Acting like naughty children who were up past their bedtime, Remi and Gideon left the library. Since they were only partially dressed, they avoided the halls that were well-used by other residents of the fortress. When they rounded a corner in time to see the back of Laris, they ducked back to hide.

A muffled giggle escaped Remi. She was giddy, drunk on love. The offness between her and Gideon had been banished with the mating. Never had she experienced this intensity of closeness with another.

Gideon silenced Remi with a kiss. Miraculously, her outburst wasn't overheard by the Viking. Discovery was far from her mind as her tongue slipped past Gideon's lips. A low growl was her reward as he took possession of her own.

"Bed," Gideon nearly gasped the word when he broke the kiss several minutes later.

After a couple of close calls – it was dinner time in Vârcolac Turn – they made it as far as the inside of the door to Gideon's bedroom. Having second thoughts, he decided the bed was too far. They made love against the portal's hard, wooden surface. Quick and passionate, the memory of it would be favored by Remi for many years to come.

After showering, Gideon called down to the kitchens for dinner. Twenty minutes later, Jayna herself appeared with a tray laden with food. After the woman left, the witcher chuckled when he caught sight of Remi's face. It felt heated, a sure sign it was stained with a blush. "Do you think she knows?" she wondered aloud. Jayna had been downright jovial.

"Yes, as I'm sure everyone will come morning." Gideon beamed down at Remi. Her cheeks were becoming achy from all the smiling she'd been doing, yet she couldn't help but return his. The forgotten food grew cold as they made love yet again.

Hours later, Remi lay awake, too excited for slumber. Gideon was asleep next to her, and she rested in his arms. Knowing her touch would wake him, she traced his features with her eyes. The fire in his – no, their – room was burning low, but there was enough light that she could see. What was hidden by deep shadow, she rebuilt from memory.

Trystan and his men were far from Remi's thoughts. The wards protecting the fortress would hold, meaning they were safe within the walls of Vârcolac Turn. Damballah lay contentedly on the top of Remi's pillow. He hadn't yet warmed to Gideon as a man; the cat hadn't forgiven the wolf for not being a beast like him.

Thoughts of Remi and Gideon's future further kept sleep at bay. She couldn't wait to introduce her witcher to Memaw. The old Voodoo priestess would likely give him a hard time to feel him out at first. But Remi was confident her grandmother would approve of him in the end.

Would they have children?

Remi bit her lower lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. Little girls with their father's eyes popped into her head. She closed her own, imagining their brothers. They'd be as handsome and protective as their papa.

Before she knew it, Remi was asleep. A frown replaced the smile on her face as her dream changed. She and Gideon had been on a family picnic by Lake Bolboci. The sun was shining and delicate, mountain flowers were in bloom, growing out from between rocks. Their children laughed and played on the stony shore as their parents sat on a blanket in a patch of green grass. Pine trees towered protectively overhead.

Then suddenly, Remi was alone. All was quiet, no more deep chuckles from Gideon or the higher-pitched laughter of children filled the air. Not even the gentle waves coming ashore made a sound.

"How utterly charming," Trystan's voice came from directly behind Remi.

Whipping her head around, Remi spotted her misguided ex not far from where she sat. His tall frame loomed over her, and a cruel smile marred his dark, handsome face. He wore a suit of endless black. The only spark of color was his blood-red tie.

"It'll never happen." After issuing his dire promise, Trystan's tone turned conversational. "I'll never allow it to happen," he vowed.

Although Remi knew she was in a dream, she couldn't wake. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed herself to end the nightmare. The ploy didn't work. It seemed as if the harder she tried to escape, the more stuck she became.

Eyes popping open, Remi started as Trystan came to a stop next to her. Then, he sat in the very spot on the blanket Gideon had been but moments before. A glass of rum magically appeared in his hands.

Not wanting to be anywhere near her ex, Remi scrambled to her feet. The liquor-filled glass tried to pry a memory free within her, but Trystan's next words silenced the echo of remembrance. "He can't protect you, your pet. Not from me," he gloated and turned his deep, black eyes onto her dream form.

Taking out a casing from his breast pocket, Trystan dumped what Remi now knew was gunpowder into the rum. It was then the niggling memory broke free. Sucking in a breath, Memaw's stories of a loa whose name meant "crossroads" flooded her. This Voodoo spirit was said to control the off-center points of them. He could take on the appearance of a young man or a demon. Some even drew parallels between him and Satan. Were it not for this evil spirit, it was said, the world would be a better place.

This loa's element was fire. He favored the colors red and black. The most damning clue to his identity was his favorite drink – rum laced with gunpowder.

Those endlessly black eyes narrowed. "You are mine, Remington Dixon."

So, saying, the dream blessedly began to fade. Remi woke with a start. Sitting up, she dislodged Gideon's hold. Damballah hissed as his sleep was disturbed. The werewolf next to her came instantly awake. Before he could ask what was wrong, she blurted, "Trystan is Kalfu!"

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the cell phone on Remi's nightstand lit up as it buzzed. "It's Memaw," she said, knowing who was calling without even looking at the screen.

"What?" Gideon's eyes were wide. It was clear his sleep-fogged mind couldn't quite grasp Remi's quick, disjointed statements.

Grabbing the phone off the nightstand, Remi swiped her thumb across the screen.

"Cher, is that you?" Memaw's craggy voice demanded.

"Yes," Remi answered. "It's me." She knew not to be "fresh" and point out that Memaw had called her. It would be equally disrespectful were she to remark on the lateness of the call.

On the other end of the phone, Memaw groaned as she sat in her rocking chair. "Maîtresse Ayizan came to me," Remi's great-grandmother began without preamble. "She brought distressing news."

Remi had some "distressing news" of her own but knew better than to interrupt. Beside her, Gideon sat up then gathered her to his side. All her icky emotions must've crossed over through their bond. His offer of comfort was much appreciated. He was an island of calm in the middle of a rough sea.

"That cayoodle," Gideon smiled in the dim light of their bedroom at Memaw's nickname for Remi's ex, "Trystan has been playing us all for fools."

Damballah jumped off the bed in a huff. The cat wasn't the least bit happy to have his slumber disturbed. Sauntering across the room, he gracefully placed his rump on the floor then began meowing at the door. Gideon rose from the bed and walked over to let the cat out into the hall.

Memaw, unaware of the feline's theatrics, continued. "He is not who he said. Maîtresse Ayizan didn't say who he is, only that he is a danger to you, cher. He isn't botherin' ya anymore, is he?"

Uncertain how to respond, Remi bit her lip. Her eyes found Gideon's as he climbed back onto their bed. How best to tell Memaw all she'd learned without causing her grandmother to have a heart attack? Should she even tell her?

Sucking in a deep breath as Gideon wrapped his arms about her and pulled her close to his chest once more, Remi decided she had to let Memaw know what was happening. Beginning with her visit from Ayida-Weddo, she told her grandmother what had been revealed. Before she came to the heart of the matter – Kalfu – Memaw interjected with an observation.

"That's probably when ya came into your sight," Remi's great-grandmother said when told about being claimed as the loa's earthly daughter.

"As far as I can tell, I came into my sight as soon as I turned thirty-one. Kalfu," Remi recalled having learned Trystan had set up her gig at La Vie d'Paris, "was after me before that."

"Maître Kalfu, did you say? What do you mean, cher?" Memaw demanded to know.

"According to Ayida-Weddo, Kalfu set his sights on me as soon as he learned I was her earthly daughter. He got me the gig on New Year's Eve, wanting to watch me for whatever reason."

"Oh, this is bad," Memaw moaned. "Who's his cheval?" she asked, suspicion deep in her craggy voice.

"He's riding Trystan," Remi answered, then bit her lip. Saying the words made the reality of her situation come crashing down.

Suddenly, another thought occurred to Remi. She told her grandmother about the trip on the train. "When I hit Trystan with your gris-gris," she ended, "he dropped like he was dead."

"Hmmm," Memaw mused. "If one as powerful as Maître Kalfu took over a human for so long, it's unlikely they exist within their own skin. I'm sorry, cher, but Trystan's soul was likely snuffed out within days."

"So," Gideon interjected, "you're saying he's a living corpse?" The witcher sounded stupefied as if zombies were some unreal, mythical creature he couldn't wrap his head around.

"And who is that, cher?" Memaw asked, suspicion clouding her tone.

"I'm Gideon Michaels, ma'am," the man-witch-wolf answered. "Remi's husband," he brazenly claimed.

"Oh, Lawd!" Memaw exclaimed.

"We aren't married," Remi interjected before her great-grandmother could have a heart attack. Glancing over her shoulder, she shot Gideon a look.

"How else would you explain mating to a human?" Gideon huffed defensively.

"A human?" Memaw picked up on the word. "And a 'mating'? Remington Anne Dixon, what kinda mess have ya gone and got yourself into now, girl?"

She couldn't help it, at Memaw's tone, coupled with the use of her full name, Remi cringed. It was as if she were seventeen, caught necking with a boy. Her great-grandmother could erase fourteen years off Remi's age with but a hint of disapproval in her voice.

"I told you about Gideon, remember?" Remi began defensively. "He's the one who saved me in Paris."

Memaw's grunt sounded loud in Remi's ear. "You didn't tell me he was a shifter."

Blinking dumbly at her great-grandmother's use of the word, Remi looked up at Gideon. His muscular shoulders lifted beneath her head, then dropped. "He's the black-faced wolf, Memaw," she eventually explained.

"I'm also half-witch," Gideon added. "I won't let harm come to your granddaughter."

"Fine words, young man." Remi bit back a laugh. Gideon was easily three times as old as Memaw. Her great-grandmother's next words erased all mirth. "But it would take a mystère as strong as Maître Damballah-Weddo to send Maître Kalfu home."

A frown pinched Remi's brow. "So, not even a witch can keep him from me?"

Memaw remained silent for a time. Remi checked her phone to make sure the call hadn't been dropped. She nearly missed her grandmother's next words. "It is possible, maybe. I'll have to talk with others to find our path through this."

"Ok, Memaw. We'll try to work it out on our end as well," Remi said, thinking of the ever-inquisitive Keilynn.

"Good, good." Memaw's voice was distant. It sharpened when she said, "Oh, and Gideon? I expect ya to keep your promise to see no harm comes to my grandbaby."

With that, Memaw ended the call. Remi and Gideon looked at one another. Those light blue eyes didn't show what he was thinking. "Memaw knows about the races?" she finally uttered wonderingly.

Those broad shoulders lifted and dropped once more. "Some humans do, despite ones like Henri's best efforts."

The sun wouldn't be up for hours yet. Nor would the fortress' inhabitants. Gideon shifted to lay back down, then patted the mattress next to him. "It's too early to wake the others. Do you think you can sleep?"

Shaking her head in the negative, Remi snuggled into Gideon's arms. She didn't think she'd ever sleep again. Not until Kalfu was dealt with anyway. That he could invade her dreams was more than a little disconcerting.

The soft pads of Gideon's fingertips made small, soothing strokes on Remi's lower back. "Why don't you tell me more about Kalfu?" he softly ventured.

Instead of returning to sleep, they talked until the sun peeked over the eastern wall of the fortress. Their discussion was about more than just the loa and Voodoo. The topic turned to Memaw and Remi's family, then her mother. Although she'd long ago forgiven Harper Collins for abandoning her, the act still opened an emotional wound whenever she thought about the desertion.

"Memaw welcomed me, never made me feel a burden as my mother had. It wasn't Harper's fault," Remi explained in a low tone. "Even though she had seven children of her own and three-stepchildren, she wasn't equipped to be a mother. My sisters' father raised them after the divorce." Their father was white and lived in a town a hundred miles away.

"With the death of my father," Remi continued, "she just didn't have it in her to pretend anymore. I was the youngest; there's a twelve-year gap between me and my sister Jo Lynne, eight between me and my brother Zac. Harper gave my brothers from my dad's previous marriage and me away to various family members."

The small strokes on Remi's back stilled. Gideon's hand spread across it, and he pulled her close, merely holding her for a moment. "Thank God for Memaw," he murmured.

"Yeah," Remi agreed. "It was from her that I learned unconditional love. Memaw is my mother as far as I'm concerned."

"You'll make a wonderful one yourself," Gideon said low, then kissed the top of Remi's head.

"And you, a wonderful father," Remi whispered. Looking up at Gideon, she cupped his cheek. He'd shared with her how his mother's pack had left him for dead shortly after he was born. Luckily, his father found him and saved him from exposure to the cold elements. Even though it wasn't a standard duty for male witches, his father raised him. Alwyn Michaels had done an excellent job bringing his son up to be a loving, caring, and thoughtful man.

Before their shared, long kiss could turn heated, Gideon leaned back and looked down at Remi. "The sun's up. We should gather the others and plan how best to rid ourselves of Kalfu."

Frowning as their sweet moment turned sour, Remi disentangled herself from Gideon's warm embrace. Reality would no longer be held at bay.