Apparently, Medusa had shed her usual flamboyant apparel for the reception. She wore a gothic-styled black dress decorated with subtle astrological symbols stitched in thin, silver thread, and a heavy silver necklace with matching earrings fashioned in a Celtic love knot pattern. Simple in its elegance, the outfit suited her perfectly.
In contrast, Cassie wore an emerald business suit, white blouse and sensible emerald flats. The skirt, just a few inches above the knee, didn’t show as much of her spectacular legs as Mick would have preferred, but this was, after all, a business function. Besides, if any of those horny old booksellers scoped out his fiancée’s legs, he’d be forced into suitably Neanderthal mode and plant a fist in one of their smirking faces. He doubted that would impress Medusa.
Cassie obviously sensed his growing nervousness. She took a half step in front of him and reached to embrace her mother, kissing the older witch on both cheeks. Then she turned to Mick.
“Mother, I want to officially introduce you to Mirek Sandor, known to his fans as M. S. Kazimer. Mick, my mother, Medusa Bishop.”
Mick grasped Medusa’s hand, barely keeping from pulling it back when contact with her fingers felt like he’d grabbed a joy buzzer. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bishop,” he ground out between clenched teeth, happy he didn’t yelp in pain or stumble through his acknowledgment. His palm vibrated like a live wire. Were all witches closet stand-up comedians and practical jokers?
“You’re not at all pleased to see me,” Medusa countered smoothly, releasing his hand. “You’re as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof.” She glanced over at Endora, “No offense, Dora.”
Mick hadn’t realized Endora had flanked him opposite Cassie. “None taken.”
“Mother—”
Black eyes that seemed to crackle with energy shifted focus. “Cassandra, dear, I’m merely sporting with your man. How will he fit into the family if he can’t take a joke?”
That comment answered his question. Knowing Cassie would jump to his defense if he let her, Mick seized Medusa’s hand, brought it to his lips and softly kissed her knuckles. “I think it only fair to warn you, Mrs. Bishop,” he said softly, raising his gaze to meet Medusa’s over their joined hands, “check your chair before sitting. I’m unmatched with a whoopie cushion.”
Medusa’s startled look gave way to a genuine smile. “Call me Medusa, Mick.”
“Why don’t we get a table and sit for a while?” Cassie suggested.
Mick sensed her relief that he’d easily countered her mother’s outrageous behavior, and his nervousness eased. “Good idea. I’ll get the drinks.”
He memorized everyone’s order and headed off to the bar. When he returned ten minutes later, Medusa, Cassie and Endora were seated at a round table near the buffet. The plush purple alligator with the green swamp hat sat on the table in front of Endora, Special Agent Robert Jamison next to her. Cassie and Medusa were opposite them. Curiously, no one else was within hearing distance. It didn’t take Mick long to guess why they had such amazing privacy, but he wasn’t going to dwell on his conclusion. Cassie had left a seat for him between her and her mother, and after delivering the drinks, Mick took it.
He’d barely settled when Medusa began speaking directly to him. All vestiges of outrageous behavior disappeared as she addressed both him and the table at large.
“Cassie has told me the real reason for this book tour,” she stated without preamble. “And I want you to know, Mick—and Agent Jamison—that I will do whatever is in my power to help. I can also call on dozens of local friends—many in the Craft, many Voodoo practitioners, and many psychics—to help if need be.”
Jamison shifted, looking uncomfortable. “I, uhm, appreciate your offer, Mrs. Bishop, but I’m not authorized to allow civilians to help in this operation.”
Medusa raised a razor-sharp brow. “The authors on this tour are all trained Federal agents?” She shot a glance at Cassie. “Odd. My daughter failed to mention her new career.”
“Point taken,” Jamison conceded. “But, with the exception of Mick, the authors are window dressing.”
“Be that as it may, they are involved. My daughter is involved. That prompts my motherly concerns. And my offer of help.”
Jamison flushed and obviously tried to avoid running his finger under his collar to loosen it. “With respect, ma’am, if civilians hung around, interfering with my agents, this operation would be impossible to run.”
“I understand your position, Agent Jamison,” Medusa said on a rather predatory-looking smile. “But you won’t even know we’re there unless we choose to reveal ourselves.”
“Take her word for it,” Cassie interjected, “Mom’s the real deal. What you saw in the Peabody lobby a couple nights ago is nothing to what she can do.” She hoped the pride she felt in her mother’s abilities shone in her eyes as she turned her look to Medusa. For once, Cassie’s heritage wasn’t something she felt uncomfortable acknowledging. That realization was incredibly liberating.
Mick gave Cassie’s hand a quick squeeze, telling her he understood the significance of her statement. If possible, her heart swelled with even more love for him. When he firmly told Jamison he wanted Medusa informed of the FBI’s plans, Cassie knew exactly how the Grinch felt following his Whoville reformation.
“I can’t do that,” Jamison protested, glaring at Mick, then at the three women at the table.
“My dear boy.” Medusa interjected just enough lofty pretense into her tone to draw the agent’s immediate attention. “Whether you choose to tell me or not is irrelevant. I’ll simply read your thoughts and learn your plans that way.”
The usually unflappable Jamison was on his feet. “That’s outrageous!” He glared at them. “You’re all crazy.”
“No,” Cassie interjected wryly, “that would be Uncle Mordecai. He was so obsessed with Eleanor Roosevelt that he transformed himself into a pair of her shoes in order to always be close to her. Unfortunately, FDR’s dog Falla chewed him to pieces.”
Robert Jamison looked like he’d been poleaxed, but Medusa and Endora beamed obvious approval at Cassie.
She took in their expressions and stated flatly, “Hey, I didn’t completely ignore our family history. Give me a break.”
Jamison looked toward heaven in an obvious appeal to a higher power then, on a sigh said, “All right, you win.” He glanced around at the other guests.
“Don’t worry,” Medusa said serenely. “No one except those sitting at this table can hear what’s discussed.”
Robert blinked, then looked back at Mick and the others. “Well, I . . .”
Medusa raised her brow again.
“All right,” With what sounded suspiciously like a harrumph, Jamison sat back down and leaned toward them. “This is our plan of attack . . .”
FIFTEEN MINUTES later, after Jamison had finished his debriefing and walked away on the pretext of having work to do, Mick met his future mother-in-law’s shrewd gaze and said, “Thank you, Medusa. You have no idea how much I appreciate your offer to help.”
The older witch gave him her best enigmatic smile. “Oh, I think I do.” She rose from the table and moved behind Mick to Cassie. “Darling, I really must be going. I’m supposed to meet Mandrake at midnight down in the Quarter. Some haunted history tour he wants to take.” She laughed. “As if I don’t know all the haunted places in this city.”
Cassie rose to kiss her mother; Mick stood also.
“Mick, I’ll do everything I can to help you catch this killer.” Medusa placed the index and middle fingers of her left hand on either side of her nose and stated solemnly, “Witch’s honor.”
While Endora stifled a giggle, Cassie admonished, “Mother—”
“It’s all right, Cass,” Mick interrupted. He gently grasped her elbow, never taking his eyes off Medusa. “I know that’s just televisio
n hokum. Your mother’s testing me a bit.”
Both of Medusa’s eyebrows rose, and her voice was filled with genuine respect when she said, “I think I like you, Mick.”
“Good, because I’m not going away. Not by choice, at any rate.”
“Well said, human. Tah, darlings.” With a wave of her hand, Medusa was gone.
Despite his resolve not to let anything he saw shock him, the witch’s theatrical exit rattled Mick. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he muttered under his breath. “Did anyone else see that?”
“If they did, they won’t remember it,” Cassie assured him. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and turned him toward the buffet. “Time to mix and mingle, oh New-York-Times-best-selling author.” She had to tug him to get him to move.
“Can you do that?”
Cassie shrugged. “I doubt it. I’m way out of practice, and Mom’s incredibly skilled. That’s a trick not many witches will even attempt.”
Mick was finding it hard to take his eyes off the spot where Medusa had been standing moments before. “She made it look like some movie special effect.”
“Like I said, she’s incredible. Don’t expect every witch you meet to have that ability. Only a few can pull it off.” She tugged harder. “Come on. I’m starving, and we have to do the PR thing here tonight, or they’ll kick us off the tour.”
“Fat chance of that happening, but where there’s life there’s hope.”
Cassie gave him a wry smile. “In case you didn’t notice, things just tilted heavily in the good guys’ favor here tonight.” She grabbed a plate and selected several warm appetizers. “Mom’s got some very heavy artillery at her disposal. Her contacts in New Orleans alone reads like a Witchcraft and Voodoo Hall of Fame lineup.”
“There’s only one witch I’m really interested in,” Mick murmured as he stepped up behind her. “And she’s eying the fried chicken even as we speak.”
“What can I say?” Cassie grabbed two drumsticks and set them on her plate. “You have amazingly good taste.”
“It would be hypocritical to deny it.”
Across the street, a cold-blooded killer sat plotting his final act, the piece de resistance of five years of destruction. At last having discovered the true purpose of this book tour, he had memorized the hotel’s layout, including which rooms housed each of the tour’s participants. It had taken amazingly little effort to find that information. As New Orleans was the last stop on this tour, he knew the trap would be set for him at the site of the last murder in Mortal Sin. The FBI had no idea just how final a stop this would prove to be. He laughed at the stupidity of the agents guarding his former idol from him. With their profilers and psychologists and mental illness dossiers, they thought they knew him. Thought they could predict his next move. Their efforts would be in vain, as his brilliance at misdirection would assure they looked in the wrong place. It would prove to be a fatal mistake for the greatest of them.
All was in readiness. All awaited the appropriate time, now only a scant few hours away. He would go over every detail one last time.
And then he would rest until the time came to kill again.
LEAVING THE LATEST tour function at a reasonably appropriate time, Cassie, Mick and Endora found a quiet corner of the bar to have a nightcap.
He picked at the label on his bottle of ale. “Endora, your being the bait for Jamison’s scheme makes me really uncomfortable.”
“Thanks for the concern, Mick,” Endora said coolly, “but I think I can handle myself.”
“You know that’s not the issue. I don’t want you in danger. Being right on the front line certainly isn’t a safe spot.”
Cassie placed a pacifying hand on Mick’s shoulder, then turned to her familiar. “I’ve got to agree with Mick on this one, Dora.”
Endora took a gulp of her Kahlua and cream then licked the moustache off her upper lip. But her usually saucy smirk was nowhere to be seen. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me this time, Boss. So don’t even try.”
Mick sensed Cassie’s tension even before her grip on his arm conveyed it.
“Dora—”
“Not negotiable, Cass.” Endora set her drink down with a dull thud, grabbed the purple ‘gator from the small table they sat around and tucked it under her arm. “This is an opportunity I’d be a fool to pass up.”
“But, Dora, what if—”
“Don’t!” Endora was on her feet and backing away. “Just don’t say anything. Not a word.” Her raised hand stopped Cassie’s argument before it left her lips. “If you say something, I’m going to second-guess myself, and I can’t afford to do that. You know I have no choice.”
She turned and fled.
“What in hell was that all about?”
Cassie’s sigh was pure melancholy. “Atonement.”
“Atonement for what?”
Cassie leaned her head on Mick’s shoulder, still watching the door Endora had practically flown through. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Are you kidding? I’m Catholic. We wrote the book on atonement.” Cassie’s slight chuckle encouraged him. “I don’t want to pry, but this sounds like a really big deal for her.”
“It is.” Cassie straightened from her comfortable position on Mick’s shoulder and motioned to their server. “Check, please.” As the server headed to the bar, Cassie faced Mick. “It’s Endora’s story to tell, but I can give you a sketch. She must make reparation for a very serious past indiscretion. Apparently, she feels helping in Jamison’s sting will count toward her debt.” She shrugged. “I assumed being the bait appealed to her sense of irony. And that maybe in part she wanted a payback for the killer’s hurting her so badly in St. Louis. I’d never heard her say she was thinking in another direction until just now.”
Mick’s gaze sharpened. “The killer attacked her in St. Louis?” When Cassie nodded, an expression of understanding lit his face. “That whole incident in the lobby, when I could have sworn I lost fifteen minutes.”
Another nod. “I’ll fill you in on all the details some other time. Suffice it to say that, when I told you Endora wasn’t feeling well, it was the result of the killer hurling her against a wall while she was in feline form.”
“My God. It’s a good thing you were close by.”
“Even then, I almost lost her.” Cassie felt her throat tightening. Tears stung her eyes.
Immediately, Mick’s arm was around her shoulders, and he was hugging her close. “She’s all right, baby,” he soothed. He held her for a moment. “Is she in a lot of trouble for this old indiscretion?”
Cassie smiled as she pulled from his embrace. “Telling you any more would betray her confidence. You’ll have to ask her, as it’s not my place to say.”
“It’s the old ‘I can tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’ deal, right?”
“Something like that.”
Mick nodded. “I can respect your loyalty to her. She’s a good friend. Tell her I hope things work out.”
“You should tell her yourself. She values your opinion, just in case you didn’t know that.” Cassie signed the drink bill and handed it back to the server. Then turned to Mick and whispered seductively, “Let’s get out of these stifling clothes and into nothing but silk sheets.”
He smiled. “If this is how you distract me from the fact you just picked up the tab, it’s working.”
“Good.”
MILES AWAY, A small motel near the Fontainebleau State Park on the northern shore of Lake Pontchartrain experienced an unusual lack of vacancies and an even more unusual level of activity for a late March night. Ten vehicles, ranging from sedans to huge delivery-style trucks, filled the parking lot. Fifty people buzzed around the vehicles and the strip of fifteen guest rooms.
Endora fretted while an FBI technician showed her
how to attach a surveillance wire to her chest. She and Jamison had agreed that her psychic abilities would not be revealed to the rest of the team, making the ritual of wearing a wire necessary to maintain the ruse.
“Glad I’m not built like Dolly Parton,” she cracked. “The metal from her underwire would likely cause amazing static.”
“Actually, just the opposite,” the technician said placidly. “It’s more like using twin broadcast towers.”
Endora gaped at the woman who had just finished securing Endora’s mic and was checking the pickup volume. “Dolly goes undercover? As what, a Dolly Parton impersonator?”
The technician laughed. “I was joking.”
“Somehow, that knowledge disappoints me,” Endora replied. “Knowing Dolly, she could pull something like that off, and I’d certainly pay good money to see her try.”
“Believe me, so would every man on this team.” The tech grinned wickedly. “And they’d all volunteer to put the wire on her, too.”
Endora snorted. “I’ll bet.”
She was just pulling on her jacket when Jamison entered the small guest room. More somber than she’d ever seen him, he unconsciously fidgeted with his tie. It amused her that he didn’t seem to be able to meet her eyes.
Finally, his gaze zeroed in on hers, intense. “Ready?”
Endora gave him her patented bland, feline stare. “Yes.”
“You sure you want to go through with this—” That tie fidget again.
She waved away his concerns, but her tone was deadly serious when she said, “Look, Jamison, this bastard is scum and deserves to go down. He nearly killed me, threatens my boss and the man she loves, and has murdered innocent people. I’d kill him myself if it wouldn’t result in countless uncomfortable questions. The good guys need a win here.” I need a win here. Big time. “So don’t give me that ‘In the event you are unable to perform your duties, the First Runner Up will take your place’ crap. I’m not buying.”
Some Practical Magic Page 20