Elemental Tears: An Urban Fantasy Series (The Eldritch Files Book 8)

by Phaedra Weldon

  The temperature was already rising and Crwys was glad he'd slipped on a light-colored golf shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Of course, Levi was dressed, as always, in a sharp suit and sunglasses. As a Revenant, or Vampire in laymen's terms, he wasn't a real fan of the sun. Nor it of him. Crwys spotted Captain Prescott, their boss, and another man, uniformed, and a bit older.

  "Holliard, Tulose, this is Sergeant Mulder Quan of the Tulane University Police."

  They all shook hands. Made nice. But Crwys was pretty sure this guy wasn't happy about French Quarter cops honing in on his territory. And to be honest, neither he nor Tulose knew why they were there.

  Quan slipped his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants. "First off, I'd like to welcome you and thank you for your help."

  "Tell your captain we'll do the best we can."

  He shook his head. "He didn't request you. I did. Though…I thought there were three of you."

  "Detective Tasoula Damali is out of town," Captain Prescott said quickly. "She'll be back tomorrow."

  Out of town. Is that what she'd told Prescott? It was a good excuse and sure made more sense than saying, "Sorry, but I'm monitoring the Dragon's Eye because a crazy Southern Conjurer is trying to break in and destroy the fabric of the universe as we know it." Of course that wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was in the same dire category.

  She was definitely out of town.

  "Why did you specifically request us?" Levi asked.

  Quan looked at each of them and seemed to be thinking about what he was about to say. "We've had two other murders in the parish, this is the third, and all of them have been pretty gruesome. All three have the look of being some kind of ritualistic killing."

  "Look?" Crwys had noticed the man's emphasis on the word.

  "What kind of ritual?" Levi asked.

  "Voodoo."

  Well that just sent up alarm bells all over the place. If there was one thing Crwys and Levi knew, it was the fact that Voodoo practitioners did not practice human sacrifice, no matter what Hollywood put out there. Filmmakers always put out what sold, and through the decades, Voodoo sacrifice and Witchy death spells were box office gold. He thought of Sam and her constant struggle to educate law enforcement on the truth. "What exactly makes some think it's Voodoo, but you don't?"

  Quan nodded his head to the tree, which was roped off with yellow tape. "Come see for yourself."

  With a glance at Levi, Crwys filed in behind the officer as he guided them to the other side.

  What he saw made him gasp and made Levi pull air in between his teeth.

  Whoever the victim was, it was hard to tell if they were female or male. It looked like their clothing had been removed before they were nailed and tied to the tree with thick rope. Flies buzzed around, adding the only sound to the scene as they examined it. Crwys squatted down in front of the tree, taking in the whole picture.

  The victim was displayed with their arms up and out, though their legs had been tightly bound together. At their feet, on the sandy ground of the tree, lay a black cloth with many familiar accoutrements on top of it. There were black, white, red and green candles, all burned down more than halfway. Hard puddles of wax ran together to create a miasma of varied black. There was a small cauldron with ash inside of it, varied coins on the cloth, a few shells, a string of wooden beads, and a long-bladed knife.

  At first glance, Crwys saw what Quan had been hinting at.

  This is staged, came Ashur's voice in Crwys's mind. The Demon within Levi, the one that made him a Revenant, was a long-time friend of Crwys's. Or it was done by someone who hasn't grasped the finer points of sacrifice.

  Can you be a little more specific? Crwys conveyed his thought back to Ashur.

  There are pieces of Ceremonial, Wicca and a bit of Voodoo scattered on the cloth. None of which work together in harmony, I can assure you. But that isn't the telltale sign of this being an abomination.

  The Demon was right. Crwys stood and faced the real tragedy here. The victim.

  "You see it, Detectives?" Quan asked.

  Crwys glanced over at him and noticed Prescott hadn't joined them. Either she'd already seen it or she didn't want to. "Yeah. The bastard removed the face and chest."

  The perp had literally cut around the hairline and peeled the skin away, as well as the muscle, leaving only the eyes in their sockets, bone and the death mask of teeth. They’d continued over the front of the neck and stopped around the navel. Perched atop the victim's head was a black top hat. Neither Wicca nor Voodoo condoned this sort of thing. With Ceremonial…he had to put that one in the gray category. Ceremonial Magic was more of a self-centered pursuit. But putting that aside, nothing Crwys could think of required this level of violence, except a sick mind.

  "That's been one of the few common threads in these murders," Quan said as he stepped up. "The first corpse had their entire front skin and muscles removed, from the navel to the forehead. The second, just the chest up, and this one, just the face. It's like a digression instead of a progression."

  Levi said, "Makes me think of Baron Samedi."

  "Yep," Quan said. “But I believe it’s Papa Ghede. Each of the victims were wearing a similar hat, but each of the hats have a different manufacturer. But that's not what I was referring to."

  Crwys stood and took a few steps back, surveying the entire grisly scene. The smell of blood wasn't as strong as he assumed it would be. A closer look revealed very little blood around the tree. "The victim wasn't killed here." He looked at Quan. "They were skinned somewhere else."

  Quan nodded. "Yes, but—"

  "It smells wrong," Levi said as he knelt beside the makeshift altar.

  Crwys frowned. "Smells wrong?"

  "He's right," Quan said as he moved closer and pointed at the altar. "Not to mention, the area's missing the finer points of a Voodoo ritual. Certain…images aren't present. If each of the victims were mutilated to resemble a Loa, why not actually perform the correct ritual? There's no rum, no cigars for tobacco. Not even a grilled peanut."

  Levi made a noise. "No veve. Not one."

  "You're a practitioner," Crwys said to Quan. It was a realization more than an accusation.

  "Yes. My mother was a Mambo when she was alive."

  That's when the familiarity of his face hit Crwys. He heard Ashur's mental gasp and knew the old Demon had made the same connection. "You're Nadeen's son."

  Quan narrowed his eyes at Crwys and gave him a slow nod. "Transferred in from Atlanta. Was training to work cyber-crime but changed my mind. Wanted to know more about how my mother was killed. I know what your wife did, what she went through with one of your kind, Detective Holliard, and helped solve what happened to my mother. She prevented any kind of magic war between the Voodoo community and the Witches. And we're all in her debt. But my mother's position has to be filled."

  If there was one thing Crwys hated, it was being caught unprepared. After Lethe's machinations nearly a year ago, and Nadeen's funeral procession through the streets of the quarter, Crwys hadn't given much thought to the rebuilding of the Voodoo community in New Orleans, which looking back, seemed kind of a dumb thing to ignore. New Orleans was ripe with magic, all kinds of magic, and realizing that Nadeen's influence as a powerful Mambo had been a focal point for the community, her position of Storm Warden would eventually have to be filled.

  "Are you the new Houngan?" Levi asked.

  Quan shook his head. "Not right now. I never had an interest in this sort of thing. But growing up with my mom…it rubbed off. I know enough to realize"—he pointed to the scene—"this shit has got to stop. The community's in an uproar. The only reason they haven't started pointing fingers at the Witches or the Ceremonials is because whoever is doing this, is including some of their symbols on the altar. No one knows if it’s there to implicate the other faiths or if this person is actually using them."

  Crwys looked back down at the display of things. And that was what sort of struck him. He'd seen Mambo Nadeen's altar
back when she was killed. In fact, all through his long life he'd seen all kinds of altars, even those made in the dedication of his Mother. "It doesn't look like any of the stuff I'm looking at was used in what this ritual was supposed to be about."

  "The candles were burned," Levi said.

  Quan chimed in. "There was incense burned as well. What is this sick mother fucker after? And worse…what if they make Papa Ghede mad?"

  “You sure it’s Papa Ghede?”

  “I think for now it’s more of a possibility.”

  "You believe in this stuff?" Crwys asked.

  Quan fixed him with a hard stare. "You would ask me that? As I stand here talking to a Dragon and a Vampire?"

  Crwys and Levi exchanged glances. He has a point…

  "Detectives," Quan said. "This is why I wanted you to see it. I need your wife's help, Detective Holliard. I need her to find out who is doing this and why the hell are they making it look like this."

  Apollo… Ashur's voice intruded once again, using Crwys's given name.

  I know.

  You must tell him the truth.

  It's not my truth to tell.

  But she's not—

  Ashur, she may not be able to do magic anymore, but she's still got that head full of knowledge. We can talk to Kyle too, and have Ivan look this up.

  Ashur didn't answer and Levi looked away.

  "Is there a problem?" Quan asked.

  "No," Crwys said. "I'll talk to Sam. Is there any way I can get copies of crime scene photos for all the victims?"

  "I'll have them couriered over to Bell, Book and Candle." He sighed. "And tell her thank you for me?"

  "Sure."

  Crwys and Levi finished up and headed back to the Mustang. "You're being very quiet," Crwys said, once they were back in the car and he had the air conditioner blasting cool air in their faces.

  Levi stared straight ahead, and when he spoke, his voice held the dual tone of both the human and the Demon. "I just…" He looked at Crwys with his black eyes and slightly inhuman face. His fangs were visible as he spoke. "I see darkness ahead, Apollo. Tread…carefully."

  THREE

  After delivering that bombshell about the God Mother, it would seem a bit self-serving if I said all hell broke loose in that room.

  But yeah…it did.

  I'd realized pretty early on in my life that though most Witches gave thanks to the God Mother, not a lot of them actually believed in her. Sure, we all have Elementals, magic was real, we could see it and manipulate it, and I'd even survived the curse of Arcane Magic. We had Dragons, Vampires and even real Faeries in our midst, not to mention Werewolves and our recent encounter with a kind of Elf.

  But believe in a higher deity?

  Insert rude noise here.

  No. It was the same here as it was in any large religious organization on this planet. Someone involved says they talked to the All Everything and suddenly you get questions like…

  Why would She talk to you?

  What makes you think it was Her?

  How can you even think the God Mother would want you to give up being a Witch?

  I can't believe you're that deluded to think She would grant you the pleasure of her attention.

  Yeah, that last one came from the Cromwell look-a-like. I really wished someone would say his name. And who the hell told Cosgrove I wasn't a Witch anymore?

  Cosgrove hammered that gavel for a good while before everyone calmed down. I looked at Arden, who was looking at me, a weird look on her face. I noticed she hadn't said a word.

  Once everyone calmed down, Cosgrove stood and took in the room. "I will not have that kind of disruption in this room again. Do I make myself clear?"

  Lots of nods, a few grumblings, but overall, it looked like they were all gonna be quiet for a bit.

  "Now," he continued, still standing. "Samantha, the question of you being a Witch or not wasn't the original reason we wanted to talk to you, but it was brought to my attention…last night."

  He’d just lied. And I knew it. I'd never been able to really sense lies before, but…that bastard was lying. Had he already known? Did he know at the wedding? I'd pretty much kept the truth a secret. And I knew Dags hadn't told anyone, not even his girlfriend Illiana. So…had it been Kyle? Ivan?

  Bastien?

  Dharma?

  I decided to be a bit proactive. "What was the original reason?"

  "I hardly think that's as important now."

  "I don't," Arden stood as she spoke. "I think the original reason is a more serious one."

  Cosgrove turned to her. "More serious than a Witch no longer having her powers? My dear lady…we have to look into the implications of this. Was her power taken from her because of the Arcane infesting her body? Was it taken by an outside force? Could this same thing happen to us as well?"

  Oh, there was the real worry, wasn't it? A bell went off in my head the moment he said that. My stress level was pinging at the roof and my stomach was churning. I was also starting to cramp a bit. I was uncomfortable and I wanted air. Fresh air. None of this incense-thickened crap.

  "Happen to us?" one of the other Witches said.

  That idea hadn't occurred to some of them, but I could see from their faces it had occurred to a lot of them.

  "Silence!" Cosgrove roared.

  Pin drop time.

  Arden continued, "She already said the God Mother had her give it up."

  "That's preposterous."

  "Why?" Arden put her hands on her hips.

  The Cromwell look-a-like stood and faced Arden. "Because the God Mother would never take power away from a Witch, unless she or he had trespassed against a sacred covenant."

  I frowned. We had sacred covenants? Was he serious?

  Arden leaned around Cosgrove and focused on the Cromwell look-a-like. "Elder Thorn (finally a name!), I know you're new here, since you pretty much replaced the crazy Dragon lady that she"—and Arden pointed at me—"recently vanquished. But that's just it. Samantha has done more for this community than you or Cosgrove or the late Cromwell ever did. Even he admitted Samantha Holliard is…was…a very powerful Witch."

  "Was," Thorn said. "So we have to ask, if she insists on naming the God Mother as the architect, why were her powers removed?"

  Cosgrove held up his hands. "Enough. The why is something we can look into. What we have decide is what to do with Sam."

  "Do with me?" I blurted this out as I shifted my position. Damn…the cramps were moving from my pelvic area to my side, and it was getting damn uncomfortable. Was this from that sugar I drank? If it was, like hell I was gonna report in the morning and drink more of it. Uh uh. "No one's doing anything with me."

  "You must realize," Thorn said, before Cosgrove could answer. "That you can't continue as a Cowen and know about the Parliament, or magic in general."

  I blinked at him. Cowen?

  He'd called me a…Cowen. For a Witch, that was the equivalent of being called a bastard, in a sense. It meant I was just human. Nothing special. That I didn't understand magic. That I didn't belong.

  "Thorn, that's enough," Arden warned.

  "I don't think so," Thorn said, and a few of the others in the gallery agreed with him, vocally. "She cannot be allowed to retain her knowledge of us, of magic, of this part of the world. That is our law."

  Cosgrove waved at him. "Yes, yes, I see your point. But this is also an unprecedented occurrence. We've never had someone move from being a Witch to a Cowen so thoroughly. I'm not sure the same rules apply." And Cosgrove got a louder vocal backing.

  "Oh? So we're going to give Samantha Hawthorne special dispensation?" Thorn looked put out. I glared at him.

  "No," Arden said. "We, as a governing group, have to weigh all the options. One of which you are ignoring."

  Cosgrove nodded to her. "That was my worry as well."

  Thorn looked from one to the other. "What are we ignoring? Miss Hawthorne is no longer a Witch."

  Arden leaned toward him
. "Mrs. Holliard may not be a Witch, but she is married to someone very special. I wouldn't recommend angering that someone."

  Cosgrove shook his head. "No. Not in the least. I think, given the circumstances—"

  "What is so special about her husband?"

  I gasped out loud, both at being shocked this guy apparently didn't know anything about Crwys and because the cramping moved to my lower back and I couldn't sit anymore. So I stood.

  "Miss Hawthorne…" Thorn began.

  "Mrs. Holliard," I corrected and realized I was sweating as I held onto the chair and stood beside it. "Is it possible that you were not informed as to who my husband is?"

  Thorn was staring at me. So was Arden. "He's a detective with the New Orleans Police Department. No one of consequence. Though, he does have a Vampire partner."

  There were a few murmurs. A muttering here and there. I looked at Cosgrove. "You gonna tell him?"

  Cosgrove looked worried, which made me worried and made my heart rate sky rocket again. Lady Darksome…I did not feel good. It was like all the muscles in my body were on fire. It's so hot in here…

  "Will someone please tell me what's so special about Detective Holliard?"

  "He's a Dragon," Arden said, and I sort of sensed she liked being the bearer of that news.

  More murmurs, but everyone else in this room knew that. Didn't they? I fanned myself.

  "That's absurd." Thorn looked surprised and a bit skeptical.

  "He's a Titan," Cosgrove said. "I've seen his actual form. Many of us have. He's a Fire Elemental. The son of the God Mother."

  Arden pointed a finger at Thorn. "That's right, shugah." She smiled. "A real, fire-breathing Dragon. And he's bonded, and married, to Sam. So I would think twice before you go off doing something to… Sam…are you all right?"

  I sort of heard what she was saying, but the room had filled with this weird black haze and then there was a lot of noise before I just…let go. Fuck'em all if they didn't like my husband.