Black Magic Woman (21 page)

“Shit. I already told you what I know about Henri, Daph. She came here from Louisiana around 1795, she founded a voodoo temple with an official start date of 1797, she died. Fast-forward a couple hundred-plus years and in comes D’Abo. That’s the story.”

“Which is why I need you to dig deeper. Why did she end up in New York? What kind of person was she? How old was she when she died, and how did it happen? How well-known was she in Manhattan, and what did she do while she lived here?”

“Just the basic outline then,” Corinne quipped.

“I know it’s asking a lot, but it’s…” She sighed. “I can’t tell you why, but I just have a feeling that for some reason, she’s important to what’s going on.”

“Despite having been dead since before the Civil War.”

“Despite that.”

“All right,” Corinne agreed. “Give me some time, and I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

When she hung up, Daphanie spent several minutes staring at the phone and remembering the scene in her dreams. She had meant what she told her friend. Somehow, Manon Henri was the key to this whole mess, Manon and the dream.

Now if only Asher would come back so she could tell him all about it. Or so
he
could make
her
forget all about it. At the moment, Daphanie didn’t think she could afford to be picky.

Thirteen

There exists a curious similarity in the role that reputation and perception play in the social hierarchies of both the human and the Other world. Obviously, the perception of an alpha’s power governs his ability to hold onto his position within the pack in the same way that a politician’s efficacy or moral authority can govern his ability to hold onto his office.

In no other group, however, does reputation and perceived power seem to have a greater positive or negative effect than among magic users (i.e., witches, sorcerers, voodoo priest/-esses, summoners, etc.). In fact, there is some speculation among outsiders (magic users being by and large notoriously secretive and insular) that the level of fear and respect accorded to a magical practitioner may actually enhance or diminish that person’s natural power.

—A Human Handbook to the Others,
Chapter Seven

The jingle of the bell perched atop the door announced Asher’s entrance into the small retail space. The scent of herbs and incense immediately greeted him, and behind him, Graham gave a small, choked cough.

“La Société de Bon Anges, Charles D’Abo,
houngan
& prop.,” just off Delancy Street, turned out to be quite stark and sparsely stocked compared to what Asher had expected. The interior and shelves had all been painted white, and most of the shelves were pushed back against the walls on three sides of the modest room. Books, candles, decorative items, stones, poppets, and bundles of herbs took up most of the display space, lending small bits of color and interest.

On the right side of the room, a nicked and worn-looking glass counter ran most of the length of the space, with the shelves behind it stacked with uniform, clear glass jars, each bearing a neatly hand-printed label in black marker on white paper. The jars appeared to contain various amounts of herbs, spices, and resins, presumably for magical rather than culinary purposes. Inside the counter, two shelves offered up a variety of jewelry, baubles, magical tools, and small colored cloth bags.

Opposite the counter, two ancient chairs with worn and faded cushions flanked a low round table about eighteen inches across. In one of the chairs, a young Latina woman sat poring over a book. She looked up when the men entered and offered a blank and expressionless stare.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a voice devoid of either interest or enthusiasm.

“I’d like to see Charles D’Abo,” Asher informed her.

“Sorry, you can’t.”

She bent her head back to her book.

Behind him, Graham snickered softly. Asher sent him a glare, mostly out of a sense of obligation, because he understood the sentiment. She hadn’t sounded very sorry at all.

Still, Asher wasn’t in the habit of allowing himself to be dismissed by rude human teenagers (O the redundancy!). He leaned forward and adopted a more menacing stare.

“I want to see D’Abo. Now.”

This time when she looked up, the girl blinked. But she still shook her head. “H-he’s not here,” she stammered.

He dug for patience. “When will he be back?”

“N-no, I mean, he’s not here. At all.” She swallowed. “He never came in today. No one’s seen him.”

This time, when Asher frowned, it wasn’t for effect. What did she mean, no one had seen him?

“Did you expect him to come in?”

“Sure. He comes in every day. Even when the store’s not open, he at least goes to the
hounfort
to work. He’s a very busy man, you know, and very powerful. Someone is always seeking him out for advice or magic or to learn the ways of the
société
.”

“She sounds like a damned recruitment poster,” Graham murmured behind Asher’s back. “Is this a temple or a cult?”

“Does there have to be a difference?”

Asher agreed that the shopgirl sounded as if she’d memorized her answer from a proselytistic tract, but at least her eyes weren’t empty. She had the look of a true believer rather than a zombie minion.

“Has anyone tried getting in touch with him? Called him at home, gone to see him?” he asked her.

“I tried calling the number on the side of the register.” She waved at the counter and the ancient electronic cash register perched on top. “But no one answered. No one in back seemed to know where he was, either, but they told me not to worry. They said he has been under a lot of stress lately, with almost constant attacks from his enemies. He probably stayed home to rest.”

Asher could only assume that “in back” referred to the
hounfort,
the home of the temple where private ceremonies, rituals, and magics were performed. It surprised him that no one in the whole building knew where D’Abo was.

It also irritated him. He wanted to know where the man was at all times so he could ensure Daphanie’s protection.

“Wow, brainwashed
and
dumb as a brick,” Graham muttered under his breath. “If that’s a sample of the caliber of the man’s followers, I say we leave him to his own devices. With stupid like that, this group’s gotta be its own worst enemy.”

The shopgirl appeared not to hear.

Asher was hard-pressed not to agree.

“But did anyone go to check on him?” he persisted. The last thing he wanted was an unaccounted for D’Abo. If the man had changed his routine or gone underground, he might have done so in order to concentrate on his plans for Daphanie.

“No.”

“I feel the need to apologize to bricks.”

Asher ignored the alpha. Personally, he couldn’t decide if she was a victim of stupidity or a terminal lack of personality.

“Then give me his home address,” he ordered. “
I
will go and check on him.”

The girl blinked. “Oh. No, I don’t think I can do that.”

He tried a glower. “Why. Not.”

She shrank back a little, but she didn’t change her answer. “Because. That might make the
houngan
angry. I wouldn’t want to make him angry.”

Asher leaned down, trapping her against the back of her chair. He gave her a moment to absorb his presence, then asked, very, very softly, “Do you want to make
me
angry?”

The girl squeaked in terror.

Graham laid a hand on his shoulder. “Back off before her head explodes.”

Asher shot him a killing glare.

“You’re not getting anywhere,” the alpha pointed out, “and I just got a text message from Rafe.” He waggled his cell phone under the other man’s nose. “He wants us to meet him back at the club
tout de suite
.”

Asher straightened slowly, barely noticing when the girl’s eyes rolled back in her head and she slid bonelessly out of her chair and onto the floor.

“Why?” he demanded.

Graham rolled his eyes. “How much information do you think he packed into a text message? Let’s get out of here so we can find out.”

*   *   *

“I took the liberty of asking an acquaintance to look around the Callahans’ apartment,” Rafe informed them when they had gathered in Graham’s office on the ground floor at Vircolac. “I thought he might be able to find some clue as to the identity of the burglars and their motive for striking.”

“Didn’t we already know that?” Graham asked. He sat behind his desk, his legs outstretched and his booted feet propped on the cluttered surface. He also kept a weather eye on the open door to ensure his secretary didn’t catch him at it. “It was D’Abo and his minions and they were looking for something he could use against Daphanie. Something to strengthen the curse he put on her.”

“Ah, but if it was D’Abo looking for something to use against Daphanie, why was nothing taken?”

“Do we know for sure nothing was?” Asher demanded. “When I asked her if she could see anything missing, she said no, but she was hardly in a state to swear to it. She was too shaken up.”

“Perhaps that is true, but I suspect her first inclination will prove to be correct. It would have been much easier to remove a small item belonging to Daphanie and slip out of the apartment unnoticed. Exerting that sort of destructive effort seems excessive.”

“Unless they did it to scare her. If that was their goal, I can vouch for their success.” Asher’s hands clenched into fists on his lap. He would never forget the look on Daphanie’s face when she first glimpsed the chaos in the apartment. She had looked so lost. Hurt. It made him want to hurt whoever had given her that look. Hurt them until she smiled.

That she wasn’t the type to smile at another’s pain didn’t really matter to him. It would make
him
smile.

“Do you think that was the goal?” Graham asked. “I got a glimpse of the place, and you’re right that it looks like it cost someone a lot of trouble. That wasn’t five minutes’ work. Whoever was in there took his time about it.”

Rafe nodded. “I think it was part of the objective, yes. But I believe there was more to it. I don’t believe the intruder was there looking for an item of Daphanie’s clothing. I believe he went there for
her
.”

Asher went blank.

Graham’s feet thumped onto the floor and he leaned forward in his chair. “You think D’Abo went there to try to get to Daphanie directly?”

“Is that not what you would do?” Rafe asked. “If you had a desire to seek revenge on someone, would you break into her home to grab a hair ribbon in hopes of causing her some magical distress? Or would you hope to grab the enemy herself?”

“Of course I’d go after her,” Graham said. “But I’m Lupine, not some kind of witch doctor. I don’t believe in wasting time on this sort of thing.”

“What man does?”

Asher stood so fast, his chair toppled backward, crashing to the floor with a reverberating thump. “I have to get back to my place. I left her there alone. I thought she’d be safe because of the wards, but her sister’s apartment was warded, too, and that didn’t stop them there.”

Rafe rose and stepped into the Guardian’s path. “Relax, my friend. I have already seen to your woman. I posted guards at the door to your home as well as on all the streets leading up to it. She is well protected.”

“By whom? What kind of guards? Are they any good?”

The Felix’s mouth quirked. “Ask Winters. They come from his security force.”

Graham rolled his eyes. “Of course they do. Hey, my pack is your pack, compadre. Feel free to reassign my guards anywhere you like. In fact, why don’t you just give them all the month off with pay? Clearly, I can foot the bill and deal with the inconvenience.”

“It is unbecoming of you to whine,” Rafe said. “You were unfortunately away from your office when I realized precautions needed to be taken.” He paused and grinned. “If it’s any consolation, I consulted with your wife before I spoke with Logan, and she gave me her blessing to make whatever use of your security that I needed.”

“Yeah, I feel so much better now,” the Lupine grumbled.

“Feel free to take it up with her.”

Asher relaxed just a fraction at the news that Logan Hunter headed up Daphanie’s guard. He didn’t know the Lupine well, but he did know that he held the position of beta to the Silverback Clan and chief of security for Vircolac and the pack’s other, more private, concerns. If Asher couldn’t personally be with Daphanie, at least he could trust Hunter to protect her with his life.

Rafe turned back to Asher. “Rest assured, I would never take risks with another man’s mate, Guardian. She is as safe as we can make her. For the moment.”

“But we need to make her safer.”

“Exactly. In my opinion, the only way to make her wholly safe is to remove the threat against her.”

“That’s what we were planning to do,” Graham said. “That’s what we went over to D’Abo’s temple to do—to remove him. Only it turns out the bastard wasn’t there.”