The words had been said, and there was no way I wasn’t turning that page. I flipped to the next one and looked at the incomprehensible text. My eyes were immediately drawn to the picture on the opposite page. It was the same symbol I remembered so vividly from my dreams—the one I’d tattooed on Victor Tuse’s back. The air left my lungs as the sound of my beating heart filled my ears, my reaction visceral. As soon as I laid eyes on it I felt sick, knew the gravity of what I’d done.
Miss Bishop, you’ve been duped. Fin Cooper’s words made sense now. I was an unwilling accomplice in freeing something demonic. “Where’s the original book?” I asked.
By now Lillian’s face had gone stone cold. “It’s in a vault under our feet. About a hundred feet below the foundation of this house, to be exact. It’s been locked away for more than two hundred and fifty years. None of its evil has ever been able to manifest. Until now.”
Cooper got up and headed over to the desk and rummaged through the top drawer. He found the cigars he was looking for and dropped down into the swivel chair. He bit off the tip and propped his feet up on the desk. “Anyone mind?” he asked before lighting it. With no objections, he lit the cigar and puffed it briefly before continuing. “As I mentioned the day we met, Miss Bishop, there are two. Two evil spirits locked away under this house. Of course, now there’s only one trapped inside that book. The other one is running around Savannah doing God knows what.”
“Where are my manners?” Lillian said out of the blue, as if we’d just been discussing garden parties instead of demonic possession. “I believe you’ve already met Emmaline, but I don’t believe you’ve met the rest of the council. Or have you?” I shook my head. “Well then, let’s have a proper introduction.” She nodded to the man with the cropped salt and pepper hair and dark skin sitting to my right.
“Dr. Greene,” he said, extending his hand. “I treat a lot of the bad tickers in this town.” Noting my confusion, he clarified. “Cardiologist. I’ll be seeing Fin in my office real soon if he doesn’t lay off them cigars.”
“Now you could have objected, Moses,” Cooper countered, taking the hint and extinguishing his Cuban smoke.
Like participants at a seminar, everyone around the table took their turn introducing themselves. There was Alma Turner who taught fifth grade at a private girl’s school, and Pete Harper who spent his days operating a sanitation truck through the neighborhoods of Savannah. Finally, there was José, a flamboyant hairstylist from an upscale salon that catered to some of Savannah’s wealthier citizens. No last name—just José. He made a point of letting me know his services weren’t cheap, but he did offer discounts to council members. He glanced at my head and offered to touch up my protruding roots for free. Funny, considering my hair color was natural.
“Everyone at this table is a direct descendent of the original custodians of the grimoire,” Lillian explained. “Except for you, that is.” Then she glanced at the youngest member—Emmaline. “If one of us dies, our children are elevated to the council seat.”
Once the formalities were out of the way, she got right to the point. “The question that has us all so perplexed, Katie, is why the spirit chose you?”
I shrugged. “From what Mr. Cooper told me I wasn’t the first one it chose.”
“Now that is true, Miss—” he stopped and sighed. “Can we please dispense with the surnames? I’ll call you Katie if you can manage to call me Fin.” I nodded in agreement as he continued. “Maybe it didn’t seek you out. Maybe it just got lucky. Third time’s a charm.”
Emmaline had that same pained look on her face as earlier. Like she was bursting to say something. I see you, she’d whispered in my ear when we met earlier that night. Under the circumstances, maybe it was best to just come out with my secret. They’d probably think I was crazy anyway. Might buy me a ticket out of this place so I could get back to my life.
“I don’t think it just got lucky. I think it was drawn to me, and I know why it couldn’t kill me.” I took a deep breath in preparation for my big reveal. “Dr. Greene, can you help me with my zipper?” I asked as I stood up and turned my back to the table. He stood up next to me, nervously glancing around the table before complying with the strange and inappropriate request.
“It’s all right, Moses,” Lillian assured. “Help the girl with her zipper.” He reached for the slider at the top and began to pull it down the back of my dress.
“I’m a—”
“She’s a creature!” Emmaline blurted out before I could explain.
I gawked at the shy specter of a girl, staring back at me with wide eyes. I figured she knew there was something off about me, but how did she see all that? Then I remembered the way her hand nearly caressed my tattoo. “How did you know?” I asked.
A flood of murmuring traveled around the table. Seeing my shocked expression, Lillian clarified what I should have recognized from the moment I saw the girl. After all, my best friend back in New York was a pretty powerful one. “Emmaline is a witch. A real one,” she added. “Not one of those new age proprietors over there on River Street. She’s a priestess of one of Savannah’s oldest and finest covens—Blackthorn Grove. Don’t be cross with her, Katie. We all knew there was something special about you.”
Emmaline seemed to shy away from the accolades. A very modest witch, I noted.
Fin got up from the desk and headed back to his seat at the table. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I thought maybe you were a witch yourself.” I let the sides of the dress fall away from my back. “That’s a fine tattoo,” he said. “But there isn’t a self-respecting tattoo artist in the city who doesn’t practice what he or she preaches. What makes yours different? And what’s this creature Emmaline is referring to?”
“Take a closer look.” I could feel the dragon begin to stir and lift away from my skin before settling back down into a flat canvas of inanimate ink.
“A dragon!” Emmaline gasped.
Fin shook his head. “No wonder the damn thing couldn’t kill you.”
Dr. Greene hesitated when I asked him to zip my dress back up. “It’s okay, Doctor. It won’t bite.” He carefully complied and then retook his seat. “You see, it’s not just a tattoo—it is a dragon. It lives on my back. I think Victor Tuse walked into my shop because we have something in common.”
After a few moments of quiet gawking, Lillian broke the silence. “All the more reason to bring you on board. The services of a magical creature could be quite useful to the society.” She stood up and extended her hand across the table. “Welcome to the club, Miss Bishop.”
I glanced at her outstretched palm but didn’t take it, fearing the binding contract it might create. “I haven’t agreed to anything. I’m not one of your descendants, so what do you need me for? The spirit is out. That tattoo is already on Victor Tuse’s back, so the deed is done.”
Fin spoke up. “Because the other one hasn’t managed to escape—yet. If the first spirit was able to snake its way out of that book, the other one could very well find a way out, too. We’ll do our damnedest to keep that from happening, but if it does my guess is it’ll make a beeline straight for you.” His expression went lax with a surrendered look in his eyes, one I hadn’t seen on his face before. He always seemed so controlled, shrewd. “We’re not completely confident we can recapture that AWOL spirit you aided and abetted the other day, let alone both halves if that grimoire buried below this house breaks wide open. But our chances are substantially more optimistic if we don’t have to face Legvu in his true form, which is what will happen if spirit number two gets you to apply that final tattoo. We can help each other, Katie.”
“If the other half breaks free it won’t matter,” José mused as he examined his manicured fingernails. “We’ll all be toast.”
“He’s right,” Lillian agreed. “If the other one escapes we’ll be looking at Armageddon. It’s going to take some serious magic to put that genie back in the bottle, but we’re working on a solution to that little dilemma.�
�
I stated the obvious. “I’ll just say no next time Victor Tuse walks into my shop asking for a tattoo. Got a big sign right against the wall stating my right to refuse service to anyone.”
“Katie,” Fin began, condescendence lacing his words, “you do realize the second spirit will probably need an immediate host while it looks for its other half. Probably accost the first unfortunate soul who passes by. It won’t be Victor Tuse walking into your shop next time.”
“Then I’ll just keep an eye out for the tattoo itself. If a stranger walks into my shop with a drawing of it, I’ll refuse service.”
Lillian looked confused “And how will you recognize the tattoo?” she asked. “Do you plan to turn away every new customer who walks through your doors? That little business of yours won’t survive that kind of weeding out. Not to mention the fact that it can take anyone as a host, including an existing customer. Hell, it might take up residence in one of your own employees.”
I glanced back and forth between her and Fin, realizing they didn’t know my connection to Victor Tuse’s tattoo. “Because I dreamed about that tattoo before Victor Tuse walked into my shop, and I’d bet money that I’m going to dream about the next one before it walks through my door, too”
Fin stood up abruptly, nearly knocking his chair backward in the process. “You failed to mention that pertinent little fact.”
“Didn’t I?” I guess it never came up during our introduction. At the time I just wanted him out of my shop.
“Then I guess there’s no doubt the spirit sought you out,” he said. “The damn thing has been in your head, Katie.” When I didn’t react the way he’d obviously expected, with fear and pleading for the society’s help, he shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you? Without our help, you’re a dead woman. The spirits will use you as long as you cooperate, but once they realize you’re on to them, they’ll find a way to kill you.”
“What makes you think they can?” I asked. “You said yourself that the one running loose right now killed the first two artists who tried to finish the tattoo on Tuse’s back. I believe you likened its lack of self-control to a sexual act that I’d prefer not to repeat in front of all these strangers. But I’m still alive.”
A humorless smile crept up his face. “I believe you just proved to the spirit that you’re worth keeping around a little longer. The others were too weak. But don’t confuse your usefulness with the ability to match its strength. You are just a pawn, Katie Bishop. A toy it will tire of as soon as it gets what it wants.” He sat back down and took a deep breath. “I guess this is the part where we bargain.”
From what I’d been told, Fin was a shrewd businessman who owned a good part of this town. The word “bargain” coming from his mouth automatically put me on guard. I did my best to keep from looking nervous or weak, because that’s what men like Finley Cooper preyed upon. One poorly executed decision could mean a lifetime of servitude.
“I’m listening.”
He made himself more comfortable by pushing his chair back and raising his feet up on the edge of the sturdy walnut table, to the disapproval of his host. He glanced at Lillian but kept them there. We may have been in the grande dame’s house, but it was obvious who called the shots.
“We’d like to offer some incentive for your participation in the society. Something that might make it easier for you to pull the trigger on your decision to join our club.” He hesitated and looked at Dr. Greene sitting next to me, nowhere near the large desk. “Doctor,” he continued, “would you mind going over to that desk and getting me another one of them cigars?” His eyes remained fixed on his prey until Greene sheepishly complied. The doctor got up hesitantly and went to the desk. He pulled a cigar and lighter from the drawer, then grabbed the ashtray and cutter as an afterthought before headed over to Fin. Fin punctuated his authority by waiting for Dr. Greene to cut and light the tip. “Why thank you, Doctor.”
Greene retook his seat with his eyes fixed downward on his twitching right hand, and Fin proceeded to lay a deal on the table. “We’re prepared to offer you protection from the spirit. Now we can’t guarantee that it won’t find a way to kill you, but we can make it a hell of a lot more difficult than just slipping into your house or place of business and slitting that pretty little throat of yours.”
I scoffed. “That’s reassuring, but I’ll need a little more incentive than that.”
“Has it ever occurred to you to ask what kind of magic is powerful enough to trap those things in that book?” he asked. “That spell binds them with their own magic. Puts the bone to them. Sometimes I wonder if that cryptic language in the grimoire means anything at all. A smokescreen to confuse and hide the simplicity of a simple bone incantation. Damn things can’t fight their own magic any more than you or I can cut out our own heart. It’s just the way things work, Miss Bishop.”
We were back to surnames again. I suspected it was just another mind game he was playing with me. “Your point?”
“My point is that sometimes the simplest solution is the best solution. Don’t overcomplicate what we’re offering. Joining the Crossroads Society is a no-brainer. Can’t hurt, and it just might keep you alive.”
“Are you offering to sprinkle me with bones to keep the bad spirits away?”
“Something like that. Although I offer no guarantee that it’ll work,” he said with amusement. “But I can offer you some incentive. Sweeten the deal.” He removed his shoes from the table and yanked his bow tie from his neck, extinguishing the obnoxious cigar before continuing. “If you become a member of the society and help us hunt down the spirit, I’ll hand you the deed to that building you work out of.”
I could feel my jaw slacken, but I immediately tightened it back up so he couldn’t see how easily he’d enticed me. “Let me get this straight. All I have to do is join the society and help you recapture the spirit, and you’ll give me the building?” It was in my best interest to cooperate anyway. “All of it?”
“That’s right, Miss Bishop. Free and clear.”
8
The way they were rubbing the bridge of my nose and limiting the natural sunlight that was so vital to my cheery mood, my sunglasses were beginning to irritate more than help. I never understood the appeal of wearing them other than for fashion. Some of my friends would rather forego shoes than leave the house without their shades.
I’d only had a few drinks the night before but my head was saying otherwise, and those shades did help to cut the glare that was sending spikes of pain between my eyes. I suspected it was the pre-party margaritas I’d indulge in prior. As much as I liked a good margarita, tequila and I did not mix. Not to mention the additional drinks I had when I got home, replaying Fin Cooper’s offer in my head repeatedly to make sure I’d understood it right. But I wasn’t holding my breath, considering I’d failed to get that generous offer in writing.
“Morning, little Miss Sunshine.” Sugar was already at the shop, hold out a cup of coffee to me as I walked inside. “I figured you could use this after a night with all them alcoholics over there at the society. It’s from a little place around the corner.”
“You know I have a coffeemaker, Sugar.”
She grinned as I took the cup and raised it to my lips. “Oh, I know what kind of stuff comes outta that contraption, but I figured you was gonna appreciate a little extra octane this morning.”
I took a big swallow and nearly spit it on the floor. “Shit, Sugar! What the hell is that? Tar?”
“That’s some Cuban coffee, baby. A whole lot of caffeine and a whole lot of sugar. Exactly what you need after a night with them society folks.”
I unceremoniously dropped the cup on the counter. “Jesus! That stuff will give you a heart attack.”
She took a seat in one of the chairs and scrutinized me while I milled around the front desk. “Well?” she eventually said. “You gonna just stand there toying with my head, or are you gonna tell me what happened last night?” By the way her legs
were crossed and that foot of hers was swinging back and forth, I knew she was losing patience with my lack of disclosure.
“Damn, woman. If I wanted the third degree every time I went out, I’d get myself a husband.”
Her eyebrows flew up toward the ceiling. “Now, I wouldn’t recommend that.”
Mouse came through the front door, slumped over and dragging her feet. She was definitely not a morning person, which was why I preferred to take the early walk-ins myself. Nine a.m. clients who specifically requested her services did so at their own peril. “Morning,” she mumbled as she shuffled past me and headed for the coffee machine.
“Got you a cup of the good stuff on the counter, Mouse,” Sugar said. “Might want to throw it in the microwave first to heat it up.”
She grabbed the Cuban coffee I’d discarded on the counter and took a swig of the lukewarm crude oil. Without flinching, she finished it off and dumped her backpack on the floor. “Thanks, Sugar.”
“You knew, didn’t you?” I asked, referring to the livelihood of the Crossroads Society.
“Honey, you got to be a little more specific than that,” she replied evasively. After a minute of silence and feeling the seething accusations coming from my eyes, she finally relented. “You asking if I know what they got hidden under that house?”
It dawned on me that it was possible she knew all about the grimoire, but the part about the evil spirit I’d let loose would be a revelation. If I told her about that, I’d have to tell her my secret, too. Then again, she’d become one of my closest friends, and if Fin and his people trusted her with their secrets, mine would be safe too. It also meant that the odds were pretty good that she’d believe me, seeing how malicious spirits were a main concern of the society’s charter.
I thought it wise to vet her a little further before giving up everybody’s secrets. “What do you know about grimoires?”
Crossroads of Bones (A Katie Bishop Novel Book 1) Page 7