Authors: Judith Post
Tags: #urban fantasy, #fantasy, #witches, #demons, #necromancer, #shapeshifters, #voodoo, #shifters
“And this one prefers men to women,” Babet
said.
Prosper smiled. “In that case, I’ll be here
when you get back. I’ll bring the crab cakes I promised, and you
can tell me what you learned.”
“Crab cakes.” Babet licked her lips. “Works
for me.”
Prosper pried himself off the couch. “I have
a pile of paperwork waiting for me at the station.” He glanced at
Morgana, expecting the snake to show sympathy. No such luck. The
boa didn’t even budge. It had been a long, hot day. She’d lost
interest in them. “See you tonight.”
Babet smiled as she watched him walk toward
the door.
He turned, caught her, and frowned. “What’s
the deal?”
“Just enjoying the view. Your backside’s
pretty glorious.”
He laughed, ducked out the door, and drove
away. She wandered into the kitchen. She decided to make a salad to
go with tonight’s crab cakes. Partly, because it sounded good.
Partly, because when she was restless, cooking helped settle her
nerves.
By the time an antipasto salad marinated in
the refrigerator, she felt better. They were making progress.
Tonight, she’d visit Vittorio and hopefully, vamps would help them
scour the city to look for their new arrival. Vamps could cover a
lot of distance in a short time. Once they found their necromancer,
they could decide what to do about him.
The sun didn’t set until after ten in the
summer. Babet was struggling to keep her energy up and was less
than enthusiastic about venturing outside again. Even in the
gathering dusk, the city was warm and muggy.
“Quit being a baby,” she told herself and
headed to the door. Morgana raised her head and lowered it again.
The damn snake was staying inside where it was cool. Grumbling,
Babet walked toward the artsy area of the city to find Vittorio.
Cars lined the streets. People milled on the sidewalks. She’d made
the right choice. There wasn’t one parking space to be had.
She turned onto Granite Boulevard and headed
to the brick building with the huge dragon painted on its front
bricks. A popular tattoo design. There were no windows on the
bottom story—only two, long, narrow windows on the second floor.
Vamps didn’t love sunlight. The sign on the door read Open, so she
let herself in.
Vittorio scowled when he saw her. The
customer he was working on scowled too. They both sniffed. “Witch,”
Vittorio growled.
The young Latino getting a tattoo looked her
up and down. He smiled, sprouting fangs. “Do they taste good?”
“You won’t live long enough to find out.”
Babet turned her attention to Vittorio.
The Latino must be newly changed because he
sprang from his chair and flew toward Babet’s neck before she could
blink. She muttered a spell, and he flew across the room and hit
the back wall hard enough to knock the air out of him. He slumped
on the floor and blinked up at her. “How did you do that?”
“She’s a witch, idiot!” Vittorio shook his
head. “He’s still young. Has a lot to learn. Wants MOMMA tattooed
on his arm.”
Babet took the time to study him. Probably in
his late twenties when he was drained. She wondered who’d sired
him, but wasn’t interested enough to ask. Whoever it was hadn’t
taken the time to teach him much. “It’s tough learning the ropes.
Here’s some advice, though. Witches won’t attack you, but you won’t
survive if you attack them. Only old, powerful vampires are a
threat to us.”
The kid gave a quick nod, picked himself off
the floor, and returned to his seat.
Vittorio raised an eyebrow. “Are you done
coddling him? I’m thinking you came here for a reason. Unless you
want a tat, too.”
She hesitated. Was he being witty? She looked
at his low slung jeans, bare upper body—muscled and covered in ink.
Nope, no way. Word play wasn’t his strong point. She got down to
business. “A necromancer’s come to River City. I want to find
him.”
Vittorio put down his tattoo machine. “That
might explain it.”
“Explain what?”
He ran a hand through his shoulder-length,
sandy-colored hair. “I never drain anyone, okay? I have plenty of
mortals who want me to drink from them. The vamp high. You know.
But there’s a vamp in town who loses it once in a while and has to
hunt. He was stalking the river walk and this girl comes flying out
from between some buildings. He takes her down. Empties her. She
should be dead. But before he leaves, she opens her eyes, pushes
herself to her feet, and takes off again.”
Babet raised an eyebrow. He’d added
everything up really fast. He was probably a better P.I. than she
thought.
He spread his hands in a careless gesture.
“What can I say? Playing dumb works in my favor more often than
not.”
“I know better now. You can save your shtick
for someone else.”
He gave a quick nod. “But what do you think?
Was the girl raised by the necromancer? If you kill a dead person a
second time, can he raise her again?”
“He can raise his chosen as often as he has
the energy to empower them.” Babet chewed on her bottom lip,
thinking. “Did your friend say what the girl looked like? Did she
have white-blond hair?”
Vittorio gave a pointed look to his client.
“Well? Was she a blonde, Jesus?”
Babet’s hands went to her hips. She glared.
“You killed a girl?”
Jesus looked down, avoiding her gaze. “I
fight for control every day, but I’m new. It’s hard.”
“Your sire did a shitty job of training
you.”
“He was new too. He didn’t survive very
long.”
So that was the reason Jesus had so little
control. “Won’t someone adopt you? Work with you?” Babet asked.
Jesus tilted his head toward Vittorio. “He’s
agreed to take me under his wing, to help me out. He’s not thrilled
about it, but at least, I finally have a protector.”
Babet frowned. Why did a new vampire need a
protector?
Vittorio’s shoulders sagged. “Playing
nursemaid to a newbie isn’t going to help my reputation, but new
vampires don’t last long in our world. Older, stronger vamps can
challenge them, take their strength.” He placed a possessive hand
on Jesus’ shoulder.
Babet narrowed her eyes. The gesture looked
more reassuring than sexual. “Are you really gay?”
Vittorio threw back his head and laughed.
“Yup, and that will help me. I can tell everyone that I like my new
lovers young and inexperienced.” He nodded toward Jesus. “He’s
straight, but no one needs to know that. Later, when he’s stronger
and smarter, he can say his tastes changed. Vamps do that. No one
will question it.”
The vampire world was different than her own.
Witches banded together to protect their young. Babet admired
Vittorio for his efforts, but she was getting off track. She
returned to the subject of necromancy. “Okay, what about the girl
Jesus drained? What did she look like?”
“Flaming red hair,” Jesus said. “A nose to
remember, hooked on the end. And on the plump side.”
“Not Celeste Moonbeam then.” Babet sighed.
“Virgine thought more than one dead witch was called back.”
Vittorio asked, “Are these good witches or
bad ones?”
“The worst.” Babet rubbed her forehead,
trying to sort through her worries. She licked her lips. “Jesus
drained his witch. Does that give him any power over her?”
Vittorio nodded.
“If I were him, I’d stay close to home for a
while. The necromancer won’t want to share his pull on her. He’ll
see Jesus as a problem, and there’s an easy way to deal with
it.”
“Eliminate me?” Jesus gulped. “I already have
enough trouble trying to survive.”
“Then stay here. Don’t go to the river walk
to hunt.”
Vittorio gave him a stern look. “I can
protect you from vampires. When they learn that I’m sponsoring you,
they’ll leave you alone. But I can’t help you with witches.”
Babet threw another assessing look Vittorio’s
way. “How old are you anyway?”
He smiled. “You have your secrets. I have
mine. But I’ll spread the word. If any witches are prowling the
river district, I’ll let you know.”
“I have one more question. Did you really try
to look for Evangeline for Emile?”
His brow rose. “You witches are a prickly
lot. Charm doesn’t go far with you. You close ranks.”
“You had two strikes against you. You’re a
vampire, and we all hated Emile.”
“I gathered that.” He shrugged. “I do much
better in my own world.”
She believed him. There was much more to
Vittorio than his beautiful body and colorful tattoos.
On the walk home, she thought about
everything she’d learned. If the necromancer had called up two dead
witches, had he called up more? And what did he need them for? On a
whim, she dialed her mother’s number. She told her what she’d
learned and described the witch that Jesus had drained.
Her mother immediately said, “Tamber Grisly.
The Dark Ages. Notorious for her cruelty.”
It was still uncomfortably warm and humid,
but Babet shivered. “Worse than Celeste?”
“She makes Celeste look like a puppy.” Her
mother paused. “Did you say this Jesus was a new vampire?”
“Yes.”
“He’s marked now. He won’t be undead long.
He’ll be real dead.”
Babet didn’t know how to respond. Surely
there was something they could do to protect him.
Her mother went on. “Strengthen all the wards
on your house and yard. Wear protective charms when you go
anywhere. Come to the school tomorrow night. Make it seven. I’m
calling the coven together.”
The phone went dead. When Mom thought of
something, she followed through on it. She’d be calling each member
of the coven now.
When Babet reached her bungalow, light
spilled from its front windows. She saw Prosper moving in the
kitchen. She’d given him a key to her place, but no drawer or
closet space yet. He came to greet her when she let herself in,
took one look at her face, and said, “Tell me over dinner.
Everything’s better with hush puppies.”
She smiled. He was good at sorting through
facts so that they didn’t loom quite so large over her. Morgana
slithered to follow her, and they settled in the kitchen. It wasn’t
until they’d finished their meal that she remembered the salad in
the refrigerator. Oh, well, it could wait. She’d eaten and told
Prosper everything she’d learned…again. He’d listened carefully,
then said, “It’s time to find our necromancer before he gets too
strong. I won’t send my men out, looking for him. They wouldn’t
stand a chance. But what if you and I poke around the river
district before you meet with your mom?”
They settled on the couch and she nestled
into him. “Will we stand a chance if the witches see us?”
“No, that’s why we’re doing lookout, not
mounting an assault.”
She nodded. She was ready to do something,
even if it was only looking for a needle in a haystack of rundown
buildings.
He pulled her closer. “What if I spend the
night? I’ll go into work in the morning and leave to get you around
ten. We’ll do drive-bys when it’s nice and bright outside and
people are wandering the streets. You can smell magic in the air if
you get close enough to it, right?”
“I have to be really close if they’re not
practicing. It will just be a whiff. I could miss it.”
“We’ll do our best.” He bent to kiss the top
of her head. “You’re tired. Let’s go to bed.”
“I’m not in the mood….”
He didn’t let her finish. “To sleep, Babs.
This isn’t the night for a romp. I just like lying next to
you.”
She blinked. Damned, she was getting attached
to the Were bear.
He smiled, and she knew he knew. “There’s
nothing like a bear to sleep with. Cuddly and protective.”
“Quit the cute stuff. I’m tired.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Brush
your teeth before you crash. Your breath smells like shit.”
The reality check got her moving. The bear
knew how to push her buttons. And she liked that.
Babet didn’t hear Prosper get up and leave
the next day. By nature, she wasn’t a morning person. After all,
she was moon driven. All witches were. Late hours stimulated her. A
full moon filled her with energy. But most people worked on
regular, mortal time, and she did her best to accommodate them.
By the time Prosper came to pick her up, she
was showered, dressed, and ready to go. Morgana followed her to the
door. Babet looked at Prosper. He shrugged. “Why not?”
The snake came with them.
Prosper followed the river road to the last
fragments of the city, then started zigzagging in and out of
neighborhoods, making his way back to town. Morgana lay on the back
of Babet’s head rest, her head nodding at the open window, her
tongue flicking in and out as she scented her surroundings.
It wasn’t until they were in the closest
ghetto to the city that both Babet and Morgana sat up straighter,
inhaling deeply. Prosper slowed and pulled to a curb. “What is
it?”
“Magic’s in the air.” Babet wrinkled her
nose. “Black magic.”
“Can you tell where it’s coming from?”
Prosper looked at the houses running for blocks and blocks. Peeling
paint, sagging porches, and trash-filled yards stretched for as far
as they could see. A cat curled on a front stoop close by. It
raised its head and glared at them.
Babet shook her head. “The scent’s not strong
enough. More like a hint.”
“Do you think the magic happened here?”
Prosper asked.
“No, it started here, but it finished
somewhere else.”
“That’s what you said when we walked through
Emile’s house together.”
“And I was right. Evangeline took his nail
clippings and hair to put in her wax doll.”
Prosper sighed. “But we’re in the right
neighborhood?”
Both Babet and Morgana nodded.
Prosper glanced at his watch. “It’s
two-thirty. What if I drive you home, let you do your thing while I
go back to the station, and then I’ll take you for supper before we
go to your mom’s for the coven meeting tonight?”