Hoodoo Woman (Roxie Mathis Book 3) (14 page)

The lights blinked out as the temperature plunged. Candles arrayed as decoration served as the only light. At least two dozen people made a beeline for the front door, but it refused to open. I didn’t care one bit for a ghost who took hostages. More screaming sounded as objects began to fly through the room. A vase hit a man in the midsection. An antique quilt seemingly lifted itself off its display frame and attempted to smother another man. I scanned the crowd for Mackie or any other members of the Parker family, finding none. But I did recognize the two men under attack. I’d seen their names connected to Britney in a Grapevine thread.

In the center of the great room was a good-sized heavy round oak table, laden with a huge garish floral centerpiece and several old pictures in ornate frames. As quickly as I could I moved a couple of the frames to the floor under the table, then unceremoniously shoved the centerpiece to the ground. I climbed atop the table, wobbling in the unfamiliar heels, opened my hand above my head and cast a disco ball sized blaze of red and gold light. There was a time when expending this much magical energy would have left me wobbling, but it took a lot more to do that now.

“Britney Parker. Show yourself to me!”

Feminine laughter echoed through the room. A dark smudge moved through the etheric space almost too fast to see, past me and honing in on someone trying to hide in the coat closet. The ghost dragged the woman out, pulling her to the ground and sending her into a screaming fit. She raised her arms to shield herself from invisible blows, pain in her desperate screams and the terrified scarlet of her aura.

I curled my hand in the air, drawing some of the red and gold light into a smaller ball. Then I flung the energy at the smudged shadow that was Britney, knocking her across the room to crash into the wall. Framed black and white photos crashed to the floor.

“I command you to leave this place, Britney Parker.”

Silently I summoned Stack, bidding him to get his incorporeal ass here with a quickness. Almost immediately the rich scent of cherry tobacco wafted next to me. The taste of smooth whiskey coated my throat and a slow rolling blues made my pulse jump. I said, “Get her out of here and y’all go play in the spirit plane traffic or something.”

“I like watching her tear shit up.”

“Cute. Now go and y’all go do whatever ghosts and, and, whatever you are do on dates. Just don’t hurt anyone. I bind you to my command, Stack. Do not engage in hurting anyone. Is that clear?”

“I am bound to your command, hoodoo woman.” For a moment the music got louder, possibly loud enough for the scared witnesses cowering against the walls to hear.

I called, “Leave this place, Britney Parker. You are an unwelcome spirit and you are commanded to leave.”

Britney showed herself, three feet in front of the door and hovering in midair. A golden glow of flowing hair framed her face, the beauty twisted out of it by rage. This time the screaming was accompanied by effusive prayer from several people. Her image flickered with static like an old television with poor signal. Her laughter, however, was unmistakable.

“I’m not through yet,” she shouted through Stack’s voice. “There will be a reckoning!”

I flung my free hand at the door, forcing it open with a push of will, then followed with my other hand sending the last of the red gold light straight at Britney. She went through the door without a fight. The smoke and music followed, leaving only the aftertaste of whiskey.

I lowered my arms, breathing heavily. The screaming stopped almost immediately. The loud praying took a little longer. Feeling eyes on me all around, I turned slowly to look. Sure enough, everyone in the place was staring right at me. The full impact of that sank in, heavy and sour. Fear dripped into my veins.

Ray appeared at the side of the table, looking up with his hand outstretched. His face was unreadable. I took his hand, lowering myself into a kneeling position. I was about to hop down when he picked me up, carrying me out of the great room through the staring, silent crowd. Daniel met us at a back door that opened onto the terrace. The SUV was parked on the side street, motor running and lights on. Ray placed me in the passenger seat. I slumped down. He touched my cheek, his eyes on mine as he said to Daniel, “Get her home. I’ll take care of this.”

He was gone before I could say anything. Daniel sped away, weaving in the narrow streets through traffic of panicked party-goers fleeing the scene. We were on the highway before I realized I was shaking badly.

Daniel must have seen it too. “Do you need me to pull over? You gonna be sick?”

I shook my head, words caught in my throat. I made a forward motion, hoping he understood I wanted to keep going. He put his hand on the back of my neck, the contact and the coolness of his touch soothing. Closing my eyes, I focused on a simple grounding exercise to settle my nerves and the last of the magic still buzzing in my blood.

By the time we reached the lake house I was calm enough to speak. “Do you think we need to pack up and leave?” He helped me out of the car and up the steps.

“People don’t burn witches anymore, Roxie. It’s gonna be fine.”

“They do in some places.” Okay, so maybe the shaking wasn’t entirely gone. I shivered in the thin dress. My dressy mid-calf length black trench coat was back at the museum.

“Not in Tennessee.” He guided me to the couch and wrapped a blanket around me. “The porch might be standing room only tomorrow, people trying to get you to come to their church and find Jesus.”

“I never understood that expression. Is Jesus lost? I asked in Sunday school once and Nadine slapped me when we got home. Said it was disrespectful. Blasphemous. I didn’t know what blasphemous was. When I asked she looked at me and said
you are
and walked away.”

Daniel said nothing for a long moment. “I’m gonna turn the heat up and make you some tea.”

Tears smeared my vision. I took off my glasses and attempted to wipe my eyes without ruining my makeup. It didn’t work. My eyes stung as the mascara aggravated them. “Guess I came out of the closet, huh, Bubba?” I tried to laugh but it came out weak.

He kissed the top of my head as he stood. “Why don’t you go change clothes and wash your face? I’ll have tea waiting for you when you come back.”

“Okay.” I slipped off my shoes before standing, not trusting myself to be able to walk in the heels. I made it to my bedroom, closing the door and sagging against it. In seconds I was on my knees, struggling not to vomit. About to lose the fight, I scrambled up and to the bathroom, losing everything I’d eaten possibly ever. Thankfully in the toilet and not all over the floor, so at least there was that.

Throat burning, I peeled off the dress and underwear and climbed into the shower, letting the water get as hot as I could stand it. This wasn’t magic overload. I’d experienced that before and knew the signs. No, this was just average garden variety terror. It was one thing for people to think someone was strange, different, possibly in possession of some sort of vague unknown abilities. It was quite another to show it off in front of witnesses. Between phone calls, social media, and that damned Grapevine forum, it would be all over the county by morning even if the
Ledger
chose not to cover it.

I scrubbed my face clean and stood under the hot water for several minutes. Had I broken any laws? They might not burn witches but if I could be charged with anything that might happen. Would they send Ray to arrest me? The thought of packing up and leaving town, hell, leaving the state, still sounded like a good possibility despite Daniel’s assurances.

Shutting off the water, I nearly fell as I climbed out of the tub. Sleep was what I wanted more than anything, and warmth and safety and to never ever see my mother again because my God, I could imagine the look on her face when she found out. The thought of it made me want to laugh and run and hide, at the same time. Instead I dressed in jeans and a sweater, wanting to be prepared in case we did need to leave. The temptation to pack was strong. I was debating pulling my suitcase out of the closet when a knock came from the door.

Daniel said, “How’re you doing, Roxie?”

I opened the door. “Better. You sure you don’t want to go home? Or maybe, I don’t know, Argentina?”

“Blake is here.”

My breath caught and my heart didn’t know if it wanted to stop or go into overdrive. “Oh. Oh God.”

“What do you want?”

How could he ask? I slipped past him, racing up the hallway. Glossy black bursting with a starfield cloaked Blake, one of the most beautiful auras I’d ever seen. I flung myself into his arms, needing his strength, his warmth, needing him. He gathered me in his embrace and for a moment everything was right.

For years I had relied almost exclusively on my auric vision, not bothering to do the work to strengthen other magical senses. That changed after meeting Blake. For a while we’d worked magic together, and I’d expanded my abilities somewhat. Then he’d begun to spend more and more time working with his students and creating lessons for his friend’s witchcraft school. I spent time working with Stack and my magical senses took a big leap forward. So in addition to being able to see Blake’s aura, I could now feel the essence of his magic.

It was cold and dark and empty. A well that could not be filled.

He let go before I did. The drop from standing on tiptoe to reach him back to flat on the floor sent me wobbling. I grabbed the back of the couch for support.

“Hi,” I said.

“Daniel said you had some trouble tonight.”

I’d expected a warmer greeting, or at least a pretense of one. “Nothing I can’t handle.” As long as running away counted as handling it.

“Was it the creature?”

“What creature?”

Heavy black eyebrows came together as he stared down at me like I was a simpleton. “The one you conjured.”

For the first time since leaving the museum something replaced the fear I’d been choking on, a metallic anger, sharp and cold. “No. Look, we are not doing this right now.”

“We need to talk about this. It was clear from your emails you weren’t taking me seriously.”

“Of course I’m not taking you seriously. You want to banish my familiar and give me a magical lobotomy in the process. Not. Happening.”

Red flared in his aura, rapidly quashed by a press of will so sharp I felt it. As if a heavy weight hit the floor. “Roxie, just hear me out. Can we sit and talk? Please.”

For the first time I thought Daniel might have been right about Blake’s insistence I banish Stack. What really worried me, though, was the possibility Daniel might have been right about a lot of other things concerning Blake.

“Daniel was making me a cup of tea. Let me get that. You want one too?”

“Sure. Thank you.” He shrugged out of his coat and sat on the couch. I went to the kitchen to brace myself. I had a bad feeling this would be my one chance to talk Blake down.

With two fragrant cups of tea in my hands, I watched Blake from the hall for a moment. In black slacks and a gray dress shirt with no tie and the top button undone, he looked good. Handsome, but too off-kilter somehow to pass for professorial if that’s what he was going for. But that’s not what interested me most about his appearance. No, what I found fascinating was I could no longer see his aura. The black velvet starfield was gone, but there was a trace of a spell surrounding him. A darker gray than his shirt, a barricade of sorts blinding me to the colors of his essence and state of mind.

He’d learned to shield his aura. On the one hand I couldn’t blame him, on the other it was damned inconvenient. Plus it made me wonder what else he was hiding. I steeled myself one last time and entered the living room.

Blake stood as I approached, taking the cup I held out for him. It was then I realized he still hadn’t kissed me. We sat on the couch, close enough to touch if we wanted but not touching. The inches between us felt like a gulf of miles.

“I know there’s an inherent unfairness in this,” he said. “You banished the demon I summoned and it cost me nothing. But what happened then did cost me, Roxie. Getting so out of control, so arrogant and thoughtless, it cost me a piece of my soul I can’t get back.”

I placed my cup on the table without drinking any. “I know it must have been hard to see Seth. Scary, even. You’re not gonna wind up like that.”

“Damn right I’m not.” The vehemence in his tone surprised me, the force behind it making the shield around his aura pulse with energy. “I’m not going to wind up dead or insane because of magic. I can control this.”

A soft ticking sound caught my attention. I struggled to place it. It was the heat shutting off mid-cycle. Daniel was in the back of the house, listening. He didn’t need to shut the heat off to hear, it was just his way of reminding me of his presence in case I needed him.

I turned sideways on the couch and placed my hands on Blake’s knees. “I need you to understand, Stack is not a demon.”

“And I need you to understand I can’t accept this kind of thing in my life. I need stability. I need the discipline the school environment gives me. The grounding. Returning to ceremonial magic has been the best decision I’ve made in years.”

No more Blake the Chaos Sorcerer? If that’s what he wanted, then fine. What I couldn’t understand was why did I have to do the same thing? So I asked him, point blank.

“I need positive influences,” he said. “I need to be around people who share these values and practice the right kind of magic.”

A bunch of half-formed suspicions I’d had about him from the beginning crystallized into truth. Blake started with a sadistic mentor, later moving on to finding a person to house the demon who’d been whispering evil nothings in his ear. Now there was this Graham fellow and his witchcraft ashram of politically correct magic or whatever the hell. Briefly there was me, and a short time in which Blake saw the virtues of using magic to help someone other than oneself. Blake was a follower who needed a leader. More than guilt over past actions or fear of future mistakes, that’s what this was about. He’d found a new leader. Whatever tenuous bond existed between Blake and me would only survive if I followed that leader too.

I wasn’t the following type. “I won’t do it. Stack is not a threat. Neither am I.” I moved away from him, hugging my arms.

“I don’t think you understand. This is dangerous and it can’t be allowed to continue.”

“Blake.”

“You could hurt yourself. You could hurt others.”

This whole conversation seemed to be happening far away as I witnessed it from a distance, unbelieving. My mother leading half the town to the front door with pitchforks would not have surprised me. Blake insinuating I was dangerous, that I needed to be fixed and brought to heel and made as powerless as possible…I couldn’t fathom it. I got to my feet, wanting to be as far away from him as I could get, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back down.

“I won’t let you lose your soul to this thing.”

Blake had always been intense. It was one of the things I’d found attractive about him. The flat emptiness of his dark brown eyes in that moment went beyond intense and straight to restraining order.

I worked to keep both my voice and my heart rate calm, not wanting to add an enraged vampire to the mix. “I explained it to you. Stack is part of me. He’s not a demon or a ghost. He’s.” I paused, struggling for the words. “He’s made of me and the flood and the land my home is on and its history and the magic I practice. He’s made of rain and wind and lightning and thunder. He’s made of music too, and just enough whiskey I can taste it sometimes.”

His grip tightened on my arm. “Tricksters lie, Roxie. They lie and they make you complacent and make you trust them and before you know it, people are dead. If it comes to that you’ll pay for it the rest of your life. I won’t allow that.”

Cold trickled into my senses, starting at where his hand wrapped around my flesh. “You think you can save me? Is that it?”

Daniel had once speculated Blake wanted me to save him. Maybe there was some delusional part of me that thought I could, because I understood his need for communion. There was so much, though, I hadn’t understood. Oh God, so much.

“I can help you banish Stack, but you have to make the decision. The rite won’t work against your will.”

I had a feeling I was very lucky that was the case. “I’ve already made my decision. Now let go of me before this gets out of hand.”

Blake released me. Momentary fury washed over his face, the shield covering his aura pulsing and red spilling from the edges. In three slow breaths he pulled himself together. “You know I can’t be around this.”

“You mean you can’t be around me.” The finality of the words cut deep, with a rough jagged edge that threatened to bleed out.

“I need to live my life a certain way in order to maintain control. I’ve realized that. If you can’t do that with me…” He stood, turning away right as I saw tears shining in his dark eyes.

“I won’t be less than what I am. Not even for you.”

“I don’t want you to be less. I just want you to understand what you’re doing is dangerous.”

I stood, skirting him to get to the door. There was a dank coldness to the night air as I opened it that felt like after midnight. “You’re not the first person to tell me something’s wrong with me. Probably won’t be the last. I love you, Blake, but if you can’t accept me as I am then we’re through.”

He retrieved his coat, stopping to stand in front of me. “I love you, Roxie.” He pressed his lips against my temple. “I’ll respect your decision. We’re through.”

The moment he stepped over the threshold I sent my will into the wards, giving them a quick supercharge to keep him from trying to force his way back inside.

Lifting one heavy eyebrow, he cocked his head slightly and raised his chin, as if he could sense the magic. Of course he could.

“For now.” He dropped the shield covering his aura. The starfield was gone, leaving an empty void.

I slammed the door, shuddering.