by Judith Post
Hennie finished a serious discussion with a customer—something about which herbs to use to expel spirits from houses—then rang up her order and came to greet Babet.
"You look serious, dear. Your mother's upstairs. Let me call her. No school today. Even witches travel to see relatives this time of year."
Her mother, dressed in a long, flowing, black skirt and a white, long-sleeved blouse came to join them. She looked lovelier than usual, with her light brown hair pulled up in a chignon and dark liner accenting her blue eyes.
"What's the occasion?" Babet asked.
Her mother blushed. Extremely unusual. She tried to sound nonchalant, but couldn't pull it off. "Your father gets to leave the Underworld today to spend time with me."
Hennie smiled her happiness. "I'm so happy for you, Rowan!"
Her mom took a deep breath, inhaling her anticipation. Babet's parents didn't get to spend much time together. Her father was the gatekeeper for the underworld, the immortal responsible for keeping the demons in their pits.
"Gazaar was worried it might not happen, that he couldn't find another incubus to take his place for the day, but we'll have four hours this afternoon. Not much, but something." She frowned at her daughter. "Unless you need me. Your face looked serious when I came down the stairs."
"No, I just need information." Babet knew how rare this occasion was. She wouldn't ruin it. She'd never met her father, didn't know who he was until a short while ago. He'd thought it would keep her safer, but she was so happy she'd finally gotten a chance to see him, talk to him, even if it was to defeat the demon, Jaleel. And even though it meant she had succubus blood mixed with her witch genes.
"Just information?" Her mother raised an eyebrow.
Babet rushed into the story of Hatchet and Colleen.
Her mother sighed. "What you need is help. Druid priests fear little. I doubt this Mandubrath cares who or what finds him, as long as Hatchet and Colleen die on his altar."
Babet shook her head. "You're not coming with us tonight. You hardly ever get to see my father."
"I appreciate your concern, but I'll be home before dinner. And yes, I will be there tonight…if you find out where there is. I'll bring our coven." She glanced at the mistletoe, hanging from the archway between the shop and the classroom. It celebrated the birth of the Sun God. "You know, witches and Druids have some things in common. Our magic isn't completely different."
"Does he fear witches?" Babet asked. "Or Weres? How powerful is Mandubrath?"
"He's older than we are," Hennie said. "Power grows with time. He's formidable."
"Can we beat him?"
"Druids always underestimate others," Hennie said. "They believe they not only have magic on their side, but the Otherworld too."
"Which is…?" Every magic had a different idea of what "others" meant.
"The Fey," Hennie said. "Their ancient gods and goddesses."
"This Mandubrath won't be satisfied with just killing Hatchet." Her mother walked to the urn on the counter and poured herself a cup of black tea. "He's gone to too much bother, tracking Hatchet down. He'll want to kill Colleen first, to make Hatchet suffer."
Babet had suspected the same. Hatchet's enemy obviously had a plan in place, and she suspected he was ready to take on whoever got in his way. "How strong is Druid magic?"
"Powerful, most have blood sacrifices to add to their strengths." Hennie gave a slim smile. "But Druids' pride sometimes proves their downfall. They think themselves invincible….and they might be, if they fought a single enemy. But they rarely work together. It's not their mindset, while witches combine their strengths in covens. If you find where Hatchet is meeting this monster, we'll see what Hatchet's Mandubrath is made of."
Babet looked from her mother—with her light brown hair and blue eyes—to Hennie—with her Mrs. Santa white hair and plumpness, and frowned. "I know you two became witches when River City was first settled. How do you know so much about Druids? I've never met one before."
Her mother sighed. "We traveled to England to celebrate the Feast of Mabon, remember? Druids came to some of the same sites we visited. Our holidays overlap."
"Were they nice Druids?" Babet asked. "Like Hatchet?"
"I'd hardly call Hatchet nice," Hennie said. "I think that would offend him."
"True." Babet thought. Good didn't quite describe him either. He was too prickly, too hard, to have soft adjectives applied to him. She shook her head. "You know what I mean. Were you glad you met Druids in England?"
Her mother's brow rose, remembering. "Most of them. They're a harsh breed, but the majority of them respect others."
There was a story there. Babet would ask about it some other time, but for now, she wanted to protect Hatchet and Colleen. "Do you think juju would have an object that would keep Colleen safe from Mandubrath?"
Hennie shook her head. "No, dear, the only way to protect your friends is to find Mandubrath and stop him."
That was the next step. Finding him. Where would the meeting take place? Babet gave a quick nod. "I might know someone who can help us with that."
Hennie gave a rueful smile. "You're not fond of Minette, but she has her uses."
The voodoo spirit with the down-turned lips loved to meddle in mortal affairs, loved to spy on current events. She struck Babet as a bitter, vindictive woman—even in death, but she knew things other people didn't. It was worth a try. "Prosper and I are driving to the voodoo settlement as soon as I return home."
Her mother nodded. "If we combine our magics, we might be able to drive Mandubrath off ."
"You don't think we can kill him?"
"No."
That wasn't the answer Babet was hoping for. Oh, well, they'd have to do their best. She gave her mom and Hennie a quick hug. "Gotta go. I'll call you as soon as I find out anything."
On the short walk back to her house, she thought about Druids. If Hatchet survived this, she wanted to ask him more about his religion. If he'd answer any of her questions. With Hatchet, it was hard to tell.
* * *
Prosper liked to drive, liked to be in control. Which was fine by Babet. She liked to ride along and look at the scenery. Nadine's settlement was on the river, near a bayou. The road they took followed the river bank on one side. Fields rolled in the distance on the other. They couldn't open their windows on this trip. The air was too chilly. No breeze in her hair. No scents. It made the trip seem longer.
Babet had invited Morgana to come. The snake usually enjoyed riding in the car, but not today, not even to return to her original home. Babet had opened the French doors that led to the back patio and courtyard, but Morgana slithered to her makeshift bed and lightbulb. She coiled inside it to heat herself. Familiars were independent things, bound to their witches, but not beholden.
Babet looked out her car window at the gray day—unusual for River City. Winter wasn't blizzards and snow piles this far south, but the usual vibrancy of warm temperatures was lacking. Her mind wandered. Each time she'd made this commute, there'd been a specific reason. Come to think of it, Evangeline made the same trip each time she visited the coven. Nadine's daughter, by Emile—a nasty, powerful warlock before Nadine killed him—was part witch, part voodoo priestess. She'd been attending classes with the coven, but Babet hadn't seen her at the last meeting.
Prosper interrupted her thoughts by fiddling with the radio. She turned her attention to him. "What did you find out when you talked to Lillith?"
He let out a long breath. "Once we know where to find Mandubrath, Lillith plans on joining us, along with most of the girls who work for her."
Babet looked at him in surprise. "Both the succubi and the vampires?"
"A mob of angry women," Prosper said.
No one messed with Lillith's girls. Babet liked that about the brothel. "Mom and Hennie are calling the coven together too."
A raccoon scurried across the road, and Prosper braked for it. Four, young raccoons followed behind it, heading for the river bank
. "I don't know anything about Druid magic. I wish I did. You'd think something one of us knows would help Hatchet and Colleen."
"The trick will be not to let Hatchet know we're there."
"Or Mandubrath." Prosper hesitated. "My pack's coming."
She stared. The Weres in River City didn't mix with other paranormals. "I've never seen your pack."
Prosper tried to make light of it. "We don't like working with other magics. We like doing our own thing. But so does Hatchet. If we're invading his space, we thought we should share ours too."
Babet nodded. "Our coven always worked alone before. Things have been a bit different lately."
"I've been a cop here a long time, and I can't remember voodoo and witchcraft working with vampires and succubi, but we haven't really had a choice." He glanced at her as Settler's Park came into view. It was where people first landed in River City when the river was the only road from one part of the country to another.
She was glad her window was up, so that she couldn't smell its dark magic. Magrat's grave was there, along with the other witches who'd died fighting the fire demon, Jaleel. That particular spot gave her goosebumps. She didn't like going there. Warlocks and voodoo priests aplenty had performed sacrifices on the river bank. The soil pulsed with old blood. The muck stank of it.
Prosper ran a hand through his soft, brown hair. "The park department redid Magrat's grave. You know that, don't you?"
"Did they re-bury the dagger?"
"I put its box in the ground myself and watched them cover it."
She nodded. That dagger had chosen her. She'd returned it to the wooden box, covered with spells, that Magrat had placed it in, and re-chanted its seals. Magrat's grave held no body—Jaleel had destroyed that—but it was a place of safe keeping for the box. Thankfully, she wouldn't need it for this.
They drove another half hour before the voodoo settlement came into view.
When they pulled to the curb at Nadine's tall, narrow house, no one stood on the porch, waiting for them. They were halfway up the walk before Nadine and her daughter, Evangeline, stepped out to greet them. Both women wore heavy sweaters.
Nadine's long, black hair was in its usual thick, plaited braids. Evangeline's raven hair waved past her shoulders.
Babet smiled at Evangeline. "I haven't seen you for a while. Is everything okay?"
Evangeline shuffled her feet nervously. "This time of year always saddens me. I miss the sun, the warmth, the gardens. I can't concentrate."
Her mother touched her arm. "My daughter broods every year at the beginning of winter."
"But we still have green and flowers." Prosper tried to cheer her, "not like the frozen North."
Evangeline shrugged. "It's gray, gloomy. I hate it." She turned on her heel and returned to the house.
Prosper stared at Nadine.
Nadine shrugged. "She's a sensitive child. She'll cocoon for a while, and then come out of it."
Babet frowned. She looked up and down the street. Not one woman stood on her front porch, watching them. Odd. "Is everything all right here?"
The priestess stared. An eyebrow rose. "We're fine. You've come about the Druid priest. Minette's seen him, followed him. He has the lovely vampire at Settler's Park, near the witches' grave." She gave Babet a sympathetic look. "Not one of your favorite places, I know."
Babet sighed. Mandubrath would have to pick that spot. "Hatchet's going there tonight, to offer himself in trade for Colleen. My coven's going to try to save him. So is Prosper's pack and Lillith and her brothel."
"More than enough. We'd be of little help in battle. We've given you the location. That's all we can offer." Nadine was dismissing them. The voodoo preistess wasn't being her usual self. Maybe the first days of winter depressed her too. But Babet had the uneasy feeling that something was definitely wrong.
Prosper interrupted her thoughts. "Thank you for your time. You've been a big help."
Nadine turned on her heel and stalked back into the house.
Prosper hooked an arm through Babet's and hurried her to his car. "Maybe each woman gets PMS at the same time in this settlement. We're not welcome."
"Yeah, I got that." It miffed her. She'd gone out of her way to work with them when they needed her.
"We've got a location," Prosper said. "You can let people know on our trip home."
While Prosper drove, Babet called her mom and Hennie, and then she called Lillith. She sat quietly while Prosper dialed the alpha of his pack. As she listened to him talk, she couldn't help wondering—Who could possibly lead Prosper? Only someone he admired and respected.
It was almost four when they got back to the bungalow. Morgana wasn't coiled in the deep window casement to greet them. Babet shook her head. Who knew that a gray day could be such a big deal?
Prosper went straight to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "What if I cook something and give you a break? Sort of a combined lunch and supper?"
She nodded. This would be their only chance to eat, and hunger didn't bring out the best in her. "You've been as busy as I have. We'll work together."
They decided on Creole chicken with tomatoes and okra over rice. Babet browned the chicken while Prosper stirred long-grained rice into hot broth. The kitchen filled with the scents of spices and meat. A half hour later, they sat at their little table to eat. The food was delicious, but neither of them noticed, as they should. They didn't talk much. They wanted to hurry and return to Settler's Park to find a place to hide before seven. They cleaned up with brisk efficiency, then dressed in black jeans and shirts, pulling on heavy, black sweatshirts with hoods, before they left the house.
This time, Morgana slithered after them. She never let Babet go into danger without her. Babet worried her bottom lip on the ride. Prosper played music to distract himself. They didn't park in the usual lots. They turned onto a back road and hid the car behind a hedgerow of bushes, then started the long walk to the graves. A short way in, Prosper raised his face and sniffed the air.
"My pack," he whispered.
Babet nodded for him to join them. She and Morgana went farther until a movement separated itself from a tree trunk. Her mother's face became visible. An obfuscation spell. Babet raised her eyebrows. Which tree wasn't taken? Her mother gestured toward a gum tree, and Babet went to blend with it. Morgana slid beside a fallen log and disappeared. And then they waited.
* * *
The sun set early in late December. Shadows disappeared into inky blackness. Headlights swung into the parking lot, far from where they hid. A car door slammed, and Hatchet stepped under the street lamps that circled the lot. He wore dark jeans, and nothing else. His tattoos contorted and twined in a mysterious dance.
A second figure moved under the motion lights near the river ramp. A tall, rawboned man, shirtless too, crossed his arms and waited for Hatchet to join him. When the lights flicked on, Babet could see a woman, twitching as she bled out, on the bank.
Hatchet saw her, too, and raised his palms.
"Not your vampire," Mandubrath said. "I needed someone for divination."
"And what did her blood and muscle spasms tell you?" Hatchet demanded.
"That you'd do as I told you." The ink drawings covering Mandubrath's body formed obscene shapes that wove into one another in suggestive movements.
Babet let out a sigh of relief. Mandubrath had asked the wrong question when he'd sacrificed the woman. His focus was so narrow, he only considered his and Hatchet's actions. The witches had placed themselves downwind from the graves. The Druids shouldn't be able to pick up their scent.
"Do you swear to take your vampire's place? To not fight me and let me bleed you instead of her?"
Without a word, Hatchet pushed his hands together in front of his body. Mandubrath said a quick chant, and strands of black magic tied them together. More strands wove between Hatchet's ankles, hobbling him.
Mandubrath stepped forward, and Babet could see his cruel smile from where she stood.
> Hatchet planted his feet. "I come no closer 'til you show me Colleen."
The Druid waved his arms, and Magrat's grave split open. A pine coffin rose from its depths. The lid fell aside. Colleen sat up, then struggled to stand. Silver chains bound her arms to her sides. She opened her lips, showing her fangs, and hissed at the priest.
"Such a lovely girl. Such fire," Mandubrath said. "I can see why you chose her."
"I chose him." Colleen's eyes glowed red.
"No wonder you were so willing to sacrifice yourself for him." Mandubrath laughed. "Two supernaturals so willing to end their immortality."
Hatchet's gaze locked on Colleen.
She grimaced. "He promised that if I'd join him, he'd set you free."
"He didn't have me."
"I couldn't take the chance." She raised an eyebrow. "And you?"
"He's promised to free you."
"His promises are worth nothing." Colleen pushed too hard against a chain, and her skin scorched. The smell of burnt flesh made Babet wrinkle her nose.
"Old friend, I'd love to see you suffer, but I'm afraid I'll have to settle for less." Mandubrath raised a knife to slit Colleen's throat when two bodies dropped down beside him. Lillith pursed her lips and inhaled, and a misty strand of soul unfurled from the Druid's mouth. She swallowed it. The Asian vampire from the brothel sank her fangs into his shoulder and slurped blood. The rest of the succubi and vampires surrounded him.
Magic blasted them all away, and Mandubrath whirled to see Hatchet. "You said that you came alone! You swore."
"And I take my pledges seriously. Unlike you."
"You must have told them. How could they know where to find us?"
Hatchet motioned toward the woman, now limp, on the muddy shore. "Your own magic showed you I followed your instructions. They came on their own."
The witches stepped into view. Babet's mother said, "A voodoo spirit followed you here. We have no use for your kind in River City."
