by Arden, Alys
“Now let’s talk about the psychics,” Edgar said. I was acutely aware that he’d noticed me glancing back at Callis, and I hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea.
I angled my chair so Callis was out of my sight line completely and I could give Edgar my full attention. “Should I take notes?”
He laughed. “Oh, honey, some of the things I’m going to tell you should never be committed to paper. Now, Marita is our most temperamental psychic; she loves peppermint patties. We keep a bag for her behind the counter. At least we did before the Storm.”
We finished another pot of tea as he gave me a rundown of all the psychics’ individual quirks, sensitivities, and ego boosters. When he was finished, he implored me to make myself at home. “Don’t be afraid to ask questions or touch things. You need to feel comfortable here. Lots of different people means lots of energies to mine.”
“I already feel comfortable here.” In a weird way, I’d trained my entire childhood for Bottom of the Cup.
Chatham appeared behind the counter to collect Edgar for his next appointment. When he got up, he hugged me and said, “I can see his initials.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your future husband. Do you want to know the letters?”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but then his serious brow made me jump up. “No!”
Chatham and Callis both laughed.
“Edgar!” Chatham yelled. “Leave her alone.” Onyx sprang to his shoulder.
“How awkward would that be,” Callis piped in, “if it isn’t Isaac?”
I turned to him. “How awkward would it be if he is?”
They all laughed, but then the look on Edgar’s face dropped—just a tad, but I caught it.
Oh no, my future husband is some kind of monster. I’m going to marry a beast, and it’s all unfolding in Mr. Ed’s mind right now.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing, baby.” He was clearly lying. “I just always had this little fantasy that you and Codi would end up together, take over the shop—”
“Mr. Ed!”
“Adele, call me Edgar, or I’m going to take back this job!”
“Fine!” I yelled, laughing and shaking my head. “But me and Codi? Can we please not say things like this in front of Isaac? Papa Olsin already completely freaked him out.”
“Oh, is he bothered by the metaphysical?”
“No, nothing like that. I just don’t need things to get any more complicated than they already are.”
I waited for him to make a crack about me being sixteen and not knowing complicated, but instead he squeezed my shoulder. “I hear ya, sugar.”
He and Chatham retreated to their individual booths behind the hallway curtains, and a gray-haired lady walked in from the street.
She had on a pencil skirt the color of Pepto Bismol and pearls the size of peppermints. She put a crumpled wad of cash on the counter in front of Callis, and I offered to walk her back.
“No need, sugarplum. I’ve had this appointment since before you were born. No Storm is gonna keep me from seeing my Eddie.”
I opened the counter for her to pass and watched as she waddled down the hallway and disappeared into Edgar’s booth. When the curtain stopped swaying, I turned back to Callis.
Now that I finally had him alone, there was no quick and easy way to transition back to our previous conversation. I’d come here to find a witch, but I hadn’t expected it to be this easy. I hadn’t come with a plan.
I hoped he’d bring it up again, but he opted for the mundane: “The most important thing to remember is that under no circumstance can a customer be permitted behind a curtain without an appointment.”
“Got it.”
“No matter what they say or what kind of trickery they use.”
“Got it.”
“And make sure your cell phone is always silenced. Chatham hates hearing ringtones. He says it disrupts the energy.”
“Got it.”
There were a million things I wanted to ask him about magic and about these marks—or Maleficiums or whatever he called them—but something prevented the words from coming out. I was too used to hiding everything magical, to wrapping it all in secrets and excuses. Every time the words got close to the tip of my tongue, my fingers and toes rippled with energy. I don’t know if it was just excitement, or a warning, but it reminded me of being around Nicco and that made me extra cautious.
Maybe it was just me finding it hard to trust anyone after being so wrong about him.
Callis turned to the record player and sifted through some vinyl. I investigated a rack of incense with ethereal names like Midnight Garden, Nymph’s Tears, and Graveyard Dust—special blends that Chatham’s sister, Fiona, made in the back of the shop. I pulled out a stick of Jumping Jupiter and held it under my nose. It smelled like gin.
If the Daures hired Callis, he must be okay? Psychics should be extragood judges of character, right?
I took the incense stick to the little wooden slat carved with stars on the mantel, and I glanced over at Callis, who was still flipping through records, before lighting it with my pointer finger.
As I watched the smoke drift, the music, something probably entitled “Sounds of the Forest,” dripped through the speakers like a light rain on lily pads.
“Sorry,” Callis said, giving me an apologetic look.
“I would expect nothing less.”
I ran my fingers over the book spines on the shelves next to the fireplace. He said he’s in town looking for someone. What if he’s looking for me? The coven? What if we’ve been looking for each other?
“So, Callis, where are you from?”
“A simple question with a complicated answer.”
“Everyone was born somewhere,” I said, walking back to the counter. Nicco had attacked me in the bell tower when I brought up his past—it might not have been the smartest method of moving the conversation forward, but it had certainly been effective.
“In my case, a tiny town in a distant memory.”
“So you don’t have any ties to New Orleans?”
“I’ve always felt a special kinship to the city . . . in spirit. But not consanguineous ties, if that’s what you meant.”
Morning Star’s descendants could have ended up anywhere, right? After all, Susannah’s had ended up in New York. Isaac didn’t know he had any ties to NOLA before he ended up here.
I leaned against the counter, fiddling with the medallion around my neck. I even flipped it over, just in case he’d recognize it like Nicco and Gabe both had. The necklace didn’t draw Callis’s attention, but I did catch him glancing at my arm again. It felt like an invitation to be more direct.
“So, what kind of witch are you?” I mentally crossed my fingers for Water.
His weight shifted, and his gaze dropped.
“Sorry, you don’t have to tell—”
“It’s fine.”
He picked up a three-inch candle made of swirls of white and purple wax from an impulse-purchase basket on the counter. He stared at the wick, squinting. His brow creased as a little wisp of smoke emitted from the wick. He exhaled loudly. “Well, that was pathetic,” he said, waving the smoke away. “But I should be well used to it by now.”
A Fire witch?
There was a little charred spot on the wick, and an even bigger one on his ego. He appeared genuinely upset and embarrassed. What kind of Fire witch couldn’t light a candle? Shit, is he really a witch? Unless . . .
“Callis, do you know about mixed magic versus preserved magic?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Is that why . . . ? Your magic—?”
“No. My family’s been of the Fire variety since the dawn of time.”
“Then . . . what happened to your magic?”
“Well. That’s the reason I’m here, in New Orleans.” He hesitated, as if carefully monitoring my reaction. “I’m looking for someone. Someones. Brothers.”
The one li
ttle word got my complete attention, though I knew better than to let it show.
“I’ve been told they’ve used many aliases over the years,” he continued, “Cartier in France, and Carter here in the US, but their baptismal names are Emilio and Niccolò of the house di Medici, di Firenze.”
Suddenly I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. “Oh.” My heart raced so fast it was hard to speak at a normal speed. “Were they here during the Storm? There’s a website to report missing people.”
“They aren’t missing. Well, they are, but not because of the Storm. ‘Hiding’ might be a better word. I’ve been tracking them for . . . well, it seems like ages now. A locator spell led me to New Orleans, but just as we got to the Vieux Carré, they disappeared from the map. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’d used magic.”
“Oh, they’re witches too?”
He looked directly at me, his expression stern. “They’re vampires, Adele, and they are never to be trusted.”
“Pfft. Why would anyone ever trust a vampire?” My throat went dry, and my hands found the charms dangling at my waist. “I know I’m pretty new to all of this supernatural stuff, but why would anyone actually go looking for a vampire? That seems like the exact opposite of what a reasonable person would do.”
“Who said I was reasonable?”
I couldn’t tell if he was evading the question, so I just waited, unafraid to meet his gaze.
“I’m looking for Niccolò and Emilio Medici because I’m going to kill them.”
My mouth pinched shut, but a noise expelled from the back of my throat.
A spoon rattled against one of the zodiac tables behind me; I flipped around, but before I could stop the metallic reaction, the spoon knocked the cup and saucer to the floor, shattering them both.
“Julie!” I scolded, grabbing a rag and spray bottle of cleanser, glad to have an excuse to walk away.
HOLY SHIT.
Breathe.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Callis said behind me. “That killing them won’t bring my magic back.”
Not what I was going to say.
“But maybe,” he continued, “it will prevent another witch from suffering a similar fate—if I can save just one witch from losing their magic, it will be worth it.”
I carefully picked up the chunks of porcelain and took them to the trash can behind the counter. “So . . . what do the Medici have to do with your magic?” I was sure I’d said the name too casually, but if Callis suspected I knew something, he didn’t let on.
“I was a very powerful witch before the Medici attacked me. Before Niccolò and Emilio Medici tortured me—fed off me like the unhallowed, diabolical lusus naturae they are.” His eyes fell to the counter. “For weeks they held me captive, taking turns draining my blood, and my magic, and almost my life.”
Tears pricked my eyes.
“I’m just grateful for my baby sister,” he said. “Otherwise I’m not sure there would be a reason to wake up each morning. For what is a magicless life for a witch?”
“That’s . . . that’s . . . horrible.” I had no reason to doubt Callis. In fact, everything he was saying added up. Nicco had admitted to me that he and Emilio had tortured people in the past—here in New Orleans, even—when they’d posed as the Carter brothers. I guess Nicco and Emilio had roared through more than just the 1920s together if they’d gotten Callis too.
Are you really surprised that they continued to hurt people through the century? He threw you out of a window two months ago, Adele.
But I was still surprised . . . for some reason, hearing that Nicco was a monster never got easier.
“I’m quite certain they’re still here,” Callis said. “I may not have my full level of magic, but a witch’s intuition is always their strongest asset.”
He smiled at me, and I quickly wiped my eyes.
“And if they’re not still here, well, I think I’ve fallen a little in love with this city, even in its half-dead state. I’ve never had a problem with the dead—only the undead.”
I didn’t know what to say or how to react. I could feel the horror dripping from my face.
“You look frightened.”
I shook my head, since I was apparently unable to produce words.
“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have told you about the vampires, but then again, you should be warned.”
“Callis, when did you arrive in New Orleans?”
“All Hallow’s Eve.”
I looked back to the candle, and so did he.
“Adele, don’t think me weak because I’ve lost my Elemental magic. There are other ways. I’m going to get them. I’m going to get their entire clan.”
That’s exactly what I’m scared of.
I left the shop, entering the nighttime air, a frazzled sack of emotions. A real-live victim of the Medici. My chest shuddered at the thought of Callis killing the vampires. I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t think about Callis killing my mother. Whatever happened between Nicco, Emilio, and Callis is between them. I will not let Callis kill my mom.
My hands sparkled like the Fourth of July.
“Shit!” I whispered, shaking them out.
I pulled my coat tighter across my chest and picked up the pace. We had to find the other coven members.
It was hard to imagine someone surviving the infamous John and Wayne Carter. I guess the brothers got more than they were bargaining for when they caught a witch. That seemed to be the Medici’s fatal flaw: underestimating witches.
I felt the vibrations of my phone through the thick wool pockets: 7 missed calls: Désirée Borges. 10 missed calls: Isaac Thompson.
What the hell?
Désirée 4:41 p.m. u need to call me. Right now.
Isaac 4:45 p.m. Please call me before u talk to Desiree. I can explain. I swear.
Désirée 5:39 p.m. DO THEY NOT HAVE PHONES AT THAT PLACE?!?!?!?!?
I didn’t even get a chance to read the rest of the messages before the phone rang.
“I’m a few blocks away,” I said before Désirée could speak.
“Good. Because I’m about to either kill your boyfriend or kiss him.”
Something felt different even as I walked through the gate. Not danger, per se. Intensity. Désirée and Isaac were on the porch, in the cold, clearly waiting for me.
“What’s wrong . . . ?” My voice trailed off as I saw her. “What. Fresh. Hell?”
“I can explain—”
“You?” I yelled up to Isaac. “You brought Annabelle Lee Drake here? Here?”
“I hope you like being single,” Désirée said to him, and ran down the stairs.
Isaac ran down the set on the opposite side, and they both got to me at the same time.
Then, by some sick twist of fate, Isaac, Désirée, and I were standing in the yard while Annabelle stood on the porch of our headquarters, arms crossed, smiling her sweet, bitchy smile at me. She even had the audacity to wave.
Isaac’s voice was pleading, but my attention went to Désirée first.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “Birdboy says she’s a witch, but she’s been unwilling to prove it to me since I got here.”
My eyes grew wide, and my hands went behind my back, fists clenched. Breathe.
“She’s an Aether witch,” Isaac said.
“Oh, is that how she was able to win you over?” I snapped.
“Thanks a lot. Could you give me a little more credit than that?”
“I don’t care what kind of witch she allegedly is. Why would you bring her here?”
“I didn’t mean—I just wanted—I tried to stop her from coming through the gate, but she rushed past me!”
“You’re an Air witch. You couldn’t think of any way to keep her out?”
“I didn’t let her in the house!”
This can’t be happening.
I took deep breaths as it all became painfully obvious: Thurston’s unwillingness to leave Annabelle despite his feel
ings for Georgie, Mr. Noah bending to her will so easily. I’d always known there was something unnatural about the way Annabelle got everything she wanted, how everyone around her worshipped her.
Isaac’s voice softened. “She’s an Aether witch, Adele. She saw through the invisibility spell.”
Is he saying? “You . . . think she’s our fourth? Our Aether witch?”
“I know it. Just as much as we know this place belonged to Cosette Monvoisin.”
I looked at the way her hair was twisted into a crown on top of her head, and then to Isaac, and my teeth pressed together. Whether she was a witch or even a future coven member, I still didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her, and I did not want Annabelle Lee Drake knowing our secrets—especially not about my mother’s new family. “What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t tell her anything!” Isaac whispered. “I saw her mark, and she saw mine, and she told me about Maleficiums.”
“About what?” Désirée asked.
“Yeah, Dee?” Annabelle yelled down from the porch. “Why didn’t you explain his Maleficium to him? Unless you don’t know about—? No.”
It was a good thing Dee wasn’t a Fire witch, because, based on her expression, the whole house would have blown. What alternate universe did I step into where Annabelle Lee Drake knows something about magic that Dee doesn’t?
No one else said anything for a minute, and we had a good old-fashioned witches’ stare-off, me rocking back and forth on my feet.
“Fine,” Annabelle said. “I’ll go.”
“No,” the three of us said at the same time.
“I don’t want to stay where I’m not wanted, even if it’s my family’s invisibility spell.”
“This can’t be happening,” I mumbled. “I need more proof.”
Annabelle must have heard me, because she stepped to the edge of the porch and lifted her hands slowly to the sky. We all craned our necks to gaze upward. The barrier cloaking the property showed itself: an ethereal shield that twinkled under the nighttime sky like a borrowed net of stars.
“Whoa,” Désirée said.
It was impossible not to be impressed by something so beautiful.
Dammit.
The three of us looked to each other, Isaac’s eyebrow raising, implying that it was enough evidence for him. Dee’s stern brow released, and that left everyone looking at me.
