by Shyla Colt
I listen afraid to break the spell. He doesn’t talk about his origins often.
“And what did you want to be then?” I ask as I place the drawing in my lap.
“Hmmm. I fancied myself an artist. I wrote god-awful poetry, drew, and painted. I did commission work and worked whatever odd jobs I could. I was lucky in my family situation. As the youngest, not much was expected as far as familial duties. It was known I had to make my own fortune.”
“And did you?”
“Not in the monetary since, but the experiences I acquired were worth more than gold. Most of them.” His face becomes closed off and he straightens his tie. I’ve yet to get his origin story. I’m starting to think it’s a bloody tail younger me wasn’t ready for. I yawn, breaking the silence.
“You’re tired.”
I nod. “I need to sleep.”He kisses my hand. “I’m going to check in with Marcellus. He’s been hunting our suspects relentlessly.”
“Tomorrow I’ll make more inquiries,” I promise.
“Be careful.” He kisses my forehead, and I burrow back into the sheets that smell like him, feeling safe as the dream becomes a distant memory. We have our problems, but I know he’d never intentionally hurt me. It’s a truth that floated to the surface when my guard was down and went to work on the steel walls I’d entombed myself in.
Chapter Nine
For those with a no paranormal inclination, The Black Cat is a swank nightclub off the beaten path. Placed on a swath of land in a rural location, the stone building looks more like a steakhouse with its black awning and valet parking. It was created to fly under the radar, rumored to be exclusive, and protected by bouncers who vetted everyone coming and going. You couldn’t get in without passing a test if you somehow managed to slip the avoidance wards and spells that covered the ten-mile stretch from the main road out to the location.
The energy enshrining the building is disconcerting. I’ve never thought twice about entering the establishment. It’s not a place for good little witches to go. Morally gray is too kind a description for the club that pedals to the darker side of magical life. I lick my lips. I’m due to meet Halcyon inside for drinks and conversation. I’m lucky she agreed to meet me. I’ll never get any real traction with my search if I don’t have an inside source I can trust.
I check my reflection in the mirror. My short hair is curled to perfection, my black lipstick is on point, and the sheer top with pointed sleeves and stitching that mimic batwings add a pop of interest to the black tank top I’m wearing underneath. Paired with black tights, this outfit is meant to help me blend in.
If only I can get myself together. The dark traces are like a vibration that play too low for most to hear. It makes me queasy and clouds my head. I ground myself, take a deep breath, and leave the haven of my car, slipping into the dark waters. Schooling my face to hide my internal struggle, I walk up the front stairs. The linebackers masquerading as bouncers in black pants and crisp white shirts with black ties look down on me.
“What’s the color of the day?” One holds up a black card. I see beyond the tiny rectangular paper card.
“Ruby Red.”
He nods and steps aside, opening the door with its ornate handle in the shape of a cat’s silhouette with a tail. Nodding my thanks, I slip inside. Seductive power slides along my barriers, seeking weakness, and tempting me with its siren’s song. I ignore it and scan the interior. Black cat silhouettes hang from black chandeliers, behind the bar, on tables, and walls. It’s got a witch charm. Lit in cool shades of blue, the atmosphere is meant to be relaxing. It’s anything but. Scanning the bar, I spot Halcyon.
“Never thought I’d see an Esçhete here.”
I turn to meet the gaze of a fair-haired woman with pale skin, and a hungry look in her almond-shaped hazel eyes.
“I’m here to meet a friend for drinks.” I gather my power around me, like a shield, ready to prove myself if need be.
“Interesting company you’re keeping these days.”
“You seem to know a lot about me for someone whose name I don’t even know.”
She throws her head back and delivers a deep husky laugh. Her bone straight hair cascades around her shoulders like a golden waterfall. Stunning doesn’t begin to describe her new look. “Oh, you are different. I think I like it.”
“My reputation seems to precede me.”
“Believe me, an Esçhete returning home and being seen in the presence of vampires is noticeable.”
“I wasn’t aware we’d gone back to the Dark Ages where we didn’t associate.”
“Put whatever name you like to your involvement with Lord Cortez. It doesn’t change the facts.”
“Hmm. Your first mistake was assuming I was trying to hide them. I’d stay and chat, but I don’t feel the need to answer a with someone so insignificant I don’t know her name.”
Her eyes widen. I flash a smile that’s more teeth than welcome and spin on my heel, giving her my back. Wolves don’t concern themselves with the business of sheep. I’ve never appreciated my family’s teaching so much. It’s like muscle memory, responding in the way I’ve been trained and groomed to since I was ten.
I slip onto the barstool beside Halcyon who turns her head and smiles. Tonight she’s wearing a round neck black lace sheath dress, and I’m impressed with the way she’s applied her makeup. Damn, her smoky eye is on point. I wonder if it’s magic or if she watches YouTube videos in her spare time.
“Welcome to the dark side.”
“I heard you had cookies.” I lean in and lower my voice. “Is this true?”
She snickers. “No, but we have alcohol.”
“Even better.”
“First round is on me.”
“Thank you.” I grab the menu, and we make small talk as I order.
“I’m happy to be hanging out with you, but I got the feeling this wasn’t a social call.”
I glance around. “Is there a place we can talk privately?”
“The booths all have silencing spells.”
“Genius,” I whisper, placing my pointer finger on my chin.
We grab our Witch’s Heart cocktails, a specialty of The Black Cat, and make our way to the black leather booths.
“So tell me what’s up,” she says as she settles in, attempting to adjust her far-too-short dress.
“I’m looking for witches who’ve been shopping around for a dark spell. Darker than the usual fare.”
“Why?”
I hum. “That I can’t tell you. It’s best if you’re left out of it.”
“Color me intrigued. I can’t say off the top of my head. But I can ask around discreetly in the places a person might go for things of those nature.” She furrows her brow. “With the approach of the equinox, anything planned would already be put into progress. That much energy would be the perfect conduit for an additional boost.”
I think back to the moon in my dreams. Maybe it was a deadline.
“Thank you. I’ll owe you one.”
“Why are you so cordial?” Hal tilts her head, her honey-colored hair brushing the top of her shoulder. “The rest of the families shun me.”
I frown. “I know what it’s like not to fit in those rigid boxes they create, and it’s not my place to judge. You may make questionable decisions, but you’re not that dark, Hal”
She wags her pointer finger, which is painted a lovely shade of blood-red, at me. “Not yet.”
My shoulder lifts in a careless shrug. “You know the risks. Me lecturing you about them would serve no purpose. Besides, we’re like family. We grew up together. History means something.”
“You might be just what this generation needs.” She smiles, her teeth gleaming white under the club’s lights. “There’s such a wide gap between us and them. They don’t understand how badly we need to modernize and branch out out
side of our tight knit circle. I think you get that. It takes a visionary willing to rub others the wrong way to bring about great change.”
“I appreciate your faith in my abilities.” I peer down at my purple drink and stir. “I’m not. I’m new and still learning. I’m sure I’m going to screw up, but I have the family’s best interest—”
“And that’s why you’re the right choice. We’re all whispering about it amongst ourselves. Speculating on the when and if you’ll be placed at the head of the family. Care to give me a spoiler alert.”
I snicker. “If I had anything concrete, I would. It might get really ugly with the way some of my kin want to sit on the throne.”
She clicks her tongue. “Because you want to isn’t a valid enough reason. Many of the younger generation have drifted away from the old ways and our families because of the archaic believes. I think they might come back for you if you campaigned hard enough for them. We both know there’s strength in numbers.”
“You think we need more numbers? Witches I mean.”
“I think our families have been ruling for a long time, and there are many who’d like to topple us. If we get lazy and complacent. That may happen.”
Nodding my head, I bite the inside of my inner lip. Definitely don’t want to ruin this lipstick! Damn bad habits. Gotta remember to stop biting my lips. “Noted.”
She’s right. The four families have dominated and ruled for a long time. There are plenty who’d like to take our spots here. Part of the council, we make up four of the thirteen spots that create a makeshift coven who keep the others in line when necessary. Important to have when big things happen, it’s more of a nuisance that requires meetings, balls, and other frivolous and expensive occasions during times of peace.
She hums. “I didn’t realize how much I missed this, spending time with my sister in the craft.”
“Call me whenever you’d like. I mean my schedule is insane right now, but I’ll make time.”
She gives me a genuine smile. We’re both taking risks. If our vampires go to war, we could easily end on opposite sides of the battle. She could be reprimanded for reaching out to me, and I could be snubbed for dealing with a shunned witch within the community. At the moment, none of it seems to matter. Until she gives me a reason, I refuse to shy away from reconnecting. I’m not ready to trust her, but I’m willing to give her a chance. I hope that reason to end our friendship doesn’t come at the end of a pointy blade buried in my back.
***
“I’m hating this place a lot less now that I no longer live here,” Sacha says.
I laugh. “You don’t say?” What was once her apartment will serve as our office for Witch for Hire, our makeshift paranormal investigation service. Founded by the four major families, it unties our hands and places us in a position to help those who need it regardless of politics. We’ve spent the past few days getting her ready for business. It’s been a welcome break from the court and the drama that comes with them.
Now, three desks fill the main room. Bookshelves—filled with herbs, gems, and grimoires—line the walls. A pullout couch, end tables, and a small fridge ensure we’ll be ready for whatever comes our way. We have a long way to go before it’s perfect, but I can see the vision coming to life.
I look at the two women, brave enough to embark on the new endeavor, and make the decision to bring them into the murder investigation. “I know we’re all exhausted, but we did good work here today. Go ahead and take off. You’ve earned it.”
“Living with you is like having the place to myself anyway,” Sacha says.
“That’s temporary.”
Fel peers up from the finishing touches she’s putting on her desk. “What’s temporary?”
“Her cohabitation with Mr. Cortez,” Sacha replies, rolling her r.
“Stop it,” I say.
“Oh my God. You’re living together now?” Fel whispers. Her eyes sparkle with excitement.
I hold my hand out. “No. Well. Yes … It’s complicated.”
“Is half of your clothing there?” Sacha asks.
“Yes,” I mumble grudgingly.
“Are your things in his room?” Fel perches on the edge of my desk.
“No, I have my own.”
“Why? Perks of landing that undead hottie, all-access pass to his bed,” Sacha says.
I shake my head. “Things between us are complex. We’re working through them.” I don’t mention the fact that he makes me mocha coffee daily just the way I like It with hot chocolate, creamer, cocoa, and marshmallows. I try not to dwell on the fresh flowers he brings me for no reason along with other small trinkets.
“I wish you could see your face right now,” Fel says.
My brow furrows in confusion. Keep this up, you’ll have frown wrinkles in now time. I’m sure Mr. Undead will love that. “What? Why?”
“Because it’s not the face of a woman who’s confused about her feelings.” Sacha pats my shoulders.
“I know this seems romantic, but me being there is safety and appearance issue. We’ve got visitors in from another territory we need to play house to reassure.”
“The line between reality can blur quickly,” Fel says in a singsong voice.
I groan. “You witches are awful.”
“I think the word she was looking for was honest,” Sacha replies.
“More like impossible,” I retort. Suddenly, my pocket vibrates, and I pull my phone out of my jeans. “Hello?”
“Hey, Lou. Remember that question you had for me that I needed to research?” Hal asks.
I sit up straight. “Yes, I do.”
“I might have a potential lead.”
I quickly grab the yellow-lined notepad and my favorite Montblanc pen off of my desk. “Tell me what you got.”
“An address. A Voodoo shop with a special set of ingredients they keep in the back. Apparently, some noticeable orders have been purchased there. I can’t say if they’ll talk to you, but you may be able to bargain for information or glean some.”
“What were the ingredients?” I ask.
“Hellebore, Hemlock, African Ginger, and Henbane to name a few.”
“Potent.” It would have to be to control a vampire and cast such a good glamour spell and erase their tracks. Hiding what you’re doing in real time is not an easy thing to do. It’s the most powerful kind of glamour, one that changes the environment. Even then they’d need the sire’s help. Their loyalty would be to the one who created them first and foremost unless that bond was interrupted, or the master compelled them to obey the witch.
“Very.”
“Can you give me the address?”
“I can, but you won’t like it.”
“Why?” I already know I’m going to hate the answer.
“’Cause it’s down in Witching Swamp.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I mumble. Tainted by blood spilled, spells intent on harm, and oppression, the portion of the bayou had become a twisted version of the lush green waterways the state is known for.
“If you go, don’t go alone.”
Her caution gives me pause. Is she concerned or sending me into a trap?
“I’m pretty sure I can handle it.”
“Famous last words. Look, Lou. I’m the one who gave you this information, and I don’t want your blood on my hands.”
“I got it. I won’t go in alone.”
“Good. Be sure you don’t bargain with things you aren’t willing to give. I’ve got to go.” Silence greets me before I can say anything else.
“What was that?” Sacha asks when I put my phone down. Her expression is a mixture of confusion and concern.
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly.
“You want company?” Fel asks, moving closer and placing her hand on my arm.
I glance down at
her pink-painted fingernails, and up to meet her gaze. “Yeah, I do. I need you to be a buffer. I don’t want anyone knowing what I’m actually looking into.”
“That should be easy enough to do seeing as we’re both clueless.” Sacha rolls her blue-gray eyes.
“We’re headed to the Witching Swamp.”
Fel whistles. “Whatever you’re after it must be damned important for you to trek your ass through that cesspool.”
“You’ve no idea.” I stand. “Get ready, girls, Witch for Hire is on their first assignment.”
***
The mood is somber as we navigate the deserted waterways in our small boat. The sound of the motor and the swoosh of water as we slice through the onyx surface is loud against the silence. It’s impossible not to feel the wrongness. There are no signs of gators, buzzing mosquitos, or croaking frogs. The Witching area is devoid of life. The trees are dead or dying, twisted by the lack of nutrients and the dark magic that’s tainted the entire area bit by bit.
I’m chilled regardless of the bright sunlight beaming down on us. There’s an invisible barrier around this swath of land that’s formed over time. An area can go bad with enough bloodshed, ill intent, and paranormal activity. Things are drawn here now. I peer down at the water and freeze. Shadows skim across the surface; waterlogged spectrals, I suspect, spy for a master.
“You see that, right?” Sacha asks, and I hear a slight quaver to her voice.
“Yep. Wish I didn’t though,” I mumble.
“I’m starting to think Fel is the lucky one.” Sacha nods her head toward Fel, who has been charged with steering. Focused on guiding us through the water, she’s oblivious to anything else.
“I call dibs on steering on the way back.”
“I’ll rock paper scissors you for it,” Sacha counters.
“Deal.”
This is a mockery of the lushness my state has to offer. I rub my forearms to ward off the chill, and will us to go faster. I’m ready to have this place in my rearview. We reach a dock, tie off the boat, and climb up. The pressure intensifies as the power pushes in on us.
“It’s how they weed the weak from the strong,” Sacha says.