by Angie Fox
He could be lying through his teeth to intimidate me. I'd be overjoyed if that were the case. But there was no mistaking his keen attraction, and worse, his effort to tamp down his excitement.
This was not going according to plan. He was paying far too much attention to my every move. I needed him distracted.
I eased toward the building, and felt the pressure of the wards. They pushed at me, like two polar opposites of a magnet. No big surprise he'd have it well protected. I wasn't getting in there without an invite.
Pade focused his attention on the space near my neck. The priest was besotted. If he were a cat, he'd be purring. "Tell me his name."
"It doesn't matter," I said quickly. I hadn't asked it. I'd ditched that presence in the tower room.
Oh, Elizabeth. A chill slammed through me as the spirit spoke. As if you could leave me behind.
Sweet Jesus. It was in my head now? I locked my shoulders, refusing to give an inch. Hopefully then Pade wouldn't see me shaking. He seemed to grow more enthralled by the second. "I'm here to talk to you," I said to the bokor.
He drew back. "Then you misplayed your hand."
Two guards approached from the sidewalk. I recognized one from the swamp. Each held on to a weapon inside his jacket.
I scrambled hard to think.
"What if my dark presence wants to commune with you?" I asked. I was grasping at straws, and inviting the worst.
This could be a big mistake.
The bokor paused, sizing me up. "You do know he's there," he said slowly, as if he'd caught me in a lie.
"How would I not?" I asked, terrified at the thought.
That's right, how could you not? The spirit echoed in my head. He had gotten to me somehow.
"Let's do this alone. Inside," I added, eyeing the guards.
I could see that I'd tempted him. The bokor tilted his head and removed his hat. "Very well," he said, opening the brightly painted front door for me. As if I'd just walk into a trap. I had a few tricks up my sleeve as well. And the good sense to wait.
I felt the zing of his wards, like needlepoints on my skin as I crossed over the threshold, but I'd been granted permission. I was in.
And the guards were still several yards away. Their mistake.
The bug required a quiet, secret release, but not this next spell. I spun quickly toward the doorway and reached into the back of my utility belt, withdrawing a Ziploc baggie with a twirling black and white striped spell inside. I tore it open. I'd had a good feeling when I borrowed it this morning, even composed a little enchantment to make it mine.
"It won't work here," Pade said, as if it were a matter of pride.
"Thanks for the warning," I said, releasing the live spell in the doorway. It zipped upward like a trapped bottle rocket. I raised my hands quickly and began the enchantment, before the goon squad realized what was happening. "Guard all points." The spell zinged to the bottom of the doorway and up, then back down, and up. It was downright beautiful. "Let no one through." I tried to hide a giddy surge as sparkling, nearly transparent magical bars appeared in its wake. "Except for me." And, yes, I'd planned this part for my new friend. "And the bokor, too."
"Cute," Osse Pade smirked, but his smugness evaporated when he flung a hand out at the bars, only to have it flattened by an invisible barrier. The look on his face almost made me feel sorry for him. But not quite. "Impossible," he seethed.
"Your guards are also asleep," I said, pointing out the two slumping goons by the hearse. Lucky for me, the rest left for the party.
Pade turned to me, barely containing his rage. "You planned this."
"Of course, I did." Silly man. I loved that he underestimated me. And that the magic had worked for me. Spells sometimes went haywire when I tried to use them, but this had been worth the risk. "Let's have some alone time."
"I don't suppose I have a choice." He turned on his heel and stalked through the lobby.
I slipped the bug out of its Ziploc bag and prepared to strike from behind. Then I stopped cold.
Ornate designs in white chalk swirled over the parquet floor of the lobby, reaching toward the edges. I recognized hearts and crosses inside large patterned swirls and geometric shapes. This place was spelled. Not surprising, given the circumstances. Still, I had no clue what these symbols meant, or what they could do to a person.
Osse Pade strode confidently over the marks, shooting me a glance over his shoulder as he did. Great. An unspoken dare.
I clenched my hand. The bug struggled in my grasp, its wings stinging my palm. I may have won this last round, but I'd be a fool to get too cocky.
"I'll stick to the scenic route," I said, keeping to the narrow section of clear floor near the walls. It took longer, given that the room was long and narrow, but I wasn't one for taking unnecessary chances.
I walked tall, past yellow walls streaked with thickly painted images of death. A skeleton in a top hat smoked a cigar while a serpent wound through an empty eye socket. Another appeared to have been skinned alive. It smiled and wore a necklace of bloody fingers.
Classy.
The bokor smirked as he waited for me near an altar at the back. The surface was crowded with bottles of rum, lit candles, playing cards, stuffed animals, candied nuts, even cash tucked into nooks and crannies. "Your master spirit should make you brave," he challenged.
Just the opposite. He scared the hell out of me.
"Who is he?" the bokor pressed.
I stopped in front of him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"You'll tell me eventually," he said, keeping an eye on me as we walked through a wide archway.
The man was on perpetual high alert. I bided my time as we passed into an open brick-walled courtyard. The morning sun shone down over rows of rickety white folding chairs. They lined up in front of a low stone altar, caked with colorful wax. I noted, with a prickle of alarm, that the stone floor sloped gently downward toward a metal drain below the stone slab. Behind it, a raised dais awaited the next coffin.
The open structure of the building made me willing to bet they still had Carpenter out at the swamp. It would be hard to hide a prisoner here. The only other inside space was behind a simple wooden door on the left side. The bokor headed that way.
He slipped a key into the lock, and we entered a dark, narrow room. The cloying scent of incense competed with the musky odor of old death.
He lit a large candle and I soon saw why. The thick red taper sat upon a real human skull. Shreds of leathery skin still clung to the empty nose socket, stained red with dripping wax.
He lit more candles, some in holders, some on low bookcases lining the walls. The shelves held more skulls, as well as framed pictures of individual people, and personal effects like a harmonica, a beat-up flask, and a feathered fan. I also saw leg bones, fingers, all human from what I could tell.
I caught his glance.
"Nice bones," I said.
The candlelight flickered over his sharp features. "My ancestors are close to me."
He said it like a warning. I didn't bite.
In fact, I didn't move at all as he bent and opened a rickety drawer in the old apothecary chest behind him.
Now was my chance. I closed in quick, releasing the bug. It circled toward me for a moment, confused. I swatted it back, praying it wouldn't land on me.
Osse Pade let out a cry and turned, faster than I'd ever seen him move. He had his hand up, fingers pinched, ready to strike.
I met him halfway, making a grab for whatever he was ready to toss at me. The bug buzzed around our heads, as if it couldn't decide whom it wanted to infect.
Just before I could close my hand over the bokor's pinched fingers, he let loose a dash of gray powder. I flinched as if stung and refused to inhale as it fluttered over me.
For a second, we both froze.
Then I shoved him back. He hardly noticed. His eyes were wild, his breath coming in pants. "Now," his voice boomed. His every word was pronounced. "Tell me what you
are."
The bug landed on the side of his neck and melted into his skin as if it had never existed.
I wiped the dust from my nose and cheeks. "I'm a demon slayer." I'd gotten him and he'd gotten me. I gave myself a quick once-over. So far, I wasn't burning, or bleeding. Nothing was falling off. Yet. "You do that again, you'll get a switch star through the head."
He drew his brows together. "There is no such thing as a demon slayer."
"I'm about two seconds away from giving you a demonstration," I snapped. I'd wanted to be more cagey about this, but not if I was under attack. "Now tell me, where'd you put Carpenter?"
He stared at me, his breathing heavy and his manner unsettled. "Don't play games with me, little girl."
"I wouldn't dream of it," I said, advancing on him. He'd attacked me. We weren't pretending anymore. "I saw you take the necromancer."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather bag, similar to the one he'd used in the swamp. His lips curved into a menacing smile. "In the fog, it's hard to tell what you truly see."
I grabbed for it. He avoided my grasp, and damned if I didn't see the bag anymore.
"Cut the bullshit." Yes, the fog had been as unsettling as my dream last night. Maybe I was having trouble telling what was real and what wasn't, but the voodoo bokor had slipped up. He'd brought up the fog and in doing so, he might as well have admitted that I'd walked into his ceremony in the swamp—that I'd seen things I shouldn't. I took hold of his arm and pulled him close enough that my breath whispered against his cheek. I'd rather not think about where I'd suddenly gotten that kind of physical strength. "I know about you, Osse. I was there."
A rivulet of sweat trickled down the side of his face. "You invaded my ceremony. You walked through the spirits of the dead," he added, as if he could hardly believe it himself. He pointed a long, finger at me. "Yet you are not a necromancer."
"No." I agreed, gritting my teeth as I held him tighter. "You tied the necromancer to a post in the ground."
The bokor sneered. "He deserved it."
He shoved away, and I let him go. "Push me and you're going to find out exactly what a switch star is."
I wouldn't kill him. Not if he wasn't attacking. But I'd sure as Hades redecorate his office.
He held his wrist where I'd gripped him, and again, I marveled at my sudden strength. "It's not wise to threaten me when I hold your friend's life in my hands."
He had me there, and it made me angry as hell. I fought the urge to circle him, to surround him. "Did you lure Carpenter there?" I demanded. "Was the black soul in the alligator a way of trapping him? You bled him, you sicko."
His dark gaze held mine. "Sometimes, one must suffer for the greater good."
The bones of the dead rattled on the shelves next to me.
"You used his blood to resurrect a chicken. Then you drove off with him in a boat." I barked out. "I tried to be reasonable. I tried to come here and have a simple conversation with you, but the people I'm with, they want to destroy you." The witches had learned to fight evil without asking questions. Maybe I was a bleeding heart, but I'd been willing to talk. To live and let live. "I'm just trying to get the necromancer back."
His face hardened. "No. Not when he hurts the people I love." He took one deliberate step toward me, then another. "I will fight. I will die for her."
"Who?" I demanded, watching him shut down. He wasn't going to tell me. It didn't matter anyway. "Let my friend go. Stop tangling with black souls, and we'll leave you alone."
"Get out," he ordered. "Leave my church. Leave me in peace."
He was a fine one to talk about peace. "I'll go," I told him. "But I'm on you like a tick until you release Carpenter." And even then, I couldn't make any promises. Not if he tangled with another dark soul.
He stalked toward me, hovered right over me, his forehead slicked with sweat. "Then be like your friend," he challenged. "Test me. Just don't expect to win."
Chapter Eleven
Grandma opened the door while I was still halfway up the porch. A red bandana held her hair back and charcoal smudged her right cheek. "You bug him?"
"Yeah," I said. "He didn't make it easy."
She gave me a quick once-over. "Don't tell me you got hexed."
"Have a little faith," I said automatically. Then again, he had sprinkled that dust on me. From the way he'd acted, I gather it was a truth powder. I held my hands out to the side as I approached her. "Do I look I got hit with something bad?"
She rolled her eyes. "People don't go around looking cursed."
I gave a snort. "You've obviously never seen me hung over."
She rested a hand on her hip, giving me a great view of the new butterfly tattoo on her wrist. "Well, the good news is you'd never make it through my wards if you were a shambling zombie."
"That's why you're in charge," I said, moving past her and into the foyer.
She let me go. "You find out anything at the funeral parlor?"
I let out a long sigh. "Osse Pade is deluded. And powerful."
Grandma groaned. "My favorite kind of guy."
I sprawled onto the settee just inside the door. "He seems to think whatever he's up to is a good thing, but he won't admit where he's keeping Carpenter." I leaned my head back. "I don't think he has him in the city." It would be too much of a risk. "Carpenter still has to be in the swamp somewhere."
I'd tell her later about the spirit that seemed to be hanging around me. I didn't want to give it attention, even in my thoughts. That seemed to be what it wanted, and so far, it hadn't hurt anything. I rubbed at my itchy eyes. Now that I'd reached the relative safety of the house, I realized how tired I was. "I need to lay down for a few minutes."
"Before you fall asleep where you're sitting… Here." She tossed me a round ball the size of a quarter.
I caught it in one hand. It was glittery and blue. Slippery, too. I worked hard to keep hold of it. "What's this?"
She closed the door. "Sneak spell for tonight. Stick it in your bra. Let it warm up to you. It'll work better that way."
"Of, course." I shouldn't be surprised. This was custom biker witch magic. I nestled the charmed sphere down past my bustier top and into my cleavage. "Just so long as it doesn't try anything," I added, eyeing her as the spell wiggled a bit. I jammed it in there tighter.
Grandma grinned. "The way you're built, I'm more worried about the damn thing suffocating."
I had to laugh. "Hey, at least I know where I got the gift."
Grandma didn't know when to quit smiling. "Speaking of things nestling in your cleavage—"
"Are we really going there?"
"Your husband called," she continued, not missing a beat. "He'll be here tomorrow."
Fantastic. I was more relieved than I wanted to admit. "We could really use him." Dimitri was strong and powerful, plus he had a great instinct for getting us out of trouble.
"I didn't tell him you were out chasing down dark voodoo."
He'd assume. Nothing much got past him. "Hopefully, we'll have Carpenter back by the time he gets here." I could wish anyway.
"Grandma nodded. "In the meantime, I've got something to show you." I pried myself off the couch and she ushered me into the living room to the right. About two dozen camouflage backpacks lined up along the pink papered walls.
"More spells?" I asked.
"All packed and set to go. Didn't seem right for me to crash until we had everything ready. And until we had you back. "I told the rest of the coven to head upstairs." We continued toward the dining room in the back. "We need 'em sharp for tonight."
We passed through the arched doorway and I drew up short. "You didn't…"
Grandma looked like the cat who at the canary. "Creely said you'd be speechless."
"I said I hoped." The engineering witch chuckled as she leaned over the big table. "I knew better than to think it would happen."
I scanned the room, amazed. The witches had transformed the place into a war room. Detaile
d topographical maps hung from the walls. I saw weather reports, the star and moon positions. A huge city map spread across the dining table, held straight by spell jars. "How did you get all of this together so fast?"
Sure, Creely had built a trebuchet in an afternoon. She'd taken mere hours to re-configure magical griffin armor into a defense shield for Dimitri's ancestral villa. But that was hands-on. This was…research.
Creely shrugged, the Kool-Aid red tips of her hair brushing her shoulders. "It's my job."
"I'm also shocked you guys are planning," I said. I was being honest, not trying to insult them.
Grandma shared a glance with Creely. "She acts like we can't learn anything new."
The engineering witch huffed. "Good thing we can or we'd still be letting Sneak Spells mingle with Chocolate Cookie Craving Spells. We'll never get all of those back under control."
Creely motioned me over to her position in front of the map. "Now look here. Whatever you said to your voodoo friend must have worked. About twenty minutes ago, he made a beeline out of the funeral parlor and out toward the swamps. See?" She laid a thin silver film over the map and I watched a glowing red line appear. "This is his trail. The guy's a regular speed demon." It went from the French Quarter, down the highway Carpenter and I had taken, out toward the swamps, and it was still moving.
Damn. "You're better than Q in the James Bond novels."
"Of course," she said, "I'm a woman."
"Look here," Grandma said. "He's stopping."
He was. The red bug paused at a lush green spot on the map, surrounded by water.
Grandma paused in front of a map on the wall. "The topographical overlay shows a series of small buildings in the area."
Probably a moonshine shack as well. "That looks close to where we were last night," I said. The small peninsula lay deep in the swamp, yet close enough to skirt a highway.
"You see this road here," Creely said, her finger following a winding tan line through the lush green peninsula, "This is a back way in, so we don't have to try and fit everyone into boats."
