The shop was as mutedly lit as the pub, with only a few blue and purple tinted can lights installed in the ceiling. The fire glow effect must have been reserved for the evening when it might have been more alluring to pedestrians who were curious about the world of magic and voodoo. The light shined down upon cluttered shelves and display cases littered with voodoo tourist merchandise that had no magical value or meaning to them.
All around, Logan saw painted skulls, sewn voodoo dolls with needles, idols for other non-Christian religions from all over the world, strings of beads and feathers, shaman masks, and colorful t-shirts with words like “I love voodoo” and other iconic symbols of New Orleans. Somehow, he had imagined the place to be a little more authentic. He pictured rows upon rows of potion bottles and bags of rat bones. This was tame, and it made Logan skeptical whether Marie or even Madame Celeste were the genuine articles.
Marie stepped through an open doorway at the back of the shop and smiled graciously to her visitor. “I knew you would return,” she hailed and offered out her hands to him in friendship.
Logan shied from her touch, knowing well what happened the last time their skin came into contact. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have much time.”
She nodded. “Of course,” she replied in her exotic accent. “I’m sure you want to get back with your friend. Come.” With long, elegant fingers, she beckoned him toward the back room from which she had come. The aroma of herbs, spices, and incense was coming from the back storeroom where Marie had disappeared into.
The man in the top hat left them and returned to his post outside the doors without another word.
Logan gritted his teeth and walked forward with long strides, ready to get it over with.
The backroom was just as dark as the front shop area, but what it contained was the voodoo assortment he was expecting. In the middle of the room was a long table full of knives, mortar and pestles, tiny pots for stirring together ingredients, and leafy herbs scattered over the surface. Along each wall were rows upon rows of bottles containing all manner of liquids and powders. Some spots were dedicated to satchels of unknown contents and dangling talismans of stones and beads.
Logan’s nose was assaulted by the odors, but he swallowed back the bile and slowly followed Marie. She hummed a pleasant-sounding tune - probably of Creole origin - as she scoured through her stash. Her fingertips dragged along the labels as she went, reading them silently to herself to find just the right thing.
She pulled one powder off the wall, then another, and a satchel of something that smelled like mint and earth, and finally an empty vial with a cork stopper lodged in the top.
Marie brought the ingredients to the table and combined them with the deftness of someone who had made the potion a million times.
“How did she do last night?” Marie asked as casually as if she and Logan were close friends.
He squinted at the voodoo apprentice. “Did you make her change?”
“Oh, no, dear,” she replied with a smile. “But I could sense it in her yesterday. I knew it was coming. I’m surprised she hadn’t told you. She had been struggling with the pain almost all day.”
Logan looked away. He remembered how Katey had nearly ripped his shirt in her tight grip while they drove toward New Orleans. Was that her cry for help, and he didn’t listen? When they almost made love in the hotel room, he knew there was something off, but he was too exhausted and blinded by lust to realize what was going on.
Then there was the way she excused herself from the parlor, complaining that she was only tired. Logan couldn’t believe he had been so ignorant the entire day. If he had known, if she had just told him what she felt, then perhaps they could have been more prepared for her change.
He rammed back the guilt. There was nothing he could do about it now. The deed was done, and now he would redeem himself for a lifetime of carelessness.
Marie poured the contents of her mixing bowl into the vial and wiped clean the opening before resealing it with the cork. “It’s a little primitive, but my mistress is very traditional,” she said as she presented Logan with the potion. “Drink this when you are ready to call on your wolf. It will give you strength.”
Logan snatched it from her hands and felt the essence of magic bleed through the glass for only a few seconds before it died away. He made the dark red liquid swirl within the vial, watching how the tiny sediments of powder and crumbled leaves floated inside.
It was hard to believe that within his hand was the answer to every problem in his life. This little dose of potion would cure him and his wolf, possibly breaking down the wall that had been thickening over the decades. Finally, he would be able to change at will, and he could give Katey the mate she deserved, one that would be there for every monthly change. Now, there was nothing stopping them from performing the mating ceremony as soon as this hunter business was taken care of.
“A word of caution,” Marie held up her finger. “Some don’t take well to what the change brings out. If you can’t get control of your wolf, then there will be little to stop it from consuming you. I advise you to take this in the company of your own kind so they can help you.”
Logan looked at the woman’s kind face and nodded. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“And don’t worry about your friends smelling the potion. You’ll find it has no odor.” She grinned with pride. “I’ve had many wolves come to the shop looking for help in this matter, who are too afraid to ask for help among their own kind.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Logan defended.
“No,” she said after a half a moment of thought. “But you do hate the situation you’re in. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to better yourself. Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
“My mate is a good enough reason,” Logan replied, a note of firmness in his words. “Thank you for your help.”
Marie’s pearly teeth gleamed in the light. “It’s my pleasure. Peace be with you.”
Logan turned and exited the shop as quickly as his legs could carry him. After making sure the stopper was on tight, he slipped the vial into his jean pocket and entered the pub again to meet up with Dustin.
He had to push aside the strangled nerve that told him what he just committed was wrong. It was for Katey. How could it possibly be wrong?
When he opened the door, he found the place romping with activity. Tourists were huddled against the walls with their beers while loups-garous were brawling in the center. Tables were toppled over, barstools busted into splinters on the floor that was slick with spilled liquor.
In the center of it all was Dustin, fists swinging with a big, stupid grin on his lips. Carney was at the bar counter, laughing himself breathless.
Logan called out Dustin’s name to get his attention. After knocking out his current opponent wearing a Steelers jersey, he approached Logan. The brawlers carried on without him.
“I only left you alone for a few minutes,” Logan complained.
Dustin spat out a bit of blood onto the floor, probably from the already mending cut on his lip. “Ack, quit yer olagonin’. I was only having a gas with some wanker when he said the Irish were nothin’ but a load of feckin’ langered gobshites and aren’t good for nothin’ but brewing Guinness for Americans. I couldn’t let that maggot wag his pie hole like that in a place like this.”
Logan gave him a perturbed look and watched as another loup-garou grabbed Dustin by the shoulders and threw him back into the fray. Running a hand over his face, Logan groaned and took a seat by the wall to wait for the brawlers to wear themselves out, which might take a while.
Gregory watched Katey devour the plate of meats with intense interest. In the time she ate, they didn’t speak. There was no need to.
Erik was completely correct when he said the girl was a prize worth fighting for. Of course, Erik had entirely different intentions for Katey that Gregory would never approve of.
Erik had brought home one girl af
ter another, wooing her with the silver tongue he had inherited from his fellow pack mates. Bad influences, all of them. When Erik would finally try to take the girls for himself, when he tried to show them what he really was, they ran from town or would go insane from the shock. Gregory covered up the disappearances the best that he could, but Erik had been completely out of control.
That is until he met Katey. There was a change in his son he couldn’t account for otherwise. He was focused, driven, and knew exactly what he wanted. It was only too bad a wolf like Logan got to Katey first. Then again, Katey seemed better off for it, despite the fact she was to be mated with a defective werewolf.
No, Gregory had no interest in Katey as a mate. She was worth far more than a pretty face to him. It was plain as soon as he laid eyes on her the night before that something was different. This wasn’t the same girl in Canada that had stepped in front of a bullet for her mate and ended a millennia-old feud. Katey was a woman now, not a girl to be disregarded.
He had never seen a wolf fight as valiantly and passionately as she did last night. Without hardly breaking a sweat or stopping for a moment to lick her wounds, Katey defeated countless werewolves and vamps in her rampage. She even threw off two alphas. Although defeating an alpha in such a state didn’t proclaim her dominance over them, it certainly made an impression. It was a good thing none of his wolves were there to see his failure.
Beside her fierce tenacity, there was another side to Katey that would serve him for a better purpose.
There was a certain kind of aura that she put out. Before Katey and the others had arrived, Gregory thought he would be driven insane by the stress of being the only werewolf for miles around, surrounded by vampires. He thought the presence of other werewolves would set him at ease, but when he saw Logan and Forrest, mere children in comparison with himself, he felt no relief.
It was only when he and Katey approached one another that he was hit by a violent torrent of peace and tranquility that nearly knocked him off his feet. He was sure no one else felt it, but Gregory did, and that was proof enough for him.
Katey, a female werewolf, would have made a great addition to his pack. Perhaps if she came and spoke to his wolves, they would be convinced to set aside their aggressive, man-eating ways. Up until now, they had ignored his orders, knowing that under the rough exterior he would never kill them for their disobedience. To kill another of one’s own kind, no matter the reason, seemed almost sacrilegious. It was a sin that Gregory had no intention of committing.
With Katey, there was hope for his pack, hope for all wolves who had acquired a taste for human flesh. If only she weren’t already in a pack. If only she weren’t under Darren’s watchful eye, then Gregory would be tempted to steal her away.
Gregory was knocked from his thoughts when Katey lifted her head, and wide eyes fixed on the door. He turned his ear and heard a truck rattle down the long, winding path toward the mansion. Katey was on her feet and charged for the door, leaving the meats behind on her bed.
Gregory intercepted Katey just before she could reach for the handle and he looked down at her with stern eyes.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
Katey shied away, the fear of him rolling off her like heavy mist over a hill. It was clear she still hadn’t been able to set aside what happened between them the night before. “Logan and Dustin are back,” she replied, her voice incongruous with her timidity.
Gregory listened for a moment. Nearly everyone was awake now. Darren, Ben, Will, Teddy and his motley bunch, Forrest, and his mate. Most of them were outside, congregating along the porch like napping coonhounds, or in the dining hall stuffing their faces with the food Michael had set out for them.
A metal truck door slammed, but the two wolves took their time in making their way up the porch steps to the front door. Katey ducked under Gregory’s arm and slipped out of the room before he could even realize she had moved. Evidently, she was feeling much better. He marveled at her again. Fresh wolves in his pack normally took days to recover from their first change.
Gregory walked out the door and into the corridor. Ahead, he could see Katey slowing to a near stop in front of the grand stairs. He came to the second-floor landing where he could look out and see the group that had gathered in the center of the spacious foyer. Teddy, Uriah, and Will were also present to greet Logan and Dustin as they walked through the doors.
None of them had looked up to notice Katey standing at the top of the stairs with a petrified look on her face. Almost everyone below had felt her wrath the night before. For such a strong woman, she shouldn’t have been afraid of them now.
“Go on,” he whispered, giving her a slight nudge against the small of her back.
Katey took a step, then glanced at Gregory one last time before descending the stairs with precise movements as if she thought she might trip if she wasn’t careful enough.
He leaned his elbows against the masterfully carved railing and played the part of a silent observer.
“Why do you smell like beer?” Ben questioned, sounding like an irate wife who had stayed up late waiting for her husband to come home.
“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Dustin’s said, pinching his sopping shirt. Gregory could see his clothes were torn in a few spots and beer had stained the front of his shirt. “I was sittin’ for a spell in my friend’s pub and – “
“Pub?” Darren’s harsh words cut in. “I told you to stay out of trouble.”
“We just went down to the French Quarter for a little while,” Logan added softly, his eyes fixed on the approaching Katey as if he were making his excuses to her and not to his alpha. “Nothing happened.”
“I can’t believe you went to the French Quarter, knowing there were hunters around,” Will commented and crossed his arms, regarding Logan with a reprimanding glare. Gregory remembered how Will had been given guardianship over Logan for a few months in Chicago. Though he wasn’t on friendly terms with the old sailor anymore, it was obvious he and Logan were still close, or at least felt some kind of bond.
“Hunters?” Darren exploded. “Did you know about this?” he asked Dustin, making his beta shrink under his alpha’s dominance.
Instead of giving Darren an answer, he turned to Logan. “Did you know?”
All eyes were on Logan and Gregory tried to suppress a grin. The boy had certainly screwed up – again.
Katey was just on the edge of their group now and stood, waiting to be noticed like a shy child. Despite her anxiety, Gregory likened her to a statue of a goddess, standing there apart from everyone and so unlike all of them. In fact, she was far superior to them, and they didn’t deserve her.
Logan wouldn’t meet their glares but kept his eyes pinned to Katey, a look of incomprehensible uneasiness written in every line of his face. Gregory thought it right that Logan, of all wolves, should be reverent in her presence.
One by one, the rest turned to see what the boy was staring at. As they realized who was among them, wolves parted like the Red Sea to allow her to approach her lover, forgetting their quarrel for a brief moment.
In one last burst of bravery, Katey ran to Logan, and they embraced without hesitation.
Those who knew of the hunters turned to those who did not.
“There’s a group of hunters located just outside of New Orleans,” Teddy informed Darren, one alpha speaking to another. “Michael knew it and had Forrest call us up to evacuate the bayou.”
Darren’s eyes blazed. “He told us it would be safest here.”
Will stepped up. “He reasoned that the safest place to be was in the middle of the den – so to speak. They have operatives keeping an eye on the hunters.”
“What operative?” Darren demanded. “There isn’t a single person who can stop the invasion of hunters if they had a mind for it.”
“Anton Wiatrowski,” Gregory announced, the fearsome name echoing off the high ceilings and shaking the dangling crystals of the chandelier.
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Some eyes turned to Gregory, while others shuddered at the utterance of one of the most cunning of the vampire race.
Anton was the vamp who single-handedly took out a pack of wolves in the northeast after that same pack had massacred a coven of vamps for stealing one of their women. Anton was the vamp who was rumored to have journeyed across the Pacific Ocean from his homeland of Russia and fed on the passengers and crew of the boat he stowed away on. By the time the ship came into port, he was the only thing left onboard. He was a wolf’s first boogeyman and a vamp’s first hero.
“Anton?” Darren repeated, all anger lost from his voice.
Will nodded. “We met him last night,” he replied. “He’s thinner than I thought he would be, but I guess that’s why he’s as great as he is.”
“He doesn’t seem like a bad guy,” Forrest added. “Logan told me how Anton brought them here from a vamp bar on Bourbon Street and – “
As if being reminded of the serious mischief his wolves had committed, Darren turned to Logan again. “A vamp bar?” he thundered.
Katey pressed herself against Logan’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist.
“We were only trying to find Michael. Anton found us first,” she answered, her voice meek and slightly trembling. Katey still hadn’t found her legs yet when it came to her role in her own pack. That was evident, but Gregory knew it couldn’t have been that way before the breaking.
From what Erik told him, Katey was independent. He had known of wolves who were once defiant, then dropped down to the lowest rank in the hierarchy because they couldn’t get over the mental anguish of the breaking. Perhaps it was too soon to tell with Katey, but Gregory sincerely hoped she would grow herself another backbone before too much time passed. They all needed her strength for the peace council.
Probably sensing that diffidence in her, Darren softened under her gaze. “I wish you wouldn’t have put yourself in that kind of danger. What if there were a vamp in that bar that wanted to harm you?”
Beast Within (Loup-Garou Series Book 3) Page 31
