The Problem With Hexes

by Lexi Ostrow

  A sparkle of blue caught her eye, and she ducked behind the headstone before the assaulter could spot her. Whoever was there threw a potion – that was the only way sparks lined the air when no electricity could be found. Wrapping her fingers around the grave, Deidre peeked around it, keeping her head as low as possible.

  Two men with zero magical auras stopped six rows away.

  “I told you, stop right there.” The taller man hissed as he dropped down.

  Deidre couldn’t see who the jerk spoke to, but she had a hunch as a howl tore through the night. If the wolf didn’t stop baying, all of Mid City would come out. That’s it. Keep howling. Had she been prepared, she might have been able to cast a hex, but Deidre didn’t study hexes. She could attempt to cast one, but there was no telling if it would go correctly.

  A howl sliced through the silent summer night a second time.

  Closing her eyes, Deidre lifted her hands and focused on the black magic that dwelled within all witches. The magic she hated to use and knew so very few of. She knew the ball of green smoke turned a shade darker as she focused on calling the hex into existence.

  “Time to die, shifter trash.”

  “Goddess, please,” Deidre whispered as she shoved her hands up over the grave marker, and the hex took flight. Opening her eyes, and Deidre watched as the plume of hunter green smoke connected with not only two humans, but a third who’d been hidden. A young child.

  Waiting for a sound that couldn’t come, Deidre sucked in a deep breath. She’d cast a sleeping hex at the nasty group – knowing few hexes made that the safest to cast. Slowly, she stepped out from her hiding spot, wincing as yet another howl sliced through the air.

  Taking a step closer, Deidre spied the wolf resting its muzzle on the unmoving body of a gator. The dog’s front leg bent backward in a horrific angle. The gator’s tail lay a few feet away from the body, severed and bleeding. A gash across the top near its head told Deidre all there was to tell.

  “Goddess,” Deidre stepped closer. She didn’t have her wand with her, but she could help the wolf. “I can help.” She held her hands up in surrender, doing her best not to glance at the sleeping humans. “I’m a witch. I want to heal you, not hurt you.”

  The large black wolf nodded its head. The human coffee-colored eyes stared up at Deidre laced with pain.

  “Therapévo,” she watched as the green light emanated from her hand. The healing command could only take away the pain, not truly heal entirely, but without a potion it was all she could do.

  The wolf did not shift back. It merely whimpered in distress and looked back at the dead reptile.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t bring back the dead. Not even to say goodbye, I don’t have those skills.” Saying the words sent a crippling wave of agony through her, and Deidre dropped to her knees. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she knew all too well what the were felt. “I have to call this in.” her hands shook as she realized she didn’t have her phone or a transport potion.

  She went to tell the wolf she needed to get a phone, but the creature began to shift. Back legs elongated as the front legs shortened into arms, forcing the wolf to sit on its butt. Deidre watched, fascinated as the shift took place. The nose seemed to squish backward, a human mouth replacing the muzzle just as fur faded away leaving a beautiful woman with ebony skin and hair to match. The same coffee-colored eyes that belonged to wolf held tears.

  “Was that your partner?”

  “He was. We only just arrived here.” Tears slipped into her mouth. “I’ve heard many wonderful things about New Orleans. If this is how you greet newcomers, I should warn my pack to remain behind.”

  It was only then Deidre noticed the thick accent, she couldn’t quite place the country, but she could guess the continent.

  “You’re from Africa, then?” Now wasn’t the time for questions, but she couldn’t help herself. People asking questions kept her from breaking down nine months ago.

  “We lived out in the Savannah. Our people mixed well with our animal kind. My husband and I learned we were pregnant – the first of our mixed breeds. When our daughter was born, we sought shelter here.” A sob broke from her lips, and she collapsed against Deidre.

  The phone call could wait. “It’s all right. I’ve lost my husband as well. You cry as much as you need to,” she ran her hand in circles over the woman’s back. “And if you need to scream, you scream.”

  “The pack alpha – he accepted us so kindly.” She struggled to speak. “But the humans of this city. We didn’t know not to shift.”

  Deidre flinched, already comprehending what happened. In many areas, wereanimals did as they pleased. In America, to do so resulted in an arrest, or an attack if prejudiced humans saw. These poor people.

  “Elijah will make certain this sorted.” Deidre knew plenty about her best friend's husband, and his sense of justice made him a stone-cold leader. The humans would pay whether the police arrested them or not. Just call him, they aren’t going to meet justice any other way.

  The bitter thought shocked her, and she twitched. Gerard’s death has warped you.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying on a stranger. And thank you. For healing my leg a bit and stopping them. My poor little girl, she would have been all alone.”

  Pain wrapped around Deidre, like barbed wire, and squeezed into her heart. She’d never doubted the hex was the right thing to do, but knowing what she prevented made it even more critical. Giving in to the urge to visit Gerard resulted in saving lives.

  Sirens blared to the left of the cemetery. Deidre hadn’t called, but with all the noise, she wasn’t surprised someone had.

  “The police are here. They’ll take these men in, and then I’ll remove the hex. The laws are stern, and the Council Elect Alpha is insistent he enforce them. The police aren’t thrilled, but they don’t stand in Elijah’s way.” She watched as the car came to a stop, and Jonathon stepped out, alone. She’d never noticed the way his uniform executed his slim, but muscular frame, until the bright headlights shone behind him. She forced her attention back to the woman. “I’m Deidre, when this is all over, you come find me at the station. I’m going to make sure you and your little girl are safe.”

  “Bless you. I am Shandra.” The woman’s tear-filled gaze drifted back to her dead husband. “That was Kona.” She cried out again as the words reminded her of what she lost.

  “Deidre?” Jonathon stepped closer. “What in the hell happened here?”

  She rubbed her hand over her face. “I interrupted a murder, but only one.” The words held all the bitterness swirling through her.

  He looked past her, taking in the dead gator who’d begun to shift back to the man as the life vanished from his body taking the magic of a shift with it. “I need backup to St. Louis Three. One dead, potentially more.” Jonathon released the button on the shoulder radio. “What did you do?”

  Fire burned through her. “I saved this woman’s life.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “Of course, I didn’t! I’m not an idiot, nor am I a killer.”

  Jonathon’s shoulders relaxed as he sighed. “Thank god. I couldn’t explain that shit to Sam if I wanted too.”

  “You really thought I’d not only killed three people but performed an illegal hex in the attempt to save one life? They’re asleep, damn it.”

  His dark eyes pierced into hers. “I know how far you’d go to save a life after losing him.”

  The words slammed into her with all the force of a car crash, stealing the breath from her lungs even though he hadn’t struck her.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “It’s absolutely fair. You’re a good person, but if you watched this woman’s husband undergo an attack, I don’t think you’d hesitate to do what you needed to. Even if it meant murder.” He finally seemed to remember Deidre wasn’t alone at the scene. “Ma’am I’m very sorry for your experience tonight. I know this will seem insensitive, but I’m going to have to ask you
to come to the station with me to file the report.”

  Shandra held no malice in her eyes when she looked at Jonathon – which was more than could say about herself.

  “Yes, of course. My people, who have traditions for when one of our pack dies. Will I be able to do this for my …” her words trailed off as she hung her head.

  “Absolutely, Ma’am. This won’t be an investigation, looks like we have the culprits right here thanks to Deidre.” Honest to goodness admiration seemed to linger in the words and in his eyes as he glanced at her.

  A woman could get lost in his stare if they liked their men intense. She shrugged off the thought. “I don’t even have shoes on – don’t ask – I assume I’m not allowed to get any?”

  Jonathon glanced around. He didn’t know exactly where she lived, but he did know it was nearby. “When someone arrives to help Miss Shandra, I’ll escort you to your house. You’re not under arrest, there’s no reason we can’t let one of our own get dressed after a good deed.” He narrowed his gaze as his hand touched her shoulder. “A god damn reckless one at that.”

  “I did what I had too.”

  He merely nodded. “I get it, Dee. I just wish you wouldn’t have taken this on alone.”

  A shiver raced through her at the implication that these trashy excuses for humans could possibly come after her if they learned who knocked them out.

  “I told Sam last week, I’ll tell you, too. I can handle myself, Detective Trevors.”

  “Apparently not enough to remember shoes before leaving the house in the middle of the night.” He teased.

  Oh, shut the hell up, cocky is far too good a look on you. She liked Jonathon Trevors enough. She’d never even tried to ignore how attractive he was. Just like Sam, Elijah, and Tanner, the man was the stuff of police-man fantasies. If a woman likes that sort of thing.

  Snorting at herself, Deidre ignored his questioning brow and turned back to Shandra who’d already wandered to lie herself over her husband’s body, sobs wracking through her slender form.

  Five

  Nothing good ever approached in the form of three cops. Especially when one was the alpha of New Orleans.

  Remy bit into his cheek, forcing his bark of annoyance to remain hidden. Assaulting or insulting these men would not only lead to issues, it was a battle he could not possibly win.

  “Gentleman, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I am certain none in my congregation have done harm.”

  Elijah’s presence was an insult after the alpha failed to get justice at the most recent meeting, but if he arrived, something got ugly.

  Elijah’s eyes flashed briefly with annoyance and then settled back to the calm neutral the man often wore. “I am here on behalf of the shifters, I have no words to speak.” The sentiment, to guard the cops, was left out but not unheard.

  Remy glanced toward the men with badges swinging around their neck. He knew neither, which meant they were human or unimportant. Still, if they brought news, they could either be his greatest advocates or more trash out to help only those within the city limits.

  “Sam Carson, NOPD,” The taller, broader man stuck his hand out. “This is Jonathon Trevors, the warlock assigned to what we’re here to tell you. We know you’re not in our jurisdiction, but the lines are bit blurred on this one.”

  The phony smile slipped off Remy’s lips. The police didn’t introduce themselves when things were on the up and up. New Orleans cops also didn’t have business operating outside of New Orleans. “What happened?” His arms crossed over his chest and his gator seemed to swim at the surface of his consciousness.

  “I’m sorry. There’s no kind way to deliver this news. There was an attack, early this morning, down in Mid City. A weregator – one not yet affiliated with your family – was murdered.” Sam spoke, his eyes politely staying on Remy’s as he delivered the news. “They recently arrived in New Orleans, and from the woman’s account, were hunted after they shifted without knowledge of American laws. They are old. Powerful. The survivor believes they spooked their attackers. They did not know of our laws specifically in the city, either. They should have, but without proper knowledge of the city, they shifted out of territory for either species.”

  “Humans,” Remy snarled as rage turned the edges of his vision black.

  “While we are not at liberty to release that information, I can assure you the criminals have been caught and will be put to Council justice.” The other man, Jonathon, spoke. He did not avoid eye contact either, and his piercing, dark gaze seemed as if it could belong to a wereeagle.

  “I want the name of the dead. My people or not, he was assaulted in my city.”

  “Of course, we are here to do just that.” Jonathon’s brown eyes narrowed. “Unless you’d like to keep making demands of the NOPD. We’ve got a nice little holding cell, complete with a couple drunks.”

  “Trevors,” Elijah let out a low growl.

  “Fuck you, wolf.” Jonathon didn’t so much as turn to face Elijah. “You are not on the force, and you are not my High Priest. I am here in the capacity of the NOPD. I will protect my job as I see fit.”

  Some of Remy’s anger shifted to curiosity. So not a were, and unafraid of one of the most physically powerful men in the city. He could be useful.

  “My sincerest apologies. Anger gets the best of me. I appreciate the NOPD working to catch murderers. In fact, just last month, I brought my discontent with the number of accidental weregator killings and intentional gator slaughtering out this way up to Elijah.”

  The warlock’s steely gaze flickered to confusion for just a moment before the calm of a police officer slipped back into place. “The NOPD do their best to create a safe environment for all while working with the Council of Supernaturals. Elijah Vikander is a strong representative, and I know he will take your cause to the top.”

  Unafraid and loyal when needed. A smile began to curve over Remy’s lips, and he quickly bit down on his mouth. “Tell me, officers, what do I need to do to gain access to information on the murder charges?”

  “There will be no case. These perpetrators go directly to the Council as they were subdued while attempting to murder the gator’s mate.”

  “Another of mine in danger.” He snarled accidentally.

  “She is a wolf. A woman I granted acceptance into my pack with her gator mate because they preferred to remain among wolves.”

  Remy bristled at that. New gators belonged to his congregation, or they were labeled rouge and put down. Elijah operated the wolf pack on the same standards. Unless it suits him to do otherwise, apparently.

  The anger from moments before started as a prickle at the back of mind and grew with every moment despite the trio standing before him, assuring him justice would be served.

  “What is being done to ensure this stops? Mid City is a far cry from my bayou.”

  “The police and the Council will be working on this.” Jonathon offered out his hand. “You have my word.”

  Remy didn’t take the offered gesture. “So more empty promises and more dead wereanimals?”

  “It’s not as if your kind don’t kill for sport.” Sam spat, drawing Remy’s gaze.

  “Did you say something?” Remy forced his feet to remain rooted against the ground, again realizing he would not win in a fight.

  “He said nothing. He’s just a cop sick of seeing any species die. You come to me if you need something. I promise you, this won’t go without my justice.” Elijah’s lip curled back on the final word.

  “Your justice aligns with my own, but I want this to stop.” Remy hissed, losing control over his temper bit by bit.

  “As do we.” Jonathon put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. He leaned over and whispered something in the other man’s ear that calmed him down.

  “I’ll appreciate not having you darken my door any time soon.” Remy shook, his body trembling at the idea that the cops dared to speak in hushed tones in front of him as if he were some sort of villain.

>   “See you soon, Remy.” Elijah saluted, never the peacekeeper by any means but clearly trying to be for some reason.

  Remy didn’t wait for them to leave. He pushed past them on the dock and stared across the bayou. Signs of life – animal and shifter – chirped and moved through the murky waters and tall grass. The bayou wasn’t safe, and neither was the city, apparently. Warlocks and humans alike seemed to disregard the issue, and he couldn’t be entirely positive Elijah took it seriously either. Though, the attack occurring against a wolf went a long way to ensure the Viking would get the proper justice.

  Letting his hand slip into his pocket, it came free with his cell phone. There was no need to look as he punched the numbers on the touch screen.

  “Sir?” Carlone’s rich Cajun accent answered quickly as ever.

  “Call a colony meeting. I want as many as we can round up. Fifteen minutes. The dance hall.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  The line went dead, and Remy slipped his phone into his pocket and heard the familiar sound of a car starting behind him – law enforcement was on the way out.

  His beast wanted to get free, but Remy wasn’t keen on giving into his emotions. He could feel the gator’s discontent in the back of his mind, but he wouldn’t shift. He didn’t think the anger would run it’s course without a potion, and Remy didn’t enjoy the longevity of a potion messing with his mind or body. “Later. We’ll go for a swim later.”

  For months he’d known the only way to stop the killing was getting rid of the killers. He couldn’t do alone, no shifter could, but he could purchase the right spells, grab the proper people, and New Orleans could be cleansed.

  “Yes. Cleansed. Of all those who cannot hold their breaths.”

  Thirty-three people chatted away mindlessly in the dance hall his congregation ran for weddings and tourists. Smiling wedding pictures covered the wooden walls, and the interior looked more like a swamp shack than anywhere else Remy ever saw. The windows held no glass, allowing the trees and bushes to grow into the building. They were trimmed and proper, but they, along with dragonflies and other bugs, commonly came in and out when the windows shutters were open.