Witches of Bourbon Street
Jade Calhoun was never fond of her empath abilities. Now she’s discovered she has another gift she’d rather not unwrap—magic. But when her mentor, Bea, becomes gravely ill and insists Jade’s the only one who can help, she’s forced to embrace her witchy side.
It’s too bad she spent a decade shunning the magical community and never learned to harness her powers. Because time’s run out. A trapped spirit has revealed a clue to Jade’s long-lost mother. The resident angel has gone rogue and disappeared with Jade’s boyfriend, Kane. And if that wasn’t enough, her ex appears to be possessed.
To save any of them, Jade will need to find a way to control her inner white witch—without succumbing to black magic. Otherwise, she’ll lose everything…including her soul.
Witches of Bourbon Street
A Jade Calhoun Novel
Deanna Chase
Bayou Moon Publishing
Copyright © 2012 by Deanna Chase
First Edition 2012
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2012901712
ISBN: 978-0-9837978-2-1
Trade Paperback
ISBN: 978-0-9837978-3-8 ePub Version
Cover and Interior Design: The Printed Page, Phoenix, AZ
Cover image: © Detelina
Petkova — Fotolia.com
Cover image manipulation: Kyle Crichton
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Haunted on Bourbon Street Excerpt
A huge thank you to Lisa Liddy, Jennifer Spiller, Angie Ramey, Susan Sheehan, and Rhonda Helms. Your help and tireless work on this project means the world to me. Thank you to my family. Your love and support has never gone unnoticed. And to Greg, my heart is with you always.
I sat cross-legged in Bea’s cheery, yellow living room, trying not to scowl. White witch, my ass. After two hours of trying to manipulate my so-called power, I was ready to tell Bea and her nephew, Ian, exactly what they could do with their magic lessons.
Only, I couldn’t.
While battling with an evil spirit three months ago, Bea’s energy had been compromised, and she’d never recovered. For some ungodly reason she was convinced I was a witch and the answer for a cure.
I took in the dark circles rimming her eyes and her pale, waxy skin. The vibrant southern lady I’d come to admire had been replaced by a tired shell of an elderly woman destined for a retirement village.
All my irritation vanished. I had to do something. Anything.
Determined to get it right this time, I held one hand out to Bea and the other to Ian. Sweat trickled the length of my nose. It clung to the tip before landing silently on the patchwork area rug. For the hundredth time that day, I opened my senses, trying to harness Ian’s energy and hold it in my awareness long enough to transfer it to Bea. Ian’s anxious anticipation pressed against my skin, making me flinch.
“Focus, Jade,” Bea said. “Remember what I said about compartmentalizing.”
Stop focusing on what Ian is feeling, and focus on his essence.
When I’d given her a blank look, she’d gone on to explain: The essence of an individual is made up of both their soul and spirit. Spirit is basically life energy, while the soul is what gives a person the ability to feel compassion, love, and all the things that make one human.
Okay. Essence. I could do that. I’d done it before, only I’d thought of it as emotional energy. Somewhere in the corner of my mind, I closed the door on my empath ability. The three of us sat there holding sweaty hands as I tried to mentally connect with Ian. As usual, nothing happened. All right. Time for a new tactic. Instead of trying to get into his head, I concentrated on his heart. Slowly, the threads of Ian’s inner light started to tickle my senses. I imagined a siphon attached to a glass beaker and focused on capturing the essence Bea needed to be strong again. A swirly mist started to fill my beaker.
Success! After weeks of instruction, I’d finally grasped the technique Bea insisted I had the skill to master. Elation caused me to redouble my efforts.
With a full container of mist, I turned my attention to Bea, intent on sending her nephew’s strong energy into her being. Instantly, my imaginary beaker exploded. Ian’s hard-won healing essence evaporated into nothing.
“Damn it,” I growled.
“Negativity won’t help anything, dear.” Bea slumped back against her sunflower print loveseat.
Argh! I yelled in my head and looked at Ian helplessly.
He wiped his face with a cloth handkerchief and stood. “I’m getting some more tea. Anyone else?”
“Please.” I pulled my shirt away from my body and leaned toward the oscillating fan to my left.
Ian studied his aunt. “Bea? Tea or water?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” She rose gracefully to her feet then settled into the loveseat under a ray of sunshine. She tilted her face, warming it in the light. With each passing day, her ability to stay warm diminished, and despite the stifling heat, she wore black slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, topped with a cardigan sweater.
Just looking at her raised my internal temperature ten degrees. I stood. “I’ll be outside. I need a break.”
“I’ll meet you out there,” Ian said from the kitchen.
With effort, I managed to not slam the French door behind me as I escaped to the screened-in patio. The overhead fans rotated full force, showering me with a steady stream of much-needed air. I sat directly beneath one and stared out onto the perfectly manicured lawn, edged with a vibrant bed of hibiscus plants. What else would one expect from a carriage home in the Garden District of New Orleans?
While it was still beautiful, I missed the variety of colorful annuals that had long since given up in the summer heat. I’d offered to help Bea with the fall garden, but she’d waved me off, saying I had better things to do with my time.
Like figure out how to energy meld. After banishing Roy—an evil spirit who used to haunt the club in my building—Bea had never fully recovered, leaving her cold and weak. When her doctor didn’t find anything wrong, he’d prescribed a vitamin regimen. It wasn’t helping, though Bea had said all along she knew it wouldn’t. Her essence had been zapped, and there were only two ways to restore it: time or the help of another witch. But not just any witch. Apparently it took a white witch. Something both Bea and Lailah—her shop assistant—insisted I was. I didn’t agree. I’m an empath, someone who can read others’ emotions, not a witch. Or at least not a powerful one, judging by my lack of ability to transfer Ian’s energy to Bea.
The door squeaked and Ian’s frustration reached me before he did. “It’s not working.” He handed me a tall glass of sweet tea and sat down opposite me, stretching out his long, gangly legs.
“I told you not to get your hopes up.” I took a long sip and didn’t make eye contact.
“If you had a better attitude, it would help.”
My head snapped up. I opened my mouth, ready to let him know exactly what I thought of his opinion, but closed it. The fatigue etched around his pale blue eyes gave him a hollowed-out, almost ghostly appearance. If he hadn’t been so worried about his aunt, it would have been funny, considering his obsession with ghost hunting.
I breathed deeply, trying to release some of my bottled-up frustration. “I’m trying.”
“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I only meant positive energy flows more freely and all that crap.” He brushed back his sweat-dampened, sandy blond hair.
I laughed. “All that crap?”
He shrugged, giving me the first real smile I’d seen on him in days. I searched for a resemblance of the man I’d met three months earlier, after a ghost scare in my apartment. That day he’d been all smiles, easygoing, and dressed in all black, looking very much like a pro skateboarder. Today he wore khaki shorts and a pinstriped, button-down, short-sleeved cotton shirt. Only the Converse shoes remained from his previous persona.
“What’s with the makeover? I thought T-shirts and jeans were all you owned,” I teased.
He glanced down at his shirt, looking pained. “I’m a little behind on laundry. Plus, with the heat in there, this is a little cooler.”
Sobering, I leaned in. “She’s getting worse, isn’t she?” It seemed each time I saw her, Bea got a little paler and a little thinner. If I couldn’t master the energy meld soon and transfer some healthy energy to her…I didn’t want to finish the thought.
Ian nodded. “I’ve been noticing her decline for the last few weeks. But I don’t understand it. Enough time has gone by that she should be getting better.”
I bit my lip. “Maybe it’s her age. Older folks don’t bounce back as easily.”
“She’s not that old. In her sixties, I think. She makes sure none of us know what year she was really born in.”
I smiled at that. Bea owned a new age shop in the French Quarter. From the outside it often embodied everything you’d expect a tourist shop to be. But one foot inside from someone with knowledge of the craft, and you knew she was one powerful witch. With that kind of skill, Bea could be eighty and no one would be the wiser. In fact, I’d guessed she was in her fifties. “Either way, with how strong she was, this doesn’t make sense.”
Ian rubbed his temples. When he dropped his hands, he looked me dead in the eye. “Ready to try again?”
No. My shirt was practically soaked through. I had plans with my boyfriend, Kane, in a few hours, and I’d promised to call my aunt Gwen before I went out. I pushed my chair back and grabbed my empty glass. “Let’s do it.”
Ian held the door for me. I set my shoulders and walked willingly back into the sauna that used to be Bea’s living room. After a stop in the guest bathroom to splash my face with cool water, I took my place on the area rug.
Bea slid to the edge of her seat and, with shaking arms, carefully lowered herself to the floor. The small effort left her winded.
I took her hand and peered into her eyes. “Tell me again why I can’t just transfer some of my own energy?” In the past, I’d been successful in replenishing both my own strength and the strength of others by tapping what I used to think of as emotional energy. I’d thought it was just part of my gift. But when Bea had explained the energy meld she was trying to teach me, she’d said I wasn’t transferring emotions at all. I was taking and receiving pieces of the inner essence we all possessed.
“Remember how weak you were the last time you loaned your strength to someone? Didn’t you tell me you’d drained yourself to the point you’d become bedridden?”
“But I can give you just a little, to at least help you feel a bit better?”
“No.” Her voice was full of conviction. “You don’t have control yet, and that’s why you exhaust yourself. Use Ian. You’ll learn something and you’ll both recover fast.” She held her hand out to her nephew and gave him a pointed look.
Joining our circle, he shot me a look that implied I’d better get to work.
With their hands in mine, I once again concentrated on Ian. His familiar essence flowed easier this time, and before I could devise a new way to capture it, the weight of it settled into my bones. I sat straight up as my nerve endings tingled, overflowing with the urge to move. It was too much. The energy meld had worked, only I’d accidentally absorbed it instead of transferring it to Bea.
“Release it now!” Bea commanded.
My head snapped in her direction. Rigid and ready to jump out of my own skin, I stared her down. She met my gaze, and suddenly my back arched as Ian’s essence was pulled from me.
Ian’s hand went slack in my death grip, but I couldn’t move my fingers to release him. I sat frozen, locked in Bea’s gaze until every last tingle faded to numbness. My body slumped forward. I sat there half-lying on the floor until Ian’s strong arms lifted me back into a sitting position.
“You okay?” he asked.
I lifted my weak head, giving him a small nod.
He cradled my head on his shoulder and whispered, “Look.”
Bea stood over us, her cardigan sweater shed, fanning herself with a book. “When did it get so warm in here?”
I smiled. “It’s about time you noticed.”
A low chuckle vibrated in Ian’s throat.
“Can you turn the temperature down now? Some of us don’t prefer a slow roast,” I teased. Though, for once, I wasn’t sweating. My hands and feet were still numb, and the rest of my body had started to tremble.
Ian’s arm tightened around me. “Don’t worry. Bea has a special vitamin that will pick you right back up.”
“Huh?”
“It kick-starts your inner strength.”
Right. I’d never heard of this so-called miracle pill. “Is it altered?”
He laughed. “It’s spelled, if that’s what you mean. Bea keeps them around for emergencies.”
I pushed myself away from his embrace. “No, thanks. I’ll recover on my own.”
Ian sat back and crossed his arms. “This again? You just did a spell. You’ve been trying to master it for how many days—no, weeks, now? And yet you won’t take a pill that will have you feeling right in no time because a witch enhanced it? I hate to tell you this, Jade, but you’re a witch, too. A white one. A very powerful one and, to be honest, you can’t afford to be drained.”
“Wha—”
“Don’t sass the girl. She just cured your aunt.” Bea handed me a tall glass of sweet tea and pointed the fan at Ian.
“Thank you.” I gulped down three-quarters of the liquid before coming up for air.
Bea’s smile turned to a grin. “No point trying to force a pill down her throat when tea will work just as well.”
I tilted my head in confusion then frowned as my nerve endings started to come back to life, reviving my extremities. My body started to hum, much in the way it did after a good workout at the gym. “Bea! Tell me you did not just drug me without my knowledge.”
“Heavens, no. I wouldn’t do that. I did crush up an enhanced vitamin, though. You needed it after that impressive display of energy work.”
Her satisfied smile made me want to scream. But as I took in her rosy cheeks and the glint that had been missing from her eyes, I softened and shook my head. “You know I don’t like to be manipulated.”
“Who does?” Bea called as she headed toward the back door. “I had to do something after you botched the essence transfer.”
“Botched? What do you mean? Looks like it worked to me. You’re upright, looking better than you have since the exorcism.”
“Yes, botched.” She opened the back door. “I’m not saying it didn’t work. In fact, I’d say it worked better than anyone expected it to. But I also told you not to transfer any of your essence. Too bad you don’t take direction well. Don’t worry—we can work on that.” The French door shut with a soft click.
I glanced at Ian. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
He patted my hand as if I were a five-year-old then got up and headed for the kitchen.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I called.
Ian poked his head back into the living room. “I know. This is why you need to study.”
I clamped my mouth shut and glared.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” He disappeared again, leaving me alone with my jaw clenched and arms folded tightly against my chest.
“A thank-you would have been nice,” I said to no one.
Frustrated, I grabbed my purse and left. From the yard, I gave Bea a terse wave before stalking off to the trolley stop on Saint Charles. Ian would’ve given me a ride home if I’d asked, but that would’ve involved talking to him.
My gut reaction to reject all magic had taken over my common sense. Again. I couldn’t help it. The memory of the coven leader standing on my doorstep that late summer night twelve years ago still brought tears to my eyes.
Her bloodless face, lined with despair, had frightened me more than the gut-wrenching fear and sorrow she hadn’t been able to hide from me. She’d tried. Her defenses had been in place, but she’d been too weak to hold any of it in. From what I’d learned, the leader had wielded so much magic that night she’d come within an inch of burning out.
I hadn’t cared. My mother had disappeared. Nothing else mattered.
My demands for her to return to the circle and cast until she found my mother had fallen on deaf ears. The leader stared at me with wide, empty eyes, allowing me to rage at her until my voice went hoarse. When I’d finally collapsed in a heap on my front step, she touched my forehead and whispered a spell. Through my sobs, I’d missed the incantation, catching only the familiar phrase I’d heard my mother say a million times before: “Blessed be, child.”
I’d fallen into a deep sleep and woke up two days later in the psychiatric hospital. The doctor said I’d suffered a mental break from traumatic grief. But it was a lie. I’d been spelled to save me from my immediate pain.
A week later, I moved into a foster home and never spoke to any of my mother’s coven members again. Despite a number of attempts from a few of them, I’d always refused. They were the reason my mother went missing. The group and the magic they loved so much. Neither had been welcome in my life after that. They still weren’t. But for Bea, I’d do what I had to.
I knew the herbal remedy she’d spiked my drink with was mostly harmless, and it had helped. I just had zero tolerance for all magic forms, especially when they were used on me without my knowledge. But Bea didn’t know that. No one did. My mom’s disappearance wasn’t something I talked about. It was too painful.
By the time I’d taken a shower and gotten ready for my date, my irritation had vanished. Bea had only been doing what she thought was best. It wasn’t her fault I had baggage. Still, after a day like mine, a girl deserved a little chocolate and wine. On my way to Kane’s, I stopped at a neighborhood market and picked up supplies.
Twenty minutes later, I used my key and called out as I let myself in Kane’s house.
“In here,” he answered from the kitchen.
I found him at the table with a stack of papers, a ten-key calculator, and his laptop.
“How’s my gorgeous witch this evening?” He reached for my hand after I dumped my haul on the island counter.
Rolling my eyes, I let him pull me into his lap and ignored the nickname. “Better now that I’m here.”
“Any progress?” A five-o’clock shadow lined his chiseled jaw and his dark, wavy hair stuck out in unruly clumps. I couldn’t resist smoothing it down.
A genuine smile tugged at my lips. “It finally worked. When I left, Bea was outside sprucing up her flower garden.”
“She’s better then?”
“Yes. And I’m free from witch training, spells, and all things supernatural.”
“Good.” He leaned in close, brushing his lips across my cheek until he found my mouth and sank into a deep, sensual kiss. His expert tongue darted sinfully over mine, exploring and stroking until I lost my breath. When he finally pulled back, he gave my lower lip a nip that initiated a small moan from the back of my throat. His words came out low and husky as his mocha colored eyes bored into mine. “Dinner’s ready.”
“If that’s dinner, I’m going to need seconds.”
He laughed and lifted me up as he stood. “No, that’s dessert. Dinner first.” He planted a light kiss on my forehead and strode over to the stove.
“Evil. Pure evil.” I put away the strawberries and chocolate and opened the wine. While setting out the plates, Kane retrieved dinner from the oven. Instantly, the mild spicy aroma of the kitchen turned into a meaty, roasted garlic mecca of goodness. “Oh, my. What did you make?”
“Short ribs over Cajun pasta with garlic mashed potatoes and roasted tomatoes for an appetizer.” He placed the meals on the counter next to a plate of baguette slices and then poured the wine. He eyed the Cabernet label. “Perfect.”
I smiled, helping myself to a generous amount of goat cheese for the bread. “Where did you learn to cook? Pioneer Woman?”
He paused before taking his first bite. “Who?”
“Never mind.” I chuckled then popped a tomato in my mouth and sighed in pleasure over the sharp tang of herbs and rich cheese.
“I used to help my grandmother on Sundays when I was a kid. It was our tradition. I kept it up through my teenage years out of obligation, but when I moved back after college, I realized I actually enjoyed it. So up until we lost her a few years ago, every Sunday afternoon was spent with Mamaw right here in her kitchen.”
A soft glow of joyous affection illuminated his skin, warming my hand where I touched him. My heart swelled, and I had to blink back the tears from the emotions welling in my chest. I’d known his grandmother had been important to him, but I hadn’t known just how much. “I wish I could have met her.”
He turned and cupped his hand over my cheek. “She would’ve adored you.”
“I doubt it. Considering the amount of time you spend at my place on Sundays, it sounds like she’d have resented the heck out of me.” Since Kane spent most Saturday nights at his club, Wicked, I’d gotten in the habit of using that time to focus on my glass bead business. Sometimes I worked at my apartment, but usually I could be found in my studio. It was often right before sunrise when Kane picked me up. It meant we slept late and stayed in bed even later, frequently not getting up until around dinner time.
His mocha eyes crinkled as his lips turned up in a rueful smile. “No doubt our current schedule would’ve been a conflict. We’d have figured something out.” He leaned in and kissed me, tasting of wine and garlic.
“Dinner is delicious,” I said.
“Compliments to Mamaw.”
“To Mamaw,” I echoed, turning my attention to the pile of papers on the table. “Looks like you’ve got a lot to do. Is that for the club?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve got a new financial client. His assets and portfolio are a mess. I told him I’d have a proposal for him in the morning.” His expression clouded as his regret washed over me.
“That’s too bad. I’d planned melted chocolate and strawberries for dessert.”
He groaned and his intense eyes caught mine. A flash of his desire shot through my middle, making me catch my breath. His elevated pulse confirmed my reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. Without speaking, he tugged me off the stool toward his bedroom.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished.”
“There’s more in the fridge.”
His lips closed over mine, cutting off my protests. Despite his implication of needing to work, we took our time undressing each other one piece of clothing at a time, using our lips to explore every inch of newly exposed skin. The passion we each harbored grew hot and fierce as we tumbled into his bed, forgetting everything but each other.
It was a long time before we lay wrapped together in a tangle of limbs, spent and languid. Kane ran his fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head. “I love you, pretty witch.”
I was too content to scold him for using the unwanted nickname. Instead, I traced the back of his fingers with my own and smiled into his chest. “I love you too, my pioneer man.”
He pulled me close, wrapped his arm over my middle. His good humor tickled my senses just before he fell asleep. I lay awake, listening to his steady breathing.
After some time, I finally faded into a restless dream state. A faint trace of humor grabbed my attention, and my fuzzy mind tried to focus on the familiar energy. Slowly, an image began to appear, shapeless at first, then transformed into a woman’s silhouette. I squinted, trying to make out her identity, and grinned when my mother appeared in our old kitchen back in Idaho.
She scooped a bunch of strawberries into a bowl and glanced at me. “Whipped cream or chocolate, Shortcake?”
“Mom,” my fourteen-year-old self moaned. “You have got to stop calling me that. I’m two inches taller than you.”
Her eyes twinkled as she lightly grabbed a handful of my strawberry-blond hair. “With a gorgeous color like this, you’ll always be my Shortcake.”
I pulled away, laughing and embarrassed at the attention.
She moved to our old-fashioned, robin-blue refrigerator that matched the porcelain sink. “So, which one?” She held up a bag of dark chocolate chips and a container of heavy whipping cream.
“Both.” I pulled out the double boiler to start melting the chocolate.
“That’s my girl.”
The dream faded, taking the warm, happy glow of the cherished memory with it. I woke feeling empty and alone, the way I always did after I dreamed of my mother.
A light shone under the bedroom door. I got up and followed it to the kitchen. Kane, with a serious case of bed-head, sat in front of his laptop, gripping a giant mug of steaming coffee.
The rich aroma made my stomach growl. “What time is it?”
“About two.” He yawned. “Did I wake you?”
“No. Just a dream.” I shuffled to the refrigerator and pulled out the strawberries. I scanned the shelves looking for cream, frowning when I came up empty. “How long have you been up?”
“A few hours. The proposal wasn’t going to write itself.” He tapped a few keys then paused as I pulled out a slow cooker from his cabinet. “What are you up to?”
“Dessert.” I sent him a small smile and dumped the chocolate into the pot. “Someone interrupted my dinner and I’m in need of a two a.m. snack.”
“Need help?”
“No, thanks.”
With the chocolate set to low, I washed the strawberries and took my time slicing them. How many times had I shared the activity with my mother? I couldn’t possibly say. It had been our favorite dessert. She’d always said, “It can’t be that bad. Look at all the fruit on the plate.”
Then I’d read her the fat grams from the heavy cream container. In response, she’d stuff a giant spoonful of freshly whipped cream in her mouth. The image always made me giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Kane came up behind me.
“Just something my mom used to do when I was a kid.” I grabbed a strawberry and dipped it in the melted chocolate. “Here.”
He took a bite, looking thoughtful. After a moment he opened the refrigerator, rummaged around a minute, and came up with a spray can of whipped cream. “Didn’t you once tell me this was your favorite dessert as a kid?”
I grinned. It wasn’t freshly whipped, but it would do.
***
The only bad thing about working at The Grind was the ungodly hours. Five a.m. should be outlawed. By nine-thirty I was ready for a serious nap. Stifling a yawn, I absently cleaned the espresso machine as the last of the morning rush filed out of the café.
The minute the door closed, Pyper swept her electric-blue-streaked dark hair into a bun and said, “I need a favor.”
“Sure.” I started wiping the counter down, but when she didn’t elaborate I paused and looked up. She stood at the counter, pretending to straighten a display of chocolate-covered espresso beans. The ones I’d just finished restocking.
She stilled when she realized I was watching. “Sorry. I was thinking.”
“I can see that.” I eyed her. Was she nervous? I’d never seen Pyper anything but all brass with confidence to spare.
“Are you guys busy tomorrow night? You and Kane, I mean?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think so. Unless he’s working at Wicked.” Technically, Kane’s professional job was a financial consultant. But he also owned the strip club next door. He had a manager to run it, but he wasn’t exactly a hands-off guy. At least when it came to the money end of things.
She waved a hand. “Charlie’s working. He doesn’t need to be there.”
I laughed. “Charlie does such a wonderful job running the place that he never needs to be there. But that doesn’t stop him. Or you, for that matter.” Pyper had been the manager prior to Charlie taking over, and even though Pyper didn’t need to spend half her life there, she still did. “You both need Workaholics Anonymous.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyway, tomorrow.” Her lips quirked into a shy smile and she blushed. Actually blushed. “Are you busy for dinner? I have someone I want you to meet.”
“Why, Pyper, have you met a man you want to introduce to the family? Or a woman?” I teased, remembering she didn’t discriminate when it came to love.
Her blush vanished and a glint lit her eyes. “Something like that. Seven okay?”
“Sounds good.” My phone buzzed and I pulled it from my pocket.
A text from my best friend, Kat, read: News alert, I’ve got a date!
I typed back: Awesome. Who with?
Almost instantly, she replied. Someone I’ve had my eye on for a while. I’ll call you later.
Smiling, I glanced at Pyper. “You’re not the only one with a new love interest—wait, is that who I think it is?” I pointed past her toward a tall, dark-haired man and a very familiar bohemian-chic woman standing in front of the café.
Pyper peered over the counter as the woman pulled the man into her arms and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Looks like Lailah’s found a boyfriend. It’s about time. I thought she’d never get over Kane. It’s been forever since they dated.”
I choked on an intake of breath. After a gulp of water, I spat out, “What the hell is she doing with Dan?”
Pyper’s eyes went wide. “Your ex?”
Transfixed on the scene outside, I barely heard her.
“Jade?”
“Huh?”
“You okay?”
“I…” The initial shock started to fade, but I couldn’t help but be annoyed. What the hell? Did everyone I know have to date him? We’d been together all through college and had almost gotten engaged before we’d destroyed our relationship. Not long after that he’d started dating Kat…until he assaulted me in the club a few months back and she dumped him. I turned on Pyper. “If you ever so much as even think about going out with Dan, I’m going to have to resign as your friend.”
She scoffed. “Date him? You’re kidding, right? Why would I ever go out with a homophobic asshole?”
Her matter-of-fact, flippant tone released the tightness in my chest as Lailah entered the café.
“Where’s the douche canoe?” Pyper asked her.
I opened my mouth, but laughter bubbled out in the form of a chuckle.
“Um, what?” Lailah asked.
“The douche canoe. Jade’s ex. The guy you were slobbering all over.” Pyper stood with her hands on her hips, staring Lailah down.
Lailah set her purse on the counter. Her normal light, intuitive energy turned thick as a tiny amount of irritation escaped her essence. “You mean Dan?”
I sobered and mirrored Pyper in her confrontational stance. “Yes, Dan.”
She gritted her teeth. “I’m not dating him. It’s…” She looked around, no doubt checking to see if we had any patrons. “I’m working with him.”
“Didn’t look like work to me,” Pyper mumbled.
“On what?” I asked.
“It’s confidential.”
Pyper and I stared at her.
“I’d tell you if I could, but—” she raised a finger and pointed skyward, “—it’s angel business.”
“Oh. Right,” Pyper said with a snort.
“Look, I just came in to say hello and order a chai, but if I’m not welcome—”
“No, no. It’s fine.” I went to work on her drink, trying very hard to not say anything. She’d told us once she was a low-level angel, but none of us knew what the heck that meant. And she hadn’t explained other than to say she could wield spells, but didn’t really need incantations and potions. What any of that had to do with Dan, I didn’t know, but I was dying to find out.
While I steamed the milk, I studied the angel. “How does it work? Do you have assignments?”
“I’m sorry, Jade. I can imagine you’re curious, but I really can’t talk about it.”
I shrugged, feigning disinterest. Then I remembered, while she wasn’t an empath, she had enough intuitive energy that she could see right through me. I sighed and finished her drink. Just as I placed it on the counter, the door swung open and in walked Dan.
He strode right up to the counter, ignored Lailah, and stared pointedly at me. “Jade.”
“Dan.” I backed up, even though the coffee bar and another three feet separated us. “Pyper will take your order.”
“I don’t want anything, thank you. I’m here to see you.”
Pyper stepped forward. Her protectiveness came through loud and clear. I placed a hand on her arm to stop her before she said anything.
The last few times I’d run into Dan, he’d been a real prick. Today there was something different about him. I studied him, trying to figure it out. After a moment it hit me. His emotions were under tight control.
A twinge of guilt settled in my gut, but I sent my energy out anyway. It was an invasion of privacy, and the reason Dan and I had broken up, but if I was going to talk to him, I needed to know his state of mind.
With his emotions locked down, it was hard to get a read. On the surface, he was doing a very good job of projecting a layer of calm. There was something else there, though, and it tugged at my senses. What was it? Arrogance? Determination? Maybe a little of both. I pushed deeper. Fear. Deep-seated fear.
Why in the world would Dan fear me? That’s when it hit me. My gift. He feared I’d know exactly what he was feeling. Crap. He was right. Instantly, I erected the imaginary glass barriers I used when I wanted to shield myself from unwanted emotions. It probably wasn’t necessary since he was keeping his in check, but it made me feel better.
“What do you want, Dan?” I asked in a measured tone.
He took a deep breath. “To apologize.”
His words hit me in a wave of confusion. I stared at him in disbelief.
“I know I did and said some terrible things after we broke up. I have no excuse. I won’t even try. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.”
His words and tone were so much like the Dan I’d been friends with, and then dated all those years, that when he held his hand out, I automatically took it without thinking.
He gripped my hand, shaking it, and continued to apologize. I didn’t comprehend a word. My hand started to smolder in a slow burn in all the places his skin touched mine.
“Let go!” I yanked my hand back, cradled it against my chest.
“What the hell?” Pyper stepped in front of me, shielding me from Dan’s view. She turned on Lailah. “Get him out of here.”
“But,” Dan said, “it’s part of my anger management classes.”
“What? Crushing her hand?” Pyper asked.
“I didn’t…Jade, are you okay?” The softness in Dan’s voice went against everything I’d felt coming from him. The burn had been a reflection of his inner self. The mark of a man marinating in toxic energy.
“I’m fine.” I craned my neck to see around Pyper. The concern in his eyes made me look away. “You should go.”
A moment later the bell on the door chimed, signaling they had left.
“What the hell just happened?” Pyper demanded.
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
The grooves in the metal ladder pinched the arch of my bare foot, making me wince as I reached forward and secured the portrait to the wall. “If I’d known you’d have me doing manual labor, I would have worn more suitable shoes,” I called down to Kane.
“Sorry.” He gave me a rueful smile. “I forgot I’d promised Charlie I’d help with the promo stuff for the Halloween party.”
“Hey, Charlie.” I glanced over my shoulder at the club manager. She’d recently clipped her shocking red hair, and it stood up in random gelled spikes. Her slim build and heart-shaped face made her perfect for a career as a high-fashion model. Instead, she spent all her time managing the club and working her way through business school. “I hear it’s your fault I’m on this death trap in my little black dress.”
Her appreciation tickled my skin the way it always does when she’s feeling flirty. “Girl, if that skirt was a few inches shorter, we could turn you and that ladder into a new act.”
Kane chuckled and tilted his head for a better view of my backside.
I turned back to the portrait, ignoring both of them. Every few days one of them made a crack about recruiting me to work at Wicked. On occasion I helped out tending bar, but stripping was never going to happen and they both knew it.
“I think we’re out of luck,” Kane said to Charlie.
“You never know,” she mused. “I could spike her drink next week at the party. Then maybe we’ll see some of that peachy flesh.”
“For God’s sake.” I choked through my laughter. “That’s enough embarrassment for one night.” My already warm face burned hotter as Kane’s desire caressed my psyche. Last night’s dreamwalk flashed in my mind, making all my sensitive places ache. My eyes met Kane’s and I knew he was remembering our encounter. It had been one of the rare occasions when we hadn’t spent the night together. But since Kane is a dreamwalker, and can consciously will himself into my dreams, it hadn’t slowed down our sex life. On the contrary, the things he’d done to me… Mmm.
Charlie rapped her knuckles on the bar. “Are you two horn dogs done mentally undressing each other? ’Cause we’ve got about twenty minutes to finish this before the doors open.”
“You started it,” Kane said, still gazing at me.
Stop, I mouthed to him and climbed down the ladder. Stepping back, I cocked my head to one side. “How does it look?”
The grotesque, mixed media 3-D portrait of papier-mâché and acrylic epoxy featured a wrinkled hag staring down at us, one eye wide open and the other squinted. Her long, narrow nose sat slightly off center directly over an oversized, chipped tooth. The only two redeeming qualities were her thick, auburn-brown hair and the deep emerald green of her eyes.
“Ah, Priscilla, you’re looking especially fierce,” Charlie said.
“Priscilla?” I asked.
“Yep. Her name’s etched in the frame. That’s Meri—” she pointed across the room to a skeletal-faced hag, “—and this is Felicia.” Charlie held up a third portrait. The woman would have been beautiful, with her Caribbean blue eyes and silky blond hair, had it not been for half of her face peeling off.
“Jeez. Poor Felicia. It must have been quite a blow to her ego to be given such a deformity.” I grimaced, following Kane as he moved the ladder.
Charlie’s lips twitched. “She’s my favorite.”
I shook my head. “Do you ever stop?”
“Nope. Now get your skinny ass back up on that ladder so we can get this done.”
After I tied my hair back, I climbed up one more time and held my hand out. Kane handed me Felicia, and I secured her frame to the wall. As I was straightening the unusual piece of art, a foreign stream of sadness filtered through my being. I stiffened. Emotional energy has a distinct imprint specific to each person. The sadness didn’t belong to Kane or Charlie, which meant either a stranger was in the club, or we had another ghost.
I turned and studied the empty room. “Did someone just pop in for a moment? One of the dancers, maybe?”
“No. Why? Did you hear something?” Kane scanned the room.
“No, I thought I sensed someone new. I could’ve been mistaken.” But I had sensed someone. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and opened my awareness. Stale, gritty lust crawled over my skin. Great, now I needed a shower.
There was a reason I usually avoided the club. Even when it was empty, it retained a sexual imprint of its past patrons. I did my best to push the lust aside and focused on Charlie. Her normal playfulness now housed a thread of worry as she studied me. I forced a smile and shut the door on her energy.
Kane’s wouldn’t be so easy. Ever since we’d gotten together, I could tap into his emotions as if they were my own, making it virtually impossible to fully block him out. I could push it aside, but when he was near me, I always knew how he was feeling, whether I wanted to or not. It was one of the reasons I’d refused to move in with him, even though he’d asked. Sometimes I just needed my own head space.
The longer I remained silent, the more his trepidation grew. “It’s all right,” I said. “Nothing’s here.”
“You’re sure?” he asked.
It was a reasonable question. Three months ago, I’d been in a coma while, Roy, the evil ghost and former owner of Wicked, kept me locked in another dimension. Roy had first captured Pyper after a failed spell by Lailah. I’d managed to free her by tapping her emotional energy, but had, unfortunately, taken her place in the process. The only reason I’d escaped was because Kane had pulled most of our friends into a dreamwalk, and combined with Bea’s powers, we’d been able to banish him to Hell. Once you’ve gone through something like that, anything seems possible.
“I’m sure.” I smiled reassuringly at the pair of them and turned back to the portrait. “Let’s finish this. Is she straight?”
“A little to the left,” Charlie said.
The peeling paint was rough on my fingertips as I nudged the frame.
“A little more.”
I pushed harder. The frame swung wildly, and I grasped it with both hands to keep it from falling. “Oops.” I straightened it. The earlier foreign emotional energy returned, this time full of glee. I yanked my hands back. The glee vanished. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” the pair below said in unison.
I climbed down off the ladder, keeping my eyes on the blue-eyed, disfigured beauty. “There’s someone in that portrait.”
“What?” they said again.
“The foreign energy is coming from her. That weird art project has something…or someone trapped in it.” Could this be happening again? We’d just gotten rid of two spirits. I sure as heck didn’t want to deal with another one. I turned to Kane. “Can you move the ladder? I want to probe the other two.”
His expression and energy betrayed his skepticism, but he did as I asked. When I was in position, I deliberately placed both hands on Priscilla’s frame. A stirring of curiosity trickled up my arms. I gripped tighter, but didn’t tap into anything else. As soon as I let go, the curiosity disappeared. Interesting.
I repeated my experiment with Meri, but no amount of probing produced anything. I climbed off the ladder and sat in one of the blue, crushed velvet chairs. “That’s weird. The first two give off energy, but Meri doesn’t.”
“Are you sure it was coming from the portraits?” Charlie sat beside me and downed a shot of amber liquid. The sweet aroma of rum filled the air.
I rubbed my forehead. “I think a couple of ghosts are trapped in those frames.”
“Huh,” Charlie said. “I guess there is something to that rumor.”
“Which one?” I asked.
“The one about the three ugly ghosts.”
A vague memory of Kane explaining the club’s tagline surfaced. The marquee out front read: Hundreds of beautiful women and three ugly ones. When I asked what it meant, Kane had said they were ghosts. Later, he had assured me it was an urban legend made up for the annual Halloween party.
“But I only felt two.” I frowned.
She shrugged. “Maybe Meri followed someone home.”
***
“She was joking,” Kane said over his menu. “She found those portraits at a secondhand store last week and bought them for the Three Ugly Women costume party the club is having on Halloween.”
“Costume party?” I peered at him over my wine glass.
“Each year we have an Ugly Woman contest. The ladies dress up in their scariest, ugliest costumes, and at midnight they strip, unveiling their natural beauty. The crowd votes on the best costumes and the dancing. The winner gets a weekend stay at one of the hotels in the French Quarter. Plus she gets crowned Halloween Queen and all the free drinks and lap dances she wants.”
“Sounds fun,” I said dryly.
He laughed. “It is.”
“So what do the portraits have to do with it?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. Charlie saw them and thought they’d be good decorations for the event.”
They would have been great for the party, but after my revelation, Kane had taken them down and stored them in the supply room. He wasn’t taking any chances on freaky paranormal activity. Frankly, I’d been relieved. “I’m sure she’ll find something else.”
Kane nodded. “I thought you said we were meeting Pyper and her date?”
“We are.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “I’m sure they’ll be here any minute.”
“Never mind.” He jerked his head toward the front door.
I spotted Pyper standing at the entrance of Muriel’s, the restaurant she’d picked for the night’s double date. She smoothed the skirt of her black and white print dress, smiling as the front door opened and her date joined her.
Wine lodged in my throat, forcing a coughing fit.
“Everything all right?” our waitress asked.
“Fine,” I wheezed.
Kane stared at me. “Ian’s her date?”
I didn’t have time to answer.
“Sorry we’re late,” Pyper said from behind me. “Ian took me on a ghost hunt.”
“What?” I turned around so fast I almost tipped over. She caught the back of my chair, sparing me from landing flat on my back with my legs in the air. “A ghost hunt? You?”
She took a seat next to me, but not before she snagged a sip from my wine glass. “Thanks.” She handed back the wine. “And yes. I figured the only way to get over my anxiety is to learn more about ghosts. So, I asked Ian to take me.”
That made perfect sense. The terrifying, claustrophobic sensation of being nailed down and trapped in a glass box came roaring back, making me fidget uneasily. After I’d freed Pyper from Roy’s hold and taken her place, I’d been able to stave off the ghost’s punishments. She hadn’t been as lucky; she’d been tortured for three days. I nodded my understanding and tried to ignore Kane’s stifling irritation. “Long time, no see,” I said to Ian, noting his signature all black ensemble. Black jeans, black T-shirt, and black short-sleeved button-down shirt.
“Better today?” He flashed a knowing smile.
He knew damn well I was better. Had been right after Bea tricked me into drinking that tea. I smirked and tried to block out the memory of the last time I’d been at Muriel’s with Ian. That time we’d been on a date, and he’d spent the whole night scanning the place for ghosts. I prayed we wouldn’t be witness to a repeat performance.
“When did Ian turn into your date?” I whispered to Pyper.
“About two hours ago when I asked him. Are we ready to order?”
A waitress appeared from nowhere and jotted down our requests.
When she left, Pyper filled her wine glass and turned to me. “When are you going to tell me about the haunted portraits?”
Ian’s interest piqued and pressed on my skin. I bit my lip. Damn. Now we’d have to have the discussion in front of Ian, who no doubt would want to investigate. It was what he did. “How did you know about that already?”
“I talked to Charlie.”
“Go ahead. They’re going to find out sooner or later,” Kane said.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. After a bite of buttered bread, I set it down and explained what happened. As predicted, Ian wanted to get some readings. When he asked if he could get a reading with me, I shook my head before Kane could say anything. “No. I’d rather not. Go ahead and take readings if you want or have Bea or Lailah check it out, but I’m happy staying out of this one.”
Ian looked disappointed, but perked up when Pyper said, “I’ll help.”
I sat straight up, ready to diffuse the coming argument. No way was Kane going to let that go. Pyper and I were the two most important people in his life. He didn’t want either of us involved.
Pyper seemed to be channeling my thoughts because she sent Kane a pointed stare, daring him to say something.
He sucked in a breath. I barely noticed him bite the side of his cheek before he raised one shoulder in a slight shrug. I could tell it was killing him to stay silent by the way his irritation poked at my psyche. I sent him some of my own calm, mostly because I didn’t want anyone causing a scene.
Pyper and Ian filled us in on their uneventful ghost hunt all the way through dinner. To my surprise, Ian didn’t crane his neck once to look for the famed ghost that supposedly haunted the French Quarter restaurant. By the time dessert came, I was actually relaxed and enjoying myself.
Kane and I shared a crème brûlée, and Pyper and Ian had a molten chocolate cake.
“I’ve been craving this all day.” Pyper closed her eyes and moaned her appreciation.
Ian watched her with a pleased smile, ignoring his half of the cake.
“What?” She loaded her fork.
“Just enjoying my dessert.” His eyes never left hers.
“Oh.” A blush crept up her neck and a nervous laugh escaped her lips before she stifled it.
Nervous? Pyper? Where was the confident, sassy spitfire I’d come to know and love? I turned to Kane and found his expression mirroring my own confusion. There was only one conclusion. Pyper had a thing for Ian.
As we left, Pyper and I walked together behind our dates. I leaned in and whispered, “Ian, huh?”
Her lips turned up in a sly smile. “Why not? He’s cute.”
“What about the guy you wanted us to meet?”
Her expression turned blank. “What guy?”
“Yesterday at the café, remember? You said you wanted to double date.” Hadn’t she said she’d just asked Ian two hours ago?
“Yeah. I meant with Ian. I meant to ask him right after work, but we were playing phone tag. All I wanted was something casual just in case, but since it’s going so well, I think we’ll call it a night.” She grinned and called out. “Hey, Ian. Ready to walk me home?”
“Sure,” he replied.
“I think we might need more dessert.” Pyper winked.
Ian’s gaze ran the length of her tiny body. “If you insist.”
“You have no idea.” Her voice came out low and sultry.
“Night, Jade, Kane,” Ian said, not looking back at us. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and the pair walked off toward Jackson Square.
“I don’t like that guy,” Kane said.
I laughed. “It’s a good thing you’re not going home with him then.”
The next day, after working a six-hour shift at The Grind, I dragged myself up the third flight of stairs to my one-room apartment, ready to collapse on my lumpy couch. When I got to the door, I froze. It stood slightly ajar and soft voices echoed within.
Slowly, I backed up then spun. I’d made it halfway down the stairs when I heard the door swing open. Footsteps echoed in the hall.
Shit! My body jerked forward, propelling me around the corner to the second floor.
“Jade!”
Grabbing the railing, I came to an abrupt stop then poked my head into the adjacent stairwell. “Pyper? What were you doing in my apartment?”
“Waiting for you. Sorry to barge in, but I had to use the restroom.”
“It’s okay.” I shook my head and climbed back up to my apartment. “The door was open and, well, I thought I had an intruder.”
“Oh, gosh.” Pyper made a face. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
Her silver high heels clacked on my wood floors as I followed her. “You’re dressed up today. Where are you headed?”
She spun, showing off her red, vintage, nineteen-fifty’s-style pinup dress, and smiled. “I have a lunch date.”
My eyebrows shot up. “With Ian?”
She gave me a coy look and walked behind my couch. “We need your help with something.”
“We?”
Right then the bathroom door opened. Lailah came strolling out with Duke on her heels. Once she stopped, the ghost dog sat and stared up at her in pure adoration.
“Lailah,” I said.
“Jade, you’re looking…satisfied.” Her lips curved in a teasing smile.
My faced burned. Since Lailah was supposedly some sort of angel, she could sense and see things others couldn’t. In particular, she could read auras, and mine probably had a healthy glow of red surrounding the normal purple haze. Red was the color for passion. Something Kane and I weren’t lacking in these days. If anything, it was growing. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and when we couldn’t be physically together, Kane always visited me in my dreams. Sometimes even right after…well, anyway. Having a boyfriend who dreamwalks has its perks.
I cleared my throat. “What brings you by this morning?”
Lailah turned her attention to Pyper. “She didn’t know we were coming?”
Pyper ignored the question and turned to me. “Lailah could use your help.”
“What’s going on?”
Pyper reached behind the couch and came up with a portrait in each hand.
“I can see their auras, but I can’t get a read on their emotions or intentions,” Lailah said, holding the third portrait.
My attention focused on the mutilated beauty in Pyper’s left hand. The desperation flowing from the portrait distracted me from Pyper’s attempt to make a case as to why I should help. Felicia’s blue eyes seemed to lock hold of my gaze. Everything in the room disappeared. Suddenly I was trapped in her energy.
Strong-willed and stubborn, Felicia held her emotions close. They were thick and weighted down. Not what I’d expect from a supernatural being. Unless they were inherently evil, their emotional signatures—like mine—were light and easy to navigate. Hers pushed, prodded, and wrapped around my limbs like heavy tentacles. Desperation began to seep into my pores.
“Jade?” Pyper called.
I blinked, and the tainted energy dissipated. “Yeah?”
“Are you listening?” Pyper waved a hand in front of my face. “I know you said you didn’t want to get involved, but we’re just asking for a reading to understand what’s going on.”
I studied Felicia again. What had happened to the soul trapped in that portrait? Despite my reservations of dealing with another spirit, I nodded. “Okay.”
“You don’t have to do anything else. Ian’s already got readings with Lailah. He just asked if we could jot down what you sense from them.”
I barely heard Pyper’s reply. Felicia’s energy force had found me again, and I’d started moving toward the portrait. It was like a personalized, mystical gravitation pull. Like I wouldn’t be able to break away even if I wanted to.
When I reached Pyper’s side, I held my hands out. She set one of the portraits down and passed Felicia to me. As soon as my hands clasped the frame, my world turned black.
No, not black. A crescent moon peeked out from behind the clouds. A few stars twinkled in the midnight sky. I spun, taking in the wide clearing among familiar pine trees.
My heart dropped to my stomach. I took a deep breath and choked on the overwhelming pine scent. I knew this place. I hadn’t been there for over ten years. Not since before my mother had disappeared.