HotHardHexing

by Mari Freeman

  As he passed the sign for the rest area exit ramp, he slammed on the brakes and pulled off the highway. He parked away from other travelers. He didn’t want them to sense blood magic or his anxiety. He needed to get away from it for a moment himself.

  This was the right thing to do. The Chiwa was dangerous. He was honor bound to return it to the Council and get the Prime to go after Q. If he were still a cop, he’d say he was doing it by the book.

  But he wasn’t a cop anymore—and that was because he’d thrown out the book. He’d acted on instinct instead of by the rules one too many times. He’d pushed the rules of human law and he’d pushed the rules the Council set down to protect the supernatural from humanity. Most of the time it had worked in his favor. Most of the time, using a little magic to snag a suspect hadn’t hurt anyone.

  Most of the time. He learned that lesson the hard way and at someone else’s expense. No more John Wayne for him. Procedures were in place for a reason. They worked.

  But Sonja was on her own. He’d left her that way.

  Ray stomped into the woods surrounding the rest area, away from the car. Then he paced back to the parking lot. He’d done the right thing. A Prime needed to be working on this case, not a Halfling and a washed-up cop. He threw himself back behind the wheel. The sooner he got back home, the sooner he could get the Prime to New Orleans to intercept Q. The sooner he could go on with his life. Maybe the Council would even lift his exile and he could quit living like a hermit in the woods.

  * * * * *

  While ignoring the speed at which the ground approached the plane, Sonja had fruitlessly tried to distract herself with a more detailed plan. If Q was following her, she needed to be less obvious until the exchange. She needed proof of life too. It occurred to Sonja that she’d not been given the opportunity to talk to Kara. Even on the TV shows, people did that.

  She also needed a few supplies. Stepping into a large shop on Bourbon Street, Sonja noted the tacky T-shirts lining one wall, the skirts and flip-flops on another. She quickly grabbed a black tank top from a shelf, some flops and a pair of black shorts before approaching the counter.

  “You have a pair of scissors? If these fit, I’ll cut the tags and wear them out.”

  The woman behind the counter smiled, but it was stiff as she gave Sonja the once-over. “Sure, honey. Just make sure you want ’em before you go cutting.”

  Sonja slid the clothes on in a dressing room. Not her style at all. Then she grabbed the scissors—and her hair. She shuddered as she tied it back in a ponytail and positioned the blades just above the rubber band.

  She closed her eyes and cut.

  It was harder to cut through than she’d anticipated. She had to re-cut three times to get through the thick wad of strands. Oh Goddess, she loved her hair but she needed to slip around without Q finding her so easily.

  When it was done, she had a cute little bob that hung just below her ears and a fist full of bargaining material. She hoped the Voodoo Queen still needed Dragon-Demon hair. Nell had said it was a very strong element for spells.

  Sonja looked in the mirror. She looked like a tourist. The tank was way too tight but, on the upside, the rhinestones that spelled out Geaux Saints did a great job of accentuating her bust. She’d never worn shorts quite this short before. She was much more of a jeans-and-t-shirt kind of girl. She huffed. Why did the tight clothing make her look younger? No way was she parading around like this back home.

  She trimmed the edges of her new ’do to even it up and was on her way.

  It was time to meet the local expertise.

  The shocked sales clerk, eyebrows raised, told her where to find the Voodoo shop, including instructions to be careful messing with that kind of stuff around these parts.

  After a short walk, Sonja stood outside the shop. It was just as her sister had described. She looked up and down the street. It seemed quiet for late afternoon. She was only a few blocks from the French Quarter and no one was around. The jazz she’d heard playing just two blocks over was muffled and sporadic. She leaned forward, peeking inside the open door of the shop. For such a bright day, it seemed pretty dark in there. Dark and scary.

  She stepped inside, the coolness making her feel as if she’d stepped into another world. Weird instrumental music was coming from another room and made a fitting background soundtrack for the shop. A hodgepodge of incense filled the air, so thick she couldn’t distinguish one particular scent. She glanced at a case filled with miniature Voodoo dolls that looked like puffy gingerbread men, fake gator skulls and plastic trinkets for spell work. All tourist junk.

  No one was behind the counter. Sonja moved farther into the tiny shop. African masks, wooden staffs and shrunken heads hung on the back wall. A rickety bookcase filled with dusty books on Voodoo and black magic leaned against the wall in a corner next to a tattered black curtain.

  That had to be the back room, where the real stuff was kept. Not an herb or mineral in sight out here. The colorful little elemental candles on the counter next to the register were the only things she thought might be used in a real spell. The rest were trinkets for human tourists. She caught sight of a few chicken feet. Maybe a Voodoo spell required those ugly things. What’d she know about Voodoo?

  “Hello?”

  “So they’s two of you Dragon girls.” A very thin black woman stepped out of the shadows, pushing the curtain back. “And you’s here right back ta back of one another.”

  Sonja stood straight. “I know you helped Nell. I need something too.”

  “You needs more than help, girly-girl, if’n you’s back here looking for that gris-gris.” She lit a short cigar and retreated, inviting Sonja to follow by holding the curtain open.

  Sonja followed into a smaller area with an old wood table and three spindly chairs. Crates and wooden kegs lined the floor around the small perimeter. Shelves full to the edges with dusty jars and mysterious-looking contents and tattered boxes covered two walls. “Actually I lost the necklace. I um…I need to make someone think I still have it.”

  The old woman cackled. She was missing a couple of teeth from her smile. “You lose such a powerful hex?” She shook her head and smoke danced out her nose. “Not so good, that.”

  “No shit.” The old woman looked up at her with a surprised scowl. Sonja knew she needed to keep her tongue. She needed this woman. “Sorry. I’m a bit on edge.”

  The woman gracefully slumped into one of the hard wooden chairs and motioned for Sonja to follow suit. “Tell ol’ Auntie about it.” She took another puff and made three perfect smoke rings.

  Sonja sat, happy to tell someone who wouldn’t want to take the box for his or her own purpose. Nell had said these women weren’t interested in the evil power that accompanied the Chiwa. This old woman’s niece had even been able to quiet the thing so it hadn’t called to every creature in New Orleans. Sonja momentarily wondered how Ray was dealing with that. She glanced at her watch. Six p.m. By now, he should be getting to Nell and Trent. She was running out of time.

  “Show me you hand, girly.” Auntie leaned in close. Sonja instinctively made a tight fist over the moth-shaped burn she’d gotten when she’d tried to use the magic to boost her visions. “Ah. You did it too, huh?” She tsked and crushed her cigar out in a short glass. “Had to open it up, didn’tcha?” She wrinkled her nose. “You even used it a little.” She stood and moved around the table to hover over Sonja, leaning in close, sniffing her skin.

  Auntie snorted. “Death spell.” She pointed at Sonja, her dark eyes making Sonja shiver. “You reek of it too.” She leaned in and looked deep into her eyes, putting her bony hand on Sonja’s shoulder, gripping her tight. The lingering scent of stale smoke wafted from Auntie’s clothes. “Feel anything?” She put a hand on Sonja’s forehead as if to check her temperature. “Weirdness in your mind?” She slid her other hand from Sonja’s shoulder to her heart. “Do it hurt?”

  “No.” Nothing hurt, but Sonja was getting a little frightened of the wom
an.

  “Auntie, leave the poor girl alone.” Sonja looked past Auntie to see a much younger woman entering the back room through the curtain. She was beautiful, and wearing a bright yellow top over a flowing floral skirt.

  “Barri?” Sonja stood, pulling away from the old woman. This was the blind Voodoo Queen Nell had told her about. This was the woman who could help her. “My name is Sonja.”

  “A sister Dragon to Miss Nell.” She took a step closer, reaching forward. Sonja moved so she could take a seat. “Thank you,” she said as if she could see Sonja’s gesture, and sat.

  “I feel your angst and the power of the Chiwa in you. And the presence of another. How is it you come to me so out of sorts?”

  Sonja sat in an empty chair. “I…um. I used the Chiwa to try to help a friend. My cousin, actually. Someone wants to trade it for her. And I don’t have it.”

  Barri reached out and touched her face, feeling her way around Sonja’s features. Her hand dropped and she placed her palm on Sonja’s side, over the burn scars. Barri sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Sonja felt the heat from her hand through the fabric of the tight tank top. She wanted to pull away, to stand and go. Rarely did anyone touch her scars. Not since she was a kid. Not since her mom died. The few lovers she’d had went to great lengths to act as if that part of her anatomy didn’t exist.

  “You hold the hot guilt of that day in these scars. You have to let that go. To accomplish your goals, you will need to trust yourself.”

  Turning slightly to move her body away from Barri’s reach, she dislodged the woman’s hand. She didn’t hold anything from that day. Sonja barely remembered getting the burn. Just pain later. And shaky images of doctors and tubes and the blood. It was the recovery that had never left her mind, the weeks and weeks of bandages and surgeries, and her little sister Trina’s sad face. How was a six-year-old girl supposed to control herself? She hadn’t meant to hurt Sonja.

  Trina carried as many scars from that day as Sonja. Maybe even more.

  Her past was not what she needed to attend to at the moment. Kara was still in danger. “I need something that can fool a Dreamstalker into believing I have the box. Can you do that?”

  Auntie cackled. “You intend’n what, girly?” She made her way toward the front of the store. “Barri, these Dragons bring you nothin’ but bad mojo.” She turned and mumbled something in a language Sonja didn’t understand. She pulled one of the glass jars from a shelf and sprinkled some of its contents across the threshold. “She ain’t got no hair to trade, neither. Least ways not long like the golden-haired Dragon had.”

  Sonja reached into the shopping bag and pulled out the banded bunch of hair she’d cut off in the shop. She let it drop onto the wooden table.

  “Holy Jesus, Mother Mary!” Auntie scurried over and grabbed the bunch from the table. She stretched a few stands out and ran her tongue over them. “That’ll make for a whole mess of works there. Never you mind, Barri. We can work wid dat.”

  Barrie snuffed the air. “May I touch you again, Sonja Ambercroft?”

  “No.” It came out gruff, but she’d had enough of the Psychic Friends show. “How do you know my name?” Sonja was really feeling uncomfortable. Maybe coming here had been a bad idea.

  “I knew your sister’s last name from before. I felt yours earlier.” She fished a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose with so little sound Sonja wondered what the point had been.

  “Silly girly. My niece is a Mambi Priestess. Her powers are more. She will takes up your power too as she sit wid you.” Auntie took a slow swig from a bottle containing some sort of thick, dark fluid. “You mess wid a Dreamstalker, you need to smarten up and show some respect. That golden Dragon, she had respect.”

  She meant Nell, of course. Whereas Sonja’s Dragon was a teal Water Dragon, Nell’s other was a golden Air Dragon. And Trina’s…well, it was the red Fire Dragon. The old woman was right. “I’m sorry. I’m running out of time. They have my cousin. A cop stole the Chiwa from me and is taking it back to the Prime. You helped the Prime too. Trent?”

  Barrie nodded. “Your sister’s Werewolf.”

  “Yes. I stole the box from them and tried to use it to boost my visions so I could find Kara. I lost it to Gremlins then lost it to someone who’s trying to turn it back in to the Prime.”

  “Reward on it?” The old woman slid back into her seat.

  “No. He’s doing what he thinks is the right thing.” She shook her head as she heard herself justifying Ray’s actions. “It doesn’t matter. It’s gone. And I’m supposed to be at a club with it at midnight to make an exchange.”

  “How have you kept that secret from the Dreamstalker? That you’ve lost the talisman? Is he not in your head?” Barri tilted her own and her blank eyes searched the space Sonja occupied.

  Sonja felt a rush of heat to her face. “He’s been preoccupied, playing games in my head. I’ve been able to keep his attention there and away from the facts of the matter. So far. That’s another reason I can’t wait for the Prime and the Council to come to my rescue. If I don’t show up, or if I show up empty-handed, he’ll get spooked and Kara will be dead.”

  Barri agreed with a head bob. Auntie whistled. “Oh, girly-girl. You is in a whole heap of mess. But making somethin’ like that box is kind of hard on such short time.”

  Barri stood and glided toward the front. “Yes, the box would be difficult to replicate, but the gris-gris…” She turned back just before reaching the curtain, as if she saw the thing hanging there. “I think I could replicate the Chiwa itself. Maybe not for close inspection, but to give you a few minutes to get your cousin.”

  “That could work. I could tell him that Ray stole the box. It is gold. Tempting to most.” Maybe she wasn’t totally screwed after all. Maybe this just might work. A sense of relief flooded her. She didn’t realize she’d been so uptight until she felt her shoulders relax and fall a good two inches.

  “And don’t forgets that big piece of glass on that thing.” Auntie took another swig from the bottle. Sonja almost found the curiosity about its contents too much to bear. She glanced around the room. Her gaze landed on a jar containing something that looked suspiciously like a tongue, and Sonja decided she did not want to know what that old woman was drinking.

  “The diamond. Yeah. That would be worth stealing and dumping me in a hotel while my cousin’s life is on the line.” What if that was why he’d taken it? He talked all high and mighty about the Council and doing the right thing, but maybe the thought of how much it might be worth changed his mind. The lure of that kind of money would be hard to resist. He lived in that tiny cabin, had been tossed off the human police force. God knows what kind of trouble he was in with the Council. Ray could sell the box alone and get enough cash to go wherever he wanted.

  The idea that he’d screwed her for money didn’t sit well. She felt sure that wasn’t it though. He’d been too good to her. Well, other than the whole taking-the-box thing. Sonja wished it were all different. He was cute, he was strong, was really good with this tongue. In her fantasies, anyway. But that had been implanted by the Dreamstalker.

  She shook off the entire train of thought. Ray was gone. He’d left her in a bad spot. The crazy attraction she felt for him was either hallucination or insanity. So like her.

  “You are drawn to him as well,” Barri announced. But before Sonja could reply, she asked, “May I touch you again? I promise not to encroach on the scars. I want to feel what you have of the Dreamstalker in you.”

  “I don’t think there’s much there. He’s just been sending me visions.” She stood and yanked the tight tank down over her shorts. “Where do we start?”

  “He’s used you and your cousin because a Dreamstalker would not be able to handle the Chiwa directly. Not without grave effects. Energy from the earth and everything they come into contact with pours through Dreamstalkers. They have little control over it. Bottom feeders of the supernatural. They get their powe
r and their kicks from sponging off others. The downside to that is they cannot filter.”

  She stood just in front of Sonja, face-to-face. It felt as if Barri’s clouded eyes were looking right through her. Again Sonja wanted to take a step back, out of that prying energy, but the table at the back of her legs preventing her moving.

  “I may have changed his plans. When I used the Chiwa, I broke the spell you put on it to quiet the call, the feel of the blood magic. Maybe that’s why he had me carry it all the way here.”

  “Be prepared for him to try to use ya up and leave ya with grits for brains.” Auntie’s warning sent a shiver up Sonja’s spine. “You be needin’ that Dragon of yours to fight with ya on dis one.”

  Too bad Sonja couldn’t count on that.

  Chapter Ten

  The gray door looked too narrow and too tall and had been harder to find than she’d anticipated. She was almost late. Again. The only indication that there was a club behind that door was a miniature license plate nailed above it that read Paradise. Sonja walked past it twice because it was wedged between two antique shops that were closed for the day. No numbers, nothing to indicate what she was afraid she’d find behind the plain-looking exterior.

  Paradise, my ass.

  She ran through the plan in her head, what little there was of it. She felt the icky residue of the mimicked blood magic on her skin. It was pretty convincing. She tugged at the legs of the shorts, attempting to cover more of her rear, and wished she’d chosen a different look for her disguise.

  She glanced at the red burn scar in her palm. Maybe those were Black Witch moths instead of butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Either way, she was nervous and she wished Ray had stuck with her. He would be handy to have along in this situation.

  She turned the knob and the door popped open a few inches. She opened it farther to find only a small foyer and an empty stairwell with peeling white paint and a yellow bug light hanging from a bare fixture. At the top of the stairs she could see another gray door. To her right was a bank of five mailboxes mounted on the wall. Two were missing their doors. One was closed. She tried the latch and it opened.