Witches of Bourbon Street (8 page)

I took a moment to process what he said. Torn from him would suggest he couldn’t sense me anymore. Had I recoiled into myself? Probably. I slid off Kane’s lap, relieved he didn’t try to stop me. Telling them about that day had helped, made me stronger, like I was in control. I stood and faced Kane. “I’m okay. I think you should check the doors and security cameras. I don’t know why Dan was here or why he appeared to be reliving that day, but I’m certain it was him. What we went through that day and how he felt isn’t something I’d forget or confuse.”

Kane stood. “I have a good idea what he was doing here. What I don’t know is why.”

Pyper and I stared at him, waiting.

He opened the office door. “Come with me.” Clasping my hand in his once more, he led us into the middle of the club near the stage.

“Where did those come from?” Pyper asked.

“What?” I whirled. But she didn’t need to answer. Lined up against the wall were three life-sized voodoo dolls, only instead of being generic, they each had very distinct faces. They were cute, even. I was about to say so when one caught my attention. Without thinking, I found myself standing in front of her with my hand stretched out.

“What are you doing?” Kane pulled my arm back.

Startled, I stepped back and blinked. “I don’t know.” Had there been some sort of magnetic pull, or had it been my imagination?

“Why would Dan put giant voodoo dolls in here?” Pyper asked.

I frowned.

Kane and Pyper were arguing about how Dan may have gotten in when I interrupted them. “Hey.” I pointed to the doll in front of me. “Take a look at her. What do you see?”

Pyper gasped. “Oh my God. It’s Felicia, only without half her face burned off.”

“And I’m pretty sure the others are Meri and Priscilla.”

Kane nodded. “Right. Now you know why I was so worked up.”

I squinted and moved closer. Then I stopped breathing. “Guys,” I whispered. “Meri’s the demon from yesterday’s vision.”

“You’re kidding,” Pyper said, shock replacing her curiosity.

“What?” Kane asked, confused.

I sank into a chair, staring at the black-haired doll. The characterization was spot-on with her long, straight hair and gray eyes, but it was the sewn-on expression that made it clear the doll was her. High arched-eyebrows, defined cheek bones, and slightly puckered lips. I’d know her anywhere.

“You sure?” Pyper asked.

I nodded.

“Can someone fill me in please?” Kane demanded.

Oh. Right. I hadn’t actually given Kane the details, since I’d passed out before he’d arrived the night before. Then this morning, I’d left for work before he’d woken up. And let’s face it. I hadn’t wanted to talk to him anyway after the Lailah dreamwalk incident. The irritation from the night before came roaring back. I pushed it aside. This was much more important than some dream right now.

Kane stayed silent through my entire explanation. When I finished, he just stared at me.

“What?”

He cocked his head and eyed the Meri voodoo doll. “You’re saying this doll represents a demon? And that your mother helped two witches summoned her, causing your mother’s disappearance?”

“Yes. I mean, no. They were
trying
to summon an angel, except she’d already fallen and had become a demon.”

“Didn’t Felicia say the three of them were sisters? Doesn’t that mean these other two are angels also?” Pyper asked, confusion pinching her face.

I shrugged. “I guess they could be.”

Kane shook his head. “Not likely. Angels are born into witch families and are very rare. It’s unheard of to have two in the same generation.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “I dated Lailah.”

Jealousy coiled in my belly. Was it wrong to hate an angel?

“Why do you think Dan brought these here? I mean, what’s the purpose?” Pyper moved in front of me, getting closer to inspect Felicia.

“That’s the question of the hour,” I said. Felicia’s warning came roaring back. Had she meant Lailah? And would her involvement with Dan be the cause of her downfall?

I was about to voice my concern when Pyper traced her finger over the stitched X on the left side of the Felicia lookalike. As she did, a soft white glow encompassed her and the doll. It appeared suddenly, and when Pyper pulled her hand away, it vanished. Considering her and Kane’s non-reaction, I had to believe I was the only one who had the ability to see it.

When Pyper stepped back, I couldn’t help myself. After what happened with the portrait, touching the doll was a stupid thing to do, but I had to know. Before I even made contact, the light, airy, familiar essence merged with my own, a comfortably warm sensation. My fingertips grazed the X and everything intensified.

Memories flashed through my mind: A child’s stuffed puppy, ragged and loved in the bed; mixing up a batch of cookies while Mom chanted spells over a bowl of herbs; a first kiss with a boy named William. I jerked back as if I’d been burned.

Kane’s hands grabbed my shoulders, and he steadied me. “Why do you insist on doing that?”

“I didn’t…I mean, it wasn’t planned.” My voice seemed far away as I processed what had happened. I turned to Pyper, who was leaning against the stage. “Did you feel anything?”

She shook her head. “Nothing but the cotton they used to stuff her with.”

“I thought so.” I walked behind the bar and poured myself a tall glass of water. What I really wanted was a Guinness, but now was so not the time. After draining the glass, I looked up, not surprised to see Kane and Pyper staring at me. I sighed. “That voodoo doll has witch energy trapped in it.”

Pyper frowned. “I didn’t know witches messed with voodoo dolls.”

“They don’t,” I said. “Or at least, I’ve never known one to. But the Felicia clone not only has traces of witch energy, she also carries memories.”

“What?” Kane strode to the hanging dolls. “That’s it. These need to go.”

He grabbed the rope Felicia dangled on and almost had it over her head when I cried, “Stop.”

He let go of her immediately, and the blinding light that had encased him vanished. He spun, staring at me expectantly.

“They aren’t evil. We have to help them.” I pushed him out of the way and started carefully untying the Felicia doll.

“Jade.” Kane put a hand on my arm, but I barely noticed. Felicia’s young life was flashing through my mind: Her sitting in a wood-sided house on a hot day, eating oranges with another young girl; playing in a cool river, laughing off a warning to be careful of water snakes; dancing close with a young man in a large barn as a teenager while a band played country music for the growing crowd.

“Jade!” Kane shook me.

I dropped Felicia into a nearby chair and looked at him, tears filling my eyes.

He wrapped his arms around me. “It’s okay, baby. You’re fine now.”

Trying to pull back, a small chuckle escaped my throat when he tightened his embrace, not willing to let me go. I brushed a soft kiss across his lips and said, “I’m okay.” After the portrait incident, I couldn’t blame him for being protective. But this time was different. “Sorry.” I gently separated myself from Kane and flashed them both a smile. “It’s not what you think. That doll is infused with Felicia’s happy memories. Everything coming from her is joy. There isn’t anything evil about it.”

“Except that her happiness is trapped in a voodoo doll,” Pyper said, voice laced with disgust.

Pyper’s words sank in. Turning to the other two dolls, I sent out my energy. Faint traces of their contentment pressed against my psyche, confirming my suspicions. Suddenly, I found myself sitting in one of the velvet chairs, holding my head in my hands.

What the hell was going on? Had all their positive emotions been stripped from the portraits and embedded into the dolls? If so, then by who and, more importantly, why? And how was Dan involved? He hadn’t even a trace of supernatural ability. I would know after living with him for two years.

I glanced up to see Pyper and Kane staring at me. “What?”

“You know, none of this stuff started happening until you showed up.” Pyper’s lips twisted into a curious smirk.

“Pyper,” Kane warned in a hushed tone. “It’s not her fault her ex is a psycho.”

It could be my fault. He’d been tortured as a fifteen-year-old because of me. Then I’d lied to him for years about my empath ability, basically spying on his deepest emotions without his knowledge. When I’d finally come clean, I’d witnessed firsthand the sense of betrayal and personal invasion he’d experienced. After that, he’d changed into someone I didn’t even recognize. I suppose he saw me the same way. But I wasn’t intentionally messing with voodoo dolls. At least, not yet.

I stood. “We have to put them somewhere safe.”

Kane’s eyebrows rose as he contemplated me. “Why?”

“Why are boys so stupid?” Pyper reached out and picked Felicia up out of the chair. “Because if someone with a fetish for stick pins gets a hold of these, we could end up with another Roy on our hands.”

She was right. I moved to help her, but she shooed me away. “I got this. We don’t need you getting whisked away into more memories. Your face goes slack and you start to resemble a post-op lobotomy patient.”

“Lovely.” I moved back toward the bar to deter myself from touching any of the dolls again. I wasn’t scared. Everything about them was pleasant, inviting even. My heart swelled with warmth as I remembered the little girl laughing in the river. But that’s what made it so dangerous. Anything could go wrong. When messing with the mystical plane, even the best of practitioners made mistakes. Being an empath—and quite possibly a white witch, if Lailah and Bea were to be believed—meant that dealing with any unknown curses left me particularly vulnerable. And make no mistake; joy sucked out of trapped spirits was a curse. A dark one.

Pyper and Kane started carting the dolls toward the back door.

“Where are you taking them?” I asked.

“My place,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s the only logical choice.”

I nodded. I couldn’t take them. Kane wouldn’t risk having them at his house since I spent so much time there. Leaving them in the club was out of the question. Too many people coming and going. Still, I hated the thought of her spending time with the cursed dolls. Just because she didn’t have any natural intuitive or magical abilities didn’t mean she wasn’t susceptible to wayward curses. “Lock them in the spare room and don’t touch them any more than you have to,” I called back.

A moment before the back door clicked closed, I heard Pyper’s faint reply. “Yes, Mom.”

I pulled out my phone and called Kat. Crap! Voicemail. I disconnected and sent her a short text:
Where are you? Call ASAP
.

When Pyper and Kane returned, I said, “Come on. We need to talk to Bea about this.”

Chapter 7

The tires of Pyper’s VW Bug squealed when Kane rounded the corner onto Bea’s street in the Garden District. The car bounced over a pothole, and a teeth-grinding scrape of metal against asphalt made me wince.

“Sorry,” he said.

Pyper scowled. It was a testament to her restraint that she hadn’t clubbed him after he cut off a dozen cars and possibly lost her muffler in one of the road craters.

There was no way to avoid the gaping holes in the narrow streets. You’d think being the Garden District, the city would do something about the failing roads. No such luck. He should have slowed down, but my desire to see Bea had me secretly pleased Kane was impersonating a Formula One race car driver.

We pulled up to Bea’s gate a mere seven minutes after we’d left Wicked. The French Quarter wasn’t far, but not that close, considering the street lights on Saint Charles.

“If there’s any damage, one scratch, you’re paying for it and a rental car while it gets fixed,” Pyper seethed from the back seat while we waited for the gate to inch open.

Kane ignored her and sped through the barely open gate, past the main residence, and screeched to a stop in front of Bea’s tiny carriage house.

Thank you
, I mouthed to him and jumped out before either had even undone their seatbelts. “Bea?” I called through the screen door.

“In here, dear,” her voice floated from inside.

The screen door shut with a soft click behind me.

Bea sat at her kitchen table, grinding dried herbs. “What a nice surprise. Let me get you something to drink.” She rose, but I waved her down.

“I’ll get it.” The act of finding glasses and filling them with ice gave me a moment to collect my thoughts. So much had happened in the last few days, I hardly knew where to start.

By the time I had the iced tea ready, Kane and Pyper had joined Bea at the table.

Pyper, God bless her, jumped right into the thick of things. “Bea, is it possible to trap a spirit in an object?”

Bea put down her pestle. “You mean magically bind a spirit to something?”

Pyper nodded.

“Sure. If the witch is powerful enough.”