The Zombie Billionaire's Virgin Witch (Zombie Category Romance) (15 page)

“I
doubt she’s lost, Yiorgos.  This is her home state, she was raised here,
and I’m sure a twenty-plus-year-old woman managed to find her way home
perfectly well, thank you very much.  If you truly think Clare Remy is
powerless, then I’m sorry, I refuse to help you.  She’s better off far,
far away from you.”

He
narrowed his eyes at the man in a fierce glare that only made him snicker more.

“No
wonder she snuck away.  You do realize that the high and mighty
Michelopoulos can’t fix everything for everybody, right?”

“Of
course.” 
Since when? 
“I can fix any problem if I throw
enough money at it.  Except
Remy’s
.  But that one doesn’t
count—I was cursed.  Even the Wizard Council couldn’t help me.”

He
paused, his mind leaping ahead.  There was definitely someone he could pin
down for answers on not only Clare’s whereabouts but her magical wellbeing as
well.

“You
can’t buy her entry into the Wizard Council,” Dmitri warned.

Yiorgos
smiled.  “Watch me.”

When
Helga Kettlewich arrived the next day at her office, she found Yiorgos sitting
across from her desk.  “Mr. Michelopoulos, how nice to see you again.” 
She flounced down into her chair amidst a ridiculous tulle skirt that billowed
up around her like a lime green cloud.  “I see that you’re hale and hearty
again.”

“No
thanks to you.”  He kept a civil tone as he pushed a small velvet box
across the desk to her.  “I want this ring restored.”

As
if she didn’t know what it was, the woman flipped the box open.  “Ah, the
Remy signet ring!  Oh dear, what happened to it?”

He
decided to let the woman play her game as long as she wanted.  In the end,
all he cared about was Clare.  “When Clare broke the curse, the ring
exploded.”

“Not
the only thing, I dare say.”  The woman cackled and gave him a knowing
wink that dumped scalding hot blood across his face.  “What makes you
think I can restore it?”

Now
came the hardest part:  the bluff.  He was good at hiding secrets,
but he had to hand it to Kettlewich.  If he was right, she’d been hiding a
whopper for a long time.  “You cast the original curse.”

She
arched a brow at him.  “Why on earth would you accuse me of something like
that, Mr. Michelopoulos?  A curse?  I’d never do something so vile to
another human being, let alone my own apprentice!”

“Clare
never believed her father would cast such a spell.”  He ticked his fingers
off one by one as he followed the thin trail of bread crumbs to the
truth.  “She mentioned he’d been seeing you for his illness.  You
held the deed to our restaurants and the ring as the overseer of our bet. 
In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you architected the whole damned
thing.  Emile Remy didn’t seem like the sort of man who’d risk his life’s
work and his only daughter’s prized inheritance on such a risky wager. 
Not unless there were higher stakes involved that I wouldn’t have been privy
to.”

Helga
chuckled, idly moving the bits of broken glass about with her index
finger.  “Very good, Mr. Michelopoulos.  That’s a mighty fine yarn
you’ve woven.”

He
played his final card, barely daring to breathe.  “Do you remember what
you said to me that day you gave me the ring, Ms. Kettlewich?”

“I
believe I said something like, ‘Congratulations, Mr. Michelopoulos, on stealing
the Remy fortune.’”

“No.” 
He leaned forward, levering himself on the edge of her desk so he could loom
with all his formidable height and strength.  “You said, ‘If life was a fairytale,
this ring would make all your dreams come true.’”

“And
did they, Mr. Michelopolos?”

“Not
until Clare came into my life.”

“Then
I guess you got what you wanted.”

He
slammed his fist down on the desk.  “But I didn’t want it this way! 
Not at such a cost to her.  How can you treat her so callously after all
the years she’s worked to follow in her father’s footsteps?  If I’d known
what this would do to her, I never would have coerced her into coming to
Remy’s
. 
I would have let the damned spell turn me into a walking corpse before I hurt
her!”

“Sit
down, Mr. Michelopoulos.”

She
didn’t raise her voice, but there was a thin thread of power in her voice that
warned him to do as she said.  Much as it pained him to follow the woman’s
orders, he sat.

“If
you’re smart enough to figure out my hand in this spell, then you’re surely
smart enough to understand why her father and I might have gone to such drastic
steps.”

“Actually,
no.  I can’t possibly understand it.  Not when it hurts her so
badly.”

“It’s
a test, Mr. Michelopoulos.  One Clare has so far sailed through with
flying colors.”

Gritting
his teeth, Yiorgos fought to keep a civil tone of voice.  “Do you mean to
tell me that you turned me into a zombie and stripped Clare of her power all
for a stupid
test
?”

“Only
the best make it onto the Council, and I don’t necessarily mean magical
ability.  Clare certainly possesses a fine display of kitchen talent, but
we’re more interested in her character strengths and the latent powers not yet
revealed in her gift.  You must admit that those very strengths attracted
you, too.  She’d give anyone the shirt off her back if they needed it, and
yet wade into a battle wielding nothing but a wooden spoon if need be to
protect or help another.  Exactly the kind of witch we want to encourage
and grow.”

“And
her power?”  He said flatly, suddenly sure he knew the ugly truth.

“Naturally
this test will increase her power a hundredfold or more by pushing her to
explore the depths of her gift that would never be tapped otherwise.  It’s
a common belief in the wizard community that we don’t receive more than one
talent.  Sadly, that’s all too often true, but only because they don’t
push and strive for more.  Combined with the Remy ring and her latent
gifts she wasn’t yet aware of, Clare will be invincible.”

“Exactly
who you want to replace you on the Council.”

“Not
replace me, Mr. Michelopoulos.  I have no intention of leaving any time
soon.”  Helga laughed softly.  “She’s
joining
us.  We’ve
simply not found a worthy candidate in more than thirty years who deserves a
chair of her own as much as Clare.”

“And
what role do I play in all this mess?  Was I merely the tool to bring
Clare to the brink of her greatness?”

“This
test will increase Clare’s ability significantly—as she demonstrated in healing
you.  Losing her virginity temporarily closed the wellspring of her power,
but when she wears the Remy signet…” 

Ms.
Kettlewich held the ring up, fully restored. 

Yiorgos
could only stare at it and hope his mouth wasn’t hanging open.  How’d she
done it so easily and quickly without him even noticing? 

“That
power will be magnified by her love for you.  Her love was so great that
she was willing to sacrifice everything for you.  That sacrifice widened
the channel to her power, giving her even more access to those talents. 
Then, of course, there are the children such a match promises.  The Remy
line will continue with fine Greek blood mixed in, a volatile combination.”

“So
I’m to be the Council’s breeding stud, too?  I don’t think so, Ms.
Kettlewich.  When she finds out what you’ve done…”

“She
knows.  Or rather, she suspects many things, though she might not have
ferreted out all the details yet.  I certainly gave her enough hints along
the way.  She’ll be angry, yes, but this was her father’s wish, too. 
In the end, only she can decide whether to go through with her trials or not.”

He
held on to his temper by the skin of his teeth.  “Where is she?”

“Safe
and sound, I assure you.”

“I
must see her.  I refuse to allow you to whisk her away without giving her
a chance to choose me!”

The
woman tsked and patted him on the shoulder.  “No one’s whisking her away,
Mr. Michelopoulos.”  

He
recoiled, because he hadn’t even seen her rise from her chair, let alone come
around her desk toward him.

“I’ll
even tell you where she is, but only after you promise not to interfere in her
trials.”

He
opened his mouth to tell the old bag what she wanted to hear just to get the
information he needed, but something wrapped around his throat like a snake.

“Let
me warn you that I have the ability of spelling your oaths into your flesh, Mr.
Michelopoulos.  You will speak only truth, for any lie will tighten the
noose about your neck.”

He
swallowed hard, his skin crawling at the touch of the woman’s magic.  He
could all too easily remember the horrible feeling of being trapped and forced
to do as she said at
Remy’s
.

“I
love Clare like a daughter,” Helga said more kindly.  “Haven’t you figured
out why she left you yet?  The last thing I want to do is see her crying
over you.  She wants to be with you, and if you listen to a few words of
advice, you’ll have her safe and sound with you once more.”

He
managed to nod, but he didn’t try to speak, not with the spell wrapped around
his throat.

“Clare
needs her own identity.  Her own space.  Her own goals and
dreams.  When you took her magic, you destroyed her identity.  All
you offered her, then, was the identity as your wife.  Did you tell her
you loved her?  That’d you do anything for her?  Or did you simply
start making decisions about what she should wear and where she’d go?”

He
couldn’t help but wince.  “I even decided we’d be married in Greece.”

“Did
you even
ask
her if she wanted to marry you?”

He
closed his eyes with shame.

Helga
didn’t wait for his admission of guilt.  “She went from a talented witch
on the verge of joining the Academy with a shining future on the Wizard Council
to simply a woman entirely dependent on you.  Yes, you’re a wealthy and
influential man, but a woman like Clare needs more.  She needs to exist
without you to be complete.  Only then can she be happy as your wife,
because she has a solid core of confidence that can weather even your
bossiness.”

He
wanted to take offense, but she was right.  It’d been that strength and courage
that had first drawn him to Clare.  That knowledge that she’d take him at
his worst and smack him—or kiss him—depending on what she wanted.

“She
wants you, Yiorgos Michelopoulos, but she doesn’t need you.”  Helga leaned
down to whisper in his ear, making him shudder with fear at what she would
do.  “But I do.  I need you to bring her power back greater than
ever.  So I’m going to help you win her back.  Are you willing to do
what I say?”

The
thing on his neck tightened so he could barely get the words out.  “It
depends on what you want.  I won’t hurt or betray her in any way.”

“Of
course not.”  Helga purred, trailing her nails along his neck just above
his collar.  “All I need you to do is love her.  Do you love her,
Yiorgos?”

“Yes.” 
The word burned on his tongue, catching flame through his body.  In a
sudden flash, his brains turned to ash.

“Ah,
you felt that.  Very good.  Imagine what a lie will feel like. 
How far are you willing to go for her?  What will you endure for her?”

His
heart thundered frantically but he forced the words out again.  “For
Clare, anything.”

Flames
licked his heart and he couldn’t suppress the gasp.  It wasn’t exactly
pain, but the sensation of magic moving and slithering inside him was
uncomfortable to say the least.

“Truth. 
Very good.  Come back here tomorrow for her trials and bring the Remy
signet.  However, you mustn’t let her know you’re here until the Council
judges her performance.  Do you understand?  You may watch, but we
both must allow her to fail or pass on her own merits.  You won’t
interfere in any way.”

Braced
for the flood of truth-searing heat, he said, “I understand.”  Molten rock
roared in his veins and he gritted his teeth, determined not to cry out
again. 

“Afterward,
you may give her the Remy ring.  You may even ask for her hand in
marriage.  But this time, Yiorgos, I recommend that you actually
ask
her, as humbly as an arrogant man like you manage.  Do you understand and
agree to abide by these conditions?”

“Yes!”

His
ears popped and he swayed a moment, disoriented.  He’d expected the spell
to wring him dry and punish him for his failures, so the mild pulse in his
blood was anticlimactic.

Helga
patted him on the shoulder again and shuffled back to her chair.  She sank
down behind her desk like she’d just run a marathon and her face was sweaty and
gray.

Reluctantly,
he asked, “Are you all right, Ms. Kettlewich?”

“Yes,
yes, I’ll be fine in a moment.  You’re so very strong.  I’m even more
impressed with what Clare managed to do now.  No doubt she’ll surpass me
in strength once she wears the Remy ring.  If Emile hadn’t helped me with
the initial casting, we never could have lassoed you for our spell.”