Chapter 12

A Familiar Accelerant

Athena had to marvel as the efficiency of the de Clermonts. Their trip to London was arranged before they had even sat down to eat that evening. This time, Athena had showered and changed. She'd noticed the brief scowl that flitted across Baldwin's face when he could no longer smell his scent on her, but given his need to slow down, she was just respecting is request, at least as she saw it. But, if she was honest, she rather liked keeping him on his toes. She knew he was used to keeping all aspects of his life tightly under his command, which included everyone in it. She was one aspect he would never be able to control, but she had a feeling that he would do his best to try.

As he sat down at the head of the table, he took a sip of wine. "The plane will be waiting for us at 7am."

Athena stared at him. "7am? Don't you people sleep?" she huffed.

"Not really. I thought you'd want to get there as soon as possible?"

"It's across the bloody channel! It'll barely take an hour. You couldn't have arranged it for 9am? Or later?"

Baldwin huffed and pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen to text a change in their plans. Athena smirked slightly, and Ysabeau gave a slight nod of her head in approval. She loved nothing more than to see Baldwin's carefully laid plans come crashing down.

"Done. 9am." He stashed away his phone, ignoring the smug look on Athena's face.

"Did the Congregation say anything else except that they would be investigating? I'm surprised that they didn't demand my testimony," Athena said to Ysabeau.

"They said very little. They rarely show all of their cards. It also depends on what your mother said to them to make them act."

"Oh, I'm sure she said only what she thought she needed to reveal. The fact that I survived and Della didn't, is likely making her bitter," Athena said, popping a small piece of venison into her mouth.

"Is there really nothing that can be done to repair the relationship between you and your mother?" Ysabeau asked.

Athena shook her head. "No. There's never been a relationship to repair. I wasn't raised by her, I was merely a lodger in the family home. An inconvenience. Della was important to her because she was her link to the future. I don't think she ever saw either of us as her children. Della was a magical extension of herself. I was a tumour she wanted nothing more than to cut out. I can only thank the Gods that my father didn't die before Della and escaped."

"How was her relationship with your father? They must have loved each other," Ysabeau mused.

"Once perhaps. When Della was small. Me being born changed everything. I think mum resented that he willingly took on the responsibility to raise me when she wouldn't. I don't think she ever forgave me for burning her on the way out," she said, smirking.

Ysabeau stared at her. "You... burned her... whilst being born?"

"I wasn't exactly in full control of my power at a few seconds old! Besides, she could have take some protective measures after Della saw that I would be on fire. I wasn't on fire for long, luckily. Dad knew instantly that keeping me happy helped me to keep the flames at bay, and Della could always see when I would likely have an outburst."

"Your fire responds to anger," Ysabeau noted.

"Uncontrolled fire responds to anger." She gave them both a grin, her eyes alighting. "I might be hot-headed, but control is the first thing a witch learns. Power in uncontrolled hands is dangerous to everyone."

"It's true that witchfire cannot be doused? Only the witch herself can extinguish the fire?" Baldwin asked.

Athena nodded, taking a sip of wine. She was becoming rather fond of Baldwin's bold choices. She hadn't liked Matthews. "Yes, that's true. I think only a weaver could extinguish witchfire, in lieu of a fire witch."

"You must realise how rare such power is?" he asked.

"Of course I do. I'm still not sure where it comes from. The Solart line doesn't have witchfire in its lineage. Seers and earth witches mainly. I suppose it's possible it comes from my father, but he was human, and five years dead. As far as I know, he doesn't have any family."

"Earth witch abilities are considered the most useful, are they not? It allows you to not only master spells and potions, but gives you dominion over the natural world?"

"Useful is a point of view. I think practical is probably a better descriptor. Spells and potions are a witch's bread and butter, like mild telekinesis." She held out her hand and focussed on the wine decanter, the crystal receptacle sliding across the wood and into her hand. "Being able to fly can be useful. Controlling water and wind so you can control the weather can be useful. I don't have those abilities, any more than I have psychic abilities."

Baldwin watched as the crystal found its way into her hand. He'd not seen her use such magic, and had only vaguely heard his tower door slam shut when they were otherwise engaged. He hadn't considered that most witches could summon items to them in such a basic fashion, but it made sense. What intrigued him more, was how her bloodsong increased in its rhythm, much as it had when she was dancing. Her body, her soul, everything about her came alive when she was doing what came naturally. Her magic, her movement, her fiery spirit, it was all part of who she was. He swallowed hard and masked his rising desire with a deep drink of his wine.

Once again, he was doubting if staying around her was the best idea, given how she made him feel. No, not made him. No matter how out of control of himself he felt around her, it wasn't forced. But it was frustrating. He'd had hundreds of beautiful women in his life, even loved a few of them. Desire wasn't uncommon for him, and he was glad to accept offers when he felt the need to. He tried to rationalise that this was no different, that he simply desired her. But then, if this was true, why did he care to slow down? Why couldn't he simply enjoy their attraction for as long as it lasted? She had said it herself, she wasn't going to break simply because they decided that mutual pleasure was a momentary benefit to them. She certainly wanted him as much as he did her.

The evening drew on, and Ysabeau found herself intrigued with Athena's dancing career, asking about her training and experiences, even delighting in some demonstrations of her skill. Baldwin remained quiet, finishing off the rest of the wine and sending Marthe for more. He tried not to watch Athena as she danced in front of the main fireplace, but she moved so fluidly and gracefully, that he couldn't help but be as mesmerised as Ysabeau seemed to be. She was glowing. A shimmering yellow light as bright as the sun itself, her eyes alight with her inner fire. He wanted to immerse himself in her, even if it meant he would be burned. He tried desperately to will his body back under his control, trying to ignore the looks he was getting from Marthe at the increase in his pulse, and he was grateful that the table was hiding the visible interest threatening to burst through his trousers.

Wanting to give Athena something to dance to, Ysabeau set the phonogram going, and Baldwin used the moment to flee the room and back to his tower. Distance only helped so much, so he busied himself with packing and repacking a bag. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd done so, and he'd torn up one of his best shirts in frustration. He was tempted to go hunting, but he wasn't hungry enough to warrant it, knowing it would only serve to fuel his animal need.

He knew what he needed. No doubt, the rest of the household knew what he needed. Matthew had known what he needed when they'd argued about it. So why couldn't he accept it? He knew she wanted him, she'd accepted it so readily and so quickly, and she certainly presented herself as someone who wasn't afraid of her sexual needs, given what he'd found in her bedside drawer. He wasn't afraid of a woman who knew her own body, it rather increased his want. If he was honest, he rather hated having to teach a woman about her own body. He was perfectly skilled to do so, but he felt it rather denoted a lack of willing on his partner's part, to take responsibility for her own needs. Unlike the plastic and rubber of Athena's bedroom drawer, he wasn't a vampire sex aid.

After an hour of brooding and clothes sorting, he'd retired to a chair in front of the fire, and was reading through some old journals, trying to absorb himself in the past, when things were infinitely both less and more complicated in equal measure.

By this time, Athena had gone up to bed, momentarily lingering in the corridor to Baldwin's room as she considered going to see him. Remembering his words about slowing down, she grudgingly went to her own rooms, though her body protested as she turned in for the night.

By the morning, both of them had wished that they had left at 7am. Athena had been awake at 6am, feeling just as frustrated as she had when she went to bed. Baldwin faired no better, and was in a foul mood when he finally showed his face at breakfast, Marthe filling his wine glass partly with blood more than half a dozen times.

Athena was quiet when she appeared, ignoring Baldwin's glowering presence as he tries his hardest to look engrossed in the financial section of the morning paper. She sat at the opposite end of the table and Marthe brought her smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on toast, and a freshly squeezed orange juice to wash it down with. The atmosphere could have been cut with a knife, and Marthe didn't stand around to attempt to lighten the mood.

Athena ate in silence, trying to ignore the crinkle of paper as Baldwin flipped the pages, making no effort to be quiet, not that he normally did anyway.

Athena huffed. "So. Place in London. Is there anywhere you don't have a place?"

"No. I have a residence in almost every major financial city. My current place of residence is in New York."

"Must be nice to be a millionaire," she quipped.

Baldwin looked at her over his paper. "Millionaire? I wouldn't get out of bed for a million. Try trillionaire."

Athena stared at him, her eggs forgotten. "That's disgusting."

"That's vampire life. It's not all mine, you realise. It is split into various trusts, funds, and companies, otherwise my name would be all over the Forbes list for wealthiest man on the planet. Hardly keeping a low profile away from humans."

She tossed her napkin onto her plate and stood up. He sounded far too smug for her early morning frustration. "I'm going to finish packing."

"We'll be leaving here at 8:30," he called after her.

She'd heard him but didn't respond. She actually didn't need to pack, but she did need to get away from his frosty self-righteous ego. She spent the time before leaving reading the grimoire, looking at various protective spells. They were small, designed only to protect small holdings and individuals, and only temporary, but they would work for individual encounters. She'd been assured that the last time her flat was checked, no one had been inside except Marcus and Baldwin, but something told her that it wouldn't remain so.

They took Baldwin's private helicopter to the airport, where his business credentials sped them through to the de Clermont jet. The flight was quiet, and Athena spent it looking through more spells, whilst Baldwin tapped away on a laptop. They still hadn't spoken much, and the tension from Sept-Tours had followed them. Athena wondered if this was what he meant by slowing down. She didn't have his superior senses, but if she could tell he was frustrated, he must surely know she was equally so.

As it was, he did indeed know she was frustrated. He'd smelled it on her when she'd come down for breakfast. He hadn't smelled pleasure, so he knew she hadn't taken care of her frustration. He didn't know whether to be glad for it, or annoyed that he couldn't smell just how delicious she was after a climax, when all her pheromones exploded and her witch blood increased in its strength. He longed to experience it again, and though despite his insistence on slowing things down, he was honestly struggling to remember why.

Fortunately, the plane landing interrupted any more thoughts of regret. They were whisked through customs and into the private car waiting for them, thanks again to Baldwin's connections. It didn't take long to reach Cheshunt, and Athena was opening the door just as the car stopped, looking around at the place as though she expected to be attacked in broad daylight. It was a little paranoid, but given how she was taken the first time, she didn't want to become complacent.

Baldwin was right behind her when she opened the front door, checking the lock to see if it had been picked. It hadn't. At least, it wasn't obvious that it might have been. She went up the main stairs and to her flat on the top floor, putting her key in the flat door lock, turning it quietly and pushing the door gently open.

Just as she was about to step inside, Baldwin threw a hand out and blocked her way. "Wait..." he whispered, his nostrils flaring. "Someone is here..." he stated, looking at her. "I can smell them... And hear a faint heart..."

"What does it smell like?"

"Vanilla... Grapefruit..." he whispered back, wrinkling his nose at the odd combination.

Athena sighed and pushed on his arm to let her in. "Fuck... It's mum..."

Baldwin relented after a few moments, but kept close to her as she searched first the living area, her room, and the kitchen, then made her way to Della's room, kicking the door open, startling the waif-like woman who was rummaging through draws.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Athena yelled, Baldwin glaring at the woman from behind her.

Charlotte stared back, stunned at the interruption, but then shot the most disgusted look she could at both Athena and Baldwin.

"How could you bring that THING here?!" Charlotte screeched.

Behind Athena, Baldwin growled at being called a thing. He was used to the sneering looks from the witches on the Congregation, but he never tolerated being called a thing.

"Don't you dare call him that! He saved my life!"

Baldwin was momentarily shocked at her defence of him. She had already thanked him once for rescuing her, but this was the first time that she'd openly acknowledged that he'd saved her life. All previous frustration was forgotten, and he stepped closer to her, preparing to defend her, should he need to.

"Disgusting! Associating with vampires! And you would allow him here to defile your sister's room!" Charlotte spat.

"It's none of your business who I associate with! And you have no right to be here! You don't even have a key! How the fuck did you get in?" Athena shouted back.

"You're not the only witch in this family," Charlotte sneered, a thick file in her right hand.

"Witch. Pathetic excuse for a witch! A lock picking spell? That's your greatest magic? What use were you when we needed you?! Do you have any idea what was done to us? How long we were held?" Her eyes were beginning to glow in anger, then she noticed the file. "Give that to me. NOW!"

Charlotte sneered and held the file to her chest, stepping back. Athena let out a growl of her own, and even Baldwin was impressed by the ferocity she was able to summon. She then outstretched her right hand and summoned the file, her telekinetic abilities stronger than her mother's weak hold on the file. It yanked out of Charlotte's grasp and into Athena's hand.

"GIVE THAT BACK!" Charlotte screeched, moving forward.

She stopped instantly when Athena ignited her left hand in warning. "Don't ever touch her things again. You have no right over anything of hers!"

"I am her mother!"

"Mother?! You never cared about her, you only cared about what she could do! What next vision she might have! Demanding more!"

"You know nothing of our bond! She was mine!" Charlotte cried, becoming the very definition of unstable as her hands shook.

"Yours? She was flesh and blood! She wasn't your personal scrying bowl! If she'd never have had a vision, you wouldn't have given a crap about her!"

"I was the only one who understood the burden of such power!"

"You don't have any power! You were jealous. That's why you wanted her close. You wanted her to make up for your failings. But I got her away from you so she could live her life freely, and you hated it!" Athena shouted.

Baldwin was starting to understand just why Athena disliked her mother. She was a horrid excuse for a warm blood, witch or not. He sensed no empathy or sorrow in her, and she certainly wasn't grateful to see that one of her daughters had survived.

"It's you, isn't it?! You're the one keeping her body from me!"

Baldwin stepped around to stand by Athena's side. "Actually, I'll have you know that you ensured that her body wouldn't be released, by reporting it as a murder to the Congregation. Her body won't be released until the investigation is over. It also means that all of her personal effects are to be placed in storage as evidence."

Her things... Athena clutched the file tighter, but then realised that the file might not have been all her mother had tried to lift. She held a hand up and quickly chanted a spell she'd been using to find lost items for years.

"Totum occultatum revelare!"

Baldwin recognised the Latin. It was simple, and roughly translated to 'reveal all hidden'. Charlotte's clothes immediately started to shake and jingle as pieces of jewellery and trinkets flew out, landing on the floor and the bed, followed lastly by Della's will, which flew directly into Athena's hand. She stared at it a moment, then placed it inside the file.

"Get out! You're trespassing," Athena growled.

For a moment, it seemed as though she might continue to protest, but the presence of an angry, burly vampire made her think twice. She glared one last time at them both, and then scurried out, causing Baldwin to wrinkle his nose at her strange scent as it wafted past his nose.

Athena sat heavily on Della's bed, pulling out the will. She'd had no idea that her sister had ever made one. "I'm going to have to move... She won't keep away for long. She doesn't have the power to take me on, but that won't stop her from trying to rally one of the covens to her."

"Where will you go?" he asked, moving to pick up the various items that had flown out of Charlotte's clothing.

"I don't know. I can't afford a place in London itself. Can't really afford this place on my own."

"I could take you back to Sept-Tours. There's plenty of room for you there, and I think Marthe rather likes having someone to cook for," Baldwin offered.

"No. I can't live there," she said, shaking her head.

"You don't like it?"

"It's not a question of like. It's not my home. I don't have my life there. My life is here. I work in London. I won't be chased away."

Baldwin thought for a moment, then decided on something, leaving the room to use his phone. Athena looked around the room. She hadn't been in here since before they were both taken. It still looked exactly as it had, save for the few drawers that her mother had tried to ransack. Leaving this place would feel like running away, but she had to be practical. She couldn't hold off an entire coven if they did decide to seek her out.