CHAPTER SEVEN: THE GATHERING
CORTLAND
I watched in fascination as the little Witch before me suddenly held the two Gypsy bastards in the palm of her hand.
Her once-husband blinked at her as if he only now realized that while he came in here prepared to face a lamb, she had left the herd and had now returned a wolf. Being the sacrificial animal was all fine and well until suddenly you were the one being sacrificed.
“What do you want in return?” Her husband clearly wasn’t as dense as I had first categorized him as.
“A favor granted is a favor gained.” She took a sip of the frothy cappuccino, the white milk coating her lips that brought forth an image of the Witch on her knees, her lips coated with my essence.
“You want a favor.” He spoke the syllables as if he were tasting them for the first time, and somehow his surprise - his shock, delighted her.
“And my own accommodation in the clan.” The man clenched his jaw and I took that opening to rub my ankle against Marie’s, to watch the little flush that crept up her delightful cheekbones as she sighed out in longing.
“You will have an elite tent as is custom for large visitations.”
She nodded as if this were an acceptable outcome.
“But…” Julian trailed off, and the change in his tone had my own senses spiraling as they sought out any hint of deception. “Once our visitors leave, so do you.”
Marie held his gaze, emotions flickering through her faster than I could read. “Once I have called in my favor, I will leave. I can’t simply go with your debt unpaid.”
“Then we need a time-limit as to when you call in this favor of yours. It can’t take fucking eons, Marie, we need to be quick about it.”
“Oh, yes,” her eyes were sharp as she narrowed her gaze on him, “you always were quick about things.”
“Putain de bordel de merde.” The man swore, causing his friend to blush while Marie simply grinned up in feral delight.
“Fine.” She chuckled, even as his face turned red before her. I wasn’t certain if it was because he was furious or embarrassed. “I will have called in my favor a week after the funeral, just make sure you’re prepared to pay.”
The blonde man finally decided to make himself useful, raising his concerns before his friend could seal his fate.
“But what is the favor?”
Marie’s gaze turned the color of steel as she looked upon Denis and dismissed him entirely. I shouldn’t enjoy her disdain towards the human boy so much, but I found everything about this Witch enticed me.
“Do we have a deal?” This time the Witch addressed Julain.
The idiot stepped forward, nodding once with an outstretched palm, binding the two into an open-ended agreement.
“A deal with a Witch is a deal with Fate.” Marie whispered the words as their hands clamped together, and when he tried to pull away, she only held his grip further, shaking his hand once, sealing the bargain the boy had struck.
Time seemed to halt its march, cataloging this specific moment into the catacombs of moments that changed the course of history. I glanced around the bar, taking in the setting of the dark wood paneling, the table we were seated at, and the white-blonde Witch striking an unfair deal with the dark-haired gyspy boy that believed he had ownership over her. Perhaps one day I would paint this exact scene with oils, pointing towards the time I knew the granddaughter of Jeanne des Montagnes.
When she finally released him, he pulled his hand back in fury, once more casting a furtive glance at the two of us before storming out of the bar.
Her steel gaze suddenly swung back in my direction, and under the weight of that stare I understood how weak maled humans would cower at her feet.
"No matter how much your touch ignites the blood in my veins, I'm still going to kill you, Demon." There was power in her promise, and that would not do, not when she was threatening me.
"I don't think you plan on killing me, Little Witch, I think you plan on killing him." I allowed the truth to dance across my gaze. While she and Julian had hashed out their agreement, I had remained silent, watching them in order to understand what she could possibly need from him.
He wasn't a powerful enough player for a favor from him to hold any true weight. But his death? His death was something she could offer the river herself.
Her breath hitched at my discovery, but she didn't deny it, instead she embraced her wicked ways, tilting her chin higher, raising her head in defiance.
I held no judgment with regards to her decisions, only respect, and yet I voiced the same concern she harbored deep within her chest. "Do you think he's enough of an offering for your element?"