The Problem With Hexes

by Lexi Ostrow

  “Pity, I would have liked to know how you got my grandmother’s pendant.” Shoving the man’s shoulder, the demon dropped the clerk to the ground and pulled a blade from his pants’ pocket. Setting the vase down, the demon drew two gashes in the man’s neck, letting the blood spill into the bowl.

  The memory vanished as quickly as it started.

  “I know that demon.” A familiar voice spoke as the woman turned away from her memory spell. “Ezekiel Carnod. He lives in the Marigny.” Deidre smirked. “Ivy dated him once, that’s how I know who it is.”

  “Fall out!” Sam growled.

  Jonathon’s hand snaked out and stopped Sam from walking away by grabbing his shoulder. Blue eyes narrowed with annoyance.

  “What do you need?”

  “I was called here.”

  “Yes, and Dee beat you. She was at the station and overhead the dispatch. She got here faster and you know those spells can’t be done if too much time has passed since death. She was here. I asked her to step in.”

  Jonathon glanced back at the dark-haired witch. “Why was she at the station?”

  “Not that it matters, but Lita asked me to help Dee out. She spiraled pretty bad after Vexx murdered her husband. She wanted work with a purpose. I love my wife, but brewing potions isn’t what Deidre meant when she came to us for help.”

  “So, someone let her just join the force?” Jonathon’s annoyance brewed. He liked Deidre. They’d gone out with Lita and group several times since they’d met. Deidre was fragile. Too fragile to see the things she’d see as a cop.

  “No, she’s a consultant. Hence why you were called first. Warlocks and necromancy are preferred, but I seriously thought you’d tell them to fuck off after the hours you’ve been working.”

  Jonathon’s hand through his hair and he snarled. “She shouldn’t be doing this. It’s too much for her to handle.”

  “She, knows exactly how much she can handle.” Deidre placed extra emphasis on the word she as she stepped up. “She needs to help and not be stuck in a house with a ghost.”

  Jonathon swallowed, he’d never meant for her to overhear. “I didn’t mean—”

  “No, you did. Which is fine. I’ve been a delicate flower since Gerard was murdered. Sure. I’ll buy that description. Lita and Ivy are my best friends, for nearly five hundred years. Do you really think I can’t handle a bit of chaos?”

  He looked at the floor, anything to get away from the glowing green of her jade eyes. Fury didn’t cover it, yet she held her tone steady and her voice low. “Apologies. Lack of sleep makes me a douche.”

  Some anger faded from her eyes. “I know that, which is why I didn’t blast your ass when I heard what you were saying.” Her lips shifted into a grin. “Besides, after two weeks helping Sam, this is the first time I’ve actually done something useful.”

  “You’ve done a lot.” Sam countered.

  “I’ve never handed you the bad guy on a silver platter.”

  “Bad guy,” Jonathon snorted. “Come on expert cop, let me grab you a coffee and then you can get me a transport potion home. I used my last coming here and I’m ready to pass out.”

  Deidre blinked, as if she were shocked he wanted to go with her anywhere. “With me?”

  “Well, Sam’s got a full day ahead of him and I clearly need to catch up with you. Last time I saw you was just a few months after the wedding.” He tried to sprinkle a little charm into the words, anything to make up for her hearing him a moment ago. “Come on, I’ll buy. I don’t bite.”

  “No, I suppose you don’t.”

  She pushed by him and Jonathon didn’t notice the lack of a panty line under her cotton dress. Whatever was going on, it would seem the woman he met during the worst investigation of his life was indeed not as frail as he thought she was over the last eight months.

  Two

  “I don’t believe this is entirely necessary, Remy.” Elijah sighed and dropped onto the rickety weathered bench. He yawned as he spoke, reminding Remy the man had twin toddlers at home, a pack, and a country of shifters to run.

  “It is.” Remy restrained from snarling at the werewolf alpha and leader of the US wereanimals. The man was terrifying in human form, but as a gator, Remy held no doubt he’d best Elijah in a fight. You’re here to stop the fighting, not add to it. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Hunters poach my congregation. They over-poach the actual alligator population. Numbers dwindle as greed and fear take hold in every species. I’ve watched as casters freeze a gator they see napping nearby simply because the creature is there. It’s insulting the way people treat us. We are not killers – especially not the shifters. If we kill, we eat what we kill and donate what we cannot to food banks. We do not feed the natural gators or give them reason to come near humans. They sense our creature and live side-by-side with us for no other reason than that. Their deaths, the death of my people, is unforgivable when it’s done out of fear. Developers take our land little by little. We’re not going to have anywhere to go. And don’t say we can go underwater to protect ourselves, you must know what it’s like outrunning guns when you can understand the danger of a bullet. We think with our human heads, we pause. We die.”

  “You’re being worse than my twins with the dramatics.” Elijah’s eyes flashed as his wolf danced along the surface with a threat. “New Orleans – or any part of Louisiana – is never going to decimate the swamps. The swamps are our heritage. The bayous are where the best food comes from. Trust me, the worst thing you’re looking at is more tours.”

  “Which is half the problem, Elijah,” Swamp boat tours equaled bad news for gators and weregators. The tourists came through in big, loud boats and disrupted the natural habitat.

  People expected gators to be vicious enough to impress, but not to put anyone in danger. Idiot tour guides even dangled giant marshmallows over the sides of their boats and called it swamp crack. The tours scared off prey, which sent the animals into hunter mode. The tourists thought the gators they came across were real, but they were often Supernaturals. Period. Remy made sure of it for years to keep the animals from getting violent and leading to hunters destroying them near extinction – like with sharks.

  “There’s only going to be so much longer my guys can intervene and keep the actual gators at bay. Sure, they love entertaining, but it’s getting dangerous. The boats are chasing away prey. There’s no telling how long before the gators get hungry and start to leave the swamps.”

  “Which happens all the damn time. You know that as well as I do. Look at Algiers’s Point. It’s riddled with gators along the levee. People aren’t stupid. They don’t touch them.” Elijah countered, obvious annoyance radiating through his words.

  “No, they just call animal control, and they get shot.” Remy’s blood boiled as his eyes slanted together. Elijah was a fair leader, but Elijah wasn’t listening to him.

  Elijah took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “That’s on base. We can’t intervene with the military, and you know it. You keep your people from shifting in plain sight and wandering into people’s yards, and you won’t have an issue.”

  “What about the hunters who come here looking for gator hide or meat?” Remy began to lose control over his beast. Elder shifters didn’t require the moon to change, and many were suspect to intense emotions causing the shift. He heard the door squeak open. Remy didn’t need to look to know his wife, Heather, stepped onto the deck. She didn’t approve of the hunting anymore than he did, but she also warned him not to go against Elijah.

  “Your men and women wouldn’t be in danger if you’d stick to the areas laid out for you.”

  “Like your wolves?” Remy challenged. Heather’s hand landed on his shoulder, attempting to pull him back.

  Elijah’s snarl was enough to set Remy’s shift in motion. The slow pop as his hips started to dislocate was the only warning he had to get himself in line. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Remy focused on his little Maria and his wife, Heather. As quickly as th
e shift started, it halted. Family always helped him reign in a wayward shift.

  “That would have been a bad move, my friend.” Elijah’s teeth showed fierce points, indicating he’d begun to shift to protect himself.

  “I mean, you no harm. I simply wish you to take this seriously. My congregation does our best to watch where we swim when we’re stretching our legs. Last month alone I lost two good men – to hunter’s rifles that couldn’t see the human in their eyes when they climbed out of the water.”

  “There’s not a lot I can do. If you’re operating within your boundaries, we can make a case.” The alpha lifted a brow. “Something tells me you aren’t, though.”

  “That shouldn’t matter. Humans shouldn’t kill a creature on sight.” Remy’s vision began to cloud as the anger rolled back through. “If you won’t help, I’ll take this to the Council.”

  Remy could barely make out more than Elijah’s outline as the wolf stood the anger clouded his vision so thoroughly.

  “That’s the best idea you’ve had since calling me down here before I had my morning coffee.” Standing, Elijah put out his hand. “I hope you understand how delicate the balance I maintain here in New Orleans is. I feel for your congregation, but I can’t and won’t give special considerations to anyone. I don’t care if your family has run this land for as long as mine. The law is law.”

  “I heard you were a real hard ass for the rules.” Remy hissed but shook the alpha’s hand. “Expect to see me representing my kind at the next meeting. We will get justice for those we’ve lost.”

  Elijah sighed. “Same argument, different Supernatural.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Sooner or later, everyone will realize we’re on the same damn Earth. Until then, all we can do is fight for our kind.”

  Remy kept his eyes glued to the alpha male as Elijah walked down the old dock toward his car. He’s forgetting he’s a shifter. Too many years married with kids and living away from his pack is clouding his mind.

  “Was that how you wanted it to go?” Heather chided.

  Remy ignored his wife’s taunt and the familiar tingle of the shift. He could use a dip in the swamp, and if anyone came after him, well, he had a mouth full of teeth just waiting for some idiot to get too close.

  Three

  “One drink. One drink and then sleep.” Jonathon chanted as he stepped into the blast of air conditioning powering The Witch’s Tavern – the last Supernatural owned bar in the Quarter.

  Day three of being awake for twenty hours in a shot left him more than a little drained. Jonathan was feisty, pissed, and more than a bit aware that he needed unwind before he took it out on someone who didn’t deserve it.

  Eight in the morning on Bourbon Street left the bar less than crowded. They’d close in about thirty minutes, but he didn’t need that long. Every stool at the bar right off the open doors was filled, but as Jonathon cast his gaze back, the small square dance floor was empty, and the secondary bar didn’t even have a bartender standing behind it.

  Fantastic, you might as well have drunk at home by yourself. Being an alcoholic wasn’t high on his list, but the occasional drink helped him to decompress. Aside from keeping his condo clean, there wasn’t much he did once he went home after work. One of the reasons he threw himself into his work – aside from not being a fan of dangerous people being loose on the streets – was his lack of desire to fit into the craziness that made up this city.

  Moving past the front bar toward the back, Jonathon wondered if just standing at the front wasn’t smarter. Seems typical. Go to a busy place and move off to the side. For as long as he could remember, Jonathon had two functions – work and sleep. Growing up in one of the biggest cities in the world taught him some pretty rough lessons early on, but it also instilled in him the drive to do better.

  Being a cop was in his blood, not because his parents or grandparents did it, but because he knew it was the only calling for him. Keeping scum off the street and making certain justice came with swift wings for those victimized mattered. Parking tickets, bar brawls, and shoplifting weren’t on his list. So, Jonathon busted his ass in New York City. Despite most people assuming Jonathon lived through some vicious crime, he hadn’t. Well, not until last year, at least.

  His life before joining the NYPD had been anything but violent.

  His parents met and fell head over heels in love almost five hundred and eighty years ago. Shit, he’d never heard them fight in his life. His older brother was an accomplished electrician working with house flippers around the city, and his younger brother graduated college last year. His grandparents – on both sides – lived in upstate New York and came down frequently for family visits. Everyone supported everyone else, and no one batted an eyelash when at eighteen, Jonathon announced he wasn’t going to attend NYU after all.

  His need to help people came from watching the horrors on every single street. Homeless people attacked others for money. Drug lords let the bodies pile up. Fights between Supernaturals left dead bodies like dead flies in all the roughest corners.

  Then, the world woke up. A dumb video leaked magic, and for the first time, no one attempted to cover it up. For over a year, Jonathon kept quiet about his warlock nature. His partner caught him healing a woman who took a bullet to her stomach, and that had been the end of that.

  Only, instead of kicking him off the force, his brethren embraced him. Being one of the first warlocks on any police department could have led to a swelled ego. Instead, it merely pushed Jonathon to work harder. To prove he was more than his magic, even if his magic made cases much easier.

  And here you are, half-past eight in the morning damn near drained because you don’t know how to say no when there’s danger.

  With or without his warlock powers, Jonathon quickly become the best on the force. Unlike most, he was literally a twenty-nine-year-old warlock. Many spent their first hundred or so years enjoying life, but his calling came first. For Jonathon, going off and sightseeing meant nothing if he couldn’t ensure the place he lived was safe.

  Which is why you’ve literally never gone anywhere. You don’t pick safe cities.

  Sighing, he considered leaving and not dropping down onto the open bar stool. He had no business being at a bar in the early morning. His body needed sleep, not alcohol.

  Too bad your mind needs a little numbing.

  “Well, well, who darkens our door at such an early hour?” A friendly voice called out from nowhere near the bar – where Jay should be.

  “Who told you to come out from behind the bar?” Jonathon joked as he turned as Jay and another man walked a few steps closer.

  As always, Jay was dressed fabulously right down to his cheetah-print sneakers and gold eyeshadow. While the man didn’t do drag, he loved playing with eye shadow, because, according to him, “it makes the men wild for my baby blues.”

  “A man has to date sometimes.” Jay jerked a finger toward a handsome man in a well-tailored gray suit. “Jacob, meet Jonathon Trevors.” A smirk lifted his lips. “Well, look at that, we could be the J Club. No, no, The Three J’s!”

  Jacob clasped Jonathon’s outstretched hand. No sign of a magical aura around the man.

  “I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, this is date one.” Jacob didn’t seem uncomfortable, but rather, playful.

  Jay swatted the man’s ass. “There is no such thing as just a date one with me.” His animal flashed beneath his eyes. “We just haven’t gotten to the good stuff.”

  You’re missing that. Jonathon flinched at the thought. Where did that come from?

  “Hey, Jay?”

  “Pour you a drink, anyway?”

  Jonathon snorted and shook his head. “Not while you’re on a date. Can’t tire you out.” He winked. “You think not dating is what turned Sam into such a prick?”

  Jay spit bourbon and nearly dropped the glass he held as laughter erupted. Since Jonathon knew Jay and Sam were close, he hadn’t expected the shifter to be super amused.
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  “That’s a fairly good assessment. Getting laid does a man good.” He slid his hand up Jacob’s leg before looking back at Jonathon. “You worrying you’re getting a bit lonely?”

  “I’m worried I’m all work and no play.”

  The panther nodded, sending his shaggy black hair falling into his eyes. “I think, and don’t shoot me, I think you are in need of something. Far be it from me to tell you what, but I haven’t seen you do anything recently. Shit,” Jay set his drink down on the bar. “When’s the last time you stopped by?”

  Jonathon didn’t respond right away as he ran through the date and the last few weeks … more like months … in his mind. “Saint Patrick’s Day. Wait, Easter Sunday.”

  “Right.” The werepanther nodded. “And when’s the last time you did something not work related in general?”

  “Two days ago. Went for a coffee with Deidre.”

  Jay snorted. “Okay, smart ass, how about before then?”

  You went out to the Fried Chicken Festival two months ago. Jonathon shook his head. No, that was three months ago, or you’d already have known Dee was working with the station. “Gods be damned, like right after Easter when I was here.”

  “I think you answered your own question.” Jay’s gaze shifted toward Jacob. “Tell you what, you want Jay to hook you up? I know all the best single ladies that filter in looking for a little action.”

  “God no,” Jonathon retorted too quickly and tried to recover. “Not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t think I’m looking for a relationship.”

  “Oh, Sweetie, what makes you think the women that come through here are looking for more than a little fun just because Lita used us as her personal husband-finder?”

  Jonathon chuckled. He’d not remembered Lita doing that until Jay suggested it. Still, he thought letting Jay run loose would throw him to the proverbial wolves. Jonathon could hear the pitch now. Ladies, looking for a pensive man who has time to screw and run? Detective Trevors is your man. He snorted. “I’m good. I think I do need a drink … and then a nap.”