Southern Witch - Would-Be Witch Part 8

I moved forward and peeked inside the car. Lennox Lyons, normally a handsome man like his son, looked like he'd gotten on the wrong side of a celebrity diet. He was pale and thin, his cheekbones slanted like twin shards of gla.s.s under his skin.

I straightened up and looked at Bryn. "He doesn't look well," I whispered.

"He was ill. He's recovering."

"That's recovering?" I asked with a half gasp.

Lennox spoke from inside the car. "Join us or don't, but make up your mind. I'm not interested in basting in my own juice from this freakish heat." His voice was startlingly strong.

I slid in, accidentally flashing a bunch of leg as I did. Bryn's eyes didn't miss the show.

"What color is your dress?" he asked when he sat down across from me.

"What dress?"

Lennox laughed, a rich, dark-chocolate-sauce kind of sound.

"You did say we'd get more votes if I showed off my body," I added to Bryn.

"Gets her wit from her mother," Lennox said. "Under the same instructions, her aunt Melanie would have worn a sweat suit. But Marlee would have worn a dress and then not let you see it."

I stared at Lennox, his onyx eyes glittering in the low light. As far as I had been told, Momma and Aunt Mel had never a.s.sociated with him. And, as a result, I knew more about compound interest than I did about him, which, given the state of my bank balance, you can bet wasn't much.

The water poured down so hard the windshield wipers had to work overtime. The driver crept along, and Lennox rubbed his sunken eyes.

"The meeting should be postponed. Certainly, the weather witches will be out with their lightning rods. We won't have enough members to conduct business," Lennox said.

I chewed my lip nervously. I needed this meeting to happen.

"I said I would be there," Bryn said, shrugging.

I went on chewing my lip as thunder shook the car every few minutes.

The rain slowed by the time we got where we were going, a small redbrick building in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere. We parked on a square of gravel with a collection of other cars. I huddled under Bryn's black umbrella and followed him to the building.

We went inside and brushed the water from our clothes. The earth tones of the anteroom were warm and inviting. I slipped the coat off my shoulders, and Bryn and Lennox looked me over. The black gauze dress hugged like second skin and its halter top was nearly as skimpy as a bikini.

Lennox cleared his throat and glanced at Bryn.

I blushed. "Too much? I can put my coat back on."

"No," Bryn said, taking the coat from me. "I'd sooner put a drop cloth over a Degas."

"But after the meeting, the red-light district would like their wardrobe back," Lennox added.

"What's the red-light district?" I asked.

Lennox laughed and nodded for me to precede him through the door as he held it open for me.

I looked at Bryn, who shrugged. "Never heard of it," he said, which made Lennox laugh harder.

"Have you ever been out of Texas?" Lennox asked, as I pa.s.sed him.

"Sure." To New Orleans, Nashville, and Puerto Vallarta. But I didn't need to leave Texas to find out most stuff. That's what someone invented the Internet for. I'd know all about this Red Light county by morning.

There were five big, round tables cl.u.s.tered together with real pretty flower arrangements of cream roses on them. The chairs at the tables were only on the outside, so everybody would be facing everybody else when we sat down.

I picked out the Cajuns easily by their guttural French. A craggy-faced guy who looked like he'd escaped from the Rolling Stones Voodoo tour had his shirt unb.u.t.toned to reveal a menacing green snake tattoo. A woman with wild curly black hair and sallow skin leaned close to him. Her lipstick was bark-colored and she wore a bracelet of chicken bones and eerie red-violet contact lenses. They sized me up like I was a crawfish they wanted to drop in a pot of boiling water.

I shivered and stayed clear of their table. There was a trio of old women at one table. They wore long cotton skirts and turquoise jewelry. A parakeet with them hopped from one slightly slumped shoulder to the next.

Lennox led us to a third table where there was a woman so tall and slim her chest might have been mistaken for her back. She had smooth sepia skin with a tawny glow like she'd been dipped in caramel.

"How are you, Astrid?" Lennox asked.

"Muy bien. And you?"

Lennox nodded and sat next to her. Bryn pulled out my chair, and I sat between him and his father.

"This is Marlee Trask's daughter," Lennox said.

"Claro," Astrid said briskly. The woman extended a willowy hand with another word of Spanish, but Bryn grabbed my arm and pulled it back before our hands touched.

"She's untrained," Bryn said to Astrid, like I was an unhousetrained puppy.

"How interesting for you both," Astrid said, lowering her hand.

"What was that about?" I whispered to Bryn after Astrid and Lennox started talking.

Bryn leaned toward me, his hand still resting on my arm. "It's common to push power from the palm during a handshake between witches and wizards, to test each other's powers."

"Sort of like dogs sniffing each other?"

He laughed. "Crude but accurate."

"So what would have happened if I'd shaken her hand?"

"Probably just a mild shock or a burning sensation. Nothing more serious, unless Astrid meant to do you harm."

"Why would she?"

"Witches suffer from the same emotions as human beings."

"Meaning?"

"She likes to be the most beautiful woman in a room."

I glanced at Astrid's supermodel cheekbones. "Well, she should be happy here then."

"It's a matter of taste, of course, but if I were the magic mirror, I'd advise you not to accept any apples in that dress."

I sighed and blew a strand of hair out of my face with a frustrated breath. "Listen, Abracanova, I'm not here to flirt with you."

He grinned.

"Or to get the Witchcraft 101 lecture. I'm here to-" I cleared my throat. "Um, okay, I am here to learn some witchcraft, but just 'cause we've got magical families in common doesn't make us compatible," I hissed at him in a whisper. "So you can just cut out all that flirting. Our names aren't Tim and Faith, and this ain't Nashville."

He laughed softly. "When you tell Zach to stop flirting with you, does he listen?"

"I don't tell him to."

"Never? Even during the divorce?"

I waved a dismissive hand. "That's none of your business."

"So you've said."

"When are we going to ask them to vote?"

"We don't have a quorum yet. The bad weather's delayed things. We'll have to wait to see if enough members come. Once the meeting is under way, there will be a point when the discussion is opened for new business."

The chicken-bone gypsy narrowed her creepy red eyes at me, and the Cajun wizard, having caught me looking at them, flexed his pecs. The snake tattoo's head jerked, and the man licked his lips with a tongue that was split like a lizard's. A forked tongue! Yuck. Let me out of here.

My body convulsed into a shudder, and I leaned closer to Bryn. "If it comes down to me using my body to charm the Cajun out of his vote or all those poor people staying asleep, I want you to know that I'm going to buy them all some real nice feather pillows."

Bryn laughed softly. "I don't blame you."

I sat quietly with my hands folded across my lap. I felt totally out of place, like a fly in a room full of long-legged spiders just hoping I'd make it out before they started spinning webs.

Our table fell into a discussion of the changes in the national bylaws. There was a general objection to something the wizards' council, the Conclave, had pushed through requiring witches and wizards to submit to a test called the Highcrest Challenge.

"John Barrett's way of trying to locate threats, those powerful enough to challenge his authority," Lennox said.

"And yet, he must know that the challenge is effort-based," Astrid observed.

"He's counting on egos to make us all push ourselves to the limits of our magical strength," Lennox said.

"I think Mr. Barrett misunderstands the nature of some wizards. Take Bryn, for example." She looked at Bryn, and he raised his eyebrows. "I heard you submitted to the challenge and only reached the fourth level."

"The best I could do."

"Oh, si. Of course, yes," she said with mock agreement. "And yet when the Black Oyster Coven was under siege from a pack of Razak demons, you went to their aid. Lucinda said you held back the pack until she could raise the fades to drive them off."

Bryn shrugged. "The Razaks must have been worn out. Lucinda's sister had wounded them."

Astrid smiled. "Of course. Still, a fourth-level wizard couldn't have done what you did. Level five would have been more believable. Although, perhaps Barrett doesn't know of the Razak battle."

"He doesn't need to know about it. It was one wizard coming to the aid of the coven in his region. In North America, we simply want to be left alone."

"Yes, so lucky that you're American. Because with Celtic blood, a black Irish bloodline, Barrett would need to worry very much about that."

"I don't know much about the Celtic bloodlines," Bryn said.

Lennox cleared his throat and exchanged a look with his son.

"Your pretty new chica looks like she might," Astrid said, flicking a strand of my hair. I frowned and leaned away from her spindly fingers.

"Half-bred fae from the look of her," Lennox said with a nod.

My mouth fell open. What in the Sam Houston? "Why do you say that?" I didn't know thing one about my daddy, whoever he was, but I always a.s.sumed, given my lack of abilities, that he was a human and not magical at all. Except now I seemed to have come into some power, but maybe that was finally from Momma's line.

"Your mother was a circle groupie. She certainly spent her share of time underhill. And your bone structure, you've had that unearthly beauty for several years now," Lennox explained.

Saying I was too pretty to be all human was a backhanded compliment if I'd ever heard one, and I'd heard plenty. "What's a circle groupie?" I demanded.

"Dad," Bryn said with a small shake of his head.

Lennox smiled, and it wasn't an "I'm happy for you" smile. It was a "How come you never guessed you're a faery's b.a.s.t.a.r.d daughter?" smirk.

Bryn a.s.sured me, "Your mother's gorgeous. You look like her."

"Only better. Too much better," Lennox observed.

I clenched my teeth. "What's a circle groupie?"

"Here's quorum," Lennox said, nodding to the doorway, where two young blond wizards had just walked in and were shaking the rain from their jackets.

One of the grandmotherly-looking witches stood, undisturbed by the parakeet standing at attention on the crown of her head. "Let's begin."

I wanted to pay attention, but I couldn't focus. The fae live under hills, and you're supposed to be able to find the entrance in a circular patch of discolored gra.s.s. When I was little, Momma told me tales of faery knights who'd rescued humans from all sorts of peril-throat-rippers, as she called vampires, clawed beasts, demons, and all kinds of vicious predators of mankind. Had she more than admired the fae? Had she chased the knights until they caught her? Was she still chasing them?

Boom! I jumped, startled by the earth-cracking noise. It was almost as loud as the thunder, but too close. A hush fell over the room as we listened, and then something slammed against the door. Bam!

Witches and wizards leapt up, drawing back from the room's entry. The old witches pulled out wands. The Cajun and gypsy yanked out clawed skeleton hands. I backed up and noticed Bryn's face. He looked worried.

"Blood?" Bryn said, pulling out a small pocketknife. He glanced between Lennox and Astrid.

Lennox shook his head and pulled out an amulet from under his shirt.

"Tamara doesn't have an amulet," Bryn said.

"More's the pity for her. Her family should have trained her or stayed around to protect her instead of chasing mist."

Bryn muttered a curse under his breath and turned to Astrid. "Astrid, we'll be stronger together."

Bam! Bam! The door groaned.

"Not if you try to protect the girl, too," Astrid said, shaking her head.