She pressed her lips into a thin line of displeasure.
When Julian had been in here, I did not scent Magick on his bones - in his blood, and I couldn't help but think the river may just reject her offering because there was absolutely no appeal to him.
"I'm not sure." Her response came out in a whisper, and I suddenly felt compelled to helpthe Witch, not just because of my own bargain, but because of her.
***
I was always floored by the mammoth tasks humans could accomplish in a short amount of time when unified in a desired outcome. Today was no different as I perched upon a new rooftop, content to watch Marie's clan erect a series of white draped tents across the valley. Men and women worked shoulder to shoulder studiously, preparing each tent with bedding and mattresses.
Is this the production my little Witch had to endure for her wedding, or did that man-child simply fuck her poorly against a tree before she decided she wanted nothing to do with him and fled?
I was curious. Too curious. Because I had no right to be this damn curious about one of Charlain's Witches, not when the fate of Magick rested upon their pairings. And yet, even that knowledge didn't make me want to have my way with her any less.
I watched three much larger tents be erected in the middle of the field, their backs positioned towards one another so that a triangle lay in the center.
I had caught snippets of information and knew enough to understand what was going on here. Two visiting clans from Romania and Italy were visiting, along with some French clans that had been governed by Jeanne des Montagnes in other parts of France. Such was not the ordinary practice when it came to Gypsy funerals, but anything short for Jeanne des Montagnes would have been seen as an insult. One of those large tents had been reserved for Marie, and I watched the woman in question glide across the plains of the field, a goddess amongst men.
She had changed since our dalliance this morning, now she looked almost regal - every bit of Jeanne des Montagnes’ granddaughter that you might expect. The black satin dress seemed to cling to every curve and edge of her body, her cleavage supple and plump. I narrowed my gaze, annoyed that I couldn’t smell the beads of her sweat from this distance. Wisps of her hair were pinned up against her head, ensuring that her white mane framed her face in a way that spoke of Magick and sensuality.
In a matter of one night, the white Witch had become my obsession, and I knew that because of my demonic nature that it wouldn’t end well for either of us, but my nature also wouldn’t allow me to release her - to simply walk away. How many years had it been since someone of her stature had piqued my interest?
She stalked between the tents, and suddenly she wasn’t just a gyspsy Witch forced to play host, she was a warrior queen, stalking through her war camp.
Despite the other clans governed by Jeanne des Montagnes being in France, the Romanian clan was the first to arrive.
Witches governed far more than the human eye ever truly understood, and when it came to the Romanian clan, they rivaled Jeanne des Montagnes in both power and influence.
The Romanian clan were notorious for shopping out their talents, casting love spells and hexes in equal supply for the right amount of coin, all ferried through international payment means - Western Union serving as their most convenient source of funneling funds across the globe. At one point, the Romanian government had declared that the Witches needed to start paying taxes on their earnings, but it didn’t take long for their head Witch to publicly declare that if their government pushed the bill through, they would be forced to do what any Witch worth her Magick would do - they would curse the government.
That declaration soon saw the tax bill evaporate, never to be spoken of again.
The Romanian clan hadn’t sent their matriarch in, choosing to send her son instead. I recognized him instantaneously, his name had been whispered from creature to creature in the shadows. He was a Mage who practiced the dark craft, and whilst his lineage wasn’t as impressive as Marie’s, what he had done with it was. He had moved into politics, many believing that he was next in line to become Prime Minister.
Was this the match that we needed to balance this new surge of Magick? I watched him from afar - watched his people mingle with Marie’s as if they were long lost relatives. He walked towards Marie with a confidence that Julian lacked, and suddenly my curiosity solidified into an acid taste that I recognized, but refused to name. I became the shadows themselves, sliding between the crowd, until I blended in with Marie’s shadow against the earth, preparing myself for the greeting that was about to unfold.
His steps were sure, causing Marie to halt her own steps, allowing him to approach. Even as he was waylaid, passing greetings as he walked in her direction, he never took his eyes from her for a moment. His skin was sunkissed, his hair golden.
And then he was finally upon her - upon us, bowing before the High Priestess. Charl had named each of his Witches based on one of the major arcana cards within the tarot deck, and Marie’s name fit her perfectly.
“Marie des Montagnes, I am here to offer my condolences, it is never easy losing someone we loved, let alone the one who raised us.” The man spoke in perfect English, and I wondered if this was a test when so few of their people conversed in the currently adopted global language.
“Thank you for coming, Nicu, we’re honored to host you.” Marie replied in English, and this time it wasn’t for show or to prove a point, it was simply two heirs belonging to two powerful families greeting one another.
Why hadn’t this been the pairing that Jeanne des Montagnes set up? Why had she left her only granddaughter shackled to the whelp of a boy who didn’t look competent enough to tie his own shoelaces? She knew him - was comfortable enough to greet him by name, and that knowledge sent an irrational heat of rage through my system.
This was the problem with becoming too curious about the Witch. Perhaps I could steal her pleasure, watch her eyes roll into the back of her head as she writhed beneath me and then I could set her free, both of us sated.
He glanced pointedly at the empty space beside her. “No husband?”
Was I supposed to lay on the ground as a fucking shadow forced to listen to two human’s flirt? Hell save my eardrums. I was a Demon of lust, but that didn’t mean I willingly listened to bad pickup lines and cringeworthy conversations. I fed off their lust - their desire, not their dimwitted comments.
And yet I found myself waiting to hear Marie’s response because I was still so damn curious about her.
“I found the one that was chosen for me tiresome.” She shrugged as if it were a non-issue, and in that one statement she had evened the playing field. No doubt, Julian would be furious, but he had not stipulated any terms in his agreement - had not asked her to paint him in a good light when it came to her hosting duties, and so I remained on the ground, gathering information that I could harness for my own needs.
Nicu chuckled, and I could smell his desire for her leak into the soil. His scent was rich, filled with cinnamon and Magick, lust and ambition. In truth, he seemed the perfect counterpart to Marie - Charlain would be pleased.
“What about you?” Marie lobbied the question back at him, holding his gaze, showing him that she was his equal and more in all the ways that counted. “Heard you ran off with a girl. You have a house full of babies, Nicu?”