Authors: Judith Post
Tags: #urban fantasy, #fantasy, #witches, #demons, #necromancer, #shapeshifters, #voodoo, #shifters
The toast stopped on its way to Prosper’s
mouth. He narrowed his eyes, considering the idea. “Now that’s
another story.”
Babet glanced outside her kitchen’s French
doors into the courtyard behind her house. Surrounded by brick
walls, it provided privacy she cherished, unlike her front yard
that was a few steps away from the city sidewalk. “Where does
Marcel live?”
Evangeline sighed. “I don’t know. He and Ines
never see each other. He’s afraid to come to our settlement, and
she never goes to him.”
Prosper rubbed his chin. “How old is
Marcel?”
“How old are any of us? Age is relative to
our kind, isn’t it?” Evangeline gazed at her reflection in the
glass of the French doors. A spitting image of her dead father, the
dark warlock, Emile, with raven black hair and cobalt-blue eyes.
Fair skin, unlike her mother’s—the voodoo priestess, Nadine.
Her answer made Babet think. “Does Marcel
have Juju of his own?”
“Magic runs in his blood,’ Evangeline said,
“but he’s too lazy to practice it. He leaves that to his
women.”
Prosper finished his coffee and pushed away
from the table. “We have enough to get started. I’m going to try to
find Marcel.”
Babet and Evangeline stood too. Evangeline
followed Prosper toward the front door. “I’ll tell my mother what
we think. She’ll help us look for him.”
Babet headed to the sink to rinse their
dishes and mugs. “I need a shower. Then I’ll stop at Mom and
Hennie’s shop. Witches don’t know much about Juju, though.”
“Are you afraid of it?” Worry tinged
Evangeline’s voice.
“Our charms protect us. You have charms now,
don’t you?”
Evangeline held up her right hand with the
ring Babet had magicked for her firmly placed on her pinkie. Even
at a distance, Babet could see all of the spells she’d embedded on
its silver surface.
“Then you have no worries,” Babet told her.
She walked to the front room to wave them away.
Evangeline smiled. “I’m starting to love
being part of two worlds. Most of the time.”
“I know the feeling.” Babet thought about the
new power that surged through her in moments of stress when her
succubus powers sprang to life, catching her by surprise. A gift
from her father.
Evangeline locked gazes with her. “Yes, you
do. It’s nice having someone to share this with.”
“Ditto.” Babet’s gaze slid to Prosper. She
watched him get in his car. She was sharing more and more all the
time. And, if she was honest with herself, she’d never been
happier.
* * *
Babet wasn’t in any hurry. Prosper and
Evangeline both had better chances of finding information than she
did. She decided to start a supper to have waiting for Prosper when
he returned tonight. Then she’d walk to her mom and Hennie’s
shop.
Prosper had a fondness for muffuletta. Babet
started on the olive salad, combining green and kalamata olives,
garlic, chopped cauliflower, and capers before adding the other
ingredients. She split a round loaf of bread and spread the mixture
on the bottom half before layering meats and cheeses on top. When
she finished the assembly, she wrapped the sandwich tightly with
plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator for the flavors to
marry. Happy with herself, she grabbed her purse, ready to set off
for her mom’s. Today, she wore a short skirt and matching tee,
striving to look a little more put together than usual among the
throng of tourists.
Morgana followed her out onto the patio, then
slithered into the lush foliage to hunt. No food and water bowls
for her. The snake provided for herself.
Leaving Morgana to find her lunch, Babet
walked into the city. She passed crystal shops, voodoo dens, and
storefronts offering Tarot and palm readings before turning onto
the side street that catered to real witches. She lingered in front
of a window that displayed a satin, deep-blue nightgown decorated
with shiny, slivers of moons—a negligee worthy of bedroom spells.
She was considering buying it when a tingle of magic passed her.
Not witch magic. Something else.
She turned to see a young woman hurrying
toward Magic Avenue. A leather strip bobbed around her neck with a
talisman at its end. A Juju charm? The woman was an attractive
Hispanic with big, dangly earrings and red lipstick. Babet followed
her until she ducked into the back entrance of a palm-reading shop.
Babet strolled past its plate glass window and saw the girl take a
chair, reach for the hand of a tourist, and point toward a line on
her palm. She must work there.
Babet decided to go back to the store later.
It wouldn’t hurt to talk to the girl. But first, she went to Mom
and Hennie’s.
She found both women crawling on the floor,
trying to capture round charms that had escaped from an apothecary
jar and were rolling everywhere. Babet sank to her knees and joined
in the rescue. When every charm in sight was back in its glass
case, Mom finally said, “Hey, kid, perfect timing. Good to see
you.”
“I’m here on business.” Babet told them about
Evangeline’s visit and Ines’ disappearance.
Hennie tucked strands of snow white hair back
into her bun and blinked. “There was blood?”
“In one spot. Nowhere else.”
“Her abductor probably hit her on the side of
the head and knocked her out before he dragged her somewhere.” Mom
went to sit on one of the stools at the store’s counter.
“The marks led to the river,” Babet said.
“And the other woman was dragged to a bog.”
Hennie’s lips pressed together in a tight
line.
Mom raised a brow. “The owls have come to
visit us twice.”
“About what?” Every witch took owls
seriously, including Babet. Athena’s sacred birds symbolized
wisdom.
“They tell us there’s a monster who lives in
the swamps.”
“A monster?” Babet stared. What would an owl
consider see as a monster?
Hennie added, “It only comes out at
night.”
Okay, that was weird. Babet pursed her lips,
thinking. “I don’t suppose they can describe it.”
“A man-shaped, moving plant,” Mom said.
“Really?” What the heck would that be? Maybe
Athena’s sacred birds had been partying a little too much lately.
Babet shook her head. Not likely. Artemis and Athena weren’t
frivolous goddesses.
Mom and Hennie directed their gazes to her.
“Someone should probably check it out.”
Babet shook her head in protest. “You mean
me. This sounds more like a voodoo or Juju problem.”
Her mom waved a hand in dismissal. “You’re
the one who came here, looking for answers. We gave you one. Do
what you want with it.”
Babet knew her mom was playing mind games
with her. Mom took Ines’ disappearance as seriously as she did. So
did Hennie. But she also knew they were going to be sitting in
their apartment upstairs tonight, while she was probably going to
be pacing some river bank, cussing, playing at doing a stake-out
with Prosper and Evangeline.
Hennie saw the resignation on Babet’s face
and smiled. “That’s our good girl.”
Like hell. She’d been had, and she knew it.
“I’ll let you know what we find.”
“Tell the owls thank you for us,” Mom said as
Babet grumbled her way out the door.
She stood in the warm, humid air—not as bad
as summer—and tried to decide what to do next. She found herself
heading to the palm reading shop.
* * *
The young woman was rearranging a display
inside a glass case. She looked up when Babet entered the shop.
A big smile. “Can I help you?”
She was a pretty girl—wavy, brown hair;
sparkling brown eyes; and a heart-shaped face. Babet tried not to
sound apologetic. “I came to ask you about Juju.”
The girl gave a quick shake of her head. “No.
I don’t talk about that.”
“Delphine has disappeared. So has a girl
named Ines. Both knew a man named Marcel. Can you help us find
them?”
“Marcel?” Her hand nervously went to her
necklace. “What does Marcel have to do with any of that?”
“Both women disappeared in the middle of the
night.”
Color drained from the girl’s face, but she
didn’t give up easily. “Marcel doesn’t need any other woman but
me.”
“We just want to ask him questions, to see if
he knows anything that might help us find them,” Babet said.
The girl’s chin jutted forward. “He’s been
playing around, hasn’t he? That’s why he hasn’t been to my place
for eight nights.”
“I honestly don’t know. We just need to
question him.” Babet looked at the necklace. She was close enough
to see that it was a leather strip with an evil eye protection
amulet dangling from it. “Who gave you that?”
“Marcel.”
“Was he worried about you?”
The girl laughed. “No, he said it was just
something pretty he saw and it made him think of me.”
“When did he give it to you?”
The girl’s eyes widened. Temper flashed, and
at first, Babet thought she wouldn't answer her. But finally, she
said, “Two nights before he quit coming to my house.”
Babet nodded. “He wanted to keep you
safe.”
“From what?” She was worried now, Babet could
tell.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
The girl scribbled an address on a piece of
paper. “He was staying with a buddy.” She blushed. “It was just a
stopping-off point on his way to work or my place.”
“Marcel works?” Babet couldn’t hide her
surprise. In her mind, he was a grifter, living off of others.
Anger flashed brighter in the girl’s dark
eyes. “I know what they say about him, but he’s changed.” She gave
Babet the name of a crew on the docks. “He puts in long days there.
It’s hard, hot work.”
“Thank you.”
“If anything’s happened to him….” Her voice
trailed off. “I want to know.”
Another nod. “I’ll be back. I’ll tell you.”
Babet left the store, more worried than before. If Marcel gave this
girl an evil-eye charm, he was afraid something might happen to
her. Maybe the same thing that happened to Delphine and Ines.
The address wasn’t within walking distance.
Babet picked up her pace on her way back to her house and found
Morgana sunning herself on the paving stones on the patio, with a
large lump bulging her midsection—gross—hopefully a rat, not a
squirrel—the snake knew better than to eat pets. “I’m taking the
car to look for a house not far from here. Want to come?”
Morgana lifted her head, wobbled it, and
returned to her prone position.
Babet sighed, fetched her keys, and headed
west—past the city and surburbs to a small town of scratch farmers
who grew okra, soybeans, cotton, and rice. The address Marcel’s
girlfriend had given her was on the far side of town, a rundown
house with a sagging porch and peeling paint.
Babet pulled into the driveway and walked
toward the back door. A dog lay on the back stoop, an oversized
mutt of indistinguishable color—maybe brown, maybe just dirty. It
raised its head and whined, tried to stand and huffed back down to
the ground.
“You okay, boy?” Babet studied it warily. Was
it hurt? It tried to raise its head a second time. Couldn’t, it was
too weak.
She looked at the kitchen door, hanging on
its hinges. A blast mark blackened its center. Magic. She scooted
past the dog and stepped inside the house. The kitchen table was
overturned. Chairs were thrown to the far corners. Dirty glasses
were toppled and broken. It looked as though a dirt devil hit the
room. And vines were growing everywhere, clinging to the kitchen
cabinets and dangling from the overhead light. Babet inhaled. The
kitchen smelled like the rich, moist foliage of a jungle.
She started to the refrigerator, cracked it
open and sniffed at a plate of leftovers. Still tolerable. She was
carrying them out to the dog when she heard a muffled sound coming
from the basement. She gave the dog its food, then returned to the
house, went to the door that led to the cellar, and raised both
arms, ready to shoot energy. “Open,” she whispered, and the door
creaked wide. A man fell forward, on his knees, and began to cry in
relief.
“Are you all right?” Babet didn’t approach
him. He looked healthy enough, but maybe a little delirious.
“I thought it would be weeks before someone
came looking for me,” he finally said. “Thank you, lady, whoever
you are.”
She helped him stand. “What happened
here?”
He rubbed a hand across a knot on his
forehead. “Damned if I know. I heard a car pull in the drive,
yelled to Marcel that we had company. The next thing I knew, I was
walking in the kitchen to open the door and a blast knocked me
clean across the room.” He touched the knot again. “Must have
knocked me out. I woke up on the dirt floor of the cellar, and no
matter what I did, I couldn’t get this stupid door to open.” He
kicked at the basement door.
“Someone sealed it with magic,” Babet told
him.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Then how did
you open it?”
“I’m a witch.”
He started to back up. “Now look here, woman,
I don’t know what Marcel did to make y’all mad, but I had
nothing….”
Babet didn’t let him finish. “I came here
looking for him. Two women went missing. I thought he might know
something.”
The man grabbed a toppled chair, put it
upright, and sank onto it. He gazed at the foliage that filled his
kitchen. “Dad gum, this ain’t fair. This is my house. I didn’t do
nothing to nobody. She must have taken Marcel.”
“You saw her? You know it’s a woman we’re
looking for?”
He shook his head. “Nope, but when I think of
magic, I think of women.”
“Did whoever it was leave you to die?” Babet
looked at him. He looked a lot better than his dog did.
“Nah, I have a freezer down there and all
kinds of canned goods, but I didn’t much like being stuck there for
days.”