Tall, Dark & Dead
Tate Hallaway



If only I hadn't been late.

When I opened the door, I'd expected some halfhearted admonishments from my coven for being tardy once again, a joke or two about "Garnet-time."

I hadn't expected all that blood.

Black spatters blotted the walls and floor, obscuring the white pentacle painted on the dining room floor. A dozen bodies lay in the center, curled into fetal positions as though trying to protect something. Eyes, usually full of amusement, glazed over, staring and empty.

All of the coven-my friends, all the family I had-were dead. Among the bodies walked the Vatican assassins who'd done it, calmly sprinkling holy water on battered faces, and, of all things, administering last rites.

They hadn't seen me yet. By the time they looked up, it was too late. I had summoned into me the Goddess Lilith, a terrible vengeance, and they saw their fate in the changing color of my eyes.

Lilith's eyes...

Content

First House

Second House

Third House

Fourth House

Fifth House

Sixth House

Seventh House

Eighth House

Ninth House

Tenth House

Eleventh House

Twelfth House

First House

Keywords:

Initiation, Personal Involvements, Trouble



What's the best way to keep Vatican Witch hunters off your scent? Dress to kill.

After clasping the last silver skull buckle on my knee-high, black leather, ass-whupping boots, I straightened my velvet miniskirt. The mini tended to ride up my thighs thanks to the sparkly spiderweb hose. I glanced out the bathroom door toward my closet, contemplating a change into a leather skirt. But I might be pushing the dress code already with my scandalous hemline, and as store manager I really needed to provide a good example for my coworkers. Or, as I liked to refer to them, my minions.

To finish off the look, I applied a layer of Egyptian kohl around my eyes. Regarding the result in the mirror, I smiled: total Goth chick. No one would take me seriously as a Witch dressed like this. A Vatican agent would take one look at the large, silver-plated ankh bouncing off the too-tight décolletage of my fanged Hello Kitty shirt and think:Poseur .

Exactly what I wanted.

Yeah, I'd be all right, as long as no one looked in my eyes long enough to seeHer lurking inside. Trouble was, my eyes tended to attract attention. I've had customers gasp when they looked into my eyes. Not a lot of people have purple eyes. Just me and Liz Taylor. And I think mine are prettier. But, really, I think I garner the stunned reaction because, on some instinctual level, people recognize Her, the Goddess inside me.

I've tried covering the color with tinted contacts-blue, brown, even black-but the Goddess always shines through. She wants me to have purple eyes, so purple eyes I have.

I checked my wallet for cash. My driver's license still said boring Minnesota-Norwegian blue; the picture showed a woman with shoulder-length blond hair, not a dyed-black pixie cut. The only thing accurate was my name: Garnet Lacey.

I needed to get to the DMV one of these days. I'd never tested for a Wisconsin license, even though I think I was legally required to do that within thirty days of moving. I'd left Minneapolis almost eight months ago now. The license was a last tie, and though it was a trivial one, my subconscious seemed reluctant to break it.

Just that quick glance at my old self brought back the nightmare night I found my coven dead. I could feel the Goddess stirring, roused by memories. Bile rose in the back of my throat. The hand holding my driver's license trembled with rage and grief. A dark curtain began to descend in front of my eyes as I felt Her rising.

It always started with a cramp shuddering across my abdomen. Then came the rush. Heat, like fire, pulsed upward from between my legs. My thighs quivered. With each heartbeat the heat rose, higher, higher, spreading along my stomach, up my rib cage. My body shook with pleasure.

It felt so good, but I had to stop Her. If She brought me to the crescendo, I would no longer be in control. And what I would destroy, because destroy She always did, I wouldn't know until I came to in time to pick up the pieces or bury the bodies.

My fingertips tingled with unreleased power. In the mirror, I saw Her. My eyes had changed once again. My pupils darkened to the blood red of the poisonous fruit of the nightshade.

She was coming.

Pitching myself forward, I slammed down hard on my knees. The pain brought me back into focus.