“MANDRAKE, DARLING, I’m afraid I must bow out of our shopping excursion,” Medusa said as she handed Cassie all the tissue in her large, multicolored leather reticule. “I’ll meet you at the voodoo temple at nine tonight.”
Relief flooded Mandrake’s face. Obviously uncomfortable in the presence of female tears, he awkwardly patted Cassie’s arm. “Um, nice to meet you, Cassandra.”
Cassie lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder, sniffed once, and said, “My pleasure, I’m sure.”
As they watched Mandrake hurry off, Medusa slipped her arm around Cassie’s waist and gave her a quick squeeze. “We need to have a mother-daughter talk, don’t we?”
“Big time.”
“Then come along, darling. I have the perfect spot for a little tête-e-tête.”
She led Cassie off, bound for Bourbon Street. Neither woman spoke as Medusa steered Cassie to the Old Absinthe House and into a back booth in the bar. She sat down across from her daughter and beckoned their server.
“Two house frappes.” When Cassie barely mustered enough interest to ask what that was, Medusa said casually, “The drink of the gods. I remember when Cayetano Ferrer created the Old Absinthe House Frappe. Put this place on the map. He claimed I inspired his creation.”
Cassie raised her head out of her hands and stared at her mother. “You must have been pretty close.” When she saw Medusa smile and blush at the same time, Cassie gaped. “Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.”
Just like practically every child in the world, Cassie refused to imagine her mother with a social life. Especially one that involved sex. “I didn’t realize you were, uh, dating. Thought you gave up on that after Dad.”
“Heavens, child, Cayetano and I were an item long before I ever met your father.” She adjusted her colorful turban and said, “Back in seventy-three, we were quite the thing.”
Cassie did some quick math. “You’re talking eighteen seventy-three?”
“Of course.”
“You were, what, seventeen?” Medusa nodded, and Cassie took the time to really look at her mother. The elder witch had black-brown hair, just like Cassie’s, though Medusa’s featured a sprinkling of gray at the temples. Her skin was flawless, and her twinkling eyes jet black. If I look that good when I’m a hundred and forty-seven, Cassie thought, I’ll thank the Goddess every day. She gave herself a mental shake. This wasn’t the time for vanity. “So, tell me about the Big Easy in eighteen seventy-three.”
Medusa’s expression turned wistful for a moment, then brightened. “Such a wonderful time. New Orleans was as amazing then as it is now. More so. Calling cards and summers at the sea. Elegance. Gentility. No automobiles, fax machines or computers . . .” She closed her eyes on a sigh of remembrance. They were misty when she opened them a moment later. “Cayetano created the frappe the next year. It became an instant hit . . . and we drifted apart.”
Something in Medusa’s tone had Cassie asking, “Why’d that happen?”
“Fame, I suppose. Notoriety. Creating that drink made Cayetano the toast of the city.”
“No pun intended.”
“None at all.” Medusa smiled at the memory. “He was a brilliant mixologist, and the frappe proved it to all and sundry. Being a celebrity suited him. He loved the soirees and the night life. Invitations to the races, entree to the men’s clubs, associating with the very rich. As his fame escalated, we grew more distant.”
What her mother wasn’t saying seemed far more important than what she said. Cassie mulled it over. When it came, realization knocked her breath away like a punch to the gut. “He was human.”
For once, Medusa didn’t equivocate. “Yes.”
A mixture of dread and curiosity filled Cassie. But she had to ask. “Did he know about you? About what you are?” At her mother’s expression, regret assaulted her. But it was too late to take the question back. “You don’t have answer if you don’t want to, Mom. Really.”
“Actually,” Medusa sighed, “we should have discussed this a long time ago. But, honestly, I didn’t wish to relive all the old hurts. Bury the past and leave it has always been my philosophy.”
“So . . . did Cayetano—”
“No. I never told him.” Medusa’s eyes brightened with unshed tears. “I feared his rejection.”
Reaching across the table, Cassie grasped her mother’s hand. “Even in New Orleans? This city’s more open to the other side than any I’ve ever seen.”
Medusa concentrated on their entwined fingers as she explained. “Back then, the attitude toward our kind was far different from today. The Victorian Age and all that. The idea of witches, or anything supernatural, terrified most humans. Oh, there were cults who sought knowledge in alchemy, necromancy and such, but they were very much out of sight. Now, people are openly fascinated with such things, although I frankly don’t see the attraction to all that dark occult nonsense. Modern Wiccans are working to change people’s attitudes, too . . .” Her voice trailed off as her eyes again filled with tears.
“You loved him, didn’t you?”
Medusa merely nodded as the tears broke loose and streamed down her face. Cassie’s heart hitched. Not only had she made her mother cry, but she’d used up all of Medusa’s tissues during her own crying jag. Surreptitiously, she snapped her fingers under the table and produced a travel pack. Without a word, she handed them over, smiling when her mother gratefully accepted her offering.
“This certainly explains your attitude toward humans. And why you’ve pushed so many eligible male witches at me.”
Medusa nodded then daubed at her eyes with a tissue.
Hoping to make her mother angry instead of sad, Cassie asked, “Did you take Dad on the rebound?”
“No.” Medusa’s tears stopped, and her black eyes glittered fiercely. “I was over Cayetano when I met your father, no longer fascinated by human males. Draco and I fell in love. He was one of my kind, and we got along famously for many years.” She shook her head, melancholy evident in her expression. “But you never forget your first love.” Squeezing Cassie’s hand, she laughed self-consciously. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to rehash my life. I meant to help you with your troubles.” She looked around the bar. “But I just love this place—it makes me feel close to Cayetano—and I thought perhaps you’d enjoy the ambiance enough to tell me what’s wrong.”
Cassie swallowed back her own tears before she smiled wryly at Medusa. “It seems the attraction to human males runs in the family.”
She poured out her heart to Medusa, editing only the intimate details of her relationship with Mick from the telling of the book tour’s serpentine events. When she finished, Medusa sat back in the booth and leveled a compassionate look at her.
“If he hurts you, I’m going to give him a temporary but vastly unpleasant and inconvenient rash.”
Cassie caught herself before her jaw dropped. “You’re not going to try to convince me things can never work out between us?”
“They might not.” Medusa seized both of Cassie’s hands. “But you must follow your heart. I’m your mother. Your happiness is paramount to me. You talk about Mick and your entire face lights up. That kind of feeling is worth fighting for.” She released Cassie’s hands and passed her a tissue. “If he loves you, he’ll accept you for what you are.”
“And if he doesn’t, I’ll be the second one in the family to have my heart broken by a human male.”
Medusa’s grin was equal parts wry and wicked. “Bastards. We might have to turn them all into eunuchs.”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be up for something like that.”
“Neither would they when we got through with them.”
“Mother!”
Medusa laughed as she signaled for the check. “Don’t ever underestimate an old person, darling.”
&nb
sp; Medusa paid for the drinks, and they moved out onto Bourbon.
“I want you to go to the Bottom of the Cup Tearoom and have a reading.”
That brought Cassie up short. “Why?”
“Because their reputation is spotless. Some of their psychics have worked there for over twenty-five years.”
“Do you really think I need a reading?” Cassie’s breath caught. “What if I find out my relationship with Mick is doomed?”
Medusa laughed. “Don’t be silly, dear. I would have sensed if you and Mick wouldn’t succeed together. But it won’t be an easy road. You need to determine which forces are harmonious and which in opposition between you two. Knowing that, you can plan how to counteract the negative.”
“Oh.” Cassie felt her whole body momentarily sag. Then she straightened and glanced over at her mother as they walked side-by-side. “That likely won’t help me. I just started studying the art again recently, and I’m incredibly rusty. Most likely a reading would be useless to me.”
Medusa stopped walking, squared up to her daughter, and planted her fists on her ample hips. “You wouldn’t consider asking me for help with this?”
“Well, given your history with humans, and all, I wasn’t sure—”
“I would do anything for you, Cassandra. Just because we don’t agree on every issue, doesn’t mean I’m not there for you at all times. Now, go to the Bottom of the Cup. Get the reading, and I’ll help you interpret it. Then we can make plans to correct the bad auras.”
Impulsively, Cassie hugged Medusa. “I love you, Mom.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“BAD NEWS, HUMAN. Cassie’s in the Quarter, and she’s not alone.”
Mick and Endora stood in the living area of Cassie’s suite. Endora, holding one of Cassie’s necklaces, had her eyes closed in concentration.
“Who’s she with?”
“Shhh.” Endora’s eyes popped open, and she leveled her gaze at Mick. “Her mother.”
“And this is bad news because . . .”
“Because Medusa’s a very powerful witch, and she’s not real keen on humans. Especially male humans who might have designs on her daughter.” She placed the necklace on the wet bar and turned to him. “Let’s hope she’s not in ‘protect her child’ mode. If she is, you could be toast in nothing flat.”
“That’s encouraging.”
Endora patted his arm. “If it’s any consolation, Cassie will run interference for you.”
“And what if Cassie’s not in the mood to protect me?”
“Then, I’ll hope for whole wheat. I just love whole wheat toast with raspberry jam.”
Mick shook his head. “Hate to disappoint you, Slick, but it’ll be Slovak rye.”
“Probably burnt, too.”
“Probably.”
CASSIE FELT THE need to take the initiative with her problem, so she promised Medusa a full report on the reading, then left her at the corner of Bourbon and St. Peter. Since Royal was the next street over, she only had to walk a block down St. Peter. Bottom of the Cup was just around the corner.
The moment she entered the shop a spirit made its presence known in Cassie’s tingling skin and the raised hair at her nape.
A pleasant-looking young man standing behind the counter smiled. “F’sure you got the Sight, chere.” Cassie was certain her expression made him think her IQ had dropped precipitously the moment she’d entered the shop, because he added patiently, “Julie’s our res’dent haint, and usually don’t never mess wit da customers da minute dey walk in da door.”
Once she’d mentally translated this into language she understood, true curiosity prompted her to ask, “How did you know I felt a presence?”
“Dat look on yo face, chere. Like someone pesterin’ you, but ya too polite ta get yosef shut a him. Or in dis case, her.”
Based on her knowledge of the words pestering and polite, Cassie deduced that the clerk thought she wouldn’t be rude to someone who was bothering her. She immediately warmed to this fine judge of character. By now, the two customers at the counter were staring, and she felt herself flush. “Julie?”
“Dat’s our haint’s name.” The clerk gestured to the back of the tea room. “George Rodriguez gave us dat portrait of her. ‘Course, dat’s his interpetation a what he thinks she looked like. She died a couple hunnerd years ago.”
Cassie moved to study the painting up close. A young, beautiful woman of color wearing a fashionable gown of that bygone era stared back at her. Cassie’s awareness of her surroundings faded, and while the clerk launched into the tragic story of the mistress who died in a futile attempt to prove herself worthy to marry her lover, Cassie saw the story in her mind’s eye, heard Julie telling the tale herself. She sensed the aching cold of that long-ago December night, the feeling of chilled flesh as Julie perched naked on the roof, freezing to death before dawn came.
The vision faded, but Cassie still felt the spirit’s presence. And something else.
“She has a cat, doesn’t she?”
The clerk beamed. “Lordy, ya really are sensitive! Not many people pick up on da fact she got her cat wit her.”
“Just an affinity for that particular animal, I guess.” Cassie studied the schedule for readings. As luck would have it, the only spot available for the rest of the afternoon was in ten minutes. She signed up.
“A VERY DARK force hangs over your field right now.” The tarot reader, a woman who looked to be somewhere in her fifties, turned over more cards and studied them. “A man.” When she looked up at Cassie, her expression showed true concern. “You’ll need help in dealing with this man. His aura is dark. Purely evil.”
Cassie wavered between relief that the dark force wasn’t Mick and dread that the serial killer was. “Purely evil” described that monster completely. She signaled with a wordless nod for the reading to continue.
“You possess unique skills, special powers. But until recently you haven’t been interested in developing them. In fact, you’ve purposely ignored most of them.”
“Go on.”
Julie’s presence returned as Cassie listened to the reading. Her hair was riffled, and her right cheek tingled with energy. She felt a brushing against her right leg, as if Endora were greeting her in the time-honored feline way. Her hand was halfway down to scratch her greeter behind the ears when she remembered this particular feline didn’t require a human touch. She smiled wryly to herself and returned her attention to the tarot cards.
“Julie bothering ya, chere?”
“Not in the least.”
With a nod, the psychic looked down to her cards, arranged between Cassie and her. “There’s also emotional conflict on another level.” This time she smiled. “You’re in love, but worried your lover won’t accept you for what and who you are.”
Cassie almost didn’t catch her jaw before it dropped wide open. Then she managed a half-smile. “You’ve got that right.”
Once all the cards were arranged, the reader leaned back in her chair and leveled her faded blue eyes at Cassie. “Great danger is very close. Please don’t disregard this warning.”
“I won’t. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were frauds. Any suggestions?”
“Accept yourself for yourself. Let your love see you for who you are. If you can do that, then you’ll overcome the danger, and the troubles you now face in your relationship.”
Relief flooded Cassie. Problems still lay in wait, but Medusa had been right about how knowing what the problems were made them easier to face. She rose from her chair.
“Thanks for the advice.”
“My pleasure.”
Halfway out of the curtained-off reading area, Cassie turned back. “How did you know I’ve got certain . . . skills?”
The reader chuckle
d. “Chere, your aura looks like solar flares, you’ve got so much power.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you right.”
Cassie blinked, then smiled in understanding. Her question had been answered in the affirmative. “Thanks again.” On her way to the front of the shop she stopped at Julie’s portrait. “And thanks to you, too, Julie.” Instantly, she was wrapped in an embrace of pure energy which felt like a quick hug. Apparently, Bottom of the Cup’s resident haint was lending her support to Cassie’s quest.
She chose to walk back to the hotel, not from dread of facing Mick, but because she needed time to process her newfound knowledge. Being in the Quarter helped her do just that. Understanding dawned as to her family’s love of this city. It was completely unique, filled with paranormal power and totally at ease with that power. Like her relatives. Like Endora.
And so unlike herself.
Her mother had many friends in the Crescent City—fellow witches, voodoo practitioners, probably some zombies . . . Cassie laughed to herself at that silly notion. Although in this amazing place zombies might well exist. Many very real paranormal and supernatural beings dwelled here, enough to make life amazingly exciting. Medusa had actually known Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. Cassie was willing to bet several decades off her life that Marie knew how to party. Mardi Gras when she was alive would have been even crazier than it was at present.
She had to admit she’d intentionally avoided this city exactly because it was so steeped in the supernatural. Had she embraced her heritage, she would have reveled in the paranormal excesses here. She sighed mentally. Why had she allowed aversion to her true nature to keep her away? Exposure to so much cosmic energy still frightened her, but now as she came to grips with her true self, she understood the basis for her fears. She lacked confidence in her magickal abilities. She’d never trusted herself in channeling her powers. Understanding this lifted a huge burden. Knowing what caused her fears would allow her to master them.
And what of her mother’s confession? She’d loved a human! The thought was almost as staggering as Medusa’s accepting Cassie’s love for Mick. Relief lightened Cassie’s heart.
Some Practical Magic Page 18