by Deanna Chase
Just before Bo reached the waitress, Emerson called out, “And while you’re over there, man up and ask her out. I’m tired of finding nudie magazines in my effing bathroom. Maybe she’ll take pity on you and you’ll finally get some action.”
The crowd roared with laughter while Bo’s face first went ghostly white, then quickly turned crimson. He stood there, his head bowed as he balled his hands into fists and every muscle seemed to tense. Then he blew out a long breath, deliberately squared his shoulders, and started moving toward the bar again as if his guardian hadn’t just stripped his dignity away in front of practically the entire town.
My chest tightened with anger for the young man. I’d bet my café that wasn’t the first time Bo’d been humiliated by Emerson Charles. The bastard. Was the taunting some sort of rite of passage? An initiation into the motorcycle club? Was Bo expected to take whatever they dished out to earn his spot? Or was it worse? Did he have to endure that garbage just to ensure he kept a roof over his head? Either way, no one deserved to suffer such needless humiliation. I bit the side of my cheek to keep from berating the big man right then and there.
A couple of seconds after Bo reached the waitress’s side, she turned and called, “Gumbo and beer coming right up, boys!”
She smiled kindly at Bo, slipped her arm around his waist and spoke to him softly. Then she nodded before reaching up to kiss him on the cheek.
Wolf whistles and catcalls erupted from the bikers’ table. Bo bent his head to whisper something to the pretty waitress, then retreated back to his group. There were high fives and pats on the back.
“Hit it till she screams your name, little bro,” one of the bikers called.
A few others followed up with rutting noises, and one stood and pumped his hips while flicking his tongue at the waitress.
“That’s enough,” Bo snapped as he shoved the hip thruster, knocking him off-balance. “Say whatever the hell you want to me, but don’t disrespect Trina. She’s not a piece of meat.”
I wanted to pump my fist in the air. Who said chivalry was dead? This kid had heart and plenty of backbone when he was pushed. I hoped that meant he wouldn’t put up with their BS for too long.
“The hell she isn’t,” a lanky ginger said with a snicker.
Bo stopped short and spun around, getting right in the ginger’s face. He grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him up out of his chair. “Don’t ever—”
A bolt of magic came out of nowhere, hitting Bo directly in the back. He instantly let go of the ginger, seized, then fell to the floor.
Holy hell! I ran to Bo’s side, feeling for a pulse. The slow, steady rhythm beat under my fingertips and I looked up, meeting the narrowed eyes of Emerson Charles. “You did this.” It wasn’t a question. Everyone in the room was staring at him, waiting for him to make another move.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice full of disdain.
“Someone who’s not going to stand by and let a jackass torture this poor kid.” Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Julius hovering nearby. Small sparks of magic glowed in his right hand.
“Did you just call me a jackass?” Emerson asked, his tone more irritated than anything else.
“Yes. There was no reason to attack—”
“Stop,” Bo growled and scrambled to his feet. He glanced down at me. “I don’t need anyone to defend me.”
“But—”
“You heard the boy,” Emerson said. “Your help isn’t welcome here.”
I glanced at Bo. “Are you all right? That looked like one heck of a jolt.”
“I’m fine,” he said, then muttered, “Go. You’re making it worse.” He then strode back to his seat as if nothing had happened.
Frustrated, I glanced at Julius. His magic had vanished, and he waved for me to join him. My boots hitting the wood floor echoed through the nearly silent restaurant. Apparently I’d helped provide the entertainment for the evening. So much for finding a swamp tour guide. We were halfway back to our table, all eyes still on us.
“Why didn’t you do anything?” I asked Julius quietly, so frustrated I was shaking.
“Now?” he asked, glancing down at me. “Bo doesn’t need or want that.”
“But Emerson attacked him with magic. Can’t you call the council or something?”
“I will. After we leave.”
It was hard to imagine how Emerson had become the boy’s guardian. What social worker in their right mind would place a teen with the gruff, insensitive a-hole? Add in the fact that Emerson was a witch who didn’t mind using his powers to discipline, and that meant a recipe for abuse. But I had to admit that Julius had a point; Bo certainly didn’t look like he’d appreciate any more of my help. There was nothing to do but head back to the table.
When we were halfway across the room, Emerson called out, “Keep your woman in check, or we’ll be forced to do it for you.”
I stopped dead in my tracks and spun. “Did you just threaten me?”
That’s the way I heard it, Ida May said, popping into existence beside me.
I cut my gaze to her for a moment, but I was no longer surprised by her sudden appearances. In fact, they were almost a comfort.
Want me to kick him in the balls?
I nearly snorted out a laugh but stopped short when Emerson spoke again. “Got a problem with that, Ms. Rayne?”
My humor fled. How did he know my name? No doubt the surprise showed on my face.
That does it. Ida May flew over to his table, and even though no one could see her, at least half the bikers at the table turned their heads as if they could feel something was going to happen. And Ida May didn’t disappoint. Just as Emerson was about to take a sip of his beer, a knowing smile claimed his lips. But before he could down the amber liquid, Ida May struck out and managed to dislodge his beer from his hand, upending the mug. Liquid flew everywhere—on his face, his shirt, his lap—and then the mug clattered to the floor, managing to somehow not break.
I cleared my throat, holding back my now humorless chuckle. “Don’t mess with me, Mr. Charles. You won’t like the outcome.”
Julius draped an arm over my shoulders. “That’s my girl,” he said under his breath.
“You did this? What are you, a witch or something?” Emerson sputtered, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
“Not exactly.”
He slammed his fist down on the table. “What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
I shrugged. “I’m a medium.”
“You see the dead?” His eyes narrowed, and he glared as if he didn’t believe me. Then he started to rise. “Your kind isn’t welcome around here.”
“Why’s that, Emerson? Too afraid your secrets will come out?” The last words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. It had been a stupid thing to say, because if he did have something to hide, I’d just borrowed a crap ton of trouble.
“I think it’s time we showed you and your boyfriend the door.” He started to rise, but before he could lumber out of his chair, Bo put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t bother,” he said to the older man. “I’ll escort them out.”
“Make sure she understands who she’s dealing with,” Emerson ordered, his lips twisted into a humorless smile.
My ire rose and if I’d had the power, I would’ve loved to spell him into a gerbil. I suppressed a mocking laugh. The thought of him trapped in cage, running continuously on a wheel, was intensely satisfying. I did have those pre-spelled voodoo dolls back at the inn just waiting curse his junk. Something to look forward to.
Bo strode up to us, his gait a little awkward, and once again I was hit with a powerful burst of déjà vu. He reminded me of someone, but I just couldn’t place who. “You’d better go before he loses his patience.”
“Before he loses it?” I asked, incredulous. “He’s a bully.”
Bo said nothing, just waved his hand toward the front door.
“But we haven’t eaten yet,” I said, glancing back at our abandoned ta
ble. Miss Kitty still hadn’t returned.
“I’ll have Trina package it in to-go boxes. It’s better if you leave.”
“But—”
“Miss Rayne, it’s better for all of us if you go.”
That shut me up. The last thing I wanted to do was make the situation worse for Bo.
“Come on.” Julius grabbed my hand, and together we followed the teenager outside.
“Listen,” the teen said, kicking at the gravel. “I’m sorry about him.” He glanced up, staring me in the eye, his expression hard and focused. “It’s not right the way he treated you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m more concerned about the way he treats you. It’s abuse. If you—”
He held his hand up and pressed his lips into a straight line. “If you think that’s abuse, then it’s obvious you’ve never spent time in a foster home.”
While I knew his words rang clear with the truth, my heart nearly broke in two for the young boy who was already hardened to the harsh realities of our world. It made me want to wrap him in my arms and then tuck him safely into the spare bedroom back at my apartment.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Bo snapped. “I’m not a pity case. Emerson Charles is my guardian. He’s an ass, but that’s just his way. He thinks he’s turning me into a man. It’s fine. I’m fine. So just stay out of it, all right?”
“You’re sure about that?” Julius asked, eyeing him. “We have resources. Connections to the Witches’ Council. I’m sure with a little time we could figure out a better situation for you.”
Bo scoffed. “I come from a magical family. No one is going to place me with mundane foster parents. And so far, every witch I’ve ever met has been crazy. Emerson’s no exception. But at least I understand him. No, I’d rather stay put. Only a few more months until graduation, then I’ll be free to find my own place.”
“Doesn’t look like he’s going to let you leave the motorcycle club too easily,” I said.
“Who said I wanted to leave?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. Then, before I could argue further, he added, “I’ll go get your dinner.”
Julius handed him a wad of cash. “Tell Trina to keep the change.”
Bo nodded and disappeared back inside.
I stared up at Julius, frustrated. First we had virtually no clues about Mia, and now we’d been asked to ignore Emerson Charles’s abusive behavior toward Bo.
“We can’t save everyone,” Julius said softly, pulling me into his arms.
“I know,” I said into his shoulder. “But this one… I don’t know if I can let it go. There’s something about that kid that makes me want to tuck him under my wing.”
“He reminds you of yourself at that age.”
I stepped back and glanced up at him. “What do you mean? I still lived with my mom. She was my best friend.”
He brought his hand up and gently caressed my cheek. “I know, love. But from what little you’ve told me, because your mom worked all the time, you were largely on your own with not a lot of financial support. You were taking care of yourself and, I imagine, to some extent your mother too.”
The softness in his tone and the understanding yet lack of pity, as if he knew all too well what it meant to have the weight of the world on your shoulders at too young an age, touched me deeply. He’d walked in my shoes, and Bo’s, even if his journey had started a century ago. “You’re right. I did. And I see how hard it is for him and how much harder it’s likely going to get if he doesn’t find his way out of that situation.”
Julius’s hand slipped down my arm until our fingers met and entwined. “The only thing we can do is open doors for him. I’ll still contact the council and see what they say. But if he continues to refuse help, you know there’s nothing we can do.”
I nodded, hating that line of thought. Seventeen-year-old kids learned how to survive. But they often had no idea how to change their circumstances even when opportunities were laid at their feet. The familiar was far more preferable to the unknown.
The door swung open and Bo strode out, carrying a white paper bag. “Here. She added a piece of cake for the generous tip.”
“Thanks, man. Let her know we appreciate it,” Julius said, taking the bag.
“Will do.”
He turned to leave, but I said, “Hey, Bo. Do you ever do private tours of the bayou?”
He turned around and gave me a skeptical look. “You didn’t get enough this morning?”
“Oh sure. Of course. Nothing can beat Buffy the gator and her shenanigans. No. We’re looking for a vacation camp, and I was wondering if we could hire you to show us around some of the places only accessible by boat. Like tomorrow maybe? The sooner the better.”
He tilted his head as if contemplating my suggestion. Then he said, “A hundred dollars. Cash.”
I held out my hand to shake his. “What time?”
He glanced down, then clasped his strong hand over mine. “One p.m. Meet me at the docks.”
“We’ll be there.”
Bo disappeared back into the restaurant, and I glanced around the parking lot once more for Miss Kitty.
“That’s her,” Julius said, pointing to a monster-style truck. The woman’s silver hair was visible against the dark paint.
“Is that hers?” I asked Julius as we crossed the lot.
He laughed. “I really hope so.”
When we got closer, I noted the driver’s side door was open and Miss Kitty’s oversized shoulder bag sat in the front seat. She was busy pacing back and forth, an excited spring in her step.
“I’ll be there,” she said into the phone. “Anything special you want me to wear? I hear bright colors are better for TV.”
I cleared my throat.
She spun and grinned at us. “Hold on,” she said into the phone, then pulled it away from her face as she said, “They’re interviewing me tomorrow. I have to be up in New Orleans by nine. Did you find someone with a boat to show you around?”
I nodded. “Tomorrow at one. Bo is taking us. I don’t suppose you’ll be back by then, will you?” That wasn’t a problem for us since we really didn’t care about the camps. All we wanted was an excuse to be out on the bayou and hopefully get a glimpse of Bayou Charles.
She shook her head. “No. It’s an all-day thing. Then we’re coming back here to tape a segment. It’s all so exciting. If you want to be part of it, book another morning tour two days from now. They’re going to do a reading at the Twin Forks camp.”
Excellent, Ida May said from behind me. I know what I’ll be doing that morning.
“But don’t worry. All the camps are usually unlocked anyway. No one is stupid enough to go poking around unannounced.”
“No one except us,” I quipped, giving her an ironic smile.
“Eh, don’t worry about. As long as you have Bo with you, no one will bother you. His status with Emerson makes him virtually untouchable.” She nodded to the folder still in Julius’s hand. “Take a look at whatever you like and let me know if you find a match.”
And with that she went back to her phone conversation, asking about a professional makeup artist who knew how to deal with wrinkles.
“Ready to head back to the inn?” Julius asked me.
I nodded, my limbs suddenly exhausted.
Not me, Ida May chimed in. I have a few bikers to harass. She took off but then called over her shoulder, Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” I called back with a wave. Hers was a very short list.
10
I sat on the bed, sipping a mocha and nibbling on a chocolate croissant. Not a breakfast of champions, but I was on vacation. And chocolate. Enough said.
Julius walked back into our room, his phone in hand, and frowned. “Not what I wanted to hear.”
I raised both eyebrows, waiting. He’d gone outside to contact his superior at the Witches’ Council. We were looking for any background information they had on Emerson Charles but wanted to make
sure the conversation was private considering that according to Moxie, Hale currently did work for Emerson.
He sighed and sat on the bed next to me. In a hushed tone, he said, “Emerson has restricted status. According to the database, he was caught using a spell to compel someone and is currently on probation. Any use of magic violates his probationary conditions, and now they want me to bring him in.”
“You’re kidding,” I said, putting the croissant down. “Are they sending backup?”
He shook his head. “They want him for questioning only at this time. They said he’s been cooperative in the past, so they have no reason to believe he’ll resist now.”
Crap on toast. Nothing about the biker we’d met the night before said ‘cooperative.’ I was willing to bet the moment Julius flashed his credentials, Emerson Charles would go into fight-or-flight mode. “We should call Jade.”
Jade Calhoun was the New Orleans coven leader, a white witch, and married to my best friend. And while she wasn’t involved in any council business, she was the most powerful witch we knew and loyal to a fault. If we called, she’d be here. No questions asked.
“That’s a good idea.” Julius snagged the discarded bakery bag and pulled out another chocolate-stuffed pastry. “You call. I’m going to eat and finally suck down my coffee.” He nodded to his abandoned paper cup sitting on the nightstand, then leaned against the headboard and bit into the croissant. His eyes closed as he savored his breakfast. “If Bettie’s Beignets isn’t heaven, I don’t know what is.”
“It’s close enough,” I agreed and grabbed my mocha on the way out. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, a jingling sound came from behind me, followed by a high-pitched bark. I turned around and grinned. “Well hello there, Miss Stella. How are you today?”
The gold-and-white dog wagged her tail and jumped up on my leg, desperate for attention.
“Good, I see. Come here.” I reached down and scooped the little dog up and then peered around for Moxie. She was nowhere to be found. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid,” I told the dog. “Wanna come with me?”
