An American Witch In Paris

“Keep her out of sight until you need her,” Ed suggested.

“Too late. I bound myself to her to keep her close and protect myself from any retaliatory magic.”

“Then you’ve got a problem, Pierce.”

No need to state that one out loud. Tuesday’s soft tsking sounds riled him and Ethan fisted his hands. Yet when he saw her smile beam at sight of his anger, he relented the knuckle-whitening clutch. The witch would not get under his skin. He was smarter than this. And he didn’t need to snap a rubber band to remind him of that.

He turned to Ed. “Can you help by telling me where Gazariel might be?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“But you keep tabs on all the demons—how can you know he’s in the city and not have a location on him?”

“It’s a feeling, Pierce, not an exact science or even a map. Believe me, I would help you if I could. The Beautiful One is from Beneath, so you might start at l’Enfer.”

The Devil Himself’s nightclub. It was frequented by demons, vamps, werewolves and most any sort looking for dark and devious indulgences. Just the place Ethan wanted to visit. Not.

“Hey, how much you want for this?” Tuesday waggled a pearlescent alicorn she’d found on a shelf.

Ed shrugged. “You can take it.”

“What? Are you serious?” The witch actually tittered with glee. “You do know how valuable this is?”

“It’s...” Ed winced. “I should have never obtained that thing. It was taken from innocence. It’s not something I have a right to own. I’ve been meaning to get rid of it for a while now. You’d be doing me a favor by taking it.”

“Nice!” Tuesday stabbed the air with the thing. “I can so use this.”

Ethan could but shake his head and wish the day would get better.

“I guess you’ll be clubbing then?” Ed offered as he extended his hand to shake.

“Sounds like it.” Ethan thanked the man and started out of the room, knowing Tuesday would have to follow. Sooner or later.

As he got on the elevator, the witch entered, twirling the alicorn gaily. “I got a prize,” she teased.

“What the hell can you do with that thing?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. By the way, I’m going to need some magical supplies. You whisked me away from home and cauldron. I need certain items to work magic, put up wards and generally survive.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged and tapped the alicorn against her jaw. “This is a start. There’s got to be magic shops in the city. And you’ll have to pay, sweetie, since my kidnapper decided against bringing along my purse. And I’ll be needing some clothes as well. Can’t go clubbing looking like this, can I?”

“You like fine. All black and perfectly witchy? You’ll fit right in at l’Enfer.” Ethan checked his watch. It was around six in the evening. A few more hours before the club opened.

“Can a chick get pizza in this town?”

Rolling his eyes, he strolled out as the elevator doors opened. The witch had no taste whatsoever.

Chapter 4 (#u798c94f9-5156-58e1-8db3-9c61a9887ffc)

At the plain black metal doors to the club l’Enfer, they stopped before the bouncer with red eyes. A sign over his high left shoulder stated, in Latin, what basically translated as “no funny stuff” and “you take your own chances entering.” Tuesday boldly met the bouncer’s gaze and focused her intent toward him. The demon looked down, chastised by her audacity. Served him right. He was young and needed to learn to show respect for his elders.

Blowing him a kiss laced with pizza sauce and some kind of cheese that had not been mozzarella—the French really liked their weird cheeses—she then glided down the dark hallway. The music thudded in her heart and veins. Not worrying whether Ethan gained access, she picked up the beat and danced as she walked.

She sensed the brooding vampire was behind her, and felt his hand go to her hip, as if to guide her through the darkness, but he quickly removed it. Tuesday smiled. Had he forgotten himself for a moment? Thought of her as an actual desirable female he might get close to? She could work with that.

Much as she had developed a liking for clubbing over the last several decades, Tuesday preferred less crowded venues, and with more upbeat tunes. L’Enfer had not invested any expense in color. Everything was black, with hematite and silver metallic bits and trim here and there. The lighting was red, and flashed across the inhabitants and dancers, who also wore mostly black.

Tuesday was dressed for the part, right down to her matte black nail polish and eye shadow. Yet she felt naked without some lip gloss; a deep violet would be perfect for this Gothic milieu. As it was, she felt virtually exposed without any magical accoutrements to hand, and bound to a freaking vampire. Yet she wasn’t powerless. Her simple mastery over the bouncer had proven that. And she did have the alicorn stuck in her waistband. She felt it tremble. This was not a place for such a thing. The demon hadn’t wanted to possess innocence? Interesting.

She wouldn’t test the alicorn’s power here. The place was owned by the Devil Himself, and the sign on the door had clearly stated no funny stuff. The bouncer should have frisked her for weapons. Idiot.

On the other hand, a place like this probably thrived on the illicit use of weapons and how much damage could be done before a person was kicked out. If that would even happen. Again, the sign mentioned taking one’s own chances.

“You see him?” Ethan shouted next to her ear.

Tuesday leaned away from him. “I can hear well enough over the noise, vampire. And I just got here. Let me look around, will you? You want to dance?”

“I’m not a dancer. And I’m on a job.”

“Right, all work and no play. Should I call you Jack?”

“Just keep your mind on business.”

“Can I at least have a drink? We should try to blend in. Look like we’re here to party and not jack up some asshole demon, yeah?”

Ethan sighed then reluctantly nodded. “What do you want?”

“Anything that doesn’t contain a live entity. I suspect that’s on the menu here. And I prefer vodka.”

“Live entities,” he muttered. With a frown, he headed toward the long, black quartz bar that was edged with a cut-in of red crystals that seemed to glow like LEDs.

Tuesday allowed her body to inhale the beat. Despite the fact this club was owned by the rather dour Dark Prince, the music wasn’t too terribly dirge-like. The Goth singer with a string of spikes embedded down the sides of each bare arm sang about his friends being heathens and suggested she should take it slow. All righty, then.

Tuesday swayed to the beat as a crimson-haired faery with violet eyes matched her with a smile and a shimmy. If she was going to be forced to work for some rogue organization to capture a pompous, yet also vicious demon she had no wish to ever see again, at the very least, she could enjoy herself. Lifting her arms, she spun onto the dance floor.

Below her, the Plexiglas floor flashed red and black and then segued into flames. It was a realistic effect, and she almost fancied to feel the heat. A brush of fur tickled her right hand, and with a spin she eyed the tattooed back of a thin person who moved a little too jerkily not to be demon.

A guitar solo screamed and coaxed the crowd to pump their fists and jump in a pounding stomp of fraternity to whatever dark gods were the current rage. Tuesday preferred Loki. The one portrayed in the movies by the handsome dark-haired actor, most specifically. As she spun, arms swaying above her head and hips shifting, she spied Ethan standing at the edge of the dance floor, holding a red glowing drink. His grim look spoke much louder than the music.

“Spoilsport.” She wandered over and took the drink, then tilted back a healthy swallow. Instead of the expected burn, she felt a distinct icy grab at the back of her throat, which then melted into a blaze of heat down her esophagus. And it tasted of cinnamon and chocolate. “Whew! That is some good stuff.”

“I thought it would be the drink for you. It’s called The Devil’s Bitch.”

“Oh, Ethan, you can hate me all you need to.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “I’m not going to crack under all that loathing. You know your emotions only reflect back onto you? Also makes it easy for a witch to use against you. That is, if the witch could drop some magic on your vampire ass. Ditch the frowny face and let’s agree to disagree, and then get on with things, shall we?”

“So you’ve decided to stop pouting and work with me?”