“Of course.” He positioned himself by the two men, taking the spot that would also allow him to toss the men into the pond, since they obviously couldn’t walk in on their own power.
She and Zara moved around the opposite sides until they were as far from each other as they were from Ian. Zara yawned as she spread her arms, then began the incantation to open the mouth of the pit. As she worked, Giselle inhaled the morning air. Zara’s garden always had the most pleasurable aroma of earth and flowers. The sweet olives were in bud, adding to the honeyed perfume surrounding them. Something splashed near her feet. A frog, probably. She glanced down but all that remained were a few ripples.
She narrowed her focus. Something had dug into the dirt beside the pond. A chunk of soil was missing in a purposeful shape. Not like something left behind by an animal.
The sharp pull of magic brought her head back up. Faint lines of power danced blue and purple and green off Zara’s body, connecting her to Ian and Giselle. The pull increased as the lines flowed through both of them and connected, completing the circle.
At last, Zara’s attention shifted from the heavens to the water’s surface. “Ready,” she whispered, the strain of the spellwork evident in her thready tone.
“Hurry, Ian,” Giselle said. Zara needed to rest.
With a nod, he used one hand to raise the first bound man into the air. The man went still as he hovered in the air, then his struggling resumed with great force. Ian guided him to the pond’s center, then jerked his hand closed, breaking the link.
The man plunged into the pond. His head disappeared below and the now-familiar flash of light filled the water as though the sun had exploded in the depths of the pond.
Ian wasted no time in doing the same with the other man, who whimpered and moaned until he too vanished into the pond.
They held the spell as Zara uttered the final phrases to close the well of souls. As the last words left her mouth, her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed.
Giselle and Ian ran to her, meeting on their knees at Zara’s side. Ian scooped her into his arms. Her head lolled to one side. “I’ll carry her up to bed.”
Giselle ran ahead to open the door. “I wish there was something I could do.” Zara was as pale as ashes. Casting the ruina vox totem tonight might not be an option if she didn’t have the strength.
“You could smudge her room. Clear out any lingering stress from these past days. Other than that, she just needs to rest.” He started for the stairs.
“I’ll get some sage.” She followed him up but veered off into the altar room to collect her things. She bundled the sage, her thoughts returning to the divot by the pond. It was nothing to worry about. There were lots of explanations for a hole like that. Things like… nothing she could think of.
Maybe the stress of preparing for the chaos spell was getting to her, too. Or maybe it was the worrying over Zara.
“You okay?”
She jumped. “Ian, you startled me.”
He frowned. “You followed me up here.” He came to her side, taking the sage out of her fingers and holding her hands between his own calloused ones. There was comfort in the roughness of his skin, his familiar scent and willing spirit. “Hey, we’re all a little on edge. I know you’re worried about Zara, but she’s going to be okay.”
She wanted to agree, but that would be a lie. “You know our mother died performing chaos magic.”
Sympathy filled his gaze. “I had no idea. The coven was told… well, you know what the coven was told.”
She nodded. Her father had covered their mother’s death by telling everyone it had been suicide. “I don’t want to lose Zara the same way.”
He lifted one hand to cup her cheek. “You won’t. There are three of us and we are strong, powerful spell casters. We’ve done everything right in our preparations and will continue to do everything right. The risk has been minimized.” He smiled broadly and her fears retreated. “An hour after the sun sets, the fae will be running scared and the witches will once again be in control.”
“I hope you’re right. Perhaps I should work on the sigil.” It had to be drawn perfectly. In their blood, on virgin unbleached paper. A single error or wobbled line could throw the whole spell off.
“There is time for that.” He brushed his lips against hers. “You are about to become the Queen of New Orleans, my Lady.”
Despite what she’d been feeling a moment ago, she smiled. “What does that make you? The prince?”
His grin turned wicked. “I would much rather be your consort than your prince. My talents deal with pleasure, not diplomacy.”
“I’m aware of your talents.”
He laced his fingers with hers and brought the back of her hand to his mouth. “Then you should also be aware that they are always at your disposal.”
His warm breath on her knuckles raised goose bumps on her skin. “I am.”
“Are you sure?” He nipped the skin on her wrist, causing a soft moan to escape her lips. “I’m worried you may have forgotten everything I’m capable of doing for you, my Lady.”
“Maybe you should remind me after I smudge Zara’s room.”
“Maybe I’ll remind you first, then we’ll smudge her room together.” He kissed his way to her elbow.
Every pleasure point in her body came alive under his touch. It was hard to remember why she’d even come in here. “I… think that would be okay.”
“It will be more than okay, my Lady.”
She smiled as he led her out of the altar room and down the hall to the guest bedroom, but her attention was pulled briefly toward the closed door of Zara’s room. She sobered a bit as they passed it.
She might as well take her pleasure now. Come twilight, she and Zara could very well suffer the same fate their mother had. Death by chaos magic.
Not even Ian’s willing mouth and skillful hands could erase that thought from her mind.
The kitchen was empty when Harlow came down, but the coffee was brewing and there was a pan of sausages in the oven, so Lally was definitely awake. The only other indicator that Lally had been in the kitchen was that the bag of dirt from the witches’ garden was no longer sitting on the counter where Augustine had dropped it on their way in last night.
Harlow was getting eggs out of the fridge when Lally walked in. “Morning.”
“Morning, Harlow. I was just checking on Augie, but I’ll get to the rest of breakfast now.”
Harlow wasn’t that hungry, but her body needed the fuel. There was too much to do today to run on empty. The smell of the sausages baking was helping her work up an appetite, though. “How’s he doing?”
“Still asleep.” Lally moved to the stove and took out a pan. “Go sit, I’ve got this.”
But Harlow didn’t move. “How can he still be asleep?”
“I made him some tea.”
“Yeah, but the doctor gave him drugs and they wore off in a little over an hour.”
Lally smiled. “The doctor gave him something to help him sleep. I gave him something to make him sleep.”
Harlow suppressed a grin as she took her coffee to the table. “He’s not going to like that.”
“I don’t care.” She started cracking eggs into a bowl. “I’m his elder and a traiteuse. I know what’s best for that boy and right now, it’s to sleep and heal. He’s going to be worthless otherwise, and there’s a war coming.” She stared out the window for a moment. “I can feel it in my blood.”
Harlow cupped her hands around her mug but even the heat coming through the ceramic couldn’t shake the chill of Lally’s words. “I’m sure you’re right. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to prepare for it. I’ve only just learned how to control my gifts beyond the most basic of ways. I’m not sure I’m going to be any help to Augustine when it comes to fighting the witches.”
Whisk in hand, Lally nodded. “I worry about that for all of us. The witches are powerful. Too powerful, I think. And they’ve never had anything but har
d feelings for the fae.”
Harlow sipped her coffee, her thoughts spinning through her head faster than she could grasp them. “There’s got to be something we can do. Some way to figure out what the witches are up to. Are there any witches who are friendly with the fae?”
Lally dumped the eggs into a pan and stirred them. “None who’re gonna tell us what’s about to go down.” She shook her head. “It’s never been that way between the witches and the fae. No cooperation. Just bad blood for a long, long time.”
“What about the woman Augustine mentioned, the detective’s grandmother?”
“Queen Jewelia?” Lally stopped stirring to look at Harlow, a strange light in her eyes. “What about her?”
“Maybe I should go see her.” The idea of visiting a woman who was supposed to be a powerful voodoo sorceress intimidated Harlow a little. Rufus Ogun had been ready to serve up her soul to the witches without any compunction. “If Augustine was going to talk to her, there’s no reason I couldn’t. Right?”
Lally nodded slowly and went back to stirring the eggs. “Sure enough.”
“No reason I should be afraid of her, either. Right?”
Lally pursed her lips. “She’s an extremely powerful voodoo mambo, so there’s plenty reason to be afraid of Jewelia, but none that should be of any direct concern of yours.”
“Well, that’s… reassuring.” Except that it wasn’t. But help was help and any edge they could get would be valuable. “I guess I should call Fenton.”
“Why’s that?”
“So he can set things up.”
“No need. I know Jewelia. We’ll go see her after breakfast.”
“That’s great, but shouldn’t we still call or something?”
Lally set plates out. “I can if you’d like, but there’s no reason. For one thing, she’ll be expecting us.”
“She will?”
Lally pulled the sausages from the oven. “She knows things like that.”
“And? I feel like there’s a second thing.”
“There is.” Lally divided the scrambled eggs between the two plates, then went back for the sausages. “Jewelia’s my niece and family doesn’t need an invite. Now eat your breakfast and then we’ll go.”
She’d said it as if being related to a scary voodoo sorceress wasn’t any big deal. Typical Lally. “So the detective is your great-nephew? And Jewelia is your sister’s kid?”
“She’s my mother’s brother’s child. Well, more removed than that, but close. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
Harlow smirked. Lally loved her murky details. Harlow spent the rest of the meal mulling over what meeting Jewelia would be like. Then a thought occurred to her. “Ava Mae can’t get too far away from the tree unless she’s got a body to host her.”
Lally kept eating. “Mm-hmm.”
“You said something about that once. Not being able to get too far away from the tree or you’d get sick.”
“That’s right.” She drank some coffee, then added more hot sauce to her eggs.
“So how are you…” Harlow gestured toward the door. “I mean, are you going to be okay leaving the—wait a minute, you are going with me, right?”
“Yes, child.” Lally set her fork down, then reached to her necklace and tapped a finger on the locket dangling from the gold chain around her neck. “I carry a little piece of the tree in here when I have to leave the house. I don’t do it often, though. Even that tiny bit could cause trouble if it fell into the wrong hands.”
“Does Jewelia know about the tree?”
“She does.”
“Don’t you worry about that?”
“No.”
“Because she’s family?”
The strange, hard light returned to Lally’s eyes. “Because she knows the tree brings death and destruction. And she knows that I will level that same force against anyone who attempts to use the tree for their own purposes.” Lally tipped her head to one side in a kind of nod. “Also because she’s family.”
“Okay then.” Harlow finished her breakfast in silence. When she’d moved into the house after her mother’s death, she’d thought Lally a kind, caring woman who’d not only befriended Olivia but put her own life on hold to look after her. And Lally remained that. She’d been Olivia’s best friend, and still was, judging by the way the two had acted when Harlow had watched them reunite on the fae plane.
But the more Harlow came to know about Lally, the more she realized that Lally was much, much more than just her late mother’s companion and housekeeper. So much more, Harlow’s admiration for the woman had turned into what she imagined would be considered a “healthy fear.” It made her wonder what would have happened if Ava Mae had tried to carry through with her threats to harm Lally.
Harlow could only guess that Ava Mae would have been the casualty of that conflict, not Lally. She took her plate to the sink. “I’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”
Lally nodded. “Sounds good to me. You’ll have to drive, but I can show you the way.”
“Not a problem.” Lally was the last person Harlow was going to argue with.
Chapter Thirteen
Jewelia’s house was a cute little place located in a neighborhood Lally called Treme. Harlow liked the house’s soft blue exterior finished with white and the front porch with its squared columns. The yard was tidy and pots of flowering plants swung between the columns. The place had a welcoming air that eased her nerves but she was still glad she’d put gloves on. Who knew what she might touch in a mambo’s home?
She stood at Lally’s side and let the older woman ring the bell. This was her family, after all.
The door opened shortly and a much younger-looking woman than Harlow had expected stood on the other side of the screen. “Well, Tante Eulalie, as I live and breathe.” She pushed the screen door wide. “Come in. I had a feeling you’d be stopping by.”
Lally nodded. “I thought you might.” She rested a hand on Harlow’s shoulder. “This here’s my friend Harlow Goodwin. Harlow, meet my grandniece, Queen Jewelia.”
Jewelia’s eyes lit up. “Well now, it’s a true pleasure to meet you, Harlow. Come on in, I’ve got coffee cake and a fresh pot of coffee.”
Harlow followed her into the house as Lally shut the front door. Cake was the last thing she wanted after a breakfast she hadn’t been hungry for, but she got the sense that you didn’t turn down that kind of offer in this kind of situation. The warm aroma of cinnamon and sugar that greeted her made the prospect a little less daunting. “That sounds lovely, thank you.”
Jewelia guided them toward the kitchen table, which was already set for three. “You’re the one that fae boy is in love with. He’s a nice fellow. Very sincere. I take it you being here means your problem is resolved? The one with your sister?” She stared deeply into Harlow’s eyes. “I can’t sense anything improper going on inside you so I’d say yes.”
Trying to hide her astonishment, Harlow nodded and took a seat. “You’re right, my twin sister’s spirit isn’t possessing me anymore, thanks.” Jewelia was definitely related to Lally.
Jewelia glanced at Harlow’s gloves. “You’ve got the touch, too, I see. Best you keep those on in here.”
Harlow tucked her folded hands onto her lap.
Lally swatted the younger woman on the shoulder. “Jewelia, enough. You’re scaring the child.” She took up the silver carafe and began filling cups. “Don’t mind her, Harlow. She’s trying to impress you right from the get-go. That’s what mambos do so they can charge you extra based on how impressed you turn out to be.”
“Now who’s spinning yarn?” Jewelia sliced the crumbly, glazed Bundt cake working overtime as the table’s centerpiece. “You’re far scarier than I am, Tante.” She added a thick slab of cake to Harlow’s plate before dishing one out for Lally and then herself. At last, she sat. “So, Harlow, what sort of help do you need that brings you to my house?”
Harlow hadn’t said anything about needing help, but the wo
man before her was clearly astute. She stuffed a bit of cake in her mouth to buy some time.
Lally rescued her. “The witches are planning something.”
Jewelia nodded as though she was contemplating that bit of news. “So I’ve heard.”
“The cake is delicious,” Harlow piped up.
Jewelia smiled, taking another few years off her already impossibly young face. “Thank you.”
Harlow took a breath and plunged in. “Have you heard anything else about what the witches might be planning?”
“No, but I’m guessing you have.” Jewelia stirred sugar into her coffee. “What do you know?”
Harlow put her fork down and explained what had happened to her, about the souls, about the number being collected and about the others still trapped beneath the pond. There was no point holding back information now. “We’ve got to rescue those poor people.”
“Ogun can stay in there for all I care, but the rest don’t deserve it. One is fae, you say?”
“Yes. He’s one of Augustine’s lieutenants. And a good friend.” She ached to think of Cy stuck down there.
Jewelia tipped her head to the side, her eyes narrowing slightly. “He may not be affected by the witches’ spell, or at least not affected as greatly, but the humans…” She shook her head. “I’m not sure they can be saved.”
Harlow leaned forward. “Why? What do you think the witches are going to do?”
Jewelia went quiet.
Lally folded her hands in her lap. “Out with whatever it is you’re not saying, Jewelia. This is not a time to hold things back, girl.”
“I’m not. Just trying to suss it all out.” Jewelia sighed. “It doesn’t sound good. For witches, a well of souls is a kind of battery. It’s meant to power something greater. A spell they wouldn’t otherwise be able to cast on their own. There’s three of them, you say?”
Harlow nodded. “Two sisters and a man.”
Garden of Dreams and Desires Page 14