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For Melanie Newton. Your help and support are priceless
and your friendship is a gift.
Chapter One
Kindness is often mistaken for weakness.
This is not a mistake your enemies should make twice.
—Elektos Codex 9.2.10
New Orleans, Louisiana, 2068
One witch to rule them all.
Giselle almost laughed out loud at the cleverness of her thought. Instead, she kept her giddiness to a smile. A tourist passing through Jackson Square smiled back. Giselle let the woman think it was an invitation to duck under the pavilion Giselle had set up for reading fortunes, not her rising anticipation of what was to come.
The woman kept walking. Giselle’s smile disappeared. One day after Mardi Gras and the city was still thick with tourists carrying on like the party had yet to end. She didn’t mind. Much. It suited her purposes. Today might be a bust, however. It was afternoon and she’d yet to have anyone she could use sit across from her. Soon, when the spell she and Zara were working on was cast, she’d never have to sit here and pander to the masses again.
A young man approached her booth, a nearly empty plastic cup of beer clutched in one hand. “You’re too pretty to be a fortune-teller.”
She studied him. Expensive wristwatch. Manicured nails. Alligator loafers. This was not your average college boy. She smiled coyly. “Is that so? How should I look?”
He ducked under the ivory pavilion. “You know, wart on the nose, scarf on the head, that sort of thing.”
He’d been drinking for a while, based on the cloud of alcohol surrounding him. She shrugged. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“I’m not disappointed.” He drained the last of his beer and set the empty cup near the small ivory placard that displayed her prices in simple black font.
Beneath the pristine white velvet draping her table, she dug her nails into her palm to keep from hexing him. She pointed a few yards away. “There’s a trash can over there.”
He left the empty cup where it was and sat on the folding stool across from her. He stuck his palm out. He had the smooth hands of someone who’d never done manual labor. “Tell me my fortune.”
She thought about telling him she was closed, but a sixth sense made her wait it out. She tapped the top of her sign. “One, you must pay me first, and two, I don’t read palms. I read crystals.”
He dug into the pocket of his shorts, pulled out a wad of plastic bills and dropped a few on the table. Quite a bit more than her rate. She didn’t correct his mistake. He put the rest away and put his open hand back on the table. “How about now?”
“I still don’t read palms.” She tucked the plastic away, then placed a tall silver cup filled with crystals in front of him and went into her spiel. “I am Giselle, mistress of the crystals and keeper of the light. Cover the—”
“I’m Robbie.”
She lifted her hand. “No names. I prefer to work without influence. Now, cover the cup with your hand and think about one question you’d like to have answered, but don’t tell me what it is. Keep the question in your mind.”
Laughing like it was all a big game, he put his hand over the cup and squeezed his eyes tight. A moment later, he opened them. “Okay, I thought of a question.”
Giselle took the cup from him. “Very good.” Since Ian had tattooed her with a crystal, the source of her power, her ability to read the crystals was sharper than ever, which proved that his inherent gift was an extraordinary one. Even so, she whispered a few words over the crystals for clarity and guidance, then tipped the container and spilled the stones across the velvet. They twinkled with a rainbow of colors despite the shade of the pavilion. She stared at them intently, not saying anything for almost a minute.
Strong images of power, money and influence danced before her. Money she understood, but the boy across from her didn’t look like anyone of importance.
“So?” He shifted impatiently.
“Silence.” She moved her hands over the crystals but they never lied. One of the formations showed a strong family tie. That must be where the power and influence came in. “You live a blessed life.”
He nodded like that was no revelation.
She continued, asking the crystals to show her specifically where this young man’s power and influence came from. An image of a woman formed in her head. A woman she recognized.
He crossed his arms. “Is that all you’ve got?”
She looked up at him, seeing the resemblance to the woman in her head instantly. His mother. “You come from a powerful family.”
That shut him up. She went on. “One that you both love and hate. You love the power, the influence, the money, but you hate the comparisons, the standards, the expectations, but most especially the consequences if you step out of line.”
A plan unfurled in her head like the leaves of one of her sister’s plants. Lush and verdant, the idea grew so large so quickly that the perceived reward overshadowed any possible risk. She smiled at him, offering him a safe place. A friend. “You struggle with so much. You deserve to be your own man.”
“I do.” He nodded.
“You are so much more than your mother’s son.” She pushed a relaxation spell into her words to make him completely receptive to what she was about to say.
His mouth opened and his pupils dilated slightly. “I am.”
“But no one ever gives you the chance, do they?”
“No.” He shook his head slowly. “They never do.”
She whispered a few words to entrance him further, the alcohol in his system aiding her. “I can help you,” she said quietly. “I can give you that chance. I can make your heart’s desire come true.”
Eyes glassed over, he leaned forward. “How?”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m a good witch. I know a secret garden where all your dreams and desires will come true and your troubles will disappear.”
More nodding.
He belonged to her now. The plan branched into something greater. She pulled a scrap of paper and a pen from her bag and scribbled down an address while murmuring a disillusion spell over it so that he would see what she wanted him to see and not what she’d actually written. Then she held the paper up so he could read it. She spoke the address she wanted him to read three times, then folded the paper and placed it in his hand. “Come to this address tonight and I will help you. You must tell no one and when you return, you must burn this paper to finish the spell. Do you understand?”
He repeated what she’d said, eyes wide as saucers. “I go to this address tonight and you will help me. After that, I burn this paper to complete the spell.”
Not that he would ever get that chance. “Good boy. Now go back to your room and wait until dusk, then come to me. Leave all your valuables behind.”
With a final nod, he got up and disappeared into the crowd.
Her skin tingled with the sheer brilliance of what she’d just set in motion. She thanked the goddess for s
ending the senator’s son to her as she got to her feet and started packing up her things. She had to get to her sister Zara’s. They had another ritual to prepare for.
Augustine balled his hand into a fist, but kept it at his side. Smashing it through the bedroom door in front of him wouldn’t do any good.
Although it might make up for the last three days of hell. He’d spent seventy-two hours knowing the woman he loved was suffering but had been unable to do anything about it. All because three days ago, he’d drugged Harlow in hopes of finding out if the rekindled spirit of her dead twin, Ava Mae, had truly possessed her.
He’d gotten his answer. Harlow was, indeed, possessed.
And now, three days later, Ava Mae had yet to come out of Harlow’s room, claiming to be too sick to join him and Lally for meals. Or do anything else for that matter. Every time he asked, no matter what the reason, she refused.
He stood in the hall and stared at her closed door, his anger building. Had Ava Mae locked herself in there because she remembered that he’d drugged her and gotten her to admit she’d taken over Harlow’s body? Did she know he was wise to her scheme? Was she afraid? He pondered that a moment. If she was, it was the first smart thing she’d done as Ava Mae. And if she was afraid of him, studying up on Harlow so she could appear more like her sister and not her sister’s possessor was another smart move.
Whatever her reasons, he wanted her out where he could see her. Because while Ava Mae was essentially holding Harlow hostage so that Ava Mae could enjoy the pleasures of the corporeal world, that body still belonged to Harlow and he knew for a fact that Harlow was still in there.
He would set Harlow free. From that room. And from her sister. His hands ached from squeezing them so hard. He relaxed them, flexed all twelve of his fingers and took a deep, cleansing breath.
It didn’t work.
What the hell was Ava Mae doing in that room? If he had to guess, she was learning everything she could about Harlow in order to pass as her more competently. At some point, boredom would set in and Ava Mae would have to come out. He lifted his hand, but used it to knock on the door instead of punching a hole in it. For Harlow’s sake, he would continue playing this damned game and ask the same question he’d been asking every morning. He did his best to soften the frustrated edge in his voice. “Morning. How are you feeling today, Harley?”
Coughing answered him. “Morning.” Some sniffling. “I’m just so-so. Would you have Lally leave my breakfast by the door again?”
As sick as she supposedly was, she hadn’t lost her appetite. “Three days and you’re still not well enough to get out of bed?” He exhaled, pushing his temper down, but anger put words in his mouth. Words that held a threat he should have made a day ago. “I’m getting the doctor over here immediately. You need medical attention before this gets worse. Maybe even a trip to the clinic.”
He heard movement. Feet on the floor.
“That’s not necessary,” she answered. “I’m not that bad. Actually, I think I feel well enough to make it down for breakfast. Let me give it a shot. In fact, a nice hot shower would probably do the trick. I’ll be down soon.”
He grimaced at her lies. “Excellent.” Except now he and Lally had to deal with Ava Mae face-to-face. He jogged downstairs to tell Lally the news.
The housekeeper stood at the stove, stirring a pot of grits. “Morning, Augie. Any word from the devil child or she staying holed up in that room forever?”
“Yes, I talked to her and stop calling her that. She’s coming down for breakfast.”
She stopped stirring, eyes wide. “She’s joining us for a meal?”
“Yes. Did you make enough?”
She snorted softly. “Have you never seen me cook before?”
He grinned. “You’re right. I already knew the answer to that one.” He stared out the kitchen windows toward the pool, his smile fading. Steam lifted the aroma from the coffeepot and made his mouth water, but nothing could dislodge the pit in his stomach. He looked at Lally again. “Remember, it might be Ava Mae talking and running the show but Harlow’s still in there. Somewhere.” And he would find a way to get her out. Eventually.
Lally’s brows lifted. “I hope you’re right. Not that I doubt you, child, but this is one of those things we need to be sure about.”
“I’m sure.” He glanced toward the upper levels of the house. “While under the influence of bourbon and nequam, Ava Mae was subdued enough that Harlow could communicate with me. There is no doubt in my mind that the woman I carried into Harlow’s room three nights ago and put to bed is physically Harlow, but mentally Ava Mae.”
Lally returned to stirring the grits, going very quiet as she turned her face toward the window overlooking the backyard. He poured a cup of coffee, added sugar to it and was about to drink when she made a soft whimpering sound and covered her mouth with her hand. She looked at him. Tears streaked her face. “This is my fault. I never should have told that child about the tree.”
Sometimes he wished neither of them knew. The lightning tree hidden in the center of the house thanks to centuries-old fae magic had caused all of this, but Lally telling Harlow about it didn’t mean it was Lally’s fault. “You can’t blame yourself. Olivia handled it for years and there was never an issue.” If only Olivia were still alive in this world and not trapped on the fae plane. Which reminded him he needed to visit her. Of course, if she were still alive, Harlow would never have come to New Orleans in the first place.
Lally dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her apron. “There was when I first told Olivia.”
“You mean when Olivia attempted to use the tree to bring Ava Mae’s ashes back to life.” Which was how Ava Mae’s spirit had first been freed. The tree had raised Ava Mae’s spirit from infant to adult but Harlow’s act of dumping the remaining ashes onto the lightning tree had finished the job, creating the monster they now knew as Ava Mae.
Lally nodded. “I shoulda known it would go the same with Harlow. She’s her mother’s child. Why should she act any different?” She sniffed and gave the grits another halfhearted stir before covering them and turning the heat off. “What are we gonna do?”
“I don’t know. Yet. But Fenton’s on it too. Maybe he’ll have some news for me this morning. And I know you don’t like him, but Nekai’s also working on it.” Neither he nor Lally was fond of the weaver fae, but the fact remained that Nekai had once saved Harlow’s life and his skills were valuable. Augustine wasn’t going to turn down help for this situation. “Fenton thought Nekai might know of another weaver fae who’d dealt with something like this before.”
“Good. That’s something.” She checked on a pan of sausage links in the oven. “You leaving soon then?”
“Not until after breakfast.”
“And until we figure something out, how we supposed to act around her? Like we know? Like we don’t?”
“Like we don’t.” He sipped his coffee. “The less we set Ava Mae off, the better.”
Lally nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”
He smiled, more for her sake than as a reflection of how he felt. “I know you can. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Lally Hughes.”
“That’s sweet of you. Speaking of strong women, you going to see Olivia anytime soon?”
“No immediate plan but I do need to visit her.” He smiled. “You want to come?”
“You know I do. I’m gonna make some lemon bars to take.” She hesitated. “So long as bringing me won’t get you into trouble again.”
Taking a human to the fae plane was a serious offense. One Augustine had already committed and one that had almost cost him everything. Now that he was Guardian, however, he was willing to bend that rule on occasion, as long as the visits were kept quiet. “It’ll be fine. Do her good to see you.”
“To see both of us.”
“I’ll make a plan.”
The floorboards creaked and a moment later, Ava Mae meandered into the kitchen in her bathrobe, her beautiful
cranberry-black hair in tousled waves around her shoulders. Harlow would have worn it knotted up in a messy loop. It gave Augustine some pleasure that he knew that much about the twin Ava Mae currently possessed.
She sighed and leaned against the door frame while nibbling on one fingernail. “What are you making a plan for? Something for me?”
Knowing that Harlow was Ava Mae’s prisoner made him want to snap at her. Instead, he smiled and kept up the game. “It can be. I was talking about a visit to your mother on the fae plane. You must be dying to see her again now that you’re feeling better. She’d certainly love to see you. I know you’re still new at traveling by mirror, so I’d be happy to take you with me.”
Her hand came away from her mouth to tangle in her hair. “I’m not sure I’m up for that just yet.”
He hadn’t imagined she would be. “Let me know if you change your mind. It’s nice to see you after three days. I was really starting to get worried, but that shower must have done you a world of good. You don’t look sick at all.” She also didn’t look like she’d showered, judging by her dry hair. “How’d you sleep?”
She shrugged, slanting her eyes at him coyly. “Could’ve been better. My head’s a little foggy, though, and I still feel achy.” She stretched and moaned for emphasis before peeling away from the door and making a beeline to the coffee.
Her lies were one on top of the other, but he had no problem going along with them. To a point. The overt flirting was so out of sync with the way Harlow would act. All it did was remind him that Ava Mae needed dealing with, which put him in a decidedly unromantic mood. “What are your plans today now that you’re feeling better?”
She yawned as she poured a cup of coffee. “Shopping. I need to get out of the house and get some fresh air. Not to mention some new clothes. You wanna come with?” She leaned against him, looking up through her lashes. “We could make a day of it. You could watch me try on some new pretties. I have a lot of underthings to buy.” She scooped up a heaping spoonful of sugar and stared at him as she stirred, her gaze holding the darkly wicked expression he’d come to recognize as purely Ava Mae. “Afterwards, we could grab some lunch. Or whatever.”
Garden of Dreams and Desires Page 1