The Wolf's Pewter Priestess

by Michele Ryan

  “Oh my,” Clara whispered. “But how?”

  Ezra glanced up towards the second floor of the house. “Perhaps this isn’t the right place to be speaking about this.”

  “Of course,” Jonah agreed. “Come to the library.”

  They gathered around the table while Jemmy made tea. Annabelle and Clara were going through the things they had to clean then dress the baby. If the boy survived the night, it would be a miracle. He’d been born early of that, Ezra could see in the light. The mother, one of Marbella’s bitches, Sybil. Ezra knew he would have to explain everything that happened. He didn’t know where to begin, so he started from the moment he entered the park and how the energy was off. Then he told them of the man who’d had his throat ripped from him. By the time he got to the Baron, Clara stood and began to pace. The rest didn’t need to be explained.

  “He took Marbella’s soul?” Jonah glanced at Ezra then to Emmitt.

  “Yes,” Ezra answered. “Said she made a deal. I suspect everything she had been able to do, the Baron assisted her.”

  Omer glided forward. “I suspect you’re right. It appears from what we’ve learned from Miss Clara, a Baron takes offerings for his guidance and deals can be made between the living and the Baron.”

  “So, the fog...” Annabelle hedged.

  “I would imagine it was a spell the Baron gave her,” Omer answered.

  “Or from the practitioner in Whitechapel,” Emmitt added.

  “Yes, of course,” Clara murmured. “If the practitioner told Marbella what she had to do to call upon the Baron, it is possible she did the rest. It would explain her crude spells and messy trail. She has no idea what she’s doing, just reading instructions.”

  “I didn’t know anyone could cast,” Andres added. “I thought it was specific.”

  Clara gave a small smile. “Everyone has a talent. It’s whether or not they tap the magick within.”

  “Inspector Sharpter is here,” Charlie announced, pausing their conversation.

  Hoyt entered the room, the dour expression on his face, disturbed Ezra. Had something else happened between the time he ran home and explaining everything to the Dreadfuls? “What do we owe the honor this late at night?”

  He hands tightened on the bowler hat he held. “There have been several murders tonight, I’m afraid. We found bodies in the park and another in an alleyway.” The baby gave a cry and Sharpter narrowed his eyes. “A baby?”

  Ezra sighed. “One was by Marbella’s hand and the other by mine. And, yes.”

  “Yes, the silver bullet gave it away. The other women were found dead as well. The male’s body was found without a throat in the park as I said.” He cleared his throat, appearing quite uncomfortable—especially with the way Andres kept eating Hoyt up with his gaze. “I’m sorry, a baby? Where did you find a baby?”

  “Give the man some room, Andres.” Ezra rolled his eyes. Now wasn’t the time to be hitting on the inspector. Later, after they dispatched the Baron Andres could ride Hoyt off into the sunset. “None of your concern, Inspector.”

  “Well, if I can’t have who I most desire...” His gaze settled on Emmitt, who looked away. If Ezra hadn’t been paying attention, he’d have missed the slight blush upon the reanimated man’s cheeks. “I shall place it on someone of equal splendor.”

  Hoyt cleared his throat. “Uh, of course. Sorry, thank you?”

  “You’re welcome,” Andres said.

  “The Baron is here for Clara. Marbella used a practitioner from Whitechapel to call upon this spirit to take Clara away from us,” Omer said. “He has part of what he’s come for, now he wants her.”

  “We will deal with the practitioner, and the bodies,” Hoyt stated. “You get the Baron out of our city. It’s bad enough people believe the Ripper has returned, we don’t need all out hysteria.”

  No, they didn’t. “I agree.” Ezra held Clara close to his chest, unable to let her out of his sight. “We need to come up with a plan and quick. The more time the Baron has on this plane, I am afraid he will only grow stronger.”

  Omer nodded. “I agree.”

  They’d also have to explain where the babe came from. This has gone from bad to worse.

  Chapter Twelve

  Clara methodically cataloged and then carefully placed the items into her well-worn cauldron. Granmé Marie would have clicked her tongue in disgust at her for using it to carry the items she would need for the Protection and Resurrection spell.

  C’est la vie.

  Granmé Marie would have to deal as she did not want to draw any attention to her, which walking back and forth to her room multiple times surely would. She had already lied to Ezra, using her pregnancy as an excuse, telling him she was exhausted and needed a nap. He had readily agreed, covering her with the blanket, kissing her on the forehead before he left. The night before had taken a strange turn.

  After Hoyt left, they examined the baby. Other than being a few weeks immature, he appeared perfectly healthy. As Ezra had stated, the boy smelled of Grant. Her ability to differentiate between scents had grown stronger since she figured out she was with child. She might not know of this Sybil, but she knew the smell of her new son. Thankfully, Annabelle and Jonah agreed to care for the baby, naming him Kellen. Miss Jemmy had already gone into town to gather material and nappies to help clothe and diaper the boy. They’d also agreed no one would tell Grant of what transpired in the park with the baby. Which meant dealing with the Baron took priority now. Too much had been left to chance.

  Clara needed her granmé’s guidance for the spell she had to cast against the Baron. Granmé had been known to be particular about revealing herself to others. Hell, who was she kidding, the older voodoo Priestess was often finicky about revealing herself to her own granddaughter. On more than one occasion, Clara had cast her spell multiple times over several days before granmé revealed herself. She prayed to the Goddess this would not be the case tonight. The moon was in accord and they were running out of time. Granmé had to show.

  Sneaking down the back staircase as quietly as she could, she made her way to the far back corner of the property. Not having access to her granmé’s grave site made the casting of the spell harder, but she knew it could be done. Reaching up, Clara removed the empowered talisman which had been placed around her neck by her mother prior to boarding the ship to France. To others it simply looked like a necklace and charm. Yet, it was a direct connection to Granmé Marie. Dead or alive.

  Clara made a small fire after gathering some kindling and began throwing sage on it to help cleanse the space. While the herb did its job, Clara cast a protection circle. Sometimes when casting a resurrection spell it could backfire, calling forth evil spirits to haunt her or the mansion. It had never happened to her, but there was always a first time.

  She pulled the purple candle, quartz crystal and her family’s book of spells from the cauldron. To date, she had hidden the ancient text from Annabelle, Omer and Ezra. When the time was right she would offer it up to the library, knowing it would do more good than bad, but for now she was fiercely protective of the old book as it was one of the last connections to her family in America. Using the moonlight, she located the spell needed so she could speak to her granmé.

  Spell casting was not as hard as most thought. Especially if you learned to draw on the positive and not the negative. Negative often foretold Black Magick. Using a stick, she drew a Pentagram in the dirt then lit the candle before she began to chant.

  For thou who sleeps in the earth, heed this call. Rise up and obey.

  Knock on the Moral door, assemble into flesh and bone and walk once more.

  A burst of wind flowed around her.

  The flame of the candle flickered, flowing back and forth but did not go out, signaling the spell had worked.

  “S’il te plaît granmé, ne me decois pas j’al besoin de ton aide”. Clara begged her granmé in French, knowing the past Priestess preferred the language of her mother over English, which she c
onsidered uncouth.

  Another gust of wind flowed around her, this time stronger than the last. The flame flickered again, then went out. Grey smoke poured from the tip, filling her nose with the smell of burnt cotton.

  “Mon petit chou chou,” Granmé favorite endearment brought a smile to her face.

  “You came,” Clara whispered, watching the spirit begin to form on the other side of the small fire.

  “Of course, I came. It is time for you to stand your ground with the Baron. You have fulfilled the destiny I saw on the day of your birth.”

  “You saw me becoming a she-wolf?”

  “Of course. The fates had foretold it, just as they predicted the upcoming battle with Baron Samedi.” With each moment passing the shadowy figure of her beloved granmé gathered more positive energy from her surroundings. Her voice was getting stronger and she appeared like Omer.

  “The Baron, granmé, will we be successful in sending him back to underworld?”

  Granmé frowned. “In due time. It has been forever since you summoned me, and I wish to find out what has been going on with my favorite grandchild.”

  Clara sighed, knowing she wouldn’t get the answers till granmé fulfilled her need to get caught up on Clara’s life. Important questions needed to be asked and she needed to make sure she had the right spell to send the Baron back from where he came from so she obliged the spirit of her grandmother. “I believe you already have those answers.”

  “You worry about the babe in your womb and what would happen to it should Baron win the battle?” Granmé casted her gaze upon Clara. “And the one who came to be after such a troublesome situation.”

  “Yes, but I am more worried about Grant and Ezra. If I were to lose either of them, or this babe and...” Clara admitted her true fears. “Kellen is...I have no word to describe how his life saddens me.”

  “Chin up, chou chou. Kellen will be strong. You will not lose anyone. Grant will grow to manhood. Living a full life before he leaves the earth.” Clara noticed granmé did not say this about Ezra, herself or the babe within her. The older woman was speaking, and Clara did not want to interrupt her. “He’s a little imp. Precocious. Curious even. He will keep you on your toes, with the mischief he encounters as he grows.”

  “Ezra?” she hedged, knowing full well pushing Marie Laveau for a response was not exactly a smart move. The last thing she needed was for her granmé to leave before she had her answers.

  “Ezra will father many children on you, over many lifetimes. It will be his way of making up for his missteps with Grant, and now Kellen.” The spirit chuckled. “Of course, you will enjoy the time and effort he spends on making them with you.”

  Clara hadn’t been surprised by the other woman’s frank words. Granmé and her own mother were very sexual creatures. It had surprised her to realize so was she. At least with Ezra more times than not, no sooner would they finish mating and Clara was turning to her mate, needing more. He never disappointed her, giving her everything she yearned for.

  “There is no shame in pleasures of the flesh when you are in love,” Granmé assured her as if reading her thoughts.

  “I know. This was not the reason I called for you,” Clara reminded the spirit.

  The strength of granmé sigh had the small fire flickering. “I had hoped, even though your destiny had been foretold, it was wrong, and you would never have to deal with him.”

  “It was my fault. I evoked a powerful spell to protect Annabelle’s Beloved. He tracked me from that,” Clara admitted.

  The apparition nodded. “As much as we want to, sometimes the fates will not allow us to be free of what they expect us to do. It is you, and only you, who can vanquish him.”

  “Clara?” A young voice called from outside the ring of light the fire provided. She searched the darkness for the approaching figure. There in the distance she saw her mate’s son making his way toward her.

  Her gaze swung back to the woman across from her. “Granmé?”

  “Let him approach. I will remain,” the spirit promised.

  “Come forward, Grant,” Clara answered.

  Grant stumbled, almost tripping into the fire when he realized she wasn’t entirely alone in the dark. “Is that—”

  Before Grant could finish, granmé held her hand out over the fire. Clara smiled when Grant extended his own hand, only to pass right though the offered hand. “Marie Laveau at your service, Master Grant.”

  Grant blinked, then rubbed at his eyes before saying in awe. “She knows my name.”

  “I know all those connected with my granddaughter, chou chou.”

  “Chou Chou?” Grant inquired, his gaze focused entirely on the ghost who sat cross legged on the ground across from them.

  “It is a French term of endearment meaning cabbage. Trust me on this, it is an honor to be referred as such from her,” Clara explained.

  “Can I go sit by her?” Grant questioned.

  “Why do you not ask yourself? I sit right here and am capable of responding,” Granmé said, a hint of humor in her tone.

  “Not sure of protocol… ahh how do I address you?”

  “Why with granmé, silly.” Marie’s spirit patted the ground beside her. “Come, join me. I wish to get to know my newest great-grandchild.”

  Grant scurried to the other side of the fire, sitting in the indicated spot completely enthralled by the apparition.

  “Keep this up and he will be requesting me to bring you forth all the time,” Clara warned.

  “For him and for you, I would show up every single time,” her granmé said.

  Her promise was a big deal. It took a lot of magick to cast a resurrection spell and it was quite taxing on the spirit itself. Even now the vibrant colors of her granmé’s clothes were not as bright as they were five minutes ago.

  “Before you use up all of your energy and disappear we still need to discuss the Baron,” Clara admonished Marie Laveau’s essence.

  Granmé tsked her. “Our Earth-Mother has provided me with my power for this visit. She has assured me I will stay as long as needed, providing you with the resources needed to capture The Baron.”

  “Earth-Mother?” Grant asked.

  The spirit turned her full attention to the boy child beside her. “Yes, your creator.”

  “Granmé,” Clara warned. “Not now.”

  “Does he even know about the Bondye?” Clara shook her head. Informing Grant of Voodoo’s good God, had never come up. “His education is sorely lacking. As his mother, those duties fall to you, Clara,” Granmé scolded.

  Dealing with spirits, especially this one in particular was always taxing on her and granmé was in rare form. It shocked her greatly that Marie Laveau, Voodoo Priestess of the United States, had requested help from another Goddess. Earth-Mother represented another faith. Voodoo practitioners tended to stay far from deities from other religions.

  “It is not really her fault, granmé. Dad and Clare have been busy dealing with evil beings,” Grant argued.

  “She knows this, Grant, she is just reminding me of my motherly duties,” Clara said wondering why she took up for the spirit. “Once we have removed this latest threat, I promise to school him in everything I know.”

  “Teach him our ways, Clara.”

  “I would need to speak to his father first before doing so.”

  “It is imperative he learn it and quickly.”

  Clara cocked her head to the side, studying the older woman. “What do you know?”

  “Enough to say, one day, understanding our ways, it will save his soul.”

  “Merde,” Clara hissed.

  “What does that mean?” Grant probed.

  “It is a bad word. I do not want to ever hear you say it,” Clara commanded.

  “While you are teaching him our ways, you should also teach him French.”

  “Is this something he will also need in his future?” Clara inquired.

  “No,” Granmé chuckled. “I was just trying to help hi
s future love life.”

  Clara groaned, talking about Grant and sex, after finding the baby, was not the most prudent conversation considering his experience at his mother’s hand. “He is twelve, granmé, the opposite sex is the least of his worries.”

  “He will have no lasting issues from his time with the she-wolves’,” Granmé assured. “Being around the Dreadfuls and more importantly Ezra and you will be the best cure for our boy.”

  The constant worrying, she had been experiencing about Grant’s long-term wellbeing floated away with her granmé promise.

  “I could have told you that,” Grant interjected.

  “I’m sure you could have. Clara just needed outside knowledge. She loves and worries about you.”

  Her gaze found Grant’s across the flickering flames. What if the boy found out about the baby’s lineage? Then what would they do?

  “Feeling is mutual. I waited a long time for my father’s mate to come along. I could not have asked for a better one than Clara,” Grant announced.

  “Oh, sweet boy,” Clara croaked. His declaration had tears rolling down her cheeks. Deep down she worried he would think she was taking the place of his true mother, even though Marbella had not a single motherly instinct in her body.

  “Mon amour, you know Laveaus only cry in private,” Granmé chided.

  “I think in this instance, it is allowed,” Clara said.

  The spirit nodded her head in agreement.

  “You will not be alone, chou chou when you face Baron Samedi.” Granmé pointed to the necklace she had placed on the ground prior to casting her spell. “Wear your talisman. With it, you will have the strength of my entire line.”

  “That is, it?” Clara asked, knowing it could not be that simply.

  “In the Book of Shadows, hidden under the back flap is a spell I wrote in French. It will cast that bastard back to where he came from. Harness the force of the Earth as I taught you. Surround yourself with positivity. Do not allow your thoughts to betray you once you begin. If the Baron senses any doubt or feels a wavering of your power, he will strike. Pulling you into the underworld for a thousand lifetimes as his bride. The babe you carry will be gone. Ezra will waste away to nothing without his mate and Grant will live a life lost without his father’s influence.”