Black Magic Bayou (27 page)

I held the jar of blood against my chest and skirted around the island so I was facing him from the opposite side. There was more stuff to look at over here, things I was sure were illegal to own in the state of Louisiana. And that wasn’t counting the dried marijuana sitting there like it was any old smudge bundle.

For him it probably was. Witches looked at plants and herbs a lot differently than average people did. They also got high for “magical enlightenment” sometimes, so really, who knew?

I wasn’t a fan of giving up my control—I had enough of that with shifting—and much like getting drunk, getting stoned was a bit of a fruitless effort, but pot did have its uses in spells, which made it a pain when you couldn’t buy it.

Police didn’t really care if you claimed, “No, but I’m trying to create a focus spell.”

Santiago was watching me carefully as I used my free hand to push aside a few items and pick up a heavy gold object about the size of a fist. It was a squat little statue depicting a god—I assumed—with disc-shaped eyes and an open, laughing mouth. The squared edges of the idol and its overall heft called to mind a specific style.

“Is this Mayan?” I manipulated it with my fingers the best I could, turning it over in my hand to get a look at the back.

This wasn’t some cheap store-bought reproduction. The scuffing on the surface and the way it had been carved positively screamed
this is the real deal
.

“That’s Zipacna.” He took the idol out of my hand and set it back on the island. “The Mayans thought he was a demonic incarnation of the earth’s crust. And that statue is where we’re going to trap Gamigan, so I’d suggest touching it as little as possible, unless you want it to bear your mark.”

“How the hell did you get something like that in only a day?” I didn’t think even Ezekiel kept thousand-year-old golden idols lying around. And if he did, they’d cost a pretty penny more than the seven grand I’d shelled out for supplies today.

Santiago grabbed a reusable shopping bag from next to the island and started loading herbs, candles, small mason jars filled with bugs both living and dead—was that a black widow spider?—and ignored my question.

“Santiago?”

“Mmm?” He was busy sorting through a drawer near his hip, and withdrew a stone ceremonial knife not unlike the ones
Memere
made.

I paused.

“Wait, is that…?” I pointed to the knife, not finishing my sentence.

He slipped it into the bag, smiling slyly. “You think just because she didn’t train me that she didn’t teach me anything?” He clucked his tongue. “You might be her favorite now,
bruja
, but there was a time she thought I’d be the one taking over from her when she was gone.”

“You still might.” I spoke the words before I’d realized I was thinking them. When I glanced up again, he was staring at me. “Forget it.”

“Let’s get Gamigan taken care of, then you and I can have a nice, long discussion about what you meant.”

“Yeah,
super
looking forward to it. Is it too late to hope the demon brings hell on earth first?”

“You know, Genie, there’s only so long you can pretend everything will work out on its own. There’s no magic spell that’s going to enable you to live two lives. You don’t get to be both the Alpha and the witch.”

“Sure I can. I’m greedy like that.”

“Joke all you want, but someday soon you’ll need to realize you only get one life, and that life needs to be lived, not endured.”

He reached across the island easily, taking the jar of blood from my hands and wrapping it in a kitchen towel, then adding it to the bag.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you do too much, take on too much, say
yes
to too much. You’re turning yourself into a candle with seven wicks. Do you know what happens to a candle with seven wicks?”

“It burns out.”

“It destroys itself.”

Where are you?

I’ve been here for twenty minutes.

Jesus, Genie, answer your fucking texts.

If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’m leaving.

I called Cash back two minutes before his deadline expired. “I’m so sorry.”

“You ask me to drive out to the middle of nowhere, and then you don’t bother to show up? This is bullshit, Genie. Bullshit.” He sounded really, genuinely mad.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated feebly. “Things got complicated.”

“They always do with you.”

Ouch.

I pushed aside his comment, shifting uncomfortably in the front seat of Santiago’s car with his big Trader Joe’s grocery bag on my lap. “We’re on our way.”

We were already on Chef Menteur, zooming along at a good clip. Typically the drive would be about forty-five minutes, but in the final, waning hours of night with the traffic thin and a madman behind the wheel, we were making excellent time.

“Ten more minutes,” he grumbled.

“Give me twenty.” I could tell he was going to protest, so I quickly added, “Please, Cash, this is important.”

“I’m starting to think shit is only important when it impacts you, and you forget the rest of us have our own stuff to deal with.” In the background I heard a female voice mumble something, but couldn’t quite make it out with the rushing sounds of the highway passing us.

At least I knew Tansy was there. Hopefully the real version of her.

We’d need her to get Gamigan to us.

In that moment I realized Cash was right. I was willing to use others as much as I needed to, if it meant accomplishing a goal
I
thought was important. Of course, in this case I was trying to help get a demon back into the shitty Pandora’s box Tansy had opened, so Cash could take his high-and-mighty attitude and shove it up his ass.

“Twenty minutes, Cash. I’ll be there, and if all goes well, you never have to fucking talk to me after tonight. But just
wait
. And don’t let her out of your sight.”
It might not be her who comes back
.

“Whatever.” He hung up.

Nineteen minutes and fourteen seconds later we pulled into the abandoned parking lot at Fort Pike. The fort was only open Fridays during the day to tourist visits, leaving it otherwise abandoned for the rest of the week. The limited access to the public and minimal security made it an ideal location for city werewolves who needed a place to get away. The fort backed onto a marshland, which was great for hunting rabbits and stretching four legs when the full moon came around.

I stressed to the local pack they should make an effort to go out to rural areas for the full moon—like Callum’s property—but in a pinch they needed to find places outside the city limits to change. We might be out as far as public knowledge went, but no one wanted to bump into a shifter in their wolf form out for a walk on Decatur.

I’d tried Fort Macomb once, since it was closer to home for me and similarly situated to Pike—both were on the water and had dozens of crumbling tunnels inside. But Macomb turned out to be a bit too close to the city proper for my tastes, and I didn’t have the same options for running freely. Pike ended up being my go-to place.

I’d never invited Cash along when I went for my furry walkabouts. I figured him watching me take down a deer might kill the romance. But I’d told him exactly how I managed to get into the historic site, so I knew he wouldn’t have any trouble getting access when I told him to come here.

Wilder, Santiago, and I got parked in the dark visitor lot.

We’d left Laura and Heidi back at Santiago’s, making them promise they wouldn’t go anywhere until we returned. They could call anyone they wanted to, but they needed to stay put. Santiago could keep them protected, but only if they remained within the boundaries of his wards. Anything beyond that and we couldn’t guarantee Gamigan wouldn’t show up to finish what it started.

This last part was enough to assure me they wouldn’t go anywhere.

I think they were just grateful to not be stuck inside a wall anymore. I’d only tried it out for five minutes, and I’d felt like I was suffocating. They’d been trapped for a week. I bet Santiago’s living room was like a whole world of freedom after something that harrowing.

Cash and Tansy weren’t immediately visible when we got out of the BMW, but his car was still here, so I knew they hadn’t left. I skirted the lot to a small footbridge which led to the fort proper. The tourist entrance was located at the end of the bridge, but we weren’t going to use the door. I climbed onto the handrail and easily got hold of the stone lip that extended over the door arch, pulling myself up onto a grassy area overhead. Wilder was able to do the same, and to my surprise Santiago didn’t need any help to climb up after us. The grass ledge extended the whole way around the fort, with a stone walkway that formed the interior wall. I walked almost three-quarters of the way around the upper embankment until I came to a staircase that led down to the interior.

The inner part of the fort was a series of tunnels dug back into the hill and a large square tower building in the middle that had mostly crumbled away, leaving only brick walls and no roof.

I caught the scent of Cash from inside the decrepit building and led Wilder and Santiago in that direction, hiking the big bag of magical artifacts a little higher up on my shoulder.

I approached the center building slowly, not quite sure what to expect. There was no blood on the air, so I had to assume Tansy and Cash were still in one piece. I also couldn’t sense anything to indicate Gamigan had arrived, but since demons had no smell, I wasn’t expecting to get a fair heads-up.

This close to the water there were too many other aromas anyway. The wind carried a dozen new odors with each gust, and the only reason I could pick up on Cash was because he was nearby and his scent was familiar.

“Cash?” Forget being stealthy, he knew we were coming. It was time we got this over and done with.

He came to the doorway of the ruined complex, giving me the kind of stare one might reserve for a hated enemy, not a former lover. He had every reason to be annoyed over my lateness, but this extent seemed a little extreme.

“You want to explain why you had me come all the way out here just to sit around in the cold for an hour while you gallivanted all over town with…” he gave Wilder and Santiago a quick, dismissive once-over each, “…your harem.”

“Come on, man,” Wilder said.

“No, you can be her lapdog all you want, but I’m sick of having her crook her finger and expecting me to do whatever she asks.”

That last bit rankled me enough I remembered I was able to speak up for myself. “
Hey
. The stable called, they want their high horse back.”

Everyone fell silent.

Behold the power of my terrible comebacks.

I plowed ahead before anyone could comment, because I could tell Santiago was just itching to say something. “Need I remind you that
you
called
me
. I was busy. I had a police investigation to deal with, a pack to run, I had a life that had nothing to do with you anymore. But you called me. And I came, because I wanted to help you. And when it turned out helping you meant helping your new girlfriend, did I say no? No. I fucking
helped
. So before you start crawling up my ass about how selfish I am, maybe remember I have better fucking things to do than to drive out here and save your idiot girlfriend’s life. Because guess what? This is all. Her. Fault.”

The silence drew out, extending beyond the point of a lull to something genuinely uncomfortable. I wasn’t going to speak first, though. I’d said my peace, and I felt totally justified in every single word.

Cash’s rage didn’t seem to dissipate at all. “How dare you blame her?”

Santiago was the one who spoke this time, saying matter-of-factly, “She’s here, isn’t she? Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Cash wanted to refuse. I could see the willful obstinance in his expression. He’d say no just so he could keep one foot on the high ground rather than yield a single inch that might prove us right. Tansy, however, had been listening to the whole argument, and she came out of hiding so she was standing a few feet behind Cash, distancing herself from the rest of us. She wore a light blue sweater and jeans—not at all the same ensemble Gamigan-Tansy had been wearing earlier—but she still looked cold. She’d wrapped her arms around herself, and all the color had drained from her face.

“They’re right.” Her voice was so quiet I thought I might be imagining that she’d spoken. When Cash gave her a
Come again?
look, she said it louder. “They’re right. This is my fault.”

“Hey now. I know you feel responsible for those girls, but you can’t be the one to protect them all. This isn’t on you.”

She let him get through the whole sentence but was shaking her head the entire time. “No, Cash. This is my fault. Not in a roundabout way, not in a symbolic way. The demon in that room is there because of me.”

“What you mean?”

Santiago snorted. “Grow a brain, pal. It means she summoned a demon.”

Cash kept his attention on Tansy, but there was no way he hadn’t heard what Santiago said. Tansy did nothing to deny it, either. She continued to shift nervously, rubbing her arms, and then she burst into tears.

“I d-didn’t mean to.”

Oh God, was she seriously going to play this up like an accident? I had a lot of patience, but for her to claim this was one big whoops-a-daisy wasn’t going to fly.

“Tansy, what are they talking about?” Cash closed the gap between them, her crying obviously causing him distress. “Baby, talk to me.” He tried to put his arms around her, but she wrenched herself free, sobbing so loud it echoed off the stone walls.

“You have to believe me.” She only had eyes for me with this statement, pleading openly for me to say I bought into what she was selling. The trouble was, I didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Tansy, but no one calls up a demon by accident. That’s not how it works. There are people who train for decades just to be able to do it intentionally. I was raised by one of the most powerful witches in North America, and demon magic is so dark even she won’t touch it. So, no,
I didn’t mean to
doesn’t cut it.”