The Wolf's Pewter Priestess

by Michele Ryan

  “P-Papa Legba.” She shrank away.

  Of course, as the keeper of the crossroads, he would be the one who could help Marbella if she petitioned him for help. All she would have to do is explain what she meant to do and who it was, Samedi would come through, eager to find Clara. He’d make a deal with Marbella, promise her whatever she wanted, in this case Ezra, and stupid girl, the Baron would weave a web of voodoo around her. It would tighten its grip of her until Samedi sucked the life from her and she became one of his baubles in the underworld.

  And, if he caught her? Clara knew the answer. She would die as well as the babe she carried within her. Whatever spell her granmé left for her, would work, she knew it deep down, however seeing this girl and how stupidly she peddled voodoo without a care in the world, maddened Clara to no end. There were consequences for it. Marbella paid them with her life.

  “She’s dead,” Clara said, matter-of-fact.

  The girl paled. Her bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry.”

  Sometimes sorry didn’t cut it. Clara glanced at Jonah then to Omer. “Whatever you believe should be done with her, I am fine with. I have to prepare for what’s to come.”

  Omer nodded. “As you wish, Miss Laveau.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hoyt Sharpter had been waiting for Clara when she arrived at the gates of the park. When they last spoke, he promised her a perimeter around the park would be closed in case something went terribly wrong. Night time brought out city revelers, and with it curious onlookers so the spell had to be completed before sunset. If the wrong person stepped into her circle while she casted the spell she needed to send the Baron back, breaking the hex set upon her, she’d never forgive herself. He stood with his back to her, his hands grasped the black felt bower hat he’d worn on occasion. Instead of his normal Inspector suit, he wore a dress shirt, suspenders and a pair of dark brown trousers.

  Ezra, Charlie, Mr. Dunn, Dr. Brew and Donovan were somewhere within the park, a safe distance away, but still close enough if she were to need help. Fear had made the trek there hard. Several times she’d wanted to turn around and go home. Irrational as it might seem to some, those hours/days she spent in the dark, away from her kin, broke a part of her. The idea she could end up experiencing the same thing, or worse, made every inch of her want to run and hide. The only things keeping her from doing such was Ezra, Grant, the baby Annabelle and Jonah named Kellen and the babe growing within her. She couldn’t turn her back on them now.

  “Mr. Sharpter,” she stated, approaching the man. “I’m glad you could make it.”

  “Always willing to help a friend,” he replied, facing her. “Are the others here?”

  “They are.” She tried to grin but failed. The soft tremble filling her body only grew more intense. “I shouldn’t be this afraid.”

  “If you weren’t, I’d be more so,” he announced. “Walk with me?”

  Hoyt guided her into the park. The usual chatter she’d enjoyed on her daily walks had disappeared. The few smatterings of people congregating seemed to be farther out, enjoying the small pond and grove of shady trees. Clara glanced up and noticed the inspector’s intense features and the small lines of strain bracketing his mouth and eyes. He stood a little taller as well. His gaze flicked around every so often as though he anticipated something would jump out of the bushes at him or worse.

  They were still a few hours away from when she could begin the ceremony. Like her granmé said, she’d know the time. She woke up that morning, the fine electrical buzz of magick always flowing through her increased. She’d gasped at the sensation, alerting her sleeping mate to the change she’d felt. The wolf within bristled momentarily then sank into the warmth of her ancestral power. In truth, she hadn’t been expecting anything like she’d experienced. She felt so full of energy, life. Like her soul had somehow been transformed—reshaped into something bigger than the timber wolf lurking below the surface and the simple witch she’d become on her own. There were no true words to describe the feeling. The forcefulness of it called to her mate as well.

  Their combined cries and howls of pleasure rent the still morning air. For a while, Ezra lay on his back, the long trail of her claw marks down his chest, slowly healing. She hadn’t meant to mark him so harshly, nor had he meant to bite as deeply as he had. The animalistic pull between them had darkened into something mystical...again, words couldn’t properly describe the carnal actions that happened in those few hours before the rest of the house stirred for the day. It’d been primal, gut deep and left her feeling slightly tipsy with power.

  “It occurred to me, when I started this job, I’d see things not of this world and I’d be forced to open my eyes,” Inspector Sharpter stated, pulling her from her thoughts. “Endure what no one else could. Who’d have thought, I would be working with those I’d dispatched on a regular occurrence.”

  “Did you know, when I met Miss Annabelle I experienced the same as you?” This time, Clara did smile, remembering the day she met Annabelle. “I know my family. Our specialties, however to see this...I thought I flipped my wig.”

  “It is easy to feign ignorance in a situation like this,” Inspector Sharpter answered.

  “I suppose it is,” Clara answered, as they drew near the opening of the grove of trees. “Here, I need to be here.”

  Hoyt gave a curt nod. “Indeed.”

  Of course, without reading the spell first, she didn’t know what she’d need, so Clara brought a little bit of everything. The mirror her mama gave her, sage, white candles, rope to bind him—just in case. Chicken feet, brick dust, and black salt. A growl from her right drew Clara’s attention. She expected them too. When Ezra returned, he explained what happened after killing Marbella. These were the wolves still loyal to her. Nothing Clara or Ezra might say would change their minds.

  She ignored them for now. “Stay cl—”

  Hoyt yelped as one of the wolves yanked him backwards into the fog that hadn’t been there moments ago. Not again. It built around her as it had before when she and Annabelle were out patrolling London. The angry growls of those who couldn’t get through grew louder by the second until it seemed as though they’d become one voice and one giant wolf.

  In the distance, she could hear the shouts of her teammates, but she couldn’t focus on those, she had to keep to the task. If she were the least bit distracted, the Baron would snatch her, and she’d be lost forever. Her hand tightened on her bag. The book rested within it. She couldn’t show her hand. Doing so might change the Baron’s tactics and Clara wanted this done and over with.

  The ground vibrated below her. Shots were fired in the distance as the cries of the wolves surrounding her rang out. She pitched forward. Her heart raced while her hands trembled. Clara regained her balance. She swallowed around the lump of fear forming in her throat. She had to be strong. Stand tall. Her granmé wouldn’t let her fall. She’d always catch her.

  A bright flash illuminated the area in front of her, like lightning within the clouds during a summer storm. The Baron was there. The hairs on her arm stood on end. Her wolf rubbed against her skin, letting her know she truly wasn’t alone. As the fog cleared she could see her team—her family fighting the evil surrounding them. Some of the wolves disappeared into wisps of fog. Others fell in heaps covered in blood, their bodies morphing back into human form.

  The Baron’s laugh echoed within her mind. Clara dropped to her knee covering her ears to keep the wretched sound out. It ripped into her, stealing another piece of her soul. She needed to be quick. She needed to send him back to hell. Tears blurred her vision as she glanced up at the loa. A cruel grin twisted his painted face, creating a demonic visage.

  “Mon cher...” the Baron murmured. “It is time.”

  “I am not going anywhere with you,” Clara spat, reaching into her bag for the book. He needed to be closer. To be able to see his reflection in the mirror she carried with her. She wrapped her hand around the necklace her granmé gave her and sent a s
ilent prayer for strength and support.

  “Don’t fight. It’s your destiny,” Baron Samedi stated. “We are bound. You are the light to my darkness. You’ll give me passage to walk among the living without being summoned.”

  “No.” Clara shook her head. “My life is my own and you will not be using me for anything. You should have stayed away when I was a child.”

  “Non.” He shook his head. “Miss you? Never. We are meant to be. I can show you everything. Life. Death. I can show you the truth about humans. I can give you what your heart desires most.”

  What her heart desired most? She had it. She had the love of her life with Ezra. She was carrying his child. She had a twelve-year old son at home. She had friends. Family. A place she could call her own. She didn’t need anyone to show her more. She had it all and the loa in front of her was too stupid to see it, too blinded by his own needs to notice her family fighting to protect her.

  Clara stood a little taller. She opened the spell book to the back where her granmé’s spell book. There in her tilted, sharp script was the spell. A small smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth.

  “Je t'envoie, je t'envoie, je t'envoie,

  Des entrailles de la terre;

  Que mon hex donnera naissance

  Pour une malédiction terrible.

  Je t'envoie, je t'envoie, je t'envoie,

  À travers les pouvoirs obscurs qui sont;

  Que ton âme ne soit jamais libre

  De cette terrible malédiction.

  Je t'envoie, je t'envoie, je t'envoie;

  Alors, que ce soit;

  Que vous saurez la tristesse et le chagrin

  Et la misère continue.”

  The air whipped around her and she started the chant again. Electricity crackled in the sky, using the fog as a conduit. Her feet lifted off the ground. The Baron took a step backwards. His eyes went wide. Energy surged through her as she spoke the words for a third time. Her voice surprised Clara. It was as if it had been layered. A combination of hers, her granmé, her mother and so many others. She didn’t dare look away from Samedi. She didn’t want to break her concentration.

  He pushed against the barrier she’d made with the spell, trying to break her. She couldn’t let it happen. Clara grabbed the mirror and turned it towards the Baron. “Baron Samedi I—”

  “Cher.” The Baron held his hand out to her. “Think of what you’ll be giving up. Think of what you’ll be missing. We can rule the underworld together.”

  “Baron Samedi, I break the curse put on me and return it to the person who placed it onto me. I return you to whence you came.” She tightened her grip of the mirror and shoved it towards him.

  The ground began to rumble again. White light poured from the fissure. Black, slime-like tendrils slithered along the ground growing thicker by the second. Clara’s heart thundered in her chest as the first of the veins curled around the Baron’s legs. He fought them. Using the end of his cane he stomped on the appendages. Those that disintegrated when he crushed them reappeared two-fold. They were unstoppable. The urge to step back filled Clara, however she stood her ground. She’d see this through.

  Samedi fell to the ground; his screams were drowned out by the thunder rolling across the sky. They’d gone from day to night within a matter of minutes. The wind howled causing small tornadoes to swirl and bounce in the area they stood in. The Baron clawed at the ground, trying to desperately to keep from slipping back into the earth.

  “Please, cher...”

  A bright flash blinded Clara momentarily. When her vision returned, Papa Legba stood before her. His intimidating visage had her shrinking with fear. The Baron was one thing, Papa Legba was another. If Papa wanted her, there was nothing she or her family could do. Her heart sank. Her stomach clenched with anxious energy. He stared at her a moment more before closing the distance between he and Samedi.

  “You were warned.” Papa Legba threw Samedi over his shoulder. “I told you to stay away from the girl. She is no ones. You have disturbed this family for the last time.”

  His booming voice reverberated in her ears. She whimpered. Her knees went weak. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She cracked her eyes open and watched as Papa Legba disappeared in a flare of red light. Seconds later the ground ceased to move. The hole that had opened closed. The fog lifted and the storm dissipated. Bright, late afternoon sunshine warmed her chilled flesh. Birds chirped overhead and slowly the soft conversations of those in the park filled the silence surrounding her.

  “Child,” her granmé whispered. “It sure is a beautiful day.”

  Clara smiled. “It sure is.” She turned to her granmé and was surprised to see more family than she’d even heard about, standing behind her. “How many generations did you go?”

  Her granmé laughed. “All the way back. You needed their strength and their power. They knew you would win.”

  She wrapped her arms around the woman. “I wasn’t expecting...him.” Him being Papa Legba.

  “I might have talked to him a bit. Told him my chou chou needed help. He couldn’t deny the great Marie Laveau.” Her granmé grinned. “You did real good, child. Now, it’s time for you to move on with your life. Be a good mother and wife. Show your children the way.”

  Clara nodded as she stepped back. “I will. I promise.”

  “That’s all we need.”

  The solid figures of her ancestors became translucent then one by one drifted off, leaving her alone. She stood there for a moment, gathering her wits. The sounds of heavy footfalls grew near and then she was grabbed up by a strong pair of arms. Ezra. She buried her face in his chest and let out a sigh of relief. She did it. She finished it.

  “Smashing,” Charlie stated. “I haven’t had a good fight in years.”

  “Those wolves didn’t know what hit them,” Donovan added.

  “Are you hurt, my Creole Queen?” Ezra nuzzled her temple.

  “No,” she whispered. “Just happy that it’s over.”

  “Me too.” Ezra held her a little closer. “Let’s go home.”

  “Yes,” she answered. “Let’s go home.”

  Clara woke to bright sunshine filling their room. Ezra was curled up to her, the hard length of his erection pressed to her rear. Last night, they’d come home, told Omer and everyone what transpired in the park, then Ezra had taken her to bed. They’d made love twice before he allowed her to sleep. Now, as she lay there, pleasantly sore and happy, she relaxed, allowing herself to finally just be. She was finally free. She could return to her life. To whom she’d always been.

  Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going anywhere; she was right where she’d been meant to be. She giggled softly when Ezra growled.

  “You’re thinking too hard,” he muttered.

  “Not really.” She turned in his arms. “I’m free.”

  Ezra grinned. “You are. What would you like to do with this newfound freedom?”

  “Spend the day in bed with you,” she said. “If you’d like.”

  He growled again. “I say that’s a mighty fine idea.”

  “I love you, Ezra.”

  “And I you, Miss Clara.”

  Coming Soon

  The Copper Spyglass Nursery: Dreadfuls Series 3 (Late Summer 2018)

  Pick up your copy of Darkness Rises now: http://a.co/04OTS3W

  Author Bios

  TL Reeve, a multi-published/International Bestselling author, was born out of a love of family and a bond that became unbreakable. Living in Alabama, TL misses Los Angeles, and will one day return to the beaches of Southern California to ride the waves at Huntington Beach. When not writing something hot and sexy, TL can be found curled up with a good book or working on homework with a cute little pixie.

  Michele Ryan is a multi-published/International Bestselling author. She has embraced her creative passion and co-authored several books with fellow author and best friend TL Reeve and has also published two solo novellas. She is a lifelong resident of the stat
e of New Jersey, along with her husband and three children, whom she refers to as her hobbits. When Michele is not plotting or writing, she can be found either volunteering at her children’s school or reading.