Witch & Curse Read Free Page B

shamanism with the full resources of the university behind her. The University of Washington at Seattle treated Native American belief systems with the utmost respect; thus, her field of endeavor was encouraged, and never challenged.
    But it wasn’t simply Northwestern magic that interested her. She was fascinated by European magic . . . especially black magic. And though, like being a bona fide warlock he denied that his family practiced the Dark Art, she was fairly certain they spent more time in the shadows than they did in the diffuse light of Wicca. Yet she maintained the fiction that he practiced one of the Wicca traditions; it was what he had told her.
    â€œI’ve dressed like the Barley Maid,” she said now,moving between him and the fireplace and stretching out her arms to him. He looked startled and—she hated to admit it—irritated by her interruption of his reverie.
    Jer, you loved me once
, she thought anxiously.
You were thrilled that a glamorous “older woman” graduate student wanted you, a mere freshman. What did I do wrong?
    I want you to come back to me. Not just treading water with me, but back into the deluge, the flood that was all that passion you poured into me. We made such waves . . . we drowned in such amazing ecstasy
. . . .
    â€œI’ve read that if we make love tonight, whatever spells we cast will be extra powerful.” She smiled lustily.
    â€œThat’s true,” he said, giving her that much. His smile was gentle, tinged with both sadness and great wisdom. “And you’ve cast quite a spell on me, Kari. You’re beautiful.”
    She let herself believe he was sincere, and he rose from his chair, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her into her bedroom.

TWO
    WINE MOON

    Wine and wisdom go hand in hand
But not while our foes stand
Lord we beg this humble boon
Let us drink of their blood soon
    Let us drink of you, Lady bright
Filling our eyes with second sight
Bring us wisdom and let us know
How to bring great kings to woe
    Seattle, Washington, August 1 (Lammastide)
    Thunder seized the rafters of the Anderson family’s Victorian mansion in the Upper Queen Anne area of Seattle and shook them until the century-old timbers bowed and nearly cracked. Skeletal fingers of cold rain rapped the windows, impatiently demanding entrance.
    Death wanted in very badly, and Michael Deveraux,the reigning warlock of the Northwest, was doing all he could to open the door.
    Or rather, to burn that door down
, he thought.
By the Horned One, I
will
burn that sucker down. I threw the runes. I read the auguries. They all said the same thing: that tonight’s the night I, Michael Robert Deveraux, will conjure the Black Fire
.
    And I’ll destroy the House of Cathers with it, once and for all
.
    Reeling with anticipation, he shut his eyes and made fists against his chest, fingernails gouging his palms. His heart thudded hard and fast like a battle drum; his hot Deveraux blood ran molten through his veins.
    It can mean only one thing: It’s time for the Deveraux to take over. After centuries of sucking it up and pretending we’ve accepted defeat, we’re going to steal the ball and make that touchdown. We’re going all the way. Because baby, we got game
.
    Oh, yeah—the boys and I got game
.
    This morning at the Dark Hour—3 A.M .—he had opened his Book of Shadows to the Rites of Lammas Night to prepare for Ritual. Lammas was hallowed; it was the Eve of Harvest. In the old, pagan days, the wheat and grapes had been blessed, the day sanctifiedto the Goddess. But in the world Michael worshiped—the mystical Greenwood, home of the Horned One—it was a night for harvesting power . . . and the lives and souls of enemies.
    Michael’s sons were due home at eleven to participate in the Rites. Now it was nine o’clock, two full hours ahead of schedule. Not wanting to tip them off to the fact that there would be no simple