Chapter14
I parked in the driveway, and when we opened the SUV’s doors, Claws ran for the backyard. He’d been cooped up too long and needed time to prowl. The river banks offered lots of hunting possibilities—rabbits, rodents, fish, and frogs. He wasn’t above climbing the trees to hunt birds either. His spots easily made him blend in with the dappled undergrowth.
Raven smiled, watching him. “Does he ever try to be a lap cat?”
“When I sit on the couch, he likes to lay his head on my lap, but he weighs about thirty pounds, and he’s over two feet long. It’s a little hard to fit his entire body on me.”
“His coloring’s beautiful. He looks like a small leopard.”
Claws turned his head, feeling us watching him. Then with a flick of his long tail, he leapt onto the trunk of a tree and disappeared into its branches.
Raven and I wandered into the kitchen, and while he filled my deep spaghetti pan with salted water and put it on to boil, I started the sauce. I was browning and breaking up the sausage when I told him, “I have frozen cubes of butternut squash in the refrigerator. I always nuke them for six minutes before adding them to the pan.” I started chopping onions and mushrooms to throw in the large skillet with the meat. While the squash cooked, he dug around in the vegetable drawer for things to make a salad.
A half hour later, we were sitting at the long, wooden work table with a bottle of wine between us, enjoying the pound cake dessert when a car pulled into my drive. There was a quick knock on the door and Nita hurried inside to greet us.
Raven blinked. “Do people always just knock and walk in, uninvited?”
“Always. My coven thinks of this as their second home.”
Nita swiveled her head back and forth between us. “Am I interrupting something?”
“There’s more of everything,” I told her. “Hungry?”
She went to cut herself a slice of pound cake and lavished it with the fruit and whipped cream. Plopping down beside Raven, she said, “I’m going to need some specialty witch herbs from you. Since the coven funeral, Prim can’t keep her shelves stocked with protective mixes and wards. She’s sold out of all of the pouches I made, and I’ve used most of the witch ingredients in my garden.”
“Did you bring a list?”
She took it out of her jeans pocket and pushed it across the table to me.
“I’ll pick what you need tomorrow and drop them off at your house.”
With a nod, she got up and went back for another slice of cake. When she sat down again, she studied Raven. “I heard you’d deputized Hester to work with you, but I wasn’t sure if you two would get along. Looks like things are going well.” She grinned.
“Better than I expected.” Raven poured himself another glass of wine, emptying the bottle. “I didn’t realize how interesting witches are.”
“Us? We’re more fun to hang with than a barrel of monkeys.”
He chuckled. “Quite a compliment.” He turned his head to study her. “With your long, black hair and bronze complexion, I’d guess you to be American Indian.”
“Guilty as charged. If you ever want a rain dance, give me a call.”
He stared at her, not sure if she was joking or not. When she burst out laughing, he grimaced. “Did your coven deliberately try to be politically correct? You have one of everything, don’t you?”
She snorted. “We became a coven before there was a “politically correct.” Nah, we all ended up together by default. We were the last survivors of witch hunts. My parents lived in Quebec in a witch colony. Canada didn’t kill witches like Salem did. They kicked us out. When our coven was banished, most of them went west. My family moved south. We were on our way to Louisiana when we met up with Hester and the witches who’d found her.”
“Interesting.” He looked at me. “How many different nationalities do you have?”
I ticked them off on my fingers. “Noira’s mother was an escaped slave. Sugi’s Japanese. Meda’s mom was American Indian, her dad a Viking. Lotta’s Swedish, Cordelia’s Celtic. I’m not sure about Destinie. She reads Tarot . . . “
He threw up his hands. “A little of everything.”
“Hey, it wasn’t easy to be a witch in earlier times,” Nita said.
“Nothing was easy back then.” He shook his head. “Serfs and peasants weren’t treated much better.”
“Were you ever persecuted?” Nita asked.
“Demons? There aren’t that many of us. We have to be created. While mankind hunted witches, shifters, and vampires, we stayed in the shadows.”
“So, there aren’t any little demon babies running around?” she asked.
I’d never thought about demon offspring. I’d battled a few demons before but never thought about rubbing shoulders with one. I was curious about his answer.
He locked gazes with me. “When a demon mates, our seed strengthens whatever magic our mate has, so the child will be a witch or shifter or whatever our mate is, but stronger.”
“Cool!” Nita lifted the wine bottle to her lips to drain the last drops. “At least you guys can produce children. Vampires have a hard time of it, even when they marry a witch and use her magic. Sometimes not even with Hester’s potions.”
Raven stood to carry the dirty dishes to the sink. He was returning to the table when Nita went to the wine cooler and chose another bottle. She opened it and poured herself a glass. He sighed. “Well, it’s getting late. I’d better get going. See you in the morning, Hester.”
Nita watched him leave and waited until she heard his Lamborghini purr to life, then she laughed. “I thought he’d never leave. Now we can talk.”
I parked in the driveway, and when we opened the SUV’s doors, Claws ran for the backyard. He’d been cooped up too long and needed time to prowl. The river banks offered lots of hunting possibilities—rabbits, rodents, fish, and frogs. He wasn’t above climbing the trees to hunt birds either. His spots easily made him blend in with the dappled undergrowth.
Raven smiled, watching him. “Does he ever try to be a lap cat?”
“When I sit on the couch, he likes to lay his head on my lap, but he weighs about thirty pounds, and he’s over two feet long. It’s a little hard to fit his entire body on me.”
“His coloring’s beautiful. He looks like a small leopard.”
Claws turned his head, feeling us watching him. Then with a flick of his long tail, he leapt onto the trunk of a tree and disappeared into its branches.
Raven and I wandered into the kitchen, and while he filled my deep spaghetti pan with salted water and put it on to boil, I started the sauce. I was browning and breaking up the sausage when I told him, “I have frozen cubes of butternut squash in the refrigerator. I always nuke them for six minutes before adding them to the pan.” I started chopping onions and mushrooms to throw in the large skillet with the meat. While the squash cooked, he dug around in the vegetable drawer for things to make a salad.
A half hour later, we were sitting at the long, wooden work table with a bottle of wine between us, enjoying the pound cake dessert when a car pulled into my drive. There was a quick knock on the door and Nita hurried inside to greet us.
Raven blinked. “Do people always just knock and walk in, uninvited?”
“Always. My coven thinks of this as their second home.”
Nita swiveled her head back and forth between us. “Am I interrupting something?”
“There’s more of everything,” I told her. “Hungry?”
She went to cut herself a slice of pound cake and lavished it with the fruit and whipped cream. Plopping down beside Raven, she said, “I’m going to need some specialty witch herbs from you. Since the coven funeral, Prim can’t keep her shelves stocked with protective mixes and wards. She’s sold out of all of the pouches I made, and I’ve used most of the witch ingredients in my garden.”
“Did you bring a list?”
She took it out of her jeans pocket and pushed it across the table to me.
“I’ll pick what you need tomorrow and drop them off at your house.”
With a nod, she got up and went back for another slice of cake. When she sat down again, she studied Raven. “I heard you’d deputized Hester to work with you, but I wasn’t sure if you two would get along. Looks like things are going well.” She grinned.
“Better than I expected.” Raven poured himself another glass of wine, emptying the bottle. “I didn’t realize how interesting witches are.”
“Us? We’re more fun to hang with than a barrel of monkeys.”
He chuckled. “Quite a compliment.” He turned his head to study her. “With your long, black hair and bronze complexion, I’d guess you to be American Indian.”
“Guilty as charged. If you ever want a rain dance, give me a call.”
He stared at her, not sure if she was joking or not. When she burst out laughing, he grimaced. “Did your coven deliberately try to be politically correct? You have one of everything, don’t you?”
She snorted. “We became a coven before there was a “politically correct.” Nah, we all ended up together by default. We were the last survivors of witch hunts. My parents lived in Quebec in a witch colony. Canada didn’t kill witches like Salem did. They kicked us out. When our coven was banished, most of them went west. My family moved south. We were on our way to Louisiana when we met up with Hester and the witches who’d found her.”
“Interesting.” He looked at me. “How many different nationalities do you have?”
I ticked them off on my fingers. “Noira’s mother was an escaped slave. Sugi’s Japanese. Meda’s mom was American Indian, her dad a Viking. Lotta’s Swedish, Cordelia’s Celtic. I’m not sure about Destinie. She reads Tarot . . . “
He threw up his hands. “A little of everything.”
“Hey, it wasn’t easy to be a witch in earlier times,” Nita said.
“Nothing was easy back then.” He shook his head. “Serfs and peasants weren’t treated much better.”
“Were you ever persecuted?” Nita asked.
“Demons? There aren’t that many of us. We have to be created. While mankind hunted witches, shifters, and vampires, we stayed in the shadows.”
“So, there aren’t any little demon babies running around?” she asked.
I’d never thought about demon offspring. I’d battled a few demons before but never thought about rubbing shoulders with one. I was curious about his answer.
He locked gazes with me. “When a demon mates, our seed strengthens whatever magic our mate has, so the child will be a witch or shifter or whatever our mate is, but stronger.”
“Cool!” Nita lifted the wine bottle to her lips to drain the last drops. “At least you guys can produce children. Vampires have a hard time of it, even when they marry a witch and use her magic. Sometimes not even with Hester’s potions.”
Raven stood to carry the dirty dishes to the sink. He was returning to the table when Nita went to the wine cooler and chose another bottle. She opened it and poured herself a glass. He sighed. “Well, it’s getting late. I’d better get going. See you in the morning, Hester.”
Nita watched him leave and waited until she heard his Lamborghini purr to life, then she laughed. “I thought he’d never leave. Now we can talk.”
