The Babet & Prosper Collection II: Beware the Bogeyman, Celt Secrets, The Trouble With Voodoo, and A Friend in Need (The Babet & Prosper Collections Book 2)

by Judith Post

  Babet fidgeted with her pinkie ring. Protection spells etched every inch of its surface. River City had a wide variety of magic and supernaturals walking its streets. Not many were strong enough to challenge Lillith. "That's not very much to go on. Where do we start?"

  "We need a plan. That's why I came to you." Hatchet looked at them expectantly.

  Prosper motioned for their waiter. "We have an emergency. We need three sandwiches to go. I know there's none on your menu, but surely, you can come up with something."

  The man nodded at Hatchet. "I'll do it for him. He arrested my cousin, scared the crap out of him, then let him loose with a warning. He's cleaned up his act and doesn't have a police record. I'm grateful. I'll be back in a minute."

  Prosper grinned at his partner, his killer dimples showing. "Glad you didn't keep him in the slammer, or we'd all leave here hungry." He took out his wallet. "I'm guessing you've already asked Lillith to check her phone ID, to find the number that Colleen answered."

  Hatchet nodded. "A pay phone. No lead."

  A short time later, the waiter hurried to their table, a large brown sack in his hand.

  "How much do we owe you?" Babet winced at the price, but Prosper handed him the amount, plus extra for a generous tip. He shook his head at her. "Fancy restaurants don't come cheap, and we don't treat ourselves often."

  True. They usually ate in. It wasn't that Babet had to watch her pennies, but she wasn't big on dressing up and tottering on high heels.

  Prosper rose and held the bag just out of her reach. "Follow the smell, and I'll let you eat in my car."

  Oooh, breaking the rules—now he was talking!

  She pulled on her black, leather jacket and stayed close behind him as they wove their way to the door. Hatchet brought up the rear. Prosper opened the car door for her and motioned her inside. His chocolate-brown eyes glittered with appreciation as she slid onto the seat, her short, red dress showing lots of leg. He'd fallen for her legs before he'd fallen for her. Her ass and breasts were a close second. And eventually, her personality had kicked in, but that had taken a while. She didn't mind. Their relationship had definitely been lust first, love eventually.

  Hatchet started toward his car. "I'll meet you at Lillith's."

  "No." Prosper shook his head. "Ride with us. We'll eat on the way."

  "You'll have to drive me back here when we're finished."

  "So?"

  With a begrudging nod, Hatchet hopped in the back seat.

  Prosper handed Babet the bag of food and rolled up his shirtsleeves. It was only forty-five degrees outside, but the man was always hot—literally. He made a great bed partner. Must be part of being a Were. He pulled out of his parking space and into traffic.

  Babet couldn't wait to see what smelled so good. Crab cakes on French bread with lots of aioli and shredded lettuce. She spread layers of napkins over Prosper's lap and handed him one.

  "Is Lillith expecting us?" Prosper took a huge bite.

  His partner nodded. "She gave us permission to do whatever we need to."

  Babet wiped sauce off her chin and watched people bustle in and out of two-story, brick hotels and restaurants that they passed. Diners crammed wrought-iron balconies, their railings decorated with greens and wreaths. Christmas lights twinkled in pine boughs. Upscale, tourist shops switched to novelty stores as they left the center of the city. A Santa played a trumpet on a street corner. Jazz cut through the Christmas music for a moment. An elf strummed a guitar a few blocks away in front of smaller, brightly painted storefronts. When they reached Magic Street, lights blazed in boutiques that advertised Tarot readings and voodoo supplies. Christmas trees decorated window displays. Outside one door, an alligator constructed of green bulbs bobbed its head, sporting a Santa hat strung from strands of red lights.

  Babet finished the last of her sandwich as they turned toward Lillith's lilac Victorian with its rose-colored trim.

  Prosper smiled. "My witch can't concentrate on an empty stomach."

  "Magic speeds up my metabolism," Babet countered. "And you should talk. Weres aren't light eaters either."

  "My bear spirit needs feeding." When Prosper shifted, he became the largest brown bear she'd ever seen—his fur the exact shade of his soft, brown hair. He made grizzlies look like puppies.

  Babet turned a curious gaze on Hatchet. What was he? Not completely human, she could tell by his scent. But he'd never bothered to inform anyone what the unknown scent divulged.

  "Okay, what now?" she asked. "How do we find Colleen?"

  "We start questioning anyone and everyone," Hatchet said. "We talk to the other girls about her clients, try to dig up stuff about her past, and we'll see where it all leads."

  Prosper parked in the lot behind the brothel, and the three of them made their way to the back door. A beautiful mulatto with long, brown curls and vivid green eyes, greeted them. Tiny fangs protruded past her full lips. She smiled. "Lillith said to make you comfortable in our private lounge. The girls will stop to see you between clients, if that works for you."

  "Fine with me," Prosper said.

  The girl led them down a narrow hall to a small, turret room on the side of the house. She motioned them inside and winked at Hatchet. "Hang in there, Hatch. You'll find her."

  He gave a grim nod. "She'd better be all right when I do."

  She touched his arm before leaving them. "I've never seen Colleen this happy. You're good for her. I'll tell the girls you're here."

  Prosper stretched his legs, trying to get comfortable. The furniture was Victorian style with wooden frames and flowered fabrics. It didn't suit him. Hatchet sat on a velvet chair with delicate, carved legs. A wine-colored, fainting couch was across from him for the girls he interviewed.

  A few minutes later, a tiny, exquisite, Asian woman came to answer their questions. Her jet black hair shimmered to her waist. She wore a yellow kimono with a long slit up its side.

  Babet studied her closely. There was no hint of fangs.

  The woman noticed and smiled. "I'm a succubus, but I have a permit to exchange certain pleasures for a small sip of each client's life energy. I never drain anyone."

  While vampires craved blood, succubi fed on souls and energy. Babet's fingers returned her to ring. She was protected. She glanced at the ring she'd bespelled for Prosper. So was he. Hatchet had his own protection, but she had no idea what.

  Hatchet nodded. River City was a liberal municipality with rules that reflected the various paranormals who lived among its mortal residents. "This isn't about you, Mi. We need any information you know about Colleen. Are there any clients who haven't been happy with her lately? Anything personal that might have caused her disappearance?"

  Mi frowned. "Clients have asked her to leave here before, to live with them. They're not happy that she chose you over them."

  "We don't live together. I don't interfere with Colleen's work," Hatchet said. "We have an agreement."

  Mi narrowed her dark eyes, studying him. "And you don't mind sharing her with clients?"

  "I understand her appetites, how her profession helps her meet them. I have no right to make demands on her. We're too new."

  Babet bit her bottom lip. She and Prosper started out with casual couplings too. At the time, she had no desire to be in a relationship. Neither did he. But sometimes, Life surprises you. Prosper glanced in her direction, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

  Mi nodded. "You're handling your relationship better than some of Colleen's regulars. They're jealous of you. They feel threatened."

  Hatchet ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. "Could you give me some names? Something to follow up on?"

  Mi listed half a dozen, five of them men. If the woman surprised Hatchet, he didn't show it. Colleen was obviously very popular. Mi added, "Colleen only works with regular clients. She can pick and choose whom she sleeps with. Not like the rest of us. We're happy, just having enough business to keep us financially sound."

  Babe
t didn't say anything, but she happened to know that any girl who worked for Lillith was a lot more than financially sound. She was probably set for life…or lifetimes, as would apply here. Money wasn't the only allure of working for Lillith—the women traded sex for sips of blood and tastes of souls.

  They heard the same information from one girl after another who came in for interviews. Each girl said the same thing. Colleen was Lillith's best. She had her own, private clientele who were devoted to her. They guarded their time with her jealously. None of them were happy about Colleen's interest in Hatchet.

  The last girl, a bombshell with a thick, Brazilian accent and fangs, was the most honest. "If Colleen quit her job to be with you, Hatchet, it would open up a spot for one of us to take her place. Not one of us ever thought it would happen. Now, we can't help but wonder who Lillith would pick."

  When she left the room, Prosper shook his head. "It's not an inside job. Every girl here will get more customers if Colleen falls for you and decides to turn domestic. They'd wait to see if that happens before they'd risk doing something stupid and getting caught by Lillith."

  Babet had to agree, but Hatchet wasn't as sure.

  "What if they'd never considered taking Colleen's place before, but I made it seem like an option? Maybe they decided I'd always be a freebie, nothing else, and they wanted more."

  Prosper wasn't buying it. "No one with a brain breaks Lillith's rules. I'm voting on a client, one who felt threatened by you."

  "Then let's start checking them off," Hatchet said.

  They divvied up names, and each of them chose two to visit the next day.

  "If it's a customer, he doesn't want Colleen dead," Prosper said. "He just wants her for himself."

  That made Babet feel a little better. Hopefully, they wouldn't find a mound of ashes with a stake buried in them. There was hope that Colleen was alive and well.

  * * *

  The phone woke them early the next morning. Babet rolled over and punched the speaker button. "Who is it?"

  The tone of Hatchet's voice brought her and Prosper to wide awake. "No need to question clients. I'm on my way over. Have coffee waiting."

  The phone went dead, and Babet swung her legs over the side of the bed. The minute she'd peeled herself from spooning Prosper, the early morning chill made her shiver. She reached for her robe. No, the last time she'd met Hatchet alone, she'd been naked under a flirty, lightweight dressing gown. It made her feel vulnerable. This time, she tugged on jeans and a long tee.

  Prosper pulled on his jeans too, but padded to the kitchen, shirtless. Morgana slithered after them. She no longer slept, coiled, outside their bedroom door. The snake needed more heat than a drafty hallway, so they'd concocted a strange bedchamber for her—a huge, glassed-in box with a light bulb for heat—in the hallway's corner. Her boa adored it.

  Prosper had coffee ready and bread in the toaster when Hatchet pulled to the curb in front of their yellow bungalow. Babet opened the door and watched him clear her pocket-sized yard in three strides. They settled themselves around the tiny, kitchen table.

  Everything about Hatchet was tense—the set of his shoulders, his rigid posture, his jerky movements.

  "What's up?" Prosper asked.

  "My past has finally caught up with me," Hatchet told them. "Mandubrath took Colleen to challenge me."

  Babet stopped her coffee mug in mid-rise. "Mandubrath? What kind of a name is that?"

  Hatchet rose and unbuttoned his shirt. "I know you two will only tell necessary people, that my secret is safe, but you deserve to know what you're up against."

  Tattoos covered his torso, back, and shoulders. They moved—writhed and gyrated, as if alive. Babet stared, mesmerized.

  "I'm a Druid," he stated. "A trained citizen of the Otherworld. I use my knowledge for upholding laws and divination. Mandubrath took a splinter of Celts to the island of Anglesey. He wanted more power, more magic. He used human sacrifices instead of animals until we drove them away. We're sworn enemies, always have been."

  Dark magic. It had such an allure for some. Babet set her coffee mug on the table, no longer thirsty. Morgana came to coil around her ankle. "Druids. Everyone's heard of them, but I don't actually know much about your practices."

  "We never wrote them down. We store everything in our minds, don't trust it to paper."

  Prosper frowned. "What I do know is that your people lived a long time ago…and you're still here. How does that work?"

  "I still serve the Otherworld. I still uphold my beliefs."

  If anyone could cling to their religion and stay true to what he believed, Babet knew it would be Hatchet. "What gods do you worship?"

  "The Celts have no pantheon like the Greeks and Romans. We have hundreds of gods and goddesses, but only one true religion. We're descendants of Pluto, our patron god. And as mortals, we trace ourselves back to Noah."

  Babet rubbed her arms. A pretty serious line-up. "And Mandubrath?"

  "Same gods. Different interpretations." Hatchet pulled on his shirt and began to button it. The man's abs really did look like the old-fashioned washboards with their ridges. Prosper was solid and delineated, but Hatchet looked chiseled from granite.

  "Will he sacrifice Colleen?" Babet tried to state her fear without thinking about the words she'd spoken. It was too awful.

  "Unless I take her place." Hatchet steepled his fingers and stared at them. "He can't challenge me in a fair fight. My magic's stronger than his, but that's never bothered Mandubrath. He prefers the underhanded methods. I'll gladly let him bind me and spill my blood to save Colleen. That's not my worry. My worry is…" He hesitated.

  Babet finished the sentence for him. "…that he'll cheat and kill both of you."

  Hatchet nodded.

  Anger roiled off Prosper. "What do you want us to do?"

  "Stay out of this. I have to meet him alone, or he'll kill Colleen."

  "You've talked to him?" Prosper asked.

  Hatchet looked away, out the French doors that led to the back patio and the courtyard beyond it. "He magicked my car doors and left a dead raven on my front seat. He'd slit it open and removed its heart. A warning of what he'll do to Colleen if I don't take her place."

  "But you're here," Babet said. "You're telling us. Why?"

  "You have protection spells, protection objects. I need something that will keep Colleen safe, so that Mandubrath can't harm her."

  Babet bit her bottom lip. In a battle, she could chant a protective bubble around someone, but she had to be there, in person, to accomplish that. She looked at her ring. It warded off many evils, but it wouldn't protect a vampire bound by silver chains from a knife being plunged through her heart. She shook her head. "The only way I can help you is to go with you to your meeting place."

  "I won't risk his seeing you." Hatchet pushed to his feet. "I'll have to try to save her myself."

  "That sounds like a bigger risk to me." Prosper stood too, facing him.

  Hatchet started to the door.

  "Wait!" Babet cried. "When do you meet him? Let me look in my spell books. If I find something, I'll call you."

  "At sun set tonight. If I don't hear from you, I'll know you tried and couldn't find anything." He stalked to his unmarked car and drove away.

  "Damn. Shit. Damn!" Prosper slammed his fist against the door frame. "He's a cop. He knows better than to meet his enemy alone."

  "It's one thing to say that when it's a kidnapper you don't know with a victim you've never met. It's another thing when it's an old enemy and the woman you love."

  Prosper took a deep breath. "What do we do?"

  "We get help, lots of it, as much as we can find." Babet started to the bedroom to grab her shoes and jacket, but hesitated. "If Mandubrath sees us and something goes wrong, he'll kill Colleen, won't he?"

  "He's going to anyway."

  "But if we save Hatchet and lose Colleen?"

  "Hatchet will never forgive us."

  Babet rubbed her arms, tryi
ng to chase away her shivers. That was something she didn't even want to think about.

  * * *

  They decided to split up. Prosper would go to visit Lillith. Babet would talk to her mother and Hennie. Her mom was the head of River City's coven. Hennie knew more about herbs and potions than any witch should. Between the two of them, they might come up with an idea that would help Hatchet. After that, she and Prosper would drive to the voodoo settlement on the river and talk to Nadine.

  She didn't live far from Hennie and Mom's shop, so decided to walk. Parking places were few and far between this time of year. Tourists crammed shops to find unusual Christmas gifts and decorations—alligator tree ornaments, love potions, or voodoo earrings. Restaurants bustled, and people stood in line to buy hurricanes, poured in disposable, plastic glasses or puffy beignets from vendors. Hoofing it would be smarter.

  She pulled her dark, unruly hair into a high ponytail, threw on a minimum of makeup, and hit the streets. Temperatures, for people who lived here, were uncomfortable. For tourists, the fifty degrees felt mild.

  People jostled her on the sidewalks, all in a hurry to go from one place to the next. The smell of fried dough made her mouth water when she wasn't even hungry. Beignets were temptation sprinkled with powdered sugar. Magic Street was an elbow to elbow, joy fest. Christmas carols floated from shop speakers. Colored lights twinkled. If one more person stepped on her toes, she'd make someone's nose grow.

  When she finally reached her mother's street, she sighed with relief. Tourists didn't venture into real witch territory. Herbs and potions for true spells and chants were alien to them. The lingerie shop brought customers with its nighties, covered with moons and stars and corsets that unlaced with a single, magic word, but other than that, the street was filled with practitioners of magic, not those enticed by the idea.

  Babet inhaled the sharp scent of pine as she stepped through the door of Hennie's shop. Witches celebrated Yule this time of year, the birth of the Sun God. After the winter solstice, days would grow longer. The sun would light and warm the earth once more. A yule log crackled in the fireplace in the far room where her mother taught witches their basics—how to read spells and write chants, and arithmetic for mixing potions. A pine tree stood near the front counter, decorated with tiny wands, witches' hats, and hand-painted, glass familiars.