Page 21 of Trickery

Chapter Seven

“It’s my fault, you know.” Willow hugged herself and gazed into Midea’s fire, desperately trying to quell her melancholy. There was just something wrong, something empty inside her. She hadn’t realized how much Damien had become a part of her until they were apart. And this—this separation—was absolute. The emptiness of it weighed down her spirit like an anchor. “I’m the one who seduced him.”

Midea snorted and gave her brew a little stir. “It hardly matters. The bottom line is, it shouldn’t have happened. And he knew it.”

“Maybe he just couldn’t help himself. My spell was pretty strong.”

Old eyes lifted, didn’t bother to cloak their cynicism. “Damien DeWinter? Unable to protect himself from a young witch’s spell? Unlikely. That boy has fucked or tried to fuck every novice for the past ten years. Besides…” She lifted the slotted spoon to her lips and sipped, then added a sprinkle more saffron. “I smelled the spells swirling around that room, and yours, my girl, weren’t the only ones.”

“Okay. So we seduced each other.”

Midea sighed and hefted her bulk up to find another vial from the shelf. “It was still against the rules. We explained to you about the importance of purity. How essential it is for you to come to the Circle unblemished.”

Willow made a face. She didn’t feel blemished. But she did feel lonely. Empty. Like a piece of her soul was missing.

“What shall we do?” Skylar wrung her hands. “The Circle is only a day away.”

Midea looked away, her expression tight. “She must be scrubbed.”

Skylar went pale. Her lips trembled.

“What?” Willow stared at her mentor and then turned to Midea. “What does that mean?”

“We must remove his scent from you or no other warlock will want you. You’ll be lying there on the altar, ripe for virgin sacrifice,” she laughed a little manic trill at that, “and no one will have you.”

Willow put out a lip. “Maybe I don’t want another warlock. Maybe I want Damien.”

“Oh child. Don’t you see? Damien DeWinter is not the warlock for you. He’s not the warlock for any decent witch. He can’t keep his cock to himself.” Her gaze narrowed. “Do you really want that? A mate who’s unfaithful? Every day of your life? Forever?”

Willow stifled a shudder. “Maybe he’d be faithful to me.”

A snort. “Maybe pigs will fly,” she waggled her spoon, “without our help.” She sat back and looked at Willow, took in her sad, bedraggled countenance. She stood and ladled some of her steaming brew into a cup and hobbled to Willow’s side. “It’s really best this way, my child. This way, you can forget Damien DeWinter and move on with your life. The way it was destined to be. Here. Drink this. It’ll warm you.”

Willow took the cup, with both hands. Sipped. Sighed as a delicious enchantment spilled through her veins. “I’ll never forget Damien. Never.”

Midea cackled a laugh. “Yes, you will, my dear. In a moment or so, it will be as though he never existed at all.”

“You cannot attend the Circle. I absolutely forbid it.”

Damien glared at his father. “When has that ever stopped me?”

Azreal bit back a smile and then sobered. “Damien. The coven doesn’t want you there.”

“I’ve been disinvited?”

“Specifically.”

“Why the hell would they do that?”

Azreal fixed his son with a somber gaze. “I think you know. This girl, this novice, was identified as their one great hope. A lost Sister, destined to bear the next Great Mother Witch. And you seduced her—outside of the Sacred Circle. You can see why they’d be miffed. When she presents herself before all the eligible warlocks, they want her choice to be pure. Not tainted or twisted or influenced by—for wont of a better term—an old boyfriend.”

“We had something very special.”

Azreal shrugged. “She won’t remember.”

“What?”

“They’ve had her scrubbed.”