Hail to the Queen (Witch for Hire Book 2)

by Shyla Colt

  Hope springs up inside of me. We may pull this off yet.

  ***

  Eyes burning and stomach growling, I stumble to the car with a sixty-four-ounce mug full of mocha coffee. Three hours isn’t enough time to feel human. I curse Charlotte as I drag my weary body into the car. If her idea of an emergency doesn’t coincide with mine, she won’t need to worry about a haunting ’cause I’ll kill her myself. I shove half a breakfast bar into my mouth and chew, ignoring the way my cheeks balloon out like a chipmunk. I’m never good company when I’m hangry, and I need to approach this situation professionally.

  The frantic woman wringing her hands as she paces the length of the front porch is a far cry from the woman who crept into our office weeks earlier. Frizzy hair, pale skin and manic behavior have taken over. In her long, white nightgown, with a clearly disturbed psyche, she looks set to play Othello’s madness scene.

  A malevolent force shrouds the plantation in the form of darkness that can only be felt. The oppression is heavy. I pull up beside the Studi Baker, grateful they waited for me before they proceeded beyond the tall iron gates.

  Sacha rolls down her window and presses the gray button on the intercom. The speaker box buzzes loudly, and the gates slowly swing inward. Charlotte leaps from the porch like a gazelle, bounding the stairs two at a time as she races toward us. My car has barely come to a complete stop when she slams her body into the teal beast. The thud makes me jump.

  Fel exits the passenger door. “Charlotte, are you okay?” she asks quietly.

  Charlotte turns her head toward Fel, but her expression is blank. Dark circles make the skin under her eyes appear bruised. It could be lack of sleep making her slow to respond, but the dead-eyed stare gives me the chills. Fel places a hand on her shoulder. “Charlotte?” she whispers softly. Her body shakes like a car in desperate need of an alignment driving on cobbled roads.

  “Mrs. Addington,” I say sternly.

  She blinks. Awareness floods into her expression. “What happened?” I ask.

  “I-I woke up to the smell of smoke and the shriek of smoke detectors. There were wads of tissue all over the hallway. A few were still smoldering, and others had burnt edges. The shadow people have moved from rattling doors to lighting fires.” Her voice cracks. She tugs at the neck of her gown, scratching the red, irritated skin.

  “Why are you still here? This house isn’t worth your life,” Sacha says incredulously. “You should’ve left.”

  “They won’t let me,” she whispers.

  What? We all stare, confused.

  She’s lifted off her feet and pulled toward the front door. It slams open just in time for her to disappear through the dark entryway before it closes. It’s a blatant challenge. I ball my fists.

  “I think we’ve just been called out,” Fel says.

  “It’d be rude of us not to properly respond.” I stalk to the back of my car and pop the trunk. My mind is focused on retrieval as I gather crosses, holy water, and a Bible.

  “Who’s ready to put everything we’ve learned to good use in a crash course in demonology?” Sacha asks in a snarky video game host impression.

  “I’ll take us for a thousand, Morel,” I reply.

  The house is an enemy ready to engage in battle. We walk toward is it side-by-side, united. I wave my hand, ripping the door open. Flickering lights cast odd shadows in the foyer. My eyes struggle to take in the information they’re rapidly receiving with every befuddling flash. We step inside cautiously. The chandelier rattles above our head. Skirting the potential death trap, we quickly move to the left.

  Curtains ripple from an invisible source in the room to the right. The door shuts behind us. A creature scurries across the ceiling. Debris rains down on our head. Fel cups her mouth to call for Charlotte. I slap her hands down. “Try not to turn us into the stereotypical first girls to die in the horror movie, please.”

  “How do you think we should find her?” Fel asks.

  “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Sacha whispers. “Look.” She gestures her head toward the stairs. Charlotte is crouched at the top of the stairs, foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. Her head moves jerkily to the left and right, like a nervous tick. An inhuman growl leaves her lips.

  “I think it’s safe to assume she’s possessed,” Sacha mumbles.

  “This one is mine.” I step forward, planting my feet. “Who are you?”

  Charlotte stands. Her dry laughter explodes, echoing off the walls. The smell of rotting flesh fills the air. An icy wind tugs hair from my ponytail. Chill bumps raise on my skin.

  “Come and join me. I can grant your every wish.”

  “There’s nothing worth your fee, Djinn,” I yell to be heard over the wind.

  Charlotte blinks, stunned. “You know me.” Charlotte smiles. “Let me show you my power. I can offer you your heart’s desire.” Charlotte beams.

  “We don’t want what you’re selling,” Sacha shouts.

  “Are you so sure? How would you like to have your father eating out of the palm of your hand? Deep down, you’ve always longed to be a Daddy’s girl, but he never saw you as more than a political pawn.” Her voice is infused with false sympathy. “I can change that.” An image flickers on the wall across from the stairwell, like a projector movie. “I can change it all … past, present, future.” He shows her images of her father, lovingly playing tea party, and helping her build a lemonade stand. She’s glued to the images that I know never happened. “You know he’ll never come around on his own. Why deprive yourself of true happiness?” The Djinn’s deep voice is off-putting coming from the disheveled blonde-haired woman.

  I reach inside my jacket for the bottle of holy water, push the tab, and send it hurtling toward her with a flick of my wrist. “We’re not interested in your lies, deceiver.”

  She hisses like an angry snake. I send another blast of holy water hurtling toward it with my powers. I won’t give it a chance to ensnare any of us again. Charlotte’s mouth opens wide. Projectile vomit rockets through the air, staining the stairs a sickly green hue. Dropping to all fours, she crawls down the stairs through her own sick.

  “We rebuke you, unclean spirit,” Sacha says shakily. She holds out a cross, and Fel joins us. Steam pours off Charlotte’s skin as the water makes direct contact with her face and sizzles. She scuttles away in a crab walk that has me wishing we were trying to kill her with fire instead of trying to take her alive and exorcise her.

  “We can’t let it get away.” I give chase. Lights burst in our wake, showering us with glass. Tiny slivers bite into my skin. I ignore the stinging pain as we slide around the corner. Black figures spring up around us. I jump to the left to avoid one, only to scream when two more appear and run through me. Frozen from the inside out, my legs are kicked out from underneath me. I hit the floor at an awkward angle. Pain shoots through my upper body and my shoulder as it pops out of the socket.

  I roll to my side and struggle to my feet like a turtle flipped on to its shell. My left arm dangles uselessly at my side. More shadow beings crowd in around us, rising from the floor. Fel screams. Three claw marks appear down her neck. Sacha gags, scratching at her throat. Her face turns red.

  “Cristo,” Fel barks. The attack wavers long enough for the girls to pull their crosses. We may not be ready to perform a full exorcism on our own, but we can protect ourselves. The floor shakes. A sound like cloth ripping rings in my ears. The floor splits beneath us. I flail as I drop and slam into a dirty floor. Dust flies around us. I cough when it enters my nose and lungs.

  “Oh God. They’re trying to break through,” Sacha groans.

  “We need to hold the veil together.” Suddenly the ripping noise makes sense.

  “It’s not a long-term—” Fel begins.

  “We need to buy time.” I cradle my arm to my body. Hooves click on the floor overhead. />
  “It’s going to take more power than we have,” Sacha says.

  I find the crack in the barrier they’re squeezing themselves through like mice. Envisioning a seal over the tear, I thrust my power into mending it. I hold the pieces together, magically sewing it back together. They’re sucked back through as the magic takes hold. Sacha and Fel lend me their power to channel into my task. My body aches and protests the amounts of energy being run through it. I taste the coppery flavor of blood in my mouth. My nose is gushing red, and my eyesight is fading. I sway on my knees, struggling to breathe as my lungs burn.

  A wet cough rattles in my chest. Blood blossom. The tug on the other end of the veil lessens. I feel their tenuous hold give. The banishing is done, for now. With the danger passed, I let go. Light explode beneath my lids, blinding me before my consciousness fails me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Are you sure you’re up for this meeting?” Fel asks.

  A few days after the attack, I’m still babying my shoulder and taking antibiotics for an acute case of bacterial infection that set in my lungs. Forty-eight hours in the hospital being pumped with powerful meds, and a shoulder popped into socket later, I’m dragging myself to a council meeting. I could use a week of recovery at the least, but the Djinn aren’t going to wait, so we can’t afford to either.

  “I’m a fast healer, and we don’t have the luxury of time on our side.”

  “Where’s your jailer? This is the farthest away I’ve seen him since you were in the hospital,” Sacha says.

  “I think it’s sweet,” Fel states.

  “More like terrifying if you try to get between the two of you,” Sacha argues.

  My face heats. Things between Cristobal and I had been shaky at best since I woke up in the hospital.

  “Trust me, he’s around, and there’s a reason the meeting is being held here at the mansion.”

  “I can’t blame the guy. Things could’ve been so much worse,” Fel says.

  “Are you fully riding the Team Cristobal train, or what?” I give a weak laugh.

  “I’m all for anyone who puts your first. Because you never will. Haven’t you ever wondered why I was never upset you left?” Fel replies.

  “Yes,” I admit.

  “It was the one completely selfish act you’d ever allowed yourself. Even back then, you felt the weight of the future. We all knew you’d be named a successor. Mémé pushed you harder, forced you to take on more responsibilities sooner, and judged you on a completely different scale than everyone else in the family. I watched you lose a lot of who you were after we graduated high school. Then you met Cristobal, and I saw the old Lou.”

  I look to Sacha. “Is this true?”

  Sacha clears her throat. “I’m the last person to talk about letting family expectations color who you are. I was in the same boat. I always thought we remained so close because of that factor. When you left, it felt like I’d been betrayed and left to atrophy alone. It also sparked a fire inside of me that grew. So … Thank you for being brave enough to venture out into the world and see what else was there.”

  “Do you mean that?” Hurting her has always been one of my biggest regrets.

  “Positive.”

  I smile. “Thank you.”

  “Now that we have the after-school special moment out of the way … Fel’s right. You always put yourself last when you’re placed in charge of people. Without Cristobal, you’d run yourself into the ground, and continue to be self-sacrificing.”

  “That’s not what I’m being at all.”

  “Yes you are,” they say in unison.

  Caw. I glare at the trees where a Raven I know to be Cristobal is perched, keeping an eye on our visiting guests incognito. The sound draws me back to my time in the Fae lands when I’d almost chosen the wrong door. Was he there even then? “You’ve got some explaining to do, Cortez. As soon as we get out the boiling water threatening to cook us.”

  “Even the animals here agree with us, Lou. Stop being so stubborn and realize we only want to help,” Sacha says.

  “I refuse to change who I am. I tried that once, and it didn’t mesh well. I ended up running for the hills, remember? This time they get me warts and all.”

  “No one expects that. But you can change the way you approach things,” Fel responds quickly.

  “How so?”

  “Look before you leap, and let someone else take the lead when there’s danger. You’re not indestructible or so easily replaced,” she says gently.

  Her worry echoes Cristobal’s.

  “I was never meant to be a princess in a tower.”

  “No, but there’s got to be a medium between first on the frontline and hidden away in the castle.”

  Her words strike a chord. “I’ll try my best to find that place.” It’s the best I can give her. She smiles, and I know, for now, it’s enough. I feel Cristobal’s contentment through our link. It hits a nerve. He has an annoying habit of constantly getting what he wants. I sniff indignantly and put a wall up between us in the bond. I’m not above being petty or keeping him off kilter. The lord is too used to getting his way. I’m his partner, not another member of the court who must obey his every command. The conversation from the hospital remains in the front of my mind as we move into the house to prepare for the meeting.

  Two Days Prior

  “I’m going to get a complex if you keep getting injured while I’m away.”

  I swim up through the layers, toward the voice. My fingers twitch, and I fight against the urge to return to slumber. My lids seem to have weights on them as I struggle to peel them up. Cristobal’s face comes into view, and my soul rejoices.

  “Hi,” I croak.

  He bends over me, kissing my forehead. “Let me get you some water.” He disappears momentarily and returns with a large pink cup with a straw. Using the button on the side of my bed, he helps me sit up and holds the cup to my lips.

  I take a drink. The cool water coats my mouth and throat. I moan my approval.

  “Thank you. What happened?”

  “I should be asking you that. Why would you take on such a tremendous task by yourself?”

  “I had help.” I regret the white lie immediately.

  “The sorry state you arrived in says otherwise. What were you thinking using that much of your magic.”

  “If I hadn’t neither of us would be here because we’d be fighting a war.”

  “You can’t protect everyone—”

  “I know you aren’t insinuating I should’ve left the girls out to dry.”

  “No, I’m telling you I’m not fooled by your martyrdom. You used them as a vehicle to help you channel, but you left their power untapped.”

  “Because they were the second line of defense had I failed.”

  “You cannot continue to take risks like that.”

  “Why am I more important than anyone else?”

  “A queen is meant to be protected. Not because she is weak, but because she’s far too valuable to risk.”

  “Pretty words that mean nothing. I was raised to fight for what I believe in, and my people.”

  “And you have. Now let them return the favor.”

  I grunt and wince, immediately regretting it.

  His look screams, ‘See.’

  “It’s poor manners, kicking a girl when she’s down,” I croak.

  “I’m not kicking you. I’m trying to make you see reason.”

  “I’m not conceding this time. You’ve gotten most of what you’ve wanted since I came back—”

  “And you haven’t?”

  “No,” I say firmly.

  Shock reaches us.

  “I’ve met you halfway and compromised left and right with the understanding that we are literally two different species who think in different ways. You’ve a
sked me countless times to keep this in mind. Can you honestly say you do the same? This is who I am. I won’t spend the rest of our time together biting my tongue and feeling encroached upon. I protect the people I love. That means putting myself in the line of danger. It can’t be helped. Stepping in as Lady and Matriarch are going to exacerbate that fact, not lessen it. I ask you to give me the same respect I give you. For a modern man, you have some archaic inclinations when it comes to love and relationships. “

  He looks offended. “I’m a gentleman with decorum.”

  “No one would deny that.” I can feel the wheels in his head turn. After a quick knock, the nurse enters.

  “It’s good to see you awake, Ms. Esçhete.” Her presence ends the awkward conversation. Worn out from the emotions, I welcome the reprieve. This is far from over.

  ***

  Present

  I take my time finishing my tea, making the council wait for me to begin my speech. It’s a trick I’ve learned from the court. No one does polite insults the way they can. This might be their show, but we’re in my territory, and that gives me some home court advantage. I set the empty cup on its saucer and clear my throat.

  “As Felicite shared with you briefly, we’re dealing with a Djinn. For eons, they’ve searched for a way to break through the veil between our worlds. It seems they’ve finally succeeded.”

  “What do you they want?” Vale asks.

  “To make us suffer and take over. I was able to hold off the inevitable by resealing the tears, but it’s a temporary solution. The recent rashes of disturbances are connected to the breach, but we’re not sure how or why. Information on the Djinn is few and far between. Thanks to Cristobal, we’ve found an expert on the subject, Baal Shem Issur Shafir.”

  “A what, my dear?” Meadow asks.

  “A Baal Shem, a Jewish holy man, similar to a rabbi who specializes in history. He’s agreed to educate and assist us.”

  “Wait, are we talking about a Jewish exorcist?” Zephirin snorts.