That Voodoo You Do: That Old Black Magic, Book 1

by Jodi Redford

  Oh yes. Griff’s backup plan. As if anyone could keep her out of trouble the way he could. “North Carolina isn’t exactly on the other side of the world. I fully expect you to come visit me in a couple weeks, after I’ve gotten settled back in.”

  “Can you at least wait until Clarissa comes back from town? In fact, why don’t I go call her right now and hurry her ass up?”

  “Fine.” The minute Logan disappeared down the hall she dug in her purse for the keys to the Pathfinder. Feeling like a huge coward, she dashed out the door. She couldn’t handle goodbyes. Not anymore.

  She arrived in the outskirts of Ashville by four o’clock. Downtown was still bustling with activity. Another layer of the heaviness lifted from her heart when she spotted Finnegan’s Hardware. She parked the SUV and was almost to the store’s front entrance when she remembered that half her family would be inside. Well, at least her dad and her cousins Jimmy, Drew and Marshall. Despite wanting to see them all—desperately—going in there with red-rimmed, swollen eyes wasn’t the best course of action. One look at her and her pops would be bawling, which would only lead to her own cry-a-thon. She returned to the car and pointed it in the direction of Griff’s house.

  Less than twenty minutes later she pulled into the drive. A surreal sensation washed over her. Five weeks ago she’d arrived here with the intention of seducing Griff, never realizing the dramatic shift her life was about to undertake. Pulling the key from the ignition, she climbed from the Pathfinder. Inside the house, bittersweet memories leapt out at her. The granite island, where she and Griff first made love and he triggered her magic. The stovetop, where he’d prepared countless meals for them. She wandered into the master bedroom, nearly crunching a shard of mirror. They’d rushed from the house without cleaning up the mess from zombie Harold.

  She backtracked to the kitchen and grabbed a broom from the pantry. Five minutes later the broken mirror pieces were discarded, and she crawled into the bed without removing her suit. The sheets carried Griff’s woodsy scent, and she buried her nose in his pillow, hugging it tight. Sleep came swift and sweet, blessedly free of nightmares.

  The next morning brought reality crashing back. It started with the ringing of her cell phone on the bedside table. Groaning, she grabbed the irritating device and glanced at the caller ID. Her mom. “Oh crap. Busted.” Why else would she be calling at seven a.m. on the dot?

  Biting the bullet, she punched the Talk button. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Jemma Sue Finnegan, is that all you have to say? Hi, Mom?”

  “Um…yeah?”

  “Louise Grossfeld saw you outside the store yesterday, right before you scurried inside Griffin’s car and sped off.”

  Times like this, it really sucked living in a town full of busybodies. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t ready to see any of you guys yet.” Dead silence met her admission, and she bit the inside of her cheek. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I’ve missed everyone. A lot.” Her voice broke and she closed her eyes, the phone pressing into her cheek.

  “Honey, what is it?”

  Her mom’s soft entreaty was Jemma’s undoing. Like a flood bursting through its dam, everything came tumbling out. By the time she’d spilled most of the story, she’d returned to a sobbing wreck. She was also more than a little surprised—but extremely grateful—that her mom took everything like a champ. Hell, it had to be more than a little weird to hear your daughter was the descendant of a psycho voodoo queen and in love with a tiger. Yeah, the tiger part alone would have made anyone else search the Yellow Pages for the nearest loony bin. But not Hannah Finnegan.

  “I’m coming over there.”

  Jemma sat up in the bed and blotted her tear-streaked face with the sheet. “No, I haven’t had a chance to clean up Griff’s place yet. Don’t—” She sighed in defeat when she heard her mom yell to her pops to throw something on other than his ratty tighty whities.

  “We’ll be over within the hour, honey,” her mom promised before hanging up.

  Whipping the sheets aside, Jemma pushed from the mattress. The room suddenly went cockeyed and her stomach rebelled. Oh no. She lurched to the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time. After sending what little contents she had in her belly down the john, she slumped against the vanity with a moan. She was tempted to phone her mom back and tell her to stay put. Not that her mom would let an upset stomach get in the way of her motherly duties. She’d probably only lug along a gallon of chicken noodle soup.

  Jemma clamped a hand over her mouth. Ugh. Why did she have to go and think about food?

  Forty-five minutes later, she was showered and re-suited and feeling significantly better. She even managed to wolf down a couple slices of toast before the doorbell rang. Her mom and dad practically tackled her when she opened the front door. Exchanging hugs and teary kisses, they herded her into the living room. While she filled her dad in on everything, her mom brought in two sacks of groceries and set about fixing breakfast. Jemma smiled tremulously, her world shifting one more inch toward normal. But the void of Griff’s absence remained.

  “You should have told us the truth, Jemma Sue.”

  She bit her lip at the note of censure in her dad’s tone. “I didn’t like lying. About any of it. But I know you guys. I couldn’t risk Nettie using you to get to me.”

  “All right. But that doesn’t explain you keeping us in the dark for the past five weeks.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to tell her dad about the nightmares, the constant fear of never seeing Griff again. He probably could guess the hell she’d been going through. She didn’t need to color a picture for him. Her mom trotted to the couch carrying two plates loaded down with supersized omelets. Jemma took one whiff of the eggs and her stomach pitched. She squeaked an excuse me and bolted for the bathroom. As she was hugging the toilet and wishing for a quick death, her second reality check of the day crashed into her conscience. She did a quick mental calculation between heaving up her guts.

  Oh. Shit.

  Reasonably assured her stomach had decided to behave, she abandoned the toilet and fetched the spare toothbrush from the medicine cabinet. She swung the mirrored door shut and caught her reflection. Other than the dark circles under her eyes and her puffy skin, she looked the same. Could it be? But how? She’d been on the pill. Okay, technically she hadn’t taken it since the night she first seduced Griff, but weren’t they supposed to stay in your system for a while? Then again, maybe the whole magic thing tampered with the pills effectiveness somehow. Not to mention Clarissa’s spell breaker…

  She rubbed her hands over her face, her head spinning. “Okay, there’s one fact I know for certain.” Her damn period was almost three weeks late. She just hadn’t realized it until now. After brushing her teeth, she returned to the living room. Her parents looked worried but thankfully not suspicious of why she’d just spent ten minutes in the bathroom barfing a lung up. “If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to lie down. I made the mistake of eating at that truck stop outside of Raleigh, and I’m pretty sure I got a touch of food poisoning.” Hey, good improv.

  Once she’d scooted her parents out the door and their taillights disappeared from view, she raced to the kitchen counter and scooped up Griff’s key ring. She hopped in the Pathfinder and drove twenty miles out of her way to the drugstore. No way in hell would she buy a home pregnancy test from the local pharmacy. Shit, Mrs. Pendleton would leak the news and have the baby’s name and gender decided before Jemma made it back to Griff’s with the damn test.

  She scoured the shelves of the feminine-product isle, her hands shaking. Clueless which brand was better, she bought one of each. Nervous anticipation made her a basket case during the trip back to the house. Ten minutes later—squatting over a ridiculously tiny piece of plastic—her nerves still hadn’t settled.

  Time became a torment as she paced in front of the bathroom vanity.

  What would she do if that plus mark turned pink? “Wait, it’s supposed to turn pink, right?” She d
ouble-checked the box before resuming her hand-wringing. Was she cut out to be a single mother? Did they have books out there on raising Bengal-tiger quasi-man babies? Aaaagghhh.

  The alarm she’d set on her cell phone buzzed and she jumped. She approached the stick resting on a wad of toilet paper with the same caution a swat team would handle a ticking bomb. A bright pink plus sign stared back at her. Her hand automatically dropped to her belly.

  A baby. She was having a baby.

  Griff’s baby.

  Tears gathered in her eyes, this time brought on by joy. While death had tried to vanquish them, they’d created life. Together. Now she’d have another part of Griff to love and cherish. For always.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  She spent the next three days browsing the internet for cool baby things. Yeah, it was probably premature ordering the Barbie glam vacation house, but it was twenty-five percent off, for crying out loud. You can’t beat deals like that. Logging off the computer in the study, she ventured into the kitchen and tossed a package of popcorn into the microwave. While she watched the bag unfold and expand inside the nuke box, she rubbed her stomach through Griff’s old work shirt and chatted to the baby. She knew it was just fanciful thinking that the tiny glob of cells growing in there could hear her much less understand anything she was saying, but the act brought her comfort.

  The microwave dinged and she yanked out the popcorn. After drizzling on extra butter—hey, she was feeding two now—she curled up on the couch and popped on the television. Her cell phone rang and she rolled her eyes. No doubt it was her mom. The woman had gotten into the habit of calling every other hour since finding out about the baby. Although she couldn’t really complain. Her mom was the one who’d given her the heads up about the Barbie vacation house. She muted the TV and held the phone to her ear. “Let me guess, they’re having a bulk sale on onesies at Carters.”

  “I have no damn idea, sugar.”

  She almost dropped the phone at Logan’s ironic baritone.

  “You still there, Jemma?”

  “Errr, yeah. I just wasn’t expecting…” She nibbled her thumbnail, suddenly ashamed at the way she’d up and ditched him and the others in Savannah. “I—I’m sorry for how I behaved last Friday. I should have said goodbye.” No matter how much it hurt.

  “It’s okay. Now get over to this door and let me in.”

  Her mouth dropping, she swung her gaze in the direction of the entryway. The position of the couch made it impossible to see the windows flanking the doorway, but she craned her neck anyway. “You’re outside. Right now?”

  “Yep. And there’s a raccoon in a spruce giving me the crazy eye. Get your ass over here.”

  “That’s Barney. He’s not rabid. Just missing an eye.”

  “Oh, that explains everything. Get. Your. Ass—”

  “Okay. Sheesh.” She hung up the cell and dropped it on the coffee table. As stated, Logan was waiting on the porch, focus glued to the spruce. “I don’t get it. You’re a wolf. You took down zombies. Yet one-eyed Barney makes you nervous?”

  “Have you seen the needles that come with rabies shots?” Shuddering, he hustled her inside the foyer.

  “Um, I hate to sound rude, but what are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. “You told me to visit.”

  “In a couple of weeks. After I settled in. I clearly remember mentioning that part.”

  “Following direction isn’t my strong suit.” His grin was unrepentant.

  She snorted. “No kidding.”

  “So are you going to invite me in?” Rather than waiting for her permission, he stepped around her and whistled. “Nice digs. Catman’s got good taste.” His swiveled and gave her a wink. “In more ways than one.”

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  “Do I look like the type of guy who’d flirt with a pregnant woman?”

  “Yes, you—” She broke off with a blink. “Wait a second. How did you know?”

  He waggled his brows. What the hell kind of answer was that?

  “Why don’t you throw another bag of popcorn in for me while I grab my stuff?”

  “Your nose is better than Floyd’s at sniffing out food. And what’s this about your stuff?”

  “Didn’t think you’d want me traipsing around here in my skivvies or worse. Or did you?” He gave another of those lecherous eyebrow wiggles he seemed so proficient at.

  “I’m beginning to empathize with Clarissa.”

  His full belly laugh echoing in the entry, Logan moseyed through the doorway. She made a scratching sound on the wood paneling and he jumped, shooting a leery stare in Barney’s direction. Snickering, she crossed into the kitchen and chucked another bag of popcorn in the microwave. She rubbed her belly again. “So what do you think, Little G? Should we let him camp here for a bit? I know it’s just been you and me lately, but your daddy…well, he’s got these strange ideas about us needing protection. And you can’t beat having a werewolf for a guard. Even if he does have a raccoon phobia.”

  The cycle finished on the microwave and she grabbed the popcorn, trying not to burn her fingers on the escaping steam. She heard Logan’s boots approaching on the floor planks. “Okay, if I’m being totally honest, your company won’t be entirely awful. As long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Baby, no way in hell that’s happening.”

  Her stomach flipping, she spun. The bag plummeted from her hands, spilling popcorn everywhere. “Griff.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  There was no more beautiful sight than the woman standing before him. Going along with Logan’s ridiculous prank of having him wait out in the car had just about killed him. He’d needed Jemma in his arms. Now. Not waiting another second, he hoofed it across the floor, the scattered popcorn crunching beneath his feet. He swept her into his arms, his mouth devouring hers. She finally broke from her spell of shock and flung her arms around his neck. He swallowed her soft sob.

  The reality of Jemma was a million times sweeter than the memories that’d sustained him for the past five weeks. He rained kisses all over her face, his hands touching every part of her he could reach. She was everything he’d clung to, everything that’d kept him alive. Sane. He nuzzled the crook of her neck, drunk on her scent. It was sharper than usual, spiked with an intoxicating…

  He jerked his head up and stared at her before lowering his focus to her stomach. A warm glow of joy bursting in his chest, he traced the soft curve of her belly. “You’re…pregnant?”

  She gaped at him. “How did—?” Her eyes narrowed. “That dang Mrs. Pendleton.”

  “No, those dang pheromones. I can smell all that loving nurture your body’s providing our little baby boy.”

  “Uh, boy?” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Looks like Barbie’s vacation home will have to become GI Joe’s super plush yet totally macho command center.”

  He laughed and hugged her close before kissing the tip of her nose. “Baby, I’ve missed you more than you could possibly imagine.”

  She stroked his jaw. “No, I can imagine. These past five weeks have been hell. I was beginning to lose hope that the guild would return you to me.”

  “We have Logan to thank for that.” He chuckled at her look of disbelief. “I know. Pretty much my same reaction.”

  “How?”

  “Apparently he was making Domino nervous with the way he was suddenly sniffing around her daughter, Marabella. He made Domino an offer she couldn’t refuse—Marabella’s prized virginity intact in exchange for my freedom.”

  “Wow. Talk about playing hardball.”

  “Yep. Marabella isn’t too happy to be on the losing side of the equation. Word has it she had a hankering for some legendary werewolf lovin’.”

  “Let me guess. That came straight from the wolf’s mouth.” She shook her head with a grin. “His ego truly knows no bounds. Still, I suppose I owe him everything for bringing you back to me.”

  He growled. “You are not repeating tha
t to him. Understood? I don’t want him thinking he can weasel payback from you.”

  Her lips brushed his, her tongue teasing along the rim. “Mm, not a chance. There’s only room in my bed for Stan. And maybe a tool belt.”

  A groan escaped him. “Baby, what am I going to do with you?”

  “Love me?”

  “Always.” He sealed the promise with a hungry kiss.

  She pulled back, her expression devilish. “Speaking of tool belts…”

  “Sorry, no can do. It’s in my locker at the store.”

  “No problem.” She wagged her fingers and his clothes disappeared, leaving him wearing only his tool belt. “I’ve been practicing.”

  Her mischievous giggle proved his downfall. Tipping her into his arms, he strode to the bedroom. “Baby, remember that tongue bath you were begging me for?”

  Desire flushed her cheeks pink. “I think I’m going to like having a tiger in my bed.”

  He kicked the bedroom door shut with a meowww that earned her laugh. Then he went about showing her firsthand just how right she was.

  Epilogue

  Seven had never been Clarissa Miles’ lucky number. For that reason alone, she stared at the return address on the snowy white envelope resting in her hand with a mounting sense of dread. Seventy-seven west Seventh Street. How fucking ironic could life get?

  She got her answer five seconds later when Logan sauntered into the library. Great, another complication she couldn’t deal with right now. “I’m busy. You’ll have to come back later.”

  “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”

  She tracked his approach with wary expectancy. “Logan, I mean it.”

  “So do I.” His mouth slammed over hers, stealing her breath. The same electric sizzle she’d experienced in the kitchen all those nights ago returned with blazing intensity. Her nipples tightened and she clawed at the arms of her chair to keep from touching him. Because if she gave in to that longing…