Marked by Temptation: Bourbon Street Spin-off (The Jade Calhoun Series Book 1)

by Deanna Chase

  And since I was in college, that was a good thing.

  “Conserve?” Ashley gave me her you’ve-lost-your-mind look. “Aren’t you brimming with power right now?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a big day tomorrow.” I was working with Chessandra, and that meant I’d need my strength. If I had any. I was feeling pretty light-headed at the moment.

  Ashley frowned and then yawned. “Well, whatever. Can we go in now?”

  “Sure.” I slipped out of her Honda and followed her into the entry of our Victorian four-plex. We both lived on the top floor. Me on the left and her on the right.

  “Need a ride to school tomorrow?” she asked.

  “No thanks. My bike is back from the shop.” I gestured to the gated driveway. “Brandon took me to get it earlier today.”

  She rubbed her tired eyes and nodded. “Okay. See you tomorrow night then.” She disappeared into her apartment while I was still fishing my key out of my pocket. Only it wasn’t there. Shit! It was probably on Vaughn’s tiled entryway somewhere. Well, there was nothing else to do but break in.

  I placed my hand flat over the deadbolt and called my power. It was there, brewing beneath the surface, but it flickered with instability. Damn. After my night, I shouldn’t even have had to think about the spell. What was wrong? I had been working very hard with Chessandra. Maybe I should’ve given Vaughn my number. I was going to need another fix in no time. At least I had an excuse to go back to his house thanks to that missing key.

  After a few moments, my power warmed my hand and I visualized the lock turning. I heard the soft click and strode into my apartment, exhausted. If I fell asleep right then, I’d be lucky to get four hours before my alarm went off. Mornings weren’t my thing, so I took a quick shower and fifteen minutes later crawled into bed.

  ***

  I’d missed class. Damned snooze button. It was early afternoon, and I stood on the bank of the river on the Coven Pointe side, waiting for Chessandra to show up. It was cold and the wind blew off the Mississippi as I gazed at the French Quarter, resenting my sister more than she would ever know. Where the heck was she?

  The whole point of working for Chessa was so that I would have more time to devote to my studies. But so far I’d had less time, or at the very least, less energy. Chessa was obsessed with this new spell we’d been working on. If we didn’t get it today, I was going to have to take a break from her. I had too much work to do.

  I was a double major in business and fine art. I planned to run a store devoted to my two loves: witchcraft and art. I’m not much of an artist myself, but I’m fascinated with all the creativity New Orleans breeds. I had visions of selling any creation that paid tribute to witchcraft and witches of all kinds.

  My mom hated the idea. She’d prefer I not go to college at all and work in her spell shop. No thanks. I’m not too excited about whipping up love potions and luck charms and then having to replenish my magic with random one-night stands on a regular basis. Not that there was anything wrong with that, it just wasn’t my thing.

  I pulled my jacket around me and swore. “Damn, Chessa. I can’t wait all day.” I had a test later for my accounting class. If I missed it, I’d end up on academic probation. And then Mom would most likely refuse to pay my tuition for next semester.

  “Get over yourself. I’m right here.” Chessa materialized out of the gray mist and walked over to me, smiling as if I should find her amusing.

  I scowled. “You’re late. Again.”

  One of her perfectly groomed eyebrows rose as her chestnut hair blew in the breeze. “Cranky? I thought you were going out last night.”

  My scowl deepened. “Ugh. You’re so rude.” Usually I was relaxed and easygoing after recharging my batteries, so to speak.

  “Did it not go well?” There was real concern in her tone.

  I waved a hand, dismissing her question. “It went fine. But I have a test later. Can we get to work?” I knew I sounded irritated, but I couldn’t help it. All I really wanted was to live the life of a regular college girl. But that would mean forsaking my coven and my family. I wasn’t prepared to do that.

  “Mati?” Chessa asked. “You seem out of sorts. Want to talk about it?”

  I blew out a breath, hating that I was taking out my frustration on her. She was the head of the freaking Angel Council, for Goddess’s sake. The fact that she was taking time out to work with me one-on-one instead of sending a minion was a true testament to how much she cared about me and what we were trying to do. I pushed my frustration aside and softened my voice. “Maybe later. Sorry. I don’t mean to be such a bitch.”

  She nodded. “Obligations suck. I get it.”

  A low chuckle bubbled up, catching me by surprise. Chessa would know. She was fifteen years older than me, making her only thirty-six. At the age of eighteen she’d been pressed into service as a low-level angel here in our world. Angels didn’t have a choice. They were born into witch families and were so rare that they worked for the Council or were shunned by the magical community. She’d handled that well enough, but then two years ago, she’d battled a demon and somehow in the fight ended up absorbing the demon’s powers. The experience had made her the most powerful angel in the angel realm. Now she was forced to be the high angel whether she wanted to or not. Yes, she knew all about obligations.

  “I assume that means you’re ready to get started?” She grinned, knowing that was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Yes. The sooner we do our thing, the sooner I can stare at Professor Fallon’s bald spot.”

  She reached out and took my hand. A second later, we were standing in the shadow world next to the entrance to Hell.

  Now it was time to really see what kind of power I’d gained from Vaughn. I’d been feeling a little off all day, so I didn’t have high hopes. But there was no reason not to try. Except for that pesky problem of potentially attracting a demon. Chessa would kick its ass though. I swallowed my fear and concentrated on the spell Chessa had taught me.

  Magic stirred from deep in my gut. It was strong and almost foreign, but powerful. More powerful than I’d thought it would be. Relief flooded through me. My night with Vaughn had replenished my magic even if it did feel a little weird. It didn’t matter. The power was there, and that was what I needed.

  Chessa stood beside me, vibrating with her own intense power. If she weren’t an angel, she’d have had this spell completed weeks ago. Unfortunately, angels were too closely connected to demons to be able to modify any of their spells. Demons were, after all, fallen angels. Of course if she weren’t an angel, she never would’ve learned the spell in the first place. And it wasn’t one she could teach to just anyone. It could be used to open portals as well, if the witch was powerful enough. It was far too dangerous.

  I raised my arms and focused on the shimmering outline of the portal. Spells were mostly about intention. But some required special sayings or chants. This was one of them. “Obfirmave.” The light flickered.

  “More power,” Chessa demanded.

  I closed my eyes and focused, imagining my magic sealing the portal shut.

  “It’s working,” Chessa said softly. Then she started to chant a string of words in Latin. I joined in, having no idea what she was saying. It seemed she’d developed an ear for it after her run-in with the demon.

  The more the light faded, the faster her words came. I struggled to keep up and to control my magic at the same time. It kept slipping from my psychic hold. Before long, I was sweating with the effort. My hold on the magic slipped. The light brightened and the demon magic rushed back at me, fighting with the power I was forcing into the portal. Pain rippled through me from the tug-of-war in my gut that threatened to rip me apart. Desperately, I reeled my magic in, unwilling to let the spell destroy me.

  Then something snapped.

  “No!” I cried as an invisible force slammed into me. My concentration fled, and I fell to my knees, clutching my stomach.

  “Mati!” Chessa crie
d and kneeled beside me. “What happened?”

  “It ah…” I sucked in a breath and forced out, “I think it fought back.”

  Her head snapped up as the portal flashed brilliant white and a shadow formed behind the barrier. “Son of a demon’s whore,” she cried as she jumped to her feet and glanced at me. “Stay back.”

  I scrambled to my knees and crawled away from the portal. There was only one thing behind that door. A demon. And it was coming for me.

  Chapter 6

  Vaughn

  After Matisse left, I lay in my bed, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume, unable to find sleep. I could still feel the imprint of her body next to mine, and the sensation left me restless. The loss was wholly unfamiliar and very unwelcome.

  When the clock ticked over to six a.m., I finally gave up and rolled out of bed. Thirty minutes later, I was showered, dressed in fresh jeans and a Henley shirt, and on my way to the garage. No one else would be there, but that was part of the appeal. Tinkering with the bikes would push the sexy witch from my mind. Damn. I hoped so anyway, because otherwise I’d be compelled to put a trace on her, and if that wasn’t crossing the line into creepy stalker, I didn’t know what was.

  I parked my Indian in the shop’s lot and walked the four blocks to the neighborhood coffee shop. The moment I stepped through the door, I swallowed a groan. That chick, what’s her name? Norma? Norah? I wasn’t sure, but she was standing behind the counter and when she saw me, a huge grin broke out on her makeup-caked face. From across the room, she appeared almost decent, but up close it was impossible to not notice the chipped tooth she hadn’t ever gotten fixed and the too-tight clothes that showed every last flaw of her figure. What did she do, shop in the toddler section? I was so not in the mood for her today.

  “Vaughn. Hey, gorgeous.” She flashed me what she obviously thought was her flirty smile, but it came off as more of a sneer. “You’re in early today. No action last night?”

  I gave her a tight smile. “Lots of work to get done today. Large double espresso latte, please, and a coffee cake.” I tossed a few bills on the counter and said, “Stash the rest in the tip jar.”

  “You’re simply the sweetest,” she gushed. “I bet you—”

  Rudely, I turned my back to her and retreated into the lobby of the coffee shop. If I was forced to make conversation, this would turn ugly in two seconds flat. Today wasn’t the day for that shit.

  Norah huffed something that sounded like, “Rude-ass jerk,” under her breath as she went to work on my giant cup of caffeine. When she was done, she called my name and cast me a dirty look. After placing my items on the counter, she stood there staring me down as I picked them up.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She scowled. Customer service be damned, I guess. “You know, if you’re going to bring that attitude in here day in and day out, you can damn well find somewhere else to go for your morning coffee. Got it?”

  Her outburst stopped me in my tracks. She’d never been anything short of bubbly and inviting before. This was a completely new side to Norah—that’s what it said on her nametag. And it amused me.

  “Did you hear me?” she barked.

  I laughed and put another dollar in the tip jar. “Yep, loud and clear, boss.” I raised the coffee and saluted her. “I’ll adjust the attitude if you will.”

  “What? I’m always nice.”

  I nodded. “Yes. But maybe too nice. It is seven in the goddamned morning. Most of us are barely functional at this hour. If you could dial it back a few notches on the flirty scale, we’d get along much better.”

  “What’s wrong, Vaughn?” she said dryly. “Too many women and not enough sleep?”

  She was half right. “Just busy and not looking for anything other than my morning coffee, if you know what I mean.”

  Disappointment lined her face, but she smiled anyway. “Got it. Now apologize so we can be friends again.”

  “I think you got all the apology you need.” I nodded to her tip jar and smiled as I walked out the front door.

  ***

  I had a bike motor almost completely torn apart when the call came in. It was Mitch, my witch stepbrother. Holding the phone with my shoulder, I grabbed a rag and fruitlessly tried to scrape the grease off my fingers. “What do you need?”

  “We’ve got a rogue witch we need you to track down. He or she appears to be summoning demons. Can you handle it?”

  “I can track the witch, but don’t expect me to bring him or her in. Not if they’re knee-deep in demons.”

  “Sure, sure,” Mitch said. “Just an ID. We’ll do the rest.”

  “Okay, but I need about half an hour,” I said, eyeing my torn and grease-smeared jeans.

  “The witch appears to be wielding the spells now, so the sooner the better. I’ll fax the information we have.”

  “Got it.”

  Mitch worked for the Witches’ Council, and his job was to bring in witches that were on their radar for some reason or other. But he had to locate them first, and that was where I came in. I’m a tracker, a bounty hunter, for the supernatural crowd. I didn’t have any real powers per se, only that I could sense magic when I was near someone wielding it. I was also really good at not being seen when I didn’t want to be. That’s what made me good at tracking. I could watch without being suspicious.

  On my way out, I stopped by the boss’s office. “Yo, Rick. I’m taking off for a few hours. I should have that bike done by tomorrow.”

  He waved me off without even looking up. He was relaxed in the extreme. It was one of the reasons I enjoyed working for him. As long as I got the job done, he didn’t give a shit how much I worked or didn’t work. In fact, the fewer hours I put in, the better, at least as far as his wallet was concerned.

  My bike roared to life, and I took off for my apartment, where the recent memory of Matisse refused to disappear. The moment I walked in, I felt her presence with me again. “Son of a bitch,” I muttered as I headed to the shower. “Get a grip, Paxton.”

  Ten minutes later, fresh from the shower and once again in clean clothes, I strode to the back of my apartment to my small makeshift office. The fax was waiting for me. The sheet was blank except for GPS coordinates. It would be the last known location, and that was all I was going to get.

  Time to go. I bypassed my Indian and rounded the corner to my nondescript black SUV. After firing up the GPS, I took off. The mark was likely a young witch messing around with demon spells. It wasn’t uncommon for teens to start dealing in darker magic. It was sort of like a drug for them. Forbidden and exciting. But it wasn’t until my navigation system pointed me to the Coven Pointe neighborhood that I started to get a bad feeling.

  The coven that lived there kept to themselves and rarely mixed with the rest of the witches of New Orleans. Not that I dealt with many of the other witches much. I’d met Beatrice Kelton a few times, the New Orleans coven leader. She ran a magic shop that sold some potions and healing herbs that even mundane people could use. If they knew what they were doing, that is. But I’d never had a reason to track one of her witches. That coven took care of their own.

  The ones I was sent after were usually loners or ones who were just passing through. If this was a job dealing with the Coven Pointe witches, things could go south fast.

  I drove down Opelousas and turned right on Sequin, heading for the levee. The location Mitch had sent over put the witch right on the edge of the Mississippi River. That was going to make fading into the background somewhat difficult. I’d just have to make do.

  After parking my car on a side street, I shrugged into a dark jacket, pulled on a knitted cap, and grabbed my professional digital camera. It was used to take close-ups of my targets, but if anyone was paying attention to me, they’d likely assume I was a professional photographer. In New Orleans, photographers were a dime a dozen.

  Damn it was cold. Up on the bike path that overlooked the Mississippi, the wind blew right through my jeans, nearly freezing my b
alls off. And to make matters worse, the entire waterfront was deserted. Not a single person populated the banks of the river. Shit. Had I misread the coordinates? I pulled the paper out of my back pocket and checked again. Nope. I must have missed the witch.

  To make sure, I spent the next few minutes shooting pictures of the waterfront and then scanned the area once more. Nothing. Time to walk the streets. I tucked my camera into its pack and took off toward the neighborhood, but a tingle of magic caught my attention. It was coming from somewhere near the river.

  Squinting, I moved to the edge of the ridge. There was no one. But damn, if that magic wasn’t there. Then a flash of light that had me shielding my eyes came out of thin air. On impulse, I pulled the camera back out and set it on rapid fire. Whatever was going on, I needed to capture it.

  Chapter 7

  Matisse

  Chessa pushed me behind her as the shadow morphed into solid form. “Go back to our world,” she ordered.

  “You want me to leave you here?” I asked, incredulity filling my tone. “Are you nuts?”

  “Mati, you have—”

  The demon charged out of the portal, his face contorted in rage. His red-tinted eyes narrowed at Chessa before he dismissed her and lunged, grabbing for me.

  I jumped back, calling my magic to my fingertips. Sparks erupted, creating tiny lightning bolts of energy that fed into the ground.

  “No!” Chessa’s voice boomed in the darkness as she hurled an impressive fireball at the demon. But he only opened his mouth and caught it, swallowing it whole.

  “Holy shit.” Adrenaline fueled my magic, making the electricity come in stronger bursts. An electric barrier of pure energy formed around me, shielding me. And when the demon lashed out, connecting with the current, he yanked his gnarled hand back and screamed in obvious pain.

  Chessa backed off, keeping a close eye on the demon, but I could see brilliant white power building around her in a fog.