Authors: Judith Post
Tags: #urban fantasy, #fantasy, #witches, #demons, #necromancer, #shapeshifters, #voodoo, #shifters
Hennie’s usual cheerful expression turned
serious. “You don’t want to mess with the person who killed
him.”
Babet couldn’t hide her surprise. “You know
who killed him?”
“I know the girl. I can guess what happened.
If I’m right, he deserved it.”
“Hen, I need more information. You know
that.”
Hennie pursed her lips. She sat, deep in
thought, for several minutes. “If it was anyone but you….” She
reached for her cell phone. “Mortals, we can deal with. Vampires
had better stay out of our way. But if Lillith’s involved, maybe it
would be better to get this matter settled.” She shielded the phone
with her hand and spoke quickly and softly. When she flipped it
shut, she said, “Evangeline’s on her way. When she gets here, we’ll
take you to meet her mother. Then you’ll understand.”
Hennie’s tone made a shiver slide up Babet’s
spine. Hennie didn’t spook easily. Whoever Babet was about to meet
must be intimidating.
* * *
Evangeline didn’t come to the front door. She
knocked at the back of the shop instead. Hennie cracked the door
and hurried her inside.
When Babet saw her, she gulped in a long
breath of air. The girl had the same pale irises rimmed with black
that Emile had and the same narrow, oval-shaped face. Her hair was
a mass of pitch black waves. Her lips were full and sensuous. Babet
glanced at Hennie. “Did Emile have a daughter?”
The word on the street was that Emile
bespelled himself so that he’d be without progeny, so that no
offspring could grow and challenge him.
“His magic couldn’t overpower my mother’s,”
Evangeline said. “Their meeting was a spontaneous, impetuous
affair. She assumed she’d be pregnant free. She assumed wrong, and
she’s always told me that it’s the best mistake she ever made.”
Babet smiled. So did Hennie. Babet couldn’t
help asking, “What kind of magic does your mother practice?” She
couldn’t imagine anything stronger than Emile’s.
“She’ll tell you herself. Come. I’ll take you
to her.”
Babet and Hennie left the shop with
Evangeline. They climbed into her mini-van and rode toward the
river. Babet couldn’t help wishing she’d worn something more
rugged—like jeans and a T-shirt—in case she had to run. But she was
with Hennie. Between the two of them, they’d be hard to beat.
She was surprised when they turned south
before the bridge and followed the river to the swamplands. She
tried to think. She didn’t know of any supernaturals who lived out
here. After a while, a small community came into view—a small town
for mortals. Evangeline pulled to the curb in front of a
shotgun-style house, a two-story that was long and narrow. It was
painted deep orange with black trim. Babet’s thoughts turned to
pumpkins and Halloween. But every house was splashed with bright,
bold colors with dark trims. It made the town look almost
surreal.
Evangeline flew up the sidewalk to the front
steps, and a tall, slender woman stepped onto the porch. She was so
pale, she made vampires look like they tanned. Her eyes were so
dark, Babet couldn’t distinguish the irises from the pupils. But
she was mesmerizing. There was a dark, stark beauty about her that
Babet couldn’t explain. No mortals were this striking. A prickling
feeling made the goosebumps rise on her arms, and she looked up and
down the street.
Every porch had a female standing on it, and
all of them were watching Hennie and her. Most folded their arms
across their chests, as if holding their powers in check.
Babet tore her gaze away from them and
started up the steps to join Evangeline. She jumped, startled, when
one of the snakes painted on the black, porch columns writhed to
life. It extended its head toward her, and Hennie whispered, “Let
it smell you. It can tell if you’re good or evil.”
The snake’s tongue darted in and out, nearly
touching her flesh. She narrowed her eyes, watching it. If it tried
anything, its venom was nothing compared to her magic.
The snake stretched its head further, begging
her to rub its chin. She stroked a finger along its neck, and it
slithered up her arm and coiled itself on her shoulders.
“Morgana likes you,” Evangeline’s mother
said. Her voice was like liquid, a trickle of smooth cadences. Who
was she? What was she?
Hennie made the introductions. “Babet,
Nadine. Nadine, Babet.”
Babet sniffed. No scent that she recognized.
Not supernatural. Not mortal. What the hell were these people?
The woman smiled. “Your magic is alien from
ours. You claim energy from earth, wind, water, and fire. We claim
ours from the spirit world.”
Babet frowned. “You mean like….the dead?”
“When life ends, energy transforms. We claim
some of it for ourselves.”
“Is there a name for that?” Babet was
struggling to understand.
“Voodoo.”
Babet’s nerves tingled to life. “But I
thought….” She wasn’t sure what she thought. Mostly, that voodoo
was only a myth, but she should know better. Most mortals scoffed
at magic too.
Evangeline’s mother motioned up and down the
street. Black women, Hispanic women, women of all ages, sizes, and
colors stood on their porches. “Any magic grows stronger with time,
the more you learn, the more you experience.” She beckoned with her
fingers, and mists swirled around them. Babet could swear that
there were faces in the smoky vapors. “Many spirits abide near me
now. Some good.” A woman’s face, pleated with wrinkles, formed and
smiled. Nadine waved that spirit away and called forth another.
This woman’s lips turned down at the corners in a grimace. “Some
not so good. The good lift me. The bad taint me.”
Babet frowned. “I avoid black magic.”
“Yes, you would. Such an innocent, little
witch. Your rules, not ours, but life is balance—is it not?”
“And Emile?”
“A fling. A moment. The meeting of two
magics. I had a child. He would have destroyed her if he’d known,
so I raised her out here, along with my friends and their
children.” Nadine glanced down the street to the women on their
porches, and Babet could feel a bond pulse between them. The woman
sighed. A wry smile curved her lips. “Children grow up. They want
more. Even magic can’t prevent Life. I may be old in magic and
wisdom, but I could not stop the force of a daughter.” She chuckled
and shook her head. “Evangeline slipped into town without telling
me. All it took was for one person to see her eyes.”
Babet nodded. It was clear now. “Did Emile
come here looking for her?”
The priestess glanced toward a wax figure on
a wicker table. Babet followed her gaze and swallowed hard. “No, he
sent people into the city, looking for her. She was curious about
her father. I sent him a dream. It told him that if he left her
alone, we’d return the favor.”
“But?”
“Emile and his foolish fears. He worried that
his magic, mixed with my voodoo, would make her stronger than he
was. He finally smuggled a letter to her, inviting her to his
house. He gave a mage’s promise not to harm her. Those can’t be
broken. But the words can be bent.”
Her mood darkened, and spirits hovered close
to do her bidding. “Evangeline went there, curious and hopeful,
thinking that he might like her, want to spend time with her, but
when he hugged her to him, he wouldn’t let go until he’d drained
her of all her witches’ powers.” She gave a grim smile, and Babet
shivered. The woman’s visage with the down-turned lips formed
again, ready for action. “Stupid of him, really. He freed her of
your witches’ rules. When she went to the restroom before leaving
his house, she took all of the hairs from his comb, his nail
clippings from his trash can, and one of his rings. Then she came
here.”
Babet clamped her teeth together to keep them
from chattering. “You made a doll.”
Evangeline’s face crumpled. She blinked away
tears. “Mother warned me about him, but I still hoped…” She pressed
her lips together, brushed her fingers over the wax figure. A
sharp, hat pin stuck out of its back. Dark hairs curled in the wax
center, twined around a silver ring. Nail clippings showed inside
its arms and legs.
“We’ve waited the prescribed time. We’re
going to melt it today to reclaim Emile’s powers.”
“Now? With us here?” Babet took a step closer
to Hennie. Would being part of the ceremony affect them in any
way?
Nadine ignored her discomfort. She held a
match to Emile’s letter and tossed the burning paper into a pile of
shavings. Evangeline took twigs that were gathered into a bin and
laid them on the growing flames. When they licked and spat, she
threw the doll into the center.
As the wax melted, a wind gusted around them.
A misty shape took form. Lights sparkled inside it. Evangeline’s
mother gave her a quick nod, and the girl began a low chant. When
her voice peaked, the mists darted inside her body. She gasped,
then glowed with power. Then the flames flickered out, the winds
died, and Evangeline looked herself again.
Evangeline’s mother gave a sharp laugh.
“Emile finally knows his place. All my daughter wanted was for him
to like her. She didn’t even expect love. She knows our kind. She
knows the conflicts. Until now, she’s never been interested in her
gifts. She plants flowers, raises herbs and vegetables. She
nurtures.”
Babet squirmed. “Until now?”
The woman cocked her head to one side,
studying Evangeline. “I hope Emile hasn’t changed that. She has his
power now, his gifts. Along with mine.”
Babet stared at the girl. She was undoubtedly
much older than she appeared. Witches and priestesses didn’t age.
How powerful was she? What happened when witches’ magic and voodoo
magic combined? She rubbed her arms, afraid to think about it.
“Relax, child. We’re here for her. She may be
strong, but so are we. We raise our children right.”
Hennie reached out a hand to grasp hers.
“Thank you, Nadine. We can put this to rest now.”
Nadine looked at Babet, assessing her. “Power
sparkles in your aura. You come from strong bloodlines too.” She
reached out a hand to touch her, and the snake lunged at her,
hissing.
Nadine drew back her hand quickly, laughing.
“I won’t harm her, Morgana. We have no quarrel with her or her
kind. We have no quarrel with her Were either.” She turned her
attention to Babet. “Tell Prosper what happened. He’s dealt with
voodoo before. He won’t mention it to anyone. It’s best we all know
our places and stay separate from each other.” She reached out her
hand once more, and Babet braced herself. But instead of touching
her, Nadine offered it to the snake.
Morgana turned her head and refused to leave
Babet’s shoulder.
Nadine stared. “Morgana’s chosen you. You’ve
found your familiar.”
Tension coiled in Babet’s limbs. “Most
witches have cats.”
Nadine passed her hand close by a third time.
“Aaaah, your aura. Most witches don’t have a succubus for a
father.”
“What?” Babet turned to Hennie. Her mother
rarely talked about her father, only said that she loved him, and
he loved her, but they came from different worlds and could rarely
spend time together. Babet had formed the impression that he was a
vampire. She was obviously wrong.
Hennie looked away, unwilling to meet her
gaze.
Nadine cocked a brow. “You and Evangeline are
not so different. Do you have a familiar?”
“No.” Babet couldn’t catch her balance. Her
world was spinning out of control. “Familiars choose witches, not
vice versa. Mine hasn’t shown up yet.”
“It has now.” Nadine’s eyes narrowed as she
studied the snake. “Our paths will cross again. Morgana trusts you,
so I will too. She’s yours, sworn to protect and guide you.”
In what? Voodoo? Succubi skills? A knot
formed in Babet’s throat. “But….”
“My daughter has mixed blood. You’ll have
mixed gifts too. It’s not ours to decide. It’s decreed. Everything
serves a purpose.” Nadine nodded to her daughter. “Return here
after you take them to the city.”
Hennie made an effort to leave Nadine on a
happy note. “Thank you for seeing us. I’m sorry Emile couldn’t love
his own daughter.”
Nadine gave a careless shrug. “Emile was
incapable of love. He knew lust, but that’s selfish. He was a
selfish man.”
When they climbed into Evangeline’s mini-van,
Babet was happy to leave this place. Questions swirled in her head.
She sat in the back seat and let Hennie sit in front, beside the
young girl. Morgana coiled on the seat beside Babet, resting her
head on her lap. As they pulled from the curb, Babet watched the
women swarm from their porches to join Evangeline’s mother, and her
hand moved to the snake’s smooth head, stroking it gently. Maybe it
wasn’t such a bad thing to have a voodoo protector as a
companion.
The drive home seemed endless. She leaned
forward, intent on getting answers from Hennie, but the older witch
held up her hand. “I’m not the one to ask. Your mother chose not to
tell you. I won’t break her confidence.”
Babet squirmed, impatient. Her mother
wouldn’t be back for a few days, at least. Hennie’s shop was
closer, so Evangeline dropped her off first. Then she pulled to the
curb in front of River City’s city/county building. She turned when
Babet opened the door to leave. “I know how you feel. If you need
someone to talk to, call me.”
Babet bit her bottom lip, trying to hold her
emotions in check. “Thank you. I will.” She let Morgana coil around
her arm before rushing into the station. People gave her curious
looks as she stepped into Prosper’s office. He looked up when she
entered, glanced at the snake, then studied her face. “Close the
door behind you. Have a seat, then tell me everything.”
It all spilled out. Not her usual style. When
she’d finished her account of what happened, he nodded. “Not a good
day. I’m sorry we brought you into this.”