Spells: A Bayou Magic Novel

by Proby, Kristen

  I tip my head to the side. “Which girls?”

  His green eyes find mine. “All three of them. He was dumped outside the restaurant where they were having dinner.”

  I don’t like this coincidence. I don’t like it at all.

  “Has Brielle seen anything new since then?”

  “Not that she’s said.”

  I nod, new determination taking root in my gut.

  “I’m going to drop this off at the lab and then pay Millicent a visit.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  * * *

  The bell above her door rings as I enter the café. Her employee, Esme, is behind the counter, filling orders with a smile.

  Esme is a young but powerful witch. She’s also completely flighty and goofy, with messy hair and tons of jewelry draped over her wrists and neck. She’s a fun addition to Witches Brew.

  Millie employs mostly witches because they understand the importance of the potions added to the drinks, and because Millie doesn’t have to deal with any of her employees mocking her or making fun of her.

  “Hey, Lucien,” Esme greets with a flirty smile. She’s never made it a secret that she has a little crush on me. And I’ve never made it a secret that I’m not interested.

  Esme isn’t for me.

  “Hi, Esme. Is Millie around?”

  “Yeah, she’s reading tarot in the back.”

  “Thanks.” I shove my hands into my pockets and wander to her little book area, then stand and grin as I watch the woman I’ve loved for millennia read her cards.

  “Lots of Minor Arcana Cups,” Millie says, tapping the table thoughtfully. “Well, this makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  “How so?” the woman sitting before her asks, leaning in closer.

  “Because the Cups cards always deal with emotion. You’re leading with your heart instead of your head, and that’s certainly clear in every card we’ve drawn today—and based on what you told me.”

  “I only told you that I was getting a divorce,” the woman says, her voice heavy with awe.

  I smile wider. Yes, Millicent is damn impressive when it comes to tarot. It’s not something I ever had any interest in, but with Millie’s psychic abilities and her flair for the dramatic, watching her read for people is entertaining.

  “You’re a Cancer,” Millie points out, as if that explains it all. “You’re artistic and sometimes a little dramatic. Could it be that your decision to ask for a divorce is based on a knee-jerk reaction to something that hurt you?”

  “I’ve felt so disengaged from him,” the other woman admits. “There’s no passion anymore, you know?”

  “I’m no therapist, nor an attorney, but I can tell you based on these cards, you should have a conversation with your husband. One that is calm and honest. Because this indicates you’re being hasty.”

  “Maybe I am,” the client admits with a sigh. “Thank you, Millie. You always help me so much.”

  “You’re welcome, sugar,” Millie says with a wink. She gathers her cards and presses her hand over the deck as the other woman leaves, whispering a little incantation to recharge and reset them before setting them aside.

  When she glances up and sees me, her brown eyes darken. Whether in pleasure or disappointment, I’m not sure.

  “Good afternoon,” I say as I approach.

  “Are you here to get your cards read?” she asks.

  “No.” I know what my future holds. It’s just how we get there that’s a little hard to see. “I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Somewhere private.”

  Those big brown eyes narrow on me now. “I was just headed home. You can join me, if you like.”

  I nod, surprised by the invitation. Millie’s never invited me into her home, but there’s never been an occasion where I asked to speak to her privately, either.

  “I’ll meet you there,” she says. “I just have to check in on Esme and grab my bag.”

  “Thanks. I mean it.”

  She nods, and I leave, headed for my car. The drive to Millie’s house isn’t a long one, and I park at the curb to wait for her to join me.

  She was right. She isn’t far behind me. Once she’s parked in the driveway, I join her on the porch and watch as she eyes my blood mark from earlier.

  She doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the door with a flick of her wrist and gestures for me to follow her inside.

  Sanguine comes running to greet her human, rubbing up against Millie’s legs as she offers a big meow.

  “Hi, darlin’,” Millie says and rubs the cat’s ears. Her fingers are long and strong, and I’d love to feel them on my skin.

  But that’s for another time.

  “Whew, what a day,” she chimes in before I can say anything. She leads me to her small kitchen, which has herbs hung for drying, and countertops full of pots and jars with special ingredients for her potions. “I’m having wine. Do you want some?”

  I glance at the time. “It’s a little early in the day for me.”

  “I’ve been awake since three,” she says with a shrug as she pours half a glass of red and eyes me over the rim as she takes a sip. “Two visits in two days.”

  “I figured you’d be missing me by now.”

  I shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t pull her against me and kiss the sass right out of her.

  Not that I could, but I’d enjoy trying.

  “Yeah, I’ve been heartsick all day.” She takes one more sip and sets her glass aside. “Should we sit for this conversation?”

  “I want to know about the body you found last night.”

  And just like that, all humor leaves her gorgeous face.

  “How did you find out about that?”

  “Cash brought me in on the investigation.”

  She narrows her eyes on me. “Why would he need help from a blood expert?”

  “Because there’s a mystery surrounding the blood,” I reply. “I told you to call me if anything happened.”

  “Lucien,”—my heart stills at the sound of my name on her lips—“I saw a dumped body. That’s it.”

  “And you don’t think that warrants some thought? Millie, Horace—”

  “Is dead!” she yells and turns to me with angry brown eyes. “He died. We defeated him. You were there. Just because he collected blood from his victims for me doesn’t mean that he’s back and killing more people.”

  “What did you just say?”

  She swears under her breath and paces around the kitchen. She’s magnificent with her long, blond hair and fair skin. She’s tall, almost as tall as my six feet, with a willowy body that’s tempted me for as long as I can remember. And right now, I want to take her over my knee and spank her. “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Horace took trophies,” she says and rubs her head in agitation, as if thinking about all of this is giving her a headache. I reach over and run my thumb over the center of her forehead, taking the pain as my own. I don’t even blink as an ache settles behind my eyes.

  “Thanks. Anyway, he was big into trophies, the sick piece of shit. For Brielle, it was her long, dark hair. He had dozens of braids. For Daphne, it was eyes. Because she has the sight, as he put it.”

  “And for you?” I ask, but I already know. I’ve always known.

  “Blood.” She swallows hard. “He’d saved enough blood to fill the bayou.”

  “And you didn’t tell me.”

  She rounds on me, and if I were a weaker man, I’d be damn scared. “Why would I tell you, Lucien? It wasn’t a detail that was released to the public, and it’s not like you and I are besties. What do you expect me to do, just call you up and be like, ‘Oh, hey, I know we don’t speak much, but get a load of this?’”

  “Okay, fair point. So, tell me now.”

  She sighs. “That’s really all I know. He left journals going back to when he was a teenager and first started to kill. We know he was fixated o
n us, and that he is most likely a psychopath.”

  “And he’s very well-versed in dark magic,” I remind her.

  “Was. He was. Lucien, he’s dead.”

  “You and I both know that the physical body means nothing when a being possesses powers as strong as his,” I say, feeling the frustration building inside of me. “And if you think he’s finished, you’re wrong. Even Miss Sophia warned you that what we accomplished last year wasn’t permanent.”

  Her lip trembles, and I feel it in my very soul. So, I reach out to her and take her hand, trying to ignore the flash of heat, the spark that ignites at the touch. “Let me help, darlin’.”

  “To what end?” she whispers. “You want to talk about the dreams? Fine. In every single one, no matter what time period we’re in, we fail. I don’t know if they’re memories or a flash of what could be in the future. But every single time, it comes down to you and me, and we fucking fail, Lucien.”

  “Because we have in the past.” She stiffens and tries to pull away, but I hold on tight. “You weren’t ready to accept what you saw in those dreams, Mill. I hate that you were afraid and that you didn’t have anyone to help you. To explain it to you.”

  “We’ve done this before,” she whispers.

  “Dozens of times,” I confirm. “And he defeats us every time. But not now.”

  “Why is this different?”

  “We’re stronger. We have additional knowledge on our side. And I’m damn pissed, Millicent.”

  “But we don’t know that this is him. First of all, Horace kills women who look like us—like me, Daphne, and Brielle. Not men. It’s us sisters that he’s fixated on.”

  “That’s true,” I concede. “This could have just been a sick asshole who tortured and killed that man. That case might be completely random. People are murdered in the Quarter every day.”

  “Exactly.” She nods.

  “But either way, we need to get ready. Because he won’t stay dormant forever. And whether it’s tonight or a year from now, we need to be prepared to deal with him again.”

  “I’ve so enjoyed the quiet this past year,” she says and then turns sad eyes up to me. “What did we ever do to set all of this in motion? If it’s hundreds of year’s worth of a grudge, where does it come from?”

  “That’s one thing I don’t know,” I admit. “But Miss Sophia might. Or she’ll know where we could look. I know you don’t like me much, but we’re going to be spending a bit of time together.”

  She scowls. “I don’t dislike you.”

  “You avoid me at every turn.”

  She sighs and pulls out of my grasp. I let her go but feel the loss immediately.

  “I’ve seen you since I was a child.” She glances my way again. “I even knew your name. It confused and scared the hell out of me. And then, when Miss Sophia invited me to the Samhain ritual when I was seventeen and I saw you standing in that circle under the moon…it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was terrified. I recognized you, and I didn’t know what to think.”

  “Why didn’t you ask?” I brush a lock of her hair off her cheek.

  “When it first started, I once tried to ask my mother about it, and she beat me with a wooden spoon until I had bloody welts on the backs of my legs.”

  The rage I feel is swift and encompassing.

  “So I’ve been careful with my questions. Until I met Miss Sophia, who is always happy to answer them.”

  “I’m happy to answer them, too,” I reply softly. “Anytime.”

  “Good. Because I have a feeling I’m going to have a lot of them. But the first one is pretty simple.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you feel like lasagna for dinner?”

  Chapter Four

  Millie

  Lucien is sitting at my kitchen island, and I’m bustling about, making us both dinner. I never thought I’d see the day.

  Also, the longer I’m near him, the more I feel the chemistry between us. I know we’ve known each other over the course of many lifetimes, but I wonder if we were lovers in those lives, as well?

  If the way he looks at me is anything to go by, or how it feels when he touches me, I’d say it’s likely.

  He makes me damn nervous. Which means, I can’t stop talking.

  “Esme asked for the entire week of Halloween off today,” I say as I brown the meat in a skillet and add in some herbs and spices, along with a little something extra here and there. The noodles are already in the boiling water. “I couldn’t believe it. The whole week, as if I don’t have a festival and our coven ritual that week. Which she should also be at. When I asked her why she needed the whole week off, she said it’s because she wants to take the week for spiritual cleansing.”

  I shake my head as I dump jars of marinara into the skillet and give it a good stir.

  “I would usually make my own marinara, but I’m hungry, and that’s a two-day process.”

  “This smells fantastic,” Lucien assures me. “Can you tell Esme no?”

  “I did tell her no,” I reply as I get to work building the lasagna in a pan. “I’m giving her a couple of days off that week, but I couldn’t give her the whole week. She wasn’t thrilled, but she said she understood.”

  “She’s young,” Lucien says.

  “She’s twenty-five,” I disagree. “She’s the age I was when I opened that shop. She’s a grown woman, and she knows better.”

  “You’re right,” he replies with a nod. “Maybe she just seems younger to me. But you’re right. Aside from that, how are things going at the café?”

  “Really well,” I reply as I sprinkle something extra-special over the lasagna’s top layer before popping it into the oven. “We’re consistently busy. I extended our hours on the weekends, so rather than closing at three in the afternoon, we’re staying open until six. But Sunday through Thursday, we’re still closing at three.”

  “What was that you just sprinkled on?” he asks. “Eye of newt?”

  I roll my eyes and laugh as I set the pan in the hot oven. “We don’t use eye of newt anymore, Lucien. Well, not much anyway.”

  He raises a brow, which only makes me laugh. But now that I don’t have anything to keep my hands busy with over the next forty-five minutes, I’m nervous all over again.

  Bread! I can get the bread ready for the oven.

  I reach for a knife and keep talking.

  “How old were you when you knew you were a kitchen witch?” he asks before I can say anything else.

  “I didn’t know I was a witch at all until I met Miss Sophia,” I reply. “Not really, anyway. I had a hunch. All I knew for sure when I was young was that I could read spirits, I saw things, and I had to learn how to build defenses around my mind so I didn’t climb into random people’s psyches. Reading minds is exhausting for one, and the thoughts that people have are disturbing. Not to mention, my father tormented me for over a decade after he died, and I had to escape him.”

  Lucien’s blue eyes narrow on me. “How did he taunt you?”

  “He stayed in that horrible house with us,” I continue. “He tormented all of us, not just me. He liked to spook us, touch us. He was a horrible man. Mama was just as bad, but she was alive, so we had it coming at us from both sides.”

  “When did you leave?” he asks.

  “Brielle turned eighteen and filed for custody of us. Mama didn’t fight it, so we went to live with Bri. I was sixteen, and Daphne was fourteen.”

  “That’s a long time to live in a house like that,” Lucien replies. His jaw is clenched, and his hand is balled into a fist on the countertop.

  “It felt like an eternity,” I murmur and then set the knife aside so I can pace the kitchen as I talk. “Once we moved out, and I could freely talk with others and learn, I started to do some research. My grandmother had given me her grimoire before she died, and I was so diligent at keeping it hidden from Mama and only reading it at night after she’d gone to bed.

  “But one night, she found me reading
it and took it away. I didn’t get it back until last year. But I’d read enough to know that I gravitated to the recipes. I loved to cook, even then, and it’s a good thing I did because if I hadn’t, my sisters and I would have starved. Mama didn’t care enough about us to feed us much.”

  “Lovely woman,” he says with a sigh.

  “Actually, after everything that happened last year, I wonder if Horace didn’t put a spell on her. She was certainly possessed by something, but we didn’t know until last year. She’s been at the Psychiatric Pavilion here in New Orleans ever since. She has good days and bad ones, but it’s better than living in that horrible house in the bayou.”

  I shake my head, thinking of my mother.

  “Anyway, I’d written down many of the recipes from memory and went searching for a coven as soon as I could. That’s when I found Miss Sophia. It was as if it was always meant to be.”

  “Because it was,” he replies with a soft smile. “And when I saw you walk into our circle during that Samhain ritual you spoke of earlier, it was as if the final piece of a puzzle snapped into place. I knew you immediately. But it didn’t scare me at all.”

  “Lucky,” I murmur. “I’ve been scared literally all of my life, Lucien. It’s exhausting.”

  “I hate that for you.”

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I reach for the knife and continue slicing the bread. Suddenly, Lucien covers my hand with his.

  “Why are you so nervous around me, Millicent?”

  I frown, ready to deny the statement, but then I change my mind.

  “Because I think you could bring a lot of chaos to my life, Lucien. And I’ve done my best to avoid chaos since I left that miserable house half a lifetime ago.”

  He cups my cheek, and the heat that stirs is undeniable.

  “I’m not responsible for that chaos,” he says softly as his thumb makes small circles on the apple of my cheek. “And I can bring more than that if you let me.”

  I sigh and lean into him. The magnetism between us is off the charts. It’s a longing that I can’t even begin to describe. I want to be near him, to care about him and have him with me. It’s as if I…miss him.