by Dana Fredsti
“We haven’t met,” I assured him, even though it almost felt like lying.
“Then unless you ladies want a tattoo, you’ll have to excuse me. The shop is, after all, closed.”
“We won’t bother you anymore.” I smiled even though it hurt my face to do so. “If you do see Tia again, can you tell her we were looking for her?”
“And who shall I say stopped by?” His smile was smooth, oily, and as dark as the abyss I fell into in my dreams.
“Linda and Carrie,” I replied. “Tia has my number.”
* * *
Eden waited until we were well away from LeRoy’s Ink Shop, safe in the crowds of Bourbon Street, before turning to me and asking, “Did you buy any of that?”
“Hell, no.” I practically spat out the words. I did not like or trust LeRoy. “That guy gives me one of the biggest cases of the creeps I’ve ever had. If Tia had really decided to leave all of a sudden, I think she would have mentioned it. She definitely would not have said she was going to check on a few things.”
“What if she just said that so you wouldn’t ask her any more questions?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not even a possibility.”
“Are you sure?” Eden pressed. “You said yourself she’s been on the move, and not stayed in one place for more than a few months at a time.”
“Just… no,” I insisted. “Tia took her work seriously. And she may even be a drifter, but she isn’t a flake. Tia was working toward a future, and just vanishing without a word to anyone, especially her current boss…” I shook my head again. “Just no. I don’t believe it. But I am sure that’s what LeRoy wanted us to think.”
Eden mulled this over for a minute and then nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. But what do we do now?”
“I don’t know.” Admitting that pissed me off. I wanted answers immediately and easily, like breaking open a fortune cookie. The hard fact was that I needed to find out more about LeRoy, but I had no idea where to even start with that. “I guess maybe talk to some of the other tattoo shop owners and employees, see if anyone knows where LeRoy came from. See if anyone will vouch for his honesty.” I heaved a defeated sigh. “I have an early-morning call tomorrow so there’s not much I can do about it tonight.” It killed me to admit that.
Eden reached over and gave me a one-armed hug that somehow managed to be reassuring and calming at the same time. “How about we head back, have a drink at the Carousel Bar—my treat—and go from there?”
I considered this. “Fine, but it’ll be my treat, okay? I’ve got a per diem to spend and, so far, I’ve been doing a piss-poor job of it. People keep buying me drinks.”
“Ooh, that’s a first world problem if ever I’ve heard one.” Eden gave me another one-armed squeeze. “I’m happy to give you a hand with this.”
* * *
Three hours later I trudged down the hall to my room, so tired I could barely see straight. Eden walked beside me, one hand on my shoulder to make sure I didn’t careen into the walls like a sleepy and tipsy pinball. I’d already done that once.
“C’mon,” she urged gently. “Only a little bit further.”
I stumbled and kept walking. I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink at the bar, but maybe the whole going around and around thing gave the alcohol a head start screwing with my equilibrium.
Or maybe I’d just had one too many drinks.
Bonk. I rebounded off the wall for the second time, taking two steps back before stopping.
“Do you think you’re gonna throw up?”
“Doubtful,” I replied, although it came out more like “dowful.” I rarely got sick to my stomach.
“That’s good. Here we are.” Eden got the door open and helped me inside. I made an immediate if sloppy beeline for the bed, sprawling on top of the covers.
“You want some water?”
“Sure,” I replied sleepily. “I should take my shoes off.”
She gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, probably. I’ll give you a hand.”
“Thanks.” Gentle hands removed my shoes and then helped me get under the covers. I reached out and curled my fingers around her wrist. “You’re awesome,” I said with the unfiltered sincerity that only comes with lots of alcohol consumption. “I’m glad we’re friends.”
A pause and then, “Me too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“How are you feeling?” Eden peered down at me as I did my best to burrow back under the covers and ignore my alarm that told me it was time to get up and go to work.
“Did I do or say anything stupid last night?”
“Only if you count telling the bartender that he looked like Chris Hemsworth and asking if you could see his mighty war hammer.”
Groaning, I pulled the covers over my head. “I didn’t. Tell me I didn’t.”
She flashed me a wicked grin, ducking when I threw one of my pillows at her. She made up for it by handing me a cup of coffee from the Keurig to tide me over until I could get a better cup elsewhere.
Whatever other crappy heritage I’d inherited from my parents, one of the pluses was an apparently iron stomach and a constitution that laughed off the other ill-effects of alcohol. It would be nice if my resistance to hangovers also included an inoculation against saying things I might regret later, but, oh well.
Jumping into the shower, I washed away the last of the mojito cobwebs from my brain, letting hot water sluice over me before ending with a cool rinse that finished the wake-up job that the coffee had started. I then threw on yoga pants and a pale lavender T-shirt with the words “I’m a delicate fucking flower” on the front, pulled on athletic shoes, and grabbed my tote bag. Eden, meanwhile, brewed a cup of coffee for herself and lounged on the sofa, legs curled up underneath her. She looked like a 1940s movie star in her pink satin pajamas, impossibly fresh-faced. Especially that early in the morning.
“What are you gonna do while I work?” I asked, tossing my phone into my tote bag and heading to the door.
“Well,” Eden said, taking a sip of her coffee, “I thought I’d check out a few tattoo parlors and see what I can dig up on our friend LeRoy.” She smiled slyly. “Sound like a plan?”
“A plan only slightly less awesome than you,” I replied sincerely. “I’ll call you from set when I can, okay?”
* * *
No real info on LeRoy. Store is relatively new, he hasn’t pissed anyone off enough to badmouth him. Except Barney at Dark Art says he’s a dick. Does that count?
I texted back, standing in the shade of a cypress, out of the bright morning sun.
Hell if I know. Thanks for doing the legwork. See you later.
“Important?”
I turned to see Leandra smirking at me, all voodoo hot-to-trot in her white dress, which matched my current wardrobe.
“Maybe,” I replied neutrally.
“But not as important as making me look good, yes?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Seriously, Leandra? There are so many things in life that are more important than making you look good, but luckily for you, my job right now is doing just that. If I answer a text or a call in my spare time, it is none of your business. Are we clear?”
She growled. A real liquid growl, like a big cat would make in the wild, a lion in the veldt. I could see the hair—fur—on her arms stand on end as she stood straighter, taller, and took a step toward me.
“And stop trying to make yourself look big.” I shook my head. I was so not gonna play submissive kitty. “It’s just silly and I am not getting in a cat fight with you.” I stood my ground as she took one more step in my direction. Her irises shimmered, flashing gold, and her pupils grew long and slitted like a cat’s.
All I could hear in my head was Cartman from South Park’s voice saying, “Bad kitteh!” and that was enough to make me laugh. Which didn’t go over well. Cats do love to stand on their dignity.
Tough shit.
“He’s mine,” Leandra growled. “Just remember that.” I
didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.
Did we just experience a wrinkle in time and jump back to high school?
“You could just pee on him, y’know.” I spoke in a cheerful undertone.
“Only males mark their territory that way,” she replied in all seriousness.
“Everything okay, ladies?” Cayden appeared as if out of nowhere. He looked as if he’d stepped out of the cover of an old men’s adventure magazine—olive-drab cotton shirt, khaki pants tucked into well-worn leather boots. He even wore a sizeable knife tucked into a scabbard on his belt.
I suspected he knew he’d interrupted a disagreement. Bad feelings and malice leave traces in the air, no matter how good the acting talents involved.
I’m not sure if Leandra would have pushed the issue any further if Cayden hadn’t appeared. Sure, I could take her, but probably not without hurting her. I was on this film to prevent her from putting herself in any danger of being injured or bruised. Oh, the rich, rich irony.
“Lee, the extras for the voodoo ritual scenes are wrapping up in wardrobe and makeup,” Cayden said. “We need to make sure their placement doesn’t interfere with the initial physical confrontation between Marie and Perrine, so I’ll need you and Angelique to run the choreography while the second AD wrangles them into place.” He turned to Leandra. “Why don’t you come inside the house and have some coffee? No need for you to be out here until it’s time to do close-ups.”
Leandra pouted. I couldn’t stand that expression on anyone older than five and even then, it was questionable. Cayden, however, seemed to find it acceptable. Maybe that was because she’d sidled up to him and was now running a finger up and down one well-muscled arm. Not that I cared about his build.
“Don’t you want me to stay on set to help keep your spirits… up?”
Angelique, fresh and gorgeous in a white cotton shift, came out of the house just in time to catch Leandra’s question, and promptly stuck a finger in her mouth and mimed throwing up. I immediately felt better.
“How did you two get along when you were kids?” I asked her as soon as Leandra had moved out of earshot.
“When we were younger I used to drive Leandra crazy, always following her around, wanting to dress like her, be like her.” Angelique gave a rueful smile and shook her head. “I wanted to be her.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged. “I grew up and developed better taste.”
“Or recognized a lost cause,” came Leandra’s voice behind us. “Smart little kitten knew she was outclassed.” She gave a little laugh and sauntered off toward the house. I could practically see a tail swish back and forth.
Note to self. Earshot for shifters was slightly further away than I’d thought.
“Bitch,” Angelique muttered. “One of these days I swear I’m gonna jerk a knot in her tail.”
The extras started trickling out of the house, where makeup and wardrobe were staged, until there was a small crowd out back. There were people of all ages, from little kids to a woman who had to be over eighty. They all wore a variation on white shifts, skirts or pants and tops, as voodoo serviteurs would have worn in the 1800s.
Two things were true of everyone there. They were all excited to be a part of the film, and they all looked like they were related. Same strong cheekbones, a certain slant to the eye that screamed feline, and the same grace that both Angelique and Leandra had in abundance. Even the little ones had it, although they had the same kind of ungainly bumbling style of play as kittens. They would tackle one another, and pop up again like gravity did not exist for them.
I watched in amusement as the cubs tumbled around on the ground, then dashed up into a tree, the pursuer becoming the pursued, and then switching back again in seconds. I briefly wondered what would happen if I married a shifter. Would I end up with a kid that was part kitten or cub? That might be fun. But would they need diapers and litter boxes? Never mind, too much work.
I watched the cubs tumbling and rolling around for a few minutes, trying to catch the moment when their human form morphed into feline. The sounds of little kids giggling and cubs making those adorable nurgling growling noises were too cute for words, especially when combined with their antics on the grass. A YouTube sensation waiting to happen, if the supernatural and normal could handle the collision.
I heaved a sigh of contentment, feeling a rare moment of happiness that I was lucky enough to be part of both worlds. If Tia would just get in contact, things would be about perfect right now.
One of the cubs evaded a pounce by one of its kin, rolling into my legs. I laughed, reaching down to scoop it up into my arms. Its tawny fur was spotted, four stubby little legs waving in the air as I cradled it upside down, dropping a quick kiss on its triangular nose. It stopped squirming, a deep rumbling purr vibrating through its entire body. As I watched, the fur shortened, the nose lengthened while the whiskers retracted, and soon I found myself holding a chubby little girl with large green-gold eyes and a grin so mischievous and adorable that it melted even my hard heart.
Okay, yeah, my heart isn’t particularly hard, but I’ve never been much for kids. Kids that are crossed with kittens, however…
Oh my god, ridiculously cute.
She reached up and threw her arms around my neck, rubbing her cold and wet nose against mine, the rumbling of her purr still vibrating through her.
“You are disgustingly cute,” I said. “It shouldn’t be legal.”
The little werecub giggled, morphed back into a feline, and clambered up onto my shoulder. Her claws dug in as she pushed off, leaping back to the ground.
“Ouch,” I said with no real heat, watching as my little pal was pounced on by her playmates.
“Lee, you ready?”
I turned my attention back to the job at hand.
* * *
As the Thaumaturge grew larger, it explored the boundaries of its new home. While it had plenty of space in the water, it grew hungry and bored. Wildlife had started to avoid its territory. It reached further, trying to find an opening in the invisible yet solid barrier that surrounded it.
It discovered two things.
If it stretched its tendrils deep enough in one direction, there was a tiny little opening below the muck in the bottom of the lagoon. It could only send out very small pieces of itself, but that was enough to catch the occasional unsuspecting frog or fish swimming on the other side.
Then it also discovered if it reached up in the same area, there was another, larger hole where it could crawl along one of the cypress trees and its roots. It couldn’t hear, but it could sense. Something was moving on the other side. The Thaumaturge stretched further…
* * *
Angelique leaped up in the cypress tree, landing in a little crouch on the overhanging branch with the effortless ease of… well, of a cat. It was a great stunt, one that would require wirework for most non-supes, myself included. I had seen similar things done where the filmmakers rolled the film backwards, but I always thought that looked cheesy. This, on the other hand, was pure poetry in motion. I’d forgotten how much fun it was to work on a film like this, even if some scenes could only be filmed in secret, remote second unit locations to avoid the public eye.
Devon gave Cayden a satisfied nod. They conferred while Angelique collapsed onto the branch with her arms and legs hanging off, looking for all the world like a leopard lounging on a tree limb.
“That was pretty much perfect,” Cayden said. “But let’s get one more like that for safety.”
Angelique gave a thumbs-up from her prone position on the branch.
In the water underneath, ripples spread out in concentric rings as something leaped out of the water and fell back in again, a small fish or maybe a frog.
Pushing herself back up to her hands and knees, Angelique pushed off with her legs and cleared the water to land on solid ground. She made it look easy.
I gave her a high-five.
“Why doesn’t Marie do thin
gs like this?” Leandra said with a frown. She’d stayed inside for all of ten minutes before coming back out to watch the action. “I don’t want Perrine to be more graceful than Marie.” She threw a dissatisfied glance in my direction as if saying, “See what I have to work with?”
“Leandra, darlin’,” Devon began, barely hiding his impatience. “We talked about this before.”
I wasn’t too surprised to hear it. I bet she’d tried to get me fired already.
“We talked about it, but I still don’t understand why you want Marie to seem less than her rival.”
“Perrine is younger, not as experienced,” Cayden interjected. “Marie’s strength doesn’t come from flashy tricks or trying to defeat her rival by leaping all over the place.” I saw him drop a quick wink in Angelique’s direction. “She is strong. Stronger inside, and she’s building up that strength while Perrine tires herself out.” He put his hands on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Lee is going to make you look exceptional when Marie fights. There will be no doubt in the audience’s mind who is the true Voodoo Queen.”
“Taking the whole thing a little too seriously, our Leandra is,” Angelique whispered next to me.
“No kidding,” I whispered back. “Hey, when you jerk that knot in her tail, can I help?”
We both started laughing.
A sudden screech sent all of our heads whipping around toward the cypress tree. Three of the shifter kids had taken advantage of the brief lull in filming to clamber up it, trying to imitate Angelique’s stunt. Two of them tumbled out of the tree to the ground, morphing from cubs to little boys as we watched, while the third, my little pal still in her cub form, huddled on a branch above, one that stuck out over the water. She stared below with wide eyes, her tail puffed out the size of a small Christmas tree.
“What now?” Angelique uttered. “I swear, those cubs are more trouble than—”
“Something is trying to eat Tikka!” shouted one of the boys.
The cub gave a high piercing wail.
As we watched, something that might’ve been a snake slithered up the cypress trunk, curling around tree limbs and branches, headed toward the cub.
