What Voodoo Do You Do? Read online

  Wanda gave a soft squeal when she saw Monty. As usual, she spoke to my little hero in a quiet voice. I speculated it was because she didn’t want me to hear the baby talk she used with him.

  I grinned. The hard-case teen Gren and I had met for the first time foraging in my kitchen, bold as you please, barely ever surfaced anymore.

  She’d gone soft in the heart. But not in the head. She was as steady and dependable as any of my council, always giving me good information when I needed it.

  I hoped that helpful streak continued through my next request.

  Wanda came into the kitchen and sniffed the air. “Do I smell lasagna?”

  I grinned. “You do. Mavis just ran out for some Italian bread.” I sliced into the carrot on the cutting board in front of me. “I’m in charge of the salad.”

  Wanda nodded thoughtfully. She plucked two pieces of carrot off the board and ate one, then “accidentally” dropped one in front of her little beggar buddy. “Oops.”

  I sighed. “You might as well stop pretending you don’t feed him people food. I know you do.”

  She shrugged off my insinuation and stole a whole carrot.

  “Hey!” I’d peeled three carrots for the salad, and she’d just stolen a third of my effort. I hated peeling carrots. No way did I want to peel another one. I nodded toward the counter where I’d left the peeler. “You’re peeling the replacement.”

  “Sure.” She bit off a piece of her carrot and gave it to Monty, offering me a smug grin.

  I sighed. “He’s going to be insufferable if we all spoil him,” I told her.

  “He’s a warrior,” she responded, heading for the refrigerator to grab another carrot. “He deserves some of the spoils too.”

  She wasn’t wrong. My dog had saved my life a few times already. And the creatures he’d gone up against had been terrifying. He hadn’t hesitated to jump in and try to protect me. I owed him big time.

  “I need your help with something,” I said, scraping the last of my sliced carrot into the salad bowl.

  “What?” Wanda opened the trash can and stood over it, peeling in a perfect, practiced motion. She didn’t even slice chunks off her fingers like I usually did.

  I examined the peeler slices on my hands and frowned. Someone needed to come up with a peeler that worked better. Eyeing Wanda’s perfect strokes, I had to admit that maybe I was the problem, not the peeler.

  I wasn’t the world’s best cook. I didn’t burn water or anything, but my technique was below average. I brewed a mean cup of coffee, dished up a perfect bagel with butter, cream cheese, and jelly, and could make a peanut butter and potato chip sandwich with the best of them. But Mavis’s love of cooking and Bev’s technical expertise in the kitchen had never rubbed off on me.

  Besides, Mavis loved to cook. Who was I to deprive her of that?

  I quickly filled Wanda in on what had been going on. By the end of my story, she was leaning against the counter, the peeler and carrot in her hands forgotten. “Demons? Really?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  She turned around and absently placed the peeler into the sink, rinsing the carrot and shaking off the excess water. Carrying it over to me, she sat down and watched as I cut it up.

  I let her stew on the information I gave her. I’d learned that the teen needed to assess a situation completely before speaking to it.

  “This woman who’s missing, do you think she’s been possessed?”

  The knife slid off the carrot and got my finger before I could catch it. The pain didn’t hit me at first. Not until the first drops of blood welled up. “Ouch! Swear, curse.”

  Wanda’s lips twitched. She was amused by my chosen form of swear control.

  Sucking the wounded finger, I asked around it. “Why are you asking me that?” It hadn’t occurred to me that Mrs. Wolde might have wandered off because she was possessed. It probably should have. That was a rookie mistake on my part.

  Wanda shrugged. “It seems like a good possibility.”

  “You’re right. It does.” Then I remembered I’d asked Davis to hunt her down. If she was possessed, he wouldn’t have a chance with her. She could kill him without even breaking a sweat. Fear blossomed in my belly, twisting like a knife. “Is there a way to know if somebody’s possessed before they get violent?”

  Wanda pursed her lips. “Not really. Until they start changing their hosts, they generally lay low to avoid notice. It’s not like in the movies, where the host starts spewing pea soup and stuff.”

  “How have demons been stopped in the past?”

  She shrugged. “Except for rare instances where a Hellmouth managed to take hold, demonkind have been largely contained. The available magical history on demons is sparse. It mostly focuses on the vortex. I don’t know if that’s because demons are so hard to kill or if it's because an open Hellmouth is so catastrophic.”

  Of course I’d find a problem without a documented solution. I was an overachiever that way. I thought about her words for a minute and then said, “Okay, let’s look at this from another angle. You told us that the Lares who shut down the last vortex sealed it from inside.”

  Wanda nodded.

  “What did he use to seal it?”

  She frowned. “His staff, I guess. That’s the only source of concentrated power a Lares has.”

  “So, he threw himself into the abyss, and what? Just blasted the ever-living…erm…stuffing out of it?” I decided I’d really chosen the wrong profession if I was going to give up swearing.

  Wanda shrugged.

  Biting back frustration, I kept moving forward. “What we know is that the vulnerable spot is too far below the surface to reach from outside the vortex.”

  “Yes.”

  “And, we can assume that our best option with the demons, unless we can come up with a way to kill them, would be to return them to the vortex.”

  Her expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe. But if we can’t close it, they’ll just keep popping back out, and we’ll spend the rest of our lives playing a gigantic game of whack-a-demon.”

  I grinned at the visual. “Right. But what if we could wrap the demons in the type of energy that kills the vortex? Like a trojan horse?” It was a far-fetched idea, but something I’d come up with while trying to think outside the box.

  Her mouth opened and she stared at me, her gaze intense as if she were lost in thought. Then, I noticed she wasn’t blinking.

  Too late, I realized she was starting to fade away.

  I jumped to my feet, reaching for her, but there was nothing I could do. The curse was yanking her back. Too fast. She should have been able to stay with us for at least an hour. But then, she shouldn’t have shown up in the morning either.

  I made a note to speak to Bev and Mavis about their work on Wanda’s spell. I was really starting to think that whatever they were doing was changing Wanda’s curse in strange ways.

  We needed to figure out if those changes were dangerous to the teen.

  11

  Below the Soil a Villain Sounds

  The kitchen was warm, bright with the new overhead lights Trish had installed for me, and filled with hungry people enjoying Mavis’s gooey, cheesy lasagna and garlic bread. My salad went over big with the women and Niele, who seemed to prefer greens and carbs to meat.

  Along with his moss undies, Niele was wearing his pretty flower vest, which not only smelled great but was bullet and knife resistant to boot. I’d thought about having him make me one of those. It would come in handy in my new career.

  Maybe he had a demon-resistant version. Hmmm.

  I carried my full plate over to Niele, who was standing by the steps leading to the mudroom, his plate overflowing with salad and bread. “How’s your dinner?” I asked the big man.

  His wide smile made his thick-featured face look almost handsome. “Delicious. Especially the salad.”

  I laughed. “Suck up.”

  Niele’s laugh was deep and soft, his shoulders shaking beneath i
t.

  “How were things in town today? Any demon sightings?” I was worried that Rome was about to be infested by demons, and I wasn’t sure how to stop it. Or what to do if it happened.

  “Rome was quiet.” He frowned, invalidating his implication that all was well. “Except for the shifting of the earth deep below the surface,” he added.

  “Has that gotten worse?”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “Worse? I don’t think so. But it’s already pretty bad. I nearly got lost traveling from my home to the church this morning. And I’ve been traveling that route for fifty years.”

  My eyes went wide. “Lost? How?”

  “The tectonic plates are moving around. The geosphere is skewed.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  “How’s Gren?” Luke asked a quietly brooding Ferral behind me. The advocate was standing in the corner near the refrigerator, eating lasagna and sporting a serious glower. I’d asked him about Gren as soon as he’d arrived, but all he’d said was that the protector would heal.

  That assurance, such as it was, left a lot of room for interpretation and worry.

  Ferral shook his head, his gaze sliding to me and then quickly away.

  Panic speared my chest, and my pulse spiked. I walked over to join the two shifters. “Tell me about Gren,” I said to Ferral, my tone brooking no argument.

  “Madam Lares,” Ferral began in his most arrogant tone. “Your focus needs to be on the problem at hand…”

  “Tell. Me,” I repeated between gritted teeth.

  He sighed, placing his half-eaten dinner aside. “As I said before, he’s under the best care available in this lamentably unmagical place.”

  I arched a brow. “Where is he? Who’s taking care of him? And how badly is he hurt?”

  The advocate’s jaw gained a mulish aspect. “He is fine…”

  I closed my eyes on a wave of dizziness, grabbing hold of the counter before I fell. Voices came at me as if from a distance, hollow sounds that were as meaningless at that moment as Ferral’s empty assurances.

  Someone touched my shoulder and then jerked away with a hiss.

  My body throbbed, my muscles tightening almost painfully. Heat climbed through my clenched form, making beads of sweat pop out on my upper lip and along my hairline.

  Rage pulsed through me.

  Without warning, energy blasted away from me with a force that slammed into Ferral, crushing his big body into the wall behind him. My eyes snapped open, and I clenched my fist in front of his unrelenting face. Despite the violence of my rage, he stared at me as if he were watching rain fall from the sky. His arms hung loosely at his sides. His muscles were as relaxed as his expression.

  I slowly raised my fist and he slid up the wall, skimming upward until he hit the ceiling.

  The voices that my mind had muted suddenly broke over me like a wave on the front edge of a hurricane, swamping me with a chaos of emotions.

  With what felt like superhuman effort, I clenched down on the raging magic trying to escape my control. I pulled air into my lungs and eased it out again through barely parted lips. The rage began to ease, and I slowly allowed my fist to lower, bringing Ferral with it. When his big feet rested on the floor again, I sagged, my knees turning soft beneath me. “What…” I licked my lips, brushing my sleeve over my sweat-dampened face. “What just happened?”

  To my surprise, Ferral was the one who answered my question, his tone neutral, as if I hadn’t just tried to wash the wall with him. “You just reached the next level.”

  I dropped into the nearest chair and rubbed my hands over my face. The room was absolutely silent around me. I lifted my gaze and found them all staring. A soft chirp above my head made me glance toward the light fixture in the center of the kitchen.

  The bat hung from the metal and glass fixture I’d had specially made to match the lights and fans in the rest of the house. Even the flying rodent was staring at me through its unnatural yellow eyes.

  “Level?” Luke finally asked.

  Ferral nodded, pushing away from the wall and striding over as if I hadn’t just tried to kill him. He eased himself gracefully into a chair next to me at the table.

  “Gaining a legacy requires the passage of four levels,” the advocate explained. “Understanding, Acceptance, Outreach, and Response. Madam Lares had already passed Understanding and Acceptance. It appears she has just attained the Outreach stage.”

  I frowned. “Outreach makes me beat up my own people?”

  “Only when they deserve it,” somebody mumbled behind me. Soft snickering accompanied the statement. The bat chirped in apparent agreement.

  Ignoring them, Ferral continued. “Outreach in this context is nothing like you are used to in the human realm. The legacy is seeking validation that you have fully embraced the first two levels. Outreach is all about expanding your legacy. The level inspires a passion for your heritage magic. Embracing this passion occurs in many ways. Adding to your trusted group, stepping up your training, expecting more from yourself and others. Rage and frustration are necessary factors of that expansion because the magic running through your veins reduces your ability to slough things off. It will make you impatient with those who seem to defy your needs.”

  I grimaced. “So, you’re telling me I’m going to become a raging jerk?”

  He shrugged. “Only for a while. You will grow accustomed to the magic in due course.”

  “And until then?” I asked, feeling as if I wanted to go hide in my room.

  Ferral pushed to his feet. “In the meantime, let us focus as much of that rage on our enemies as possible.”

  Gong!

  I jerked in instinctive alarm at the doorbell that sounded like a summons. Bev had installed it for me as a house-warming gift. I’d loved the chime at the time. It seemed fitting to have a doorbell that sounded like a church bell when one was living in an old church. But since realizing that my early warning system as a Lares involved an actual church bell in my belfry, the doorbell sometimes gave me pause.

  “I’ll get it,” my sister said, striding quickly toward the front door. A moment later, Bev’s voice was heading back our way, accompanied by a second voice I recognized.

  Chief Marshal followed my sister into the room.

  I smiled at him. “You’re just in time for dinner.”

  He nodded, looking wearier than I’d ever seen him. “Thanks. But I’ll just take some water, please.”

  Mavis got him a glass of water, motioned to the table where I was sitting, and proceeded to fill a plate for him anyway. She was a genuine food bully. She’d never met a victim she didn’t try to feed. I loved that about her.

  My gaze searched for Ferral and found an empty spot where he’d been sitting. The jerk had slithered away when I wasn’t paying attention. He really didn’t want to tell me about Gren. Ice climbed through my belly at the thought. Was Gren in danger and Ferral didn’t want to admit it? Or was he already dead?

  Stars burst in front of my eyes at the thought, and I had to take several deep breaths before the panic receded.

  “Thank you for this,” Davis said, giving Mavis a warm smile that seemed to linger longer than a plate full of lasagna and salad warranted. “It smells delicious.”

  To my delighted surprise, Mavis’s cheeks colored. “You’re very welcome, Chief.”

  I let the man eat for a few minutes before I asked him for a report on his demon-possessed prisoners.

  Conversation returned to normal as everyone returned to their meals. I let the sounds soak into me, enjoying the warm spot they created in my belly. A warmth that helped me temporarily set aside the icy fear I had for Gren.

  When Davis set his fork down a few minutes later to take a drink of water, I asked, “Everything okay at the jail?”

  He nodded, forking up some salad. “Those creatures you left to watch things…”

  “The lost ones,” Bev said, sitting down with us.

  Davis nodded. “That’s some level twelve
nightmare stuff there, Aggy.”

  “Yes. But I trust my guy. If Ferral says they’re safe, then they’re safe.” Even though he was a curse, swear curse pain in my backside.

  Davis chewed thoughtfully for a beat and then swallowed. “They’re powerful creatures,” he admitted. “The Thomas’s don’t have a chance of escaping my jail with those two in the room.”

  I winced at his use of the couple’s name. That was when I realized I’d already started to think of them as the demons they were possessed with. Their humanity was already fading away in my mind. That realization made me sad. “That’s one less thing to worry about then,” I murmured.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Davis said. “What’s the plan? I can’t keep them in there indefinitely. Them or their nightmarish guards. Sooner or later, I’m gonna have to put a real prisoner in those cells.”

  Sitting back in my chair, I scrubbed my hands over my face. A full belly and my recent power surge had drained my battery. Having been going at it since the wee hours of the morning wasn’t helping either. Weariness swamped me. I suddenly wanted nothing more than a nap.

  The delicious scent of fresh-brewed coffee wafted beneath my nose, and Mavis placed a steaming black cup of vitality in front of me. “Thank you!” I told her. “You’re the best mom in the whole world.” Grinning, Mavis squeezed my shoulder. “You’re welcome, honey. Chief, would you like a cup?”

  His answering grin was almost flirty. “Only if you’ll call me Davis.”

  She tittered like a schoolgirl. “It’s a deal.”

  I lowered my head to hide a grin.

  Davis watched Mavis walk away, his gaze filled with appreciation.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about his interest in Mavis. I’d have to give that some thought once the world stopped ending. “As soon as I figure out how to draw the demons out of them, we’ll give you your jail cell back, Chief.”

  “Any ideas on when that will be?”

  “No. But we’re working on it. I have a feeling we’re pinched for time. Those demons are already creating changes in that young couple. The longer we let the nasty things keep control, the harder it will be to get them back.”