The Voodoo Children: An Urban Fantasy Witch Novel (Retail Witches Series Book 2)

by Les Goodrich

  With the controller Figment swung the right hand up and leaned the weight balancer to the left to compensate. He shot twice but not fast enough. He saw the camera view spin and the streetlamp swing by across the starless sky and when the view fell across the ground to the left he saw blood ooze out on the pavement.

  “Dammit,” he said and he clicked over to the girl and deleted her from the connected exit sequence. He swiveled her head to look left. A policeman was running to the boy who had fallen just behind the girl. He saw the other policewoman running his way. Or her way. Figment engaged and moved the girl at a run to the edge of the building and he hoped the shadows in the alley were dark enough for a cloak-match spell and as the girl rounded the building he saw it was going to be close.

  He ran her as fast as he could along the right wall then made an abrupt left turn across the alley where the streetlight glow was blocked by the landing above and the girl ran full speed into the bricks of the opposite wall and in the darkness of the shadows she stopped and as her head swung around to survey the advancing officer she saw blood and brick dust scuffed into her arms, and felt blood from a scratch drip maddeningly into her eye.

  “Shit,” cursed Figment and he opened the paint program from the dock and scrambled to select the dropper tool. He moved it with the precision of a surgeon and selected a patch of the darkest shadow from the alley wall on the screen where the girl stood. “Bye-bye,” he said mockingly to the running policewoman on the top of the screen in the shaken girl’s view. He clicked the eyedropper tool on the image of the game screen girl and both he and the stunned officer watched the girl vanish.

  The woman skidded to a halt in shock and Figment laughed as he casually walked the invisible bleeding girl out of the alley on the far end.

  “What a mess,” he said as he rolled back to the control desk. He leaned back in his chair and launched the girl’s rendezvous point sequence. “Now I have to delete that other kid’s memory just in case he lives. Sorry about that SlowBurn,” he said referring to the kid’s gaming screen name. The only name Figment had ever known him by. The only name the kid would ever recall.

  Chapter 13

  Ready to Ride

  Jordan eased down Federal Highway and read addresses to find the mechanic Dan had recommended. When she coasted in neutral the Jeep sounded fine, but in gear it made a high-pitched noise that couldn’t be good. At a certain speed in fourth gear the sound stopped, but the last thing she wanted was a break down on the road to New Orleans. The Jeep needed some attention anyway. She searched buildings, spotted the garage, and turned in.

  Through the high, opened bay doors she saw one guy working under an elevated car when she jumped out in her undercover cowan clothes of white tights, a maroon sweatshirt, and her hair pulled back. No horns.

  The mechanic turned from his work, wiped grease from his hands, and watched her walk up.

  “Hi. My friend Dan recommended you guys. Can you help me with my Jeep?”

  “I hope so,” the ruddy mechanic said, his eyes lit up.

  “The engine whistles.”

  “I don’t blame it.”

  Jordan’s eyes rolled but the guy flashed a brief smile that disarmed her. She could tell he was harmless.

  “Get back to your lube job,” she said and the guy laughed out loud as she walked into the office.

  She walked to lunch while they worked on the Jeep. She browsed through a few antique stores along Federal until the garage called her and she picked up the Jeep with its quiet new fan belt and an oil change. They had also replaced the spark plugs and when she got in to leave, the jeep started so quickly it startled her.

  She met Casey at Coastal Coffee and since Mims was not working and the day was glorious, they sat in the courtyard near the fountain.

  “While I’m gone you should hang out in the shop some,” Jordan said and Casey nodded. “Go there and read in the back. Talk to Brit when it’s slow. That’s what the shop is for. Take advantage of it.”

  “Oh I will. I love it there.”

  “And spend some time with Mims. You guys are at the same level now. You’ve seen some of the madness of witchcraft but also some of the beauty.”

  “Okay,” Casey said. “I like her. Mims is cool.”

  “She is. How are your parents with this now?”

  “Fine after meeting Carol. They’re just protective is all.”

  “Did you tell them about getting hexed?”

  “No. And don’t remind me about that.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re gonna fix that guy.”

  “I’m kind of worried about you and Tanner. Going out there.”

  “Don’t worry about us. We’ll have an IWM agent with us, and a local voodoo priestess. Actually, I think we’re staying with her. We’ll be fine.”

  “Is Tanner a powerful witch too?”

  “Tanner? Man, it’s hard to describe what he is. He’s like this genius inventor who studies old Norse mythology and is so deep into runes that he’s on some other level. If you met him on the street you’d never know he was into all that stuff. But yes, he’s powerful. In his own way. I’m interested to see where he takes it. He’s with Ashenguild and studying under Carmine. Time will tell.”

  “Cool. So what are you doing the rest of the day?”

  “I’m going to see James at his work right as he gets off later. Hey, you wanna go to the shop and look at wands before then?”

  “Hell yeah,” Casey said and the two did just that.

  Brit was helping customers and Carol was showing Brenna how things worked behind the counter.

  “Do you guys sell wands in here?” Jordan asked.

  “You’ve come to the right place,” Brenna said and she moved to the wand cabinet and fiddled with the glass door. “How do I open this thing?” she asked.

  “The key is right here,” Carol whispered and she showed Brenna where it hung on a hook under the counter. “At night we lock it in the safe. Or we’re supposed to.” Carol cocked an eyebrow to Jordan.

  “Hey, I always put the wand key in the safe. Usually.”

  Casey peered into the glass case as Brenna opened it from the back.

  “What do you think?” Jordan asked her.

  “I don’t know. Will they all work for me?”

  “They’ll all work. But which one do you like? Just by looking at them.”

  “I like the black one.”

  “I knew it,” Jordan said.

  “Which one?” Brenna asked leaning to look. There are two black ones.”

  “You know which one,” Jordan said and Brenna smiled.

  “Oh fine. I was trying to be coy. I could’ve pulled this wand out for her when I saw her in here a week ago.”

  “Which one?” Carol asked turning from the register and by then Brit and even the customer had come up to look. Brenna pulled the glossy, ebony-lacquered, yew wood wand from its lucite tier in the case. From the base of the handle swung a single raven feather, and above the hilt were set four dazzling red, round, rhodonite crystals. The wand was perfectly straight but for a single, natural kink in the source branch that lifted and dipped three inches before the tip. The last inch carried on again straight and held a terminated quartz shard so expertly fitted that the wood seemed to grow around it. Casey took the wand from Brenna.

  “Wow,” she said and she admired it and felt the balance of it in her hand. She loved the way the crystals gleamed when she turned it and how the feather swung so naturally behind her grip.

  “That’s one fancy wand,” Brit said.

  “Yew wood,” Jordan added.

  “Curiosity pulls the seeking mind to knowledge like gravity pulls the river to the sea. A proper yew tree wand shall guide the curious, as the stars guide the traveler.” Carol quoted.

  “What’s that from?” asked Brenna.

  “The Coven of Stars spellbook,” Brit said. “Written by Elspeth, one of the first Dianic witches in England.” Carol nodded to Brit.

  “How much
does this cost?” Casey asked Carol.

  “You don’t wanna know, but I’ll tell you later. You can pay us a little every month. No interest. It belongs to you now. Be careful with it.”

  “Thank you so much,” Casey beamed and Jordan hugged her shoulder and everyone else went about their business to leave Casey and Jordan to look over the wand together.

  “Tell me about street spells,” Casey said tilting the wand tip and admiring its form. “Is that kind of magick just energy? The elements just matter?”

  “No. Magick, even a street spell, is when intention and feeling combine to direct matter with energy. You know every street spell is made up of a verb and an element. The verb is the action, but here’s the secret: the action is feeling. The witch feels the action as already done.”

  “I think I get it.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I do. While I’m gone you be careful with your wand. Keep it safe. Maybe Brit will work with you some. I know you want to use it.”

  “Okay. Thank you Jordan,” Casey said and her happiness overflowed.

  ***

  Papertales Bookstore was busy and James rang up a line of customers. He was glad but startled to see Jordan walk in. He became flustered and began to make mistakes at the register.

  “I’ll be in back,” she said to him and moved to browse the store. She walked directly to the occult section and began reading spines and inspecting books. She pulled out a thick book on crystals and paged through it. Another book had fallen to the side in the gap and Jordan tilted it upright and replaced the crystal book.

  “Wrong spot,” a voice said from behind her and she spun around to see no one there. She looked down the aisle in both directions.

  “Up here witch,” the voice said and Jordan looked to see a six inch faerie in blue and white striped leggings, a blue sweater, and glasses where she sat with crossed legs on the top shelf. She wore long, black, curly-toed shoes and her hair was short and black. Her wings like an exotic blue butterfly’s but with flourishes and trailing tips that added beauty to the otherwise proper little faerie.

  “Oh hi. I’m Jordan.”

  “Nice to meet you Jordan. I’m Margery. Now could you put the book right please.”

  “I did. That’s where it was anyways. Do you work here or something?”

  “Anyway,” Margery corrected.

  “What?”

  “There’s no S at the end of anyway. And the book goes on the other side of the one that tilted over. See. Alphabetical.”

  Jordan looked at the books, confirmed Margery to be right, and switched them.

  “Thank you,” Margery exhaled with relief as if someone had removed a pressing weight from her tiny chest. “So you must be Jordan. The girl James is all worried about.”

  “Is that so?”

  “He’s been going on about you for days. We normally talk about books and stories, but lately you’re all he talks about. Bit annoying honestly.”

  “I’m here to talk to him today. We have to resolve all this before I go out of town,” Jordan said and she wondered why she was telling a bookshop faerie such things.

  “Excellent. I have to go dust the windowsills. A pleasure to meet you,” Margery said and she hovered.

  “And you,” Jordan said and the faerie flew away.

  When the final customer was gone and James had counted out Jordan moved to the front.

  “Good to finally see you,” James said. “Don’t bother texting me back ever.”

  “Sorry about that. I wanted to talk to you in person.”

  “It’s fine,” James said and he closed the draw with a genuine smile. “All I have to do is lock the back office and we can get out of here. We’ll go to my place. I don’t feel like being around people. Been around a thousand of them all day.”

  “Okay,” Jordan said as James went to lock the back office. He came back with his bag. “Does Margery stay in here overnight?” she asked.

  “Oh you met her, huh. Yeah she lives in here. Quite a character. A big help for the most part though. She’s a clean freak. And a little grammar nazi.”

  “I noticed. Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jordan followed James through town in her Jeep. They walked together down the heavily foliaged walkway beside the bed and breakfast behind which was James’s apartment. Inside was simple, manly, and clean. There was a cast iron stove, a wall of books, a tiny gallery kitchen, and a bedroom in the back. The living room was paneled in dark wood and held a sectional leather couch truthfully too big for the space. Jordan had only been there a few times because, for whatever reason, they had usually ended up at her place.

  James made them hot tea and they sat on the expansive sofa and talked. Jordan couldn’t help but think that half of her stuff would never even fit in the apartment and she could tell James realized it as well. Not only the items, but the idea of it.

  “I had good intentions, but the timing was wrong. I see that now. You have to give me a break on this,” he said.

  “I do. That’s why I came to see you. I love being with you and I want us to stay together. I’m just not ready to move in with someone yet. I don’t think you are either. We might have our day someday.”

  “I know,” James agreed and it was a relief to them both.

  “For now, can we just be boyfriend and girlfriend and keep our own places?”

  “Nothing would make me happier,” James said and they hugged and began to kiss. They began to kiss deeply. For some reason Jordan hadn’t even considered what would happen if the conversation went as smoothly as it had, and even as they kissed and their hands moved across familiar and welcomed territory she was only then realizing this was about to be the make-up sex everyone makes such a big deal about.

  In her many moments with guys or girls she had never actually made up with anyone. The thought distracted her and for a second she became distant. Little spats here and there, sure. But her breakups had always been final, and this was her first time kicking a guy out of her house, not seeing or speaking for a few days, then ending up on his couch again and happy to be there because he had understood her perfectly.

  “What’s wrong?” James asked.

  “Oh nothing. Nothing.” Back to kissing they went and she told herself she would think about all those things later.

  A cat jumped to the back of the couch and made its way, since that was the only way, around the living room perimeter. Jordan saw it from one opened eye. It was a pure white cat, nimble as could be, and it moved along the couch back and out through the cat door. Jordan jumped up.

  “What?” begged James, his empty arms opened and her standing above him.

  “Was that a Lutin?”

  James surveyed the room. “The cat? Yes. A Lutin.”

  “And you sent it to spy on me and my friends, didn’t you?” Jordan forced the words past the lump forming in her throat.

  “I just said I wished I could see your ritual when the cat was in the room. He went on his own.”

  “We’re done,” she said snatching her sweatshirt from the ottoman.

  “I swear. I didn’t ask it to go.”

  “But it told you all about our ritual and what we did, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bye.”

  “Jordan!”

  “You know I thought it was The Poison Apple that sent that thing? I went there to confront them. You could’ve gotten me killed!”

  “You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” James said and instantly regretted it. But he even added, “You’re the one who flew off the handle and went over there.”

  “Ha! You’re kidding me, right? What was I supposed to do James? Ask you if you sent a Lutin to spy on me? My own boyfriend. You could’ve been honest and told me.”

  “I can’t control what that thing does.”

  “But it’s your Lutin.”

  “Yes it’s my Lutin.”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “What do you mean wher
e’d I get it. Where do I get rid of it?”

  “Look, I can’t take this right now. We should just cool it. We can be friends.”

  “That never works.”

  “Yes it does. Ask Dan.” She searched around for her keys.

  “You dated Dan?”

  “Whatever. Bye James. Don’t call me. I’ll call you.”

  Jordan stomped back up the landscaped path to her Jeep. “Unbelievable.” At the sidewalk she saw the Lutin cat and lunged toward it. It scurried into the bushes. “Bastard,” she called it and in one motion she jumped into her Jeep and fired it up. She revved the engine then spun out down the neighborhood street and gravel danced on the darkened road behind her.

  ***

  Tanner walked through the cold afternoon, his backpack heavy with The Last Dragon papers. He crossed Aviles, slipped through an alley, and headed to the antique map store. He saw the long-haired grey and white cat who watched the sidewalk from her spot in the shop window. The bell above the door chimed and Slim looked up from his low desk.

  “Tanner, hi there,” Slim said and he spun in his desk chair and looked over his glasses. Tanner gave him his stack of papers and showed him his map shop ad.

  “And I’m heading to New Orleans just before the full Moon.”

  “New Orleans, huh. My kind of town. Are you going for vacation?” Slim asked and he moved around from behind the counter, anticipating the answer to be no.

  “No. It’s kind of for work. Jordan and I are helping the IWM track down a, well, a bad guy.”

  “You and Jordan are making quite the detective team.”

  “I guess you could say that. We do our best.”

  “Then it just so happens I have something that may help you in The Big Easy. If I can find it. Now let’s see here.”