Charlotte waited in the master's chamber of the old mansion. Alone, as was her custom these days. Watching over the newer witches, training them in the art of chocolate making, to recognize which humans had already paid their twelve years of life and which had not, to cast spells and create potions. With Rebecca gone, none remained among the witches to challenge her.

Of course, there was still the work policing the city. She'd cracked down on the witch who ran "Charms of Blood and Bone" more than once.

She smiled, remembering how the little thing had struggled when her mouth was stitched shut. That had put an end to her speaking illicit spells and devour of blood candy.

Charlotte sighed. The source of mystery and danger in her life had always been Jerrold.

She rose and walked to the picture she kept of him, tucked safely in the gilded frame behind protective glass of pure crystal. She ran her fingers over its smooth surface and remembered licking the blood from his throat. A shiver ran through her as she recalled how he'd tasted--and what had followed.

The nine years of life she'd stolen from him burned slowly inside her. She should have given those years back. A sweet witch wasn't supposed to feel remorse, but she did.

"Jerrold, you wouldn't want to be kept in a glass case, would you?"

She opened the back of the frame and slid the image out. Placing it against her cheek, she remembered what it had been like to have him near. She shivered, imagining the feel of his body next hers. His heart had thrummed so loudly, the blood in his veins raced through him with fever and heat. In life her senses had not been sharp, in death she could even sense why it thrummed. Jerrold's heart had pounded with desire for her.

A knock sounded on her chamber door. She placed the picture down.

"Come," she said.

A lesser witch, Jasmine, walked in, leading Jerrold by the arm. He stared vacantly ahead, held by magic. That it worked meant he still hoped to be reunited with her. How ironic that her final charm had had the lasting power she'd sought for so many years.

"Where was he?" Charlotte asked.

"At the charm shop."

"Determined, aren't you?" It wasn't a question she expected Jerrold to answer. The magic prevented him from doing so.

She stepped closer and slid her finger along his cheek, delighting in the feel of his warmth, the pounding of his heart. He was so near. He was hers for the taking--but no. Not again. Not like that.

"I'm going to undo the charm, Jerrold. I didn't expect it to still bind you." She closed her eyes against the pain welling inside her. "You'll finally be free of me."

She leaned forward to kiss him one last time. As she drew near, she sensed the quickening of his pulse, his eagerness. She drew back. It would be so easy to take more.

"No. I can't lose my resolve."

She held out her hand. "A lock of hair, please."

Jerrold reached up, plucked a strand of his hair, and held it out for her.

"Now give me your wedding ring."

Again, Jerrold did as she asked, removing the wedding ring from his hand. Using his hair and a strand of her own, she tied the rings together.

Summoning the power within herself, she chanted the words of undoing.

With golden bands I did thee wed,

By blood and power I did thee bed,

And though it breaks my undead heart,

By fire I break our bonds apart.

Finished, she tossed the pair of rings into the fire.

She stared into the flames, remembering. How frightened she'd been on that first trip to New Orleans. Such a thing was so daring, so unlike her in so many ways, but Jerrold had been the prize. And what a prize! As long as she existed, she'd relive the memories of her time with him.

The second trip had been different. By then she'd started to learn about magic, she'd almost been eager. That was when she'd met the sweet witches for the first time. It had frightened her enough that she'd decided not to go back.

But when the charm had worn off, she'd had to master her fears anew. She'd done it though, and survived. Their third year together had been the best. That was the year Jerrold had taken her to Paris. It had been the fulfillment of every romantic dream she'd ever had.

As she recalled that crystalline moment, her reverie shattered and the spell completed. She hadn't expected to feel anything when it occurred, but she did. Her heart thumped once in her chest, a heavy dull sensation that caused her to gasp. It was like dying had been, it was as if a piece of her had been cut away. Dizziness swept her, and she steadied herself against the fireplace.

"My queen?" Jasmine asked.

"I'm fine," Charlotte said. She straightened herself and turned back to Jerrold.

"You're free, Jerrold. At long last. I'm sorry, once again, for taking so much away from you. Go, find whatever happiness you can."

Instead of turning and walking out the door, Jerrold struggled. It only made sense that this would happen. His hope of being with her again was fading away, doubtless to be replaced by rage. With it, the power of the spell controlling him was weakening.

Jasmine took hold of his arms, restraining him.

"No," Charlotte commanded her. "Let him be."

With a doubtful look, Jasmine obeyed. She stepped away.

For a moment, Jerrold stood, shaking. Then, with trembling fingers, he reached inside his pocket.

Charlotte and Jasmine took a backward step, ready should he bring out a cup of water to melt their candied flesh. In truth, he'd have little chance in a fight against the two of them, but it paid to be cautious when dealing with humans.

Glancing between Charlotte and Jasmine, Jerrold grinned and his shaking stopped. With a calm deliberate motion he drew forth a chocolate rose, still wrapped in foil. The label on the side read, "Charms of Blood and Bone."

"What is this?" Charlotte asked.

"I remembered your birthday this year."

Charlotte blinked. Was it her birthday? Yes, it was. "I'm sorry, Jerrold, for punishing you when you forgot before. It was wrong of me."

Was an apology what he wanted? Why was he holding out a chocolate rose and who was the target of the spell? Somehow, she felt certain, it was to shame her for her mistreatment of him during the years they'd been together, but she couldn't quite make sense of it. Would he really spend a thousand dollars to make such a point?

Jerrold continued to smile as he withdrew a second rose from his other pocket.

"I don't understand," Charlotte said at last.

"You won your battle with Rebecca," Jerrold said. "But she injured you. You left stains of your blood on my shirt. It was enough to have these love charms made. My blood and yours. This one," he waved the rose in his extended hand, "is spelled to work on you."

She stared at it.

"Go on," he said. "Take it."

She did so. After twirling it in her fingers she said, "I don't understand. My heart has always been yours."

"You left me. I don't want that happening again."

She laughed. "You want to stay with me?"

"This rose," he lifted the other. "Is designed to work on me. You've become everything I wanted in a woman, Charlotte. I want to be under your spell again. This time, however, I want you to be under mine as well."

He started to peel the foil away. Laughing again, half crying, she undid the foil from hers. Together, they each took a bite. She tasted his blood as the chocolate flower broke in her mouth, binding her with its dark magic. None of the confections she'd wrought with the experience and power she'd learned had ever tasted so sweet.