by Deanna Chase
I stared at the ghost, my mouth hanging open. Holy hell. My heart started to pound against my rib cage. Could it be true? Mia Trebelle was alive? “Where is she?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I was tracking her abductor when the police cut my investigation short.”
“But—”
“Twenty-three Motte Lane. Find—” His existence flickered in and out and back again, his mouth moving the entire time as if he didn’t know it was happening, “—key—” Another fade out and back in. “—for answers.”
“What?” I asked, biting my lip, but this time he disappeared with a pop and I knew he was gone. “Damn. Turn around!” I yelled and tapped on Julius’s shoulder to get his attention.
Still sitting at the red light, he glanced back at me. “What?”
“Go back.” I waved behind us. “I have to talk to the swamp witch.”
He nodded once, and when the light finally changed, he turned around and whipped back into the parking lot. Once the roar of the motor died off, he asked, “Did you forget something?”
Shaking my head, I slipped off the bike. “Did you not see the ghost rider?”
He raised both eyebrows in surprise. “You saw a ghost back there?”
I nodded. “He wants me to investigate a missing girl. He gave me an address and told me to find a key.” After filling him in on Mia and what I could remember about Sterling’s death, I added, “He knew who I was and mentioned something about the swamp witch. I think she sent him to me, and I want to know what else she might know.”
“And why she isn’t helping find Mia?” he said, getting straight to the point.
“Right.”
“Let’s find out.” He slid off the bike and fell into step beside me.
It was then I took another good look at the Swamp Witch shop. What the…? I blinked, stunned by what I saw. The paint was no longer peeling, and the sign looked brand-new with a cute witch cartoon in the corner. “Holy cow. What happened to the weathered swamp shack? Did she just spell the place?”
He squinted, studying the building. “Looks like it. Though I think I liked it the other way. Much more authentic.”
I had to agree. We made our way back into the shop, but as soon as I stepped through the door, I stopped in my tracks. Instead of the dusty, overcrowded shelves, the place was spotless, with neat rows of cutesy witch dolls, prepackaged tarot cards, carved candles, and neatly packaged herbs. Everything looked like it had been ordered out of a specialty catalog and was in no way authentic to the bayou.
“Hello?” I called out.
A short, perky blonde bounced out of one of the aisles, a small stack of books in her hands. “Hello! Welcome to the Swamp Witch. Looking for something special?”
Julius and I shared a confused look. I cleared my throat. “Um, hi. We were here just a few minutes ago and Avrilla helped us. Is she here?”
“Avrilla?” Her smile faltered. “Sorry. I think there’s been some confusion. I’m the only one who works here. Are you sure it was my shop?”
“Pretty sure,” I muttered to myself and moved to the back of the store to peer out the window. The sun shone off the murky water, and as I stood there, a familiar gator crawled back up onto the dock. There was no doubt we were in the same place, only the store and the owner had changed. None of it made sense.
“Pyper?” Julius called.
I walked back over to him and the blond witch. She was perched on a stool behind the counter, watching me intently. I slipped my hand into Julius’s just to ground myself in something real, because the shop and the blonde were officially freaking me out. “Sorry. Our mistake,” I said and started to pull Julius toward the front door.
But as we moved away from the counter, I spotted a small container marked Alligator Claws. I paused, studying the gray plastic replicas.
“What is it?” Julius asked me.
“I don’t—” My vision blurred. Then the dusty, dirty shop came back into focus and the claws turned into the real thing.
Those are good for protection, a voice whispered from behind me.
I spun, and the commercialized store full of slick packaged items shifted back into place. Crap!
“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Bayou Barbie asked me.
I sighed, scooped up a handful of the plastic alligator claws, and dumped them on the counter. “I’ll take these.”
She took forever packaging them in cellophane, and by the time she finally ran my credit card, I was itching to get out of there. I felt like I was in the Disney version of a witch shop.
Once we were back outside, I blew out a breath. “That was…”
“Weird,” Julius finished for me.
I stood at the motorcycle, staring back at the cheery building.
“It’s not a spell,” Julius said, standing just behind me. “I would’ve been able to feel it.”
I turned my attention him. “No. Not a spell. At least not a normal one.”
“What does that mean?” he asked, eyeing me in confusion. I had been told I had a small amount of power recently, like a teeny tiny amount, but nothing that would result in my sensing a spell.
I took a deep breath. “I think Avrilla is a ghost.”
Windblown and more than a little unsettled, I strode into the Mayhem Bed and Breakfast, Julius behind me. The sound of my riding boots echoed over the glossy wooden floors as I made my way across the foyer to the grand staircase. I had my foot on the first step when a crash came from the formal living room.
“Hey are you—” Julius stopped mid-sentence, his eyes wide.
“What’s going on?” I slipped around him, then clasped my hand over my mouth to stop the uncontrollable giggling. Moxie Mayfair, the inn owner, was bent over, frantically tossing a collection of brightly colored dildos, fur-lined handcuffs, and various tubes of lubricants into a plastic storage bin. And if that wasn’t enough to kill anyone with embarrassment, the air-conditioning suddenly kicked on and the air from the nearby vent blew her short skirt up, flashing her ass cheeks, complete with a tattoo that said: Bite me!
“Oh my,” I said before I could stop myself.
She stood up so fast she dropped her bin, and her collection of sex toys spilled out onto the fancy area rug.
“Your Jack Rabbit rolled under the chair,” Julius said, his tone matter-of-fact.
I snorted and turned to him. “How do you know about those?”
He shrugged. “There are a lot of adult stores on Bourbon Street. I had a lot of time on my hands as a ghost.”
Moxie’s round face turned scarlet as she scrambled to collect her unmentionables. “Sorry. It’s date night and I was… uh, you know… getting ready.” She picked up a package of what I swear said Edible Intimates and shoved it behind her back.
“Maybe we should give her some privacy.” Julius slipped his hand into mine and started pulling me from the room.
“Wait!” Moxie threw her fruity panties in the box and ran over to me. “Didn’t you say you’re a body painter?”
“Yeah.” In addition to owning a café, I was also a body painter and sold photographs of my work at a local art shop.
She let out a relived sigh. “Great. Tonight is zombie night, and I’m going to need a little help with my costume.”
“Um, I’m not exactly a makeup artist,” I said, already backing away.
“Oh, I know. I want to do something special for Hale. And I think if I was painted to look like a zombie, he’d really go for that. You know, spice things up. His favorite show is The Walking Dead. A while ago, I ordered a starter kit for body painting, but I really have no artistic ability. And I thought…”
“You want me to paint you to look like a zombie so you can seduce your boyfriend?” I asked, my eyebrows raised.
She bit her lip and nodded, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. “That’s crossing a line, right? I shouldn’t have asked.” Moxie started to back away, shaking her head. “Forget I said anything.”
“Hell no, I won
’t forget,” I said, laughing. “I think that’s awesome. Of course I’ll do it.”
“You will?” Julius and Moxie asked at the same time.
“You bet your butt I will.” I grinned at her. “Anything to keep the excitement alive in the bedroom… or living room,” I added, nodding to the adult toy box.
She grinned, her face flushing again. “Thank you so much. I just know he’s going to love this.”
“Give me about twenty minutes to drop this stuff off and get changed.”
Julius followed me up the grand staircase and unlocked the door to our room for me. “What about Mia?” he asked.
I set the bag from the Swamp Witch on the floor and immediately made a beeline to the chest of drawers. “I plan to pump her for information while I get her zombified.”
“Walking Dead date night,” Julius said, shaking his head. “That’s a little…”
“Creepy?” I supplied.
“Disturbed.” His gaze swept over my body as I discarded my leather halter top.
My lips curved into a smile, and I walked over to him wearing only my black lace bra and low-slung jeans. Placing my hand on his chest, I fisted his T-shirt and tugged him down so our lips were inches apart. “You don’t want to role-play later?”
“Not if it involves you dressing up like a dead person.”
I gave him a look of mock disappointment. “But I wanted you when you were dead.”
His blue eyes flashed with a hint of mischief. “Correction. I’d prefer if our role-playing didn’t resemble rotting dead people. But if you want to play the hot medium from Bourbon Street while I spell you with my magic…” He glanced down at himself and then ran a finger over the swell of my breast. “I think we can work something out.”
I sucked in a small breath, ready to ditch Moxie and turn all my attention to Julius. He really did have a magic… ah… package. Only there was a woman being held against her will. And since Moxie had been born and raised in this town, she was sure to have details that would give me a good starting point. I took a step back before I let myself get lost in him. “Meet me for dinner in a couple of hours?”
He dropped my hand and nodded, not bothering to hide the mild disappointment in his eyes. “Bettie’s Beignets, say six?”
The modest café was a half block down from the B and B. They served everything from deep-fried catfish to rum-soaked bread pudding. I’d do just about anything for more of that bread pudding. “Yep, I’ll be there.”
“Good. In the meantime, I’ll do a little research of my own.” He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts.
“You’re calling the council?” I asked, eyeing him. Julius had been a ghost for almost a century. His circle of contacts wasn’t huge. Me, Jade, Kane, Bea, the New Orleans Coven, and the Witches’ Council.
“After meeting Avrilla, I think it’s wise.”
“Good point.” If we were dealing with any magical beings, it was best to be prepared. And after running into a ghost witch, anything was possible.
“I’m going to grab a coffee and enjoy some of this sunshine. See you later.” Julius pressed a kiss to my temple and then strode out the door.
I sighed, realizing I’d just sent him away while I was half-naked. So much for a romantic weekend getaway. We had a kidnapping to solve.
3
“Take it off,” I ordered, mixing a bit of black and white paint to turn it light gray.
Moxie stood in the middle of her bedroom, wrapped in a terrycloth bathrobe, biting her lower lip.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I soothed. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. Trust me. After I cover you with a base coat, you’ll feel covered anyway.”
“It’s not that.” Her face flushed. “Okay, normally it’s not that. No one would accuse me of being modest. It’s just…”
I put the brush down and gave her my full attention. “Just what?”
“Crap.” She shook her head, her dark curls bouncing at her shoulders. Then she closed her eyes and untied her robe.
“Um, Moxie, is that a permanent tattoo?” I asked, trying and failing to keep the giggle out of my voice. Just below her belly button she had a pair of red lips with a tongue pointed down toward her lady bits.
“Oh gods. No!” She jerked the robe closed, her face turning even brighter red.
“Whew.” I ran a hand over my forehead. “That’s a relief, because imagine what that would look like when you’re ninety.”
She gave a tiny shudder. “Hale drew it on me this morning. Said he wanted me to be thinking about what he was going to do to me later.”
“Wow. Hale appears to be a talented man.” I grinned.
“Oh, he’s very talented,” she gushed, then clamped her mouth shut as her face turned scarlet. “I meant he’s a talented tattoo artist.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Moxie, I think we’re going to be great friends. Now lose the robe so we can get you ready for zombie night.”
She stepped onto the old sheet we were using to protect her gorgeous wood floors, and then I got to work applying a base coat of color.
“So, besides Walking Dead night, what do y’all do for entertainment around here?” I asked, making conversation the way I always did with my models. Getting them talking about themselves was always a good way to loosen them up.
“Oh gosh. The inn keeps me busy most of the time.” She rattled on about knitting and felting classes, online book clubs, adult toy parties, and something called Jamberry. But I started to pay attention when she mentioned an upcoming bike rally. “This weekend they all start rolling in, showing off their custom bikes, and man, the tattoos. I just love a sexy man with tattoos, don’t you?”
“Sure. Who doesn’t?” I said and applied another dab of paint to her rib cage. “Do local motorcycle clubs participate, or is it mostly out-of-towners?”
“I’m sure the Twin Forks will be there. They always do some sort of fund-raising for the local library.”
“Twin Forks?” I eyed the work I’d done and longed for my airbrush. It didn’t look too bad, but if I’d had my regular supplies, she’d look like an extra ready for a walk-on role.
“They’re from Forks Bend, a couple of towns over. Two brothers started it about ten years ago. Of course, it’s just one brother now since Sterling went off the deep end.” Her expression went dark, and sadness creeped into her normally bright eyes.
Jackpot. I put my paintbrush down and gave her a sympathetic look. “I heard about that. Did you know Mia?”
Her eyes went misty, and a single tear rolled down her cheek, making tracks in her freshly applied makeup. “Sorry,” she said, dabbing at her face. “Mia and I grew up together. It’s been five years, and I still feel like she could walk in the door any minute.”
She would if I had anything to say about it. I grabbed Moxie’s hand and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open any wounds.”
She shook her head and forced a small smile. “You didn’t. It’s just one of those things, you know? You’re going about your day and then a memory or something pops up out of nowhere, causing you to blubber like an idiot.”
“Not an idiot. And I know exactly what you mean. I lost my mom about ten years ago. There are still times when I reach for my phone to call her or I think I see her from the corner of my eye.” Of course, I had seen her not too long ago, right after I’d acquired my medium abilities. That had been wonderful, but overwhelming. But she hadn’t shown herself since, and I still wondered why. “The pain lessens, but we never stop missing them.”
She sniffed and nodded. “It’s just harder because of the way it happened, I guess.”
“She just went missing one day?”
Moxie nodded. “Yes. She met Sterling for coffee at Bettie’s Beignets, and that was the last time anyone saw her.”
“That’s terrible.” I sat in the chair opposite her. “I heard he died in a police shoot-out.”
She nodded.
“Yes. They found him armed in the family camp out in the bayou. They thought he was holding her there, but when it was all over, she was nowhere to be found.”
I was at a loss for words and about to get up to somehow comfort Moxie, but she squared her shoulders as a fierce conviction lit her eyes.
Then she said, “And you know the worst part?”
I shook my head. The only information I had about the kidnapping was what I remembered from the news, which wasn’t much.
“Everyone thought he was the nicest guy. The kind who would give you the shirt off his back. He had a freakin’ key to the inn for goddess’ sake. We trusted him to watch over things when we were away. It’s the kind of thing that shakes you to your very core.” There was hatred in her eyes now. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d make it my life’s mission to make him pay.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to reveal that the culprit might not be Sterling, but I swallowed the urge, not wanting to say anything I couldn’t prove. Instead, I picked up the tiny scraps of white fabric she’d laid on her bed and handed them to her. “I’m sorry about your friend. I can’t even imagine.”
She took the tiny skirt and strapless top and proceeded to put them on. “No one can.”
I could though. I’d seen more in the past few years than most had: black-magic users, demons, evil witches, and murders. None of it was pretty. And if there was anything I could do to help Mia Trebelle get home, I’d do it. “Can you tell me about her? What did she do for a living?”
Moxie’s eyes narrowed, and her easy tone vanished. “What do you mean? What does it matter what she did for a living? Because I’ve had enough of people blaming her for the kidnapping. Just because she used to dance doesn’t—”
“Gods no! I’m not blaming anyone.” I held a hand up. “Not at all. I just thought you’d like to talk about your friend. You know, share your memories of her instead of what happened.” Ultimately, even though I did want information about Mia and was now intensely curious what kind of dancing she’d done, what I really wanted at that moment was to see the spark of joy in Moxie’s eyes again. Here she was, all zombified for a date night, and my questions had made her upset.
