his communication crystal one last look before he returned to the hut.
“Get in here, boy!” Granmare Baba hollered.
Balthazar ducked into the hut and stopped at the door, letting his eyesight adjust to the gloom. His gaze skipped the tall, long-haired woman in leather pants and a corset standing by the smoking caldron and landed on the girl sitting on the cot. Arianne seemed in one piece. But with Granmare Baba, you could never be too sure. The only difference? A curling tattoo wrapping around Arianne’s neck like a choker and a ring with a slowly pulsing black gem on her index finger.
“Admiring my handiwork?” Granmare Baba asked, her long fingers clutching her narrow hips. “It took a while for me to completely mask her scent.”
“The tattoo,” Balthazar said, never taking his eyes off Arianne. He let his other senses assure him Granmare Baba hadn’t messed with the girl. No one else had that right.
“You were always a smart one.” The witch gave him a flirtatious smile that he ignored. “A foolish boy, but a smart one.” She reached for Arianne’s neck. The girl had the sense to stay still. “The mark will deter anyone who thinks she is more than she is. They will see a slave, not a morsel from the human world.”
Her hand shot out and wrapped around Balthazar’s wrist. A burning sensation kept him from pulling away. The same blue smoke that curled out of the chimney escaped between his skin and Granmare Baba’s hand. When the witch let go, she left behind the same tattoo design on his wrist.
“What did you do?” Balthazar growled. Screw the don’t speak until spoken to rule.
She laughed—a scratchy throat sound that didn’t match the sexpot standing in front of him. “I merely masked her scent with yours. For the duration of this journey, she is attached to you as your servant.” She lifted her hand when Balthazar continued to growl at her. “You are facing the Voyeur. That jealous whore will not touch her if she thinks the girl is your slave.”
Balthazar reined in the urge to ring the old hag’s neck.
“Good boy,” she said, treating Balthazar like a loyal hound. “You know I am right. I increased her chances of survival by tethering her to you.”
“I would have protected her just fine.” He was no longer growling, but Balthazar still bared his teeth at the witch and hissed. “You didn’t have to bind us!”
She laughed again. “But it’s more fun this way.” Then she sobered. “Now, your payment, if you please.”
“I shouldn’t—”
A dark aura spiked out of Granmare Baba. Her hair danced like snakes around her head. Her eyes turned all white. “Don’t even think of reneging on your payment, Balthazar.”
Seeing no other way out, Balthazar took a needle from an inside pocket of his coat and pricked the tip of his finger. A ruby red drop gathered. The aura around Granmare Baba disappeared. She moved closer, groping for Balthazar’s hand like a hungry street child. She took the tip of Balthazar’s finger into her mouth and licked away the drop. Balthazar stood still, watching the witch closely. Before she could take more than his promised drop, he yanked his hand away and closed the wound. The witch licked her lips like a cat finished with a bowl of cream.
“I missed the taste of you, Balthazar. You have matured with age,” she said between smacks of her black lips. “Your sweet, sweet blood has always been my favorite.”
“The ring?” he asked.
“When the gem stops pulsing, you are too late,” she purred.
“And the information?”
“She knows enough not to make mistakes.”
Balthazar looked at Arianne, who nodded at him once. He hooked his finger at her, and she immediately stood up, slinging her pack over her shoulder. Granmare Baba closed her hand around Arianne’s arm, stopping the girl from coming to him.
“Uh, uh, uh.” She shook her head. “You must be forgetting something.”
Reaching into another pocket, Balthazar tossed
“Get in here, boy!” Granmare Baba hollered.
Balthazar ducked into the hut and stopped at the door, letting his eyesight adjust to the gloom. His gaze skipped the tall, long-haired woman in leather pants and a corset standing by the smoking caldron and landed on the girl sitting on the cot. Arianne seemed in one piece. But with Granmare Baba, you could never be too sure. The only difference? A curling tattoo wrapping around Arianne’s neck like a choker and a ring with a slowly pulsing black gem on her index finger.
“Admiring my handiwork?” Granmare Baba asked, her long fingers clutching her narrow hips. “It took a while for me to completely mask her scent.”
“The tattoo,” Balthazar said, never taking his eyes off Arianne. He let his other senses assure him Granmare Baba hadn’t messed with the girl. No one else had that right.
“You were always a smart one.” The witch gave him a flirtatious smile that he ignored. “A foolish boy, but a smart one.” She reached for Arianne’s neck. The girl had the sense to stay still. “The mark will deter anyone who thinks she is more than she is. They will see a slave, not a morsel from the human world.”
Her hand shot out and wrapped around Balthazar’s wrist. A burning sensation kept him from pulling away. The same blue smoke that curled out of the chimney escaped between his skin and Granmare Baba’s hand. When the witch let go, she left behind the same tattoo design on his wrist.
“What did you do?” Balthazar growled. Screw the don’t speak until spoken to rule.
She laughed—a scratchy throat sound that didn’t match the sexpot standing in front of him. “I merely masked her scent with yours. For the duration of this journey, she is attached to you as your servant.” She lifted her hand when Balthazar continued to growl at her. “You are facing the Voyeur. That jealous whore will not touch her if she thinks the girl is your slave.”
Balthazar reined in the urge to ring the old hag’s neck.
“Good boy,” she said, treating Balthazar like a loyal hound. “You know I am right. I increased her chances of survival by tethering her to you.”
“I would have protected her just fine.” He was no longer growling, but Balthazar still bared his teeth at the witch and hissed. “You didn’t have to bind us!”
She laughed again. “But it’s more fun this way.” Then she sobered. “Now, your payment, if you please.”
“I shouldn’t—”
A dark aura spiked out of Granmare Baba. Her hair danced like snakes around her head. Her eyes turned all white. “Don’t even think of reneging on your payment, Balthazar.”
Seeing no other way out, Balthazar took a needle from an inside pocket of his coat and pricked the tip of his finger. A ruby red drop gathered. The aura around Granmare Baba disappeared. She moved closer, groping for Balthazar’s hand like a hungry street child. She took the tip of Balthazar’s finger into her mouth and licked away the drop. Balthazar stood still, watching the witch closely. Before she could take more than his promised drop, he yanked his hand away and closed the wound. The witch licked her lips like a cat finished with a bowl of cream.
“I missed the taste of you, Balthazar. You have matured with age,” she said between smacks of her black lips. “Your sweet, sweet blood has always been my favorite.”
“The ring?” he asked.
“When the gem stops pulsing, you are too late,” she purred.
“And the information?”
“She knows enough not to make mistakes.”
Balthazar looked at Arianne, who nodded at him once. He hooked his finger at her, and she immediately stood up, slinging her pack over her shoulder. Granmare Baba closed her hand around Arianne’s arm, stopping the girl from coming to him.
“Uh, uh, uh.” She shook her head. “You must be forgetting something.”
Reaching into another pocket, Balthazar tossed
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