evil spirits. Never understood that, I thought. What does she need protection from, anyway? She’s the evil one.
“Madame. You have visitors,” a small woman with a round face announced, and knelt gracefully before Samira’s reverential throne.
“Leave,” she demanded from her wicked place, the gothic altar she called home. Her long dagger nails draped across the extravagant crimson layers of her gown; she lightly lifted the gown’s skirt and glided to the blazing fireplace situated behind the throne.
“Yes, Madame.” The small woman left me with Gabe and Audrey, then scurried away, closing the wooden doors behind her. An image of Camille flickered in my mind, her face as I left her in the bayou. So broken, so confused. How could I have left her like that?
I turned my thoughts off, afraid Samira might penetrate them. I knew she didn’t have access to our coven’s thoughts; the magic limited her. But my instincts told me to take any and every caution.
“Hello, Samira,” I replied, edged forward to stand in front of my friends. I hovered near the bottom of the granite steps, examined the sides of her Louis XV chair, my eyes searching for the wolves. She remained quiet, her back to me as she stared adoringly into the fire. Her bouffant raven locks sat perfectly disheveled on top of her head, outlining her chiseled figure in the light of the flames.
“Not to worry,” she finally spoke, “Gérard’s spell is still intact. Your thoughts are safe.” She swung around to face me. “I am your creator, but he is the author as you very well know.” She winked, wrapped the mojo bag’s string tighter around her wrist, hugged it closer to her skin. “Truly, there is nothing more powerful than fire. It is most alluring in every way.” Her rich Russian tongue cut fiercely as she spoke, with both precision and patience. “Warm and welcoming, it promises you comfort, life, endurance, and inevitably pain—for those who do not know how to respect its mighty sovereignty.”
She smiled, her statuesque frame an intimidating canvas of self-assurance. “Surely, those that underestimate the privilege of its very presence will fall victim to peril.”
Still facing me, she stretched out a hand and placed her fingers into the flames, amused as they danced harmlessly across her skin. “Fire is a loyal friend, do you agree Gavin?” She floated down the steps to meet me, swinging her gown’s lace train behind her.
“With all due respect, Madame, I believe silence is the most loyal,” I answered, speaking sternly as I extended my hand. “It never fails to tell you the truth.”
She snickered, allowed me to kiss her hand. “We will have to agree to disagree, then.”
I nodded, stepped back to stand with Gabe and Audrey. “Samira, you remember Gabe.”
“But of course, it is a pleasure.” She smiled curtly, dragged her nails across his chest, a curious creature who couldn’t resist toying with a new object of interest.
“And … this is someone you haven’t met yet.” I looked over at Audrey, watched as Gabe approached Samira with her, his arm cautiously around her waist.
“Audrey. Welcome to our prestigious family. So happy you could join us, my child.” Again, her inquisitive nails couldn’t resist. She raked them through Audrey’s hair, her fierce eyes assessing her new child.
“Th-th-thank you,” Audrey stumbled, eying the daggers warily.
“You’ve heard about Audrey, have you?” Gabe said.
“News travels quickly here, you know. Like wildfire.”
“Apparently,” he mumbled, glanced at me.
“Come closer, my new child. Let me see that pretty face.” Samira tilted her head to seek out Audrey’s’ timid eyes, pleased by her fear. “You know, we are family now. We should become better acquainted. Why is it you have decided to join our family, my love?”
Audrey’s eyes reluctantly darted toward Gabe before she answered. “I wanted to be with Gabe and I— I admire your family, Your Majesty.”
“Hhhhmmm, I see,” she breathed, her crystal blue eyes fixed on Audrey’s neck, nails lightly peeling across her collarbone. “Dali. Akim. Come.”
She lifted her chin, looked to one side of her, then the other. Two magnificent gray wolves appeared amongst the room’s shadows, from where they had been lurking. They stalked past the rows of dimly lit candelabras toward their master, stationed themselves next to her, one on each side. Their eyes matching hers, they stared at us, waited for their next command. Gabe and I exchanged looks, cautioned one another as the wolves joined our company. They were Samira’s old conjure mates in wolf form, and as far as I