D ez stood in the doorway with the Amazon.com box she'd collected from her porch. She loved learning new things, and books were the way to do it. The Internet was a bit of magic she truly enjoyed.
She spied a hunched-over figure in pink to the left side of the yard, examining the rose vines. The pink was blindingly bright and clashed horribly with the blue hair.
"Elise?"
"Ah, Miss Merovech! I hope you don't mind. I was passing by on my way to visit the grandkids. It's a marvel, these rose vines of yours. They're so thick and abundant. Do you use Miracle-Gro?"
No, she used magic.
"Something like that. Would you like to come in for some tea? I've apricot shortbread cooling."
"No, I'm just stopping by. Wouldn't want to intrude." The woman tugged a stray lock of hair, taming it behind one ear. "Is your handsome man inside?"
Dez tucked the box under an arm and leaned against the door frame. Ivan was right; they weren't interested in her. And she had to stop fooling herself. "Nope. He's not keen on daylight."
That little lie gave the woman something to chew on.
"Hmm, well, I did come by with an offer, really. The Willow Cove Rose Club would like to invite you to join us. We meet every Monday afternoon at a different member's house each time." "Really?"
Containing a sudden giddy rise of enthusiasm, Dez said to heck with it, and just beamed. "I'd like that. Is there a membership fee?"
"Just the sharing of secrets, dear," Elise said with a coy smile. She patted her pink pocketbook, hung about her wrist. She actually wore white gloves. "And seeds or cuttings, of course. Can you make it to Janice Blaine's house next Monday?"
"I'll be there. Should I bring treats?"
"Treats, dear? Oh no, leave the baking to the prof-er, no, we wouldn't expect a new member to bake for us. Just yourself. And your secrets. And, er..."
The pursed frown and nervous fingers were Elise's tells. Something troubled Elise more than how to get her hands on Dez's rose secrets.
"Was there something else, Mrs. Henderson?"
"Well, dear, I'm not quite sure how to say this. Oh, I'll just say it. There are rumors. Silly whispers, but, well...Are you...really a witch?"
Bother. Those old rumors again? The people of Willow Cove had no imagination whatsoever.
"Elise, you don't really believe in witches, do you?"
"Oh, of course not. Well, not the 'twitch their noses and make things happen like Samantha Stevens' kind of witches. But those Wiccans." She shuddered noticeably. "And then there are the ones who dance about great bonfires. Naked!"
"Elise! That's incredible." What was so wrong with skyclad? "Don't worry, you'll never catch me chanting naked around a bonfire." Because Dez was very careful about things like that.
"Good, then. Sorry to have brought it up, but the other ladies were wondering."
Of course. It was always the other guy.
"You know how nasty rumors get started. We'll forget I brought it up, shall we? We'll see you in a few days. Ta!"
Aware she'd just been dissed by a woman with artificially dyed-blue hair and not enough meat on her bones to satisfy the hungriest of stray dogs, Dez still waved happily as Elise scuttled off and climbed into her boat of a brown Lincoln Continental.
What had Ivan called Elise? An old biddy. Yeah, well, technically, Dez figured she was at least one of those descriptive words herself.
"You're not old, you're wise."
Sure. Wise.
And so hungry for friendship she'd join a gang of geriatrics who had no interest in her beyond what she could help them grow. So long as she didn't twitch her nose at them.
"Don't do it, Dez," she chided. "If you go to the meeting it will be like surrendering to the status quo. Ivan would have a good laugh if I joined the club. Just surrendered to this desperate craving for connection."
Parts of surrender appealed to her. And another part of her toyed with the idea of showing up naked at Janice Blaine's house and inviting them all to call down the moon.
"Ha!"
She ripped the tape off the box, and the contents spilled out onto the porch. Three books, each of them a Dover edition of da Vinci's notebooks.
"I remember that one," she said, studying the picture of a human flying machine on the cover of one of the books. "I told him it would never work."
The air changed so swiftly, a breeze swept Dez's hair across her face and fluttered the pages of the book. The rose vines stirred.
Someone was about. And not a normal someone.
There at the gate to her front yard stood a marvelous creature. Yes, she could go there. It wasn't as if Ivan Drake presented the smallest threat to her. And she'd have to be blind not to feel an attraction.
Why not indulge? It was all a part of her master plan.
"Fight fire with fire," she said, and stepped out onto the porch.
Ivan waved. "It's day!"
"I see that." She crossed her arms over her chest and heeled the edge of the step with a bare foot. "So I suppose you've come for sex?"
"You know it."
"My, but you are the romantic one."
He offered a smirking shrug. Sweet lug of a puppy dog waiting to be taken in and played with. Toss me a bone. I'll pretend I'm not out to attack you and take away your very livelihood.
If she thought about this rationally, Dez knew by entertaining Himself's fixer she was playing right into the Old Lad's hands. It was not a position she wished to place herself in. But if she didn't stand down the fire now, it would come again. And again, and again, until finally Himself sent a fixer so powerful even she couldn't fight it. And that opponent likely wouldn't use seduction as a weapon.
All told, she had best meet this one at the vanguard if she had any hope for the future.
"Come on then," she said to the hopeful puppy. "Meet me around back."
Tossing the box of books aside as she wandered through the house toward the back porch, Dez tugged at the clingy dress she wore. It was an ancient thing, made of white lace, and buttoning all up the front. She'd removed the poufy, ruffled sleeves years ago. This witch changed with the times, but that didn't mean she had to abandon a nice dress because it had been in style before most mortals were born.
Humming a bit of the music that played in the speakers she'd installed all over the house, she smiled at the soundtrack tune.
Panpipes and violins invited lovers to a Celtic dance.
Pausing before the screen door, Dez rushed her memory over the prominent lovers she'd had through the years. She took a lover when she chose. And when she did not feel the desire for a lover, she did not have one.
Simple rule she'd followed for centuries. Leonardo da Vinci being such a lover. Yes, she could claim a few famous names for her bedpost. Da Vinci had been a fling, but she'd encouraged him to seek his passion. He'd not easily been drawn from his studies nor his interest in men.
Denis Diderot had taught her to read by allowing her a first look at his fabulous Encyclopedia plates. And Houdini had marveled at her seemingly effortless magical skills. None had ever known she was a witch, though a few may have teasingly accused her.
Hands on hips, she scanned the horizon. Was the man strolling outside along the cliff lover material? Did she really think to go through with the invitation of sex? A counterseduction intent on playing him before he could play her? What did she hope to gain by seducing him? It wasn't as though he didn't want sex. He'd be getting something he desired.
As would she.
"A man can be brought to his knees through passion. No one messes with this witch. And he's going to learn the hard way."
On a shelf near the door sat a few vials of essential oils. The open mortar of vanilla beans she'd crushed earlier wafted an intoxicating scent. Dipping her finger, she drew out the slick remnants of oil and dashed it at the base of her neck and across the insides of her elbows.
A crisp breeze gushed up from the beach and whipped Dez's skirts between her legs as she approached Ivan. He turned and offered his cupped hands toward her. He held something caged within his fingers.
"Is it going to leap at me?" Dez wondered.
"Just take a look." His smile could slay the hearts of women the world over. Little-boy enthusiasm captured on the face of a man.
"Do you dare, you who keeps frog hearts in jars?"
"Fairy hearts."
"I don't even want to know how you got that thing."
"No, you probably don't."
"You witches and your need for live, beating hearts." He blew out a breath.
"You're half witch, Mister, so don't give me grief about any gruesome acts."
"Deal. So take a look."
Dez curled her palms over his hands and immediately sensed what he held. It touched her innate air magic, and she related to the motion.
"I found it on the grass, soaking up the sunlight."
She slowly peeled back his fingers to reveal the swallowtail resting patiently on his middle finger, above a plain silver ring. It spread open its wings, but didn't immediately take flight. The yellow stripes within the black scales were slightly faded. This butterfly had been around for a while.
Much like her? If this youngling vampire knew exactly how old she was, would he flee in disgust? Hell, her body resembled a thirty-year-old's, but her mind, well, that possessed memory untold, and heartache and triumph and sadness and joy.
Why are you doing this to yourself? Age has no meaning for your kind. If you don't worry about it, he won't.
And what the heck? Why did she care? It wasn't as if she intended to start doing emotions for the guy. This daylight foray was strictly business.Make that war.
Tracing the lobed tip of one black-rimmed wing, Dez delighted in its delicacy. "I bet your master wouldn't approve of your entomological hobby."
"My days are my own, Dez. Let's not talk about my nights, okay?"
"Fair enough. That includes the grimoire, as well? Off-limits during the day?"
"Promise."
She'd accept the promise, but she'd never completely trust it.
Ivan lifted his hand and set the butterfly on a wavering path toward the ocean.
"Now that you've given me such a neat gift, I have one to show you," she said.
"I thought we were going to have sex?" Ivan called.
Men. Masters of the one-track mind.
"Come on, there's a climb down to the beach over here."
Swept from her feet, Dez hadn't time to protest as the vampire leapt into the air with her cradled in his arms. The next second, he landed on the beach and set her down.
"Or we could jump," she said, wobbling to stand. "You like to play the he-man?"
"It's not an act. It's who I am." A tug to her skirts swirled her up against his body. "You fascinate me, Dez."
"You've known me three days."
"You're the first woman I've met who has challenged and seduced me at the same time. I like that. I know every time I look into your eyes I'll see something new there. You're not like any other woman."
"Like you've been around long enough to gain such dating wisdom."
"So we're dating?"
"No."
"Sex is part of dating, isn't it?"
"Sex." She walked to the entry beneath the cliff, and stretched her body along the rough rocky outer wall. "Is sex. It has nothing to do with romance or dating or happily ever after. It's purely a carnal thing."
He rushed up and blocked her entrance into the cave. "Don't say things like that. Sex is precious. It's a way for a man and a woman to share themselves."
"It's a release." And she was losing focus. She didn't want to talk him out of this. What had become of her seduction skills? Hell, was she really so out of practice?
He shook his head and looked to the side. "I don't know about this anymore."
Seduction going downhill, Dez. Step it up! "All right, I'll give you the sharing part. Sex is a wondrous act shared by two individuals that, for a moment, brings them close."
"But it's just an act to you? Going through the motions without becoming mentally involved? How can you do that?"
She glided a palm over his chest. The heat of him permeated the thin black T-shirt, and the definition of his pecs felt like stone beneath the fabric.
"I'm not entirely unfeeling." She threaded a hand into his. "Come with me. I'm going to show you something amazing."