“I said, ‘let’s sit somewhere else.’ At first, Jeff was fine with it, but everywhere he went, there was a shadow sitting in the seat. Maybe it was the same one dicking with me. I don’t know. That’s happened before.
“So, finally, I said, ‘this place is too haunted for me.’ He laughed, but when he looked at my face and saw that I wasn’t kidding, he said some hurtful things, and we left. He refused to take me home. Said he didn’t want a devil worshiper in his car. I had to walk home.”
“All the way to that house in the bayou?” Cash asks.
“Yeah. It was horrible. The bayou is horribly haunted. I got home well after midnight, and my sisters were worried sick.”
“What about your mom?” Asher asks.
“She slapped me across the face when I walked through the door.”
“She’s a lovely woman,” Cash assures Asher. “So far, what I’ve learned from this is: I need to kick Jeff Anderson’s ass, and your mom is a grade-A bitch.”
“I won’t disagree.” I shrug a shoulder. “I know it’s not Jeff doing this. The people who leave my life because of my abilities do so because it scares them. I don’t have to be a shrink to know that. It’s never made someone so angry that they wanted to kill me or anyone who looks like me. That would make them—”
“Psychotic,” Cash finishes for me. “And, yes, it could happen. But I’m inclined to agree that it’s unlikely. I’m also sorry that you had to deal with so many jerks.”
“Everyone does.”
“Are there any more shadows lurking around here?” Asher asks.
“Dozens,” I confirm. “But those are the only two in this room. There’s one that stands behind the receptionist. It looks over her shoulder as if its checking her work.”
“My office?” Asher asks.
“None in there.”
There is one in there, but there’s no need to scare him.
“Well, thank Christ for that. And I’m at a loss for what to do now. The bastard failed tonight.”
“That’s going to make him angry,” Cash says. “He’ll strike again. If he hasn’t already. And it’ll escalate. He’ll increase the speed in which he kills them.”
“He’s going pretty fast already,” I say. “When I was there tonight, two of the girls were gone, and he had two more in their place.”
“Wait, you were there tonight?” Cash asks.
“Yes. One of the dead girls alerted me to wake up.”
“Were you able to ask questions? Walk through the house?” Asher asks.
“I was interrupted before I could walk through the door, but I was able to talk to the other girl again. The one who told me the killer calls them all by my name.”
“What else did she say?”
“That she fights back, and she doesn’t let him see that she’s afraid of him. She has older brothers. That’s really it.”
“You have to do it again,” Asher says. “Right now.”
“I’m not able to make myself do it,” I remind him. “I don’t know what triggers it, aside from the girls being desperate for me to find their bodies. But Millie has been asking around and poring through the book. I’ll go to her in a few hours and see if she’s made any headway.”
“I want to catch this son of a bitch before he kills anyone else,” Asher says. “He’s going down.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brielle
“I’m dead on my feet.”
“That’s not funny,” Millie says, frowning at me from behind the counter. We’re at Witches Brew, and she’s filling an order while I read through our grandmother’s book.
Meme didn’t have the best penmanship.
Some of it is hard to read. Either that or it’s in another language, which is entirely possible.
“I want to add the love potion,” Millie’s male customer says, winking at her. “Let’s roll the dice and see if it works.”
“All I ask is that you take it outside before you drink it,” my sister says, laughing. “If I had a dollar for every man who’s fallen in love with me after drinking this, I’d be at least fifty dollars richer.”
“I might fall in love with you without the potion,” Flirty Customer says with another wink.
“Sorry, you’re not my type,” Millie says and flashes a sassy grin as she builds his vanilla chai latte and adds the love potion.
“What, you don’t like devastatingly handsome, rich men?”
“I don’t like married men,” she replies smoothly, stirring his drink.
“How did you—?”
“I don’t call it Witches Brew for nothing.” She winks, and when she moves her hand away from the drink, it continues to stir without her, making the customer swallow hard. “I suggest, if you drink that, you do it while looking at your wife so you fall in love with her since you promised to do so until death do you part.”
She passes him his change, offers him a friendly wave, and once he’s through the door, she blows a loud raspberry through her lips.
“Dudes like that are disgusting,” she says as she leans over the counter toward me. “Have you found anything good?”
“Not yet. Most of it is gibberish to me.”
“That’s because you don’t speak witch.” She frowns when her eyes drop to my neck. “Where’s your pendant?”
“Oh.” I reach for it, but it’s not there. “I must not have put it back on after my shower. I’ll text Cash and ask him to bring it with him when he comes this way for lunch.”
I pull my phone out of my bag and shoot off the message, then frown down at the book.
“What if this doesn’t work, Mill?”
“There isn’t another option,” she says and waves at another customer who just walked through the door. “Go ahead and sit anywhere. I’ll be right over to take your order.”
“I love your café.”
Her grin is wide and proud. “Me, too. How does it feel in here today?”
I let myself look around the space. “No shadows.”
“I smudged last night, and it should hold for a while. Are the girls still around?”
“There are six, but they stay outside. I don’t know why they can’t come in.”
“Let’s be frank here, I’m glad they stay on the sidewalks. It would just be awful if you had to stare at mangled bodies all day.”
“You have a good point.”
“Miss? We’re ready to order.”
Millie hurries over to the couple at the table in the corner, and I stare down at a yellowed page of the book.
The thing is huge. I’ve always seen big, magical tomes full of spells and recipes for potions in movies like Practical Magic or even Hocus Pocus, which always makes me laugh because my sisters and I look just like the Sanderson sisters—if we were evil witches, of course.
But I never expected these books to really exist. Not until we found this one in the house under floorboards in the little storage room where we hid.
“It has to be a hundred and three degrees outside,” Millie says as she hurries behind the counter to fix the customers’ drinks.
“Feels like it,” I agree.
“How can people drink hot coffee on a day like this?” She shakes her head and starts up the steamer. “It perplexes me.”
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Daphne says as she rushes inside, carrying a large tote bag full of notes and books. “I’ve been at the library doing a little research.”
“Wait, you went to the library?” I stare at her in shock. “Daph, that place must wreak havoc on you.”
“Not fun,” she agrees. “I can’t tell you how many people have sex in libraries. It’s disgusting. Not to mention, there were some books that people used to try and figure out how to kill someone and get away with it.”
“Our killer?”
“Not that I could tell. No, mostly, they were people trying to off their spouses. It’s just sad. Anyway, my shields are up, and I’m careful. Millie and I didn’t find much in Grandma’s book abo
ut dream-walking. Yet, anyway. There are some passages written in Cajun and a couple of others in what looked to be Latin that we couldn’t decipher, and Millie’s going to ask Miss Sophia what they say. In the meantime, I did some digging on dream-walking.”
“Is there an instruction manual?”
“I wish.” She digs around in her bag and slaps some books and loose papers on the counter. “Hey, Mill? Can I please get an iced chai? I’ll love you forever.”
“You’ll love me forever anyway. But, yes. Do you want anything, Bri?”
“I’ll have the same as Daphne, thanks.”
“I’m adding some—”
“Yes, yes. Of course, you are,” Daphne says, waving our sister off. “Now, as I said, there is no manual on how to do it. Unfortunately, like most things that are part of our reality, it’s not really something that’s been studied, and therefore, we don’t understand exactly how it works.”
“We already know all of that.”
“But there are some interesting meditations and incantations in here that might help.” She thumbs through the book until she arrives at the page she wants. We both accept our drinks from Millie.
“I have a call out to Miss Sophia, but there was an emergency with a coven up in Shreveport, and I don’t know how long she’ll be gone,” Millie says.
“She’ll get back to us soon,” I say and sip my drink, then frown. “What’s in this?”
“Two potions this time. It makes it a little bitter, sorry.”
“You take all the fun out of lattes,” Daphne says but sips her own drink. “Okay, it says here that you need to breathe deeply as you lie in bed and close your eyes. Think about the place you want to travel to or the person you want to talk to. Or both, I guess. Have an imaginary conversation or think about the landmarks along the way from where you are to your final destination.”
“Basically, literally go there in your head,” Millie says.
“Yes, exactly.” Daphne takes another sip of her drink. “Do it over and over again until you fall asleep.”
“That seems too simple.”
Both sisters glance up at me.
“Right? I mean, if it were that simple, people would have arguments with other people in their sleep all the damn time.”
“Not everyone is psychic,” Daphne reminds me. “And, maybe they do, but they just don’t remember it the next day.”
“Or they just chalk it up to a weird dream,” Millie adds. “Most civilians pass off dreams or mystical encounters as something explainable. A bump in the night? The house is settling. They think they hear a voice? Must be the neighbor’s TV.”
“I get it,” I reply with a sigh. “Okay, so don’t make it hard. Simple is good. I need to lie down and breathe and think about that horrible place.”
“I hate this so much,” Millie says, covering my hand with hers. “I hate that you’re the target and that you have to see these unspeakable things. It’s not okay. None of this is.”
“We’ve dealt with not okay since birth, my sweet sister,” I remind her.
“It’s your turn for okay,” Daphne says, sighing. “Yes, I know I’ve been a bitch in the past about the whole Jackson thing, but you don’t deserve this, Bri. I don’t understand it.”
“I don’t either. I just wish I could see who he is.”
Daphne turns to Millie. “You’re psychic. Can’t you see?”
“She can’t reach out, Daphne. You know—”
“I can’t see him,” Millie says quietly. “I’ve looked, but I can’t see him.”
“Wait. You looked?” I sit back and stare at my sister in horror. “Millie, if you’d seen him, if you’d crawled into his head—”
“I didn’t,” she interrupts. “And you’re my sister, Brielle. Of course, I looked, the consequences be damned. You’d do the same for me.”
“I wish I’d known the girl was at the police station,” Daphne says. “I might have been able to touch her and see him that way.”
“Damn, it didn’t even cross my mind.” I shake my head. Why didn’t I think of that? “She’s long gone back to Dallas now.”
“The dream-walking is the best bet for now,” Millie says on a sigh and watches as her customers finish their coffees and leave the café.
“Should we talk quieter? This will creep the hell out of your customers,” Daphne says.
“They can’t hear us,” Millie says with a smile. “And don’t ask me how. You don’t want to know.”
“Speaking of creepy,” I mutter and take a sip of my chai.
“I don’t like it,” Cash says quietly. “The investigator in me understands that this has to happen, but the man in me wants to say, ‘hell no’ and take you out of here altogether.”
“I know.” I cup his face and let the warmth of him seep into me. It makes me feel comforted. Treasured. Safe. “But we have to finish this.”
“Let me take you somewhere when it’s all over,” he says and kisses my palm. “Anywhere. An island somewhere. Or we can get lost in Europe.”
“Europe might kill me.” I smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. “But the island sounds lovely.”
“An island it is, then.” He clears his throat. We’re lying on the bed, and I’ve told him how I go about trying to dream-walk intentionally. Both of my sisters are in the living room, on hand in case I need them to pull me out.
I don’t know how they’ll know if I need them, but Millie assured me that she would know.
I have to trust her.
And I do. There is no one in the world that I trust more than the three people in my apartment with me right now.
I swallow hard, close my eyes, and begin taking long, slow breaths.
In through the nose.
Out through the mouth.
I don’t know the way to where I’m going, so I can’t think about that, but I do know what it looks like when I get there, so I imagine those details. I picture the dirty room, the blood on the floor, the dingy window. My nose wrinkles as I think of the stench. The heaviness that hangs in the room from the death and despair.
I wonder how many girls there have been. I know we think there were a few dozen at least, but I have a feeling there have been many more than that. I don’t have to be a profiler to know that this isn’t something he just started doing over the past six years.
He likes it way too much for it to be that new.
And if he’s middle-aged, like Shelly seemed to think, he’s likely been at this for decades.
I think of the girls. The six who continue to follow me, and the three in the room the last time I was there in my dream-walk.
I imagine the one who can see me, who talks to me.
I hope with everything in me that she’s still alive.
“You’re back.”
It worked. I’m here! I glance at the girl and feel immense relief that she’s still alive.
“And you’re still here.”
“He was mad tonight,” she says, and her eyes flick to her left. Two more girls have joined the ones already there, making it five young women being held now. There are only three toddler beds against the wall, so the new girls sit on the floor, awkwardly tied to the bedposts.
They’re both crying and shaking. He’s stripped them naked, but aside from that, it doesn’t look as if he’s hurt them.
Yet.
And they can’t see me.
“What’s your name?” I ask the girl.
“Sarah,” she whispers. “Sarah Chandler. But he calls us all Brielle.”
“I know. But I won’t call you that. You’re Sarah. I want you to remember that. Hold onto your name, do you hear me?”
She nods quickly. “I’m Sarah. I have three older brothers, and I am a veterinarian.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
A ghost of a smile tickles her lips.
“I’m going to look around, Sarah. I need to gather more information for the police. I need to know how to find all of you, okay?”
&n
bsp; She nods again, and I walk away, headed to the door.
It’s locked.
Frustration is swift and all-encompassing, but I turn and try to find other clues.
Maybe there are papers on the workbench. I walk that way and look around, disappointed to find it recently cleaned. There’s not even any blood on it now. No papers on the shelves either.
I glance around the room. There are no photos on the walls. Only the braids hang on the walls, and the roman numeral IV written in blood beside one of the small beds. Four.
Did someone cut themselves and then count the days until they died?
The thought sends a shiver through me.
I hear footsteps.
The girls whimper as the steps grow louder, approaching the door.
I’m going to see him! I’m finally going to see his face, and then I can tell Asher and Cash what he looks like, and we can find out who he is. We can put him away. We can make all of this stop.
The doorknob rattles.
The girls cower.
Sarah stares at me in horror.
But he doesn’t come inside. There’s a long pause, and then the steps fade away again.
The girls sigh in relief.
“He does that all the time,” Sarah says. “It’s just another way to fuck with us. Scare us. He taunts us mercilessly. Constantly. That’s the worst part of all. Death would be a welcome escape from this hell.”
“No.” I rush to her and reach out, but my hand moves right through her.
I can’t touch her.
I can’t help her.
I’ve never been so damn frustrated in all my life.
The sun glints off something under Sarah’s bed.
“There’s a knife right under you.”
Her eyes grow wide, and she struggles to see over the side. “I can’t reach it.”
“I have to get that knife into your hands.”
I try to pick it up, but I can’t grasp it.
Damn it!
Sarah looks at the girl sitting on the floor. “Hey, do you see a knife under my bed?”
The girl is crying.
“Stop crying and listen to me.” That gets her attention. “I need you to pass me that knife.”
The girl sees the weapon and uses her toes to pick it up and drop it on Sarah’s bed. Sarah palms it in her free hand.
Shadows: A Bayou Magic Novel Page 11