by Judith Post
“This one’s going to take a minute, Babs. I could help you along. Spend the night so you have a shoulder to lean on, someone to talk to.”
Babet raised her eyebrows, considering his offer. “Not a bad idea, and if I remember right, you still owe me a fancy dinner somewhere.”
He frowned. “I always pay a debt. Didn’t know I was behind.”
“When I helped you solve Emile’s death, you promised me dinner and dancing.”
“But you’re the one who wanted to spend the night at home.” He gave a wicked grin. “We ordered in food, and we danced, more than once.”
“Not the same.” But once she thought about it, who needed the ambience of a restaurant when she had Prosper for a night?
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s your call. But if I remember, you were starting gumbo when I came to ask you for help. I remember smelling a roux.”
“Gumbo takes a while,” she said. “How hungry are you?”
“Famished. But I can dance while the food simmers. I usually dance more than once.”
That decided it for Babet. They’d eat in again.
A Different Undead
The Third Babet & Prosper Novella
A Lunch Hour Read
by
Judith Post
Copyright 2012
To Lauren & Abby at Dystel & Goderich, for always having the right answers
To Michael Prete, for my beautiful book covers
&
To Robyn & Heidi for always liking what I write
Chapter 1
Babet smiled as she cradled the package under her arm. She’d spent more on the lingerie than she meant to, but if Prosper reacted the way she hoped he would, the money was well spent. She turned to mingle with the foot traffic on Magic Avenue. In summer, finding a place to park was impossible, so she’d walked here from her bungalow eight blocks away. She’d be hot and sweaty before she got home, but a cool shower would fix that.
Her footsteps froze as she gazed ahead. Someone familiar turned the corner onto Eye of Newt Boulevard. Really. Whoever thought of that should be shot. But tourists loved it. Someone bumped into her and tried to push past her. She was holding up traffic. She stepped closer to the curb, out of the flow, and looked again. Nope. She hadn’t made a mistake. She’d recognize that face anywhere. It was in every young witch’s textbooks.
Celeste Moonbeam. Such a nice name for such a dark witch. Long, cornsilk, blond hair and huge, silver-gray eyes—the image of purity and innocence. She looked remarkably good, considering she’d been dead for quite some time now. Babet hurried to the corner to follow her, but Celeste was nowhere in sight. She’d either ducked into one of the specialty stores or disappeared down an alley.
Babet turned on her heel and walked toward her mom and Hennie’s shop, tucked onto a narrow, side street, away from the press of tourists. Maybe they’d have answers she didn’t have. When she stepped inside the store, out of the hot, muggy air, blasts of coolness greeted her. Aaah. Heaven. Summer in River City was a stick-fest. Her clothes clung to her. Her dark hair stuck to her damp cheeks and forehead. Sweat pooled in her cleavage. She raised an arm—ich—and lowered it again. So much for deodorants.
“You’re just in time for lunch!” Her mom rushed past shelves displaying bottled herbs and potions to greet her. School was out for the summer, and Mom’s young witches had scattered. She used the time to help Hennie gather and make more supplies for their shop.
Hennie looked up from an inventory sheet she was studying, caught Babet’s expression, and frowned. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?” Hennie was like an aunt to her and could always read her moods.
“I just saw Celeste Moonbeam on Magic Avenue.”
Mom waved that away. “Impossible. She was hanged during the witch hunts before the Black Plague.”
“Then they buried her at a crossroads, so she could never rise again,” Hennie added.
Babet shook her head. “I know what I saw. Celeste is here.”
Mom and Hennie exchanged glances. “There are ways…” Mom said.
Hennie crossed the room to lock the door and turn the sign in the window to Closed. “Let’s have a quick lunch. Maybe you’d like to invite your nice detective to join us.”
Her nice detective was Prosper. After he’d helped her defeat the demon, Jaleel, he’d hung around more than usual. They’d been spending more and more time together. “If you’re including him, you think something’s up. Why would Celeste come to River City?”
Her mom started up the steps to the apartment she and Hennie shared. “Celeste didn’t raise herself, if she’s actually walking and talking again. Someone brought her here, but let’s wait to discuss this until Prosper can join us. Why don’t you run to buy us each a po’boy? Shrimp, for me.”
Babet couldn’t bully her mom into telling her more, she knew, so she gave in gracefully. After she called Prosper, she walked the two blocks to a small, carryout place near the river. It was tucked in an out-of-the way row of buildings, away from tourists, meant for the locals. There was still a long line. Prosper preferred oysters to shrimp, so she ordered accordingly. When she got back with their food, Prosper’s unmarked car was already parked at the curb in front of the shop. She felt like a limp dishcloth, but there was no time to freshen up.
He raised a dark brow when he saw her. His gaze went to the sack of food in her hand, then slanted to the white, sleek bag still dangling under her arm. “Sinful Pleasures?” he asked, reading the shop’s name. “A present for me?”
Babet’s libido had vanished. She tossed him the bag. “You can try them on, if you want.”
Her mother called from the top of the steps. “No time to banter. We have things to talk about.”
Babet and Prosper dutifully trotted up to the apartment.
Mom passed the food around the table, then got right down to business. She told Prosper about Celeste while they ate. Babet could tell that she and Hennie had already hashed over ideas and were none too happy about the outcome.
The Were bear glanced significantly at Babet’s white package, tossed onto a chair, as he swallowed his last bite of oyster po’boy. He shrugged. “This is a new one. A dead witch is walking around River City?”
“Not just any dead witch. Celeste Moonbeam.” Hennie cleared the table.
“But why is she here? How does that work?” He looked to Babet’s mother, the head of River City’s coven and the person who taught younger witches their craft.
“Someone brought her,” her mother said. “Someone powerful.”
“So she was summoned, like Jaleel?” Prosper had helped them fight the demon and return him to his pit.
Mom gave a quick nod. “Voodoo might be able to raise spirits, but not bodies, so that rules out Nadine and Evangeline. If a warlock went to the bother to summon someone, he’d choose a demon.”
Hennie’s lips pressed together. She plopped heavily into her chair. “I hope you’re wrong, Rowan.”
Her mother locked gazes with her old friend. “Can you think of any other explanation?”
Hennie looked away.
“I know how you feel about necromancers, but who else could call a body from its grave?”
“Necromancers?” Babet rubbed her arms. “Are they for real?”
Prosper ran a hand through his sleek, black hair. “What are we talking about exactly? Zombies?”
“No, Celeste will look exactly as she did when she was alive. With the same powers. Black witches’ bodies don’t rot in the dirt. They wait. That’s why most people burn them, so only ashes remain.” Hennie wrinkled her nose. “There are nice necromancers, I suppose, but I haven’t met one. Mostly, they use the dead to achieve their goals.”
Prosper looked nervous now. “And what goals would this necromancer have?”
Mom sighed. “Who knows? But he brought Celeste back for a reason. It’s a long, arduous ritual to call back the dead. Sometimes it takes days, weeks.”
“Can we
send Celeste back?” Babet wasn’t sure how to classify the dead witch now? Was she a walking corpse? Just on vacation from the cold ground? Or was she alive again? “Does her heart beat? Does she think?”
“It’s not going to be easy,” Mom said. “She’s just as alive as she was before. Only this time, the energy to stay that way comes from her necromancer. He’s like the battery she’s getting power from. If he grows tired of her, and releases her, she drops where she is.”
“So if we can’t stop her….” Prosper’s brows knitted together in thought, “…we can stop him—her supplier. Can you tell a necromancer when you see him? What do you look for?”
“He…or she…looks like a normal, everyday person. He won’t be pale, like a vampire. He doesn’t have to keep any unusual hours, but he will leave a magic trail. All magic takes time to dissipate. Still, he won’t be easy to find.” Mom looked to Hennie. “Would he need any unusual supplies to perform his ceremony?”
“None he can’t find himself. Nothing he’d have to buy here. Blood, bones, magic circles, talismans….” Hennie ticked them off on her fingers.
“Human blood?” Prosper asked.
Hennie shook her head. “Any sacrifice will do. Most use cats or chickens. The magic circles are stronger if they’re made from strips of cat skin. And almost all of them use at least one chicken’s foot as a talisman, among other things.”
Babet grimaced. Dirty business. “Any other talismans that might help us?”
“They’re pretty individual,” Hennie said. “There’s usually a crystal of some kind, scattered teeth, and something personal.”
Prosper had heard enough. He stood and went to look out one of the long, narrow windows that led to a small balcony off the kitchen. “Okay, a dead witch dropped into town. A necromancer might have brought her here. What do we do now?”
Mom’s voice was steel. “We start asking around. Anyone who sees Celeste will remember her. She’s stunning. And she’s new here. She’ll stand out. We ask if anyone’s seen her with a friend and what that friend looks like. The coven will help us. We’ll cover as much territory as possible.”
Babet thought about that. “Why not involve everyone possible? I’ll ask Lillith to help and I’ll visit the vampire Emile hired as a P.I.”
Hennie winced at the word vampire. Witches and vamps didn’t cozy up to each other often, but she gave a quick nod. “The more people looking, the better our odds. I’ll ask Nadine to send her spirits into the city.”
Babet shivered. She could picture Manette’s face with its down-turned lips and glittering eyes. That spirit loved prying into other peoples’ business a little too much. “Good. We have a plan.” Mom pushed away from the table. “Let’s get busy.”
A call to action. Babet rose, grabbed her package, and followed Prosper down the stairs. He opened the car door for her. “I’ll give you a lift. It’s too hot to walk in the midday sun.”
She slid in, glad that his car seats were as far back as they’d go. Prosper’s legs were even longer than hers.
He glanced at her shiny, white bag and smiled. “What if we separate for the afternoon and then meet up again around eight-ish? I could drop by your place and we could go over what we learned about the case.”
The case. Police talk. “Are you bringing food?”
“I can do that. Crab cakes and hush puppies?”
She nodded, smiling. “I’ll open the wine.”
He dropped her off at the curb and she opened the wrought iron gate that led to her small, front yard. Her bungalow was painted bright-yellow with a red, front door. Happy colors for a witch. But then again, she was a happy person. She glanced at the arched, front windows. Morgana was coiled on the deep window casement, looking out at her.
When Babet stepped inside, she greeted her familiar. “I thought you’d be napping.”
Morgana usually found a sunny spot in the house and slept this time of day. The huge snake bobbed her head. Her tongue flicked nervously.
Babet went to stroke her chin, to try to calm her. “Are you okay?” The snake could sense her emotions, feel her bond, even when they weren’t together. “You know there’s a problem, don’t you?”
Morgana wrapped herself around Babet’s arm.
“No worries. We’re dealing with it. As a matter of fact, I have to get ready and leave again. I’m hoping to find more answers.”
Morgana tightened her grip.
“You can’t come with me.”
The snake gave her an unblinking stare.
“If I took you, you’d have to stay in the car while I talk to people. Do you know how hot that gets?”
Morgana stared at her with unblinking eyes.
Babet sighed. “Okay, but you’re going to die of heat.” Not really. Snakes loved lying in the sun, baking themselves. And Babet would leave all of the windows cracked, so there’d be ventilation. It was an empty bluff, and Morgana knew it. If a snake could gloat, she was doing it. “Enough already! I said you could come. Now let me get a quick shower and change.”
Morgana unslithered herself from Babet’s arm and went to wait near the back door. Persistent reptile. But Babet would never trick her. They were a team.
After a quick shower, Babet slipped into a sundress and sandals. She took some time to apply her makeup. This wasn’t a formal visit, but she always took care when she visited Lillith. The succubus who ran the most prestigious whorehouse in River City wasn’t someone to be taken lightly. Satisfied she was presentable, she opened the door for Morgana, and they walked to the strip of cement outside their small courtyard where Babet parked her car. Lillith’s lavender Victorian house was close enough to walk, but she’d look like she’d spent time in a steam bath if she hoofed it, so they drove instead.
There was a discreet parking lot behind the building for customers’ cars. At this time of day, it was empty. Babet parked, rolled down the windows for Morgana, and walked to the front of the house to enter the lobby. Opulence greeted her, and so did Colleen. The vampire moved with speed and grace. Her copper curls were pulled into a high tumble, and her vivid, green eyes fastened on Babet.
“Lillith’s expecting you.”
Babet let out an impatient sigh. “How could she know this time? I just saw Celeste.”
A small smile tilted Colleen’s lips. “We’re night creatures. Celeste rarely enjoys the city during the daylight, preferring darkness, like we do.”
That made sense. Celeste wouldn’t want her presence known, if she could help it. There must have been some reason she was mingling with the crowds today.
“Come,” Colleen said, and led Babet up the curving staircase to Lillith’s private quarters.
* * *
Lillith looked as ravishing as usual with her wavy, honey-colored hair framing her perfect face and a low-cut gown displaying ample bosom. Babet hated to admit it, but part of the reason she went to extra effort when she visited here was that sharing the same room with the original succubus could make any woman feel dowdy, even after going to extra bother with hair and makeup. She’d come here once, unprepared, and felt like last week’s leftovers. Never again. Her ego couldn’t survive it.
A young, female vampire sat beside Lillith today. Not the usual vampire girl. Most were unnaturally attractive. This girl was plain to the point of mousey.
Without introductions, Lillith looked at the girl and said, “Virgine, tell Babet about your nocturnal visits along the river walks.”
The girl flushed furiously when Babet turned to look at her and lowered her head.
Lillith sighed. “Virgine’s shy. She usually avoids attention. I keep telling her that we could glamour her up and send her out to clients, but she won’t do it. Has a Cinderella complex. She’d rather scurry around as a servant. Won’t take sips from humans either. Even though some have offered. She’ll only drain strays, lots of rats and cats.”
Babet shook her head. “I don’t understand. Does this have something to do with Celeste?”
; “Virgine.” There was an edge to Lillith’s voice.
The girl looked up, clasped her hands together in her lap, and dove in. “I can always find enough food along the river and in the alleys behind the restaurants that line the walks there.”
Babet could believe that. The city had done its best to make the area a tourist attraction, lining the streets with bricks, installing old-fashioned lamp posts, and planting dozens of flower boxes on shop windows. When it became obvious Virgine wasn’t going to say more, Babet tried to encourage her. “Have you had trouble there lately?”
Lillith slanted the girl a look.
Virgine took a deep breath. “There’s nothing. Something’s wiped out every rat and stray.”
Babet frowned, trying to read some kind of implication into that fact. She came up empty. Turning to Lillith, she said, “I don’t get it.”
It was Babet’s turn to get the look. Lillith shook her head. “You’re a witch. What do witches need to cast dark magic?”
“Oh.” Suddenly, Babet got the point. “Blood.”
Lillith smiled as though rewarding a small child for a job well done. Babet wasn’t fond of playing the part of the slow-witted companion, but she’d earned it this time. Lillith’s expression turned serious. “I know witches who practice black magic use blood, but a witch couldn’t bring back Celeste, could she?”
There was no reason to sidestep the question. “Yes.” Babet’s answer surprised Lillith, she could tell. She hurried on. “But why go to the bother when she could summon a demon instead?”
Lillith narrowed her eyes, considering that. “You’re right. A demon’s more powerful and versatile. So it must be someone who doesn’t have enough magic to control one. Who else can bring a person back in the flesh? Someone besides witches?”
Babet rubbed her arms. Her nerves were getting the better of her. “Hennie and Mom mentioned necromancers.”
