“You should stay in bed,” Bryn said with a stern look.
“I’m feeling much better. And this is what happens when everybody in the house is sick or injured. Be glad you’re not Dr. Suri. Imagine what he’s got to deal with all day long. Doc Barnaby’s hammertoes and Mrs. Schnitzer’s lumbago and—”
“Okay,” Bryn said, holding out a hand to stop me from listing the rest of Dr. Suri’s patients.
I giggled, then strolled out of the guest room. I fed Mercutio and filled him in on my circus act from the voodoo curse. Then I went to check on Mr. Jenson. I found him settled on the living room couch under a blanket.
“Hi, Mr. Jenson. You feeling better?”
“Much better, my dear. How are you?”
“Right as rain and ready to rescue. My friend’s gone missing,” I added, checking my phone. No calls from Vangie. “Have you seen Bryn?”
“I believe he’s gone outside to do a power spell.”
“That’s a great idea. They don’t call Bryn a genius for nothing, do they?”
“They certainly don’t,” he agreed.
“You take care,” I said.
“That should be my line to you, Miss Tamara.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said, blowing him a kiss. I went outside and found Bryn standing on the lawn, wearing a thick knit turtleneck sweater over jeans. He’d laid his wool topcoat over a chair and I lifted it, inhaling its faint scent of Bryn and magic. I carried it to him and reached out. A warning crackle reminded me just in time that I wasn’t allowed to touch him with the protection spell in place. I grimaced.
“You know, I’m not too keen on this spell. You’re all magicked up and I want a kiss.”
Bryn ran a hand through his black hair and smiled. “Rain check?”
I nodded.
He fell into step with me while Mercutio circled the area where Bryn had been casting spells. Merc’s got a taste for magic that often comes in handy.
Bryn paused in the kitchen at the sound of Mr. Jenson coughing. I slowed, relieved when it got quiet again after a couple of inhaler puffs.
“He’s okay,” I said, but Bryn didn’t move. “Are you okay?” I asked him.
“I want your opinion on something.”
My chest warmed. Bryn wanted my advice? That was new, and better than Ghirardelli white chocolate baking chips. “All right,” I said, leaning toward him for a smooch. My lips got a little jolt and I jumped. I stomped my foot and clenched my fists. “I hate this spell. Take it off.”
“Tamara,” he said, shaking his head. “I nearly broke my ankle dropping from the balcony so I could get to you.” His wry smile faded. “By the time I got to the river, you were almost to the falls, your body limp and facedown . . .” Bryn became utterly still, his voice low and grim, like he could see it all unfolding again. “There was only a halo of red hair floating on the water. I thought you might already be dead and I felt . . .” After a few moments of silence, he shook his head and whispered, “Keep the spell a little longer, sweetheart.”
I exhaled, blinking. I knew from experience that it’s easier to be the one dying than the one watching the person you love die. “Well, if you’re going to put it like that,” I said with mock exasperation, “I guess I’ll keep the dumb spell on. Now what did you want to talk about?” I scooped a handful of Hershey’s kisses from a Saturn-shaped cookie jar I’d bought him.
“I’m not sure what to do about Jenson,” Bryn said as we walked across the kitchen.
“What do you mean, what to do about him? He’s on the mend.”
“I know, but he’s not young. This illness has taken its toll.”
“He’ll recover,” I said firmly. That had to be true.
“He told me he wanted to go to Ireland.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, pausing in the hall. He stopped, too.
“His wife’s buried there, which is what she wanted, but he’s mentioned that it’s hard not being able to visit her grave. I bought the land near the cemetery and had a cottage built for when he retires.” Bryn glanced at the window, as if he could see clear across the ocean if he looked hard enough. “He should have retired long ago.” Bryn folded his hands, rubbing the tip of one thumb over the base of the other. “Whenever he’s said that I might be better off with someone younger, I’ve said the change would be a disruption to the running of the house and claimed I didn’t have time for it. I thought he was trying to make it easy on me, to give me the option of replacing him. But now I wonder if he’s tired and actually wants me to let him go. Maybe I’ve been selfish to keep him in Texas this long.”
“Besides his wife, what people does he have in Ireland? Any kids or grandkids?”
“No, he has a niece and her family and some cousins in England. They send him Christmas cards. He mails them holiday gifts.”
“Anybody you think he cares about more than you?”
Bryn shrugged. “They are his blood, and he’s always said he wants to be buried in Ireland with his wife.”
I leaned forward. “Being buried in a place and living there all alone waiting to die are two different things. I happen to know that the reason he was talking about going to Ireland right now was to give you a job, to take your mind off me and our problems.”
“What problems?”
“The business with Zach.”
“How did Jenson know about that? I didn’t say anything to him.”
“I’m sure he’s got his ways of finding stuff out,” I said.
Bryn nodded. “So what do you think? Would suggesting that it’s time for him to retire be something he’d welcome? Or something that would hurt his feelings?”
“From what I can tell, you’re like his grandson. I can’t believe he’d be happier living in a cottage by himself. Maybe he’d get a lot of visitors over there and it would make up for missing you, but I doubt it. If it were me, I wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t get to see you, and we’ve only been together a few months. Mr. Jenson’s had a whole lifetime with you. I think the best thing would be to take him to England and Ireland for a visit. You can size up his relatives and see what he thinks of the cottage. Then just tell him you’d prefer he came back to Texas to be with us, but you’ll understand if he wants to stay there. See what he says.”
“Jenson’s of the old set. A butler doesn’t talk to his employer about his feelings. It would make him uncomfortable.”
I nodded. “Okay, I’ll take care of it for you.”
“You will? How?”
“I’ll start taking over a few tasks around the house to lighten his load, but I’ll ask for his advice a lot, so he knows I need him.”
“You don’t think he’ll catch on to what you’re doing?” Bryn asked.
“Sure he will. He’ll know exactly what I’m doing,” I said. “But he won’t mind. Southern ladies and English butlers are actually a lot alike in the way they handle people.”
Bryn smiled. “You think so?”
“Yep. I doubt he’ll call me on it, but if he does I’ll just tell him the truth. I never had a daddy or a granddaddy growing up, and I always wanted one. Mr. Jenson’s the closest thing I’ve got. I won’t give him up without a fight.”
“From you, that would probably work,” Bryn said, shaking his head in admiration.
“Yep. You’re welcome,” I said. “And here.” I dangled a Hershey’s chocolate by its tissue banner. “Here’s a kiss from me.”
He unwrapped it and dropped it on his tongue. After he chewed and swallowed, he said, “Thank you. That was exactly what I needed.”
24
MY NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR Jolene was behind the counter at the local drugstore when Bryn and I went inside. I loaded my arms up with the leftover summer inventory of size six-seven flip-flops. She sure gave me a funny look as I bought fifty-three dollars’ worth of rubber footwear.
“Honey, a pair of these should last you for a couple years. What in the world are you going to do with fifteen years’ worth of flip-flops?”
; “I like to have extra,” I said, taking off my expensive high heels and putting my feet in a pair of sparkle-patterned flip-flops with High Class printed on the straps.
“That’s a pretty dress you’re wearing,” she said, looking down at my flip-flop-clad feet. “Tammy Jo, honey, you know it’s forty-eight degrees outside, right?” she whispered with a glance at Bryn, who was looking at the newspapers. “Your man is going to think you’ve lost your mind. For goodness’ sake, put on some stockings and a pair of pumps.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” I said. “He already knows I’m crazy.” I scooped up my bag of flip-flops and sauntered out of the store. I wondered how long it would take for the whole town to hear that I wasn’t just off my rocker, I’d turned the thing over on itself.
Bryn, who normally cares about his reputation and town standing, just shrugged when I told him about my conversation with Jolene.
“These days, sweetheart, we’ve got to pick our battles. Gossip, no matter how malicious, won’t kill us, so it’s got to fall to the bottom of the priority list.”
“Right, foes before schmoes.”
Bryn laughed and was still laughing when he got in the car. Mercutio stood with his hind paws on my bag of flip-flops and his front paws on the dash, scanning for villains or small game. I leaned back, wishing I’d eaten more frosting, and rolled down the windows to see if the trees had anything interesting to whisper. I was disappointed by the silence. Not only weren’t they whispering, but there were no cricket chirps, no rustling of wind, nada. It was definitely too quiet.
Mercutio made a noise of apprehension.
“Yeah, I think so, too, Merc. Something’s not right.” My muscles tensed as I saw a flash of green streaking toward us. “Stop the car.”
“What’s up?” Bryn asked, slowing.
“Stop the car!”
He hit the brakes hard, and we jerked to a stop. I opened the door and hopped out as Edie stopped twenty feet from me like she’d hit a wall. Her essence was thin as a veil. When she spoke her voice was faint enough to make me hold my breath so the sound of my breathing wouldn’t get in the way of my hearing her.
“I recognize them, Tammy. It’s just like that night.”
“What night? What’s wrong?” I asked, hurrying toward her.
“I finally remember what happened . . .” She looked up at the sky and so did I, but there was nothing overhead. “On the night I died.”
I gasped and jerked my head to look at her.
She sagged. “Of all the nasty tricks—I can’t . . . I’ll come back,” she said with a feathery voice. In an instant, she faded away.
“Wait!” I called, and then spun frantically toward the car. “You didn’t do anything, did you? You didn’t send her away?”
“No,” Bryn said. “I didn’t even feel her presence.”
“Something’s happened,” I said, rattled. “She said she saw them the night she died. Who can she have meant? Maybe Vangie’s family look like their kin? Or maybe something Oatha’s doing reminded her of whoever killed her?” I slapped the car in frustration. “If they did anything to hurt her or drain her away, I’ll make them sorry.”
“Hasn’t she gotten worn out from manifesting for too long before?”
“Yes.”
“She may just need time.”
“I know that,” I said, and pursed my lips. “But I’m worried.”
“She has the locket for protection. And ultimately, she is already dead, so there’s not much that can be done to her.”
I eyed him. “Given that some thought, have you?”
He held out his hands. “I’m just making an observation.”
I dropped into the passenger seat. “Let’s go,” I said when Mercutio and Bryn were inside and the doors were closed. “Take me to the Therouxs.” I glanced out the windows, scanning the road and the woods. “The spell that’s hurting the town ghosts, what if it’s powerful enough to get through the locket?” I bit my lip. “I have to find out what’s going on.”
Bryn didn’t respond, which frustrated me.
“Don’t you have anything to say? Something’s wrong. Can’t you hear how quiet it is?”
He gave me a sidelong glance. “It’s always quiet at night. This is a small town.”
“Yeah, but not like this. Usually I hear the trees and the wind, the brooks and rivers, insects and bats, even the ghosts. They all make small noises that I can hear and that Mercutio can hear. I bet if I asked Crux, he’d confirm it. Something is choking nature’s voice into silence.”
“Who’s Crux?”
“He’s a faery.”
“What faery? Where did you see him?”
“In the woods. He’s either hunting me or trying to help me. I’m not sure which. But he isn’t doing this. No fae would ever do this,” I said, extending a hand toward the windshield and the darkness beyond.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him before now?”
“We were busy. That’s the thing I was going to tell you later.”
“It’s later. And as a point of information, I’m never too busy to hear about a member of the fae who might be hunting you.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Tell me anyway.”
I chewed my thumbnail and looked in the rearview mirror. What had Edie seen that reminded her of the night she died?
I filled Bryn in on my meeting with Crux. Bryn bristled with anger, making the seat vibrate with magic. As I finished talking, Mercutio yowled and bonked his head against the windshield.
Bryn hit the brakes, and we came to a sharp stop. I opened the door and Mercutio darted out into the woods. I started to follow him, but Bryn said my name and made me pause.
“That’s not the way to Oatha Theroux.” There was no question in his voice.
“Are you sure?” I asked, even though I knew he was.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
My hand hesitated over the door handle. “Mercutio’s tracking something.” I tipped my head, listening. “Could even be Crux.”
“Do you want to follow him or to go after the Cajuns?”
I wanted to find Vangie. I pulled the door closed. “Foes before fae,” I said in a tone that lacked any trace of cuteness.
Bryn didn’t laugh this time. Neither did I.
• • •
THERE WERE AREAS where the creeks had overflowed during the town’s massive flood that still hadn’t dried out. At the edge of this marshy area north of Old Town, the caravan of Vangie’s stepfamily had assembled.
I checked my weapons, pulled a borrowed sweatshirt over my head so I could take off my coat for better mobility, and climbed from the car. Bryn joined me, and we rounded the house. The people were apparently packing up to leave since truck tailgates were lowered and trailers were open and half full.
Was Vangie packed among the stuff? Or was she tied up in the house?
I gave Bryn a questioning look, and he nodded at a truck that was parked away from the others. I marched over and we waited. Beau’s cousin approached, carrying two suitcases. When he leaned to shove them inside, I came up behind. When he straightened, his head came into contact with the gun in my hand.
“Not a sound,” I said. “Where’s Vangie?”
“Who?”
“Evangeline Rhodes.”
“Oatha’s girl? How would I know? Haven’t seen her in two years.”
“Where’s Oatha?”
“She’s on her way back to her house in Dallas. Been havin’ fierce chest pains.” The look on his face said what he didn’t. He wanted revenge. They’d like to kill me and Bryn for retaliating against Oatha and them.
“When did Oatha leave?” I asked.
“Around an hour ago. We’re all clearing out of here. Two of our people had heart attacks today. We’re taking ’em home to be buried.”
I stiffened, knowing they hadn’t had regular heart attacks. “Where’s Beau?”
“He’s packing one of the trailers. You wanna
talk to him? Beau!” he hollered.
I thumped him on the head with the gun and he staggered. Bryn chopped him again and the man fell facedown. We heard footsteps running toward us, and we hurried around the house.
Shouts and heavy footfalls came from various directions. I realized it was likely going to be a repeat of the magic and gunfight of the night before. Bryn drew me into the house.
There were lit lanterns rather than electric lights burning. Bryn crossed the room and lifted an overturned box. On the floor was the Tammy Jo voodoo doll. So Oatha had left without it. If she’d actually left.
“Tamara, you should be able to touch it.”
I stalked over and picked her up. The doll was cold but hummed with the spell Bryn had put on her. “I don’t have pockets,” I complained. “This is the problem with dresses.” I tucked the doll inside the top of my dress, which was snug enough at the waist that she didn’t just slide down and fall out the bottom. “Okay, got her.”
Bryn walked around the room, whispering spells and touching surfaces. “There are traces of black magic, but I don’t find any of Evangeline’s here.”
“Could they have had her locked up and gagged? Maybe in a trunk or something? They wouldn’t have wanted her to be able to cast spells.”
“If there was a binding spell done, it wasn’t cast here.”
Beau and several of his family members burst in, shotguns raised. I pointed my gun at his head and moved so that I was behind a tattered couch with exposed springs.
“Chère, we meet again,” Beau said. His bruised and swollen face was in sharp contrast to the white wall behind him.
“Where’s Vangie?”
“I’ll take you to her. Just you and me. He stays here with the others.”
“Absolutely not,” Bryn said.
“You better do what I say, my friend,” Beau said to Bryn. “You’re outgunned.”
“Am I?” Bryn asked coolly, and I felt his power rise and contract in preparation, like a snake coiling to strike.
Outside, a tailgate slammed closed and a motor started.
I stalked to the window. “She could be in that truck,” I said. A busted-out window provided a big enough opening for me to climb through, but there were jagged shards of glass. I hit the biggest pieces with my gun, making them shatter and fall to the ground.
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