He stopped at the food table and stood on the head of the ice sculpture, mimicking Cupid’s pose, now with a bow in his hands and a quiver of arrows on his back. If this was Cupid, it was a malevolent and menacing version of the happy little cherub. It seemed to suck all of the joy out of the room, and the roar of conversation diminished to a slow rumble.
I tried to dismiss the ill-behaved spirit Irene had conjured up and shot an eye dagger at her as I walked toward the Yates table. She folded her arms and smiled menacingly and then turned to greet new guests who were entering. It was Kyle Carnigan with his deputy, Zach Fontaine, along with Happy Doyle, the owner of the vintage car shop on Antique Row. Zach moved into a room in Happy’s house when moved to town for his new position with Kyle’s security agency recently. Now Happy, a somewhat plump 42-year-old bachelor, seemed to be getting out a little more. He looked happier and a little thinner – and more stylish too. Zach, a tall and buff African-American and former Navy Seal, was a good influence on him.
The Yates men were already seated with full plates, and Beth was just sitting down to join them with a neatly filled plate of her own.
“How’s your over-priced breakfast, guys?” I shook Travis’s shoulder teasingly, but wasn’t really sure what they thought of the food – or the price.
“Ohhh! This is a fabulous meal, Jessie!” Beth said enthusiastically as Carson slid her chair under her as she sat. She didn’t even give a glance to make sure the chair would be there for her. “Don’t let these guys pull your leg like that. It’s breakfast, appetizers, lunch, and dinner all rolled into one – if I even have room for my jumbo sea scallops.”
Her plate was quite full, but mostly with sensible choices like smoked salmon, veggies, and sushi. They guys were all filling up on pancakes, eggs, and enough bacon to stop a normal person’s heart.
“Carlo was right, Jessie,” Percival added, “This meal is worth every penny and more. Some people just haven’t refined their taste enough to appreciate fine cuisine. Like Travis here – he could survive on a diet of peanut butter, bologna, and beans.”
“Well,” Travis protested, “I think I might be learning a thing or two here. These Eggs Benedict and banana pecan pancakes are winning me over. Pretty soon I might be switching from coffee to tea, paper plates to fine china…”
“And women to men,” His brother Carson teased him.”
“No chance of that,” Travis said taking my hand. “I’ll never give up my best girl…or my steak and potatoes.”
That was sweet. I kept one eye on the petite red demon as I made my parting comments. “Well, on that note, I’ll let you all enjoy your meal.”
“Come on over to The Swamp Fox for prime rib tomorrow night, Jessie,” Carson suggested, and Beth nodded her agreement.”
“I’ll have to see if I can find a date!” I pinched Travis’s shoulder gently and walked away.
Carson and Beth had bought the old Swamp Fox tavern and rebuilt it into a beautiful new bar and restaurant just south of town. They also took over and revitalized the Ghost Walk Tours that happened every full moon and every new moon. Travis bought forty acres of land a little further up the river from L’Auberge, just before the landing for the big airboat ferry between Whispering Pines and the much bigger town of Stony Point, on the western tip of the river’s horseshoe bend. He built a house and turned his acreage into a successful horse-riding ranch.
Then I went over to check on the buffet tables to see what needed to be refilled. That’s when it hit the fan. An entire horrible little scene played itself out, but nobody knew it was happening.
The little red imp launched himself up toward the ceiling and pulled twin arrows from his quiver – one blue arrow and one pink one. With a hideous high-pitched giggle he put the arrows in his bow and let them fly. Each arrow took its own trajectory, the blue one heading for Beth and the pink one for a man in the corner booth who was sitting with his wife and three young children.
The two arrow-pierced patrons raised their heads and their eyes met, and they both looked very confused.
Then the red rascal did it again, this time with an even more repulsive laugh. This time his marks were Maddy (my Inn manager) and Happy Doyle. She filled Happy’s water glass, and they both smiled brightly at each other.
I spotted Irene standing in the doorway with a big smile and her arms folded. She leaned on the edge of the opening and crossed one ankle in front of the other. Then she nodded at the evil little Cupid.
His eyes got very big and his grin touched both of his ears as he launched two more arrows, the pink one hitting Travis right in the chest and the blue one was heading for Irene. The guests might have thought I was a little crazy when my jaw dropped and I ran over to Irene. She caught the arrow with her hand just as I approached and stopped in front of her.
“Give that to me,” I demanded in a low, firm tone.
She smiled and extended her hand toward me with the arrow clenched tightly in her fist.
“Take it,” she said mockingly.
As I reached for it, she quickly retreated her hand and plunged the arrow directly into her heart. She literally shivered with excitement from her awful deed and chirped out a couple of satisfied giggles. Then her eyes opened wide and she inhaled deeply and quickly.
“Ooh la la! I do declare I can feel that delicious man’s heart beating for me right now.”
I gave her a stern look, but she just smiled.
“It won’t be long before he’s checking me out instead of you. Checkmate, dear Jessie.”
“You may have overplayed your hand this time…bitch.” Yes, I went there.
She put on a look of phony indignation as I stared deeply into the abyss of her hollow black eyes. But her superior demeanor faded when I lifted the hair from my neck and turned around. I kept the fifth star under my back hairline covered with my hand, but the four stars she saw seemed to fill her with fear. What I didn’t know at the time was that the blue stars I had seen just two months ago now each contained a gold star inside that would soon fill each birthmark entirely.
“I wonder if Travis will love you with hairy warts on your face and tongue and the odor of a camel’s breath oozing out of every pore in your body.”
Irene remained silent and somber as I put on a smile for a passing guest. “Now get rid of your little friend and undo this…this…voodoo.”
She swallowed hard. “I…I can’t.”
“Then I will.”
“And neither can you, Jessie. Lucius is a minor deity from the realm of the anti-gods. He’s an immortal, and our powers are useless against him.”
“Anti-gods? You mean devils?”
She shrugged. “Well, basically…I guess you could say that.”
“Then send him back to Hell, Irene. I mean it. Do it now.”
“It’s not that easy, Jessie.”
It was too busy to work out the details with a hundred people in the place and more waiting to get in. I couldn’t believe that so many people were coming all at once for a forty-dollar breakfast. “It’s getting really busy, Irene. Go entertain the guests who are waiting with some free readings and advertise the ball tonight,” I commanded her as if she were my fairytale stepchild. I turned on my heels to get back to work but stopped short and looked at the Gypsy witch one last time. “And if my man’s lips get within three feet of yours, your feet will turn to hooves…” I took a step closer. “…your nose will turn to a long furry snout…” Closer again…this time right in her face. “…and you’ll squeal like a swine whenever you try to speak…”
Her eyes were wide and I could hear her gulp.
“…Forever!” I think she got the message.
Evil Cupid, or “Lucius,” as she called him, was still up to his tricks.
Carlo stepped out of the double kitchen doors to check his buffet and greet his guests. “Bon appétit, mes amis!” the large man greeted the crowd, which returned a smattering of applause.
Before he had taken three steps the lit
tle devil shot him with a pink arrow, its blue counterpart connecting with the heart of Gladys Perkins, the town’s timid librarian, who was siting at a small table by herself. Carlo turned mid-step from his path to speak with the awaiting food critic, Antoine DeBonnaire, and faced the thirty-something woman seated across the room. Their eyes met. He took a long-stemmed red rose from the vase on the counter and delivered it to her with a broad and joyous smile. Her face turned bright red, and Carlo sat and started what seemed to be a pleasant conversation with her.
But the demon wasn’t done. He shot another half-dozen pink arrows into Carlo and let six blue ones fly helter-skelter. One hit an elderly woman with a walker refilling her plate at the buffet while another zeroed in on the heart of the food critic’s very attractive and much younger wife. Granny came out of the kitchen just in time to take an arrow to her own heart, and her eyes seemed to turn to glowing stars as she focused on Carlo.
The chef’s head was nearly spinning with dizziness as the remaining arrows found their targets. One projectile surprised Anika from the pawnshop, who was helping our servers this morning. The next one pierced the heart of the beautiful red-headed girlfriend of Sheriff Muldoon as they entered the dining room, and last one hit our teen-aged waitress, Ashley.
Conversations were happening between odd pairings all around the dining room. Some were nice to see, like Maddy and Happy and maybe even Carlo and Gladys. But others were very disturbing. Travis was sitting with his untouched steak in front of him and his arms at his sides. He looked very troubled.
This was a mess, and I had to fix it.
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Chapter Five
I was new at this sorcery game and didn’t know where to turn. Granny might have some ideas, but she was totally under the spell of the love arrows. Anika had been hit too. She seemed a little woozy but was handling it much better. She was my only hope.
I walked over to her and unloaded her full tray of food onto the table of the hungry diners. Then I pulled her over to the counter and set down the large tray.
“Anika…do that time bubble for us.”
She had done it a few times before. She says an odd word, and the rest of the world seems to come nearly to a stop while we have time to talk privately before anything else happens.
“What, Jessie?” Her eyes were spinning as she looked at me, and I could tell she was trying to get control of her mind and emotions.
What was that word she used? “Lassabb,” I said, and wiggled my fingers. Nothing happened.
Anika understood what I was trying to do and giggled a little in her own charming way. “Lassabb,” she said with a wave of her hand, and everything around us came to a halt – or nearly so. It would now take a minute for a woman to get a fork from her plate to her mouth, and the roar of conversations sounded like the low rumble of a vinyl record at a very low speed.
“Why didn’t it work for me?” I asked her.
“Hehe!” The second “he” was almost an octave higher than the first. “It has to be in the language you were born into, Jessie. I use Hungarian words, and you have to use English. Just say ‘slower’ and think of what you want to do.”
“Or French,” I said, as I was born in Louisiana Cajun country where both languages were used, and often combined. “That makes sense, I guess. I’ve gotten things to happen with English words before.”
“Jessie, this is serious. I was able to move the arrow’s spell into Moondance’s heart, so I should be okay for now…although he’s not too crazy about it.”
Moondance is a black cat. Okay…how do I explain this? Gus is the old silent guy who runs the antique pawnshop in the storefront on the other side of the Inn, just across the lobby. And Anika and Moondance – and Eddy the biker too – are all alter personalities of Gus. Sort of.
Gus is like a shape shifter, except he began as four separate people – Gus, Anika, Moondance, and Eddy. I think Moondance used to be a person before he became a cat. Oh – and Anika is a short plump witch. Old Gus is kind of a guru, and I can communicate with him and Moondance telepathically. I’ve only met Eddy a couple of times, and he just drives the motorcycle when they need to go somewhere. Actually, he comes with a running motorcycle when Anika morphs into him. Try to keep up! Actually – don’t worry about it. I’ll explain it whenever it becomes important. For now, you just need to know that Anika is a witch and she can change into other people and a cat. And I’m kind of becoming a witch or something too.
“So, please help me, Anika! How can I stop this?”
“You’ve got to get Lucius back to the realm of demons.”
“Swell.”
“Once he’s gone, the love spells will disappear. You’re probably going to have to trick him.”
“What can I do now – before everyone ruins their marriages and relationships?”
“There’s nothing you can do for the people who got shot by the arrows. You can only cast a spell on the others – make it so they don’t care if their spouses and lovers are flirting with someone else.”
That didn’t sound like a very good solution – and how was I supposed to cast a spell on myself?
“Here – take this.” Anika pulled a small silver fork out of her bra and handed it to me.
I took the fork, which looked like a very old heirloom fork for a young child. It was beautifully ornate and had a large clear gemstone in the handle. I rubbed the stone with my thumb and gave her a WTF look.
“My nagymama gave it to me when I was three. She got it from my dédnanya when she was a girl. It’s very old.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“It’s kind of like training wheels for your powers. Irene uses a wand to concentrate and direct her powers, and you can use this. I don’t need it anymore. Gyorsabb.”
Our time bubble burst, and life went back to its normal tempo. I waved the fork in a circle above my head, and I could actually see the power coming out of it like glittering waves. “Protect them all,” I whispered, and I cast a protective dome over all of my customers.
Anika looked a little shocked. Then I pointed my fork at Lucius. “Get out!” I commanded silently. I swung my arm back towards the entrance, and the little imp let out a surprised grunt as he went flying out the door, as if he were stuck with my powerful fork. For now, at least, the mischievous Cupid was gone.
“I don’t know what you are,” Anika whispered to me, “but you’re not a witch. No mere witch could cast out a demon so easily.”
I briefly considered putting the fork in my bra, but I knew it wouldn’t be very secure there, so I tucked it into my pocket and walked to the table with the Yates family. Travis’ little brother, Carson, was looking at his wife suspiciously as Beth eyed the recipient of her complementary love-arrow across the room with flirty abandon.
I put my hand on Travis’ shoulder. “Eat,” I said. I looked at them all with a smile, “There should be nothing on your minds right now except enjoying this meal as a family!”
Those were commands that I had spoken, not sentiments, and they all obeyed willingly as they began eating and enjoying the feast.
Carlo had moved to the table of the food critic, Antoine DeBonnaire. The renowned restaurant reviewer from New Orleans had reserved a large round table for six, for himself and his entourage. Carlo had squeezed a chair in between Antoine and his wife, who had one hand on Carlo’s knee and was tickling the chef’s chin with her other hand. Carlo’s eyes were fixed on her generously exposed cleavage. The tuxedo-clad critic looked quite disturbed as he twirled the end of his waxed moustache.
“It’s so wonderful that your wife is getting along so nicely with my chef, isn’t it, Monsieur DeBonnaire?” I looked directly into his eyes and rubbed the little fork in my pocket.
His demeanor changed immediately, which seemed to confuse him at first. “Why, yes! Yes it is!” He smiled and laughed heartily as he cut a nice morsel of his
very pink prime rib, dipped it halfway into the au jus, and put it delicately into his mouth. His finely honed and discriminatory palate went to work tasting, testing, and savoring the meat. “Superb,” he said and went back for another bite.
“I hope your accommodations in the suite are satisfactory,” I said, looking first at Antoine and then at his wife.
“Everything is wonderful!” She nodded and looked back at Carlo.
“Please let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more enjoyable, ma’am,” I said to take her attention away from her love spell for a moment.
“Please…call me Marguerite!” The beautiful young trophy wife batted her perfectly curled fake eyelashes demurely.
“Eat!” I commanded.
“I…I think I will!” Marguerite picked up her fork and took a piece of cut fruit from her plate.
“Carlo, we need more Béarnaise,” I said. “Ginny can’t make it properly yet.”
“Of course, Madame Jessica.” He excused himself and went to the kitchen.
“Enjoy your meal, everyone.”
I smiled at the group as Antoine whispered some notes for his secretary to jot down.
“Anjolie,” he said, then whispered something secretively into her ear.
The aristocratic critic loved to surround himself with beautiful women, it seemed. Anjolie was a slender dark-haired beauty in her early 40s with perfectly shaped and toned legs crossed professionally beneath her short black skirt. She was seated next to Antoine with a small laptop, and there was a large well-dressed man – perhaps a valet or bodyguard in the next chair. I smiled at him and he nodded back.
“Just call him Rambo,” Anjolie said with a cheerful smile, and he shook my hand. “I’m Anjolie Chambers. Everything is so delicious, and our room is beyond our expectations.”
Jesse Delacroix: Curse of the Bloodstone Arrow (The Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book 3) Page 3