on her skin

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after she’d first put on the betrothal ring
(she’d hardly call this an engagement). Still,
to see it so huge and so – well omnipresent –
overwhelmed her. She felt trapped. Again.

“What’s up with the family crests?”
Either he didn’t hear her as he barked

out orders on the phone, or he couldn’t be
bothered to answer. Whatever. Not a single
thing changed the fact that this man was ab-
solutely in love with himself and his family’s
seal. Golden eagles entwined with silver
wolves popped up at least once on each wall.

Fanchon Marie reached up to touch

one. Ensorcelled.

“Added protection.”
Was he a mind reader, too? She shook

off that horrible thought and traveled to the
farthest wall of the room to stare at two par-
ticularly massive wolves mounted on either
side of the fireplace. The artistry stunned
her. Each canine looked to be in mid-pounce.
Plus, the way their tails curled, well, if you

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put them together, they’d have wrapped
themselves around each other.

Fanchon Marie couldn’t help it and

bent to take a look.

Yep, one was definitely male…and he

looked pissed.

“Your room will be ready after dinner.

Someone will fetch clothing and toiletries,
and before you start with the harping, yes, I
know you would prefer to get them yourself,
but it is late. Cara, you are spent, and I in-
tend to fall into my bed after dinner. I will
have your things sent for in the morning.”

Pompous jerk. Fanchon Marie con-

sidered arguing, but there was a rumble of
boulders in her stomach that shut her up
right and proper. Ugh, couldn’t the bastard
at least have the decency not to smile about
it.

“Don’t start.” She walked back to the
rear of the room. Subject change, quick.

46/360

“These wolves over here, they look so
real.”
“They should, they are.”
Her fingers ran up one leg. “But they’re
gold—”

“And I am an alchemist,” he said as he

opened a bottle of wine. Just as casual as
asking the time of day, Luca danced on over
to his own subject change. “Dinner will be
ready in twenty minutes. Come, have a bit of
wine with me.” It wasn’t a question.

“But they’re just wolves—”
“No they are not. You are ‘just assuming’
again. White or red?”
“Red.” She couldn’t take her eyes off
them. “What are they?”
“Trouble. At least that one is,” he said,
and pointed to the one on the right.
“The male?”
Luca’s wicked eyebrow went up, and
Fanchon Marie felt the corner of her lips
twitch. She shrugged. “I checked.”

47/360

“Right. At any rate, the decision has

been made to move the wedding forward. It
is simply not safe for you anymore.” The look
she shot him must have worked. “Perhaps
something a bit stronger than wine,” he
suggested.

“We who?” She didn’t make any de-

cisions about anything. “No, Mr. Rom Baro,
we will not be moving the wedding forward!”

In the same soft and condensing voice

he’d used most of the night, he simply said,
“That is not an acceptable answer, Fanchon
Marie.” He paused only to bring her wine but
didn’t retreat. “We’ve discussed why this has
to happen. There is no point in rehashing the
same argument a thousand times over. This
is what our people do. It just is. But if you let
me, if you meet me half way, I can make life
good for you.”

He leaned in to prove it. Magic lips

again. Magic, take away my head and my
heart, lips. It killed her that he could make

48/360

something so simple feel this good. She’d
kissed plenty of other men before, but never
like this.

Luca’s tongue played in her mouth,

exploring and flicking every corner of it. A
heat seeking missile surged and retreated in
her opening. A thought flittered though of
returning the favor. Briefly. Honestly, she
was too selfish to care, and this felt too good.

Luca pulled back, but she rose with him,
urgent to keep her lips cemented on his.
She wasn’t enough.
“Marry me. Tonight.”
Ugh. The jackhole could ruin anything.
“I don’t think—”

“No, Fanchon Marie, do not pull away

from me.” His voice dipped low and husky
and carried a tinge of command to it. She
didn’t care for it. Much.

“Back off or I’ll walk out that door

right now.”

“No, you will not.”

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“Why is that? You don’t think I want

to go? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t
waltz out of here. Or are you somehow infer-
ring that you will not let me leave?”

“Both.”

A

wicked-looking

smile

passed over his face as he bit into his lower
lip. “Besides, you and I both know you would
have so much more fun if you stayed.”

“Ugh, this isn’t just about sex.”
“Then what is it about exactly? What

do you want? Choices?”

Choices. Only he could make a word

of free will sound dirty and vile.

“We don’t have that luxury, Fanchon

Marie. We marry, or there is war. We do not
marry, and there is war. So let us take what
we can. We take the power that has been
thrown at us and run with it. And sex? Lust?
Consider it a bonus and there is not a
damned thing wrong with that.”

Luca crashed his lips into hers again,

but that was merely the first wave of his

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assault. The whole weight of his well-
muscled body came upon her as he forced
her backwards against the wall. “Don’t fight
me. You want this. And so do I.” Fanchon
Marie felt him rotate his hips, grinding into
her through the fabric of her dress. She
fought back a whimper as he nipped at her
ear. “Can’t you feel how I want you?”

Expert hands raised the hem of her
dress when the grinding continued. She
fought back the urge to melt in his
hands.
“Mmm...open your legs, sweetie.”
Ah hell, why the fuck not?
“Good girl, that’s it. A little more now.”

Unable to speak, she did what he said

and felt her panties brushed aside as one,
two…oh god, three fingers found their way
inside her.

A soft knock severed the mood. “Sir?”
“Do NOT open that door, Sophie!”

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Sophie, whoever she was, gave Fanchon
Marie enough time to pull her mind
back together. “Move, Luca!”
“No.” And to the mysterious Sophie:
“Have dinner brought up here.”
Fanchon Marie screamed for her un-
knowing savior. “Wait! Sophie, we’ll be
out in a minute.”
“Sir, is that agreeable to you?”
Traitorous bitch. Fanchon Marie pushed
against Luca and scrambled away crab-
like, on heels and palms.

“What exactly, my dear, is the differ-

ence between now and twenty seconds ago?”
Luca’s low words slithered out past his
gleaming fingers. “Delicious.”

“A moment of clarity. We’ll be right out,
Sophie!”
“Fanchon Marie!”
“I lost my head, now it’s back.”
“Maybe you should lose it again.”
“Excuse me?”

52/360

Oh no. She’d jumped to her feet just

as Luca’s face brightened with that wicked
grin of his. She pulled back as he opened his
mouth for what she thought was another
kiss. But no. And the moment she figured
out his intent, it was too late. He’d already
started.

“Exsisto vestri verus ego.” The room

hummed like the wings of a vibrating bird in
the wake of it. The sound was soft, non-
threatening and died an instant later.

“Did you just curse me? What did you

do? Tell me, you sorry SOB. What did you do
to me? Ah, hell.” Hot lust ran though her
body. Every raw nerve ending screamed to
be touched. “Luca-”

“Oh, a little hex to remind you of your

true self. That’s all.”

“My true–” She tried to get out more,

but instead found the most womanly part of
her body aching and wet with the urge to
grind against him again.

53/360

“You should thank me, dear future wife.
I have just released you from your self-
imposed prison of inhibitions.”
Fanchon Marie struggled against herself
and could only hope that the pleasure
infused pain would lessen.
“Please, Luca.”
“Please, what?”
“Help me. Touch me.”
Luca tried to turn away. If his face was
any indication, he looked to be in his
own little hell. Good.
“I am sorry, love, but it hardly seems re-
spectable to take advantage of the
situation.”
“Bastard. I need....”
“Dinner.”
“I can’t go like this!”
“You have to. Poor Sophie will be quite
upset if we do not show up as promised.
What kind of a man do you think I am?”
****

54/360

Dinner was equally miserable for

Luca. He hadn’t thought this out at all. What
he’d done to her in anger, punished them
both. Watching her writhe and moan under
her breath left him irritated, hard and
aching.

Every five minutes, she grasped the

edges of her chair, dropped her chin to her
chest and moaned into her shoulder. She was
so primed that he could smell her from the
far end of the room where she sat, and her
scent overtook all of the savory foods on the
oak table before him. Stupid hex.

Food. He needed to concentrate on

food. Next, the room. The rose windows
flooded the golden room with a million
shades of amber. The elaborate, hand-
chiseled arches. He tried to focus on the rug
imported from Romania, the glassware, the
doors, the damned statue of the fallen
Etruscan, anything but her.

55/360

Ten seconds later, another round of

groans escaped her. He looked up in time see
her head twist back and forth as she moaned
into her crook of her arm, and he experi-
enced a new and very personal hell on earth.
Breathless words clawed their way out of his
throat. “I am sorry, Fanchon Marie. Really,
terribly, sorry. I mean it this time.” And all
the countless thousands of times I’ve said it
tonight.

“I,

I’m...ahhhhhhhh....going

to...ugh...kill...you.”

Luca watched as another orgasm

seized her body and fought to keep his own
at bay. “Yeah.” He nodded and readjusted his
pants for the hundredth time. “Good and I’d
deserve it. My God, at the moment, I am
praying of for it.”

56/360

Chapter Five

Fanchon Marie moaned into her pil-

low as the sun came up. Like everything else
in this house, included her groom to be, it
was big and oversized. She nuzzled deeper
into it. Eiderdown, maybe? She didn’t know
and was too preoccupied to think more on it.
Not until three in the morning did the hex
wear off, and she was dead tired. She would
have stayed in bed all day, but one powerful
motivation forced her to peek from under the
covers.

Revenge.
Full on, glorious, eat this, how you

like now, revenge.

Moving quietly and with a bit of ma-

gic, Fanchon Marie slid out the house un-
detected by the omnipresent Sophie, occu-
pied with dusting the eagles in the hallway.

Fanchon Marie rolled her eyes. Her

dear savior Sophie revealed her true nature:

a cantankerous old woman with ice in her
veins for anyone who wasn’t her beloved
Luca. She’d made it clear during the dinner
service how much she disapproved of Fan-
chon Marie’s “licentious behavior.” The vi-
cious pit viper slammed every plate presen-
ted to Fanchon Marie so hard the food
moved and at least two glasses of wine
missed their mark with droplets landing in
her lap. This morning, Fanchon Marie
wanted to avoid her at all costs.

She made her way to the garden and

hoped she’d find what she needed to accom-
plish two goals. First, the gris gris, then the
payback.

She darted around inspecting small

objects – picking and choosing which among
them to shove in her pocket. A small stone
from this side of a pond, a petal from a newly
opened flower from the other, dropped
feathers, and a few wild weeds. Making a gris
gris was one of the first things little Vodou

58/360

girls learned. It was spiritual protection and
one of the few forms of magic relegated
solely to the female magical sphere. Men
could use them fine enough, but they could
never make them. And no one could make
‘em as good as she could.

She ran back into the house but

slowed down at the door to tiptoe around
Sophie. Her plan was to give the impression
that she’d just come downstairs. “Good
Morning!”

“Hrumph.”
Granted, she hadn’t made the best

first impression. Writhing around like a
horny college freshman at dinner wasn’t an
ideal greeting, but that was hardly her fault.

Old Evil Bones needed to remember

her place. She was, after all, just the maid.
“Is there something the matter? Luca said
you’d bring breakfast. You were so much
later than he’d mentioned you’d be, so I
came down to forage for myself.”

59/360

“Go on back. Tell the Rom Baro that

I’ll bring his morning coffee up shortly. Food
will follow in a moment.” Evil Bones turned
to look her up and down. “Yours, too, I
suppose.”

Umm, no. Not what she needed for

the plan to work. “That’s not necessary,
Sophie. I’ll go to the kitchen and make us a
pot. Save yourself a trip. Won’t take but a
minute for me to grab a cup.” And some oils
and herbs. “And wait for Luca to come down
to his study.”

Evil Bones slammed down the silver

she polished. “The Prince indicated that you
had a restless night, and that you’d want and
need extra care today.

Crap. “That’s just the man in him be-

ing overprotective. Go on back to work, I’ll
take the coffee. We will expect breakfast in
another hour or so. Finish your dusting.”

60/360

Rather than risk any offers of service,

Fanchon Marie pivoted on her heels to make
a beeline for the kitchen.

“Cups? Cups? Cups? Cups? Ahhh.”

Fanchon Marie took hold of the largest she
could find. She slammed it down on the
counter and poured in to it the herbs of the
gris gris. Magic, at the end of the day, was
magic. True differences existed mainly in
how you accessed it. In short, she had little
trouble finding the necessary herbs in the
household of a Rom Baro. She mixed them
all together with a tiny swirl and a whispered
word.

Passing Sophie on the way out again,

she plastered what she hoped to be an obvi-
ously less than sincere smile on her face be-
fore she eased into library. May the hatred be
mutual and omnipresent.

Sophie returned her disingenuous

smile. “You have a package, ma’am.” The

61/360

item in question lay carelessly tossed in the
far corner of the atrium.

Mail for her? Here? No one knew

where she was. More than that, anyone who
did know her knew she’d rather eat pig shit
than stay with him. At least that had been
the case....

“Who is it from?
“How should I know?” came the snarky
reply.
“By reading the return address.” You
stupid woman. She kept that last bit to
herself in hopes of ending the conversa-
tion quickly.
“Well, I would if one had been written
in. It may well be on the inside. We
Roma prize our privacy.”
Fanchon Marie couldn’t ignore the dig
of exclusion in her sentence. It hurt, but
she tried not to dwell on it.

“Send it upstairs, I’ll pick it up later.”

Probably another wedding gift. Perhaps from

62/360

someone on his side of the things. She dis-
missed it and continued on to the library.

She crept up the stairs and passed

Stephan, one of Luca’s henchmen, on the
ledge. A picture of serenity, Fanchon Marie
nodded as he opened the door for her. She
kept her gait slow and even, taking her time
to cross the empty room. Patient, she waited
while Stephan also took his time in closing
the behind her. His eyes stayed trained on
her until the very last moment. She lowered
the serving tray down and, bit by bit, tiptoed
back to the door to slide the lock into place.
She

prayed

that

no

one

heard

the

mechanism.

Fanchon Marie spread out the in-

gredients from the kitchen and the outdoor
garden before her. Two piles grew: one for
her and another for him. Security and
assault.

First, a bit of gris gris protection. Her

eyes darted around before landing on the

63/360

heavy gold and blue curtains. Louis the XIV
would have approved. After she ripped a
piece of cloth from the bottom of a panel
from the farthest window, Fanchon Marie
pranced back to her makeshift mixing sta-
tion. She added more to the cup from the kit-
chen, tossed in her own chewed off nails, a
few of the stones from the pond, a lock of her
hair, and a scrawled sheet of paper with her
grandmother’s name on it.

She tied the fabric and its contents up

together with one shoelace and used the oth-
er to hold it around her neck. “Done,” she
said and squealed at her own brilliance. The
perfect gris gris to help her avoid future
hexes.

Next up? The big payback.
Humming James Brown’s tune of the

same name, Fanchon Marie set about the
task of creating a derivative of one of the
most dangerous potions in the city: the lust
potion. She mixed the rest of her pilfered

64/360

ingredients and prayed for forgiveness from
the spirits of the grandmothers – yeah, both
of them.

This potion had been known to drive

men and women insane. The only thing
worse than the lust concoction, was the love
potion itself, but even she wasn’t brave
enough to go that far. Still, she did have a
rather powerful need for him to experience
the...suffering...she lived through last night.
As far as lust potions went, it was fairly
weak. Probably. She’d never actually made
one before, but it didn’t have to be perfect.
She didn’t know if she could handle a truly
lusty Luca. Plus, she couldn’t exactly count
on her resolve being as strong as his was last
night.

Fanchon Marie considered aborting

her mission, but only for a second. She
weighed the possibility that she was doing
something reckless against a momentary
feeling of triumph and decided to go along

65/360

with it anyway. Game on. To hell with the
consequences.

She opened up the door and let her

voice go as far as it would reach. “Sophie
dear, please bring more sugar for Luca’s cof-
fee. I’ll keep his warm with a little heating
spell.” With a little extra lust on the side, she
thought.

He didn’t keep her waiting. Moments

later, the man of the house strolled into the
room wearing black pajama bottoms and
nothing else. She appreciated the view.

“Morning, Luca. Coffee?”
“Yes, grazie. Sophie told me you pre-

pared it personally. I am very appreciative.”

It didn’t look like it. The features on

face came to life. A twitching nose and
squinting at the corners of his eyes. Crap,
had she been busted?

No sense going back. She had to play

this thing through. Fanchon Marie watched
over the edge of her own container of coffee

66/360

as he again sniffed the contents of his and
took a large swig. “Delicious and very neces-
sary this morning.” He raised his cup to-
wards her in salute. “I was in the weight
room downstairs when I heard you summon
Sophie. Screeching, beckoning – you do it
well.”

She let the dig slip. Her thoughts were

occupied with potions, revenge, and bulging
muscles dripping with sweat.

“The hex.” another sip. “I put on you

last night.” Another sip. “Was meant to make
you understand that we had something in
the absence of your artificial constraints.”

“Artificial?” Fanchon Marie didn’t try

to stop her voice from rising. “So you want to
build a marriage on lust? That’s just fine for
you?”

“Plenty have been built on a lot less,
Fanchon Marie.”
“Maybe, but this isn’t the 1600s.”
“I know.”

67/360

“It’s an archaic system.” Fanchon Marie
turned around to stare out the windows
over the garden. “And...and it’s not fair.”
She felt Luca come up behind her and
circle her waist. “I know that, too. But
let’s build on what we do have.”

He pressed exactly what he did have

right into the small of her back. She felt it
stir to life, like an angry serpent seeking his
prey. Uh-oh.

Fanchon Marie tried to escape his

grasp, but he somehow flipped her around so
they stood face to face. Rather, he stood, be-
cause in the next moment, he’d lifted her up,
pressed her back against the window, with
her legs under his vise-like arms and around
his waist.

“Luca, I—”
Hot lips pressed against hers, and she

lost her senses. She’d done a horrible thing,
should feel terrible about it, but she couldn’t
think beyond the teeth that nibbled at her

68/360

bottom lip, or the hands that rubbed heated
little suns of fire in her arched thighs. Damn
him. Damn her.

“See what you make me do, Fanchon
Marie?”
Damn guilt.
This wasn’t him. Well, it could be. It
would be. But not right now, now this
was....

A weak and shattered voice crawled

from her throat in shame. “Luca, stop.”
Though, she didn’t sound like she really
meant it. He must have thought the same
thing since, instead of pulling away, he
raised her higher while his mouth traveled
lower, opening the top buttons of her paja-
mas with his teeth.

“Please, Luca, stop. You don’t want to

do this.”

Another button.
Luca’s words were muffled. Seems he

didn’t see much reason to separate his

69/360

mouth from her skin. “This is exactly what I
want to do.”

“I poisoned you.” Lord, it hurt her to

say it. She waited for his famed Roma wrath,
for his hatred, his disappointment...his hurt.

“No, you did not. Take you pants off

and shut up.”

She didn’t, however, expect that. Poor

thing. He didn’t understand or couldn’t ac-
cept what she’d done to him. Fanchon Marie
felt him lower her a bit to take her nipple in-
to his mouth. It should have been wonderful,
but instead of exciting her (much), it caused
tears to well up in her dark eyes. What he’d
done last night had been horrible, but he had
only revealed her true desires, not created
new ones as she’d done to him.

Luca’s delicious torture stopped. “Are

you, are you crying? Oh no, baby. Fanchon
Marie, stop those tears. That’s enough of
that.” She should be grateful, but couldn’t.

70/360

The big idiot tried to comfort her. She bowed
her head, unable to face him.

She started to apologize. Then she felt

it coming. His rage. Luca’s whole body shook
with it, and it made hers to vibrate as well.
Slowly her neck rose up, then her eyes. He
was....

Laughing?
Apparently unable to hold back any

longer, the damned man doubled over in de-
light. One hand grasped his stomach, while
the other held her a little too tightly around
the wrist.

“Luca?”
“My little, foolish Vodou imp. You

cannot poison or hex a Romani with items
from his own lands and household. A hex,
maybe. But poison? No, love. I am in the
ground. I am the earth and the foundation of
this place. Do you not think I would have put
protections to prevent something like this
from happening?”

71/360

Damn.
The arm that once held his stomach

eased up her side until his hand reached her
face. “Your little potion aside, I have enough
powerful items in my fields to lay waste to
the city, let alone myself. Most Roma do the
same. We all lay down similar precautions as
soon as we arrive to a new home.” Getting
mildly serious, his smile wavered the tiniest
bit. “Having said that, we need to set down a
few ground rules.”

Luca slunk into her then the weight of

his full body reduced her to nothing. “First,
this gris gris. You never take it off. I presume
you made it here?” Luca’s tongue dragged
across her neck while he awaited her
response.

“Mmhhh.”
“Good. Nothing in there will harm me,

but it may help protect you from my en-
emies.” Fanchon Marie tried to concentrate
on his words, but he teased a nipple with this

72/360

thumb and index finger. He tugged and
rolled the little bud, nearly to the point of
pain. A wonderful and exquisite torture.

“We will strengthen it later today. Se-

cond rule, no more hexes or potions between
us. Understood?”

All she could do was nod as he contin-

ued his ministrations. That seemed to be fair
enough. “We have established that you de-
sire me, and you know I want you, so no
more use in pretending anything else. I will
not stand for it.”

Fanchon Marie mumbled her acquies-

cence as Luca started grinding his penis
though her flimsy jersey knit bottoms. “And
we are getting married. Our families depend
on this and so does this city. We are prevent-
ing a war by doing it, and we will fight anoth-
er one, together, if we need to.”

“Luca—”

73/360

“Shhh.... We will discuss the terms later.
Now, the situation necessitates we have
a little communion.”
Wait. What?

“Communion. A promise and a gift

from heaven.” Luca knelled down and slowly
pulled down her panties. “There’s nothing
more perfect than this.”

Oh, the unholy bastard. Wrong,

wrong, wrong. Not this, called that, in an old
church? Wrong. But Fanchon Marie released
all the tension from her body as he wor-
shipped her. They’d go to hell together for
this one. She enjoyed every sacred move.
There was nothing fast or aggressive about
his motions. He took his time, and let his
tongue explore every fold of her core. He
kissed,

lapped,

and

sucked

on

each

moistened inch of flesh. Never had a ticket
and hand-basket to hell been more worth it.

****

74/360

It was killing him. The sight, the smell

and, oh god, the taste. Each lap or flick of his
tongue caused an explosion of delight. Her
body carried a similar essence to young
honey: sweet, but with a sharp tang. He
loved it. Luca knew he’d die a happy man if
he could exist off a diet of this and whiskey.
Perhaps this with whiskey.

“Don’t move.” Luca jetted towards his

console and returned holding a crystal de-
canter. “A forty-five-year-old single malt
whiskey. Worth at least a couple hundred
thousand dollars.” Luca dropped to his
knees, opened the container, and poured his
favorite drink into his brand new favorite
drinking glass.

“Luca, don’t!”
His slurping shut her up. Luca’s mind

raced -- the heady mixture of sweet and
tangy had him struggling to keep control.
Unable to wait any longer, well, able but not
really inclined to, Luca dragged his woman

75/360

down to the floor. They straddled each other,
face to face. Fanchon Marie gasped as he
entered her, nails digging into his back for
the duration of the ride. It was a long one.

****

Hours later Fanchon Marie rested,

curled up in one of Luca’s oversized robes on
his oversized patio, sipping an oversized
glass of well-aged whiskey under the midday
sun. Why the hell not?

Luca lounged on the edge of the

settee, skin touching hers. Well-manicured
fingers strummed his guitar. He didn’t have
on a stitch of clothes and sat only with a tow-
el from this morning’s shower beneath him.
Vanity was a beautiful thing. Without warn-
ing, he cut off in mid-tune, slapping his full
hand against all the strings. “Fanchon Marie,
starting now, it is only me. I will kill anyone
else who touches you.”

“Word. Ditto.”

76/360

A toothy smile crossed his lips before

he turned around and played again.
“Gregorio and the boys have been at your
apartment, trying to cleanse the place. They
have found the bit of Breznik there. He left a
tuft of his own hair as a conduit. At least, we
presume it is his. I must confirm it when I
get there, but having only that small piece –
well, your magic will be stronger than mine
in the cleansing of it.”

It would. What elements of magic the

Roma lacked, her bloodlines carried well.
The reverse was equally true. What couldn’t
they do together, she wondered. This little
thing? No problem.

“I can do it. We’ll need a butchered

pig though.”

Fanchon Marie thought she heard

him curse something under his breath about
dirty Vodou magic, but like so many things
recently, she let it slide. His attentions this

77/360

morning earned him a complete pass for at
least a twenty-four hour time period.

“Fine, I will speak with Gregorio. You

go get in the shower. I shall join you in a
minute.” Luca rose to leave, but she had to
stop him.

“Wait. About our marriage—”
He gave her the Am I The Only Adult

Here Look again. “Fanchon Marie—”

“I know, but hear me out. It’s happen-

ing, and yes, you’re right. This, whatever this
is, is good, and I want to keep it that way.
So...so don’t ask for more than I can give.”
Don’t ask me to love you. Though unsaid, the
sentiment hung like a noose around both
their necks.

His usually expressive face went

black. Hooded eyes gave nothing away when
he nodded in response. Another grunt and
he headed out into the hallway.

Fanchon Marie jolted to the shower.

No way she wanted to give him time to join

78/360

her at that awkward exchange. Less than ten
minutes passed before she started to towel
off and was interrupted by Luca.

The arrogant Rom Baro said nothing as
he removed the towel, tossed her over
his shoulder, and marched them back
into the shower.
“Hey!”
“Stop screaming so I can really give you
something to scream about.”
He did...and she enjoyed every freaking
minute of it.

79/360

Chapter Six

“Maybe we should go to my parents

for help.”

Though this car ride has been much

more pleasant than the first, this wasn’t the
conversation he’d intended on having. “We
will not be doing that. Shall I let them and
the Morlena Clan think I cannot protect you?
No. I have a handle on this.” Luca paused as
he pulled into her driveway. “For now, we
will shoulder up your personal protection
and—”

“So I can stay in my own home?”
Why did she have to sound so damned

hopeful about it? “I am having a separate
bedroom set up for you in our home.
However, you should know that I have every
intention—”

“Yeah, I know what your intentions

are,” Fanchon Marie said, looking every bit
the petulant child. “Let’s just go.”

Walking through the front door, Luca

felt possessiveness take over his...well...his
everything. The spiritual cleaning crew he’d
commanded over earlier was all male
threats. The gazes of his friends and cousins
out here cleaning her property lingered a bit
too long for his tastes.

Luca wrapped his arms around her

shoulders. “Stephan, Nikolas, may I formally
introduce you to my future wife, Fanchon
Marie?”

He’d known these boys since they’d

been born. Knew their personal romantic
conquests and frequently shared laugh over
their women and sometimes the women
themselves. But not this one. Feeling every
bit the teenager, Luca grabbed Fanchon Mar-
ie by both shoulders and swooped in for a
claim staking kiss.

“Neanderthal much?”

81/360

So Fanchon Marie hadn’t appreciated

the little display, but he sure felt better hav-
ing done it.

“Before you club me over the head

and drag me back to the cave, I have rituals
that must be performed. You can come if
you.” Fanchon Marie paused before adding,
a little too dramatically. “Actually, why don’t
you stay here with the rest of the little boys.”

“No. If you think I intend to leave you

alone—”

She didn’t let him finish. “Now, is that

because you worry for my safety or because
you want to keep running around playing
Captain Caveman?”

“Both. The house is better. You are no

longer being directly watched, but Breznik
had so tightly bound himself into this place
that it’ll take more time than we initially
thought to purify it. And before you ask, yes I
knew earlier, but hoped to delay the inevit-
able fight. As for the ‘Captain Caveman’ part,

82/360

without exactly catching the cultural refer-
ence, I simply say that I am a man, you are
my woman and that is what we do.”

Fanchon Marie shot a dismissive hand

in the air. “Whatever. She muttered about
choosing battles before speaking again. “I’ll
go gather the rest of my supplies while you
get the pig. Meet me out back in ten
minutes.”

He was there in three. He followed

her around, keeping enough distance to let
her work, but close enough to pounce if
needed. Still, this bit was her show from be-
ginning to end. Roma and Vodou magic were
worlds apart, and he saw no point in inter-
ceding and possibly screwing it up.

He watched Fanchon Marie put down

the bag she carried and haul logs before stok-
ing a fire that somehow burned a terrible
shade of neon green infused with florescent
orange.

“I need his hair.”

83/360

Luca handed over the bundle and pre-

pared himself to enjoy the show. No matter
how often he had seen magic or how many
types he’d viewed over the years, watching
masterful work of this nature still have him a
thrill. Giving her an even broader berth,
Luca kept his cool as she hummed a low song
that caused the flames to take humanoid
shapes. His woman was clearly one of the
great ones. Her ancestors would have smiled
to see it. The confidence she exuded only
made Luca’s insides tighten all the more in
pride. He found it difficult to exactly make
out the words of her New Orleans version of
French, but he caught enough to get the gist.
Someone done her wrong and those figures,
whatever they were, planned to help her.

Both parties satisfied by the conversa-

tion, Fanchon Marie took Breznik’s hair and
divided it into three equal pieces. The first
part she spat on and buried and the second
portion, she handed back to Luca.

84/360

“Throw it out the window when we drive
down the highway.”
The third portion was cast into the fire,
much to the delight of the creatures
inside.
“This will weaken him, Luca. If nothing
else, I’ve brought you some more time.”
“That’s my girl.”

Fanchon Marie looked over her

shoulder to toss him a smile before continu-
ing her work. Next, she took a long stick of
wood, still burning at one end. She flipped it
over, fire side up, then dropped to her knees.
Inch by inch she crawled until she created a
nearly complete circle around the bonfire.

She called out to him again. “I need

you to bring me that pig now. Don’t break
the circle and only come to the edge. I’ll meet
you at the opening.”

She would never carry it on her own.

“It is too heavy for you, Cara.”

85/360

Shocked, though he shouldn’t be,

Luca’s spirit again swelled with satisfaction.
His little Fanchon Marie dragged the dead
beast, weighing nearly as much if not more
than she did, right to the fire. She threw her
whole back into it the movement, and she
jerked the animal over the blaze. Luca
smiled. He would enjoy helping sooth her
tired muscles later tonight. Thankful for the
high fence that protected their actions, Luca
leaned against the side of the house as the
smell of cooked pork wafted through the
cloudy, murky air. He hoped the rain would
hold off a bit longer.

The minutes ticked away. Fanchon

Marie took out two strips of leather and a
dagger from her bag of tricks. With a single
movement, she separated the pig’s tail from
the rest of its body. She gathered all the
bristles and tied them into two separate
bundles. One set she added to the gris gris

86/360

around her neck. The other she tossed to
Luca.

“Keep this in your pocket.”
“Worried about me, Fanchon Marie?”
“Tragically, yes. This will protect you

against any Vodou spells. Not sure about
Roma magic, but I figure it can’t hurt.” She
rubbed her hands on her long, brightly-
colored skirt. “I’m nearly done here.”

“Take your time, I have nothing–”

Luca never got the chance to finish his sen-
tence. Something happened, and it took him
awhile to figure out just what. When he did,
he let the curses fly. A porcelain fist had con-
nected with the right side of his face. That’s
what knocked him back several steps.

“I don’t know that the hell you fools

are doing, but knock it off.”

****
Fanchon Marie jumped at the sound

of another voice then again at the sight of the
man who it belonged to. Luca didn’t look

87/360

happy to see him. A six foot two blond god
lounged in her backyard. In terms of looks,
he sure did give Luca a run for his money. If
you went for that, dashing, Nordic, I’ve
swooped down out of Valhalla sort of thing.

The stranger wasn’t alone. Beside

him, blending into the vegetation was a wo-
man smaller than Fanchon Marie. Her face
was pleasant but guarded. The cracking of
flesh

and

bone

interrupted

her

investigations.

Luca, and He Who Shall Be Called

“Thor,” tumbled on the ground. Neither of
the hulking men held back any punches.
They looked like men with a single purpose:
to pound each other’s brains into the ground.
They did a fair job of it, too. Luca gave as
good as he got, but every punch that landed
on his face also landed in the pit of Fanchon
Marie’s stomach.

Who were these two? She couldn’t

make out what they were or where they came

88/360

from. Thor Man didn’t look like any of the
Morlena she’d seen over the years and cer-
tainly not the wavy-haired little thing next to
him, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t about
to let anyone mess with her man. She closed
her eyes to concentrate on the power in the
land. Absorbing it. Willing it to come to her.

With nanoseconds to spare before the

curse passed her lips, the little one spoke to
the rolling ball of testosterone in her back-
yard. “Male stupidity aside, this is about to
get ugly. Luca, your mate looks ready to at-
tack Sean, and I can’t let that happen. At the
same time, I kinda have a feeling you’re
gonna be pissed if I intercede. What we have,
boys, is a conundrum. Unless you both knock
it off, the situation will continue to deterior-
ate until we are forced to leave. And we will.
We’ll leave with me taking my homemade
New England clam chowder that I know you
love so much. Don’t make me have labored
over the stove for you, Luca, for nothing.”

89/360

The bitch had the nerve to actually

produce the clam chowder in a tiffin from
behind her back. “I also made some your fa-
vorite dessert, tiramisu,” she said.

Stop.
Once again, Fanchon Marie wished

for a reality pause button. She spoke, unable
to hold back any longer. “Wait, who the hell
are you? Why is that one trying to kill him?
What are you accusing us of?” And why the
hell are you making Luca homemade meals?

Bloody, but rising, Luca finally spoke.

“Callie, how nice to see you again.” The wo-
man nodded. “Wish I could say the same,
Sean.”

The blond, Sean, looked at Luca and

ignored the greeting, but did return to his
earlier question. “I’ll repeat myself for your
thick Romani skull. Whatever you’re doing,
stop it. Now. For the record, that’s a threat.”

Luca stepped forward to shield Fan-

chon Marie. “Watch it, dog.”

90/360

Sean laughed outright. Until this very

second, he hadn’t seemed capable. Fanchon
Marie’s head swung over to the right. The
little one grinned, maintaining the same look
of serenity she’d had while the men were rip-
ping each other apart.

“You’re one to talk Luca. Last chance,

tell me—”

“No, you tell me.” Luca put his finger

in the center of Sean’s chest, causing them
both to draw in sharply. The promise of an-
other fight appeared. “What are you talking
about?” Fanchon Marie slid her hand into
his at the sound his rising voice, hoping to
calm him down.

Sean sniffed the air then turned to

Callie who did the same. Though she
couldn’t make out what was being shared,
the two were communicating. It didn’t take a
genius or even a long acquaintanceship with
these two to realize they had a connection,
an easiness beyond the kind of old lovers or

91/360

friends. They spoke to each other in an oral
shorthand supplemented with a mixture of
guttural noises, gestures, and looks.

Finally, they each turned back to face

Fanchon Marie and Luca. “Someone’s mess-
ing with the magic. Even you ought to be
able to smell it. The air is heavy and thick
with something bad. I wouldn’t care, but it
makes Callie uncomfortable.”

Fanchon Marie finally found the nerve
to speak to Sean. “And?”
The Norwegian shot her and evil look
then leaned in.
“Watch it, Sean.”
Sean didn’t address Luca’s latest com-
ment. Instead he said, “And I don’t like
that.”

Fanchon Marie shivered. She couldn’t

help it. Thor scared the crap out of her, and
she felt nothing but relief when he turned
away from her and back to Luca. “Well if it’s
not you, then we need to talk. The cemeteries

92/360

reek more than usual, which means the dead
are restless. They’re getting riled up. So-
mething or someone is messing with them.
Mostly, I can deal and happily kill any ma-
gical creature you put in front of me, but I’m
not inclined to tussle with ghosts and
spirits.”

“Nor me. Stronzo!” Luca raked his

hands though his hair. “I think I have an idea
of who is responsible. I didn’t know it’d got-
ten so bad that those not Roma or Vodou
could notice.”

“Well?” The Sean man...creature...demi-
god...thing, wore the cloak of impatience
well.
“Well what?” Luca looked him up and
down. “Are you intending to help or just
wasting my time?”
The Viking shrugged.
“You either help or leave town. Got it? I
don’t want your kind around here.”
“Our kind. Short version.”

93/360

Fanchon Marie’s head jerked at that.
“Our kind,” what had that meant? The
situation, however, didn’t give her any
time to ask.
“They are piss poor and power hungry.”
“Long version,” Callie requested.

Luca rolled a fist into his open hand.

“We think Breznik and the Morlena Clan are
behind it. They have been in the area since
before the Louisiana Purchase but had been
pushed to the back country by the Vodou
families. Their blood is weak, and their ma-
gic isn’t as strong as ours, but they have been
screaming for their own place in the city.
Their poverty has only increased over the
generations and want the money that comes
along with the title. I hoped the banks would
rid of them of their seat long before I did.
Anyway, the fact that I am about to marry in-
to the region’s most powerful Vodou family
has sent them over the edge. They claim I am
sullying the Roma bloodline.”

94/360

“You know a thing or two about diluted
blood, dontcha, Mutt?”
“My Roma blood is a strong as—”
“Look, I get it. I do,” he said with a wave
of his hand.
“Are you going to help or not?”
“Sean, we can help.” The little one spoke
but was dismissed by a pale hand.
“Not help,” the blond corrected.

“Then get out of my town and don’t

come back. I have a lot of shit to take out
right now, and I’d hate to see you caught in
the crossfire.” Luca strolled right past Sean
to grab Callie’s hand. “You, of course, are al-
ways welcome in my home. Stay for dinner.
Sean can pick you up later tonight.”

The trollop leaned in to kiss Luca.

Well, it was a chaste peck...on the cheek, but
Fanchon Marie didn’t like it. She felt white
hot rage flood into her fingertips. The urge to
have that rage present itself as flying

95/360

projectiles of energy nearly overcame her. It
didn’t go unnoticed.

“Whew! I’m catching a whiff of

something strong. Jealousy, I think. Hmmm,
I can’t tell whose is worse, hers or Sean’s!
Relax, babe,” she said to Fanchon Marie.
“My heart does not belong to our sweet
Prince Luca. This tub of food does. Sean is
really giving me the stink eye, so I’d better
leave.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be back when the

gypsies have finished playing king of the hill.
If we’re lucky, this one will be riding his
vardo off into the sunset. May the best man
win.”

Fanchon Marie watched them leave as

silently as they’d entered. They merely faded
away into the brush. “Luca, what are they?
They feel more than human, but I picked up
no real magic from them.”

“Werewolves. Shh, give them ten
minutes. They can hear for miles.”

96/360

Werewolves? They were rumored to be
everywhere, though she’d never met any
before.
They’d been back inside and had a drink
before feeling comfortable enough to
start speaking again.
“So those werewolves, can you trust
them?”

Luca poured himself another glass of

wine and joined her on the plush couch. “It is
more of an issue of can you avoid pissing
them off? They only trust each other. But to
address the unasked question, Sean will act
on his own if he believes Callie is threatened
or when she herself feels nervous. If Breznik
actions freak her out, all the better for us.”

Fanchon Marie felt herself being

pulled to Luca’s end of the couch. He posi-
tioned his mouth in the hollow under her
jaw. “Don’t you worry my sweet, Fanchon
Marie. I promise to protect you from the big,
bad wolf.”

97/360

“What about the mean, angry wannabe
king?”
“Mmhmm.” He rolled the m’s against
her throat.
“And who’ll keep me safe from the
Roma ruler? The big, bad Rom Baro?”

Luca lifted the shirt over her head.

“Oh my dear, it is my sad duty to inform you
that what a prince of the Roma wants, he
gets.” Fanchon Marie slid back into the cush-
ions, while Luca positioned a knee between
the apex of her legs. Then he rotated it.

Fanchon Marie prepared to lose her-

self to every sensation he promised to create
when a bellowing Gregorio called Luca’s
name from below.

“Don’t move. Five minutes. Do. Not.
Move.”
****
Note to self: Kill Gregorio. This had bet-
ter be good. The stairs creaked under his
pounding descent.

98/360

His cousins shuffled his feet. “Umm,
sorry.” At least he had the decency to
look repentant.
“Again.”

“Yes, again, but I would not have in-

terrupted if it wasn’t important. We thought
everything was about done, but then the boys
started catching something marimé – ex-
tremely unclean. Whatever Fanchon Marie
did riled them up. Your earlier worries were
correct. The Morlena are using the dead, the
mulló for power.”

“Sí, the wolves confirmed it.”
Gregorio sucked in so much air that

choked. “They were here? Sorry, we—”

Luca waved a hand. “It is fine,

Gregorio.” Any wolf, but especially those
two, was impossible to track with Roma and
most other, forms of magic. “Fanchon Marie
is coming back home with us. Still, double up
the protection around both houses. As for
the mulló spirits, call the ones around here

99/360

to Fanchon Marie’s bonfire, I must make
ready the patrin for death. If what the wolf
said is true, they are being forced to rise all
over city.”

Luca saw many restless nights in his

future. Only the Rom Baro could do a proper
soul settling patrin, and he got the impres-
sion that the undead planned on filling up
his already tight schedule. He didn’t have
much of a choice though. Without his words
of blessing and chants of lamentations, the
souls would never rest again. “Go get Fan-
chon Marie. I can put them to rest, but we
need someone who can speak to them prop-
erly. Move!”

While Gregorio took off, Luca collec-

ted the items needed to put the poor bas-
tards back to sleep. The Fata should not have
to experience this second life. Especially, not
this close to Beltane.

“Beltane.” He hated to even say the

word. It was the one month that all Roma

100/360

feared, though humans would too, if they
really understood it. Modern calendars had it
listed as the month of May, but for those in
the know, it was the month when the veil
between the world of the living and the do-
main of the dead could be easily lifted, even
by novices. Beltane was one of four times
during the year when every would-be witch
and hack removed Ouija boards and spell
books from the shops. Not worth the risk.
Mirrors were avoided and smarter barkeeps
halted sales of Bloody Marys for thirty-one
days. No one wanted to risk bringing her
around.

He bent over and collected the neces-

sary pieces: gnarled branches, herbs, broken
stones, and a bird’s nest. Luca laid out all the
implements for the ritual as Fanchon Marie
and Gregorio arrived.

“Cara, come here. Do not remove

your hand from mine at any point in the pro-
cess. Gregorio, take the rest of the boys and

101/360

leave. You know how they get.” Raised mulló
had a nasty habit of trying to take over the
bodies of anyone unfortunate enough to be
nearby. The earlier they were returned, the
better it was for everyone. He looked down
as Fanchon Marie sent a quick elbow to his
ribs. “Maybe a quick refresher for me?”

Luca understood. Vodou dead came

back as zombies, stupid but mostly harmless.
These, not so much. “When mulló rise,
they’re mostly sad, wanting to go back to
sleep. They still have their old memories.
While they are weakened, they can be re-
strained and then controlled by the Roma
who called them. As time progresses though,
they become angry, dangerous, and demand-
ing of a new life.”

“Which is why Gregorio and the rest

have to leave.”

“Exactly. I can protect only a few of us

at a time.” Though, he didn’t much feel the
need to test out how many. “Only Breznik is

102/360

stupid enough to try this. Is he that big of a
fool to think he can control so many of them?
One or two perhaps, but more? And for an
extended amount of time? He must be more
delusional than even I thought.”

“Only one way to find out,” she said.

“Call ‘em over.”

One at a time, the shades drifted over

the moist grass. Probably out of disgust, they
kept a wide distance from each other. Their
sunken, drained eyes swiveled in dry sockets
to dart from Fanchon Marie’s face to Luca’s
and back again in confusion. Pitiful. They
were people once but now wasted to
nothingness -- thin skin stretched over bone.
In the absence of muscle, sometimes those
bones poked though flesh like white snow-
caps against a grey sky.

“I am Fanchon Marie, daughter of the

Beltremieux, and this is Nicolae Luca
Dobrega, the Rom Baro. We want to know
who has done this to you.”

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Spinning figures twisted and howled.

Luca’s face coiled at the sound but not Fan-
chon Marie’s. Their screeches would come
out as clear as the speech of anyone else. It
would take his ears awhile longer to settle in-
to their wailing speech patterns. When they
did, his felt the loss of ignorance. He would
have preferred it to this. They spoke all at
once a mixture of facts, please and nonsense.

“Army.”
“Release us!”
“Marguerite.”
“Pain.”
“Marimé”
“Morlena.”

“Luca, they confirmed that the Mor-

lena did this. I think Breznik trying to raise
an army. We have what we need, now help
them return.”

“Happily.”
Luca chanted his own magic words

and Fanchon Marie watched him save his

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people. As disgusted as the Roma were with
the dead, Luca still patiently guided them all
though the veil in the old tongue. He may not
have been able to clearly hear the full words
of their gratitude, but she must have, and it
brought tears to her eyes.

“Cara mia....”

“You’re

more

than...you’re

much

more....”
It hit him. She cried not only for the lost
souls, but for his.
“You’re...good,” she said.
“Fanchon Marie.”

Fingers outlined her jaw and lifted it

as he swooped in for a kiss. This one, differ-
ent the others before it. Kind. Soft. Loving.
Grateful.

“They are resting now. I hope this

time it will be forever. I fear we will have to
do this for many days, possibly weeks to
come. For now though, I want to take you
home. Relax with you. Be with you.”

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“Relax? How can you say that after—”
“Shhh, Cara mia.” He pulled her into

a warm embrace. “It’ll take some time before
we are both energized enough to help any
others. No, Fanchon Marie, do not interrupt,
do not fight me, do not question me, just re-
lax.” Luca swept her into his arms and car-
ried her into the home. He didn’t speak until
he’d laid her down in the lounger on the
patio and placed a glass of wine in her hand.
He didn’t join her. Not yet.

“Gregorio,” he said into a recently

produced cell phone. “I was right. Their ma-
gic is so worthless they are resorting to steal-
ing energy from the dead. I will need to make
the patrin for countless souls – prepare the
supplies. We will go to the major cemeteries
first.... I know...we have no choice. This has
to be done before Beltane begins. Otherwise,
the city will be overrun with the dead and the
Morlena.”

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107/360

Chapter Seven

Fanchon Marie woke up with a tight-

ening arm looped around her waist. No wait,
a gigantic, tightening arm. Geez, everything
about this man screamed huge. She allowed
her index finger to wander up and down its
length, marveling at the perfection of even
this one part of his body.

He must have felt like exploring, too,

though his caresses were a lot less innocent.
Luca’s tongue made fantastic swirls along the
back of her neck. He stopped himself every
few seconds to nip and suck the tender skin
there.

“Are you feeling better, Cara?”

She placed a chaste kiss on his forearm
in response.
“Good. Do you think you can get used to
waking up like this?”

If she was being honest with herself, she
could. Fine, another kiss on the arm for
Luca.

“Then know I will do whatever it takes

to make you happy. I will walk through hell
to protect you. I’ll bust my ass, as they say, to
keep you happy. I’ll bust yours, if you’re
kinky enough.”

She slapped his hand away but

couldn’t keep the, dare it be mentioned, joy
out of her voice. She was happy. In a jacked
up, forced marriage, dead walking the streets
sorta way.

Then she heard it, that deep sigh of his
that served as a preamble to bad news.
“What is it? Spit it out.”
“We need to move the wedding up to a
much earlier date.”
“How early?”
“Next week.”
“Luca!”

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“Quiet. Listen, now.” Luca gently

pulled her shoulder until she lay flat on her
back. His free hand traced the lines of her
torso. “If we wait until after Beltane as inten-
ded, it will be too late. The Morlena will have
too much power by then”

“But

our

guests,

the

cake,

everything—”

“I will give you one of the boys to use

as a personal bridal slave.” He must have
caught a look on her face. A perfectly arched
eyebrow rose along with a playful smirk and
Luca said, “I will give you Sophie. Use her in
any way you see fit.”

“Luca, please, I’ll need a few more

days than that.”

“Sorry. Too dangerous.”
“It’s my wedding! And even if it’s just

to you, I still deserve to have my day.” She
knew her Bitch Flag flew at full height, but
this WAS her day for crying out loud.
“Please, Luca, I’m begging you.”

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“I can give you until the first day of

Beltane, but no more. You have to keep this
silent though. Tell no one of what is
happening.”

Fanchon Marie’s face curled into a

confused look.

“We don’t need to give Breznik any in-

dication that we are moving forward with the
wedding

until

everything

is

finalized.

Besides, the amount of hell I’m going to re-
ceive for a wedding on the first of May is not
something I’m willing to deal with any earli-
er than I have to.”

“And our honeymoon?” She regretted

the words as soon as they left her mouth.
And for good reason. The conceited idiot –
her conceited idiot – looked like he fought
the urge to strut across the patio.

“So eager to get me in bed?”
“Not

necessarily,

Sir-Loves-A-Lot.

Just want to know what I can look forward
to.”

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Luca lowered himself to nuzzle her

chin with his stubble. “You can look forward
to a time of mind blowing sex. I am thinking
someplace cold. You see,” Luca looked
around playfully before breathing into her
ear. “I am a secret cuddle bug.”

The absurdness of this huge, power-

ful, Alpha, Royal Almighty Roma using such
a sophomoric, girly and wholly American
phrase, sent Fanchon Marie into a fit of
laughter. Luca followed suit. With tears in
his eyes, he admitted, “Maybe I could have
phrased that better.”

A still laughing Fanchon Marie agreed.
“Yeah, maybe. Cuddle Bug.”
“You mention that to no one.”
Close to recovering, she nodded. “Sure,
fine. Cudd—”
“FANCHON!” His mismatched eyes
flashed in not-yet-but-almost anger.
Good Lord, he’d said it, not her!

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“Moving along, my family has an es-

tate in the Alps – been in the family for cen-
turies. Ski in the morning, mess up the
sheets at night, sounds good, no?”

“No and Yes. Can’t ski.” She caught

his look of surprise. “Well look around you,
Luca. There’s no snow in New Orleans.”

Luca turned as if examining his sur-

roundings. “Well,” he said, drawing out the
word to an annoying length. “That is true. I
forgot. No airplanes either, huh? You Amer-
icans are more backwards than I thought.”

She softly punched him in the chest,

though his kisses softened the blows. They
deepened until she moaned loudly into his
mouth. Her sounds pushed him onwards.
Confident hands played around her waist
then sunk lower.

A throaty “Luca” gave him permission

to go farther. He pulled her up in a seated
position, but only for the two seconds it took
to climb behind her.

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He licked his fingers loudly, com-

menting on her taste, then plunged them
back into her.

“Lu-Luca…s-s-top.” Nimble fingers

probed and pulled, almost making her forget
that they were outside, on her balcony over-
looking the city. Almost. “Luca, please.
Anyone can see us!”

“Everyone can see us.” The cocky Rom

Baro removed his fingers to roughly rotate
his palm over the whole of her mound. She
squeezed her eyes shut and screamed her
pleasure into his shoulder. “And so what if
they do?” he asked. “This is my damned
city.”

Fanchon Marie had seconds to come

down from her orgasm before he carried her
to the railing, put his hands over hers, and
entered her from behind. If it hadn’t felt so
good, she would’ve been pissed.

****

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When Luca screamed his release, he

expected to hear Fanchon Marie’s, too. He
did, as well as the screams of someone else.
An out of breath Fanchon Marie froze
against him.

“Luca, I hear the dead. We have to

hurry.”

They righted each other’s clothes and

took the stairs two at a time, until they
reached the streets below. The shouting
stopped long ago and in a town known for it,
no one else seemed to have noticed the
sounds or cared.

Finding the source proved amazingly

easy. A wave of magic looped around the
block into the backyard of an apartment
complex. They followed the trail until it led
them to a third floor apartment. The door
swayed open with a rare southern breeze.

“Hello?” Luca stuck his head in first

and cursed at the sight before him. A mulló
crouched over the body of a young woman,

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draining her of energy and life. This one dis-
gusted him. Unlike the pitiful ones from a
few hours earlier, this one had come into his
own. It was less than dead. Desiccated and
yet oddly vibrant. Its grey skin had gone a
dusky purple and throbbed with a motion re-
miniscent of a heartbeat. For too long it had
been free. The desire to take over human life
had mutated it into something profane.

Fanchon Marie entered the room and

entwined her hand with his.

“I’ll talk to him and—”
“Too late for him, Cara mia. Once

mulló have tasted humans, there is no going
back. No return from it.” His end would be
different from the ones Luca sent to rest
earlier. This creature would know no peace.
Luca closed his eyes and prayed for the right
words. As the binding spell left his mouth, he
felt the creature close in on itself, dying a
horrible second death.

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“Take the ring off the woman’s fin-

ger.” A wedding ring.

While he still spun the spell, Fanchon

Marie placed the ring into Luca’s out-
stretched hand. The creature’s mass reduced
to smaller and smaller portions. Finally, the
alchemist in Luca sprang forward, sewing
dead flesh into the pure golden metal. In si-
lence, he placed the ring into his pocket.

“What about the girl?”
Luca sent up a word of thanks. In her

concern, Fanchon Marie still had enough
wisdom not to rush over to her. “It is the
same with your zombies. Once attacked, they
have very little time before turning.” He
knew what he had to do. “Wait outside. You
don’t need to see this.”

She didn’t leave. In fact, her hand

never left his. Together, they went into the
kitchen to seek out the largest knife they
could find.

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With slow, but determined feet, they

made their way to the living room where the
unconscious woman lay sprawled across the
floor. Her life would end at his hands, but
Luca put the blame squarely on Breznik’s
shoulders. He needed to be dealt with sooner
rather than later. For the moment though, he
had to focus on the young wife dying in front
of him, while his own intended bride stood
bravely by his side.

Luca stepped away from Fanchon

Marie and brought down the small butcher’s
knife at such an angle that the result was im-
mediate death and partial decapitation. A
second swing completed the unhappy task.
His past twenty-four hours had gone from
bad to perfect to complete shit. The thought
dizzied him, and he felt unbalanced.

“Cara, issue a spell removing any

forensic traces of us and then we can leave
this place. Next we will—”

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119/360

Chapter Eight

“Next we’ll what?” Fanchon Marie

turned her head in time to see Luca collapse
to the floor. Her throat lurched in panic.
“Luca? LUCA!” Fanchon Marie checked his
pulse – present, but thready. “Don’t do this
to me. Please. I need you to be okay.” She
yanked the gris gris from her neck and put it
around his. In this state, he’d need the ma-
gical protection more than she would.

She had to get him out of there. A lot

less simple. She tried to pull him to the door-
way. A hard job for most men to lift his over-
sized frame, nearly impossible for her.
Nearly. There’s something to be said for ad-
renaline and the prospect of being caught in
a broken in apartment with an unconscious
man and a dead girl, does wonders for mo-
tivation. Using her feet against the wall as
extra propulsion, Fanchon Marie leaned

until she forced him to flip over and dug in
his pockets.

Jackpot. Blackberry. She scrolled

down the contact list until she found the only
person she knew she could trust.

“Gregorio? Hi, it’s me, Fanchon Mar-

ie. Emergency. Big freak out emergency.
Walk two blocks east of my house until you
see a pastry shop. Get to the apartments on
the third floor above it and please hurry.
Luca’s down.”

Fanchon Marie alternated between

pacing and crying over Luca’s body for the
next ten minutes. She met them at the door.
She could barely speak by the time Gregorio
arrived with more of Luca’s men.

“Mulló. We followed the scream and

the call of magic. I guess between all the
rituals he burned himself out. I—”

“More than you know. A Rom Baro

might, and I do mean might, have to deal
with lost souls once every few years. Usually

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no one is stupid enough to keep trying it. But
to handle as many as he did a few hours ago,
I’m surprised he stood this long. He’s had a
lot to handle lately,” he said, finally looking
directly at her face. It wasn’t a kind look. In
fact, it was downright nasty.

Unbelievable. “Are you seriously tak-

ing the time out to chastise me for being
somewhat iffy about a forced marriage?”

“No. You both carried the weight of

the world on your shoulders, for different
reasons. I hope the two of you realize that
you can at least share the load now.”
Gregorio rose, lifting Luca’s upper body.
Another man, Stephan, carried his legs. “You
need each other.”

“You don’t like me very much, do

you?”

Gregorio didn’t stop his march out the

door. “He does, and that’s enough for me.
For now.”

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Inside the car, Fanchon Marie and

Gregorio took turns trying to rev up Luca’s
power supply. In the end, nothing worked.
The presence of a pulse showed the only
signs of life. “Why is this happening?” She
glanced in time to see Luca’s number two roll
his eyes. “If you have something to say, spit it
out.”

“What would you like me to say, fu-

ture Beluni? That if this wedding had
happened years ago, his rule would be ce-
mented by now? If he hadn’t been spending
so much time worried about your delicate
sensibilities that he could have focused on
and probably settled this Breznik issue?”

“Don’t you dare judge me. I didn’t

plan to have this wedding at all!”

“Neither did he. I think you forget

that sometimes.” Gregorio settled back into
the car seat. He said nothing more to her for
the duration of the trip.

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****
When they reached the house, she

tried to follow the men who carried Luca up
to his bedroom, only to be stopped by Soph-
ie. The family maid raised her hand, looking
for all the world as if she wanted to strike
Fanchon Marie across the face. With a ham-
mer. She wasn’t in the mood for this b.s. “Get
outta my way, old lady.”

“What have you done to him?”
“Excuse me?” Fanchon Marie rolled

her eyes in disbelief. “This man has been
through hell, and I’m going to go upstairs
and take care of him. Me. His future wife.”

“I won’t let you touch him with your

marimé Vodou magic.”

“You try to stop me, and you won’t

touch anything else ever again.” Fanchon
Marie brought every dirty hex she knew to
the forefront of her mind and silently dared
the woman to give her any excuse to use one.
The wizened creature had never given

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Fanchon Marie a reason for the animosity
between them, but she’d be damned if she’d
lower herself to ask. Besides, she had a pretty
good idea why already. Sophie made it clear
during their earlier, short encounters: she
hated anything and anyone not of the Roma.
For her beloved prince to marry a Vodou wo-
man, well, he may as well be marrying a pack
beast from the fields.

Sophie s stomped her way up the

stairs. “I have taken care of him since before
he was born,” she said, wringing her hands
in her skirts. “I’m not about to stop now.”
Her accent thickened as she grew more pas-
sionate. “You do not have sway over me. I
will do as I please.”

The woman pressed her last nerve.

Time to pull out the big guns...and hope to
God they were properly loaded. “I order you
to stay downstairs, and I make this order in
the name of the Rom Baro.”

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Sophie whipped around and Fanchon

Marie took a step back from the red faced
and wild-eyed woman. The two stared at
each other with cold determination. Fanchon
Marie filled the silence first. “As the future
mistress of this household, it is well within
my rights and you know it. Back off.”

The woman’s mouth dropped so far

that Fanchon Marie could have parked a car
in there. Or a fist. The former was a good im-
age, the latter a real possibility. With an ex-
asperated sigh, Sophie clipped her as she
mowed past. Fanchon Marie didn’t take time
to gloat though, Luca lay on a bed upstairs,
and he needed her.

****
Rose and purple colored sun rays

woke her up the next day. She stretched out
of the same position she’d been locked in all
night: curled up and sobbing beside an un-
conscious Luca. His well-being consumed
most of her thoughts. Gregorio, however,

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came in a close second. She couldn’t get
Gregorio’s words out of her head. You need
each other.

The man hadn’t lied, and it hit her like

a ton of bricks. She needed him. She wanted
him. She felt safe around him. Fanchon Mar-
ie flopped her head back on the pillow and
rubbed soft circles into his chest. She hoped
he needed her, too.

She hurried to the bathroom to refill

the water basin. Just as she’d done so many
times during the night, she put the sponge to
his head and wiped away sweat in an attempt
to cool him off. His fever had yet to descend
from its baking hot levels, and nothing she’d
done helped in any lasting way. This was ma-
gic’s hollow. The emptiness of one drained of
energy. There was no cure but time, no
medicine but the ticking of the clock.

“Vous

doit

se

rèveiller,”

she

whispered in his ear. Luca shivered and
moaned, but otherwise, his condition did not

127/360

change. “S’il vous plaît?” Luca’s head turned
to the sound of her voice. His eyes though,
remained closed. “All right, Mr. Stubborn,
take your time. I’ll be right here when you
wake up.”

With no wish to leave the bed, Fan-

chon Marie stretched over to get her phone.
She made a note to herself to send anonym-
ous flowers to the young wife’s husband,
once her body had been discovered. She
wondered if that woman’s face would ever
leave her mind.

“Fanchon

Marie?

You

awake?”

Gregorio’s voice bellowed from the other side
of the door. “There was a situation at your
house. We need you out here pretty quick.”

She ignored him.
“I heard the water come on, woman.

Come downstairs. Now. If you’re going to be
the Beluni, act like it.”

She wasn’t going anywhere. “It will

have to wait. I’m not leaving him!” she yelled

128/360

though the closed door. And she didn’t in-
tend to. Her main concern laid right next to
her one the bed.

The sound of Gregorio’s chuckle waf-

ted through the door. “I’m glad to hear you
talk that way but, we need to know if any-
thing is missing. What happened yesterday
reeks of a setup. Someone needed you out of
your house. We have to figure out why.”
When she didn’t immediately respond, he
started up again. “I understand that you
want—”

Her violent wrenching open of the

bedroom door stopped him mid-sentence.
“Get Sophie.”

The bat must have been hanging from

one of the many rafters. As soon as her name
fell from Fanchon Marie’s lips, she appeared.
Ugh. She tried to bite back her disgust. No
matter what she thought of the old hag,
Sophie cared for Luca completely.

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“I changed the water in the basin a

few minutes ago,” she said to her. Wipe him
down if he gets too hot. Do not leave his side.
You’re a dead woman if you do.”

“I never will,” Sophie said. “I never

have.”

She tightly nodded to Fanchon Marie

before closing the door behind her. Still
dressed from last night, she walked down-
stairs behind Gregorio and towards the gar-
age. She wanted this over and done with.

“I thought about what you said
yesterday.”
“And?”
“And yes, you’re right. Just try to extend
some of those considerations my way,
too. Okay?”

“You have my word, but that’s not

what we need to be focused on right now.”
For the second time in as many minutes, he
looked at her with something in his eyes that
she took for tenderness.. “Your home is in

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pretty bad shape. Long story short, it’s been
ransacked. You need to prepare yourself for
it.”

“I don’t care. I want to get in, get out,

and get back to Luca.”

He smiled lightly, but didn’t speak.
Upon arrival, she found out that she

cared more than she thought. The faceless
intruders destroyed her sanctuary. Trashed
it. Shards of broken glass from cracked fam-
ily portraits littered the floor. The furniture
had been ripped as if someone had hoped to
find hidden treasures inside the cushions.

Blinking away tears, she went to her

jewelry case and cried with delight to find
her ancestral pieces still there. What were
they, whomever they were, looking for? She
spent two hours going over everything, again
and again. It looked like the wreckage of a
tornado, though nothing was gone. Her stuff
was present, but destroyed.

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None of the electronics were taken,

and the silver hadn’t been removed from the
cupboards. “I- I don’t know, Gregorio. I don’t
see where anything important is missing. I
dunno. It’s all a little too intense. Maybe I
overlooked something.”

Gregorio nodded towards the balcony.

“Come over here. Let’s get some air.” They
exited to find they weren’t alone. A large,
black cat peered at them from the attached
ledge.

“Really?” he asked, the faint smile back
in place. “You couldn’t have been more
inventive? Black cats are so overdone.”
She rolled her eyes. “That thing’s not
mine. I’m not a litter box type of gal.”
“Oh.” Without a word of warning,
Gregorio pulled out a gun from the in-
terior of his jacket and shot the cat in
one single move.

“Are you insane?” Not liking litter

boxes and wanted cats shot were worlds

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apart. “What kind of a psycho are you?” She
felt bile rising in her throat and started back-
ing away.

“Ease off and relax. That cat is

enchanted.”

“Was. That cat was enchanted.”
“Fine. Was. Is this your first time see-

ing it?” Fanchon Marie’s nod seemed to have
soothed his nerves. “Good. Better than if it’d
been hanging around for some time. It was
probably sent to see what’s been happening
here. In the absence of—”

Below, a screaming Luca cut off their

conversation.

“What the hell?”
Seconds later, Luca rushed over to

place an arm around Fanchon Marie’s waist.
The poor man tried to respond but couldn’t
get a word in. “Someone breaks into her
house, and you bring her here?” Luca’s
hands curled into angry bowling balls by his

133/360

side. “And what the hell are you shooting
at?”

“Enchanted feline. Not hers, not ours.

About the other thing, well, I brought her
here to find out what’s been taken. Still want
to kill me?” That seemed to relax Luca’s face
a bit.

“This conversation isn’t over. We’ll

finish it later.” Luca looked over the edge to
see the feline below. “I think I know what he
wanted.” Luca pulled a gold coin out of his
pocket, larger than anyone she’d ever seen.

“Your Touching Coin,” Gregorio said.

“Fully realizing the tail kicking I deserve and
may well get for saying it, thank God you
were such a bitch, Fanchon Marie.”

“Hey!”
“Gregorio, out!”
The grinning man held up his hand in
mock surrender. “All right, all right. In
all seriousness, you shouldn’t be up.”

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“When I wake up to find Sophie in a

panic and my Cara gone, it gave me all the
energy I needed. I have another long sleep
due, but it can wait a bit. Now, give us some
privacy.”

Gregorio nodded on his way out. “I am
one room away if you need me.”
With the privacy granted, she fell into
his arms. You really shouldn’t be out of
your bed yet.”
“You shouldn’t be out of my bed yet
either.”

They smiled, but she saw through his

bravado. His grip around her waist wasn’t as
firm as it had been in the past. Or his voice.
While confident, it didn’t have the same
timbre she’d come to know so well. Fanchon
Marie nuzzled closer, willing her strength to
somehow supplement his own reserves.

He needed a safe distraction. She un-

wrapped and arm and held out her hand,
palm upward in question. “The Touching

135/360

Coin...may I see it? I’ve always wanted to
know what one of these looked like.”

“Of course. It belongs to you.” Luca

put the coin in her palm and closed it. “The
Touching Coin is a closely held secret among
my people. Do you know anything about it?”

She shook her head. “Only that every

Roma has one.”

“No, my love,” he said. “Only every

male. And he is guaranteed more than one.
Two coins come from his father’s treasure,
inscribed with the clan seal on one side and
the family name on the other. This has been
our means of identification for centuries –
an early passport, so to speak. The one I
wear under my neck never comes off.”

Fanchon Marie flipped the heavy coin

in her hand. “This one is for me?”

“Yes. In a way, it is me. And whoever

has the other coin has power over me. It is
meant to be given to our promised brides to
set a foundation of mutual trust and loyalty.”

136/360

“But since I was being a bitch, as

Gregorio so lovingly put it—”

“I couldn’t trust you with it until

now.”

Fanchon Marie’s heart contracted. “I

can’t, Luca,” she said, pressing the coin back
into his hand. He refused to take it, and she
felt a small amount of happiness at that.

“If I cannot trust you with this, I can-

not trust you with anything.” Luca titled her
chin to plant a kiss. “I woke up this morning,
with your gris gris, your protection around
my neck. I woke up feeling loved. Am I?”

“I guess.”
“And I guess I love you, too. Now take

the damned coin before we both change our
minds.”

A crying, but laughing, Fanchon Mar-

ie leapt into Luca’s arms. “It’s simple, right?
Kill the monsters, get married, and be happy.
That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

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138/360

Chapter Nine

After the stunt the Morlena pulled at

Fanchon Marie’s house, Luca didn’t have any
problems convincing her to move to the
compound before the wedding. While she oc-
cupied herself with the settling in, Luca set
out to find Breznik. Stephan had traced the
leader of the Morlena to Saint Louis Number
1, the oldest cemetery in New Orleans. Time
to end this.

Luca went alone. He left Gregorio and

all the rest of his men, save Stephan, safely
guarding Fanchon Marie with the protecting
legerdemain of his home. Besides, he’d be
home soon to see to his woman himself. This
shouldn’t take long. Stephan came with him.
Between the two of them, they ought to be
able to handle one madman.

The sun washed the tombstones in

shades of orange and maroon as it made it’s
descent behind the horizon. He shielded his

eyes against the glare as the sun’s rays
bounced off the marble.

“Stay here and shoot Breznik if he

comes out.”

“I’d rather go with you, boss. I can

help if something goes down.”

“No, Stephan. If I do not make it out, I

need you to make sure he dies in here, too. I
am asking a lot to have you as my second,
but I want you to shoot anything not named
Luca exiting this place.” Almost certainly a
death sentence, yet all of his men knew the
risks when they joined his service. Luca
tapped him on the shoulder then headed in-
side. “Good luck to the both of us.”

He stalked his way to the back of the

cemetery. If any mischief was to be done, it’d
be born out of this oldest, darkest part. Here
the vines and ivy grew heavy and thick. No
flowers or handwritten notes graced these
crypts. These were names that time had for-
gotten – people so removed from common

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memory that no still lived to know they were
buried. Sure enough, Luca heard a soft
chanting. Drawing nearer, he made out the
words of a Calling Spell. “Stronzo!” It was
Breznik in the flesh.

As he turned the corner, Luca noticed

five spirits wailing, begging for a return to
their eternal slumber. He would give it to
them. Luca pulled out the small automatic
he’d put against his back. Spells are good and
all, but bullets don’t suck either. Catching
Breznik in the sight, he released the safety
and applied a slow, steady pressure to the
trigger.

“Gotcha.” Direct hit.
After the first bullet connected, Luca

rose from his position but continued to fire
shot after shot. Only idiots in movies shoot
once before standing over the body. Stupid
move. Shoot until you have to reload then
gloat. Though at the moment, he could un-
derstand such foolish sentiments. This

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problem of his would soon cease to exist, and
the thought brought a smile to his face.

It took him a minute to realize that

Breznik didn’t once flinch or howl in pain.
Rather than fall to the ground, Breznik
turned to issue a chortled, raspy laugh.
That’s when Luca remembered. Breznik was
a Convexer, someone who could throw a mir-
ror image of themselves while their real
body, was housed someplace else.

“Might as well put your little toy away,

Rom Baro.” Breznik, or rather the projection
of him, bowed down in mock submission.
“You know you can’t hurt me.”

Bullshit. “Oh, I can. The next time I

see you in person. The real you, you are a
dead man. Now take your filthy image and
get out of here while I return these people to
their sleep.”

“This town is full of cemeteries, Luca.

I’ll find another one.”

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“Not anytime soon. This magic of

yours is weak.” Breznik flickered like a skip-
ping DVD scene. “Pathetic. Look at you; even
now you struggle to hold up the image. Go on
lick your wounds, because I’m coming for
you.”

“You’re coming for me? How dare

you!” The projection’s face turned a dark and
dangerous red. “This is my city, Luca
Dobregea – mine! My family worked this
earth, lived on these rivers and swamps since
before the Purchase, even before the French.
We were here with the Spanish, the first cit-
izens! It’s my right, and you won’t have her.
This region? She belongs to me and my
people.”

Seconds later, the image blinked out.
Luca called Stephan with orders to

ready the supplies. He had a long night of
soul sealing ahead of him, and he didn’t in-
tend to go in ill-prepared.

****

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Fanchon Marie couldn’t believe that

he’d waltzed off to go play Batman. Alone.

New Orleans magic ran in her blood

as thick as a double turned ribbon. She
should have been out there protected her
city, too. Was she? Noooooo. Rather than do-
ing what she’d been placed on the earth for
(though, not necessarily doing well), she or-
chestrated the move of her stuff into his
place. Hardly seemed an equal partnership.

A stomping, nearly mute Gregorio

clearly shared her sentiments, but he was the
man who followed all rules to the letter. So
when she asked him for a private room, he
hadn’t been too shocked by his response.

“No.” The same answer to every ques-
tion she asked today.
“Why not and ‘because’ is not an
answer!”
The dark-haired man flashed his blue
eyes, shrugged and carried another box

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upstairs while Fanchon Marie ran to fol-
low him.
“But why—”
“Protection? Sex? Those would be my
reasons anyway.” Another good natured
sigh. “Look, he wants you in here and
that’s that.”
“But he said I’d have my own room.” She
winced at the whine in her voice.

He smiled in earnest. “Oh, you do, but

it doesn’t have a bed. My idea.” She shot him
a look. “C’mon, you have to appreciate the
genius behind it.”

She did not.
“I’ll uh, go get you some hangers.”
Gregorio sidestepped out of the way

while Fanchon Marie entered the monu-
mental walk in closet. “You can get all the
hangers you want,” she whispered. “There’s
no place to put them.” Designer suits and
ties lined every square foot of the closet.
“Looks like our boy has a little clothing

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fetish.” The top of an island in the middle of
the closet glittered with watches and rings
that reflected the recessed lighting. “This is
insane.” Had she missed something? Were
his closet doors secret portals to a shopping
center?

Well, if Luca expected her to share his

space then he’d need to make some for her.
Stack by stack, Fanchon Marie removed huge
bundles of clothes and dumped them on a
growing pile on the other side of the
threshold.

Mount Clothing reached an elevation

of nearly four and a half feet by the time
Gregorio returned. He stopped dead in his
tracks when he saw it. Walked a few more
steps then stopped again. “What in the hell
are you doing?”

“Moving in. Do me a favor and hang
these in another room.”

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“Be serious.” His eyes widened. “Oh my
God, you are. I don’t want any part of
this.”
“Luca told me to move in. No, scratch
that, he demanded it. So that’s exactly
what I’m doing. Now, are you going to
help me?”
“No.” Monosyllabic Man returns.
“Fine.” Fanchon Marie marched over to
the balcony, opened the door wide, and
started chucking clothes off the ledge.

She didn’t know what look she expec-

ted Gregorio to have, but she certainly hadn’t
anticipated seeing him smile as she went for
her second stack of clothes to launch.
“What’s so funny?”

“Jesus, woman. He’s going to kill

you.”

She said nothing and kept working.

Fanchon Marie lifted the next pile over,
grunting the whole time. Still ignoring him,
she dialed Evil Bones on the house phone.

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“Yes, Sophie, a word. If you go out back,
you’ll find a pile of clothes that need to be re-
moved. I don’t care what you do with them.
Thank you.”

The phone barely grazed the holder

when Gregorio spoke up. “Forgive my curios-
ity, but what do you propose to tell Luca
when he asks what happened to thousands of
dollars’ worth of clothes?”

“I’ll tell him the truth.”
He grunted. “That’s stupid. You would
do better to say that moths ate them.”
“Shut up and get out!”
He bowed deeply and left. She heard his
laughter bouncing off the walls though
the closed door.

More anxious than bored, Fanchon

Marie looked around. She needed something
to concentrate on other than Luca, his closet,
her lack of a room, or his current activities.
Or her shop.

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Oh, God, her shop. She counted back

the hours since she’d been there. How many
brides had she missed? She got up and did a
loop around the room, in search of her cell
phone. Where the hell was it? There! In her
purse, on silent mode and with several
missed calls. She tried to call her voicemail,
but with one bar left, no dice. Fanchon Marie
found the charger at the nearest outlet.

Her gaze landed on the unaddressed
package in the corner next to it. Sophie
must have brought it up at some point.
She sat down next to sit and gave the
thing her first thorough inspection.
Magic.

Not overt, no, but present nonethe-

less. It was a magic hidden, but not well. At
least, not from her. She flipped it and sniffed
the bindings. Perhaps it was magic inten-
tionally hidden from everyone but her.
Someone wanted her to have this, but
without drawing attention to it. Why?

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Fanchon Marie plugged in her phone, but
went right back to the package.

The tan fingers of her right hand

clasped around the gris gris Luca had re-
turned, which hung from her neck. The left
traced the edges of the package. It was a
small box, a perfect square of ten inch meas-
urements. It felt quite heavy though. Had
someone sent box of bricks?

Turns out, yes.
Inside laid a perfectly smooth stone, a

vial of water and a note with an address and
a warning:

Come alone. Lives depend on it.
She flounced down on the floor with

the box and its contents between her legs.
She rested her hands and on her knees as she
thought it out. This package had been sent
long ago. Had lives already been lost, assum-
ing this message was even real and not some
stupid prank? Who would prank her though?
No one she knew, and certainly not like this.

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So what if it was real? Or what if it

was something more? A trap, perhaps. She’d
have to be an idiot not to consider it.
However, the magic hadn’t felt malicious,
just urgent. Insisting. She had to go.

Quickly, and as quietly as she could,

Fanchon Marie made her way downstairs.
The house was eerily silent. Gregorio has
long gone into hiding after the closet incid-
ent, and Sophie did well to be out of reach
when her dear Luca wasn’t around. The only
people she met during her escape were two
young guards, easily bypassed with a few
harmless words of Vodou, and she was off.

She didn’t take a car. Like her ancest-

ors before her, Fanchon Marie often drew
her magic from the land. And so it was the
land that carried her on this task. To the cas-
ual observer, she must have looked like a
young woman out for a late night stroll. It
would take a practiced eye to see more. If a
passersby saw her kick off her shoes, they

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would likely have no notion that she did so to
establish a closer link to the earth below her
feet. When she stopped to pluck a flower
from a budding bush, they would probably
only see a woman enjoying nature, not ab-
sorbing it.

What she absorbed wasn’t very much.

Not on a strict linear scale of measurement
anyway. She didn’t own this land. It wasn’t a
cache of power that she could lay claim to,
but it was a part of her. Some women
wouldn’t leave the house without a favorite
piece of jewelry; this was hers. She wore
communal magic as an adornment and a
talisman.

At length, she came to the address

messily scribbled on the back of the note.
The building was young by New Orleans
standards. It didn’t have the old porch rail-
ings or trellises. In fact, it looked like
something that could have been plucked
from an old television sitcom from the 50’s,

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located in Anywhere, USA. The bricked
chimney that punched through the roof was
covered with a faded blue tarp. White win-
dow shingles had gone a deep green with
mold and mildew and most were missing
more than a few rungs. The top of the house
sagged oddly in places and buckled in others,
looking more like a gray lumpy hill, than a
solid roof. Fanchon Marie breathed audibly,
raised her hand to the door, knocked and
waited.

“Come in,” a raspy, but strong female

voice answered.

She rubbed her gris gris and crossed

the threshold. Her mouth immediately
dropped to the floorboard. The inside of the
house gleamed so brightly that it nearly
blinded her. Everything was in order, shined,
well-placed, and brilliantly clean.

The old woman laughed. “It tends to

have that effect on people. Now sit. We have
much to discuss.”

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Fanchon Marie stared at her. Old, but

beautiful. Her age, however, and her ethni-
city were both indeterminate. Silver hair
hung loose to her bosom, and she was decor-
ated with emeralds in every possible shade of
green. She ignored this rather rude appraisal
of her and leapt into conversation. “Come,
sit. I’m not long for this earth and, my dear,
neither are you. We must speak.”

Any icy shiver ran up Fanchon Marie’s

spine, quickly replacing the amazement she
felt milliseconds earlier. “What are you talk-
ing about? I don’t even know who you are?”

“A friend. There is power in a name,

you understand. As for the other, I meant
what I said. We will both die...and soon.”

Fanchon Marie’s heart drummed in

her ears, but she didn’t interrupt. While the
woman’s words terrified her, she knew they
were the words of a true Seer. Something
about them had a tenor that her heart re-
called. Her grandmother and mother both

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had it. It didn’t surprise her that only the
words terrified her, not the woman herself.
The grand lady felt good – wholesome. She
could be trusted.

“I can’t see the ending for you, though

it won’t be the same as mine. My own will be
complete and final. My soul, spirit, and body
will end as one.”

“And mine?” Fanchon Marie asked.
“Will not. It must be this way, al-

though the good Lord has not seen fit to tell
me why.” She leaned back into her sofa and
took a sip of a steaming hot beverage. “Your
death,” she continued, “will not end you – if
you fight. I’ve seen two futures. One of tor-
ment in death and another of a long, happy
life. Never before have I seen two destinies
shown for one person.”

Fanchon

Marie

collected

herself

enough to speak. She knew better than to
question the woman’s visions or warning.
She’d group up with a Seer or two and long

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ago accepted the strength of their power,
even if she never fully understood its source.
“It means,” she said carefully, “that both
things could happen. Yes?”

The matronly woman nodded.
“Why do I trust you?”
She chuckled at this, but not unkindly.

“The world is old. There’s nothing new in it.
We’re all made of bits of something else.
Maybe I’m made of a bit you know. Remind
you of someone you loved? Trust is the easi-
est instinct. It’s in our gut. Like animals.
They know in a minute when it’s time to run
or it’s time to love. We’re the same way, but
people don’t listen to it. You think a squirrel
from here, who ain’t never seen a tiger,
gonna stay around one if he ever meets it?”

“Don’t think so.”
“Sure you right! Cause it knows. What

I said about bits, remember? And what stuffs
made of.” The old lady slapped Fanchon
Marie on the knee. “You’re a squirrel. Brave

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one. Stupid, though. You’re running from
something you don’t need to be running
from. It’s gonna put you right where you
don’t wanna be. Don’t fight the wrong thing.
You ain’t got time for all that. You have a real
battle. One you can’t play around with. You
get what I’m saying to you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You’re not afraid then?”
“I’m terrified.”

“Oh. Well, so am I,” the woman said,

laughing as she did. “But you must fight, and
you must win.” She pointed to the note Fan-
chon Marie held in a death grip. “The vial I
sent you, you must drink half of it on the day
of your wedding. The other half must be giv-
en to someone who knows and understands
the healing power of waters. I cannot see
him, nor tell you who he is, but you will
know. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

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“It’s the only way to make everything
end right,” the woman said.
“Make what end right?”

The exasperation in the lady’s voice

matched her own. “I don’t know, child. But it
must be done, and you must be quiet about
it. Tell no one of our meeting.” She grabbed
Fanchon Marie’s hands and kissed firmly.
“You must go now. My death is coming
quickly, and you must not be near when it
does. I wish I had more time with you. In the
long ago years, I knew your family well – we
studied the old ways together. But you, oh, I
would have loved to have known you well. I
would have loved you, period. Of this, I’m
sure. Maybe a bit of me did a long time ago.”

So was Fanchon Marie. She wanted

more time with this woman and had no in-
tention of letter her go yet. “We can try to—”

“Look around you.”
Fanchon Marie did as directed. The

walls of the home were adorned with

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pictures of every size and shape. “This is my
family. The ones I knew as a child are gone,
and those who children now, are happy.
What more do I need to accomplish?” The
hands around her wrists tightened. “My fu-
ture is certain. I can’t change it any more
than I can change the visions that led me to
you. It is done.” And the topic was closed.
She rose, brought Fanchon Marie up with
her, and they drifted towards the door.
Fingers, wrinkled, gnarled, and twisted by
time, wiped tears away from the younger wo-
man’s cheeks. “Go now and do not cry for
me. After all, we’ve only just met. Rejoice for
yourself and fight. Do as I’ve told you and
live. I’ve had my life – spent it delivering and
receiving messages. Yours is my last one, and
I’m tired, to tell the truth of it. Now go. We
will meet again, but only for a moment. Re-
member, trust your little squirrel.” The wo-
man stopped, this time to wipe tears from
her own eyes. “Good bye, dear. I’ve know you

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forever and not nearly a minute.” She smiled,
turned away, and closed the door behind her.

Fanchon Marie made no attempts to

stifle her tears and cried the entire walk back
to Luca’s. Her sobs had cooled to whimpers
by the time she reached the gates, but her
heart ached just the same. She didn’t see the
impending attack coming.

“Where were you? Why are you out so
late?”
Sophie.
She

sounded

both

mocking

and

accusing.
Fanchon Marie couldn’t tell her the
truth. Or anyone else for that matter,
even Luca. “Out for a walk. Is Luca
home?”
“Trying to sneak back in then? Well, no
he isn’t, but I will tell him of your com-
ings and goings.”

Fanchon Marie shrugged and moved

past her and continued into the house, up

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the stairs, and onto the bed. She grabbed
Luca’s pillow, breathed his scent in deeply
and cried herself to sleep.

****
Fanchon Marie heard Luca creep into

the bedroom at four in the morning. Without
a word of hello, she hurled a pillow directly
towards his head.

“What the hell?”
“You don’t know what I’ve been

through Luca!” Another pillow.

“You?” She couldn’t exactly see his

face in this light, but given his voice, she had
an idea of what it looked like. Still, she
hadn’t spent all that time crying and fussing
over his unconscious body to have him go
run off and do something stupid again. And
anyway, she had had a rough day. The pro-
cess of moving would have been a whole lot
simpler with him there to help out. Never
mind that her death had been foretold.

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“I couldn’t stop worrying about you. I

even missed fighting with you.” Fanchon
Marie lowered her latest projectile. “What
happened out there?”

“Hell.”
She knew the feeling. “Come here.”

She needed to be near him as much as he
seemed to need her. She wanted to feel safe
again.

A slack-shouldered, tired lump of a

man flopped on the bed beside her. “Help me
get out of these clothes, Fanchon Marie.
They’re unclean.”

Deft fingers unbuttoned the expensive

fabrics. Fanchon Marie could feel the dirty
magic. “They will have to be destroyed.”

“I know.” Luca kicked off his shoes

and started in on his belt.

Compassion fastened around her

heart. “I’ll get it.” Whatever he’d been though
had been just as rough, too. “Relax your body
and lie back.”

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Luca jutted his pelvis forward as she

tried to remove his trousers. “Don’t go get-
ting any ideas, Rom Baro. You are still, as
you say, marimé.” A tired smile snaked its
way across his lips.

“Good thinking woman. Dirty sex?

Good. Unclean magic, just come from fight-
ing the undead sex? Bad. Very, very bad.”

Fanchon Marie bit back a smile after

she removed his last bit of clothes. “Tell your
friend downstairs that.” She paused to kiss
his stomach before rising with outstretched
arms. “Come on, let’s get you into the shower
and cleaned up.”

“Join me.”
“No.” At his arching eyebrow, Fan-

chon Marie quickly threw her plan into the
ring. “You take a shower while I draw a hot
bath for us. How’s that sound?”

“Us?”
“Us. We need to talk about your night.”
“And then?”

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“Oh, get in there!” Fanchon Marie

turned her back to him and readied the tub.
Next to his bedroom, this was her favorite
room in his house. Their house. Their home.
Like every other room, Neoclassicism and
the Gothic married to create impressive
columns and tall doors and royal opulence.
She loved it.

She also loved knowing that Luca

stood right there, watching her from the
shower. Slower than necessary, Fanchon
Marie removed one article of clothing at a
time. She hadn’t had on much to begin with.
First her pajamas bottoms went. Then the
top. Next, Fanchon Marie raised one leg to
dip a toe into the highly raised oval Roman
tub. Rather than continue in, she lounged on
the side. “I’ll wait.”

The water in the shower stopped six

seconds later.

Long strides brought Luca over and

into the tub before Fanchon Marie had time

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to register that she’d been pulled in as well.
Rather than position himself behind her, he
brought her down so that her body straddled
his.

“Where did you go last night?”
She froze for a moment and chose her

words carefully. “Luca, do you trust me?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer, not
sure she could handle whatever he said.
“Even if you don’t, I need you to start right
now.”

Fanchon Marie waited for him to say

something, but his mouth brought nothing
but a million small kisses. Her lips, her eyes,
her nose and forehead – each area of her face
received equal attention. Only after pepper-
ing her for another two minutes, did he
gently enter her.

He moved slowly. So slowly that Fan-

chon Marie wondered how this could be the
same man she’d had sex with before. The

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man inside her was making love to her. No
crushing kisses or bruising holds, this man--

“I want to put my child in you.”
Well, that’s a new one. Instead of

killing the mood, well, it sounded so primal,
so possessive. She liked it.

Luca pulled away enough to move his

head from her shoulders to face her. “I want
a family with you Fanchon Marie. A life. I
will be whatever you need me to be, but I
need you to stand by my side. Not because
you have to. Not because it’s what is best, but
because—”

“I want to.”
And THAT’S when her old Luca re-

turned. He grabbed her hips, forced her
down as he pounded in and out. Luca re-
moved one hand from her backside to brace
against the edge, allowing him to drill
deeper.

Fanchon Marie sat on the edge of

awareness, very near to shattering when

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Luca’s garbled words hit her ears. “Take. All.
Of. Me.” Lord knows she tried. Fanchon
Marie pistoned up and down, sweat dripping
down her body. She would have kept it up,
but then her mind exploded into million,
fanfuckingtastic little pieces.

A vaguely aware Fanchon Marie heard

him roar in her ear, followed by a sensation
of being lifted from the tub, wrapped in a
robe, and carried to the bed.

She didn’t know what her future held,
but her present was creating a strong
will to fight for it.
Sometime later, a roar of a different
kind woke her up.
“Fanchon Marie! Get the hell up! What
the hell happened to my clothes?”
She smiled weakly into the pillows.
“Moths?”

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Chapter Ten

God bless Sophie. Luca made would

give her a raise for hiding and thus saving his
clothes. One less thing to deal with today, the
eve of Beltane. The real Breznik ran loose in
the streets, the dead continued to rise, and
on top of everything else, tomorrow was his
wedding day.

His intended sat across from him on

the other side of the desk, clacking away at
her laptop. After their morning fight over the
clothes and her loving apology, they’d been
working on finding patterns in the locations
of the walking dead. “Anything?”

Fanchon Marie slightly looked up.

“No. Scatter shots all over the city. I don’t
think there’s any logic to the attacks, I won-
der–” Fanchon Marie stopped. “Anything
feel strange to you, right now?”

No, but something sure as smelled

weird. Luca leaned back in his executive

chair, shaking his head in disgust. “The
wolves are back.”

A ruckus below proved his words true.

“Let’s get this over with.” He picked up the
house phone and said, “Allow them to come
in.” Moments later, the mismatched were-
wolves crossed the threshold of the library.

“Good morning!”
“Ah, my Callie. Every day, you are a

bit more lovely than the day before.” The
little thing ran towards him and giggled in
his chest. “You know, Gregorio’s still single,
and he thinks you are divine. Which you are.
Perhaps—”

“Shut up. Why are we killing things that
are already dead?”
“Sean! Don’t be rude!”
“I’m sorry. Shut up and good morning.
Now, explain why we’ve spent the last
few hours re-killing things that are
already dead.”

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Callie rolled her eyes but pressed the
question. “Luca, it is bad out there. Ever
since last night—”
Luca raised his hand to pause her. “I
know, the spirits—”

“These are more than just spirits,”

Sean said. “They’re people. Or rather, they
were.” He pointed his finger towards Fan-
chon Marie. “Is this some of your Vodou
crap?”

Bad move. Luca rolled up his sleeves.

“Back off, pup. I’m feeling mighty territorial
today.” He took a minute to calm down then
continued. “This is the work of Breznik. He’s
calling the spirits, playing with them, keep-
ing the ones he can control, and releasing the
rest.”

“These are ‘the rest?’”
“Yes. After a time, they seek out new
bodies. Callie, I need your help.”
“No,” a masculine voice said softly.
“Don’t speak for me, Sean.”

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“Callie—”
The diminutive woman spoke for her-
self. “We’ll take out as many of these as
we can. But if you kill Breznik—”

“It should end them all,” Luca said.

My men are stationed all over the city look-
ing for him. Fanchon Marie is to stay in the
house until the wedding tomorrow but—”

The bride-to-be finally joined the con-

versation. “I can’t stay here all day. I have to
do things for tomorrow!”

Two other pairs of eyes turned to-

wards Fanchon Marie. Though no one said a
word, their eyes put their feelings out pretty
freaking clearly. One set called her idiot, the
other looked sympathetic.

“I really don’t care what you think. I

work every day of my life, helping brides get
ready for their weddings. What about me?
Oh my day...my one day, I’m just supposed
to let it go? Hell no! I deserve a proper freak-
ing wedding day. I deserve the whole thing.

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I’ll be damned if you, you or.” She stuck a
finger in Luca’s breast. “You mess it up.”

Several sets of eyes glanced around,

making contact with each other, while man-
aging to completely avoid the bride to be in
the center.

“Well?” she asked, arms crossed and

fingers tapping on opposite arms. “I’ll stay
with her,” Callie said. “I’ll guard her with my
life, Luca. We owe you so much.”

“I don’t owe him a damned thing.” Callie
shut him up by pointing to the two
golden wolf statues at the back of the
room.
Damn straight they owed him. They
owed him a lot.
“We’ll make a point to check in every fif-
teen or twenty minutes. And Sean will
be with us the whole time.”
“Jesus. We’re not guard dogs.”
“Stop it, Sean. Anyway, we will keep her
safe.”

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****

Thirty minutes later, Fanchon Marie

walked with her arm entwined in Callie’s.
The woman had been a lifesaver, and it was
easy to see why she and Luca had such an
easy relationship. Sean, on the other hand,
that one needed more explaining. “So what’s
on the deal with Luca and Sean?”

“Nothing. Ohhh, eclairs!” Which, of

course, they had to stop for. The werewoman
had a never-ending pit for a stomach. One
more endearing quality that Fanchon Marie
liked about her. With her parents and sisters
out of town, it was good to have another fe-
male around. Even one whose mind jumped
from sage to sophomoric minute by minute.
“All right, we’ve hit the caterers and your
florist friends,” Callie said between bites.
“But what about musicians?”

“That falls in Luca’s hands. Gregorio’s

younger brother is a wannabe DJ, and my
new father-in-law arrives tonight with his

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entire clan – inclusive of traditional
musicians.”

“Fine. What about the wedding

dress?”

“Already finished. It’s gone through

several rounds of enchantment over the past
few years. First his people, then my own and
now it’s back with his mother.”

The man five steps behind them

entered the conversation. “God, I really hate
to ask, and please don’t take this as any in-
dication that I care,” Sean said. “But why?”

“Well, again not that you care, but for

protection, good fortune, prodigious pro-
geny.” Fanchon Marie shrugged. “Standard
magical stuff.”

“Ignore him, girl. We’ve got to con-

centrate. Anything else we’re missing?”

Callie rattled off a list of things. Some

she hadn’t thought of herself. The girl would
make a hell of a wedding planner. “You ever
think about getting into the business?”

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“Weddings? No.” She waved a hand in
the air and clicked her tongue. “I’m not
a business suit type of girl.”
“You don’t have to be. Just personable.”
Fanchon

Marie

glared

over

her

shoulder. “It’s not a talent everyone
has.”
“Cute,” Sean said without a trace a hu-
mor. “You want her to work for you,
don’t you? That Rom Baro shit’s rubbing
off on you.”

Callie giggled at this exchange, but

shot the blond a look that made Fanchon
Marie wonder which one of them was really
in control of the other. “He’s sorry.”

“No, I’m not. Tell her you have a job.”
“Oh?” Fanchon Marie asked. “What is

it?”

“Odd jobs,” Callie said, but glared at

Sean who snorted once again. “Anyway, I
don’t think we’ll be here for too much longer.

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Someone wants to go back home to sit and
do nothing all day.

“Maybe someone,” added a red-faced

Sean, “is trying to keep someone else’s
worthless ass safe.”

“Worthless? Just because some of us

weren’t born with silver spoons—”

Fanchon Marie held up a hand

between the newly warring factions. “Maybe
once things settle down, someone, namely
Callie, can stay here and help me expand my
floral

business

into

another

avenue.

Someone else, namely Sean, can get a job do-
ing whatever it is that someones named Sean
do.” Besides if, rather, when, she got preg-
nant, she would need the extra help.

“I don’t classify stupid, rich boy games
as an occupation but—”
“I swear to god, Callie.”
She, and likely God, ignored this.
“C’mon, Fanchon Marie, forget him. Tell
me about the wedding cake.”

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“There’s no time I guess. Not for the

one I wanted anyway.” She whipped out a
sketch of it saved on her cell phone. “It
would have been awesome.”

“No kidding,” Callie said and gave an

appreciative whistle.

Her phone rang in the middle of this

and Fanchon Marie walked a few feet away
to answer the call. Another bride wondered
when she’d open shop again. “Soon” wasn’t
an answer the bride wanted to hear, but
there wasn’t much else to say. Further dejec-
ted, she hung up the phone and turned to see
Callie lay against Sean, her head buried in
his chest. For his part, Sean’s face was invis-
ible in her crop of curls. The curls moved a
bit, and Fanchon Marie figured he must have
been talking into them, saying something.
Words of apology, perhaps? If he wasn’t, he
should be.

Sean moved his head up to rest his

chin where his face had been. He wore a

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dopey smile for half a second, but opened his
eyes and met hers, grimaced and bodily
turned Cassie around. “She’s finished,” he
said.

“Oh? Business? Everything okay?”

Cassie asked.

“No. Another lost client. I miss it,

Cass. It’s not fair. I want my life back. All of
it.”

“Aw, honey.” Fanchon Marie felt her-

self pulled into another of Callie’s hugs, com-
plete with a kiss. She’d been awfully gener-
ous with them all afternoon.

Sean, however, remained an ass.

“That would be almost hot, if it wasn’t so
lame. Callie, if you can manage to pull away
from her, do me a favor and throw your nose
in the air. Something’s got that not so dead
anymore scent happening again.”

They weren’t alone in sensing it. A

feeling of loss laced with anger pressed down
on Fanchon Marie’s spirit. “I can’t smell it,

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but I can feel it around. Oppressively
present.”

“Well, as best I can tell, we have two

options. One, fight to save whatever poor
soul is on the other end of this city block or
two, walk away and have a stress free after-
noon,” Sean said. Now, I’m all for a drama
free lifestyle, but I can already see the wheels
turning in your little annoying do-gooder
heads.” She didn’t have to turn her head to
know that the look on Callie’s face matched
her own. “Annnnnd I’m out voted. Shocker.
All right, come on, Daphne, Velma, let’s go
save the day.”

The trio turned the corner with ex-

pectations of finding half-crazed undead
wreaking havoc on passersby. Not exactly.
The group of five recently undeceased
lounged against a store shop waiting. For
her. The creatures flew towards the trio, not
at all looking like they wanted to shake
hands.

179/360

Sean went after the two biggest ones,

Callie took on the third, leaving Fanchon
Marie and her Vodou to handle the remain-
ing two. No problem. She didn’t have her
normal magical implements, but her throat
still worked. She chanted a song of hope and
rest and of love and peace. She tried to rope
them into a quest for serenity, willing them
to return to their sleep. She saw her oppon-
ents falter then fade away into nothingness.
Under better circumstances, she would have
patted herself on the back. That would have
to wait. The one Callie tangled with, on the
other hand, had found some way to disable
her and make a move towards Fanchon
Marie.

She’d have to fight him off alone. Cal-

lie was out cold, and Sean couldn’t seem to
concentrate on anything beyond that. Way to
keep focused, kid. Fanchon Marie shook her
head and braced herself for an attack from
above. The creature’s feet glided millimeters

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above the ground, but stopped mere inches
away from her. This one was different from
the rest. It, or rather she, had more sub-
stance to her in mind and, apparently, spirit.
She was almost attractive. Dead and
shriveled everywhere, but her face. There
was life there, trapped beneath the death.
Knowledge too and more importantly,
power. The spirit moved from side to side.
Her dress, and an elaborate death gown like
one she’d seen in old history books, swirled
noiselessly. But her eyes! Fanchon Marie
would almost rather poke her own out than
keep looking at them.

“I’ll make you suffer,” it said. “I en-

joyed that in my first life and now, I’ll have
that pleasure again.” The thing oozed hatred
and disgust. Fanchon Marie fought back to
urge to wretch and cleared her throat.

“Save your songs, Vodou gal. Your

people tormented me over the decades with
them. They danced on my grave, drank over

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my corpse. You, my sweet, will pay for their
sins.”

“Who-who are you?” Fanchon Marie’s

voice quivered as much as her body. The un-
holiness of this woman ripped apart her
defenses.

“Why, Marguerite Durand, of course.”
Fanchon Marie finally lost her lunch.

Durand held position as one of New Or-
leans’s cruelest woman. Psychologists stud-
ied her back then and even now, her records
made graduate student case study materials.
What kind of monster would bring her back?

Fanchon Marie’s head snapped up as

she wiped her mouth with the hem of her
shirt. As much as she wanted to, she
shouldn’t turn away from the creature. The
strain of being in the presence of so much
evil warped her insides, and she grabbed her
throbbing head. This public display of pain
translated to pleasure for Durand. The
thing/woman licked her blue-black lips and

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giggled. “It has been so long since I’ve seen
the power my name has on people. I will take
my time with you. I will enjoy you so much.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll have to wait.” Sean!

Having pulled himself together, he elongated
his mouth enough to expose those steak
knives werewolves called teeth. He moved
before either she or Durand could react and
the blades found a home in the bitch’s neck.

Life faded away from the eyes of the

possessed woman, but the returned spirit
wasn’t done yet. “Killing the vessel? Fine.
Kill them all. I’m the one he’ll always bring
back. I’m the one that can keep coming
back.” As the kneeling body took its final
breath, a wisp of smoke wafted out the
mouth and jumped into a passing bird. Fan-
chon Marie and Sean both leapt up to grab it,
but the feathered rat swerved around them
and snatched a piece of Fanchon Marie’s hair
in its beak. Seconds later, it disappeared
from view.

183/360

“No!” Fanchon Marie screamed, but

too late. Marguerite Durand, one of the most
hated women in New Orleans history, was
the proud owner of enough of her temporal
body to do some major magical damage. The
body Marguerite left behind fell to the grown
with a soft “thunk.” Layers of heavy fabric,
the dress that had been Durand’s, was re-
placed by a more modern ensemble. That
was bad. Durand’s abilities to control were
far beyond any she’d ever heard of the dead
possessing.

“You okay?” Sean held a recovering

Callie in one arm, while holding out a hand
towards Fanchon Marie.

“Yes, I’m fine, thanks to you,” Fan-

chon Marie said as they walked together out
of the alley. “If that’s you in half-human
form, I can’t imagine the damage you could
have caused as a wolf.”

“I’m not so sure about that ability

anymore. Taking out those other things? No

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problem. But that last chick. You saw. Nada.
Everyone else was tied to a body. Remove the
body, remove the thing. But her? Her
spirit—”

“It didn’t bond to the body,” Fanchon

Marie finished. “With all the others, once
they find a new body, they’re undead, but
physically killable, if that makes sense. So-
mething like Marguerite would be too dan-
gerous to control. Why on earth would the
Morlena Romado it?”

“Well,” Sean said, “it does make sense

in an I’m-a-cackling-evil-mastermind with a
super-secret lair, sort of way. Come on, let’s
get you home. I want to get Callie comfort-
able before I have to fight Luca.”

Callie stopped so fast that she nearly fell
off the sidewalk. “Fight Luca?”
“It’s a given. When he finds out about
this little brouhaha, he’s definitely going
to try to kill me.”
****

185/360

Luca didn’t intend to stop until he lay

dead on the floor, but the little punk
wouldn’t fight back. “Get up! Now, Sean!
Get...” Punch. “Up....” Punch. “And....”
Punch. “Fight!”

“Luca, please! Let him go!” He felt

Fanchon Marie pull his arm away, but it only
made his rage expand to ginormous propor-
tions. “You’re defending him?! After all you
have been though today, you’re defending
him. Typical. And don’t think you’re getting
off the hook either. You had no business go-
ing out there.”

“I had to prepare things for OUR wed-

ding! Or have you forgotten already? This is
the only one I’m getting, and I deserve a
good one.” Fanchon Marie’s voice lowered to
above a whisper. “I wouldn’t allow Breznik or
any of the Morlenas to ruin my day--our day.
I won’t give him that much power over me. A
for him,” she said pointing to Sean. “Well, he
fought off two of them and chasing that crazy

186/360

bitch away. Plus, he’s already broken down
because of Callie.”

Luca’s shell cracked the tiniest bit. So

that’s what this was about. Why he wouldn’t
fight back. His...whatever she was to
him...was hurt.

“What if it’d been me, Luca?”
“It

almost

was,

Cara.”

Though

loosened, the non-punching hand still re-
mained locked around Sean’s throat.

“Perhaps,” a grinning Gregorio added,

“one might extend a small amount of Christi-
an charity to him, given his valiant efforts.
And it bears repeating that it won’t hurt to
have another man on the ground. We will
need all the extra protection we can get dur-
ing the wedding.”

Gregorio made a good argument. A

very good one, Luca acknowledged, as his
rage subsided. Breznik would have to be in-
sane to try something: a) on Luca’s land
while b) it’s packed with Roma and Vodou

187/360

masters and c) backed up by an angry were-
wolf. However, given what they’d said about
today’s attack, Luca had little confidence in
the man’s sanity.

“Fine. Pup, you live to fight another

day. Go see to Callie. Once she’s settled, get
back in my office for details on where I want
you stationed during the wedding. You’ll be
needed to literally, sniff out any danger. But
remember, Sean, this is your second strike.”

****
That night, the heavens poured out

their misery. An unnamed, but apparently
angry, god pranced around the sky, dumping
wheelbarrows of sorrow raced rain over the
city. Didn’t seem to be much hope of it let-
ting up anytime soon either. Well, hell. Why
not? Nothing else had turned out right for
her. Callie remained unconscious, Luca
seethed in anger, and Sean moped around,
grunting like a beast from a child’s fairytale.

188/360

Fanchon Marie tossed another of Ma-

dame Sophie’s mini-brownies into her
mouth and popped on the TV. The forecast?
Rain, followed by more rain, with a healthy
helping of torrential downpour on the side. A
ridiculously chippy, bobble-headed announ-
cer reported early flooding in the lowest
areas of the city and anticipated flooding
elsewhere. Yellow flashing warnings blinked
on and off in the corner of the screen. She
turned the TV off. She wasn’t worried. The
city had already seen the worst of Mother
Nature a few years back. This crap here was
annoying, but not much more than that.

Almost as annoying as being stuck in

the house the day before a rush job wedding
to an angry soon-to-be husband glowering
around below. With nothing else to do and
since she’d been forbidden to leave, Fanchon
Marie stuffed extra brownies into her pajama
pockets and went on a mission to snoop
around.

189/360

The old monastery he lived in had

only three floors and a basement, but each
hall went on for miles. She’d never actually
come to the end of one and wondered if it
was even possible. Between where she stood
and infinity were countless doors, most of
them locked by magic or mechanics.

She turned to make her way back to

the bedroom, only the light she’d left on
seemed much farther away that it should
have been. Above her a skylight that she
could almost swear hadn’t been there before,
provided the only source of light: the moon
and an occasional flicker of lightning. Times
like these, she really hated magic.

With each step, new doors material-

ized. Earlier fearlessness long gone, she had
no intention of opening any of them. She
kept her eyes on the far light of the bedroom.
As long as stayed focused on--

“Ohhhh!” So much for focus.

190/360

The latest door to appear looked noth-

ing like the rest. Not only did it have an invit-
ing crack, but its entire construction con-
sisted of glass and gold. She stuck her nose
so close to the window, that she could see her
breath on the pane. What she saw shocked
her.

Sky.
A clear, open sky, complete with

clouds and a couple of suns. Fanchon Marie
stumbled back, nearly crashed into the op-
posite side of the hall. She’d seen this before.
The door, the image peering at her,
everything was a recreation her childhood
vision of the afterlife. Something she’d
dreamed up when her grandmother passed
away. The chance to see her warm, bubbly
face again proved too powerful to ignore. She
went inside.

Dazzling lights greeted her, but it

wasn’t the heaven she saw though the glass
panes. Lilacs, emeralds, chartreuses, ambers,

191/360

and topazes nearly blinded her. Thousands
of bright colors cast the room in rainbows,
which then ricocheted off of a wall of
hanging silver plates and goblets.

“Hello.”
Fanchon Marie jumped a million feet

into the air. When her heartbeat returned to
human levels, she addressed the voice.
“Gregorio?”

“I didn’t expect to see you here. At

least not yet.”

“What do you mean?” She had to

shield her eyes to see him, but he emerged
from another row of shocking colors. “What
is all this?”

“My room.” He looked all the world

like a proud papa of a newborn. “And this is
my collection,” he said, pointing upwards.

As her eyes adjusted to light, she saw

that upon further inspection, the magical
colors were actually hundreds of colorful

192/360

bottles suspended from the ceiling by various
levers and pulleys. “What are they?”

“Sacred waters from around the

world. Wherever I go, I pick up a vial. Play
with it, mix it, try to make it stronger. What
is holy in one place may not be holy in anoth-
er, but with the right combination, I could
create the perfect protection potion.” She
watched him pull something on a chain out
of the top of his shirt. “So far this one is the
strongest. I think. I keep a vial around my
neck, just in case.”

“Care to share the love?”
Gregorio leaned against a large oak

table where a bed should have been. “I figure
I must have already done so. How do you
think you got in here?”

“I have no idea. The hall kept—”
“Growing?” He continued after her

nod. “This house has a surplus of two things:
men and protective magic. How better to
house them all, than in an expanding space?

193/360

More importantly, how better to protect
them all than with ensorcelled doors? They
only appear when a mutual level of trust has
been achieved, and I have a higher threshold
than most.” Gregorio took her right hand
and brought it to his lips. “Congratulations.
You passed.”

Fanchon Marie grabbed her bottom

lip between her teeth. “Is there a prize for
having completed such impossible a task as
earning your trust? Something like, oh I
don’t know, a bottle of protection?”

“I wish. As a matter of fact I tried, but

Luca doesn’t want anything unproven
around you.”

“Overbearing ape. Well, let’s forget

about him a moment. Tell me about your-
self.” Though she’d met him years ago, she
knew next to nothing about Luca’s closest
man.

194/360

“You first. Tell me about your magic.
I’ve always been fascinated by it. Seems
wild. Uncontrollable.”
“Only to outsiders.”
“Hmm. Our power tends to travel
though the men. We have it stronger.
It’s in the women for you, isn’t it?

Fanchon Marie nodded and Gregorio

leaned back, looking pleased. “Kids ought to
be interesting. Roma mothers would give
their lives for the children, but their boys.
My God, do the mothers love their sons!
Wonder how old Auntie will handle a grand-
daughter who can set her hair on fire?”

“Let me guess. You were spoiled by the
best of them.”
He winked, but didn’t bite.
“Come on, it’s your turn. Tell me about
yourself.”

“Not much to me. Not very much say,

really.” Not true, she found. They talked for
nearly ninety minutes about everything. He

195/360

shared his childhood with Luca and his
brothers in Italy. He’d never been in love,
but had a son when he was sixteen. The child
died before he had a chance to meet him. It
explained his zest for life and loyalty to those
around him. “You never know when
someone will be taken from you, so take love
when you can. Have at least three people
that you can tell everything to, without worry
and be willing to defend them to the death.
Have a family, but also have a family. You
never know when you might need someone
at your back.”

“Ah I see. And is there a special wo-

man in your life?”

Gregorio rubbed his stubble-free chin

before he delivered an answer. “No, but there
are several delightful non-special ones.”
They shared a laugh at that.

“Is that the secret to your success

then?”

196/360

“So far. I live life as it comes. That’s

what I’ve learned.” He gave her a wink before
asking, “And what have you learned?”

She thought about it a good long

while. He didn’t rush her, and she con-
sidered all she’d accomplished in the twenty-
seven years she’d been alive. She was a col-
lege graduate, even had an MBA and ran her
own business. On paper, she was perfect.

Then there was Luca. The marriage,

by its very nature of arrangement, was an af-
front to all she’d believed in and real slap in
the face to the women’s lib movement.

And for the first time, she thought so

what?

What was worth more to her? Fitting

some sort of standard or being happy? Was
she able to let go a little of herself to have
him? Yeah. Maybe Gregorio was right.
Maybe the trick really is as simply as taking
life at it comes. That meant taking Luca.

197/360

She caught Gregorio staring at her

and turned away. “Sorry. I got a little lost in
my thoughts there.”

“I think maybe that’s a good thing.”
Fanchon Marie smiled and dug into

her pockets for the small bit glass vial she’s
been carrying for days. She rolled it in the
palm of her hand, feeling the weight of it one
last time. “I’ve been wondering who this is
for. I thought Luca, but it’s you.” Fanchon
Marie picked up an empty jar and held it up
to Gregorio for his approval. At his nod, she
uncorked her vial and poured half of its con-
tents into the little clay jar.

He leaned over her shoulder as she
worked. “Where is it from?”
“I don’t know the water’s point of origin.
That is, the body of water it was once a
part of,” she said in all honesty.
Gregorio considered this and nodded
once more. “All right then. Who is it
from?”

198/360

“A friend.” She shook her head. “I don’t
know her name or even if she’s still
alive.”
“But do you trust her?”
“With my life.”

Gregorio’s iron steady hands took the

jar and without any further examination of
her or it, poured its contents into the small
vial that hung around his neck. “There. Now,
we--”

He jerked still. “Hold on a sec. It’s

Stephan.”

Fanchon Marie’s eyebrows shot up.

“Calling from some magical phone line?”

“Uh, yes. We call them cell phones,”

he said with a grin. He pulled the vibrating
mobile from his pocket and waved it in the
air. “He moved off campus to live with a lady
friend.”

He

winked

suggestively

and

puckered his lips to kiss the air before taking
the call. “Hello? What? Get out of the imme-
diate area. We’ll be there shortly.”

199/360

“What’s wrong?”
“No time. Put on some real clothes and
meet me downstairs. I’ll get Sean and
Luca. Hurry!”
****
It wasn’t passing.

Luca hopped off the treadmill and

toweled off. Even through his headphones,
the howling winds and constant pinging of
rain on the windows and shingles interrup-
ted his pace. So much for a relaxing jog.

Physical exertion had a glorious habit

of clearing his mind. Usually. But tonight,
his weakened body wanted to do nothing but
rest. He’d pushed himself too hard and felt
the same as he had moments before he
passed out the first time. Being a master of
magic was one thing. Using magic so often
that your spiritual essence was fatigued
enough to present physical manifestations is
something of a whole different order.

200/360

He walked up the stairs as Gregorio

rushed down to meet him. “Stephan called.
There’s a disturbance in the Cemetery Num-
ber Three.” He didn’t waste time changing.
The four hopped in the car and ran every
stop sign on their way. Behind them followed
another group of Luca’s men in a separate
car. One way or another, it had to end today.

****

St. Louis Cemetery No. Three was the

youngest of the major cemeteries, but
“young” doesn’t mean much in this end of
New Orleans. It opened in 1854 and held
claim as the spiritual entryway to Bayou St.
John. The crypts here were among the
largest, most elaborate in the two cities. Fan-
chon Marie, Luca, Gregorio, and Sean had no
trouble getting in due to Luca’s alchemist
touch. He laid his fingers upon the old latch
causing it to disengage seconds later.

201/360

“Let’s go,” Luca said from the front of

the pack.

In the moonlight, the crypts and their

statues cast menacing shadows over the
group. She tried not to shiver, determined
not to be the weak one of the bunch. Instead
she concentrated on Luca. He’d put his cell
phone to his ear and called Stephan, with fi-
nal directions. If everything went well, the
Roma men outside the cemetery would keep
watch to make sure nothing got in or snuck
out. The rain was bone-chilling and miser-
able, making a bad situation worse. With
every clap of thunder, Fanchon Marie
jumped a little closer to Luca. As they went
farther inside though, she’d stop every so of-
ten to investigate a funerary sculpture. She’d
follow, get side tracked, stop, hear thunder,
catch up, and repeat the same routine again.

Luca pulled her from her inspection of

a crypt guarded by two columns almost as
tall as the tree next to it. “Stay close. The

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only reason you are here is to talk to them. I
need you to stay out of trouble.”

“Then you might want to get her away

from them.” Sean thrust his head into their
huddle. He pointed to the two statues next to
the columns in front of the crypt. Small, in-
nocent looking lambs lay curled at the base.
Their heads were tucked in, but each had a
small collar and chain around their necks. “I
thought I saw--well, just stay back.”

The three men exchanged looks but

said nothing more about it as they went
farther into the cemetery. Fanchon Marie
said she sensed magic, but not of any sort
she’d felt before. “This is different.”

“Agreed, magic, but no life.” Gregorio
said.
“Or unlife,” she said. “Not spirits—”
“But something else,” Luca finished.

Sean chimed in as well. “I don’t smell

anything, but I hear movement. None of this
should be possible. What the hell exists that

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Roma can’t feel, a Vodou girl can’t sense, and
a werewolf can’t smell?”

Gregorio shouted, “Get down!”
“Damn that,” Luca said. “Look up!”
There, next to Fanchon Marie, stood a
lamb on the top of a crypt.
“So?”

“Look at it, Sean!” They all did and

gasped in unison. The stone lamb had a col-
lar and chain. Only its face could be viewed
in all its glory. In a demonic twist, powerful
daggers jutted out from the pulled back maw
of the tiny creature. “Mio dio.”

“Did

you

hear

that?

There’s

something moving to our right.”

Her eyes turned to Sean and then to

the direction he’d indicated. There was noth-
ing worth noting, at least not that should see.
Yet she felt…something.

“Sean, keep staring in the direction of

the noise,” Luca said. “Gregorio, put your
back to his and only face the opposite

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direction. Fanchon Marie, get in the center.
Make a triangle. I will form the apex.”

“Good God, cousin. You don’t think—”
“I know.”
She saw Sean jab Luca in the ribs. “Care
to enlighten the rest of us?”

He did, with a little help from his

cousin. They filled her and Sean in on one of
the oldest charms known to the Roma. The
Caedes statua. Pure evil infused in stone.
Until now, he’d shared, he’d had no proof
such a spell could be done. They existed only
in the stories Roma parents told to keep their
children in line. The creatures, once created
could not be controlled under any circum-
stances. They live for a short time, but in
those brief moments have been known to
take out whole villages.

“So we’re dying the night before our

wedding. Nice.”

“I have no intention of letting that

happen, Cara. These things have one flaw:

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they cannot attack while you look at them. It
prevents the caster from dying. Though,
some were unlucky. The point is that
someone put these creatures here to find us
and kill us, but I doubt they stayed behind to
watch it happen. They’re too dangerous,
these things, once animated, can travel faster
than any of us.”

“Yeah, cool story, bro. Skip to the part
about how to kill these things.”
“We don’t, Sean.”
“Excuse me?”

“There is nothing we can do to stop

them. Only time. They cease to exist in the
light of a new day. They can’t get past any
living creature....”

“Nice.”
“Unless the kill it.”
“Well, hell,” Sean added. “Why is it that
every time I see you, I need to have
medical services on standby?”

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Fanchon Marie’s snaked her hands

around his waist. “No problem. We’ll take
turns. Watching two little lambs should
hardly be a problem.”

“I hear more than two little lambs in
that far corner,” the wolf said.
“And I’m looking at a stone angel that
looks like it wants to kill me.”
“What?”

Sean must have turned. Fanchon

Marie heard Luca screaming for him to stop.
Another yell, this one from Sean himself, in-
dicated the advice may have come a bit too
late.

“Aww, come on, man.”
“I told you not to move.”
“From here on out, I’m listening to every
golden word that falls from your
mouth,” Sean said.
“That bad?” Fanchon Marie asked.
“You could say that. You don’t wanna
know what I’m seeing right now.”

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Fanchon Marie rubbed the back of her

hand against Luca’s shoulder, willing him to
do…well…something. The situation was de-
teriorating. When the Rom Baro finally
spoke, his sage advice was less than
appreciated.

“Get comfortable.”
“Comfortable!” three voices screamed.
“Unbelievable. ‘Get comfortable.’ That’s
the best you got?”

“As much as possible. Cara, stay

standing and look around the circle in all dir-
ections. Boys, we are going to sit down. Try
not to move your eyes, but if it happens, well,
hopefully Fanchon Marie will be looking over
your head when it does.” Luca counted to
three, and she felt a whoosh as the other two
men unceremoniously slumped down to the
ground.

“Now Cara, I want you to stay in the

middle of the circle. Keep us awake and keep
us looking. Change your position every so

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often. Sean, your ears are the best warning
system we have. If you hear something, give
her a general direction, and she’ll move in re-
lation to the sound.”

“What if we slip up? Worst case

scenario?”

“A rather painful calcification and

death. If the fairy tales are true anyway. Best
not to muck it up.” Gregorio answered.

“He’s right,” Luca added. “Boys, now

is not the time to play hero. If you get tired,
let Fanchon Marie know. Allow her to take
over your watch for a bit.”

“Honey, weren’t you the one recently

passed out?”

“Twice,” Sean added.
She jabbed a finger in Sean’s back, but

he did have a point. Luca’s body had never
been so abused. She sat behind him, her legs
on either side of his body.

“I mean to lean into you a bit,” he

said. “Twenty minutes, no more. Then you

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take a nap, and you’ll do the same for
Gregorio and Sean. We keep our heads to-
gether, and the morning will come soon
enough.”

****
Three hours later, Luca accepted the

stupidity of that statement. The sun played a
vicious game of hide without the seek. The
constant turning of his head, tennis match
style, left his neck in knots, provided more
fuel for his already splitting head. The
sounds of popping muscles and cracking
backs told him the others shared his misery.
Not that all three of them had been particu-
larly silent about it. They took turns com-
plaining, but he didn’t try to shut them up.
At least he knew they were awake. For a
while anyway.

Fanchon Marie had fallen asleep on

Luca’s back while Sean rambled on about
stupid magic when Gregorio’s pain drenched

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scream caused them all to turn in his
direction.

Bad move.
Several things happened at in rapid

succession. Luca heard the screeching of
rock on stone and turned in time to stop an-
other creature right in its tracks. Less than
an arm’s length away stood a bearded stone
angel with fangs longer than any he’d seen
pop out of Sean’s mouth on the worst of
days. The wolf in question let out a string of
curses as he drew in his legs. Whichever
creatures he’d been watching must have got-
ten a bit too close for comfort. Still, screams
meant no deadly attacks. The problem comes
when the screams stopped.

“Tell me what is happening, Cara

mia.”

“Need a minute, sweetie.”
Gregorio’s screeching made her words

difficult to decipher, but he got the drift.
“You have one minute before I do something

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desperate.” There was a pop, her scream,
Gregorio’s scream, a splash of water, and
nervous laughter. “Talk!”

“I must have fallen asleep, cousin.

It…uh…the damned thing bit me. My leg
started turning gray, but the water. It
worked! Fanchon Marie grabbed the vial
from my neck. Hah!” Luca heard the smack
of a kiss.

“I expect my own vial of that stuff as a
wedding present.”
“You word is law, sweet princess.”
“That’s enough, you two,” Luca inter-
rupted. “Glad you’re not dead, but we
still have a couple of hours to go. No
more mistakes.”

And they weren’t any. Each minute

lapsed into the next one, during which Fan-
chon Marie walked in the circle created by
their backs in regular, ten minute intervals.
There were grunts, but no outward com-
plaints, thank goodness.

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“Shouldn’t be much longer,” he said,

looking towards the purpling sky. Minutes
later, the purple became an intense red,
morphed to orange until finally, yellow gave
way to blue. With the suns ascent, the mo-
tionless statues huffed as if out of breath and
slogged morosely back to their original
places, where they then died.

Of course, that can be tested only one

way.

“Why me?”
Luca slapped Sean on the back. “Wolf,

meet lamb. Lamb, wolf. I swear this oppor-
tunity will never present itself again. So go
on, then. Do it before we make you do it.”

The group stood several feet away,

backs turned, while the sacrificial wolf stood
before the sleeping lamb. “I’m turning
around and...still breathing. Now, screw you
guys. I’m going back to the house. After the
wedding, I hope to never see any of you
again.”

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214/360

Chapter Eleven

“Next come, the stockings.”
Fanchon Marie gulped another glass

of champagne as her mother and sisters
fussed over her. They’d greeted her with
smiles and cheers, having no idea what she’d
been though the previous night. Per Luca’s
instructions, she kept mum on the subject,
allowing everyone to focus on the production
that was her wedding.

“And that gahhhhhterrrr,” her eldest

sister said, extending the word as she shim-
mied the ring of fabric up Fanchon Marie’s
thigh. Fanchon Marie yawned into her fist.
Three short hours ago, she and Luca crawled
into bed. She felt herself dozing off, seconds
after he’d passed out. Two hours later, her
family arrived into town, chests puffed with
the blessed union about to come to pass. She
almost wished the statues had gotten to her
first.

She threw her head against the wall

with a thud as they attacked her with eye
shadow brushes and corsets. Each article of
clothing had to be pronounced, per tradition,
and

by

the

time

they

got

to

the

“veeeiillllll,”Fanchon Marie plotted sorori-
cide. Thank God for champagne. The only
other thing shed had to drink the entire day
was the last half of the vial from the old wo-
man. She quickly pushed all thoughts of her
aside, already way too close to tears.

“Easy now, sis. You don’t want to zig-

zag down the aisle tipsy.” The admonishment
warranted another long swig, followed by a
less than dainty burp. Hmm...maybe she had
taken in too much. In a few minutes, that
was proven painfully true.

She had no warning. One minute she

was nervous and delightfully tipsy, the next
her stomach alternated between seizing and
lurching with the ultimate result being an
upchucking bride in a now ruined dress.

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Cue the tears.
The hive hummed to thunderous

levels as women buzzed around the room.
Some produced charms from hidden pock-
ets. Others flung hexes in her general direc-
tion. In fact, so much residual magic clung to
the air in the nanoseconds after Wedding
Day Hurl Fest that the room sparkled with
florescence purples and blues. It also
squealed -- a high pitched fizzy sound that
threatened to make her ears bleed. Too many
Vodou women working the magic at one time
rarely made a good mix.

“Stand up straight!” another sister

shouted. “We’ll magic that dress clean in
three minutes.”

Fanchon Marie had to shout over the

agreeing women. “No. NO! This is the most
ensorcelled wedding dress of the century.
Luca made sure that it’d be so bound tightly
that no one could enchant it in any way. For
my protection.” That’s when she broke down

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again. “You do anything and the entire build-
ing is liable to blow.”

“Girls, get that dress off of my daugh-

ter now. Move! You, go find another white
dress. And you.” Fanchon Marie heard over
her head. “Go downstairs to tell them we
shall be a little late to the service.”

“No, Mom,” she said between heaving

breaths. “I can’t get married today! I just
can’t.” The events of the past week finally
caught up with her. “You have no idea what
I’ve been through.” Her teeth chattered and
she had to force herself to slow down.
“Everything about this wedding has been out
of my control. You literally threw me to his
family the moment I was born. The guests
are yours and his. The location is the house
I’ll be forced to live in for the rest of my life.”
Though she kinda loved it...and the own-
er...but that wasn’t the point. “I can’t even
have a proper cake because we moved the
date up due some psycho—”

218/360

“Got you pregnant,” her eldest sister

said.

“What? Uh, no.”
Her mother patted her on the back.

“It’s all right, sweetie. Luca explained to us
why the wedding had to be moved ahead so
many months.”

Fanchon Marie said nothing. She

couldn’t. Her jaw had detached itself from
the rest of her face. See? There it was, down
there, on the floor, destroyed by shock.

“We figured a little champagne

wouldn’t hurt. We just didn’t expect you to
go overboard. Anyway, when you say things
about how horrible this wedding is going to
be, I know that there’s hope. Downstairs is a
beautiful man who he cares for you deeply.
He loves you. He’s made it clear to me and
your father that this is more than a simple
binding of families. This is a true binding of
hearts.”

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“I-I just–” She didn’t know what else

she wanted.

“I know you want to marry him. I’m a

mother, dear, and I can tell these things, so
we shall find another dress and—”

“No. The one thing that was mine out

of this entire process is over there.” She
pointed. “Wrapped in a ball of lace and puke.
I tried on a billion dresses before finding that
one, and I’m not getting married without it.
If you all are too chicken shit to tell him that,
I’ll do it myself! Give me that cell phone.”

After bridesmaid number eight lobbed

it into the air, Fanchon Marie’s mother, ap-
parently a secret wide receiver for the Saints,
came out of nowhere for the interception.
“I’ll do the calling.” The woman even held
out her arm, for the perfect block.

“Luca, hi there, son, it’s your new

mama. Oh, well, fine, just fine, although, we
could use your help up here. It seems that
Fanchon Marie is suffering from a bout of

220/360

delirium. If you could please come and talk
some sense into the mother of your child,
that would be fantastic. Oh, nothing wrong,
exactly. She seems to think that she doesn’t
have to get married today. And I...hello?
Hello? Luca?”

The door crashed open two minutes

later.

“May I ask everyone to leave while I

have a moment with my bride?” The polite-
ness in his words didn’t reach his face. Ares
possessed her dark Adonis. Veins in his neck
and vermillion faced screamed while he twis-
ted his massive hands into balls of fury.

So, basically, the room cleared out in
one point seven seconds.
“Fanchon Marie!”
She ran to him. “Stop yelling. Hold me.”

Instantaneously, his voice and de-

meanor changed. “Cara mia?”

“My dress is ruined. I can’t get mar-

ried without it. And, and you told my mother

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that I’m having a baby! How could you make
up such a thing? Honey, I know you want to
handle this Morlena thing on your own but,
couldn’t you tell them the truth? Some
weirdo’s acting crazy and--”

Luca dropped to his knees and planted a
kiss in the center of her torso. “I did tell
the truth.”
“This isn’t funny, Luca!”
“I’ve never been more serious about
anything in my live. This is our family
now.”

Fanchon Marie cursed under her

breath, thinking about the champagne she’d
consumed moments before. “Why didn’t you
tell me? I should have been doing things: vit-
amins, doctors. More importantly, how did
you even know?”

“Callie told me. She’s sensitive to

things like that. Later, Sophie confirmed it.
Back home, the women flocked to her for
such potions and charms.”

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Fanchon Marie put her hands on his
chest, leaned away, and stared up at
him. “Did you make her put something-
-”
“Didn’t need to.” And in his best cave-
man voice, “Have seed, strong like bull.”
“Luca, be serious.”

“Your morning teas have extra herbs

to protect you and the child. It has been
enough for my people for centuries.” Well, it
wouldn’t be enough for. She’d make an ap-
pointment after the ceremony. Another
thought niggled its way into her brain. “Is
this,” she said, holding her belly, “the only
reason you—”

“Finish that and I’ll spank you. Or I

would, if we had time to enjoy it.”

A laugh made its way out of her

throat. “Stop it, Luca.”

“That is why I chose not to tell you

right away. I know a bit about how your little
strange mind works now, and I saw no need

223/360

in having you thinking that our child is the
only reason I married you.”

“Oh no, I know that’s not just it,” she

said. “It’s also the contracts, the key to city,
the—”

Luca dipped his head to kiss the cave

her of neck. “Try, because I want you. Be-
cause I will kill anyone else who touches you.
My original plan was to marry you, get a
child, and then leave you to your own
devices. But now? Now, you have no hope of
every getting out of my sights. I love you, and
I’m loving our family forever.”

Luca undid the first few buttons of his
tuxedo. “I especially love you like this,
half-naked in—”
“I’m half-naked because my dress is
ruined!”
“Fanchon Marie, if this is about a
wrinkle or a misplaced hem—”
“I threw up on it.”

224/360

He said nothing for a long time, but

his laughter came so hard that tears formed
in the corners of his eyes. Finally. “That’s my
little boy in there, looking out for his father.”

“Excuse me?” The man was so wrong

on so many levels.

“All day I’ve been thinking about do-

ing disgusting things to you, just before our
wedding. Now you are here in an amazing
white lingerie getup that—”

“One, I’m dead tired. Two, we don’t

have the time to do anything other than—”

“Mother did the first and last binding

spell on the dress. As a result, she is the only
one with the ability to change it. That will
take some time. Now, get on the bed.”

“Luca, no.”
“Keep your shoes and stockings on. A

little fantasy of mine.” He gathered the dis-
carded dress in his arms and handed it to the
first person on the other side of the door.
“Take this to my mother, explain the

225/360

situation, and bring it back. I need a few
minutes more with my bride.”

He slammed the door right in the

faces of the peering, protesting women be-
fore focusing all his attention on her. “I’m
going to lick you. You’re going to suck me.
I’m going to screw you, and then I’m going to
marry you. You’re going to keep your mouth
shut until you say, ‘I do.’ However, if you feel
the need to groan, scream, or say wicked
little things before then that’s fine.

And how lucky was she that he kept

his promises? Their little interlude didn’t
take long, they did have guests downstairs,
but it was enough and just what she needed
to calm her.

****
“Do you remember the first time we

met?” he asked as he zipped up his pants
twenty minutes later.

She rolled back on the bed and looked

heavenward. “It’s hazy, but I think I can

226/360

piece together a memory of a little, spoiled
prince who walked around with his nose in
the air.”

“No, that was the second time.” Luca

stopped dress to blow a raspberry on her
belly. “The first time we were tiny little
things, and you spoke a language that made
no sense.”

“And yet we played all day. Remem-

ber? They took us all over the place. First the
park then the zoo. You cried because you
wanted the animals to be free. They gave you
pizza to quiet you down, which you promptly
spit out in the middle of the food court.”

Luca stuck out his tongue at the

thought of that long ago moment. “It took
weeks to get that taste out of mouth. Yet here
we are, nearly two decades later. I still hate
American pizza, and you still make no sense.
Ow! Let me finish, woman,” Luca said as he
massaged newly red bite marks on his arm.
“I am trying to say that, I do not mind at all,

227/360

how nonsensical you can me. OWWW! Stop
that! Anyway, my little Alsatian, I could not
be happier. The next time you see me will be
at the end of the altar.”

He planted one more solid kiss and

made his way out. The women swarmed in
for finishing touches, shooting disappointing
glares in the direction he’d gone.

In the rush to make up for lost time,

not everything made it back, exactly as it had
been before. Fanchon Marie’s bird’s nest veil
had been placed on the right, instead of the
left, but she didn’t’ complain. The eye shad-
ow in the crease of her lid took on a more
sultry color than originally intended, but she
liked that, too, and let it go. And the coin,
Luca’s Touching Coin that she’d placed in
her earlier bosom, lay in a corner on the
floor. Her sisters and cousins had dressed
her so quickly, that’s she’d been pinned and
zipped before finally noticing its absence. At
least the dress returned to her in perfect

228/360

condition. With one last backward glance to
the bedroom and the coin, Fanchon Marie
walked down the stairs and out the door to
begin her new life.

****
Luca’s heart lurched into this throat

when he saw her. The woman walking to-
wards him claimed his soul, and the gris gris
she’d given him, warmed in its own magical
delight against his chest. When her father
placed her cupped hand in Luca’s, a sense of
completeness washed over him. He leaned
over to place a premature kiss. It earned him
a round of applause from the guests. “You,
ready?”

“Nervous, but yeah, I think so. It was

a long way down that aisle in these shoes.”

“Cara mia, where were you a few

minutes ago? Have you forgotten already?
You went all the way in those shoes.”

Chuckling officiates, one representing

the Roma and another, the house of Vodou,

229/360

shushed them and opened the ceremony.
Both cultures demanded their own rites be
followed. After they exchanged vows, Fan-
chon Marie and Luca pricked their fingers on
exchanged bits of unleavened bread.

Next, the guests followed the grinning

couple outside for the coup d’état, the snake
dance. The crowd formed a wide circle
around the bride and groom. Luca watched
Fanchon Marie detach a lower portion of her
dress. Shed of the bulky fabric, she grabbed
his hand to walk Luca around the inside edge
of the circle three times. After this customary
greeting of the guests, she led him to a seat
in the center of the gathering.

Drums beat a slow, hypnotizing Afric-

an rhythm whilst Fanchon Marie’s dance
quieted the crowd. Her hips moved slow and
steady while her upper torso kept a faster
time. Perfectly coiffed hair shook off its
small, metallic restraints while she dipped

230/360

and stretched her body. Luca fought off the
urge not to take her right there.

Every move she made pushed him

closer and closer to the edge of sanity. Her
body gyrated, but her eyes remained fixed on
him with promises of a thousand nights of
passion. Luca didn’t fight the urge to wink
back at her. He would enjoy making sure
those promises were kept. Of course, he
made a few silent promises himself. Beyond
the obvious, he also had to get her into one
of the Roma traditional dancing outfits. The
music accelerated, along with her body. She
twirled so fast that the lines of her curves be-
came a blur. Then, without warning, she
stopped and collapsed at Luca’s feet. Agoniz-
ing seconds passed before her arms snaked
up his legs and lifted the rest of her body un-
til her face was flush with his.

“This is payback for our first dinner,”

she whispered.

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His little minx landed in his lap and

with lung rattling exhaustion, curled around
his waist effectively ending the dance. The
audience lost its collective mind. Luca re-
mained in the chair, cradling a collapsed,
sweaty, and trembling Fanchon Marie in his
arms.

Next up, his turn, with one final ritual

before the proper reception could begin. The
one and really true Rom Baro, his father,
stepped to the center of the circle, carrying
what Luca knew to be a full goblet of Sigur
Ros, sweet plum wine made by him and his
mother on the day of their own wedding. The
bottles were only to be opened on the mar-
riages of their sons, it was a treat that all of
them looked forward to.

“May this wedding symbolize the uni-

on of our peoples and our cultures,” the great
king started. “We all know how unconven-
tional it is for both of our peoples to marry
outside our own magical lines, but never was

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there any doubt of a more perfect union.
Foretold by Vodou mambo asogwes and
Roma tellers from the moment of their
births, this day will bring fortune to us all.”

He then turned to face his son and

new chavi. “We welcome you to our family.
This glass holds the wine of the union
between me and my wife. We pass it to you.
Have from us our communion, and as you go
forward, make your own.” The king served
the couple, pouring wine into their mouths,
causing the crowd to again whoop and cheer.

“Now, move you fools. Part the circle

and let not another one be made until a child
is born. Which,” he added with a wink, “I
hear from a very good source that a grandson
is well on his way.”

Luca felt Fanchon Marie try to dig a

hole into his side to jump in. “Give the old
man a break. He’s only done this three times.
He’s already lamenting the fact that he’ll

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only get three more chances. Well, four, if
you count Gregorio.”

Fanchon Marie shook her head. “Seven
sons.”
“We mustn’t forget my two sisters.”
“Don’t you and your ‘strong like bull
seed’ go getting crazy ideas.”
Luca tightened his grip. “It is a little late
to decide you don’t want a family.”
“Family, yes. A full on country of little
Lucas? Not so much.”
“So, fourteen then. Tut, tut, tut, don’t
answer. They’re waiting for us to cut the
cake.”

Fanchon Marie didn’t look to happy

about it. He knew she’d been upset over not
having the cake she’d planned on. He kept
his eyes on her and watched her look change
from one of dignified resignation to un-
checked shock. He turned and felt his own
jaw drop. A nine-tiered monstrosity domin-
ated the table. Each layer alternated between

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a circular and square white cake with a black
damask pattern. Deep red, almost brown/
black confectioner roses cascaded down the
front.

“Perfect!” Fanchon Marie jumped and

clapped like a kid at Christmas. “Oh, Luca,
thank you.”

“I cannot take the credit for this.”

Though he sure wished he thought of it first.
“Judging by Callie’s grin over there, I wager
that she is the responsible party.”

The wolfette worked her way to front

of the crowd and bore a smile wide enough to
make a Cheshire jealous. “Guilty as charged.
Sean knew someone who owed him a favor. I
sorta helped design the thing though. Like
it?”

“How? I mean, you didn’t have any

time at all to pull this off.”

“You’d be amazing at how convincing

I can be,” Sean said. He’d materialized out of
nowhere, as always. Luca nodded his thanks.

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The little shit had done good for once. When
Fanchon Marie’s eyes watered, he’d decided
that Sean had been baptized by her tears. As
far as Luca was concerned, this stunt
brushed a whitewashed paint of forgiveness
over all his crimes.

“Well, pup, you get to live another

day.”

“Oh, I’ll live long enough to piss on

your grave.”

“Sean! Sorry, guys. ” Callie dragged

him off by his ear. The last thing Luca heard
her say was, “Way to ruin a moment,” before
Sean squealed at an unseen assault. He
smiled towards his wife, but she still stared,
crying at the cake.

“Let’s cut it, hmm?”
“Yeah.”
After the wedding cake, they were

meant to go sit at the head table. Fanchon
Marie headed in that direction, but Luca had

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other plans. He led them out to the stage for
the first dance.

“New husband?”
“Yes, new wife?”
“What are you doing? We’re not sup-
posed to do this part yet.”

Luca nodded to the band, who imme-

diately let loose a slow, sensual tune. “I
know, but once we sit at that table, all eyes
will be on us for the rest of the night.”

“So?”
“So, this way, we dance, others will join
in. My people know how to entertain
themselves, so do yours.”
“Again, so?”

“Thus, we are given the chance to exit

unnoticed for a more private celebration of
our fruitful union.” His head lowered to
nibble on her ear.

“Luca! We can’t leave! You’re not

allowed.”

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“Says who?” Righteous indignation

entered his voice. “Really, says who? This is
my city.”

“You love to think you can get away

with anything, don’t you?”

“L’etat c’est moi.” That earned him an

eye roll and an earful.

“If you think, my sweet,” Fanchon

Marie said with a bit too much saccharine.
“That I’m going to miss my wedding, think
again.” He decided to not mention the fact
that a few hours earlier, she wanted to cancel
the whole damned thing. Didn’t seem ter-
ribly wise.

“And if you make one more ear biting,

boob staring, lecherous move on me in front
of all these people, you can forget any love
making for the next two weeks.”

“You can’t be serious.” She couldn’t

be. Not really, but he wasn’t one to chance it.
Instead he tried to concentrate on the dance

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and not the woman pressed against him.
He’d faced easier challenges in life.

By the time the dance ended, just as

he’d predicted, the dance floor filled with
people. His father swept Fanchon Marie in
circles around the outdoor stage, while Luca
was gripped a little too tightly by an old wo-
man with a yellowed, but genuine smile. He
couldn’t tell which had more bristles, a
brush, a broom, or her chin, but the woman
could move. Despite the flaming death of his
plans with this bride, he was enjoying the re-
ception. If this was any indication of his new
life, he’d be a happy man.

He lost sight of Fanchon Marie every

so often, but when he found her, she was al-
most always with her youngest sister,
Gregorio, or Callie. Lord bless that one. His
bride danced with her, yipping and skipping
in wild, frenzied circles amongst the crowd.
He watched them both and smiled. Then
looked up to see Sean doing the same thing.

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And Gregorio.
Hmmm, maybe the little wolf could be

convinced to stay. If, he thought, looking
from one man to the other, the right gentle-
man won.

The party dragged on until the moon

shone high overhead. Everything was heavy
tonight: the food, the singing, and the magic.
It’d been so long since he’d felt so much
power. Had he ever? In one place? It sur-
rounded them all in a tight and pleasantly
warm cocoon. Most spells had been forbid-
den tonight, but he heard of few. Luxitaxia
to strengthen the drink. Eluxios for tiny
sparks of light. There were some he didn’t
know either-- strange words he knew he’d
one day learn from his wife.

“Little brother!”
Luca stopped dancing when Tomas

pressed a mug into his chest. Liquid was in-
side to be sure, but also small beams of light,
shot from one side to the other. “Luxitaxia?”

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“What else? Drink up and come on.

They’re waiting. This is our last night togeth-
er. You know what we must do. Besides, you
want to impress your wife, yes?

Luca downed the cup in one full gulp

and instantly felt the world tip, much to the
delight of a laughing Tomas. He shook his
head to clear it, unsuccessfully, but hobbled
over to the stage the held his waiting broth-
ers. All of them, to a man, played the guitar.
However, each brother also specialized in
another instrument – the kanun, the dar-
buka, fiddle -- Luca’s was his grandfather’s
accordion. The wooden sides of it were inlaid
with gold, silver, and green leaves. It groaned
as he warmed it up, and the crowd stilled. It
was often said that those who’d had the
pleasure of hearing the brothers rarely forgot
and were eager for one of their rare group
performances.

As Luca played on, he shot up a quick

thanks to the powers that everything had

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gone well during his wedding. He sent up an-
other, longer thanks for the happiness he
felt. His family was finally whole. Luca
looked down on the crowd and grinned. On
and on they played to the swaying bodies.
Young children and old men, passed out to-
gether on pillows, benches and beneath
mighty trees. Luca caught Fanchon Marie
yawning several times but the little trooper
marched on, never missing a step or a
chance to smile. He’d let her enjoy the day
until she dropped.

Finally, he and Fanchon Marie were

called again to the center of attention. Time
for the last tradition, The Gifting. They lined
up and each group presented their wedding
presents according to tradition. The Roma
handed the newlyweds envelopes and books
stuffed with cash. As for those representing
the Vodou camp, they presented the couple
with gris gris, knuckle bone dice, and

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yellowed stacks of old charms and recipes for
potions.

“Babe, I’m not sure I can hold my

head up much longer.”

Silently, Luca waved to the crowd,

turned and carried Fanchon Marie out the
gardens and into the house. By the time he
reached his bedroom on the third level of the
house, his wife was completely out. “You
awake?” A light snore sounded as response.
He felt more than a twinge of guilt at that.
Violence, pain, death, and hurt claimed her
life these last few days. She’d been through
so much, and none of it had been her fault.

Gentle arms laid her on the oak bed.

Using light from the smiling moon through
the windows, he started to remove her wed-
ding dress. He left the garter on her thigh
though, and smiled, thinking of how much
he would enjoy removing that when she
woke up.

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“Hey you,” a sleepy voice said. “What

are you grinning about?”

“My nearly naked wife.” Luca kissed

her still flat tummy. It wouldn’t be for much
longer. He delighted in the thought of how
her body would change with his child.
“Thank you for today. For going through
with it. For giving us a chance.”

“Hmmm.... If I’m not careful, I might

really fall in love with you. Best to avoid that
at all costs. So stop talking, put me under the
covers, and hold me while I sleep.”

“And you will dance for me in the

morning?”

Fanchon Marie’s sleepy grin widened.

“I may even be in love with you by then.”

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Chapter Twelve

Oh, she danced for him in the morn-

ing. She also moaned, screamed, clawed,
nibbled, and took them both to the gates of
heaven. Life-long commitment, eh? If this
was prison, she’d happily be chained to the
walls. “I love marriage.” She especially loved
marriage to her husband with the exquisitely
mismatched colored eyes, wicked tongue,
and divine fingers.

The satisfied man lazily lapped at her

nipples. “Yes, the holy state of matrimony
does not suck. Unless asked. May I?”

“Yes, you may. So you don’t mean to

replace me with your new girlfriend?” Fan-
chon Marie raked nonexistent stubble on her
chin to indicate to whom she was referring.

Luca grimaced at the memory and re-

leased the nipple between his teeth with an
exaggerated “pop.” “Ahh yes, her. Jealous?
She is a whole lot of woman, you know.”

“She’s a whole lotta man, too.”
The two burst into laughter. Luca’s

unbound hair grazed the red, Roma wedding
sheets as he tried unsuccessfully to compose
himself. She loved at the look of him like
this. Relaxed, peaceful, beautiful. Between
her and the Morlena, his life had been one
misery after another. She’d do her part to
make it better. “Come here.” Luca leaned in
to shoot her a look that curled her toes. His
eyes made her feel, all at once, sexy, cher-
ished, worshiped, and adored.

“I am the luckiest man in the damned

universe.”

Fanchon Marie felt the head of his re-

cently and hilariously dubbed, magic stick
enter her body for the second time this
morning. He was rougher, more demanding
this time, forcing her to take every inch of
him in. Fingers roughened by guitar strings
and accordions swirled around her most

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sensitive spot, until she cried out in a mix-
ture of pleasure and pain.

Luca flipped her over then, and not

for the first time, Fanchon Marie wondered if
he had a little wolf in him. “More. That’s it,
Fanchon Marie. Mine.”

He certainly growled like he did. And

bit, too. Bit, slapped, ground, pulled. He used
her. It was disgusting, and she loved him for
it.

Didn’t get more Alpha Male than that.
She made a promise to herself to ask
him later.
“Ughhh.”
When she was better able to formulate
whole words.
****
“So, you and the wolves – what’s the
story there?”

Luca’s inky hair spilled over his eyes

as he looked down at her from one shoulder.

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“Callie, I do not hate. Sean, I do not kill be-
cause of her.”

“That’s not what I mean and you

know it. Tell me.” An inquisitive brow
begged for answers.

“Clarify.”
“Tell me about them,” she added with

enough emphasis for a child to catch her real
question. “And your connection to them.”

“Fanchon Marie, what do you know

about the Etruscans?”

She pouted her mouth a bit, trying to

recall ancient history lessons from years ago.
“Well, as best I can remember, they were the
forefathers of Roman culture. According to
legend, descendants of an escaped Prince of
Troy.”

“I see someone paid attention in

school. Very good, and do you know the tale
of Romulus and Remus?”

Fanchon Marie nodded her head,

though uncertainty peppered her face. “Twin

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boys suckled by a she-wolf. But what’s the
connection to the Etruscans?”

“Famous story that one, but history

and legend, both have it altogether wrong.
Those twins were descendants of the last
true Etruscan. Somewhere along the line
though, someone intermarried with the
wolven ones who lived along the Po River,
ones like Sean and Callie, thus, the shape
shifting gene along was passed along.”

It would explain a lot from last night.

Fanchon Marie popped up in the bed, nar-
rowly escaping knocking her own head with
his by millimeters. “So you’re a—”

“Not exactly. That was a long time

ago, Fanchon Marie, though the condition of
‘lycanthropy.’” He added with air quotes. “Is
a bit like magic. Traces of it linger. Never
mind the fact that every few generations
someone would marry a bitch and.” Luca
paused to stare at her.

“And what?”

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“Sorry. Got distracted there. The paral-
lels are—”
That earned him a punch in the chest.
“Oh shut up!”

Luca held up his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. At any rate, the gene that causes
the shift is mostly dormant, though I did
have a cousin once marry a woman who, un-
beknownst to him, carried the trait as well.
This was in the 80’s, but I will never forget it.
He didn’t find out until she had five kids...in
the same day. Every time they cried or
needed a diaper change, they – and I mean
this as literally as any human can – freaked
out. Morphed right there in their cradles.
Wolves in diapers. Creepy stuff.”

She hoped to God he was kidding. She

would have asked, but was interrupted by
Evil Bones. She arrived to bring breakfast in
bed, per Luca’s familial customs. A little
weird when you’re naked with a new hus-
band, but crazy convenient.

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“Good morning, Rom Baro, and to

you, Beluni, good morning. Here’s a hearty
breakfast and I’ve prepared a nutritious tea,
Beluni. You’ll want to have that for the baby.
” She peeked over to Luca. “Oh, I see that
he’s asleep. We’ll have to speak softly as not
to disturb him.”

Asleep? Her head snapped back and

sure enough the fool was laid out and slack
jawed. Sonofabitch.

“Beluni, here’s your tea.”
The old witch had a smile on her face.

Hmph. “Please, Sophie, call me Fanchon
Marie.” She hated formal titles, especially
from her elders, even when that elder was
The Evil One.

“There is no other title for the Rom

Baro’s wife. Tell me, did you sleep well, Be-
luni?” Kindness. From Sophie. Riiiight. Fan-
chon Marie sent up a quick prayer – some-
where, the Seventh Seal was just broken and
the gutters ran red with blood. Absolutely

251/360

skeeved out, Fanchon Marie nodded, unable
to do much else.

“I went ahead and laid out your trav-

eling clothes for today. Also, your luggage is
packed, labeled and ready for your flight.
The tickets are in the zippered side of the
Rom Baro’s carry-on bag. I believe I have
everything, but if you can spare a moment,
Beluni, to give it a look over, we can all be
sure of it. There is nothing worse than being
away from your home without what you
need.”

Bizarro World. Fanchon Marie had to

get her out of there before the woman com-
posed poetry in her honor. “Thank you,
Sophie, we’ll be down in a minute.”

“I am sorry, Beluni. I am. However, I

refuse to leave until you drink the tea for the
baby. That’s our future wrapped up in there.”

Fanchon Marie turned to a possum

playing Luca. A rather shitty possum playing
Luca. Though his eyes were closed, the

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idiot’s lips curved in a foolish little half-
smile. Fanchon Marie threw her pillow at
him before she took the tea Sophie carried.
The woman left as soon as she placed down
the empty teacup. She even inspected it, to
ensure all the contents were gone. “Good,
good, Beluni.”

But Sophie couldn’t leave without one

more weird out. “I want to say, ma’am, that
yesterday gave us a perfect wedding and gave
you a perfect beginning to your new life to-
gether. I’ll just see you off downstairs,” she
said, and slammed the door behind her.

“You can wake up now. What the hell’s
wrong with her?
“You’re my wife.”
“You’re a coward. Here. Bitch probably
laced it with arsenic.”
Luca smiled, but took a sip nonetheless.
“Still alive.”
“Doesn’t work that fast. Drink more.
What time is it?”

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“Nearly time to leave,” he said between
yawns. “C’mon, let’s get us showered.”
****

They were ready an hour later, and

Stephan held the car door of a new Aston
Martin open for Luca and his new wife. It
wasn’t his usual car, perhaps a gift from his
brothers? He’d have to look into it and send
a hell of a thank you card.

“All the securities set up?”
“Yes, Sir.” Stephan said. “Beautiful wed-
ding yesterday.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Luca tapped the
trunk. “This car, where did it come
from?”
“Another wedding gift. Don’t worry. It
checks out.”

Good. He hadn’t expected any trouble

at their destination, his family’s home in the
Alps, but getting from here to there presen-
ted numerous security risks.

254/360

He disliked leaving his city while a

madman ran amok. Still, after a private dis-
cussion with his father, he’d left his family on
high alert, and New Orleans couldn’t be in
safer hands. He, his father, and brothers
would go on the offensive as soon as Luca
and Fanchon Marie returned from their hon-
eymoon. Not all his brothers remained, only
the ones without wives. He didn’t blame the
rest for going. As long as the calendar read
Beltane, the women and children would be
safer out of the area, in case Breznik tried
anything.

He had, however, taken every precau-

tion against it. The wedding guests had been
told to keep the new date secret, though the
reason why remained hidden. He hoped that
it would buy him at least a week away. No, it
hadn’t been the smartest move, but he
wanted to give Fanchon Marie the whole ex-
perience. Like she said, no reason to let
Breznik ruin their new life together.

255/360

Speaking of, his woman had stepped

inside the car when Sophie skittered out the
house. “Sir! Sir! You have a phone call. He
says it’s urgent, that he’d only speak to you.”

“He, who?”
The woman shrugged and gulped for a

breath of air. “Don’t know, Sir. He claimed
that he wasn’t at liberty to say, but that you’d
want to take this call.”

Great. Luca checked the time on his

watch. They would need to leave soon if they
had any prayer of staying on schedule. Priv-
ate plane or not, when you submit your flight
data, the powers that be meant for you to
keep it. On the other hand, this call could
have more than a little to do with the Mor-
lena. Luca raised Fanchon Marie’s delicate
fingers to his lips. “I will be right back.”

When Luca finally made it to the

phone, the person on the other end spoke to
him in drawled out gibberish. Not a hex or

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foreign language, just random mismatched
words. “Hello? Who is this?”

Right about the time the other person

stopped speaking and started laughing was
when Luca heard the squeal of car tires. He
rushed to the window, and the phone fell
from his hands as quickly as the blood
drained from his face.

The car sped off.
What the hell?
Luca ran downstairs. Sophie wailed at

the bottom of the staircase. He’d deal with
her later. If she masterminded this or was in
anyway involved, he intended carve out the
heart of the woman who’d bathed and
swaddled him as a child and he wouldn’t
shed a single tear in the doing of it.

“Please, Rom Baro...Luca, we’ll find her
and—”
“Shut up and get out of my way.” Sophia
didn’t move fast enough. He smashed

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against the door frame as he bowled
pass her.
“I can help. Let me call and—”

He heard the concern and fear in her

voice, but he couldn’t tell if it was for Fan-
chon Marie or her own. He paused at the
front door, turned and threw out one final
word of counsel. “Sit down. Do nothing. If
you’re not here when I get back then I’ll
know. I will find you, and I’ll kill you.”

He tried to calm his pounding heart.

Someone had taken her, there was no other
explanation, and Luca’s only chance in get-
ting her back depended on him being able to
hold it together. Sometime between being an
annoying brat and now, this woman staged a
full on attack and infiltration of his heart.
She belonged to him, and he wasn’t about to
let some twisted freak with a fetish for the
recently reanimated take her away.

Propelled by a dangerously powerful

mix of fear and determination, Luca grabbed

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the tools of his trade: guns, knives, and talis-
mans. Luca ran to his multistory garage soon
after.

“Damn!” Someone beat him to it;

every car he tried to move had been some-
how disabled. The only thing he could suc-
cessfully turn on was a motorcycle stored in
the back of a trailer. Wasting no more time,
he revved the engine and sped off into the
morning.

****
Fanchon Marie knew she was knee

deep in trouble the second Luca disappeared
into the home. Stephan closed the car door
milliseconds later. She tried to reopen it, but
child door locks disabled the mechanism.
After knocking on the window failed to get
his attention, Fanchon Marie called his cell
phone.

“Stephan?

Stephan?

Open

the

door...just until Luca gets back. I’m getting
claustrophobic back here.”

259/360

He didn’t exactly grant her request.

Nope, instead she heard the car come on and
nearly fell back at the speed with which he
took off. Only then did Stephan crack the
window and separated the front of the car
from the back. She could see his sick smile
through the window.

“What kind of game are you trying to

play, Stephan?”

“You haven’t figured it out already?”
The only thing she was trying to figure

out was how to bust his sardonic smile apart
with a few kicks to the face. “Why are you do-
ing this? Luca trusted you!”

He shrugged and winked at her reflec-
tion in the rear view mirror. “They’re
paying me.”
“Wait, this is over money? You’re his
friend. You’re his family.”
“They’re paying me...a lot of money.”

That’s when she snapped. Stephan

rolled up the window, but not before she

260/360

lobbed of a series of fire starting sparks in
his direction.

Fanchon Marie could hear nothing

through the noise proof blackened glass for
several moments. She took the time to come
up with a plan of escape. She hadn’t gotten
far beyond Step One, kill Stephan, before the
air in the back filled up with a throat-
clogging, eye-watering smoke. She tried to
slow its effects but no luck. It didn’t matter
how much she controlled her breaths or de-
creased any sort of physical agitation, her
eyelids took on the weight of bricks as smoke
seeped from the air vents and began to fog
her brain.

When she woke up, her head felt

heavy, nearly impossible to lift. It took sever-
al moments for Fanchon Marie to figure out
where she was. Cramped. Dark. Noisy.
Bumpy. Crap! The little twit had stuffed her
in the trunk of a car!

261/360

The best possible worst situation ever.

Fanchon Marie had seen enough TV movies
and talk show specials to know how to get
out of this. No need for spells and potions,
just guts and determination. Fanchon Marie
ran her hands along the edge of the trunk
until she found a hole in the lining. She
ripped up the fabric, a quick prayer of forti-
tude and tried to punch out one of the rear
lights from the inside.

She couldn’t angle herself enough to

see what went beyond, but the absence of car
horns and other sounds of traffic led her to
believe that he’d chosen to drive on one of
the many Louisiana back roads. Sticking her
hand out to wave at passersby wasn’t going
to be an option. Time to switch to the magic.
Fanchon Marie bit into her hand hard
enough to draw blood. Then she sang. More
hushed than she would have liked, but still
powerful, nonetheless.

262/360

Her song was of need, courage, light,

and hope. A song of marriage and family and
promises to be kept. It was a song that only
one man would be able to hear, Luca. Every
drop of blood that fell from her hand though
the broken glass was another note in her
grand musical composition. If he felt even
the smallest amount of love for her, the ma-
gical melody would be the perfect road map.
Her smile grew. Nothing about that man was
small, not even his love for her. She could
only hope that she hadn’t started it so late
down the path that he couldn’t find the trail.

****
Surrounded by water on three sides,

Luca knew Stephan would head northwest, it
was the only way out of the city with a
screaming woman in your car. At least, that’s
what he was banking on. He couldn’t ima-
gine he or Breznik would be stupid enough to
keep her in New Orleans. Just the same, he
called Gregorio to have only the most

263/360

trustworthy of his men scout out known
Morlena hotbeds in town.

Luca led the motorcycle towards the

back country, more traditional Morlena ter-
ritory, and slowed down only when his ear-
bud sprung to life with a phone call. “Sean, I
want you to take follow a northeasterly
route. Meet me near Highway 10 and Route
1. Call if you catch her scent. Since we have
known each other, you’ve wanted to hear me
beg. Well, now I am. Please.” He didn’t give a
damn about pride right now. He needed her
home and safe.

As much as he hated to do it, Luca

pulled over and waited for Sean and his sens-
itive nose to arrive. It killed him, but he had
his men and the wolves spread in different
directions, and didn’t want to be too far out
when the call came. He didn’t know who
would be on the other end of it: Gregorio,
Sean, Stephan, or Breznik. Luca stroked the

264/360

gun he’d picked up on the way out the house.
Whomever it was, he’d be ready.

Gregorio checked in first.
“Luca, I sent some boys to check out

every inch of his apartment. Stephan’s room
had been cleaned out, and the girl he was
with is dead.” The bastard must have had
something like this planned for a while.
Their extended engagement hadn’t helped
either. “Good news though. In Fanchon Mar-
ie’s bridal quarter, well, we got lucky. I found
your Touching Coin stuck in a pile of clothes
in the corner. At least he can’t use that
against you.”

Lucky for Luca, but it also meant that

Fanchon Marie was without a piece of him
and the small bit of protection within it.
“Thank you, Gregorio. Keep the line open as
much as possible. Call me with regular with
updates.”

Forty-five excruciating minutes later,

the cell phone again.

265/360

Sean. Callie had picked up her scent

between the Maringouin and Atchafalaya
Rivers. Luca turned his bike to cross the
bridge over the Mississippi, to meet them
head on. He avoided major roads to hug the
river as long as he could. Twenty minutes in-
to the ride, he heard a sound so intense he
damn near ran off the road.

Fanchon Marie. Her song. He caught

up with the wolves, moments later.

Callie drove the Jeep while Sean

moved on silent haunches in the back, in
wolf form, nose to the air. Wordlessly and
without any regard for it, Luca ditched his
bike to jump into the empty front passenger
seat. She nodded once then sent the car for-
ward with enough force that the back end
fishtailed.

Each trailed Fanchon Marie their own

way, Sean and Callie with their noses and
Luca with his ears, her powerful song, drag-
ging him closer. They followed the river until

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it broke off into the back country. They took
the vehicle as far as it would go as the paved
roads gave way to gravel ones, then dirt
paths and finally but the desolation of the
swamp.

With a good heading, Luca dialed

Gregorio for reinforcements. “No reception.”
He shook his phone in front of Callie. “You?”

“None for me either. Where the hell

are we, anyway?” she asked. Sean whined
from the back seat, his own special type of
request for an answer.

“Lafayette. Cajun bayou country and

Morlena territory. We are on their grounds
now.”

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Chapter Thirteen

Fanchon Marie’s energy reserves had

long depleted by the time the car came to a
stop. She heard two male voices though the
darkness, but when the trunk opened, three
people stood around her. Only two had
heartbeats.

Stephan, Breznik, and Marguerite

Durand. Each wore a twisted grin and reason
for wanting her here. Stephan had recently
and absolutely made it clear that he didn’t
want a non-blood woman as his Beluni.
Breznik wanted his city and Marguerite?
Well, she probably held the key. It kicked in-
to Fanchon Marie’s head that she must be
the power supply Breznik needed. Torture
only provided the extra kicks and payment
she wanted. Fanchon Marie swallowed hard.
What did the spirit of that sick woman have
in store for her?

“Three against one. That hardly seems

fair.”

Breznik responded with a backhand

across her face strong enough to propel her
backwards into the car. “Oh, I’m not inter-
ested in fairness or parity. No, I’m interested
in getting in that little hot seat of power. So
far, it’s working out for me. In the interest of
full disclosure, here’s what will happen to
you. First, we’ll torture you. Then we’ll kill
you. After that, we’ll torture you some more.
We may torture you forever.”

“It will be a first for me,” Marguerite

said in a voice the sounded like unoiled
gears. “To torture someone in life and then
to do the same in death. Well! I am most cer-
tainly looking forward to it.” The icy specter
floated closer and dragged a pallid hand
across Fanchon Marie’s tear-stained cheeks.
“Yes, cry for me, puppet. You will cry much
more as the hours and decades pass by.”

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She looked around in a desperate

search for any means of escape but came up
empty. She could see no landmarks, streets,
signs, or even homes. Nothing but marsh
and swamp. They drudged though the
muddy slush for at least three and a half
miles. Whenever Fanchon Marie slowed
down or got stuck in the sludge, Breznik
would use a magical spark to administer
shocks of “encouragement” to keep her mov-
ing. Each current of electricity left a new
round of blisters that would take weeks to
heal.

Continuously and without mercy, her

captors kept up this, and their laughter, tor-
ture until they came to a makeshift pier with
a swamp boat tethered to one of its posts.
Keys waited in the ignition. The awkward
machine hummed to life seconds later and
took Fanchon Marie farther into the swamps
of Louisiana.

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She looked around to find herself en-

cased on all sides by true back country.
Places where you only knew your way
around if you owned the land. Anger melted
into desperation, which finally gave way to
hopelessness. With each nautical mile they
put behind them, it would become harder for
Luca to find her and rescue her. Maybe she
should give up. If they somehow took control
her spirit, they could force her to do a
massive amount of damage.

“Careful,” Breznik’s voice said from

the front of the boat. “Don’t get too close to
the edge, princess. Gators would have you
for lunch on the right side of the minutes.”
Breznik needn’t have bothered. Fanchon
Marie knew well the dangers of the swamp.
She also knew she’d been in no real danger of
falling off the boat. He’d only wanted to re-
move any illusions of possible escape routes.

Fanchon Marie cursed herself for us-

ing so much of her energy on weaving a trail

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for Luca. Though to be honest, she wasn’t ex-
actly sure what she could have done with a
full tank of power. Out here in the swamps,
without any of her normal implements and
given her type of magic, she could only hold
off the spirit of Marguerite that floated above
them or control the beasts of the swamp, but
not both at the same time. At least not for
the extended period of time it would take for
her to get a handle on them. Not to mention,
she had two full on Roma men with their
own magic and guns – not exactly good odds.

As the final vestiges of hope slowly

ripped apart, the boat came to rest at a home
on stilts in the middle of the water. She felt
the evil from several yards out. Despite her
odds of survival, Fanchon Marie made a run
for it. She had nowhere to go, but the swamp
or perhaps something inside her, made her
try. She didn’t want to be in that house.

Her attempt was in vain. A snarling

Stephan grabbed Fanchon Marie by the

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throat and dragged her across the splintered
wooden planks into the structure. He cared
nothing for the shards of oak that embedded
itself in her exposed flesh. After a moment,
neither did she. The second her heart
crossed the threshold, it seized for five excru-
ciating beats. That was when Fanchon Marie
knew for certain it was over. She would not
make it out of this house alive.

Her torture began the moment the

door was closed them. Every magical charm
known to the Roma was used against her,
much to the delight of Stephan and Marguer-
ite. Breznik maintained a bored expression;
clearly he was waiting for bigger prey to ar-
rive. A grander show. Fanchon Marie drifted
in and out of consciousness several times
during the evening and into the early hours.
Then the witching hour came, 3:15 in the
morning. It must have been, because Fan-
chon Marie lost the fight.

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She knew the second they killed her. A

coldness swept up her body from her toes
though her internal organs, and she felt each
one shut down in rapid succession. At least
the physical pain was over. One thing they
hadn’t taken away was the peace that came
with a passing. She rode high on a wave of
calm and though her last living action in-
volved tears, they were of joy and
thanksgiving.

She cried in the happiness of finding

short but true love. She cried for uniting a
city, hoping her death would cement the
bond between her Vodou people and Luca’s
Roma against the Morlena Clan. Her final
thoughts were of the family she couldn’t have
on Earth, but the knowledge that she, and
the child she carried, would wait for Luca on
the other side. When his time came, many
years from now, his eternally young family
would be the first in line to greet him. In that

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everlasting instant, Fanchon Marie Cosette
Beltremieux died in peace.

****
Luca knew they were on the right

trail. Although Fanchon Marie’s song had
long stopped, he, Callie, and Sean kept run-
ning into road blocks as they traveled by
stolen boat. Namely, Morlena gunmen need-
ing to be killed. That he left groups of three
or four Roma to fight off a Rom Baro,
showed how little Breznik cared for his
people. Of course Breznik must have known
the day with end with their deaths, but ap-
parently, all he needed was time. Cannon
fodder. Their little lives, distractions for
Luca, gave him that.

This bunch waited for them in the

middle of a swamp on a houseboat. Callie
and Sean exchanged fire with them while
Luca focused on the undead spirit floating
nearby. He knew she must have been here,
but he didn’t expect her this soon.

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“Marguerite Durand. I wish I could

say that I am shocked to see you.”

The bitch emitted throaty laughs as

she commanded them all: Roma soldiers,
spirits, and the reanimated to attack their
powerboat. Under her direction, this assault
lasted much longer than the others. As be-
fore, the Roma soldiers went down fast and
easy under Callie’s well-trained shooting.
The reanimated were harder, but often still
in early stages of confusion and seemed al-
most willing to die. The spirits, however,
were by far the worst and those only he could
handle. It required essence draining magic,
but he was Rom Baro, and it was his job to
do it.

Throughout

each

fight,

Durand

watched but didn’t interfere. She alternated
between laughing at him, congratulating her-
self, and offering all combatants halfhearted
advice. Her form appeared and vanished un-
til the last man from her army, living or

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otherwise, fell. Then she’d drift away and do
it all over again.

She showed up at several points in the

evening to lead her disgusting army and de-
liver

updates

on

Fanchon

Marie’s

“visitation.” He’d maintained his composure
by blocking out her words and only focusing
on her lackeys. It worked well enough, until
her latest visit. This time, her words knocked
him to his knees.

“My dear Rom Baro, you may as well

stop fighting now,” she said. “Fanchon Marie
has joined the...the choir invisible.” His heart
clenched, and he thought he felt the earth
give way beneath him. Tears flowed from his
eyes, but he didn’t try to stop them.

“Would you like to join me? Join her?

You’ll be the most prized horse in my stable.”
Her silky voice turned harsh again as she de-
livered her final orders to this latest group of
fighters. “Kill the dogs, but let him live. I
want to feel him for years to come.”

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Luca’s throat clenched as he lost his

stomach over the edge of the boat. Fanchon
Marie? Gone? It didn’t seem possible. He
screamed into his arm and pummeled his fist
into the side of the boat.

Living without her would be im-

possible, but dying? Would it be so bad? At
least he would spend an eternity with his
Fanche. Over his heartache, he could hear
Sean and Callie calling for his help. More
screaming, but this from the other side of the
water. The wolves’ bullets must have found
homes in two human chests. He didn’t care.
Without Fanchon Marie, he couldn’t find the
will to muster an emotion other than—

“Noooo!” Sean’s scream cut right

through him. It was the sound he’d made
moments ago, and it mirrored his own
breaking heart.

Luca turned to the right to see Callie

lay limp in the wolf’s arms. For the first time
in what must have been years, Sean lost his

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ability to control his form, alternating
between shattered wolf and broken man
every few seconds. When he was able to hold
on to his wolf, Sean jumped from his boat to
theirs and ripped the remaining humans
apart with little regard for his own life. He
stopped for one second to share a look of
shared loss with Luca. It was enough to snap
him out of his own heartbreak.

That’s when Luca became the Rom

Baro he’d already imagined himself to be. On
unsteady feet, he let his devastating torment
fuel his magic. With arms outstretched in
front of him, Luca’s power grew until his skin
burned a bright vermillion. The river cur-
rents swirled like oceanic whirlpools in the
face of his power. When the blasts left his
body, they took out every single spirit along
the river, even ones lost for centuries,
present, but in no way involved with the
fight.

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As the light from his magic died

down, Luca noticed a small powdery orb
traveling across the water at amazing speeds.
It headed directly for him. Sean growled, but
Luca laid a calming hand on the back of his
broken friend. The orb felt like home. It felt
like Fanchon Marie.

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Chapter Fourteen

When Fanchon Marie died, her spirit

jumped from its earthly bindings to find a
permanent, eternal home. Or at least, it
tried. Breznik had other plans. At the mo-
ment of her death, he initiated the splitting
ritual to separate her soul from her spirit.
Without both, Fanchon Marie’s body ceased
to exist. Well, it started to fade anyway. Se-
cond after second, she became less tactile,
more translucent. Her skin, her eyes, her en-
tire essence split between this world and the
next.

Breznik perfected the skill of separa-

tion, Lord knows the man practiced enough,
and Fanchon Marie knew she needed to
move quickly if she had any hope of getting
her life back. She also knew, however, that
he’d been dealing with spirits whose bodies
had been dead for ages, in some cases cen-
turies or longer – spirits whose souls were

long gone. So while this might have been
new and cutting edge stuff for Breznik, this
was old school Vodou for her, and she had a
plan.

Fanchon Marie didn’t fight death

when it came, as so many naturally do. She’d
been prepared for this. Instead, she put her
full energy in holding on to her soul. It
wasn’t easy. Her soul was feisty! That thing
swayed and bucked like an errant star or a
mechanical bull in a cheap bar. She didn’t
care and had no intention of letting go.

“Let me help.” The voice that came to

her was familiar but far removed. It was faint
and stretched like a call from a cell phone
with bad reception.

“Let me help,” the voice said again. “I

told you this would come.”

The old woman! Fanchon Marie

opened a small section of herself that was
quickly exploited, filled with a power not her
own.

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Ophelia. Her name is, or was,

Ophelia. She knew the totality of her. In that
one second, she saw an eternity of the wo-
man’s life. The fullness of it. And its death.
Fanchon Marie’s heart wrenched at what she
saw.

“I am free now, and you must fight.

You will live, and I will go.”

A burst of something unknown gave

her the power and skill to wrest her soul to
her. The hot second she got it under control,
she filled her displaced mind with thoughts
of Luca and willed her new form to take her
to him.

It did.
She filled her mind with a prayer of

thanks to Miss Ophelia, but no one
answered. The woman was– separated from
her, forever. Her last mission on Earth com-
plete, whatever had been left of her simply
ceased to exist.

****

283/360

Luca slipped on the blood-soaked

deck of the boat in an attempt to grab hold of
the small ball of energy. It was a tiny thing,
no bigger than a marble, but it held his
whole world. All the cold and loss he felt dis-
sipated as the marble expanded to baseball
then beach ball and finally human size.

“Fanchon Marie!” Luca threw his

arms around her but only succeeded in hug-
ging himself. His hands passed right through
her spiritual form.

“Well, that’s weird. What’s it feel like?

Gross, right? Am I gooey? I’m gooey, yeah?”

Luca didn’t know what to feel. Within

the span of a few hours, his brand new wife
had

been

kidnapped,

killed,

reanim-

ated...sorta and was joking about it? “Are
you insane?”

“It’s okay Luca. I’m dead, not dead.

There’s a difference. I guess. Look, we can fix
this, but we don’t have much time.”

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“How? I’m confused, Cara. Happy,

but confused.” His little blue sparkling wife
rolled her eyes.

“It’s pretty simple really. Probably.

Just get my body back from the evil bad guy
and the psycho dead woman who can prob-
ably see us coming a mile away. That’s it.”

“That’s it, huh?”
“It’s the only way. As long as I’m in

this form, I have control of my soul. It means
that Breznik can’t have my spirit and can’t
control me. I…oh, Callie.”

Back in human form, Sean brought

over Callie’s body, cradled tenderly in his
arms. “Fanchon Marie?” Luca had forgotten
about them both. He watched as Fanchon
Marie’s soul burst into a warm purple. “It’s
all right, Sean. I can’t feel her here. I don’t
think it’s her time yet.”

Hope returned to the naked man’s

redden, swollen eyes. “I have to take care of
her. She’s all I have. I’m sorry, Fanchon

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Marie, but I need to get her out of here. I
wish I could help but–” “Luca, I’m sorry,” he
said, but he’d already turned away towards
the first boat.

Luca nodded his head in understand-

ing at the man’s back. As much as he needed
the extra help, he knew that Sean’s priorities
were elsewhere. “Go back to house. If you
pass the others along the way, tell them the
direction we’re heading. Trust only my father
and Gregorio completely!” Luca had to shout
out the last bit of his sentence. Sean had
nearly propelled the boat out of view by then.

He turned back to Fanchon Marie,

burning tears welling up in his eyes. Luca
ached with not being able to hold her, but he
hadn’t planned on this being a permanent
situation. “So as long as you have a soul, he
can’t control your spirit. This is good, right?”

“It is.”
“But, I heard an unspoken but back

there.”

286/360

Fanchon Marie sighed...well sighed as

much a bodiless, airless soul could do.
“There are several buts. First, only a soul OR
a spirit can exist after death, not both for
very long. Secondly, a spirit can exist indef-
initely. It’s not pretty, but we’ve both seen
that it’s possible. A soul however, not so
much. We’ve basically got to find that body –
my body – while it’s still some good. Other-
wise I’m toast. Which leads us to problem
three.”

“There’s a number three?” As if this

wasn’t impossible enough already.

Fanchon Marie threw iridescent, agit-

ated arms in the air. “Do we have a choice?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer. Typ-
ical. “Third problem, I can’t take on another
human form, Luca. It’s either my body or no
body at all. As long as the soul survives, it’s
in a sort of state of stasis. Helluva way to
start a marriage.”

287/360

A humorless smile eased its way onto

Luca’s face. “We will get through this you
know. I shall save the day. That’s what we
good looking, hero types do.”

“I know you will, baby.” Fanchon

Marie rocked back on her heels...which
didn’t seem to touch the floor. “So? You
ready?”

288/360

Chapter Fifteen

They weren’t ready. Nowhere near

close to being ready. As much as Luca would
have loved to charge off after Breznik, they
couldn’t leave their spot. He had to make
contact with Gregorio and the only way to do
that, in the absence of cell phone towers, was
to meet him at one place along the river he
knew Gregorio would have to pass. Assum-
ing, of course, Sean bothered to pass on the
message. Not only would it increase the
mileage they could cover in search of the
body, but even the Rom Baro need to discuss
the marimé issue, if he could hope for a pos-
itive resolution. Roma, the world over,
viewed dead bodies, or nearly dead bodies as
being too unclean to touch without prevent-
ative cleansing rituals performed by the Rom
Baro. Basically, he needed to make sure that
if they found Fanchon Marie’s body first,

they’d be willing to bring it back instead of
destroying it.

They took watch in shifts. Souls didn’t

need sleep per se, but they also didn’t need
to waste their energy. Similar to spirits, they
had a finite cache to pull from. Unlike spirits
though, they did not have the ability to si-
phon off additional sources from humans.

Luca’s back knotted up as he slunk

against the side of the boat. His reserves,
physical, mental, and magical were at peril-
ous lows. Adrenaline and love provided most
of his energy, but if he intended to take
Breznik head on, he needed to refuel. Luca
rested his head on a deflated life vest
fastened to the side of the boat. He moved
until he was as close to Fanchon Marie as he
could get without touching her.

His desires were torn. He wanted to

stay up and stare at her, make sure she didn’t
fade away in the night, but he also knew that
he was more useful to her if he got some

290/360

sleep. Reason won out, though he spent most
of night tossing and turning. Every time he
woke, he turned to face a soothing, pulsating
florescent blue smile. Only then could he
find peace for another few moments.

“You are beautiful, you know. Even like
this.”
“What? Blue?”
“Hmm. Blue. You were purple a few
minutes ago – that was pretty hot. Think
you could pull of a red?”

Their falsely cheerful banter helped

him make it through the night. He suspected
it did the same for her. Yeah, it seemed too
lighthearted and perhaps sophomoric, but at
the end of the world, what else was there? If
this was it, he wanted every moment with his
woman to be spectacular. They talked about
their first meetings together, the wedding
the--

“Mio Dio! Fanchon Marie, our baby?

Is he—”

291/360

“He? Says who? Maybe it’s a she,” she

teased. “Although, I do know now. I saw h--I
saw our child, and everything’s fine. I left so
quickly that our baby went right into stasis.”
Fanchon Marie’s colors faded to a dull gray.
“I hate that I’m not there, but I can’t risk re-
turning to my body while Breznik’s around.
He doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. In
fact, he has no clue. Souls are new to him
and as long as he’s not sure if I’m in there or
not, he’s going to keep my body close. I’m his
bargaining chip. I’m pretty sure his whole
plan hinged on being able control me like
those spirits he’s been using against us. Now,
he’s working on the fly.”

Discussion over Breznik’s plans ended

under an incoming hail of gunfire. “Get
down!” she shouted over the noise, but Luca
was too busy releasing the safety to respond.
He saw anywhere from fifteen to eighteen
men— grossly outnumbered. They scrambled
up to the captain’s deck. Luca and Fanchon

292/360

Marie made another unsuccessful attempt at
a kiss then went after their respective
targets.

“I need to save as much of my reserves
for Breznik. Can you hold a gun, Fan-
chon Marie?”
“Now? Now is the time you turn Mr.
Misogynist Pig? Really, Luca, just be-
cause I’m a woman doesn’t mean I—”
“Can you hold a gun as a sticky, see thru,
non-tactile entity, Fanchon Marie?
Jesus.”
“Oh.”
Turns out she could. “Listen, shoot if
you have to, otherwise, let them get as
close as possible.”
“Why?”

Really? “Would you please just do

what I say for once!” Luca worked on recre-
ating a base of energy. One by one, he shut
down all of his primary senses until he could
only

feel

the

metal

of

their

guns

293/360

approaching. He tried to outline them in his
brain, matching relative locations with ma-
terials. Each weapon became a sketch in his
mind, recreated like a digital copy. Each im-
age was mentally placed together with the
others until he had a full on alchemist’s map,
a blueprint, of their firearms.

“They’re right here, Luca!”
Perfect. The map in his mind glowed

to life as all the guns came into his magical
range. In rapid succession, each one turned
on its owner, firing one, point blank kill shot.
As much as they didn’t deserve it, Luca did a
quick patrin for death for each man, ensur-
ing a final peace. No need to give Breznik
anymore people to bring back.

After the final rites, he kicked,

pushed, and shoved each body overboard.
“We just brought us some time, but not
much.” Two hours later, his words were
proven true. A new batch of fighters arrived,

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this time composed of the living and undead.
Great.

“Fanchon Marie, I’m going to need

you to send those spirits back to the Praio
Tem.” He double checked his ammunition
then threw what he hoped to be a comforting
wink. “I will handle the ones who are still
breathing – make that condition a temporary
one.” He knew which one to start with –
Stephan. The little bastard had the nerve to
wave from the bow of the ship.

Luca returned the gesture with a vol-

ley of gunfire.

“What? You’re surprised?” He heard

still hidden Stephan yell, “You had to have
seen this coming! Is it a long, drawn out
story that I need to explain to you?”

Luca cocked his weapon. “Make it a

short one.”

“How did you expect us to react?”

Stephan near frothed at the mouth in rage.

295/360

“Our people demand purity as they have for
centuries!”

“Trying to make excuses now? Huh?”

Luca sent over another few rounds of bullets.
“What’s wrong? Things not exactly working
out for you?”

“Oh, I’d say I’m in a little better shape

than you...and certainly our little mixed
blood Beluni over there. Speaking of, hello,
Fanchon Marie. I’ve been kicking you in the
face all night.”

Luca heard her shout “Go to hell!” But

she wasted no more time on Stephan and put
her full attention the spirits that had arrived
with him.

“Well, at least she’s still go spirit. Get

it?” Stephan doubled over at his own twisted
joke. Luca jumped at the opportunity. After
narrowing his eyes in focus, he tried to see
into the inner workings of their weapons
again.

Stephan

guessed

his

moves

immediately.

296/360

“Sorry to disappoint you, my dear

Rom Baro, but I’ve been with you for years.
Don’t you think I’d know better than to bring
a metal gun with me?” He touched his head
with the barrel, as if to indicate his
intelligence.

“Yep,” Luca responded. “But he

doesn’t.” Luca pointed to the man standing
on Stephan’s right in the same instant that
he twisted the man’s gun towards Stephan
and pulled the trigger. Good riddance,
though Luca’s relief didn’t last long. Fanchon
Marie called his name. It sounded weaker
than he’d ever heard.

“There are too many of them. I need

help.” Her once vibrant neon lights bleached
out to pale pastels. She was fading fast and
without a body nearby, her own body, he
could lose her forever. Time for the big guns,
metaphorically speaking. Luca directed his
concentration now to their boat. Plexiglass,
damn! Mostly useless, though he could do

297/360

something about that motor. He didn’t have
time to get it fully outlined. It was a complic-
ated piece of machinery, but he managed
enough to know where to attack. It was a
huge gamble, but if his plan worked, he
could buy him and Fanchon Marie a few
hours rest.

Luca sent his last bit of strength into

the catalytic converter, causing an explosion
that ignited the gas line and sent the boat in-
to hundreds of pieces at the bottom of the
swamp.

The last thing that Luca saw was Fan-

chon Marie’s flickering light. The spirits still
attacked. He shot his last bit of energy
against them and prayed it’d be enough. He
didn’t know for sure, though, the world star-
ted to spin seconds later. Weak fingers
rubbed the gris-gris around his neck. He
should have been long dead, but Fanchon’s
magic kept his heart beating.

298/360

299/360

Chapter Sixteen

Fanchon Marie tried helplessly to

hold Luca, but as before, could do nothing
more than a dry sob over his unconscious
body. Metal? No problem, but touching the
man who controlled it? How long until she
could do that again? She needed to get him
out of here. Breznik clearly knew their exact
location and would continue to send
attackers.

Though running only on fuel and guts,

Fanchon Marie placed what she hoped to be
an effective cloaking spell over their own ves-
sel. It wouldn’t hold. The ship was simply too
big, and she was too weak. Carefully, she
maneuvered their boat around the burning
wreck and directed it into one of the many
watery offshoots of the river. It wouldn’t be
enough to protect them from well-trained
supernatural eyes, but at least it would give

them some shelter from any more humans
Breznik decided to send out.

It took Luca several hours to recover,

during that time, Fanchon Marie was lucky
enough to avoid detection and further at-
tacks. She had a few close calls. Twice, spirits
drifted towards the edge of her protective
circle, perhaps sensing something, but un-
able to see them inside. A little dollop of
hope took root in her chest. Maybe this thing
would be over soon than they expected – one
way or another.

Luca’s murmuring signaled his re-

turning strength. She tried to touch him, but
as before, anything organic passed right
though her. His eyes fluttered open in time
to see her pull back her hand. His look said it
all. Like her, the only thing he wanted in that
moment was to have some sort of real con-
tact, something beyond words. A touch, a
hug, a hand to hold.

“It will all work out, Fanchon Marie.”

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She could hear the doubt in his voice.

She knew he said it for himself, as much as
for her. The truth was they had no idea how
much time they’d have left together. She’d
expelled a mountain of energy in the fight,
and her days were shorter than they would
have been under normal...well...normal soul
escaping circumstances.

With smiles the only thing they could

share, Fanchon Marie watched him dig up
some crawfish to eat. Raw. Nothing tasty but
he needed the protein if he was to keep fight-
ing for her.

They’d all fought for her. Gregorio,

Callie, and even Sean and the rest were
somewhere struggling for her return or hurt-
ing because of it. She’d be damned if she’d let
them sacrifice all that for nothing.

“Damn straight it will.”
She’d prove it in the new few minutes.
Something came from the heart of the
bayou – an evil.

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“Luca, it’s Marguerite. I think she’s on
the move and heading towards us. We
don’t have much time.”
“How many are with her? Living or
whatever?”

Fanchon Marie crossed her arms and

tapped pearlescent fingers. “I can’t really tell.
It’s strange, Luca. It feels like so many.” She
sighed in confusion. “It’s just her. I don’t get
it.”

It was only when Marguerite’s form

appeared on the horizon that full knowledge
of the situation took shape. Marguerite
hadn’t been in the room at the moment of
Fanchon Marie’s separation. And when she
first arrived to Luca on the boat, Marguerite
had escaped seconds before. In fact, this was
the first time Fanchon Marie got to view
Marguerite though her new eyes. Fanchon
Marie smiled and dipped her head so that
the approaching form couldn’t see.

Fanchon Marie knew her secret.

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Fanchon Marie knew how to defeat

them.

Yet Fanchon Marie couldn’t say a

word. The bitch was within earshot. And the
bitch was gonna go down. Today...as soon as
she could freely speak to Luca. She “touched”
him with her cold essence and made a face.
He made no indications that he understood.
Marguerite was here.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the happy

couple.” Craziness or sarcasm? She didn’t of-
fer time to reflect. “I trust the honeymoon
has been memorable so far? Not too stress-
ful, I hope.”

Luca popped open his mouth, but

Marguerite shushed him to silence. “I’m only
here to help. Please, don’t be so cross with
me.” If Fanchon Marie had a body, she’d suf-
focate on the saccharine.

“You see,” Marguerite said, “I haven’t

come alone. I’ve come with an offer – a way

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to end all this. Breznik is willing to offer an
exchange, his life for your body.”

Hah! She was crazy if she thought
Luca—
“I agree.”
Wait. What? “No, Luca!”

“I agree to your terms.” He continued

as if she hadn’t spoken at all. Luca shifted his
position to stand closer to Fanchon Marie.
“However, before any exchange is com-
pleted, I will need proof that her body is
well.”

“Yes, of course. We’d figured as much,

though it wounds that you can’t take us at
our word. You may not agree with our meth-
ods, but we are people of honor,” Marguerite
said.

“Whatever.” Luca nodded. “I want the

body delivered to my home or at least neut-
ral territory where my men will be stationed.
I need assurances that you do not intend kill
her as soon as her soul returns.” Luca turned

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away in a clear as glass dismissal. “Tell your
master my terms. We will await your return.”

The entity lurched away, but not be-

fore its face scrunched up at the term “mas-
ter.” With a huff, she pivoted in the sky leav-
ing Luca alone with Fanchon Marie. “Why?”
she asked him. “Why give up your life?”

“Cara mia, haven’t you figured out

that I am completely in love you? How much
longer will it take to get through your skull?”
She had, sort of. Loving something new and
loving something enough to give up your life
were two entirely different things. Maybe she
had to hear it. Who knows, but damn it felt
good to be loved. If her hunch was right,
she’d spend a lifetime loving him right back.

“You don’t have to do this, Luca.”
“Honey, the proper response to

someone abandoning his life in favor for
your own is I love you, too.”

“I love you, too, but I meant what I

said. You don’t have to do this. There’s

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another way. Well,” she rushed out, “I mean,
I think there is.”

A little light of hope turned his face. “I

am not very much in favor of death, Cara, so
come out with it.”

“It’s Marguerite. She’s able to hold on

to some of the spirits. It’s as if they are at-
tached to her. If we can somehow remove
them, then maybe—”

“She’s the key,” Luca said, punching

the air. “She is the nutting conduit! No won-
der Breznik could raise so many without loss
of all his strength. He only needed to raise
one.”

“The right one. One crazy enough in

life to be a fervent partner in death. The
man’s insane and powerful. A damned
lunatic.”

“That’s the problem. He’s a brilliant

damned lunatic. Who the fuck knows what
he means to do next? What we can do is re-
lieve him of his ammo: Marguerite. We cut

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her off. We can move against Breznik
without him able to see us coming. We’ll take
another few moments, an hour at most to re-
plenish ourselves. We are about to crack
open the proverbial can of whip ass.”

****
They rested long enough for the new

sun to rise in the sky. Sometime in the night,
the ship broke free of his bindings, drifting
them a bit off course. In the absence of a
moon, all he could do last night was to reset
the anchor. Once his body stopped tingling,
he would see if he could find his way back.

Luca felt the powerful sphere bathe

his skin, and watched its power cascade
around him. He prayed for one, one mil-
lionth of its strength. Today, one way or an-
other, his life would be decided. Either he
would be with Fanchon Marie in life or, if
things went completely in the shitter, then at
least in the Prio Tem.

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He focused on that a moment, the af-

terlife. Never really something the Roma
looked forward to. Less of a reward and
more a punishment, but with Fanchon Mar-
ie, he would learn to manage. Luca dared to
steal a moment’s glance right into the sun.
Would this be his last chance to see it rise?

Or maybe he could pull her with him.

If her plan didn’t work, could he really be un-
selfish enough to wait for her alone on this
side of life. Both living or both dead.

“Damn you, Breznik.” He shouldn’t

have to worry about the Prio Tem. What he
wanted was this life. This sunrise and future
ones. With her. Touching her, loving her,
having a glass of wine at night and a morning
espresso with her. His hopes became his ar-
mor. Luca girded himself with images of
their unborn child in her arms and of strolls
down the streets they would rule together. As
for his final vision? He saw them going to the
Prio Tem together, old and wizened, with

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faces gnarled and wrinkled from too much
laughter and smiles. Later, not now. This
was their time to live.

Luca opened his eyes to see the rays of

the sun play on the morning dew. Droplets of
water shivered and twisted on the plants, the
reflections of light mesmerizing Luca.

A lot.
He craned his neck towards the

shoreline. Could it be? Luca leaned over the
edge of the boat, to get as close as he could to
the vegetation without falling over.

Wonder colored Fanchon Marie’s

voice. “You feel it, too? What is it?”

“There are nodes of magic here. Old

and powerful magic that I can feel, but not
access. Earth magic. Like mine, but I can’t
use it.”

“How old exactly?”
Luca looked at her with clenched jaw
and

strained

expectancy.

“Half

a

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millennium or more. Why? Why does
this matter?”
“It’s everything. Land is power right?
And we’re united now.”
“So.”

“So, no one ran these lands half a mil-

lennium ago but my mother’s ancestors, the
Bayougoulas and the Houmas. The two
tribes hadn’t yet been pushed out by the
European settlers. As long as no one else has
claimed this small patch of swamp....” Fan-
chon Marie’s words drifted off as she closed
her eyes. “It’s mine. My magic.” She changed
color again, as quickly as a jellyfish that
bobbed on the water. “That’s impossible.”

“Improbable, but not impossible,” he

said.

“Let me try something. Just hold on.”

He’d been so caught up in her that he hadn’t
noticed the little thing growing in the pit of
his stomach. A small kernel of something
took root and the pain it caused made it

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impossible for Luca to push it aside. “Fan-
chon Marie! What the hell?”

The pain stopped as her yips started.
“I can’t take any power from you,

Luca, but I can sure as hell transfer it. Just
like Marguerite. Hah!”

Well, slightly different. A little less

evil. He let it go. “It’ll give us an extra boost
but not much. The nodes are stronger here,
but get weaker further out,” she said, point-
ing to a nearby tree. No surprise there. Con-
tracts, treaties, titles, bills of sale, and squat-
ters rights in the back country often meant
that policies of land ownership were best
sided to the person with the most will to take
it. This land out here was essentially worth-
less to most people. If shady contracts, done
by long dead shoddy surveyors left a few feet
of unclaimed range, fine by him.

She soaked it all in the, the blood of

her ancestors: Indians and perhaps runaway

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slaves who lived and died her, poured latent
energy into her.

“Fanchon Marie, I need you to sum-

mon Marguerite now. We’ll agree to an ex-
change and then—”

“Zap the bitch.”
That’s my girl. “Yes, but not immedi-

ately. We do that, and Breznik will have too
much of a head start. If even one of her spir-
its is around him, well, I think he would no-
tice its sudden absence. Just wait for my
signal.”

All powered up, so to speak, Fanchon

Marie drifted high above the boat to issue a
peace splintering wail. Not too long after,
Marguerite arrived in a burst of smoke. Ever
the drama queen.

“Speak of the devil, and she shall

appear.”

“You give yourself too much credit,”

Luca drawled out. “We agree to the ex-
change. Try to hold in your delight.”

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An impossibility. The woman’s eyes

flashed a dangerous green as she flittered
around the rickety vessel. “Ahh, love. It is
without question my favorite weakness.”

Woman, you have no idea.
Luca turned the boat to follow Mar-

guerite. He hated the feel of the weakening
power nodes as he pulled away, but wouldn’t
look a gift horse in the mouth. In circum-
stances like these, you take what you can get.
Fanchon Marie must have sensed his con-
cern. A gentle pulse was sent in his direction
– not enough to do anything other than si-
lently scream. “I’m here!”

Moments later a small, stilted home

came into view. Its yellow wooden siding
offered glorious juxtaposition to the dark
magic happening inside. The planks from the
pier to the door creaked under Luca’s weight,
though he couldn’t tell if it was in warning or
complaint. They passed a series of canisters.
Gas containers for the boats, perhaps? Luca

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darted his eyes towards his wife. Her look
matched his.

“That’s close enough.”
Breznik. The bearded man stood

guard over the home, flanked by soldiers in
various degrees of life. Equal opportunity
employer. “You know, we’ve had to deal with
your people all day? In the cities, in the
swamps. It’s heartening to see the love a
people have for their Rom Baro. You father
and brothers especially. I’ll enjoy making
them belong to me.”

He had no idea of he was telling the

truth or just trying to get a rise out of him,
but Luca could not allow himself to lose con-
trol. One catastrophe at a time. “We need to
see the body Breznik. No body, no deal.”

“Don’t dictate to me. We’ll do this on

my terms. You two get over there and cuff
him! Use the plastic ties. We wouldn’t want
our dear alchemist to try any more tricks.”

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Oh, but the alchemist already had.

Without a backward glance, Luca twisted the
valves of the gas canisters. Fanchon Marie’s
eyes were forward looking too, scanning
every sector of the room for her body. “You
moved it. Where is it? Show me!”

Breznik nodded to a tied up and blood

soaked bundle under the table. “You’ll for-
give me. In my anger at your escape, I may
have mussed up your face and broken a rib
or two. Boys, unwrap her.”

The cords in Luca’s neck tightened as

they unfurled the rug that held his wife’s
body and dumped its contents unceremoni-
ously in a heap. Only the wall stopped the
body from its continued momentum pro-
pelled rolling. He smothered any thoughts of
killing Breznik. He’d never die. No, Luca in-
tended to keep him alive and in constant
pain for many years.

The orb that was his wife threw her

power into Breznik. All that power would

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have consumed any human instantaneously.
If the person really existed. This Breznik did
not.

The Convexer, the real Breznik, ap-

peared in the doorway. “My apologies, Be-
luni.” He removed his wide brimmed farm-
er’s hat to bow deeply. “But, what are a few
ribs between friends?”

Then all sorts of hell broke loose.
Fanchon Marie flashed a fiery orange,

and he saw her push her energy, not into
Breznik, but into Marguerite as planned. It
wasn’t enough.

“Get them!” Breznik screamed.
“Now, Fanchon Marie!” A tidal wave

of energy slammed into Luca with enough
force to throw in into the wall. He grinned.
The source was Fanchon Marie. Luca poured
all the additional power on Marguerite. The
creature shrieked in pain before it exploded
into miniscule pieces. In the next seconds,
their fighting force was halved as the undead

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creatures and spirits once under Morlena
command, disappeared into nothingness.

Luca braced for an attack as he felt

someone rush up behind him. When it didn’t
come, he turned his neck to see a very hu-
man and fleshy Fanchon Marie standing
back to back with him, throwing out hexes to
the last Morlena Roma in rapid succession.

Luca made a run for Breznik. The

coward had already made it out the door and
stood on the edge of the pier readying to
jump into the boat. Once inside he shot
wildly from its stern. A stray bullet landed on
an open gas container and set off a small det-
onation that knocked both men down where
they stood.

They recovered within seconds of each
other. Luca raised his own gun, but an
all too happy Breznik held up a be-
jeweled hand.
“Why the smile, Morlena? You are about
to pay for your sins.”

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“I still have something of yours,”
Breznik said in a high, sing-song voice.
Fanchon Marie slid her hand into his.
“He has all he needs.”
“Oh, well then there’s no point to keep
young Gregorio alive.”
Damn!
“What do you want, Breznik?”

“You know exactly what I want,” he

said, punctuating each word with a first
pounded into the boat’s guardrail. “And you
will meet with me to discuss the terms of you
turning over the city to me. Is he worth a city
to you? Worth a bended knee? Think about it
and meet me—”

“Any reason I shouldn’t just kill you

right now? From the looks of it, I have the
upper hand.”

“Do you? You think I hadn’t planned

for your youthful impatience? Listen closely,
boy. If you don’t show up at my home in
Baton Rouge, they will kill your Gregorio. If

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you show up with an army, they will also kill
your Gregorio. You have up to forty-eight
hours to make up your mind. Let’s be honest
though, from where I stand, your options are
rather limited.”

Breznik sped away in his powerboat

while Luca’s Fanchon Marie, real, whole, hu-
man, and soul attached, melted in his arms.
“I’ve needed to do this since you were taken
from me.” Luca dipped his head to place
feathery kisses along every inch of her face.
“How are you? Is there very much pain?” She
looked to be in misery. “Did they...did they
hurt you anywhere else?” Luca’s hands
curled into fists at the thought of it.

“No, love, not that. Just chest, my

sides, my face. They’ll heal. But emotionally?
Let’s just say that it’s an odd feeling to see
your body bundled up in a heap on the
ground below you. I don’t advise it anytime
soon.”

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Luca tried to kiss every physical

bruise away. The others, he knew, would
take some time. “Nothing will ever happen to
you again.”

“You can’t promise that, Luca.”
The hell he couldn’t.
“But,” she continued, “at least I know
that you’ll always be there to save me.”

321/360

Chapter Seventeen

He led Fanchon Marie back into

Breznik’s boat house hoping to find some
clues, maps, notes, anything that would help
them out. They found little and nothing of
importance. A few scraps of torn paper with
scribbled hexes, a box of tools for curses, and
a small bag of random jewels and buttons.
More than likely they came from the recently
reanimated bodies. Luca let them fall.

The room had little in the way of dec-

oration, better to say none at all. Some
chairs, a canoe in the rafters, three small
card tables and a couple of mattresses
thrown along the wall.

Nothing. Well, almost.
“Jackpot!” Fanchon Marie sped over

to Luca. “A sat phone. Should work any-
where.” Fanchon Marie gave him the phone.
“But who to call?”

Good question. No one was close

enough to be of immediate assistance. Per
Breznik'’s own words, though admittedly un-
trustworthy, his parents and relatives had
been captured or at the very least watched.
Her family, per tradition, left town the night
of the wedding and wouldn’t be able to re-
turn in time to help. Besides, Breznik made it
perfectly clear he wanted Luca and Fanchon
Marie to show up alone. Not that he cared to
bring a whole lot of people and anyway, but
Breznik would be able to sense an army of
magic infused persons from a mile off. Then
there was the issue of trust. Given Stephan’s
earlier betrayal, he couldn’t be sure who to
call in his own household, besides the kid-
napped Gregorio, for help. For all intents
and purposes, he was alone.

Unless....
Luca grabbed the phone and started

to dial. There was one creature that Breznik
wouldn’t be able to track as easily. If only he

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could convince him to help. “Hello? Sean? I
need you again.”

He got what he expected. Luca closed

the phone. “The pleasant version is that he
said ‘no’ and wished me luck.”

“What? He can’t abandon us,” she

said, slamming her hand against the table. “I
thought he was on our side.”

“The only side he’s one is Callie’s, and

she’s still laid up in bed, unable to move or
speak. He said he’d help if he could, but to
move on without him.”

“So he’s gonna let us rot out here?”

Her rising voice and uplifted hands served
only to calm Luca down. He walked over to
his wife, grabbed her face between his hands,
and said, “It’s good to have you back.”

“Focus on what’s important, Luca.”
“I am.” He pressed his lips to hers and

forgot their surroundings for a moment.
Luca ignored the life and death scenarios
and thought about their kiss at the altar. He

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re-lived that moment over and over again,
gained strength from it. Luca was so close to
having everything he wanted out of life. One
more hurdle to jump. He placed a single last
kiss on her nose then pulled back. “All right,
baby, are you ready?”

“To get the friend, save the city, and

become a hero for all eternity? I guess so.”
Fanchon Marie shrugged under his gaze.
“This will require a major amount of good
fortune and fortuitous luck, ya know?”

“I like our odds.”
He didn’t really. Their odds were crap.

Fighting Breznik and saving the day was one
thing, but getting to Breznik proved to be a
mighty first obstacle. Without the benefit of
a motor boat, they would have to take the
slow route with the canoe from the rafters.
Fanchon Marie had to stand on Luca’s
shoulders to reach the thing and with one
last uumph, they brought it to the floor. Ma-
gic would have worked, but the ancient

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nodes were too far in the other direction, and
they needed to conserve their resources,
which dwindled after their last attack. Per-
haps they should have though. Inside the
boat was a clutch of breeding and angry wa-
ter moccasins.

Luca intended to dump them out,

grab the canoe, and go on about their rescue.
His wife made that impossible. Her high
pitched squeals were like nails run across
knives in his ear. Desperate fingers clawed
his face as she tried to climb up his body.

“Calm down, woman!”
“Sn-sn- snakes. Oh God Luca. Go, go,

go, go, get me out of here.”

“I am trying,” he said though clenched

teeth, “but it is difficult with talons in my
eyes.” They sunk in deeper, and they both
screamed for mercy.

“We are quickly reaching the point

where you need to fear me more than the
damned snakes. Calm down!”

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In the end, she didn’t. He had to carry

her to the doorway and go in alone to get the
canoe. A quick stunning spell kept the snakes
in place for the fraction of a second it took
him to get out the there. “Let’s go.” Luca led
the way down the pier with one end of the
boat under his shoulder while Fanchon Mar-
ie followed behind with the other.

“Sorry honey. I have a thing about

snakes.”

The fact that she’d been dead today

once already, kept her alive. “Okay. We
travel as far as we can by daylight, but it will
be impossible for us to make it there before
morning. When night falls, we will have to
pull over, tie down the boat, and hit the
trees.” Luca heard her sigh behind him, but
she said nothing else. There were no real al-
ternatives – trees or alligators.

They tossed the boat in the water,

stretched a bit and rowed. Louisiana girl that
she was, Fanchon Marie supplied the

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technique and Luca, the muscle. It took a few
minutes, but soon, the two had fallen into a
rhythm and a companionable silence. Under
any other circumstances, it would have a fun
afternoon excursion: a happy, newlywed
couple out for a spot on the river. Minus the
constant threat of death. The river rocked
them as a mother would rock a cradle.
Cranes sang their song from the banks, while
water moccasins, likely attracted by the vi-
brations of the oars, darted around the boat,
popping their heads up every so often. With
continued luck, nothing larger would come
over to investigate.

The gentleness of the water belied the

furious exertions in the boat. What had star-
ted out as easy, timed rotations became a
muscle-ripping, pain-laden laborious jour-
ney. As one hour turned into three and then
four, the heat of the sun combined with the
weight of the water, allowed waterfalls of
sweat to cascade down the planes of Luca’s

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body. Still, he didn’t stop. Gregorio needed
him, and he fought thought the pain as long
as he could.

Every so often, his muscles would give

out, and he’d tumble back into the canoe un-
til the pain subsided. In those moments,
Fanchon Marie made token rows in the wa-
ter. She never propelled them too far, but
wanted to be as much a part of this as she
could. He knew she felt some responsibility
for Gregorio’s entry into this mess, and his
little warrior woman strove to help fix the
situation, despite the injuries her body had
sustained.

None too soon, he brought the jour-

ney to a stop. “That’s enough for today,”
Luca said, as he shielded his eyes from the
sinking sun. “We need to rest. Looks like a
boat house up ahead. We will tie up there for
the night.” He had no idea of what they
would find. A family? The Morlena? Any oth-
er random and impossible thing? He prayed

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fervently for an absence of snakes and
dragged a rough first over his chin. It hurt.
So did the rest of his face. Though beginning
to scab over, it throbbed like hell. He could
only image what it looked like. That,
however, was an issue for later. He cracked
his neck, took a deep breath and walked
inside.

Turns out they had to face nothing.

Someone, or multiple someones, abandoned
and ransacked the house ages ago. Bits of a
nearby tree grew into the opposite side of the
building and every so often, a small portion
of the murky swamp below lay visible though
partially rotted floorboards. They swatted
away cobwebs dangling from the low
hanging ceiling. Not exactly his usual palatial
digs, but it would do.

“This isn’t how I intended to spend my
second night with my husband.”
“It will be okay, Fanche.”
“How can you say that?”

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“How? Simple, everything is always

okay in the end. If it’s not okay then it is not
yet the end.” Exhausted, but in an impish
mood, Luca extended his hand. “Now, shall I
should you how I intended to spend my
second night with my wife?” That got him a
kick in the shins.

“Uh, no. We’re in the middle of a zom-

bie apocalypse, you dumbass. Look around,
we are holed up in a busted up, beat down
shot house in the middle of the river, and
you decide to get fresh?”

I thought fear would make you

desperate.”

“Not that desperate. You’re as crazy as

he is!”

“Come here, wife.” He opted not to

give her time to stand up in righteous indig-
nation. Luca rose to his knees, guided her
body down onto his, and spread her legs on
either side of his torso.

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He wondered if she ever fully grasped

how much she meant to him. He intended to
show her.

“Luca, this place—”
“Do not look at this place or its walls.

Concentrate on me.” Luca removed his shirt
and laid it down as a barrier between Fan-
chon Marie and the filth and grime beneath
it. His wife’s body and emotions had been
tested far beyond the limits of what anyone
should have to suffer through. For the rest of
the night, she would know nothing but ten-
derness and pleasure.

Slow hands took each of her arms and

massaged them, while careful to avoid the
tender wrists that had been bound not so
long ago. Luca let his lips dot feathery kisses
from the inside of her palms up to her elbow.
When he came across a bruise he swore to
himself and added another round of torture
to inflict upon Breznik.

“Tell me about snakes.”

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She breathed deeply. “When I was a kid,
one of my sisters put a couple of garden
snakes in my bed. Traumatized me for
life.”
“Ouch. What did you do to deserve
that?”

“Nothing. Probably. I don’t remem-

ber. Luca, my life is divided into two halves:
a time of youth, rainbows, glitter, and uni-
corns, and then A.S.E.”

“A.S.E.?”
“After Snake Era, also known as After

Sisters Ended Innocence. Way worse than
dying the day after your wedding.”

Luca laughed in her ear before he

leaned her back against the floorboard. His
massages had continued during her story.
With a few additional seconds of attention,
he’d be able to do anything he wanted with
her, but he relented as Fanchon Marie fought
to stile a yawn. Poor thing. Eager but tired.

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“Go to sleep, love. I’m here and I’ll hold on to
you all night.”

“Tomorrow, too.” She mumbled as

she nuzzled deeper into his chest.

“And tomorrow will come when it

does. I will be here then, too. For now, close
your eyes, hold my hand and kiss me awake
when sun comes up.”

****
Morning came entirely too soon, and

it brought with it the weight of the entire
damn world. Though Fanchon Marie greeted
him as he’d asked last night, Luca’s
shoulders still sagged while the orange-red
sun laughed though the window.

“Time to kick some ass, dear hus-

band.” She had woken up in a sickeningly
good mood. He figured she was just happy to
be able to sleep and wake again – a vast im-
provement over her previous situation. “Any
additions to the game plan?”

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He knew what she was really asking.

Are we willing to lose Gregorio to save the
city? He’d mulled over the thought and pos-
sible ways around it several times during the
night and had still not come up with an an-
swer. A few different scenarios played them-
selves out in his head in those sleepless
hours, but each failed in the light of one big,
freaking problem.

Breznik.
More specifically, Breznik on Morlena

land. Nothing was more powerful than a
Rom on his land. Not even if he combined
Fanchon Marie’s magic with his own, he had
no certainty it would it be enough. Still, odds
beyond shit provided only a worry, not an
excuse. At the end of the day, he knew would
not be able to look at himself in the mirror if
he didn’t at least try to save his cousin and
oldest friend.

“Still working it out, Fanche. I am

open to suggestions.” Her shrug said enough.

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Gregorio may well be dead already. The bait
useless now that Luca was partially on the
line. “Come on. Let’s finish it.” This could lay
claim to being the bravest and dumbest thing
they would ever do together. With any luck,
it wouldn’t be their last.

The murk of the bayou turned to bub-

bling sludge the closer they got to the
Breznik homestead – if you could call it that.
In older days, the estate must have been a
grand thing. Cracked and wobbly fences cut
a path from the pier to the old plantation
home. Faded and flaking mint green shutters
hung and swayed like massive waving hands
from the second and third floors.

Somewhere

in

that

house,

sat

Gregorio.

She must have seen the look of worry

on his face. Dainty fingers traced his pursed
lips. “Either way Luca, we won’t leave
without him.” They couldn’t. With what
Breznik knew, leaving Gregorio behind, even

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dead, would be nothing short of a sentencing
of undead eternal servitude. He either
walked out or flew away, but he wouldn’t
stay there.

Luca stopped short. New sensations.

Eyes. “We are being watched.”

“I know. I can feel it, too,” Fanchon

Marie added. She slipped her hand into his
but never slowed her step. “Best to present a
united front. One last kiss for good luck? I’ve
always loved putting on a show.”

Their lips crashed together. He didn’t

give a damn about who saw them. Let them
all watch. If he must die today, let it be with
her kiss on his lips. Let every single last Mor-
lena know that he claimed her. That his
brave wife fought at his side for his man
Gregorio, as hard as she’d fought for him.

Fanchon Marie attempted to pull

away, but his hand held her pinioned against
his waist. He kissed her until his courage
grew. He kissed her to remember what he

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had to fight for. Not just Gregorio’s future
but their own. He kissed until he killed his
earlier doubts and until he knew they would
all walk out of here today.

“How cute.” A voice projected by ma-

gic thundered though the trees. “Come
closer. Up, up, up the lane. I have your friend
just here, just so.”

Luca advanced, but kept his gait slow.

No, not out of fear, but thought. He needed
every second more to formulate a plan as
much as he could. The fluidity of the situ-
ation killed him. He couldn’t make any de-
cisions until more of the players showed
their hands. “I need to see Gregorio. Make
sure he’s still alive.”

“He is. At least for now.”
“Proof, Breznik. You understand, of

course, if I do not trust you as deeply as you
would like.”

The voice bellowed a tree trunk rat-

tling laugh. Their ears and eyes followed the

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sound to its home. There in the archway of
the decaying mansion, occupying a space
between two mighty Corinthian columns
stood Breznik, a tiny dot against the white-
washed pillars. “Come closer. You know I
can’t see you like this.”

Luca crossed his arms. His stance

matching his attitude. “No, but you can hear
me just fine. Now bring out Gregorio. I need
to see that he lives...and that his body does
as well.”

They couldn’t hear, but Breznik must

have said something to his toadies. Within
moments, a bloody Gregorio, of indetermin-
able consciousness, tumbled from the top of
the porch, down the steps and into the red,
iron rich soil below.

Luca’s steps quickened. Along with his

heart rate. The closer he got to the porch, the
more his anger grew. Red. Hot. Dangerous,
like a bit of kindle set fire inside him.

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The tips of Luca’s fingers twitched

and burned as if the nerve endings had fallen
asleep and recently awoken. Magic. Crazy,
powerful, slap you in the face magic. Why to
him? Why now? The power hit him so much,
that it hurt. He’d not felt this since the first
time he stepped foot on his property in New
Orleans.

Luca turned to Fanchon Marie,

searching for an explanation or, at least, val-
idation on her face. He saw nothing beyond
the same mask of steely faced concern and
dedication she’d had so often before. It al-
most felt like...home?

Luca stopped so fast that he nearly

tripped. Grabbing his wife by the abdomen,
he pulled her closer to his side as he spoke to
Breznik. “Have someone send Gregorio as an
act of good faith. I’m sure you must have
some telekinetics in your clan.”

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They were just close enough to see

him roll his eyes. “What about me, exactly,
reads ‘stupid?’”

In case God was listening he prayed,

“Just enough.” Luca felt his Touching Stone
and gris-gris burning to life. Luck at last,
seemed to make an appearance. Luca took
one solid step forward, and the magic in the
ground swirled to surround him heavy and
thick, though no one else seemed to have no-
ticed. Was the place so charged that its magic
seeped out the earth? Or, had the impossible
happened? Had the Morlena land turned
against its owner? That would be a new one,
though crazier things had happened.

Actually, no. They hadn’t. Things did

not work that way. But what, then? Unless....

Time to test out the impossible. “Do I

have your word? Gregorio’s life in place of
my own?”

“NO!” Fanchon Marie jumped in front

of Luca to face him. “Have you lost your

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freaking mind? He can’t be trusted Luca, and
I need you. We need you.” Then much softer,
in a voice below a whisper, “If this is part of
some master, genius plan, now is the time to
tell me.”

He said nothing. Instead, he walked

around her to get an unobstructed view of
Breznik and his sick, lopsided grin. To insane
man’s clear delight, Luca dropped to his
knees, with hands splayed out on the ground,
prostrate to Breznik. “I give my all for my
people.”

Fanchon Marie clawed at his back.

“Please don’t do this. Luca, I’m begging you.”

****
The rat bastard! She couldn’t believe

he’d be so stupid as to think that crazy mega-
lomaniac could be trusted. And Luca, her
husband, the father of her unborn child,
stood there like an idiot, willing to forfeit his
life for his friend.

What about her?

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And the baby?
She kicked him again in the back for

good measure. If he had a super-secret “oh
my gawd” plan, it’d be right about now that
he needed to let that sucker rip. Instead, he
knelt like servant for Breznik, country, glory,
and anyone else to see.

Gregorio started half-crawling, half-

dragging himself towards them. His jaw
hung down, twisted and swaying to the right,
clearly broken in at least two places. Garbled,
pain-inducing words, came from his lips and
his heart. “No, Luca. Don’t. I–” He collapsed
in pain, unable to carry on.

She paused at the sight at him but

merely for a moment. Luca dominated her
mind. If they lost him, they lost everything.
She couldn’t let it end. Not like this. Fanchon
Marie dropped to her own knees in front of
him. “Please, honey, I’m begging you.” She
shed all trappings of pride. “Whatever you

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ask of me, I’ll do, but not this. Don’t ask me
to have to go through this. Please, I—”

She wanted to say more, but the

earthquake cut her off.

Yeah. Earthquake...wait. Earthquake?

Mounds of dirt and once solid ground rolled
and swayed like underground worms in bad
eighties movies. The topsoil surged forward
like a stream, circling the unseeing form of
Gregorio over and over again, created ruts in
the ground. A trench or rather, a protective
moat.

Fanchon Marie got over her own

shocking time to catch Breznik get over his.

“Shoot. Kill them. Kill them all!” In

response, Morlena guards leaned out of
damn near half the windows and patios on
the front face of the house. Luca’s eyes still
swirled as he manipulated the earth...some-
how. She would have to handle this on her
own. Arms raised, she flung out curse after
curse, not bothering to hide her eyes from

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the blood-soaked destructing her words
caused. The moment these fools rose the
dead was the moment they ceased to be hu-
man and deserving of her sympathy. Let
them cry. Let them beg for mercy.

More importantly, let the firing stop.

Please.

Too late.
Fanchon Marie felt the bullet pierce

though her skin in shoulder but bit back a
scream. The last thing Luca needed was any
sort of distraction. With a quick exhalation of
air, she threw another round towards her as-
sailant. Direct hit, though she didn’t get too
long to celebrate before it happened.

Yeah, it. A sound unlike anything

she’d ever heard before. Something akin to
two train cars crashing into each other, and
amplified to the ninth degree. The ground
roared. Not as if it was being used, but as if it
had life itself. It breathed for Luca. The
sound got to be so much that Fanchon Marie,

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along with the remaining Morlena men,
dropped everything to cover their ears. Not
much protection from the sonic boom her
husband created, but she’d take relief from
anywhere she could. Those in front of her
had not been so lucky. She looked up to see
them holding their hands to their eyes as
blood crept down the sides of their faces.
Shattered eardrum or worse?

The ground moved. It grew. Building

and building like a wave, accumulating
strength, height, and width until it loomed
overhead as a strong earthen tsunami. The
tide of soil moved towards the house and,
much like a real wave, continued to grow in
size as it collected more and more earth.
Soon it stood tall enough to tower over the
ancient plantation main house.

“My God, Luca. What are you doing?

Commanding the ground to kill?”

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A voice, not entirely human and not

too far removed from the far side of insanity
answered a very succinct, “Yes.”

While the small mound and moat

bearing Gregorio moved towards them, the
wave of earth and dirt fell onto the house,
crushed its weight until the imposing,
majestic edifice had been reduced to
smoking pile of splintered wood and crash-
ing windows.

From each side, a wave of earth

smashed into the remains of the home, seal-
ing anyone inside into a permanent tomb.
Once finished, the ground sealed itself to be-
come flush with the earth around it until no
evidence remained of the home or any of its
inhabitants. Drained, Luca fell to the ground,
like the house he’d just collapsed.

Fanchon Marie ran back and forth to

both men without worry. No one would walk
out of that mess ever again. She pulled the
slightly less gargantuan Gregorio over next

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to Luca and cast a protective spell in case any
more Morlena showed up

.

She went to work

dressing Gregorio’s many wounds and tried,
without much success, to ignore the shooting
pains in her shoulder. She paused only to
look up and smile at her husband’s form.
He’d done it. Somehow, he’d managed to do
the impossible.

He was still glowing, likely coming

down from whatever had given him so much
power. There wasn’t much she could do for
him, at least not right away. Gregorio on the
other hand…bones needed to be reset and
gashes closed. He drifted in and out of con-
sciousness and soon, after she’d done as she
could for him, she passed out, too.

****
“Fanche?”
The moon was high when she crawled
over to her husband’s tired voice. “You
know, I never gave you permission to
call me that.”

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“Haven’t I earned the right to call you by
any name I choose?” He smiled weakly
as he said it.

Fanche? Hmmm. She decided she

didn’t hate it and placed a kiss filled with
love on his forehead. “You’ve earned that and
pretty much anything else you want. I love
you, Nicolae Luca Djordi Dobrogea, undis-
puted Rom Baro. Now rest up so we can go
home.”

“Breznik?”
“Dust.”
“And Gregorio?”

“Well and able to speak for myself,

thanks to your wife,” he said. Weak, but jovi-
al, Gregorio pulled something out his shirt.
“That water you gave me so much crap over
was the only thing that kept me alive. I had
just enough from the night before to sustain
me during their attacks.” The rest of his heal-
ing came from Fanchon Marie’s magical

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ministrations. He skin was still a little purple
with it.

Luca coughed out a raspy laugh. “I sup-
pose this means I will have to put up
with your gloating for the next few
days.”
“Months, possibly years.”
“When you get over yourself, whip up a
batch for me and my wife. You have my
permission, of course.”
“Took long enough. I love you, cousin,
thanks for saving me.”
“Thank for being there.”

Fanchon Marie wiped away tears be-

fore either man could see them. She would
never cease to be amazed by the love of fam-
ily. Still there was one thing she couldn’t yet
wrap her head around. “Luca, how did you
do that? I mean, where did all that power
come from?”

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He husband shrugged as his body

shut down to replenish, but not before
adding, “I love you, too, Fanche Dobrega.”

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Epilogue

It took nearly a full day of rest before

the trio made it back to New Orleans from
Baton Rouge. Hours after putting up her
protective shield, Luca’s backup had arrived.
Finally. Tender hands loaded the three of
them onto boats and they all drifted down-
stream towards home. Together.

“I cannot make sense of it,” Luca said

into his second glass of Siga Ros. He still
wore the bloody and shredded clothes he had
planned on flying off to his honeymoon in.
Luca held out a third glass to a freshly
showered and still dripping Fanchon Marie.
They’d started healing treatments on her
shoulder which had nearly righted itself up
completely.

“Maybe this will help?” Fanche held

out an oversized manila envelope with Luca’s
name on it. The thing had been stapled,

taped, and waxed sealed. The sender clearly
intended this to be for his eyes only.
“Someone, left it on the bed.”

Someone. Probably Sophie. The wo-

man needed an apology and soon. She was
due. His maid, though set in her old ways,
had been innocent of all dealings regarding
the kidnapping and had been nothing but
gracious to his Fanche since the wedding.

“The wax binding. Does that emblem

belong to who I think it does?”

Luca sat on the edge of his desk and

flipped over the folder to investigate. A
wolf...at the helm of a Viking knarr. He held
up the package to light. Didn’t hurt to try to
see the contents before opening. Perhaps,
check for wires. “Who else would be con-
ceited enough to have this as a symbol?”

“Well, are you going to open it?” His

Fanche moved next to him on the desk. “Can
I?”

“That depends and no.”

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He knew Fanche had been heartsick

for Callie since that day on the boat, but he
wasn’t about to let that change his mind.
Sean had brought Callie back here to rest up
but left before their return. In fact, they
hadn’t seen or heard from either of the
wolves since using the satellite phone on the
river.

Luca picked up the house receiver and

dialed downstairs. “Sophie, any word on the
wolves? Did Callie recover? Good. Her gen-
eral condition? Thank you.”

Luca lumbered his tired body over to

the window. He paused to stop her from fol-
lowing him. “No, you stay here. I intend to
walk over there. I need to open this thing.”

“Is that really necessary, Luca? The man
nearly died trying to save my life.”
“That’s not the issue.”
“What is the issue?”

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“That Callie nearly died trying to save
my life. He has never been very rational
when it comes to her.”
Fanchon Marie started to walk over, but
Luca stopped her again. “I am serious,
Fanche.”

“They’re our friends. And before you

say anything stupid, if he’s not your friend, at
least I count her as one. You know she
wouldn’t let him do anything to hurt me.”

“I’m not you.”
“You are part me. She knows how much
I need you. That means he does, too.
Besides, just because his girlfriend’s
been—”
“Oh, they’re not together. Since you’re
so close, you’d think you’d know that.”
“What? Wait a sec. They broke up?
”It’s not that. They’re—”
“Well, then his wife—”
He shook his head again. “Nope.” The
look on her face was priceless.

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“Then his...oh, just tell me, Luca! What
the hell are they?”

“Who knows? Damnedest thing I have

ever seen. They need each other. They fight
and kill for each other and yet....” Luca
raised the envelope to his nose. “Fortunes
have been won and lost over them in the
highest magical gaming circles. No one
knows.” Luca let a dry chuckle escape. “It is
the greatest mystery of our time, Fanche.
Now, as to this little package right here, her
scent is on it. That gives me some hope that
whatever is inside won’t blow us to the Praio
Tem.” Luca winked and ripped it open.

No wires or white airborne powders.

No nasty spells or burned and cursed photos,
just papers. Lots of bundled papers, bank
statements, and a blank check. One of his
own! “What the hell?”

Fanchon Marie came over. “Hold on,

Luca.” She bent down to scoop something off
the floor. “This fell when you opened it.

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Looks like a note from Sean.”Luca held up
his own piece of treasure. “A bill of sale and a
deed for property in Baton Rouge. That clev-
er little bastard. He gave me all the backup I
needed – the power of the land. My land. He
made it my own.”

Fanche’s laughter trumped his wonder-
ment. “What?”
“This note, Luca. Hilarious.”
“Go on. What does it say?”
Fanche puffed out her chest and put on
her best holier than thou voice:

“I suppose I don’t hate you anymore.

It is an unsettling feeling. Anyway, you’re
welcome, you owe me and this is not a wed-
ding present. I want my money back.
Signed, Sean.

P.S. Congrats on the baby. Name it

Callie (or Sean) and we’ll call it a wash.
P.P.S. If Gregorio calls here again, I’ll kill
him. THIS, is none of your business, just re-
lay the message. Tell your trouble making

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wife that Callie will call her once she gets
better.

“That pup never ceases to amaze me.

Neither do you. Come here.” He placed both
their glasses of wine on the desk and
gathered her in his arms. “I am so proud of
you. I love you, and I can’t wait to begin our
new life together.”

“Let’s start today. I love you, Rom

Baro.”

“And my heart belongs to you,

Beluni.”

The End

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