C is for Crow: The A B C's of Witchery (Moonbeam Chronicles Book 3)

by Carolina Mac

  The old guy, Rudy, seemed to know where he was going and that’s all that mattered.

  I leaned back, closed my eyes and didn’t open them until we docked in Thibodaux.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Thursday, November 5th.

  Thibodaux. Louisiana.

  Misty knew of a great little diner within walking distance of our motel. We ambled down the street in the bright morning sunlight and sat down for breakfast.

  The busy waitress served us coffee the moment we were seated and the hot brew was exactly what I needed.

  Bobo and Rudy stayed to eat breakfast with us, then they would begin the long trip on the river to get back to where they came from. Misty seemed to know where that was and chatted to them about family members, but I didn’t know any of the names she mentioned.

  “I heard from Rufin,” said Misty. “Antoinette’s body has been released from the morgue and the funeral will be tonight.”

  “At night and so soon?” I launched the query fearing the answer was steeped in some witchy ritual I’d never heard of.

  “The moon will be full,” said Misty, “and Rufin prefers a moonlight burial for his beloved mother.”

  “Sure. Whatever Rufin wants.” I nodded my head and paid attention to my scrambled eggs. Rufin had a totally weird side that I was grateful to find out about before anything meaningful happened between us.

  Ardal rolled his eyes and reading the expression on his adorable face, I could see the disappointment. He wanted to leave for Texas, not go to a moonlight funeral.

  “How wonderful,” said Diana. “I can’t picture anything more natural for Rufin and Banjo than a funeral beneath a full moon.”

  Ardal cast Diana a stink-eye on the sly as I sipped my hot beverage wishing I had a shot of tequila to dump into my mug.

  The food was tasty and service was quick in the little diner. After breakfast, we gathered our belongings from the motel, checked out and walked to the river.

  After saying farewell to Rudy and Bobo at the wharf, we piled into my truck and headed back to New Orleans.

  Ardal seemed relieved to be one step closer to leaving Louisiana. Pete didn’t seem to care one way or the other. He slept all the way home with his head on Moon’s lap.

  Nine Saint Gillian Street. New Orleans.

  The moment we arrived back at Misty’s house, she headed straight for the kitchen, opened the fridge and began preparing food.

  “Are you hosting the wake?” I asked. “You never mentioned it.”

  “I thought I would,” said Misty. “At the very least I’ll prepare some of the quicker dishes and order the rest. It would save Rufin having to worry about it.”

  “I’ll help you if I can. I’m not much use in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll bake,” said Moonbeam, “if that will help.”

  “Moonbeam and I will work on the food we can make quickly,” said Misty. “Perhaps you and Ardal could drive to the shops I have on the list and pick up the food I have on order.”

  I was with you the entire time we were away and I didn’t see you order any food.

  “Sure, we can do that. How many people are coming?”

  “The Pictou’s are a large family,” said Misty. “There might be a crowd.”

  “Ardal and I will get started on the list.” I winked at him and we headed out to the truck.

  “I’m glad we’re doing something, Gilly. I didn’t want to sit around until dark waiting for the fuckin moonlight funeral.”

  “Me neither. I want to go home. I feel like I need to check on Jody.”

  “The neighbor?” Ardal made a face. “Why?”

  “Don’t know. Something is nagging at me about Jody.”

  Ardal shrugged it off and concentrated on the list.

  “Punch in the first address. I have no idea where I’m going in New Orleans. I’m a stranger in this city.”

  Ardal and I spent the afternoon picking up food, beer, and wine. Our last stop was a French bakery and it smelled so delicious inside, I didn’t want to leave.

  With the back seat of the truck loaded, we parked in the lane behind Misty’s huge house and hauled all of our cargo inside.

  “Thank you both so much for doing that,” said Misty. “It took y’all most of the afternoon and Moon and I got a lot done while y’all were gone. We’re almost ready.”

  “What time is the funeral?” asked Ardal.

  “It’s at ten at the graveyard. Saint Louis Cemetery is where the Pictou family plot is. Antoinette will be buried right next to Marie Laveau’s Tomb. She was the famous voodoo queen. I didn’t know her, of course, but Mother did.”

  “Voodoo Queen?” Ardal’s eyes widened as he shoved cans of beer into the fridge to cool.

  “Help yourself to a beer, Ardal,” said Misty. “You’ve been tense the past couple of days.”

  He blew out a long breath. “I hoped it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve had bad feelings since before we found Mrs. Pictou all hacked up in the big barn. I don’t know what it is.”

  “Premonition,” said Misty. “Everyone has some inkling of the future. Some more than others. Roll with it and don’t be afraid to say what you’re feeling out loud. It’s probably correct. Never a good idea to doubt your intuition, Ardal.”

  “No, for sure. I’ll just spew out whatever comes into my head.”

  I smiled at my little brother, grabbed a beer and chugged half down while I put a dozen bottles of wine into the cooler at the other end of the kitchen.

  After a quick supper of spaghetti and meatballs made by Moonbeam, we tidied the kitchen and dressed for the funeral.

  I didn’t have anything with me that was funeral worthy, so I had to settle for black dress pants and a black silk blouse. My hair was non-cooperative, so I tied it back and held it in place with a black ribbon.

  Ardal paced in the upstairs hallway. “What am I going to wear to a funeral, Gilly? I had no idea we’d be going to a funeral and I didn’t bring any clothes like that with me.”

  Misty called out from her room, “I have a dark suit you can wear, Ardal. I’ll get it for you in a moment.” Misty emerged from her bedroom carrying a black suit on a hanger. She handed it to Ardal and he went into his room to change.

  In a long black dress that crinkled when she walked, Misty looked amazing. She had an extensive wardrobe of the most bizarre clothes I’d ever laid eyes on. All of them looked marvelous on her and I wondered if they were custom made. Tall and slim with that long silver hair, she did justice to whatever she wore.

  Saint Louis Cemetery. Basin Street.

  As we walked along the stone path bordered on both sides by huge ancient tombstones, I could see a crowd gathered next to the mausoleum.

  “Is that where the Voodoo Queen is buried?” whispered Ardal.

  “Must be. I wouldn’t want to spend eternity right next to her.”

  “I guess Rufin’s mother does. This is the creepiest funeral I’ve ever been to.”

  “Maybe it will get better,” I whispered. “We’ll get drunk and we won’t notice—that’s my plan.”

  “Yeah, I’ll go that route with you.”

  It was pitch dark, the crowd of mourners was large and I couldn’t see much of what was going on at the graveside. Rufin stood hunched over, head down with Banjo on his shoulder. His long dark hair covered most of his face and I couldn’t read his expression.

  Charlotte stood close to Rufin with her arm linked through his. Her long flowing gown in electric blue matched her hair exactly and she glowed blue head to toe in the moonlight.

  How sweet and monochromatic.

  I turned my head and vowed not to look at her for the rest of the night. Who the hell was she trying to impress? Rufin—obviously.

  Ardal and I were at the back edge of the crowd and we couldn’t hear what the man was saying. From a distance, he looked and sounded like one of the creepy, scary voodoo guys I saw in a movie once. Listening to his deep Darth Vader voice made me shiver. Thankfully, a lot of people
were weeping loudly for Madam Pictou and drowning out the words the ugly dude was saying.

  Rufin was clearly a mess. I wasn’t close enough or in the right frame of mind to give him my condolences. That might have to wait until we got back to Misty’s house for the wake. Thinking about all the delicious food Ardal and I had picked up, I was suddenly feeling hungry.

  After voodoo man finished shouting out his words of wisdom, several witches had kind words to say about Antoinette and her talents. Then a couple of wizards spoke highly of both her and her husband—Rufin’s step-father—the wizard Pictou.

  Where was he? Was wizard Pictou deceased?

  More and more people arrived and the crowd grew and grew in size.

  By the end of the memorial, at least fifty people were on hand and Misty generously invited them all to her house for the wake.

  Nine Saint Gillian Street. New Orleans.

  Not only was Misty’s house packed to the rafters with Rufin’s family and friends, but some of his kin lit a huge bonfire in Misty’s backyard.

  Misty glanced out the kitchen window and inhaled a quick breath. “Oh dear, I hope the neighbors don’t call the fire department. I’ll get another citation from the city.”

  “Do you want me to go out and ask them to put it out?” I headed for the door.

  Misty seemed upset. “Don’t bother, it’s too late now.” She pointed out the window. “They’re already here.” She took off her apron and headed out to face the music and I felt bad for her. She tried so hard to help Rufin and now she was going to get a ticket from the city for something she had no part of. Not fair.

  Strobes flashed in the back lane and six hunky firefighters tramped through the gate into the yard. Pete ran ahead of me to greet them with a growl.

  As we passed the blaze, the fire raged about twenty or thirty feet high into the air, shooting sparks even higher. All the neighbors for blocks could see it if they happened to be up that late.

  The first fireman through the gate said, “I’d like to speak to the property owner, please.”

  “That’s me,” said Misty. “This is my house. I’m holding a wake for a friend who lost his mother to a violent end.”

  “This is a funeral wake?”

  “Yes, it is. I’m sorry if the bonfire is a little high. I’ll ask the relatives of the deceased to let it go out.”

  “Would you, please? Some of your neighbors are worried about the blaze spreading to their properties.”

  “It will never spread,” said Misty. “People are watching the blaze closely.”

  The fireman smiled. “Let it die down, okay? Keep the peace on your street.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you for understanding.”

  Ardal and I watched the fire truck back out the narrow lane and drive away. “I’m glad you didn’t get a ticket, Misty. It’s not your fault they lit a big fire.”

  “I’ll ask Rufin not to add any more wood.”

  “Good idea.” Misty sounded so sad, I felt like punching Rufin in his smug, good-looking face. Looking around to see where he was, I spotted him standing near the fire with Charlotte close by his side and Banjo perched on his shoulder. Michele and Diana were with him too.

  “I’m going in for another beer,” I said to Ardal. “Want another one, sugar?”

  “Sure do. This party sucks huge and the people are freaking me out.”

  Inside Misty’s house, dozens of strange looking people were crowded into the dining room helping themselves to the lavish buffet Misty had organized and paid for. I sized them up and figured all of Rufin’s family were either witches or wizards or worse. I’d never seen a demon up close, but I had a demonic feeling about some of the folks ravaging the buffet table.

  That’s a family I want no part of.

  Grabbing two beers out of the fridge in the kitchen, I headed back outside. Passing through the house, I didn’t see Moonbeam anywhere. She could have gone upstairs to bed when I was outside the first time. I checked the time on my cell and it was three in the morning. No sign of guests leaving yet. Yep. It was going to be an all-nighter.

  Damn it. I wanted to leave first thing in the morning and now I might as well skip going to bed and just stay up.

  Ardal and I stood together on the deck smoking and watching the fire die down.

  I said, “We should get a couple hours sleep before we head home, sugar. I was thinking of staying up, but it would catch up with me later when I was driving.”

  “Yeah. This is my last beer and I’m crashing.”

  “Me too. I think we’ve paid our respects to Mrs. Pictou for long enough.”

  “For sure,” said Ardal. “Where’s Pete? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “He was at the back gate when the firemen were here.”

  “I’ll go look for him,” said Ardal. “We can’t go to bed if he’s missing.”

  “I’ll come with. It’s dark back there in the lane and a lot of creepy people are hanging around. Rufin’s buddies and his kin are weird.”

  Ardal led the way past the bonfire, past the empty fish pond and back to the rusty gate that led into the lane running behind all the houses on Saint Gillian Street. He fiddled with the gate until he got the latch to work. The gate squeaked open and Ardal pushed it harder to make room for both of us to squeeze through.

  “Pete, where are you?” I called. “Are you out here?”

  My big dog came running down the lane growling. “It’s about time you came looking for me, Gilly. I’m tired and I want to go to bed. I didn’t even get my kibbles yet.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I guess I forgot to feed you with all the funeral stuff going on. Come on. We’ll get you fed and we’ll all go to bed whether anybody else does or not.”

  Heading for the house, we had to pass the bonfire again and this time Rufin stepped away from Charlotte long enough to speak to me.

  “I want to thank you, Gilly, for finding Virgile Gallant and killing him. Mama can rest in peace now that her murder has been avenged.”

  “You’re welcome.” Holding in feelings of pure anger, and deep disappointment, I kept walking, trying to catch up with Pete and Ardal.

  We passed through the kitchen crowd, avoided the dining room mob, and made our way through the foyer to the stairs.

  Moonbeam was sitting in the front parlor drinking coffee with an old guy I’d never seen before. I stood in the doorway and said, “We’re going to bed, Moon. Can you be ready to leave by eight in the morning?”

  “Sure, dear. I’ll be ready.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Friday, November 6th.

  Nine Saint Gillian Street. New Orleans.

  Moonbeam whipped up a quick breakfast for all of us. Now that Rufin was sorted out, the funeral was over and Virgile Gallant was dead, Misty had decided to fly home to Austin. She was missing Forest and Blaine and her family needed her.

  With Rufin staying behind to deal with his mother’s estate, we had room for Misty in the truck if she wanted to come with us, but she opted for the quicker way home. She’d fly and be home in just over two hours.

  Ardal had our luggage loaded in the back of the truck and was the first one ready to depart. He couldn’t wait to get going.

  I hugged Misty and thanked her for everything.

  “Give me a day to get caught up after I get home and we’ll have a little meeting when you get to Elgin,” she said. “There is plenty for y’all to do in Texas.”

  “I could use a few days of down time,” I said. “My house isn’t even all unpacked and settled yet. I’d like to get that done.”

  “Take your time,” said Misty. “There will be evil lurking around every corner whenever y’all are ready to tackle it.”

  Ardal rolled his eyes and ran with Pete for the truck.

  I vowed not to think about evil lurking, at least until I got home and had a couple of beers.

  Lafayette. Louisiana.

  While stopped for a break at the rest area outside of Lafayette, I sat on
a bench in the doggie area and lit up a smoke. Giving up smoking would have to wait until I got home and calmed down a little. I vowed to myself I would do it, but not yet. Too many stressors. The time had to be right. I was making excuses but what the hell. My lungs.

  No other dog walkers were around, so I let Pete run on his own. Sonny was doing Pete’s thinking and he knew what Pete should or shouldn’t do and I trusted him—this one time.

  Caw. Caw.

  Wings flapped. I jumped up off the bench ready to run and the crow landed on my shoulder, sinking its talons into my skin and making me screech.

  “Whoa, that hurts.”

  Ardal came running when I yelled. “Who is that? Is that Banjo?”

  “Get him off my shoulder. He’s digging his claws in.”

  Ardal reached out and the crow pecked his hand and gouged out a little chunk of flesh. “Hey, fuck you, crow. That hurt.” Ardal made a face at the crow. “I’m bleeding you mean fuckin bird.”

  The crow loosened the grip with one of his scrawny little legs and Ardal saw the note. “He brought a note.”

  “Great. I don’t want a fuckin note. I want to go home and water my grass.”

  “Peck me again and you’re dead.” Ardal threatened Banjo before he awkwardly tried to remove the band and the note from the crow’s leg. “Got it.” He unrolled the scrap of paper and smoothed it out trying to read the writing. “Here, you read it.”

  Poison. Help me.

  “Did Rufin send this?” I asked the crow.

  Caw.

  “Is that yes or no?” Ardal stared at the jet black bird.

  Pete came running back from the doggie path. “What’s that crow doing here? Is that Banjo?”

  “I think so,” I said. “Don’t know for sure.”

  “What does he want?”

  “Not sure about that either. He brought a note.”

  Moonbeam returned from the ladies’ room and I showed her the note. “Is Rufin being poisoned?”

  I shrugged. “No idea who sent the note. I’m thinking it was Rufin, this being his crow n’all. But is he the one being poisoned? And what are we supposed to do about it?”