Bella Flores Urban Fantasy Collection

by R D Martin

  “Hello?” she said, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

  “There you are. What’s happened to you? I’ve been calling and texting for days. Don’t you check your messages? Where are you? What’s happening? You were only supposed to be gone for a day or two. Not a week. Week? It’s almost two now. Are you all right? What’s going on?”

  “Whoa, whoa. Calm down. I’m fine,” she said, hiding that she was anything but. “The job took a little longer than expected and there was a bit of an accident—"

  “Accident? Are you okay? Did you go to the hospital? Where are you? I can fly down tonight, if you need me. I’ll let Jeff know he needs to set up. You know Jeff. The one with the attitude, thinks he’s all that. What hospital are you in?”

  “I’m not in a hospital,” she said, trying to slow down the questioning. “It was just a bit of a fender bender. I lost control on one of the dirt roads out here and landed in a ditch. No big. Really. You don’t need to come down here. I should be home tomorrow. I’m fine. I mean it. I’m fine.”

  “You sure? You don’t sound it.”

  “Just a little bruised and sore. Promise.”

  “All right. But if you need anything, you know I’m here, right?”

  “I know,” she replied. Picking up the medallion, she turned it in her hand for a moment before continuing. “Hey, Karina? Think you can do me a favor?”

  “Of course. Anything. What’s up, girl?”

  “If I send you a pic of something I found, could you do a quick search for me? It’s not a big deal. Mostly I’m just curious, but if you could, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Sure, no prob.”

  “You’re the best. So tell me, what’s going on with you?”

  Her conversation with Gar went almost as she predicted. So much so, she wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had written the script beforehand. Venting her frustration to William helped, but only just a little.

  “It could be worse,” he said as she finished recounting the experience. “At least the Finder didn’t fire you.”

  “He may as well have. I’m going to be stuck doing deliveries for the rest of my life. They’re never going to trust me not to mess up again.”

  “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You made it through every spell, retrieved the artifact and got out again. You did what they trained you to do. It’s not your fault you got jumped. Did the Finder or Gar say anything about the protection they were using?”

  Bella shook her head. “No. Didn’t even come up. I was too busy trying not to get fired. But maybe I’ll ask Gar when I go back. I’m on a time out.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, no. Gar said I should take another week, then come back.”

  “Well then. Take the week, rest, relax and go back in, ready to kick butt.”

  Bella grunted. She didn’t want to kick butt right now. All she wanted to do was crawl into a hole and disappear.

  “So, when are you coming home? I miss you. I think Cat misses you too.”

  “Cat? Really?”

  “Yes, really. He’s a sensitive soul, you know.”

  “More like a demon pretending to be a familiar.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t insult demons like that.”

  “Hey,” she said, trying not to laugh, though she couldn’t stop the wide grin breaking out. Speaking with William felt good and the tense knot in her stomach loosened a smidgen.

  “So,” he continued. “Learn anything about that medallion?”

  With regard to that, there was actually some good news.

  “Yeah, actually. Karina found it for me. The medallion belongs to a Krewe.”

  “Crew? As in sailors?”

  “Kinda, but no. Gimme a sec.” Hurrying from the room, she returned clutching a sheaf of papers. “It’s spelled K-R-E-W-E and refers to clubs of people in New Orleans who put on parades or throw a party for the Carnival season. She printed me up a list of different ones. Some of them are famous, charging members thousands of dollars a year. They spend all year organizing, building floats and costumes, just getting ready for Mardi Gras. Some of them have some serious political pull, too. They’ve been responsible for putting people in office and having them pulled from it. Karina made me promise to take her if I ever go. Said she’d come back with so many beads, she wouldn’t be able to stand.”

  “Mardi Gras, huh? Never been, though it might be fun.” He gave a wistful look, as though imagining all the trouble he could get into.

  “Anyway,” she said, interrupting his wandering imagination. “The medallion belongs to a member of the Krewe of Mephistopheles. They’re small, and not that old. Members have to work on building floats themselves instead of hiring professionals, and they’re expected to buy their own throws.”

  “Throws?”

  “Yeah. That’s what they call the beads and coins and things they toss from the floats.”

  “Cool. Say, if I were to toss some beads, would you…” His smile betrayed exactly where his mind was at.

  “Don’t even think it. Besides, it’s mostly not true. Just drunk tourists the news decided to focus on. You know you can’t believe everything you read online.”

  “Hey, don’t burst my bubble. I can still use my imagination.”

  “Come home, and you won’t have to imagine,” she said, lowering her tone to make it as husky as possible. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and, unable to hold it in any longer, she burst out laughing.

  “Funny,” he said, his surprised look turning wry. “So anyway, what are you planning to do?”

  “What? Wait. Do what?”

  “Do? What are you planning to do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, didn’t you say the guy that roughed you up sounded southern?”

  “Yeah, but—"

  “And that pendant,” he said, bulldozing through her objection. “You just said it’s from New Orleans, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said, shifting the papers in her hands.

  “So, what’re you going to do about it?”

  “I—” She paused. It wasn’t the first time she’d circled around to this exact question, but having it come from William meant she couldn’t ignore it. “I’m not sure. I mean, I see the connection and all, but I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, Gar and Finder said they’d track it down for the client and, well, you know.”

  “Know what?”

  “You know. They’re both so much… stronger than me. It’ll probably just take Gar a second to find the artifact and bring it back. I’d just get in the way.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted, giving her a thoughtful look. “Maybe he will. Or just maybe you’ll find it first and hand it to them on a silver platter. They wouldn’t think you were weak then, would they?”

  “No, they wouldn’t. But even so, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “Try a tracer spell?”

  “I’m not dumb. I tried that already. Well, Gar tried it and it failed. Something about it having too many owners,” she grumbled, unhappy admitting to another failure, though it really wasn’t hers.

  “Then go there.”

  “What?”

  “Go there. Ask questions. What’s the worst that can happen? You find nothing and get to enjoy Mardi Gras, right?”

  “And what if I do find it? What then? You weren’t there when they jumped me. Whatever is protecting them…”

  “Probably isn’t doing it anymore.”

  “Huh?”

  “Think about it. Whatever spell was used was more than likely just put in place for that one job. Why keep powering a spell when the job’s over?”

  “Yeah, okay. But still. What if it’s not?”

  “Then you get to set the trap and get the jump on them. Or back off and let Gar know where they are so he can deal with them. Your choice really.”

  She nodded. He was right on both accounts. “Okay. Say you’re right.”<
br />
  “I’m right.”

  “Funny. Anyway, say you’re right and I go down there. Where do I start looking? I can’t just go to their club and ask for anyone who’s lost a medallion, can I? Karina said these Krewes are serious business. They’re not going to just give me a list of members. Hell, they probably won’t even talk to me.”

  “Well, that’s why you have me, isn’t it?”

  “You? What’re you going to do? Are you coming back?”

  “I wish. No, but seriously, I can help. Or at least I think I can. Uncle has contacts everywhere and I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help.”

  “Yeah? And why’s that?”

  “Because if he doesn’t, I’m leaving right now.”

  “Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Getting tired of the jungle? Ready to come back to civilization?”

  “No, it’s the spiders. They chirp and click all the time. Didn’t mind it at first, but now I can’t get any sleep unless I leave camp.”

  Bella shuddered. The thought of sleeping anywhere near the giant arachnids was enough to fuel her nightmares.

  “Speaking of sleep, I got to go. We’re supposed to take part in a sunrise ceremony tomorrow and have to climb to the top of the tree canopy.”

  “All right. Be careful and don’t fall.”

  “I will… or won’t. Hey, Bella?”

  “Hmm?”

  “If I pretended to throw some beads, would you…?”

  6

  Dropping her luggage at the foot of the bed, Bella crossed the room and peered out the window. True to his word, William had worked his magic on his uncle and, even this close to Mardi Gras, found accommodations. She wished she had this kind of view from her apartment. The street outside, lined with trees covered in gray Spanish moss that drooped from their branches like handmade lace, was beautiful. Even better, coming from winter in her city, New Orleans felt like a tropical destination. It was a bit of a shame she wasn’t closer to any of the quarters, but beggars shouldn’t be choosers.

  A high-pitched squeal jarred her out of the moment, and she turned to watch Karina drag her own bags into the room. It was amazing how such a small woman lugged so many large cases.

  “O.M.G.,” Karina said, dropping her luggage and plopping herself down on the bed. “Did you see all those people on the street? It’s not even Mardi Gras yet and people are partying.”

  It was true. The cab ride from the airport took, according to their driver, about twice the normal time because of all the tourists and revelers. As it turned out, Mardi Gras wasn’t just the one day, Fat Tuesday. New Orleans fill the two weeks leading up to Lent with parties, parades and festivities beginning in the morning and continuing until late in the evening. Fat Tuesday, he explained, was just famous for having the biggest floats and parties.

  “So, what’s on your agenda?”

  “Well, first I’m going to get a ride to the French Quarter, check out all the action there,” Karina said. Dropping a satchel on the bed, she opened it and rummaged around before pulling out a handful of papers. “There are a lot of famous jazz bars, some museums, and a ghost walk. Think you’ll finish with work early enough to join me for that?”

  Bella frowned. She hated lying to her friend. After Karina did all the research for her on the medallion, then found out she was going to New Orleans, she had insisted on coming along, claiming she was due a vacation. Try as Bella might, she’d been unable to talk Karina out of it. As a last resort, she’d tried to claim it was a business trip and there wouldn’t be any time to enjoy herself. Karina, ever the optimist, remained unfazed, planning for a whirlwind couple of days.

  “Maybe. Let’s see how it goes. Speaking of work, I’m going to go meet with the client. Who knows? Maybe this’ll be a short job and we can spend the rest of the time having fun.”

  The smile brightened her friend’s face, and it made Bella’s stomach knot. She hoped she hadn’t lied to her again.

  Stepping out of the cab, she checked the address on the brown facade of the building to make sure she was in the right place. The cabdriver had taken so many turns to avoid the throngs of revelers Bella had become turned around. Across from where she stood, a sign proclaimed palms were read, futures were told, and they contacted spirits from the beyond, all for a very reasonable price. Satisfied, she stepped up on the curb and entered the neon-lit shop.

  The inside of the shop was dark enough that it took her a few moments for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she faced a macabre mixture of items so strange it was like walking into an abandoned prop warehouse for black and white horror movies. Two life-sized skeletons stared at her from different areas in the room, their eye sockets stuffed with fake gold coins. One of them wore a pirate’s tricorn hat at a jaunty angle. Glass cases lined the walls, displaying books, carvings and an assortment of large and small objects she didn’t recognize at all. On her left was a basket filled with little dolls so poorly stitched together, they looked as if they were rejects from a children’s sewing competition. The age-yellowed sign propped next to the basket claimed they were voodoo dolls, a great bargain at two for one.

  Stacks of old books, leather-backed spines faded and peeling with age, lay strewn around the room, threatening to topple over at the slightest breeze. Lining the top of shelves, carved wooden statuettes stared down at her. Each one carved to resemble a person except for an exaggerated feature like a head or stomach. A tingle ran up her spine as she stared at them, and she would have sworn under oath they stared back at her.

  Portraits covered the little wall space not dedicated to hanging rusted bits of metal that would have looked more at home in a chain restaurant. One portrait, a painting of an old African American woman wearing a white head wrap, gave her a bit of a start when she noticed its eyes following her as she walked. She’d seen the same trick at Disney World as a kid, but this time it creeped her out even more.

  “This can’t be right,” she mumbled, brow creasing as she took in more of the shop. Closing her eyes, she opened her inner vision and watched as swirling currents and eddies of magic moved about the room. If anything in here was magical, at least the energy would show it.

  As if confirming her suspicions, not a single item in the room glowed with contained power, nor did anything appear to affect the surrounding flow.

  “Find anything?”

  The unexpected voice gave Bella a start, and a cold flash raced through her, setting every nerve on edge from top to bottom. Whirling, she stared at a hunched old woman wearing a starched white outfit and the same head wrap as the woman in the painting. Her leathery features betrayed years of working in the sun and her hands, gnarled and knotted, rested on a dark wooden cane topped with a knob worn smooth by years of handling. The crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes drew anyone looking at them into eyes so deep Bella felt as if they’d already read her inner thoughts and decided she was worth talking to, regardless.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, calming her racing pulse. “I didn’t see you. Say again?”

  “I said, find anything?”

  “I, um, no. I… I think I’m in the wrong place.”

  “Oh, that’s all right, dear,” the woman said, her southern drawl giving her words a pleasant lilt even as they covered the sound of her disappointment. “You’re wanting the Voodoo Museum. It’s between Bourbon and Royal, a few blocks up.” The old woman shifted a bit and shuffled over to the basket of dolls. Selecting one with a blue shirt, she held it out. “Care to buy a Voodoo doll before you go? They’re a great souvenir you can show off to your friends. Each one is handmade, too. No? Okay, no worries. Have a nice day, dear. And tell Marcus I said hello.” The old woman turned and started shuffling toward the back of the room, her slippers rasping against the thin carpeting.

  Turning to open the door, Bella froze, hand inches from the handle. She hadn’t mentioned William’s uncle. Hell, she hadn’t said much of anything.

  “How did you know about…” she started, back still turn
ed to the room.

  “About Marcus?” The woman chuckled. “That old coot called me up. Middle of the night it was, too. Probably just trying to catch me in my altogether. I tell you, if I was sixty years younger, he’d be gettin’ more than an eyeful. Anyway, told me to keep an eye out. Gave a good description, too. But, sorry I couldn’t be any help though.”

  Bella turned and stared at the woman. What was going on?

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be rude—”

  “That’s what people usually say right before they are.”

  “But,” she continued, ignoring the interruption. “Who are you?”

  “Walk into my shop, then ask who I am? Marcus said you was dating young William. I thought that boy had a good head on his shoulders. At least smart enough to get along with a girl with more brains in her head.”

  “Excuse me? What?”

  “And stop apologizing, child. Makes you sound like you’re too young to be off your mother’s apron strings. I swear.”

  Bella’s cheeks turned scarlet as a warm flush of anger rose. How dare this woman insult her like that? She’d been nothing but polite.

  “I don’t know who you think you are,” she started, “but I don’t have to stand here and be insulted.”

  “No? Then why ain’t you leaving?”

  Huffing, Bella turned, or tried to turn. It was as if her feet were ignoring commands from the rest of her body. Struggling, she attempted to twist again and almost lost her balance.

  “Aw, what’s that? Change your mind?”

  Bella’s eyes widened as she looked up and stared at the old woman. Leaning against the counter, cane lying on a glass case behind her, the woman clutched a small doll in her hands. Bella realized it was the same one the woman had offered to sell her.

  “What are…” she started but stopped as all the air in her lungs rushed out in a single blast. Pressure surrounded her chest from all sides, squeezing hard enough she could almost hear bones grinding together.

  “It’s not polite to interrupt.” The old woman cackled, squeezing the doll a little harder.