Page 8 of The Fang Arrangement (Celestial Witches #2)

Me

How many days should I wait to reach out so I don’t seem desperate?

Samantha

Why pretend to be something you're not?

I groan as I tap my fingers against the center console of the vehicle, sliding my phone into my pocket. Achille is driving us back from handling another possible slaying. I should contact the council, let them know one is in my area, but I don’t truly want to deal with those pompous fucks.

I’ll handle this all myself; the last thing I need is for them snooping around when I’m trying to get closer to Ember.

“I want to make a pit stop,” I say, realizing Samantha is right, might as well own how desperate I am.

“The witch’s cottage?” he asks. He was one of my men who picked her up that night, so I don’t immediately question how he knows this information.

Paranoid , I chant to myself. Outside of Samantha, he’s the only other vampire I would ever consider trusting with the truth. I knew Achille when he was human, he was Oz’s driver before he was turned and kept the same station in the nest.

He’s loyal, dependable, and if I’m not mistaken, he seems more at ease after Oz’s death as well.

“Yes.”

He doesn’t ask me any further questions like Conner does, and he doesn’t get on my case like Samantha. But he shocks me as we get closer to Ember’s home and he breaks our usual silence.

“You don’t plan on changing her, do you?” he asks.

I arch a brow at him, wondering why the fuck it’s any of his business.

“I don’t know,” I answer him honestly, though I try to tamper down my irritation.

He taps his finger on his steering wheel a few times. “If you were to go back all those years ago, can you honestly say you would choose this?”

“I’m not sure if I would or not,” I say and he nods.

When we approach her house, it’s the same as the last time I saw it. A wrought-iron gate that could use some maintenance surrounds the parameter. Her yard is filled with flowers, the greenery is overabundant, nearly taking your eye away from the small home nestled along the entry way path.

“Should I stay?”

“No. Thank you, Achille.”

When I’m out of the car, he drives off and I stare at her home.

I’ve spent many nights out by this tree just staring at what I couldn’t have.

I’d watch her through the windows as she used her magic to braid her hair, or cook a meal.

She often sits on her couch and speaks with her overly large raccoon familiar.

It’s a peculiar familiar to have, but I suppose Ember is no ordinary witch.

Watching her has become habitual, a type of indulgence that I always edged myself with. Never once did I consider knocking on her door or approaching her. Distance was best for her, safest.

If Oz knew what she was to me, he would have killed her.

Now that Oz is dead, I still have to worry about her safety, but I’m done waiting.

I’m probably still selfish for wedging my way into her life, but fate was always determined to bring us together, even if she doesn’t have a clue.

I’ll protect her and give her the tools to protect herself.

Even if this magic between us is only one-sided, I’ll keep her safe until I’m no longer walking this earth.

The gate creaks as I open it, and it clunks against the lock as it shuts behind me.

“Ah! Everyone fly for your lives, he’s going to drain us dry,” a high-pitched voice screams and I roll my eyes.

Of course the witch has a penchant for saving homeless little fairies. I’d seen them from afar, the way they bitch and complain about every single thing. Yet, Ember is patient with them, providing them with everything they need.

My witch enjoys caring for things, nurturing them.

It’s a ridiculous concept. The moment the little shits bitched about the type of flowers she planted on the west-end of the property, I probably would have eaten them like Tootsie Rolls.

My mouth waters when I think of the candy I haven’t had in over a century, though I know of something that’s far sweeter than any candy I’ve ever had.

She’s tucked away in a pretty pink cottage, in need of my assistance to complete her spell.

“Do you know how much blood is in a fairy?” I shout, with my hands in the air. “I’d have to rip off all your heads and only get a drop of blood. Not worth it, though I do hear fairies are quite delicious,” I jest, not able to help myself.

There are more high-pitched screams as I watch the fairies all fly onto the porch of Ember’s cottage. A small wooden door opening that the human eye wouldn’t spot slams shut.

The steps to Ember’s porch creak as I walk up them.

I never dared to actually go on her property.

I never let myself get too close, worried about how I’d react.

The first time I tasted her, I knew what she was to me, what power she held over me.

It was decades of restraint, self-hatred, and fear that kept me in check.

I’m a weak immortal being for giving in, for dooming her to be tethered to me. Yet, I can’t seem to give a fuck as I hold up my hand and lightly tap against her door frame.

She swings the door open quickly; the speed whipping her wild pinkish hair behind her. She looks me up and down with her soft green eyes, like she’s unimpressed and it has me grinning.

“So you're why the fairies are being frantic,” she says, one hand on the handle of her door and the other on her hip.

I glance inside her home, not able to pass the threshold. There are areas I haven’t been able to see from my typical lurking spots.

Her hefty raccoon comes to the door, a chittering noise escaping him, and I can only imagine what the ancient creature has to say to his bonded witch.

Ember purses her full lips and I stare at them a moment. They’re full and pouty and absolutely turned down with my presence.

“May I come in?” I ask.

“Absolutely not. What do you want?”

I shove my hands in my pockets and shrug. “Was just here to see how you were coming along on the first spell. Perhaps you needed some assistance.”

“Perhaps not. I got it working just fine on my own, thank you very much,” she says, wiggling her fingers, showing me the sparkling ring that sits on her ring finger.

Little does she know the significance to me, that every time I see that ring on her finger I picture it as my claim on her. It suddenly dawns on me that if she completed the spell that she had the help of another vampire.

There’s no fucking way.

There isn’t a vampire in a hundred miles who would dare help a witch with something like this.

Unbridled rage fills me as I grab the frame of her door with both hands, making myself larger.

“And who might I ask gave you what you needed?”

Her eyes narrow at me. Maybe it’s because she knows I can’t come into her home. There’s also our vow that I’ll never cause her harm. Little does she know she’s cast it twice now and there was never a vow necessary. I’d never dare to harm her.

“Me. I handled it. Did you just come here to check on my progress, or is there something else you need?”

“Whose blood was it, Ember?”

She arches a brow at me, unimpressed with my line of questioning.

“Does it matter?”

“What did they look like? Who the fuck gave you their blood? Did you drink it?” I question, my rage ratcheting up too quickly.

“Hmm, you know, I didn’t get a good look at him. I think he was maybe taller than you.”

“What was his name, witch?” I ask, my anger festering.

I never thought I’d be anything like Oz, but I am considering hunting down this vampire and staking him right in the heart for even approaching her.

“I didn’t catch his name, it was all rather quick,” she says with an arch of her brow.

Without even realizing it, my grip on her door frame tightens. It splinters and cracks under my palms as chips of wood fall to the ground between us.

She looks down at the mess on her porch, then back up at me before clicking her tongue and slamming the door in my face.

I blink at the door, not remembering the last time anyone dared to disrespect me in that way.

“Don’t come back until you fix the frame!” she shouts from behind the door.

“Open the door, Ember!” I shout back.

She doesn’t answer me or open the door and I stand there dumbfounded; she truly just slammed the door in my face and all but told me to fuck off.

I stare at the closed door a while longer, along with the mess I made with my tantrum. I pull out my phone, scrolling with unbelievable speed as I place an order at the home improvement store.

As I’m checking out, a nagging voice interrupts my thoughts, a voice I know all too well.

“Really fucked that up, didn’t you, War?”

I pinch my nose, and glare at the shutters next to the door where my bat familiar is all but snickering at me in her head.

Humans got some things right, but assuming we turned into bats was pretty far from the truth.

Just like witches, vampires have their own familiar, with some significant differences.

One being that vampire familiars only ever bond with one vampire, when their vampire meets their death, so do they.

The other is the way we’re able to communicate, it’s all telepathic.

It’s another way I’ve been able to keep tabs on Ember all these years.

“Mind your business, Betty,” I tell her through the mind connection we have.

“Oh, shall I unfurl myself out of this shutter and go about my day then? Do you know how insufferable these fairies are? I guess I’ll also keep the very vital information of whose blood it was too.”

“Don’t be petty, Betty.”

“I should be. You’re being a dick. Apparently, I’m not the only one who feels this way, either.”

“You can have the next three nights off, do whatever you please,” I tell her.

I see her small beady black eyes through the slats, and I swear I can sense a smile cross her features.

“She’s a smart one, your Ember. She used the blood on her dress from the night Baptiste was slain.”

Her words click then, that she didn’t catch his name, that it was fast. Though she still toyed with me, making me think a living vampire gave her their blood.

“You’re free to go.”

With a high-pitched squeak, she squeezes herself through the slats and flies away.

“Good luck, you’re going to need it,” she chimes in before flying completely out of viewing distance.

I finally place my order, an involuntary smile taking over my face as I stare at my witch’s door.

Maybe my sweet, caring Ember will survive me yet.