Anne Bishop - Belladonna

“Take your hands off my wife.”

Hearing the “or else” under the command, Michael released the woman, took a step back, and took stock of how much trouble he was in.

The blond-haired man on his left was holding a sharp table knife, but not in a way that said he was used to street fighting. On another day, the two shaggy, horned creatures that looked like bulls walking on their hind legs would have scared him out of half his wits—especially since one of them was carrying a club and the other had a large knife, and they did look like they knew a lot about street fighting. But it was the dark-haired man coming up on his right that held Michael’s attention. He was dressed in black leather and had cold green eyes, and there was something about the way he rubbed his thumb against the fingertips of his right hand that produced a ball of fear in Michael’s gut.

The woman hesitated a moment, then shifted enough to half block the man’s approach. “Sebastian,” she said, taking hold of his arm with both hands.

So this was Sebastian, the Justice Maker who was going to decide his fate. I’m a dead man.

“He wasn’t trying to hurt me,” she said. “His sister is missing, lost in the landscapes.”

“And this is how he responds to finding his sister?”

The woman’s mouth primmed as she looked at Michael and made a lightning-flash decision. “I’ve been told that men who are scared tend to yell at a loved one as a way of showing relief. Which is totally unfair since the person being yelled at has already had a difficult time because otherwise she wouldn’t have been late. But unfair or not, I’ve been told that this is a male thing to do and men have to be forgiven, eventually, when they do it.”

Irritation tightened Sebastian’s mouth when the blond-haired man choked back a laugh, but it was enough to break the coldness in his eyes.

“I thought we agreed that discussion was finished,” Sebastian said.

“It is finished,” she agreed. “I was just reminding you of it.”

He would have found the domestic byplay more amusing if his life didn’t depend on Sebastian’s temper.

The woman looked at Michael. “You came here to find your sister.”

“I came here by mistake,” he replied.

“No one comes to the Den by mistake,” Sebastian said. “By accident, yes, but not by mistake.”

Michael nodded to indicate he understood the distinction. “By accident then.”

“The Merry Makers brought him across the border in order to see you,” Addison said from behind Michael.

“Why?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m looking for the answer to a riddle,” Michael replied. It wasn’t really a riddle anymore since he’d already figured out “belladonna” was a woman and not the plant, but if he kept these people intrigued about why he was among them, he might be able to talk his way out of this place.

“You said you were looking for your sister,” the woman said, shifting so she no longer blocked Sebastian’s right hand.

Damn the darkness, these people were too suspicious of strangers to be intrigued by anything. And if the woman stopped believing his reason for grabbing her…He had a feeling Sebastian could kill him in cold blood right here on the street and no one would say a thing about it.

“I am looking for my sister,” he said, putting all the conviction he could into his voice, “and the answer to this riddle. I’m thinking finding one is the only way of finding the other.”

Sebastian stared at him. “What’s the riddle?”

“Heart’s hope lies within belladonna.”

He didn’t expect a reaction, so he wasn’t sure what it meant when Sebastian rocked back on his heels as if he’d just felt a fist jab him in the ribs.

“Who are you?” Sebastian asked.

“Michael. The Magician.”

No response to the word. Might have given him some leverage if they’d been a bit fearful of him. Then again, he wasn’t sure being an ill-wisher measured up to whatever “deadly magics” Sebastian wielded.

“I’m Sebastian Justicemaker,” Sebastian said. “This is my wife, Lynnea,” He tipped his head to indicate the blond-haired man. “That’s Teaser.”

Michael nodded to Lynnea, then to the blond-haired man, who just gave him a measuring look before returning to his table.

Sebastian lightly touched Lynnea’s shoulder. “Why don’t you clear that far table and ask Philo to bring some food.”

“Best make it downwind,” Michael muttered, pinching his shirt. Since everything he owned had gone into the bog, everything smelled like the bog. “I’d be grateful for some food and something warm to drink. And some water.”

The customers at the chosen table were shifted to another, and Michael noticed no one grumbled about the change in seating. At least, not out loud. He washed his hands in the bowl of warm water that was offered, glad to have that much clean. The beverage Lynnea called koffee was hot and strong, which made him realize how cold and tired he was.

“I suppose you want the whole story,” Michael said after Lynnea delivered the food—thick stew, slices of fresh bread generously buttered, a white cheese, and some round black objects in their own small bowl.

“Be careful biting into the olives,” Sebastian said, pointing at the small bowl. “They have pits. Eat while it’s hot. Then I’ll listen.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He dug into the meal, but he studied the street and the people while he ate. Strange place. There was a mean edge that reminded him of the streets around the docks in Kendall, and certainly enough taverns…

A beautiful woman strolled toward the table, gave him an assessing look, then smiled in blatant invitation. Michael felt the heat of a blush as he looked down at his meal and pretended not to see the invitation.

…and there were brazen streetwalkers.

“What do you think of the carnal carnival?” Sebastian asked, sounding amused.

That was the perfect way to describe the Den of Iniquity, Michael thought. “It’s interesting.”

“You’ve never seen a succubus before?”

“A what?”

“The female who made you blush.” There was something about Sebastian’s smile that was sharp and just a little mean.

“Is that what you call streetwalkers here?” Michael asked, looking up to meet Sebastian’s eyes.

“No, that’s what we call female sex demons.”

Michael’s jaw dropped. He’d heard of such females from a few sailors who had docked at Kendall, but he’d figured the men were just telling tales.

Sebastian’s smile got a little sharper. “A male sex demon is called an incubus.” He raised his koffee cup in a mocking salute.

“Lady’s mercy,” Michael whispered.

“More koffee?” Lynnea asked, coming up to the table. She looked at Michael and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“He’s just wondering why a sensible woman would want an incubus for a husband,” Sebastian said.

“That’s because he’s not female,” Lynnea replied as she refilled their cups. “If he was, he’d know why a sensible woman would want you for a husband.”

Michael took his time stirring a lump of sugar into the koffee, trying to decide if prudence or curiosity would win the battle of whether or not he kept his questions to himself.

Prudence had no chance of winning.

“Those men,” he said. “They’re going into a brothel?”

Sebastian nodded.

“Do they know the woman…the female…is a…”

“That’s why they come to the Den.”

Teaser set a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the table. “Philo figured it was time for this.”

“Philo was right,” Sebastian said, his eyes never leaving Michael’s face. “Teaser is an incubus. As far as the women who cross over to visit are concerned, he’s one of the Den’s assets.”