Hoodoo Woman (Roxie Mathis Book 3) (9 page)

I dropped my jacket and bag on the table and ran toward the screaming. Staff poured out of the kitchen. Heat from the ovens should have made the space at least warm if not downright hot, but it was cold instead. The energy in the kitchen rolled and tumbled unevenly as the last member of the staff ran out. She was there somewhere but the auric vision showed me nothing yet despite what I could feel.

“Britney.” I searched for any sign of the ghost. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

A smudge of gray fluttered above an industrial sink full of soapy water and dirty dishes. The hose rattled then flung to the left in a jerky movement. The sprayed turned to face me. I felt the push of energy before water came out, giving me a few seconds to drop out of the line of fire. It rained on my back as I made my way to the prep area, hunched over. A young woman’s laughter sounded, echoing in the large kitchen full of plenty of surfaces for sound to bounce off of. A happy sound, and I almost didn’t mind she was clearly chasing me with the hose, pulling it out as far as it would go and spraying at full pressure. Until the water hitting my jacket and sometimes my skin turned hot, steaming in the cold air.

“Britney!” I raised my head above a steel prep table to search for her. Ice water hit me in the face. I shrieked, shaking it off like a dog after a bath. “You’re not sticking around to play pranks. What do you want?”

The only answer was more laughter and a switch to hot water. Ray called my name. I turned, slipping to my knees on the wet floor, to see him in the doorway. He said, “I got the place evacuated. What do you need?”

Another shower of water rained down, this time cycling from hot to cold to hot again, following me as I scrambled around the corner. “A proton pack and a ghost trap would be handy right now.” With all the noise I doubted he heard my bad joke.

The water pressure intensified into a painful jet, the temperature fluctuations not helping any. Britney’s laughter took a turn for the maniacal, an ugly edge of anger in the sound. Abruptly the water shut off, followed seconds later by the sound of plates breaking. A shard of jagged crockery nicked my shoulder as I stupidly raised up to get a look around.

Good god, I could see her clear as day. Most spirits resembled faded watercolors if they weren’t plain black and white. They tended to shimmer and flicker and generally look like an unrestored old movie that had been kept in the worst possible conditions, then screened on a sheet in the backyard, rippling in the wind and a shoddy sound system making any vocals sound like they came up out of a well. A spirit had to be strong to manifest clearly, in color, powerful enough to move things around in the physical plane.

Britney stood by the sink looking as solid as Ray did in the doorway. Her beauty queen looks had followed her into death, her smile pure mischief as she directed a symphony of smashing plates and pots by waving her hands. Giggling, she smeared food on the walls. It should have come across as bratty but there was a joyousness to her face that made me like her. Still, I couldn’t let it go on.

I stood, calling her name again. She stopped playing, dropping her hands. Silence filled the kitchen as the last bit of breakage settled. The hose came up without her touching it and I steeled myself. Movement to my side alerted me to Ray’s presence but I didn’t have time to warn him what I was about to do. He’d just have to see it for himself and deal with it.

Britney unleashed a torrent of water the hose was not big enough to deliver. Like a water cannon from a fire hose, it was headed straight for me and putting off steam in the cold air. Feet planted, I raised one hand, palm out, and stopped the jet of water with a push of will that sent a slight tremor through me. The water flowed down the invisible wall of energy I’d thrown up, flooding the kitchen but not hitting me or Ray, who stood close enough I could see the shock on his face from the corner of my eye.

I couldn’t worry about him, though. Britney and I needed to talk. I strode toward her, pushing enough will out to turn off the hose and wrest it from her control. “Britney, I can help you but I need to know what you want.”

Her face crumpled, mouth trembling. She ducked her head, long blond hair hiding her expression. I didn’t need to see it to know what was going on with her, I could feel it as surely as if she spoke to me.

A person’s aura was not an endless thing. It extends outward from the body for a few feet, perhaps more with a particularly strong personality. Part of magic is forcing that personal energy even further outward in general waves or directed spikes. Witches always have a larger aura than average people. Crossing the line into another witches’ space was somewhat like a boat drifting from international waters into a country’s sea border. Generally the act was harmless but sometimes it could be seen as an invitation for battle. This time, when I crossed into the ghost’s field of energy, it was a window into a young woman’s heart.

A sorrow like nothing I’d ever experienced or even imagined seeped from deep inside the whirl of energy that was Britney’s ghost. It pulled me under like a strong tide, choking the breath from me. My vision went black, my body rigid with tension. A wordless scream fought its way out but no sound came, just a ripple of dissipating power. A pair of thudding booms looped around each other, one quieter but much faster than the other. Britney struggled, even in her sorrow and her knowledge of the inevitable. She struggled mightily until the last boom dwindled to little more than a whisper and finally stopped.

Sensations of cold and wet hit me at once as I gasped for breath. Ray came into focus slowly. He wiped my face, got my ponytail out of the way. I blinked water from my eyes, not sure if it was tears or what.

We were on the floor next to the sink. As I came back to awareness I realized Ray had pulled me from the dishwater and now held me tight. I realized other things too but I wasn’t ready to talk about them yet.

All I could think was, oh God, Britney. You poor girl.

* * *

Ray brought me a cup of coffee. It smelled awful but I drank it anyway, needing the caffeine. Daniel had done a good job of turning me into a coffee snob but right then I didn’t care. I sat in the back of Ray’s cruiser, huddled with a blanket around my shoulders, hair still wet. Somewhere in the parking lot a couple argued in Spanish, the woman increasingly agitated. A few city police cruisers had arrived, another sheriff’s deputy. Someone from the paper came and went quickly when they found out the disturbance was ghost-related.

Ray climbed in next to me. “Are you willing to give a statement?”

I attempted something meant to be a snicker but it came out more of a wheeze. “You willing to take one?”

He sighed. “I know the city police won’t. They’re too busy trying to keep Hector’s wife from killing him.”

“What’s that all about?”

“He flipped out after seeing the ghost. Admitted to a fling with Britney a couple of years ago.”

“Couple years ago? Not more recent?” I sipped at the coffee. God, it was terrible.

“Nah, he said over two years ago.” Ray eyed me for a long moment. “Why?”

“Just asking.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not good enough. Don’t start holding out on me now. I thought you were dying in there.” He stopped abruptly.

“She wasn’t trying to kill me. Not at all. I think it was the only way she could show me.” Though I would certainly have preferred some other method. Pictograms made of refried beans on the wall, semaphore. Anything.

“That was a hell of a way to show you whatever it was. Are you going to tell me? After the heart attack that damn near gave me, I think I have a right to know.”

“I’ll tell you but not here. And I want a shower first. I’m freezing and I think I have
pico de gallo
in my hair.”

“You do smell funny. So where to?”

“What, am I getting an escort?”

“I figure you’d refuse a trip to the emergency room but it’s either that or I keep an eye on you. I remember one time you passed out on me after doing magic. I don’t want that to happen again and you hit your head.”

His concern was unnerving but not in a bad way. More unexpected. What I did find disturbing was the thought of him going back to the lake house with me and possibly having to explain Daniel. Anything about Daniel. But I didn’t have any clothes with me and I wasn’t about to take a shower at his house and wear his clothes. “I’ll be fine. We can meet later.”

Ray wanted to argue, I could see it in the pinched look in his face. “Your buddy gonna be home?”

“Most definitely. He doesn’t get out much in the day.” Not without getting crispy.

The screaming got louder. I peered out the window, pretending to ignore Ray’s gaze on me. He said, “Okay, just give me a call when you get there. You start feeling bad, you pull over and call me or Daniel.”

Part of me wanted to insist I would be fine and do a little arguing myself but the truth was, I was touched. I knew the difference between a man trying to give me orders and a man showing concern for my welfare. Ray was doing the latter and I thanked him for it.

Daniel was still asleep when I got back to the lake house. Grateful for a little peace and quiet, I took a hot shower and thought things over. I replayed everything I’d felt while caught in that magical nexus or whatever it was with Britney’s ghost, wanting to be sure before I spoke my ideas aloud. Thinking of the coroner’s report and what wasn’t in it, I couldn’t be sure. But at the same time I was sure. I knew what I’d felt. It made me even more determined to have the séance and talk to Britney under controlled circumstances. With the coroner pretty obviously crooked it might be the only way of confirming my suspicion, even if it could never be entered into a court of law. Britney wanted someone to know and she’d chosen me. I intended to honor that.

By the time Daniel entered the kitchen, freshly showered and fully sober, I had coffee in the French press. Blessedly good coffee. I poured him a large cup. “You need to have your blood breakfast now, Bubba. Ray will be here soon.”

“What’s up?” He took the cup, adding milk, sugar, and blood.

I filled him in on what happened, telling him I’d explain the rest when Ray arrived. Daniel had just enough time to finish his coffee and a bag of O positive before that happened. To Daniel’s great delight, Ray brought a six pack of beer to share. I stuck to coffee. Once seated in the living room I got right to the point.

“Britney wanted me to feel what she felt at the end. Not to hurt me but I think to explain the haunting, why she can’t let go.” I looked at Ray. “The coroner, Holt, you need to lean on him. Hard. I think he left something out.”

“What?”

“There were two heartbeats.”

Daniel lowered his beer. “Shit.”

Ray lunged forward. “You telling me Britney Parker was pregnant?”

“I’m telling you I felt two heartbeats. If the coroner was bought off, then the only way to get an answer is a séance, if I can get her to calm down and talk to me. I think she can’t figure out how best to communicate with anyone.”

“You better believe I’ll be leaning on Martin Holt. And Mackie too. If anyone in that damn family will talk, it’ll be him.”

Daniel gave me a look. “I might be able to help with that.” He meant his vampire powers of persuasion. He didn’t like to compel people but he’d do it if he thought it was truly necessary, or if I asked. I wasn’t prepared to ask that of him yet. I’d done it in the past and knew I’d most likely take advantage of his ability in the future, but it left a bad taste in my mouth.

Breaking and entering, however, I was down with. “Ray, do you still work tomorrow night?”

The three of us worked out our plan. It wasn’t hard anymore to understand why Ray had taken this case so seriously. Somebody was going to regret that, and regret he’d gotten me involved. I’d felt Britney’s sorrow in those moments in the restaurant kitchen and it made me livid with rage. It made me want to take it out on somebody, and make them feel what that poor dead girl went through in her last heartbreaking moments.

Dear Roxanne,

I’ve made great strides in creating a rite that should rid you of the entity you summoned by accident. There will be complications, however. It will require a higher level of sacrifice on your part than I originally thought. I understand how attached you are to your auric vision but as it’s your strongest power it may be inextricably linked to this entity. As cancer frequently requires some amount of excision, banishing this entity may require a reduction of some of your powers. I can’t say it would be permanent. In fact I’m sure myself and the others here would be able to help you work toward regaining as much of your spectral vision as possible, as well as whatever other powers you might lose in the rite. I know this might seem terribly unfair to you but you have to understand this is the price those such as ourselves pay for experimenting with dark magic.

I was too busy cussing to read the rest. I had to close the laptop and walk away. The spring day was warm enough to be on the porch so with a sweater and a cup of coffee I made myself comfortable in the swing. As comfortable as I could be while seething.

The demon possession case that first brought me into contact with Blake also brought me into contact with the overdeveloped sense of self-importance that came out in his writing style. When searching for clues about how to deal with the demon, I’d found Blake’s grimoires. This was before I met him in person and my first real look into his head. I thought he was a pretentious asshole then and now the feeling came back. He’d let himself be mentored by a man who sounded like a sadistic son of a bitch. What kind of scars that left, I could only imagine. The same with the guilt about the deaths of the people he’d befriended to form a dark coven of sorts. Rozella had been a tough teacher but she’d never hurt me and never would have tolerated me hurting others.

She’d never have allowed someone to tell her to give up her power, either. Blake was deluded if he thought I would seriously consider anything like that. It made me wonder about the people he was mixed up with, about this old friend who ran the witchcraft school where Blake was currently taking yoga lessons, conducting his own classes on something or other, and plotting to
excise
my magical ability for my own good.

Between flashes of white hot anger, another emotion rose. Fear. Not that Blake would do something to me against my will. No, he had about as much chance of that as he did of breathing on Mars. It was fear for us. For the first time I had to admit to myself this might be a serious threat to our relationship. I wouldn’t give up Stack or my auric vision or any of my magical ability. Frankly, I wasn’t sure it was even possible. Even if it was, I would not do it. Stack might be a pain sometimes but he was no danger to me or anyone else. If I couldn’t make Blake see he was wrong about Stack, I didn’t see how we could keep going.

So I had to make him see, that’s all there was to it. His first meeting with Stack had not gone well. They’d have to meet again, this time with me there to referee.

The sound of a car approaching interrupted my thoughts. I looked up, expecting to see either Ray’s cruiser or his truck. Instead it was a dark blue minivan with a woman driving. She parked the massive thing crooked in the gravel drive and exited the vehicle, giving me a hopeful look and a wave as she made her way toward me. I waved back out of reflex, no idea who the woman was.

“Hi, Roxanne.” Apparently she knew who I was. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks.” I did my best to sound friendly, at least until she proved otherwise. “Can I help you?”

She stepped up to the porch and paused, allowing me the chance to take a good look at her. Average height, a little on the plump side of curvy, hair a brassy shade of bottle blond with nearly two inches of roots, sharp gray eyes in a face once pretty, now raw and worn. I still had no idea who she was.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” She could have been my age, I guessed, though I thought she looked older.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.” I pointed at the rocking chair opposite the swing. “Have a seat.”

She held out her hand. “Marlie Evans. It was Kline back then, Marlie Kline. I was a senior the year you were a freshman.”

I shook her hand and she sat. “The name rings a bell.” A big one too. Marlie Kline was part of a group of popular girls who liked to treat people like me as their own personal doormats. I didn’t know how to deal with that back then but I sure as hell did now. “Why are you here?”

Marlie heard the frost I didn’t bother to keep out of my voice. “I guess you do remember me, huh?” I didn’t answer. She looked away, staring out past her minivan. “I heard you were back. Heard you were.” There was a long pause. “Heard you had a business.”
              “I do. An online store.” I wanted to be petty and mean and throw her off Daniel’s porch but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Those sharp gray eyes and face that had once been pretty told a tale of things I’d managed to escape. Sympathy made me soften my tone. “Is there something you needed?”

“I can’t shop online.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “Not without my husband asking about what I been spending money on.”

“If you could shop online, what would you be buying from my little store? You like candles? Incense?”

Marlie met my eyes. “I like that fidelity spell kit you got.”

Sitting in Miss Rozella’s kitchen, either doing homework or learning roots and herbs. The tang of High John the Conqueror biting the air as she chopped a big hunk into smaller pieces for inclusion in mojo hands, the little red spell bags that even then were becoming my specialty. Music in the background, always music. Jimmy Reed, Muddy Waters, Al Green, Otis Redding. She’d sing along and teach me the words with the same care and devotion as when she taught me magic. An impatient knocking at the back door, quiet voices rising with desperation. People came to Rozella for all manner of problems. For the most part she’d take their money and try her best to help them. Until the online store, I’d rarely practiced that way and when I had it hadn’t worked out.

“Is that right?”

“I can pay cash. I get a little bit here and there, save it up. He don’t know.”

“I’ve got the stuff I need to make up one of those kits, no problem. And I’ll be happy to take your cash. But Marlie, you’ll have to do your part. Do you understand?”

She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. The skin was pink, and the whites of her eyes were the same. She’s spent the morning crying. “I think so. Tell me.”

“I can sell you the spell kit and tell you what all you need to do and how to do it, but you have to go through with it. You’ll need some of his hair. It can be from a hairbrush. For the other half of the spell you’ll need something connected to the woman he’s cheating with. A picture will do.”

She thought for a moment. “I found a picture on his phone. I think I know how to get it and print it off. Will that work?”

“It’ll work just fine. You have to want it, too. You have to believe it can work. You can pray too, as part of it, if you want. You know that, right? I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing something wrong.”

“I have prayed. I’ll keep praying. I just.” A sob slipped out, tired and worn. “I just want him to stop. I just want things to be the way they used to be with us.”

“I know.” I stood, opened the door and held it for her. “Come on in. I’ll make you a cup of coffee. Get the kit together and tell you how to set it all up.”

Marlie paused at the door. “I know I wasn’t very nice to you in school. I’m sorry for that.”

“It was a long time ago.”

She nodded. “Still, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d run me off. Thank you for helping me.”

“How’d you find me, anyway?”

“It’s the biggest thread on the Blythe Grapevine right now. Last time I looked there were about three dozen or so comments.”

“What’s the Blythe Grapevine?”

“You ever heard of Grapevine?” I shook my head as I ushered her inside. She said, “It’s this site, pretty much a gossip site for small towns. No telling how many towns all over have their own forum. You’re the hot topic on the Blythe forum. The thread is called hoodoo woman.”

“An internet gossip site for small towns? For real?”

“Oh yeah. There’s all kinds of stuff on it.”

“Well. It really is the twenty-first century, isn’t it?”

As soon as I had her dealt with and gone I planned to take a look at the site. This hoodoo woman thread would be my first stop, no doubt, but I’d be looking for any and every mention of Britney Parker as well. I knew from experience there was no gossip quite like small town gossip. Imagine if this Grapevine site had a decent search function.

I had a mental image of a digital version of one of the ladies, any of the ladies, from
Steel Magnolias
pulling up gossip threads. Twenty-first century, indeed.