The Seven Year Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 2

by Jodi Redford

  That’s where he was mistaken. It wouldn’t be forever.

  Only four days.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Breakfast with her father went better than she’d anticipated. He seemed to have forgotten all about her mother’s previous visit. As for the painful reminiscences that he did recall—the ones that seemed to haunt his fractured memory like overzealous ghosts—fortunately those he kept to a minimum during their chat. By the time she kissed him goodbye and headed out to her car, it was well past noon.

  Her cell phone buzzed, and she quickly checked the caller ID, spotting Domino’s private line. Damn. Now what?

  She clicked the talk button, and after dispensing with the stiff, mutually grudging pleasantries, was informed that her presence was required at HQ. She hung up, cursing her luck. In her typical fashion, Domino hadn’t elaborated on what the urgent business was pertaining to, but Clarissa had weathered enough meetings with the head guild leader to know she’d likely have a migraine by the time it was over. After ensuring her bottle of Motrin was adequately stocked, she drove to the Italianate mansion housing the Alliance headquarters.

  Willa greeted her at the door. The younger witch wore a frazzled expression, and her sable-brown bob looked like it was the victim of repeated finger pulling or a drive-by tornado. Not exactly a surprise. Considering who poor Willa was forced to deal with on a daily basis, it was a freaking miracle she hadn’t gone bald years ago. But what was odd was the harrowed look in Willa’s eyes as she stared at her. “She’s waiting for you in her office.”

  “Are you okay?” Clarissa demanded, worried.

  “No, probably not. In fact, I’m pretty sure there’s a padded cell somewhere with my name stenciled on it.” With that cryptic comment hanging in the air, she led the way to Domino’s corner suite. After ushering Clarissa inside, Willa exited and shut the door.

  Domino eyed Clarissa for a long moment, the sharp angles of her cheekbones adding to the overall hawkish expression she’d perfected. “Thank you for coming. I imagine your schedule must be overloaded, just with the ceaseless hours you’ve obviously put in turning my daughter against me.”

  Oh sweet hell. Her temple already giving a dull throb, Clarissa crossed to Domino’s desk and squarely met the woman’s icy glare. “If you’re referring to me helping Marabella follow her dream, then yes, I’m guilty as charged. But I refuse to stand here and let you accuse me of anything more than that.”

  “She’s moving out.” Domino’s expression hinted that such an offense should be punishable by death. Not Marabella’s, of course, but Clarissa’s—for the part she’d played in Marabella’s newfound freedom. “She wouldn’t have even fathomed such an idea without your involvement.”

  Don’t be so certain. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Domino’s obtuseness, she waved her arm. “I don’t know why you’re throwing such a conniption. Marabella is twenty-four years old, for goddess’s sake. Plenty of women her age would have moved out long before now. It’s time for her to spread her wings. Respect that, and stop controlling every aspect of her life.”

  “Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter.” Domino’s features tightened, her voice going shrill.

  She half-expected Domino’s silk pantsuit to tear to shreds like the Incredible Hulk’s as the woman’s fury detonated. “I’m not. But you’re doing Marabella a grave injustice by encouraging her self-doubts at every turn.”

  “Well I don’t want you encouraging her fool idea of pursuing this business. She’ll only fall flat on her face, making a complete embarrassment of herself.”

  Before Clarissa could utter a word, the door suddenly banged open behind her. She pivoted as Willa stormed into the room.

  The outrage Domino had displayed seconds ago was nothing compared to the lividness riding Willa’s elfin face. “You know what, she’s right.” Willa jabbed a finger in Clarissa’s direction, but her hard focus never left Domino. “You’ve been smothering Marabella her entire life. Here’s an idea—let her live hers and find your own.”

  Clarissa didn’t know who was more stunned, her or Domino. Where was the timid Willa who never lifted her voice to anyone?

  Domino’s spell of speechlessness splintered, and her frosty eyes pinned Willa in place. “Were you listening at the door?”

  “No. Intercom. Much easier.”

  Domino’s tongue momentarily failed her again. Finally she shook her head. “Willa, what has gotten into you?”

  “I have no damn idea.”

  Huffing, Domino smoothed the lapels of her jacket, the expensive diamond solitaire on her ring finger sparkling. “Well, I don’t like it.”

  “Tough. Fire me.”

  Domino’s jaw dropped. The guild leader rocked in her seat, her obvious agitation showing. “I advise you not to tempt me.”

  “Ha! We both know that’s an empty threat. No one else would put up with your ass.” Snorting, Willa turned and stalked from the office.

  Leaving a gaping-mouthed Domino behind, Clarissa trailed after the younger witch. She halted next to Willa’s desk and watched as the other woman plopped into her chair. “Wow, that was something to see. I would never have guessed you had it in you.”

  “Me either.” Groaning, Willa buried her face in her hands. “I can’t keep going on like this. Sooner or later, I will get fired, then what will I do? I can’t live on Ramen noodles forever.”

  The abrupt change in Willa’s demeanor was enough to give Clarissa whiplash. Had the girl merely been putting on a good front earlier? If so, she was one hell of an amazing actress. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Like you said, Domino could never replace you. And she knows it.”

  Willa’s bleakness showed no signs of dissolving. After an awkward hesitation, Clarissa tentatively patted the girl on the arm. It was ridiculous how even that small gesture made her break out in a cold sweat. But that didn’t stop her from experiencing a small spark of pride for meeting the beast of her insecurities head on. “Do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you? It might help.”

  Her palms dragging down her face, Willa peered at her. “That’s part of the problem. I don’t really understand what is bothering me. All I know is that I haven’t been myself lately. I have no idea who I am anymore.”

  “Maybe you’ve just been under too much stress. Domino and the rest of the guild are pros at dishing it out.”

  “I wish I could say that’s what it is, but I don’t think so.” Willa’s fingers listlessly skimmed over her computer keys, her troubled gaze affixed to the cursor blinking on the monitor. “I’ve been having weird dreams, only they feel more like…visions. Or memories that aren’t mine.”

  Clarissa leaned her hip on the desk’s edge, mulling the possibilities. A past-life experience coming back to haunt Willa? Constance had a better grasp on such things. Maybe a regression reading was in order. Just as she was about to suggest it, Willa jerked her hand away from the keyboard as if it’d stung her.

  “Levi.”

  She frowned at Willa. “What?”

  “Levi. That word keeps popping into my head. Like everything else, I don’t know why. But just the sound of it makes me feel dizzy and claustrophobic. Like I’m drowning. Like we’re all drowning.”

  Ah, now they were getting somewhere. Willa’s fear of drowning was nothing new. After losing both her parents and nearly her own life to the watery depths of the Atlantic when she was only eight, Willa had developed a crippling phobia of large bodies of water. Perhaps whatever she was encountering now was just a new manifestation of her repressed terror.

  “I see them all drowning,” Willa whispered, her tone haunted. “Jenny Cavanaugh. Lois Grimes. Hundreds more.”

  Clarissa blinked. “Jenny Cavanaugh?”

  “Ever since the day she slipped into that coma, I’ve witnessed her drowning a thousand times over. She keeps reaching for me from the center of that oily cesspool of a lake, but I can’t save her.” Willa’s voice broke on a soft sob. “I can’t save any of them.”


  A frigid shiver of dread and disbelief arced through Clarissa, and she staggered. It would have been beyond easy to trick herself into believing the nightmare Willa was recounting was a coincidence and nothing to do with her own personal drama. But she’d seen that oil-slicked lake of death. And the countless souls being herded to their doom. Her chest cramping, she knuckled the edge of the desk.

  Oh, sweet goddess. No.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sneaking into St. Joseph’s ICU proved to be an insurmountable obstacle she hadn’t counted on. Which only added to her mountainous pile of frustrations. She didn’t know precisely what she would have discovered if she had been able to sweet talk her way into Jenny Cavanaugh’s room, or any of the others. Probably nothing. Certainly no hard evidence that would link Seven to this string of coma cases. Not that she needed substantiated proof. Her gut feeling more than verified her suspicions.

  As she drove to the coven house, she sorted through the little bit of information that she did have. In addition to Willa’s revealing visions, the timing of the comas in relation to Seven’s return to Savannah was too relevant to be overlooked. Was it possible that the creature hadn’t only returned to contract more souls, but to collect the ones it already owned? Who was to say she wasn’t the only one who’d had dealings with the son of a bitch seven years ago? The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that she wasn’t the only one Seven had came for. She was willing to bet that if the backgrounds of the coma victims were known, there’d be a glaring clue pointing in Seven’s direction.

  Fortunately, she did know a thing or two about one of the victims, Jenny Cavanaugh.

  Jenny’s gambling problem wasn’t a secret. She’d nearly lost everything because of it. Judging from Jenny’s current state, it was a safe bet that she had lost her soul as a direct result of her addiction.

  What had Seven alluded to in her lucid dream? Not only was the sin attracted to you, but you to it? With that in mind, it didn’t take any stretch of the imagination to see how Jenny would have been a sitting duck for several of Seven’s personalities. Greed and possibly even Lust seemed likely candidates.

  But that still didn’t explain how Seven talked Jenny into signing the contract. Why would a woman who had just about everything money could buy suddenly—?

  The answer slammed into Clarissa with the impetus of an anvil. Jenny had almost lost her entire inheritance. Could it be that Seven reversed her misfortune in return for her soul?

  It made sense. She herself had given up rights to her soul in exchange for her father’s. People in desperate situations did desperate things. If her father were in any frame of mind to remember the events that led up to his meeting with Seven, no doubt he’d reveal whatever the creature had bartered his soul with.

  Her head spinning from the overload of revelations, she pulled into the coven house’s driveway and killed the engine. Tossing her keys into her purse, she raced up the porch steps. The interior of the house was quiet, which meant she could squirrel away in her office uninterrupted for at least a few minutes. Hopefully long enough to figure out what she could do with the information she’d gleaned about Seven.

  She was past saving herself at this point, but if there was the slightest chance she could somehow keep one less soul from Seven’s twisted cache, then by the goddess, she would.

  Dropping into her chair, she yanked a pen and a tablet of paper toward her. She jotted each of Seven’s sins on a separate line, leaving room for her notations. The most logical course of action would be an intervention. But in order to do that, she needed to determine the most likely places where Seven would be hunting for victims.

  It’s not only what Envy hungers for in you…

  Yes. The key didn’t just lie with Seven, but within the potential victims themselves. What sort of places would draw people so desperate and at the end of their rope that they would sign away their soul?

  Her focus returned to the list of sins. Greed. Jenny Cavanaugh had frequented the riverboat casino quite a bit—a spot no doubt teeming with prey. Clarissa noted a few other leads before moving on to the next sin. Lust. Well, that was pretty much a no-brainer. Nightclubs and various places that catered to the pursuit of sexual fulfillment would be right up Lust’s alley. There was even a sex club in the city. It wasn’t widely advertised, for obvious reasons, but she knew about it through Constance after her coven sister admitted she liked to go there on occasion to watch the entertainment, so to speak.

  Clarissa flipped open her laptop and powered it on. Once the system finished booting up, she ran a basic search for local establishments that might prove to be hotspots. By the time she was done, she’d managed to fill the piece of paper with half a dozen prospects. Armed with that, she hurried outside and jumped back into the Miata. She glanced at the time on the dashboard. A little under two hours before she’d be able to catch the first sailing on the casino cruise. She could hit a couple of bars in the meantime. If she was lucky, Seven would be working under the same game plan.

  The first couple of bars she tried were on West Bay Street, practically next-door neighbors to each other. It made for convenience, but unfortunately she didn’t spot any of the sins. By the time she walked into the fourth joint—a small hole-in-the-wall appropriately named Cubbies—her confidence in tracking Seven had started to take a nosedive, but not her determination. She ordered a soda, and with her bladder bemoaning the addition of yet another beverage, found an empty booth tucked in the corner. For roughly fifteen minutes, the only real action seemed to be centered around the group of frat boys trying to score dates with the cute waitress hanging around their table. But then she felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

  Everyone else appeared clueless of the sensation as they continued drinking and laughing and carrying on like a predator hadn’t invaded their idyllic haven. But she’d encountered that magnetic force field enough times to recognize it. Furthermore, she’d been waiting for it.

  Inching closer to the end of the banquet seat, she searched the bar’s patrons for her quarry. A tingle of shocked awareness jolted down her spine when she spotted the portly trucker who’d contracted her father’s soul. She followed the creature’s cold, assessing gaze toward the table where a man with thinning salt-and-pepper hair sat, his stooped frame hunched over a pitcher of beer. A long trail of ash fell from the man’s forgotten cigarette as he stared bleakly at the lineup of empty glasses in front of him.

  A fierce rage slowly filled her as she took in the similarities between the stranger and her father. Was this what had drawn Seven’s heartless, calculating personality? An individual who’d given up on life and sought solace in booze and nicotine in hopes of dulling whatever pain haunted him?

  The trucker started toward the man’s table with a purposeful stride, and she rushed from the booth, her focus glued to the creature’s jiggling potbelly. They reached the stranger at the same time, and she had the distinct honor of witnessing the trucker’s eyes flicker with surprise as she dropped into the vacant seat next to its intended victim. As if suddenly aware that she’d gained some semblance of an upper hand, the sin’s features tightened in annoyance.

  “Clarissa. I didn’t realize we were due for a meeting today.” Although the words were delivered in an amused drawl, a distinct warning glinted in those reptilian eyes as the trucker lowered into the opposite chair. “Whatever this is pertaining to, it’ll have to wait. Jack and I have business to attend to.”

  She squared her chin, refusing to back down. “Don’t mind me.” She slid her gaze to the stranger, who was gaping at her in bafflement. “Whatever he’s promised you isn’t worth it.”

  The man blinked, apparently taken aback by either her vehemence or the fact that she knew about his predicament. “How…?”

  “Because I’m guilty of the same mistake you’re about to commit.” She covered the stranger’s hand with her own, and was shocked that she didn’t feel even the slightest awkwardness over the ges
ture. Lifting her scrutiny from their linked hands, she met the man’s confused stare. “Please don’t do this. I’ve seen what happens once the contract is collected upon. Believe me, whatever hell you’re facing now is nothing compared to what that monster sitting across from us has in store for you.”

  A tsking noise came from the trucker. “Monster? Must we resort to name-calling?”

  “Trust me, that’s the kindest of the names I have for you.”

  The sin leaned back in its seat, the creature’s posture hinting at a bored tolerance of her presence. “Whatever you’re hoping to accomplish here is a waste of time. Jack isn’t looking for salvation. The only thing he cares about is wallowing in excess. Alcohol, women, cigarettes. Whatever his drug of choice, I’m here to provide it.”

  Jack’s hand went limp beneath hers. His lips trembled, his shoulders drooping even more. “He’s right. Those things are all I need. All I want.”

  “No, they’re not.” Desperation clawing at her, she squeezed his knuckles. “They’re a weak substitution for something else. Something that’s lacking in your life. Or that you’re too afraid to face. I know it’s scary, thinking you don’t have any other choice. But you do. You can choose to turn your back on everything that’s ever pulled you down into this bottomless pit. You can turn your back on him.”

  A fierce tremor suddenly shook through Jack, and he ripped his hand from beneath hers, his features twisting in anger. “You don’t know what it’s like, so don’t fucking judge me, lady.”

  His sudden outrage wasn’t entirely unexpected. She’d dealt with similar outbursts countless times with her parents. “I’m not judging you. And I do understand. All too well. I’m only trying to help you.”

  “I don’t need your goddamn help.” Jack glared at the trucker. “Where is that fucking contract?”

  “Please don’t do this,” she pleaded again. Her heart felt like it was shriveling as the sin smiled and produced the document. She tried to take the pen from Jack, but he only shoved her away and quickly scribbled his name on the bottom line.