Eliza
After grabbing some paperwork from my office, I walked to my parked car. The moon shone full and perfect above me, and the air smelled like dry leaves mixed with a rich, spicy scent I couldn’t identify. I inhaled deeply, not knowing where it came from. The tantalizing aroma tickled my nose and caused an odd shiver to pass over my skin. So appealing and familiar, like the notes of a long-forgotten song, and yet completely mysterious as well.
A prickle went up my neck and I knew I was being watched. Without being too obvious, I snuck a glance over my shoulder but saw only shadows. I quickened my pace, and as soon as I climbed inside my car, I heaved a sigh of relief. Locking the doors, I checked my rearview mirror. Was there someone lurking in the shadows? I couldn’t tell but was glad to be on my way back home.
I drove through the South Side, my mind churning. When I pulled into the large circular drive in front of Dragonsong Manor, my phone pinged with a text from Amanda.
Tommy Belfiore showed up at the bar. Things got weird. He saw my panties, and now he’s giving me a ride home. Don’t wait up for me, and don’t worry.
I sent her several shocked emoji faces in reply. Only my sister would send a message like that and then tell me not to worry. If it were anyone but Tommy, I would worry, but I knew Amanda was safe with him. I had no doubt about that.
Putting my phone back in my bag, I entered the house. When I noticed the light was still on in my father’s office, I tapped softly on his open door. He sat at his desk, surrounded by papers for his Dragonsong family history project, and several scrunched-up candy wrappers. Peanut butter cups. His favorite. They were leftovers from trick or treat.
He looked up and smiled. “I thought I heard you come in. Did you have a good day?”
“Yes. I won both of my cases.”
“Good for you.”
I glanced at my watch. “Amanda should be home soon. We went out for drinks after work, and Tommy Belfiore is giving her a ride home.”
“Tommy,” he said with a smile. “I’ve always liked him.”
“Who doesn’t like Tommy? He’s extremely likable.”
“Are you heading up to bed now?”
“Not yet. I need to go down to the vault. I have to check on something.”
“The vault? At this time of night? Do you want me to come with you?” he asked as he grabbed the key from a hook on the wall next to his desk. The hook was shaped to look like a dragon, and the key hung from its tail. My dad really liked the whole dragon theme.
“No, it shouldn’t take long.”
“Then I’ll wait here for you,” he said, going back to his book. He didn’t ask what I wanted to do in the vault. He didn’t want to know. Plausible deniability was a beautiful thing.
Tucking the key into my pocket, I went down the steep staircase and walked through a narrow passageway until I reached the deepest, darkest corner of our basement. Amanda and I used to call it the dungeon. It definitely had that sort of vibe. The lights, flickering like candles in glass sconces on the walls, only added to the effect.
At the end of the hallway was an ancient wooden door carved with depictions of dragons in various shapes and sizes. Next to the door on the wall was a modern, high-tech panel. My father had spared no expense. As he always said, dragons liked to guard their treasures. He was no exception.
I punched in the password, Familia Ante Omnia. Family Over All. The Dragonsong family motto.
When the panel blinked with a green light, I put the key into the door and opened it. The bright lights inside the vault turned on automatically, and I glanced around the space.
Only two days ago, I’d brought the Dragon Rouge here and slipped it into, ironically enough, drawer number 1313. I’d recorded the drawer number, date, and a description of what I’d put inside on the pages of a large logbook.
Antique wooden box, dragon design, containing a large natural ruby.
Opening the drawer, I took out the box and held it in my hands. It was a magnificent piece of history, and my father would have loved it. Decorated with an intricately carved dragon shooting flames out of its mouth, it might have made an excellent birthday gift for him, if only it didn’t contain a cursed, priceless stone.
As I stared at it, I heard the whispers of a darkly seductive voice curling and swirling in my mind, but I knew better than to listen. That may have been why Mr. Dalca tasked me with keeping it safe. Not because I could control it, as I’d said to Helena, but because I could resist it. Or at least I hoped I could.
After reassuring myself it was safe, I put the box back in the drawer, locked the vault and headed upstairs. The further I got from it, the more the tightness in my stomach eased. I’d agreed to be the guardian of the Dragon Rouge for the time being, but I didn’t like it. It frightened me, and I wasn’t the kind of person who scared easily.
Hanging the key back on the wall, I kissed my father on the head. “Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t. I heard your event on Saturday went well.” Although his tone was cordial enough, I caught the undercurrent of irritation in his voice. I sensed it every time we discussed one of my Wiccan events.
“It did. I wish you could have been there.”
“Not my thing.” He gave me a tight smile. “Perhaps you’d like to come to church with me sometime.”
I returned his tight smile with one of my own. “Not my thing.”
His face reddened. “It’s not right, Eliza, for you to be involved in this sort of—”
I held up a hand. “I love you, but I won’t discuss this. Goodnight.”
He stopped me in my tracks with two words. “Celeste called.”
Putting my hands on my hips, I scowled at him. Celeste was a subject we could both agree on. “What does she want?”
He played absentmindedly with a pen on his desk. “Amanda isn’t returning her calls. She’s threatening to come here if your sister doesn’t call her back soon.”
I rolled my eyes. “Amanda is a grown woman. She can do as she likes, but I’ll talk with her tomorrow.”
Giving him a final nod, I left the room, saying a prayer to the goddess for patience as I went upstairs. I was annoyed at both Celeste and my father. He never gave up. I’d been a Wiccan since high school, but I’d been a witch since birth. Not accepting my beliefs also meant not accepting me on a fundamental level, and it hurt.
I stripped out of my clothing and took a warm, soothing bath. Soaking in the scented water calmed me and helped me focus. I couldn’t worry about my father or Celeste right now. I had more urgent issues to ponder.
Until I’d held it in my hands, I thought the Dragon Rouge had been a myth. A legend. Knowing something so powerful and potentially evil existed in the world shook me to my core. I had to get a handle on this situation quickly, and to do that, I needed to find out everything I could about Ivan Rochat.
I got out of the bath reluctantly, towel dried my hair, and dressed in a long white satin nightgown with a matching robe. Grabbing my laptop, I curled up in an overstuffed chair next to the doors leading out to my balcony. I called it my “internest,” since it was the cozy place I always used when surfing online.
I glanced out the window. Tonight the wind howled, and the branches of the tree right next to the house rustled and cast odd shadows on the lawn. I loved fall. Normally, this time of year brought me comfort. Right now, however, I felt unsettled.
I looked up Ivan on my laptop, and instantly, the same photo I’d seen in Helena’s office popped onto my screen. He really did look like a Norse god. I sat back in my seat, staring at his photo, as a whiff of the same spicy scent I’d been unable to identify wafted through my mind again, an olfactory hidden memory.
“No, no, no, no, no.”
This couldn’t be right. I put my laptop on the desk in the corner of my room, with it still open to the photograph of Ivan. Blond hair, a strong jaw, eyes the color of a stormy sea. Far too handsome for his own good. Far too handsome for anyone’s good. Could he be what all of Malissa’s omens were warning me about?
I burned some sage and cleansed the room before taking my scrying mirror out of a desk drawer and removing it from its silk bag. An antique I’d found in Istanbul, it had called to me from a dusty corner shop in the Grand Bazaar. Oval, silver, and covered in an intricate design of flowers, it rested on a stand and came with a matching candlestick to place in front of it. I took a pink candle from the stash behind my desk, put it in front of the black glass of the mirror, and lit it.
Opening the door to my balcony slightly to let in some fresh air, I forced myself to relax as I plucked a pale pink rose out of the flower arrangement near my bed. I brought it back to the desk, tore the petals off the stem, and scattered them across the table. I also arranged a series of rough, uncut amethyst crystals around the burning candle before finally sitting down and turning all of my focus to the mirror. It didn’t take long to get my answer. When I saw Ivan’s face appear, I moaned. This was a complication I hadn’t anticipated.
I wracked my brain, trying to think of a solution. Fate was not something to be toyed with or manipulated, but I could approach it on my own terms, with my eyes wide open.
Blowing out the pink candle, I put three brown ones on a silver platter, with a white candle in the middle. I brought my laptop closer, so the photo of Ivan was next to the flaming candles. Closing my eyes, I sent out a message, whispering the words into the night air.
Someplace where I cannot see,
A man named Ivan waits for me.
Long I’ve wandered, years I’ve yearned,
As hours passed and seasons turned.
In this time and in this place,
I need to see him face to face.
For good of all and with free will,
My wish for Ivan, now fulfill.
I blew out the candles, watching as the smoke twisted its way up in a slow, undulating dance until it reached the open balcony door and slipped outside. I’d issued the invitation. Now all I had to do was wait.
It happened sooner than I’d expected. The spicy scent signaled his arrival. I went out onto the balcony, under a sky of sparkling stars, and stared down at Ivan Rochat. My destiny. He did not seem happy. In fact, he looked ticked off. He stood next to an old oak tree and stared up at me with a frown on his handsome face.
“Eliza Dragonsong. White witch. Why have you summoned me?”
My room was on the second floor, but I saw him clearly in the bright light of the full moon. The sound of his voice, gravelly and deep, sent shivers over my skin, and made my nipples harden.
What the heck? Even my nipples recognized him.
I folded my arms over my chest, hiding my traitorous flesh. “We need to talk.”
“Will you give me the Dragon Rouge?”
“No.”
He frowned. “Then we have nothing to discuss. I shall take my leave.”
He turned, moving a step away from the balcony, but I said, “Look, maybe we can reach some sort of compromise.”
Body stiff, he faced me again. “What do you mean?”
“You possess magic, but not enough for you to have the stone. You can’t control it. It would be too dangerous.”
Pointing to his chest, he shot me a look full of outrage. “It is my property. My inheritance. You cannot tell me if I can or cannot have it.”
“Uh, yes, I can. I’ve hidden it, and you won’t be able to find it. If you ever want to see it again, you’re going to have to play nice.”
“I don’t want to play nice,” he said through gritted teeth. He moved a step closer to the balcony, hands clenched in tight fists by his side. He might not be trained, but whatever magic he did possess was pure, powerful, and unusually potent. And his smell. His spicy, sexy scent caused a full body reaction. First my nipples, and now my nether regions. I felt positively betrayed by my libido at the moment.
I smiled serenely and tried not to let him see how much his presence affected me. Resting my elbows on the stone balustrade, I gazed at him. “You don’t have a choice, Mr. Trabuski.”
“I prefer Rochat,” he said, running an irritated hand through his golden hair. “What do you have in mind, Ms. Dragonsong?” He enunciated each syllable of my last name carefully, still speaking through clenched teeth.
“I’ll teach you how to control your magic. Only a strong and well-trained witch can handle something as volatile as the Dragon Rouge.”
I chose my words carefully, not specifically promising him anything. I was setting a trap, using the Dragon Rouge as my lure.
He took another step closer. “Are you saying you’ll give me the stone if I participate in your silly lessons?”
I raised an eyebrow at his words. Busted. “I’m saying I’m generously offering to teach you what you need to know. Whether or not you are able to learn is up to you.”
I tried to sound bored. He folded his arms across his broad chest and lifted his arrogant chin.
“I will do as you ask, but only under one condition.”
“What?”
“You cannot let another soul know you have it. If it gets stolen while under your protection, you will pay, Ms. Dragonsong. You will pay very dearly.”
I smirked at him. “Don’t make any promises you don’t intend to keep. Please report to my office tomorrow at five for your first lesson. Since you’re nothing but a newborn baby witch, it shouldn’t take long. From there, we’ll set up a schedule for future lessons.”
I headed back to my room with a swish of my satin nightgown, but he called out to my retreating form. “You didn’t say if you agreed to my condition or not.”
Laughing over my shoulder, I opened the door to my room. “See you tomorrow.”
When he protested, I shut the door, blocking out the sound of his voice. Sadly, I couldn’t get the image of him standing in my garden, bathed in moonlight, out of my head. Nor could I ignore the scent of him still lingering in my memory.
I could consult the scrying mirror again, but the results would be identical, so there was no point in even trying. Ivan Rochat, the beautiful Viking thief, was my destiny.
And we’d hated each other on sight.