An American Witch In Paris. Michele Hauf

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СКАЧАТЬ which revealed a nicely toned tummy, she sighed. She’d worn it for two days straight and a long flight across the Atlantic Ocean. She needed clean things to wear. And at the very least, some basic magical accoutrements.

      Combing out her hair with Ethan’s comb, she then snapped her fingers and whispered, “Dry,” and a whoosh of air fluffed up and through the wet strands, instantly drying them. Sometimes Latin wasn’t necessary to kick in the magic. Keep it Simple, Stupid was a motto she followed with her spellcraft. She wove her thick hair into a loose side plait and left some in the back hanging free.

      Without makeup or a toothbrush she felt out of her element. Not quite in top form. She scanned the insides of the medicine cabinet and spied the wood-handled toothbrush. Nah. She wasn’t going to use a vampire’s toothbrush. She squirted a blob of toothpaste on her finger and scrubbed the old-fashioned way. Centuries ago, this had been her only option to dental health. That, or use a bit of twig or the corner of some rough suede. It worked. But her kingdom for a dash of dark eye shadow and lip gloss.

      “Ugh. Nature witch,” she muttered to her reflection. “I should concoct a makeup spell.” She tapped her fingernails against the mirror, thinking it odd that a vampire even had one in his home. “Yeah, I’ll worry about the lacking glamour later. I’ve got bigger problems to solve.”

      Putting the obsidian crystal around her neck, she held it a few moments. Grounding herself. Finding a calm tone for her personal vibration.

      Now ready to face whatever adventure the vampire with the attack kisses had in mind for her, she wandered out into the living area. Seated on the leather sofa, Ethan was focused on an iPad, but he nodded over his shoulder and said, “Ran down to the creperie an hour ago when you were still sleeping. Got you some croissants and pain au chocolat. Fresh juice, too.”

      Points for the vampire. But she wouldn’t tell him that.

      “You mean Stuart is incapable of such errands? Not sure you got your money’s worth with that guy,” she said gaily.

      Sliding onto a bar stool and tearing into the paper bag, Tuesday bit into a still-warm pastry loaded with gooey chocolate. Crisp, thin layers of pastry engulfing sweet, dark chocolate? By the seven sacred witches, it was amazing.

      “What are the plans for today?” she asked around chews.

      “Thought you could summon the demon. Witches can do that, right?”

      “Right, but I can’t summon a demon who has marked me. Just doesn’t work that way. I can track him, perhaps even locate him, but he’s not going to come when I call like a little bitch.”

      Ethan’s sigh echoed across the room. “I thought you’d be more useful.”

      “Way to boost a chick’s confidence. Besides, Edamite Thrash confirmed The Beautiful One wasn’t going to come when I call. So get over it, will you? I know what is first on today’s list of adventures.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Shopping! I can’t wander around in this same getup. I mean, I can work it, but I seriously prefer clean clothes. And I need some lip gloss and eye liner. I feel naked without the black stuff.”

      “Is that going to help you to locate the demon?”

      “It will.” She turned and fluttered her lashes at him. “Don’t you know a woman’s power is all in how she feels about herself? When I look good, I do my best.”

      “I think you look great.”

      “You’re a guy. Guys always say dismissive things like that.”

      He shook his head and set aside the iPad. “Shopping it is. And then?”

      “And then, I also need to pick up some spell supplies. Outfit myself with a makeshift hex-and-spell armory. Then I should be able to set up a grid to map the city of demons. And hopefully, by incorporating the sigil’s power, The Beautiful One will stand out on that map.”

      “Hopefully? I’m going to need more than that. I require assurance.”

      Tuesday shrugged and bit off another piece of chocolaty pastry. “You get hope from me for now, vamp. Say, do you mind that I used your comb?”

      “As long as you didn’t use my toothbrush, I don’t care.”

      “What if I did use your toothbrush?”

      “We’re stopping at a pharmacy, first thing.”

      * * *

      The witch could work the tight black jeans and floaty flowered shirt. Her vibe was definitely bohemian, with her thick white hair braided down one side and the furred spangled coat topping it all off. In the pharmacy, she tore open the makeup packaging and performed a quick makeover on herself, fluttering her newly blackened lashes at him and pursing her deep violet lips.

      Ethan nodded approval because the sooner she served her personal needs, the quicker he could be done with this stupid stuff and get on to the important work. But he had to admit the deep color she wore on her lips stirred his desires. The violet lipstick emphasized her plump, heart-shaped mouth. He couldn’t take his eyes from them. They might taste like sweet grapes warmed under the Tuscan sun.

      Yikes. Ethan checked himself. What was he thinking? He was not attracted to a witch. Yes, he was. And what the fuck was that about?

      “Come on!” Tuesday skipped ahead, obviously on some kind of spending high.

      Ethan kept his credit card handy. Whatever made the witch happy.

      Now, she had managed to find a dusty candle shop that opened to a private room in the back that was filled with all the witchy accoutrements he imagined she’d ever need. And while he suspected the shop owner was one of those kitchen witches who spoke incantations from books she’d bought on the internet and thought she was casting spells, she wasn’t a real born witch like Tuesday Knightsbridge. And if she knew that the woman buying smudge sticks and candles from her really did possess natural magic, she would be in awe.

      Tuesday popped her head out from the back room with a bag full of goodies and winked at Ethan as she wandered by. “Homeward! Stuart waits for us!”

      At the very least, he’d gotten a new toothbrush.

      Back at his place, Tuesday dropped her shopping booty on the floor by the sofa, tossed her coat on the chair and beelined to the bathroom while he picked up the mess.

      Setting her heeled boots on the rug by the door, he then placed the bags neatly on the kitchen counter. He liked a clean, organized home. Which was probably why his few attempts at living with women over the years had failed. Also, the lack of privacy was jarring. Sharing a home with another person was hard work. And since he could have a relationship without moving in with the woman, he chose to stick with what worked.

      Although a few relationships here and there, over the centuries, had worked for him. Most had been so long ago he’d forgotten what it felt like or how it had lasted. That wasn’t exactly true. A man never forgot the women who had passed through his life. And the current one was moving through like a hurricane intent on settling and spinning about for a while.

      “Stuart, be sure to send the vacuum through when next I leave.”

      The СКАЧАТЬ