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Tonight, she was determined to change all that.
With a fresh lime in her hands, she moved into her workroom between the house and her garden. She set about creating a spell that she should have used about eleven months and four weeks ago. She had no doubt, once completed, the formula would end her obsession.
She fired up her cast iron pot-belly stove, using elder wood. Once blazing, she placed the blade portion of her hatchet on top. She needed the metal hot enough to slice instantly through
a thick wax candle.
On her worktable, she cut the lime in half, then squeezed the juice onto a purified elder wood tray. She rolled a thick black candle in the juice and invoked Connor’s name several times until she felt the spell move into place. At the same time, she made use of one of her most powerful incantations. She then picked up the heated hatchet and held it aloft ready to slam the blade through the thick wax and break Connor’s hold on her.
She felt her witch power racing through her veins, giving her a heady buzz. The swirl of electrified energy let her know how potent the spell was. She had no doubt it would work.
With her arm poised and ready to strike, a soft longing ran through her of things hidden behind the veil of death. Her sister came to mind and she felt, as she often did, a trail of loving fingers down both cheeks.
She closed her eyes, her throat tight. “Violet. Are you here?”
A wind from the garden whipped through the room, smelling of thyme, the herb of love she always associated with her sister. Tears tracked down her cheeks.
Violet was long dead, killed in a vampire massacre nine years ago. Yet, in this moment her sister’s spirit was here, in Iris’s workroom.
“Violet,” she whispered again.
Once more, the wind blew in a strong gust and the scent of thyme thickened in the air. “Don’t you want me to end this obsession?”
This time, the fingers once more touched her cheeks while the wind blew. No-o-o-o, came softly into her mind.
Iris talked with Violet a lot, but her sister had never communicated with words before, not once in all these years. Yet, she had now.
“Violet?” She looked around, wondering if the ghost would show herself.
But nothing happened, no fingers on her face, no words in her mind, nothing.
She lowered the hatchet and returned it to a slab of cast iron on the long butcher block counter near the sink. It would need time and a safe place to cool.
She felt frightened suddenly. Something was coming and Violet was part of it, as was Connor. She walked back out to her garden to try to calm down, but again she sensed Connor was near, watching her.
But why? She knew the reasons she’d fallen into an obsession with him, but why did he so often hover above her house?
~ ~ ~
Connor’s com vibrated against his shoulder. For the moment, he ignored it because Iris had finally returned to the garden. His whole vampire being was focused on her. He wanted her sex and he wanted her blood. And in a strange way, he longed to talk with her.
He stared down at her as she lifted her gaze once more in his direction, hunting through the night sky. But he knew she wouldn’t be able to see him. All vampires had the means to remain partially cloaked from witches, one of the few defenses they had against Iris’s kind. The distance completed his invisibility.
Using his scope, he centered it on her face once more. Damn, she was beautiful and that was part of the problem. He’d always preferred dark-haired women and her large, brown eyes had a soulful expression he knew reflected her nature, despite that she was a witch.
He knew a lot about her because he’d hunted her down on the Internet and made an illegal search of her home computer. He knew which websites she visited, that she followed a blog called, ‘Witches and Self-Awareness’, and her Tumblr page had lots of pictures of animals, the forest, and travel photos of Europe.
He even knew the porn site she preferred, which had been fodder for his fantasies over the past two months. Iris, of course, played the lead.
He really was just this side of stalking.
Hell, who was he kidding? He was stalking Iris, though to be fair he had no intention of ever intruding into her life.
An owl swooped down on her suddenly, then took up his usual perch in the huge tree at the back of her yard.
Her melodious voice hit the air once more. “Hello, Sebastien.” He could hear Iris laughing and talking with the owl, her pet, or muse or whatever it was witches used to conjure shit.
When his com buzzed for the second time, he swiftly rose another thirty feet in the air then pressed the button. “Connor.”
