and brought up their joined hands, rubbing Bijou’s knuckles back and forth over his jaw. The gesture was not only unnerving, but she found it intimate. He was so used to being flirtatious he didn’t even seem to notice, but she couldn’t summon the will to pull away from him.
“Why don’ you believe he’s a real practitioner, Eulalie?”
It was her turn to frown. “Nothing is right about any of his rituals. He changes them to suit him and you just can’t do that. I would have to say he’s never had a teacher, at least that’s my best guess. Where I might use water, he had blood. He has a sacrifice. I’d use an apple, he has an actual heart.”
“He’s bastardizin’ actual rituals,” Remy asked, trying to understand.
“Yes. Exactly. But he’s also mixing them up, which makes me think he’s just getting everything out of a book. The hanging man’s hand must be cut off while the victim is still hanging, but then it’s dried over a fire. If he truly knew what he was doing, he could eventually create a handyman as it were to carry out his orders. He did tie candles to the fingers, which, if you didn’t dip the hand in oil ahead of time to use as candles, then you’d do it that way.”
“I’m particularly interested in the string with the knots.”
Something in Remy’s voice, although he sounded very casual, maybe too casual, centered Bijou’s attention on the answer. Whatever that string meant, Remy considered important.
Eulalie nodded. “Ah, yes, that is a definite misfit of a ritual in the middle of all this. The seven knots in the string can be used to bind a woman or man to you, to ask for them to love you, but the string should be put under your pillow, not into a bowl of blood. He turned the string red using the blood, but it isn’t the same thing. The candle is thrown into running water. And there were no symbols on the ground anywhere. No protections. No god or deity or even a demon he’s distinctly calling on. Nothing at all to say what he’s doing. Remy, these rituals are sacred. We don’t abuse them and we don’t dare make mistakes. You don’t play around with this.”
“Thanks, Eulalie,” Remy said. “Can I call you on your cell if I need to discuss more with you?”
“Of course. I’ll help in any way I can,” she assured. “Why was the string so important?”
“Because he’s never done it before,” Remy said.
5
IN the dark of Saria’s kitchen, Remy paced restlessly back and forth. He was silent, not making a sound as he moved across the tiled floor. His leopard was riding him hard and he knew he had to let the animal out for a run, but there was danger if what he suspected was true.
Blue was leopard. Well . . . maybe she was leopard. Remy considered the ramifications for her. Bijou had no idea who her mother was, and in any case, her mother, had she lived, would not have been able to tell her daughter about her heritage, just in case Bijou couldn’t shift. Bodrie was no leopard, and he certainly hadn’t known what he had in Bijou.
Female leopards didn’t emerge unless the human counterpart and the leopard both came into cycle at the same time. Only at that time could a woman’s leopard emerge for the first time. It was an extremely dangerous time for all male leopards. Blue would be extremely alluring and yet, if not ready, moody and edgy.
A few days ago, there in the store, Bijou’s eyes had changed from that amazing blue to a lethal glacier blue when Eulalie had kissed him on the cheek. Maybe Remy had wanted Bijou to be the one. He had all but given up looking for a mate, and now Bijou was back in his territory and in spite of the age difference, he couldn’t get his mind off of her. She was beautiful and intriguing. He knew she was intelligent. She was talented and had a good sense of humor. He liked being in her company.
He was man enough to admit to himself that he was a strong dominant and needed a woman who could stand up to him when he became too overbearing, as Saria often accused him of being. His career was important to him. He believed what he did made a difference and often he was gone long hours. He needed a woman