by Pandora Pine
“Why don’t we get everyone together for a family picture?” Dempsey suggested.
It took a few minutes for everyone to get organized. Jude was standing next to Copeland. Their arms were wrapped around each other as picture after picture was snapped. By the time all was said and done, his cheeks hurt from all the smiling. When the pictures were finished, he pulled Copeland out of the room so the immediate family could have some time alone with Bertha before it was time to get to work.
“Are you okay?” Cope asked when they walked past the cash registers.
Jude nodded. Aside from being stunned beyond belief, he was good. “Yeah, it’s just that we’re all going from the highest of highs to having to figure out how to defeat the bastard who’s been behind the attacks on you for all of these months now. Jesus, Cope, this man managed to paralyze you from hundreds of miles away.”
“I know. I was thinking the same thing while we were taking the family pictures. How did I have any right to be in the photos when I could end up being the reason that this family loses contact with Bertha forever?”
“We aren’t going to think like that. This day is going to end with you being free from whoever this fucker is who thinks he has a right to hurt you and with Bertha going back to Club Heaven. Tell me you hear me.” Jude needed Copeland to be on the same page with him. If he even had the slightest doubt in how things were going to turn out, this day could go to shit in a heartbeat.
Cope opened his mouth to answer when the bell over the shop door jingled.
Jude felt his heart speed up, which was ridiculous. Someone was probably just here for a book or to check out Tennyson’s selection of crystals. Turning toward the door, he saw a middle-aged man with dark hair and eyes wearing cargo shorts and a Boston Red Sox tee shirt with vertical wrinkles in it, the kind you see when a shirt’s been sitting, folded on a store shelf. Jude’s radar instantly was on red alert. “Welcome to West Side Magick, can I help you?”
The man smiled. “As a matter of fact, you can, Jude.” The smile morphed into something dark, filled with malevolence and sharp teeth. The man’s hands came up in a “don’t shoot” gesture before he threw his arms forward, as if he were pushing against something invisible.
“Cope!” Jude managed to yell before he was struck full on by a wave of pure energy. He slammed back against the display counter which housed crystal balls before flipping over it and landing face-down on the floor. Broken shards of glass tinkled down all around him. He tried and failed to get back up to his knees. The last thing Jude heard before the blackness overtook him was a voice laughing.
“Hello, Copeland. You look like shit. You should see a doctor.”
35
Copeland
Hearing Jude shout his name, Cope instinctively ducked. A split second later he saw Jude slam backward against the counter, shattering the glass. Cope ducked again, shutting his eyes against the shards which sprayed all over.
He knew his number one priority should be dealing with the man who’d done this, his attacker, but all he could think about was Jude and if he was okay. Knowing his time was limited, he sent out a psychic cry for help to everyone inside Carson’s reading room. It was killing him that all five of Bertha’s grandchildren were in the shop.
“Hello, Copeland. You look like shit. You should see a doctor.” a familiar voice said from the other side of the counter.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re the one who’s doing this to me?” Copeland blinked up into the face of Doctor Hugh Fontenot. Hugh had been his doctor and trusted friend for years back in New Orleans. Cope was dumbfounded. He sat on the floor of the Magick shop staring up at a man he’d known for all of his adult life. Aside from Onyx Kerr, Doctor Fontenot was the only person he trusted more.
From behind him, Cope could hear pounding, as if someone large and angry were trying to kick down the door to Carson’s reading room down. There was a splintering sound followed by the crash of the door against the wall.
“Hold it right there, assholes.” Hugh threw his arms forward again. More breaking glass and screams followed in its wake. “Nice friends you’ve made here, Copeland,” the doctor sneered.
Scrambling back to his feet, Copeland turned toward the reading room to see Bertha Craig come bounding through the doorway. She didn’t look very intimidating at 5’2” tall and one hundred ten pounds soaking wet, but Cope sure as hell wouldn’t want to tangle with her after putting her grandchildren in danger. Her hands were up in front of her as if she were ready to cast a spell of her own.
“Back off, Granny. Don’t make me hurt you.” Hugh rubbed his hands together, looking very much like hurting Bertha was exactly what he wanted to do.
“You’re the son-of-a-bitch who’s been hurting Copeland?” She seemed to be sizing him up.
Copeland took that moment to move around the shattered display case to where Jude was lying on the floor. He was awake, but not moving. “Are you hurt? Can you get up?”
“I’m okay. I just couldn’t catch my breath. Slammed hard into the case.”
Cope grabbed his arm and helped haul Jude back to his feet.
“Who the hell is this asshole?” Jude’s voice was incredulous.
“My doctor. He was the one who suggested what was wrong with me was a psychic attack in the first place.” Cope still felt like he was in a state of shock. He couldn’t have been any more surprised by this revelation if Mickey Mouse had walked through the door.
“Your doctor? A witch doctor or a real doctor?” Jude still looked stunned.
“You think you’re fucking funny, don’t you, Jude?” Hugh shouted. “You, with all of your fucking men, getting more dick than a public urinal. Adding Copeland’s notch to your bedpost last night.”
“My relationship with Cope is none of your business.” Jude stepped in front of Copeland. “Is that what this whole thing is about? Did Copeland turn you down, so now you feel like the only way you can erase your own pain is to dish it up to Cope?”
It was obvious what Jude was doing. He was trying to put himself in the line of fire, while at the same time getting Hugh to spill his guts about why the hell Cope was the target here. It was a good plan, but he didn’t think it was going to work.
“For such a smart man, you’re pretty fucking stupid.” Hugh laughed.
“Oh, I get it now,” Bertha said gently. “It wasn’t Copeland you were after, it was someone else.” She nodded her head. “It all makes sense, but why wouldn’t you go after him instead, Hugh? He was the one who ultimately turned you down, not Cope.”
Cope was totally lost now. He’d been trying to read Hugh from the moment his face had popped over the side of the counter, but all he’d been getting was static, like a radio station with no signal. Bertha must be getting messages from the other side or had greater powers she’d been able to bring back with her from the other side.
“Look at him.” Hugh threw his arm toward Copeland. An arc of blue electricity shot from his hand. It was on a direct trajectory for Copeland’s head.
“Niʼníłtłáád!” Jude shouted, stopping the flow of electricity in mid-air. It dissipated through the room.
“Bravo, my little Indian brave.” Hugh offered him a golf clap.
“Why are you here?” Jude challenged. His tone indicated he’d had just about enough of Hugh’s bullshit.
“He’s here because of me.” Onyx Kerr stepped out of the reading room. He walked forward, positioning himself between Hugh and Bertha.
“Of course, you’re here.” Hugh sighed, shaking his head in obvious frustration. “Wherever Copeland goes, you fucking follow like a good little lap dog.”
Cope looked back and forth between Onyx and Hugh. “Can somebody clue me the fuck in about what the hell this is all about?” he shouted. “I’ve spent the last two years of my life living in hiding because a man I was stupid enough to take as a lover decided I needed to die because I didn’t want to fuck him anymore. And if that wasn’t bad enough, out of the blue, I sta
rt getting sick; migraines that would down an elephant, body aches that felt like the flu setting in. So what do I do? I go to see the one man back in NOLA I know I can trust. My doctor. Who tells me, with a straight face, that I’m perfectly healthy, but that my problem might be a psychic attack of some kind.”
He was about to finish raging when all of a sudden part of the story made sense. “Jesus Christ, the attacks were to lure me out of hiding. Weren’t they? You figured that I’d come running back to you when the doctors in Galveston couldn’t find anything wrong with me, right?”
“Give the man a fucking gold star.” Hugh’s lips curled into a snarl. “I had you right in my clutches, but you slipped away like a fucking rat from a trap.”
“You were going to kill him the night he flew to Boston,” Bertha said. It wasn’t a question.
“After I tortured him and got him to call his fuck-buddy over,” Hugh confirmed with a snarl. His eyes never left Onyx.
“You want to explain where you come into this?” Cope turned to Onyx. His friend had better have a fucking good explanation for all of this, namely why the hell he never mentioned that the good doctor was a possible suspect.
“You honestly don’t remember, Cope?” Onyx was looking at him like he was sure Copeland had lost what was left of his mind.
“Would I be asking the question if I remembered? I woke up paralyzed three days ago, Onyx! Don’t you think I would have told you all why I thought this was going on if I remembered? What I want to know is why you didn’t tell me you had something to do with this!”
“Oh, the drama of it all.” Hugh laughed. “Bertha, be a love and go get me something from the bakery across the way.”
“Eat a dick, Hugh.” Bertha turned back to Onyx. “For the love of God. Tell the story.”
“A few months before Deacon came after you, Hugh asked me out. Actually, that’s not exactly the way of it. He started courting me, showing up at Hex with flowers and bottles of my favorite booze. Then there were the love letters. Poems and sonnets. It was all quite romantic. I was on the verge of accepting his suit.” Onyx shook his head. “It was all so Antebellum South, you know? If men had been allowed to court each other.”
“If you were on the verge of going out with Hugh, how did I end up in the middle of this?” Cope was feeling overwhelmed. How the hell was any of this his fault?
“We went out for drinks at this bar on Bourbon Street. That little jazz club you like so much.” Onyx rolled his hand like the name of the place was on the tip of his tongue.
“The Playhouse?” God, Cope had loved that place. The atmosphere and the music. A wave of homesickness broke over him.
“Yes, dat’s the one.” Onyx nodded. “I told you all about Hugh and the way he was trying to woo me. You told me to run away. As fast as far as I could. You said relationships were only for dumb fucks-”
“Who wanted to voluntarily stick their dicks in a meat grinder,” Cope finished for him. “Jesus Christ, Onyx! That was two weeks after I broke up with Deacon. Two weeks which he’d spent stalking me, egging my house and blowing up my phone with hundreds of calls and text messages a day. I was also so fucking drunk that you had to carry me up the stairs of my house that night. Why the hell would you listen to me?”
Onyx shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Hugh put his hand in the air. “Oh! I know! I know! Pick me!” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe because Onyx was still hung up on you! Stupid fuck. It might have been just meaningless sex to you, but Onyx still hasn’t gotten over you. Isn’t that right, champ?”
Cope turned to look at his friend who was staring at the floor and not making eye contact. He supposed that non-answer was his answer. None of this was making any sense. He’d had his life ripped to shreds by a stalking, psychotic, ex-lover and now his trusted doctor had been trying to kill him because another ex-lover was still hung up on him five years after their brief encounter.
All of this was so absurd. He thought about all of the men over the years who thought they could take things from him, things he wasn’t willing to give. He was done with that. This was his line in the sand. He stepped around Jude to confront Hugh. “So, what now, Hugh? Are you going to kill me? My friends? What’s your endgame? Is all forgiven if Onyx agrees to throw you a pity fuck? I think we have some rope in the trunk of the car. You do know that Onyx likes to tie his boys up before he fucks them, right? I sure as fuck hope you’re into that shit, because if you’re not, we’ve all wasted a lot of time here.”
“Is this all one big joke to you? Because that’s what it looks like to me.” Hugh’s right hand started to lift into the air.
“No, this is what me taking my life back looks like. I’m sick and tired of asshole men thinking they can just take whatever they want from me.” Copeland started advancing on Hugh. In his mind he started saying the words of an incantation he hoped he never had to use, but the words had been at the ready. “Friends, lovers, students in my class, my fucking doctor. You all think that I’m such a pushover that you can just keep taking things from me and I’ll roll over and give in. Not anymore. It ends here and now.” Copeland stopped inches away from Hugh.
“You’re out of practice, little witch.” Hugh looked down at Copeland. He was taller than him by a good half a foot and probably outweighed him by at least thirty pounds.
Cope nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I am.” He turned back to Jude, who looked ready to jump into action. Cope snapped his fingers, blue flames flared to life. “I am no longer affected by you. I am in control of you. Your magick is mine. Your soul is-”
“Cope, stop.” Bertha put a hand on his arm. The flame flickered, but did not go out. “You can’t take those words back. Take his magick, but leave his soul to heal. I know it’s tempting to want revenge after all the pain he’s put you through, but please don’t do this.”
A tremor passed through Copeland’s hand. The black magick flowing through him wanted him to complete the spell. He could feel the darkness welling up from within him, threatening to overtake him. All he had to do was speak a few more simple words and he could crush Hugh Fontenot’s soul. A body walking this earth without its soul was in for a world of hurt. Copeland wanted that. He wanted Hugh to suffer the same way he’d suffered over these last few months.
“Let him go, Copeland.” Jude was standing behind him. “You said you wanted to be a free man. If you do this, you’ll never breathe free. Finish the spell, but leave his soul.”
Cope could feel himself fighting against the darkness. He was trying to get to Jude. Reaching back with his free hand, he grabbed Jude. He could feel Jude’s energy flowing through him. It was what he needed to defeat the black magick’s power.
Copeland turned back to Fontenot. “I am no longer affected by you. I am in control of you. Your magick is mine. In the name of the Goddess, so mote it be.” Cope slammed his hand with the magickal blue fire against Hugh’s chest. The flames disappeared.
The doctor screamed. He threw his hands out at Copeland. Nothing happened. Growling low in his chest, he reached behind him, pulling out a knife. He slashed at Copeland catching his right hand.
Cope hissed, pulling his hand back toward his body.
Jude charged forward. Hugh came at him with the blade. Jude ducked left and kicked out with his right foot. Making contact with Hugh’s hand, he knocked the knife loose. It skittered away toward the dreamcatcher section of the store. Jude grabbed the doctor and slammed him to the floor. “This is over. Do you hear me? If you know what’s good for you, you’ll cop to some kind of misdemeanor plea deal and you’ll go back to Louisiana. Leave Copeland alone. You know what I’m capable of. Do not make me come after you. You’ll find I’m far less forgiving than Copeland and can’t be swayed by old ladies. Understood?”
“Yes,” Hugh mumbled.
Cope could hear sirens in the distance. He allowed Bertha Craig to pull him into her arms and hold him tight. Was this really it? Was his long nightmare finally over?
Jude
“Christ, Jude, I’m not used to seeing you this squeamish,” ER doctor, Walker Harmon said.
“Yeah, well, you just caught me on a bad day.” Jude was facing the other way while Walker stitched up the gash in Copeland’s hand. Thankfully there had been no nerve damage and all Cope was going to need was some stitches and a prescription for some antibiotics.
It had been Cisco Jackson and Officer Dixon who’d shown up at West Side Magick after Ronan had called him. He’d stayed out of the fight in the main part of the store to guard the children. None of them had been hurt. Truman and Cassie had been able to take them all home after they’d given witness statements.
Carson and Cole had wanted to come to the hospital with them, but Jude promised to bring Copeland to Carson’s house after they finished up at the hospital. Copeland had to release Bertha’s spirit from the spell before she was free to go. Jude wanted her family to spend as much time as possible with her before it was time to say goodbye again.
“Are either of you going to explain this to me?” Walker snipped the thread and reached for the bandage.
“It was a series of misunderstanding that went too far.” Cope shrugged.
What else was there to say? Cope had left out a lot of the story, but in essence that was exactly what had happened. Jude would hasten to add that it was another case of a man not taking no for an answer, but he’d keep that little commentary to himself.
Walker raised an eyebrow at Copeland before he looked over at Jude who shrugged. He was sure there would come a day when he’d tell his friend what had really gone on this week, but today wasn’t that day. There was still so much of it he was struggling to understand.
“Keep it dry and elevated. Try to use the hand as little as possible. You don’t want to pull the stitches. Fill the antibiotics and take them all. Use Ibuprofen for the pain. Call me if you need anything.” Walker set a hand on Jude’s shoulder. “I’ll send a nurse in with your discharge papers.”