Spellbound Desire

by Angelia Sparrow

“Well, that’s for the second half! During this first part, we’re going to have a guided meditation. Those of you who have gotten something amazing from the Lord this weekend, raise your hands, yes, even you on the top deck. My volunteers are everywhere and they will come get you.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that of that, until I saw a lot of people in church clothes with carnations pinned to their lapels leaving the stage. At least he wasn’t sending imps. Each of the helpers carried an armful of carnations. The giant screen played soothing music over rustling trees. I felt a twinge as I watched the screen. How could I be doubting this? I’d seen Jinx win a large sum. It looked like a lot of people had had their lives changed in just a few days. So why not me?

  Bran’s hand came down on my arm and a nearly visible wall of blue energy slammed up in front of my eyes. “They’re using subliminals on the screens. Little messages about trust and Oeilett. Images of money and security. Might be best were you not watching it.”

  I let him put his arm around me. My life had changed in the last three days. While I was enjoying the change, I wasn’t sure it would be permanent. Part of me wanted it to be. The rest of me yearned for my solitary life, with my work and my rum and occasional Jinx visitations.

  I had better get used to the old way again. If Bran and the boys in leather failed, my life would be pretty short and nasty. If they succeeded, he’d be leaving. I could live with that. Everyone always left. It was time to pull on your big girl detective panties, Admire, and act like he was gone already.

  I let him hold me there anyway while Roark took the others through the meditation. That smooth, easy listening voice stroked the whole Pyramid, soothing them, telling them how much God loved them and wanted them to be happy and rich and well-cared-for. I’d heard it all before, but never delivered with quite this much conviction. The energy he drew out of the crowd flowed into the bowls of carnations on the stage, and the imps rocked happily among the flowers, looking fat and well-satisfied.

  I could feel something starting under the floor, down in the catacombs of the Pyramid. I’d once hunted out Mad Maudlin there. She and her Wild Hunt had come to town on her eternal quest for her lover, Tom O’ Bedlam. It had gotten ugly and I still had scars down my back from the crazy broad’s talons.

  This felt kind of like the energy a Wild Hunt used to get off the ground, but not really. I couldn’t tell. I was someone who’d had a few days of sampling good wine, trying to be a connoisseur.

  “Bran, do you feel it?” I asked. Dumb question. Kind of like asking a tightrope walker if he felt the earthquake that was happening.

  “Aye, we’ll be lucky if he stays contained until Thursday. The beastie is ready to walk the earth and fighting to get out.”

  The other CMs around felt it too. I saw several of them take up a grounding stance, as if they were pushing the demon back into the earth. I could almost see the mana flowing from their hands into the ground. Bran spread his own hands and pushed. The beast beneath us recognized his mana and roared for release. Even I felt that, all his cold, northern mana flowing down to freeze the door to a hell-plane that Roark was trying to open with his warm and sweet God-talk.

  Every CM in the arena looked our direction.

  “Steady, boys,” he whispered, and I knew they all heard it, because they all went back to pushing the gate shut. Bran got a look of dire concentration and suddenly, the mana wasn’t a bunch of individuals trying to plug cracks in the dike. It was one big, sturdy patch that would hold the wall shut.

  Roark looked up and I knew he saw us. He seemed to be marking Bran’s face. But his expression never changed. He kept leading the meditation without a moment’s falter or stumble. His helpers kept circulating. One of them handed Jinx a carnation.

  “Come on downstairs, honey,” she told him before moving on.

  I didn’t say anything as Jinx left. Bran flinched a few times like he was getting resistance to his work. I lost track of the energy work. There was a lot flowing around me and carnation-girl had broken my concentration. I needed more practice. Down on stage, Roark wound up the meditation, fairly rapidly for that sort of thing.

  He led the group in a sevenfold meditation of “Oeilett”.

  Bran and the CMs started sweating, muscles tense and jaws clenched. I wondered if they were really trying summoning him tonight instead of on the third seminar.

  Roark lost the soothing tone. “What a great job! Give yourselves a hand, Beloved. That was amazing. Now we’re going to have a break for a few minutes. Stand up, Beloved. Stretch and get a drink if you need one. When we come back, we’re going to hear from folks who have used the meditation and whom God has blessed for their faith.”

  Bran tugged me to my feet. “We’re going. I need to see Jackson and the others.”

  I followed him down and out to the parking lot. It looked like a scene from an old B-list biker movie. The ominous music just needed to well up and then the rumble between the two gangs would start. I figured Bran made up a gang all on his own.

  I counted at least a hundred bikers, all of them mages, waiting for us, every one wearing their leather. Black, white, Hispanic, male, female, it didn’t matter. They were all glaring at Bran like he’d kicked their puppy, or maybe turned it into something nasty.

  I could see insignia on most of the vests now. Before, I’d noticed a lot of riders wearing plain vests just for protection, Now I wondered how many of them were combat mages traveling incognito.

  A tall black man stepped forward. “Brother McKay, We understand what you did and why. But you overstepped yourself tonight.”

  He nodded. “Sorry, brothers.” He nodded at some of the women, “Sisters. There were too many innocents in there.”

  “You could have asked!” A heavy-set woman of average height, her bright purple hair vivid in the streetlights, stepped up. “I haven’t touched a man since the Witan made me get pregnant, but by damn, I’d like to break that vow just to punch you.”

  “Asking would have alerted the demon and likely Roark too. Had I troubled to ask, how many would have lent me the power and how many would have said no, leaving me without enough to patch the leak?”

  Some of the women, those around the purple-haired one, looked a little sheepish. Some of the men, black and white alike, looked belligerent. I knew some of their answers would have been no.

  “I did what needed doing. And since you’d already put out the mana, it was there for anyone to wield. Now let’s put a better face on for the last seminar, eh? That’s when it’s going to all blow up.”

  “Well why don’t we just blow it up?” Purple-hair asked.

  “Summer,” one of her ladies put in, “we can’t.”

  “It’ll make a really nice boom,” Summer suggested, looking longingly at the Pyramid. “And they’re not exactly innocents. They’re greedy fuckers who think nothing of summoning a demon for money.”

  “They don’t know what they’re doing. They’re feeling him, all that angelic energy, and calling it the Holy Ghost.” I was proud of Bran for defending the people, even if it was kind of dumb.

  The tall black man looked at Bran. “Told you about the anarchists.”

  “Aye, I see.” He straightened his vest. “Introductions all around then. Bran McKay, member-at-large, Ladies from Hell, Glasgow. I’m pleased to meet you and be here for my ‘let’s skip on his retirement’ engagement with my ancient foe. I know Brother Jackson of the Bluesmen.”

  “Summer Ysandir, Spectre Sister of Mama Lilith’s Rebel Daughters.” She didn’t offer a hand, but looked accusingly at a pretty Hispanic lady with her long black hair caught in a ponytail. “You didn’t tell us about Captain Macho.”

  “No, hermana, Jackson was not specific. Galena Ortiz, president, Las Quatras Brujas, Texarkana.” She shook his hand, her eyes tracing his scars. I had a sudden flash of jealousy.

  I listened as the introductions dragged on. We had Legba’s Bastard Sons and The Dark Queens up from Louisiana, the local Bluesmen, Hell’
s Belles and Moonshine Mountain Boys. Some of the latter had come from as far away as West Virginia and Pennsylvania, riding for two days to get here. Keelboatmen down from St, Louis and even a couple of Salem One-Niners sent by the Witan to keep this under control.

  I was impressed that we’d even picked up a combat healer. Ian was at-large as well, after moving away from Texas and the Lone Star Brigade. He was a big cheerful redheaded bear of a man, and I saw Bran take a second look at him. A couple of the Hell’s Belles came my way, wearing that fake smile certain women get when they’re about to be horrid.

  “Your turn, honey.”

  I stepped up. “D.J. Admire, private investigator. If you work the Nightside here in Memphis, you know me. The Witan hired me. I’m with Bran.”

  “Oh right. The little No-Talent PI who keeps finding her missing persons in various stages of dead.” One of the Belles turned her back and I could almost feel her smirk. I could see the silver tracery of her patches too, but not the insignia.

  “Celeste, she can’t help it, bless her heart,” another delivered with fake sympathy. I could feel the mages getting all restless and hostile, but it was aimed at me, not at the bitchy Belles.

  “That’ll be enough,” Bran said quietly and the tension in the air dissolved. “D.J. was chosen by the Witan for this. Complaints may be addressed to them. For now, she is going to take me home.”

  “To bed,” added Summer. “Fucking hell, could you project any louder, dude?”

  “Annoying child,” Bran said as he led me away from the group. I had never been so glad to be on the inside of my little beater car.

  “Thanks,” I said as I pulled out of the lot. Two of Jackson’s Bluesmen followed me like an honor guard. I wasn’t sure what they thought I needed protecting from. I had Bran with me, and anything he couldn’t take, that pair certainly couldn’t either.

  “My pleasure, darlin’. They have no right to heckle you. The Witan chose you. And you’re with me.”

  I yawned. It had been a long day. I reached over and patted his bare arm. “Helluva strike team you got, General McKay.”

  “Aye, here’s hoping we can make them all work.” He covered my hand and was quiet rest of the way home.

  At least until the large black dog tried crossing the road in front of us. The bikers dropped back and I hit the brakes. The dog stopped in the road and snarled at the car, then went on its way.

  Bran looked really pale rest of the way home. I wondered if it was the casting, the death omen or both.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bran

  D.J.’s phone klaxoned at some unreasonable hour. It was on my side of the bed, so I fumbled and got it on speaker. “Aye, talk to Bran.”

  A hesitant voice came over it, sounding incredibly relieved. “Bran, it’s Jinx. I need a favor, man to man.” He sighed over the line. “It’d be better if D.J. didn’t know about it.”

  My lady rolled away to the edge of the bed, and in as fine a Pavlovian display as I’ve ever seen, held up her hand as she would for a coffee cup. It tracked. Jinx’s voice, early morning, of course she was expecting coffee.

  I got the phone onto a more private setting, and rolled her back, guiding her questing hand to a treasure already awaiting it. She clasped my cock, snuggled into my chest and never did wake up.

  “Aye, what do you need, young Allan?” I thought it best to keep things more formal and serious.

  “I need a ride home.”

  That woke me right up. We had rather ditched the lad on mage business. “Lad, you didn’t sleep at the fewkin’ Pyramid did you?”

  “No, no, I caught the last trolley to Beale. I’m at…” he cleared his throat with embarrassment, “Hellzapoppin.”

  “Do I recall something of you promising your cousin you wouldn’t set foot in the place?” I asked.

  “Uh, yeah. That’s why I called you. Saraphina will kill me. Deej will kill me. I figured you wouldn’t kill me, just hand me over to Deej so she could.”

  “Quite flattering to be your non-homicidal transportation solution,” I grumbled. “And why are you not just catching a bus?”

  More hesitation and throat clearing. “I woke up in the VIP suite, clutching a platinum VIP membership. And my clothes look like they’ve been through a paper shredder. Twice. I’m going to have to loot the gift shop and all they have are women’s clothes.”

  “I see. Did you have a lovely time, then?”

  “I can’t remember!” Jinx wailed. “I was walking up Beale to catch a trolley, reminded myself not to go in, that I had promised, and the next thing I know, I’m awake, naked and alone in the VIP suite.”

  I eased D.J. off me and got a notepad from her desk. “Give me the address.” I took it down, already planning. “Allan, stay put. It’ll be a while, but I swear by my mother’s talismans, I will be there to get you. Some of this is bad.”

  “I’m bad,” he moaned, sounding very sincere.

  “Not all of this is your doing. Do you remember going in?”

  “No?” He didn’t sound too sure.

  “Did you spend any money?”

  “No, I had the same five dollars in my wallet when I woke up.”

  I asked the big question. “You would never break a promise like that to our girl on your own, would you?”

  “Oh no.” Jinx swallowed audibly. “She’d kill me. And I meant it. I don’t want to hang out in strip joints all my life. I’ll never find a girlfriend there.”

  “Wise man. It’ll be a bit, so sit tight. I’ll call when I’m near so you can await me on the street. I assume you’ll want to get home as quickly as possible.” I’d considered simply flying, but that drew a lot of attention. I expected Jinx wanted to travel as incognito as we could.

  “Yes, please.” Jinx hesitated again. “Thank you.” He rang off. I got dressed quickly and quietly and then stepped outside to make a call. Admire was still asleep, and I planned to let her stay that way. I’d wake her with coffee and pastries after a safe delivery of her wayward cousin.

  I explained the situation to Demarco Jackson. He sympathized at once.

  “Sure. There’s a couple bikes here you could use. I’ll send someone to get you. Where you staying?” I told him. He clucked a little more. “Sorry about the Rebs last night. I warned you. Go get her cousin. Don’t want the damned succubi getting their claws too deep in him. They’ll suck him dry, cash and come and soul alike.”

  I waited for my ride down on the sidewalk. I hoped they sent a car. I hadn’t ridden bitch for a lot of years.

  Demarco himself showed up, on a quiet little street bike. He tossed me a spare helmet and I got on behind him.

  “Ready?” he asked. He took a better look at the kilt. “You sure you want to wear that? Going bare-legged isn’t safe. I got some jeans you can borrow.”

  I looked at him for an exasperating busybody. “I heal fast. And danger’s part of the fun.” I straddled the bike, got my feet on the pegs and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Ready. Let me know if I’m a wee bit too friendly.”

  He laughed and we putted off. I hoped he had something nicer at the shop for me to borrow. This little Suzuki was pretty, but I’m too old to be leaning forward like some kid.

  It was only about ten minutes to the garage, but I was sore when we got there. “Getting too old for this shite, McKay,” I grumbled at myself, mentally cursing my own foolishness in forgetting to have some of the aspirin this morning.

  Jackson saw me stretch and wince. “Yeah, sorry. Looks like the loaner bike isn’t your style.” He gave me a grin. “I think this one would be more your speed.” He took me around back and I just stared.

  The Triumph Rocket III was a thing of pure beauty, all black and chrome, her already long front fork extended to chopper length. Solid British engineering and a nearly 2300 cc displacement engine, I was falling in love with her from windscreen to shiny tailpipes.

  “That’s my baby. I call her Dorothy.” I fear my eyebrows went up for he looked at me funn
y. “Dorothy Dandridge was the first black woman nominated for the Best Actress Oscar. Amazing woman and the bike is just as amazing. I’m taking a big chance on you, brother. Nobody rides my girl but me.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t wait to climb on and feel her as I turned the throttle.

  “You know where you’re going. Yeah?”

  I nodded. I’d looked at the GPS on my phone on the way over. Handy gadget that one. “Thank you. We may have saved a man’s life this morning.”

  “Time’s wasting. Get my baby back as soon as you can.”

  I took the spare helmet he offered and climbed onto pretty Dorothy. She felt nice under me, and turned on like a dream. I took her out of the parking lot, slow and easy, and headed for the club. This kitten purred, but when I opened her up, she roared.

  I was three blocks away when I called Jinx.

  “I can already hear you. I’m waiting.”

  And waiting he was, hiding in the doorway of the building as best he could. He hadn’t been joking about raiding the gift shop. I had to get the poor lad home and changed before his cousin or Saraphina saw him.

  He wore a hot-pink cropped t-shirt with “Hellzapoppin” across the chest in black sequins. It looked like a waitress’ shirt. The black hot pants with hot-pink piping, and hot-pink flip-flops finished the look.

  He hurried to the curb and I saw something behind him. The shorts came with a hot pink devil tail, covered in sequins. He looked utterly mortified and if those were his best choices, I understood why.

  I passed him the helmet and he sat as far back as the backrest would allow.

  “You’ll need to sit on the dangly,” I told him.

  He stared at me in horror. “The what? Bran, I’m not gay.”

  I sighed. “Not my dangly, you barmy twit. The tail. I don’t want it in the spokes.”

  “Oh, right.” He got the tail under him and squirmed until he was comfortable. He sat as far back as he could and put his hands on my shoulders.

  I didn’t let him see me snicker. “Now, tuck up here, so you don’t fall off.” The horrified look was right back on his face. “Allan, I’m seeing Admire. It’s hardly like I plan to drive you someplace private and bugger you over the bike.”