Hoodoo Woman (Roxie Mathis Book 3) (20 page)

“I will have what I want. It was denied to me by whoever killed Britney but I came up with another plan.”

“What the hell is it you want, you freaking psychopath?”

He leaned forward, raising the cane and slamming it onto the hardwood floor. A bolt of energy spread lightning fast, hitting me with the choking sulfurous fury of his magic. “Progeny!” He settled back into the chair, looking pleased with himself. “I will have progeny to carry on the magic that is my family’s true legacy.”

It took a few seconds for me to shake off the cloying blast of the spell, then a few more for the full weight of his meaning to sink in. “You are beyond insane. God, you’re not even in the same time zone as sanity.”

“I will have what I want!” He lifted the cane again.

I’d had enough of Parker’s crazy and his damn cane. I raised my hand, sending my will into ripping the thing from his grasp. He struggled to hold it but couldn’t compete just then with my fury. I yanked it from him, then twisted my hand to break the wood in two. To add insult to injury I hurled it into the fireplace and called on fire. A blaze sprang to life, engulfing the broken cane.

Mouth tasting of whiskey and rain and a bit of ash, I lowered my hand and sent what energy was left into the ground. “Stay away from my friends.”

He cackled. “Or what, hoodoo woman? You gonna hex me?” He laughed and laughed, as if it were the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard.

“I’m gonna free Britney and if you’re very lucky, I won’t turn her loose on you first.”

His laughter followed me as I left the house.

Ray’s truck idled at the exit of the cul-de-sac. I shivered as I made my way to it, more from the magic than the cold. As soon as I climbed inside I told him to go.

We were three blocks away before he spoke. “What happened?” He turned the heat up, apparently having noticed my shaking. “Are you hurt?” He placed a hand on the back of my neck, paying more attention to me than driving.

“Andrew Parker is definitely stone cold crazy. He’s a truthful kind of crazy, though. At least I think so. He says he didn’t kill Britney.”

The truck eased into the gravel on the side of the road. “You might want to do that driving thing,” I said.

Ray put both hands on the wheel and more or less watched the road. “Then who did kill her? Is Parker hoping you’ll find the killer?”

I rubbed my face, going over the encounter in my head. “He’s got her spirit bound somehow, keeping her here. He doesn’t know or seem to care who killed her.”

Ray looked at me, then the road, then back at me again. “That doesn’t make sense. Did he kill Martin Holt?”

“Shit! I forgot all about that.”

“How could you forget that?”

“Well, gee. First there was Peg, who’s so bat shit crazy she quoted Shakespeare at me. Then there was her father Andrew, who says he’s had somebody stealing the blood you donate and slip it into Daniel’s drinks so he starts to think of you as a meal. Oh and also, he wants me to have his evil babies so his magical lineage is continued. So is that chock full of nuts enough for you to give me a pass on forgetting about the dead coroner?” I could hear the hysteria rising in my voice by the end of my tirade. Leaning over, I put my forehead on my knees and tried to breathe slow and easy.

“Jesus H. Christ.” Ray stroked my hair, then worked his hand under it to rub my neck. “I shouldn’t have let you go in there alone.”

“They wouldn’t have let you in the door.” I straightened, staring out the windshield into the night. Britney was out there somewhere. Whether she was actively haunting or just hanging out, I didn’t know or right then care. I turned to Ray. “Can we go back to your place? I know you wanted to be out tonight in case something happens but I need a break.”

“You sure? I mean, I can take you home.”

“I don’t want to be alone and Daniel’s likely to be out most of the night.” A nervous laugh slipped out. “I promise to be a good girl and keep my hands to myself. I just want company.”

He cut his eyes from the road to me in a quick assessing glance. “You’re always a good girl,” he said lightly. “Especially when.” He stopped, swearing under his breath. “I don’t want to joke right now. I’m gonna take you back to the house and make you some cocoa and we’re gonna cuddle up on the couch and talk or watch TV or sit there and stare at nothing in total silence or whatever you need.”

“What do you need, Ray?” I couldn’t remember ever asking him that, even when we dated.

He didn’t answer for a long time, until we were almost to his house. “I just need you, baby.” His voice was soft as a feather-light kiss but the words filled me with an expansive warmth.

Half an hour later Ray had fully delivered on his promise. Empty cups of cocoa sat on the end table. The stereo played Eric Clapton at low volume. Huddled under a blanket with Ray’s arms wrapped around me, I drifted into a pleasant lassitude, happy to forget about ghosts and sorcerers and even vampires for a change. It lasted for a whole five wonderful minutes, until I remembered the poppet stuffed in the pocket of my hoodie. With reluctance I crawled out from under the blanket and went to retrieve my hoodie from the coat tree.

“What’s up?” Sounding half asleep, Ray rubbed his face and ran his hands through his hair.

I showed him the poppet and the sprig of dried lavender I’d also forgotten about. “Souvenirs from the House of Crazy.”

He moved the blanket from his legs to the end of the couch. Pointing at the herb he said, “What’s that?”

“Lavender. Aunt Peggy who’s not retarded gave it to me.” I told him about the encounter with Ophelia’s spiritual sister.

“They’ve let people believe for decades that she wasn’t right.”

“Oh, she’s definitely not right.”

“You know what I mean. That she was autistic or something. One year at Halloween I got called out there. A family that was new in town, didn’t really know who the Parkers are, sent their kids trick or treating in that neighborhood. Peggy put frog entrails and bird bones in their little plastic pumpkins on top of their candy. Told them some story about digging in the garden to visit her babies and how she didn’t want frogs and birds to bother them, so she killed them.”

“I’m surprised anybody was sent to the Parker house.”

“It was mostly to calm the kid’s mother. She was more freaked out than the kids. Terry was a real asshole about it. What I remember most was Peggy’s hands. They were covered in dirt and.” Grimacing, he held up a hand as if trying to pluck the right words from the air. “Stuff. Wet, nasty smelling stuff. Frog guts, I guess. Before Terry could get her back in the house she smiled at me. That smile was about as nasty as the mess on her hands.”

“I can tell you this much. What’s wrong with that woman, and her father, isn’t covered in the DSM. There’s no diagnosis that covers practicing dark magic until your world and the real world don’t match up anymore.” As dispassionately as possible I told Ray the rest of it, including the insinuation that Parker had wanted me under his influence for years.

“He’s got Britney’s spirit bound in some way? You think he sent her to me, thinking it might be the best way to get you back here?”

The possibility had definitely occurred to me. “It doesn’t matter how I got here. I’m here now and I’ll see this through. What I’m more worried about is Daniel. If he’s really been getting a little of your blood in his drinks at a time, that’s not good.”

“Where does he normally get his blood?”

“He buys it on the black market. I don’t ask questions. All I know is, it is donated blood, still in the bags. He’s never around the donors. I don’t know what this will do to him long term so we need to stop it just in case he does start to associate your scent with food.”

“He told me I smelled good. At his house after the séance, when you were passed out. I just figured he was gay and didn’t think anything of it.”

“He’s bi. Can I look at your stuff on the murder again?”

We went to his home office. I ignored the files to stare at the white board. “I never saw anything like this in real life. Just, you know, movies and TV.”

“Yeah. Guess I got a little.” He left it hanging in the air.

I picked it up. “Obsessed?”

“I thought she was asking me for help.”

“She was.” I crossed my arms over my chest, the poppet still in one hand. “He may have her bound but she wants free. If he did send her to you, looking to bring me back to town, I’d be willing to bet she saw it as an opportunity to get help.”

“It’s strange to think of a ghost as being able to think and feel.” He shook his head, breathing out a long sigh. “So what are we looking for?”

“Two murders, four questions. Who killed Britney Parker and why? Who killed Martin Holt and why?”

“Holt was killed because he falsified the autopsy report. We figure out who paid him to do it, we’ll know who killed him.”

“It’s probably the same person who killed Britney, but not necessarily. There’s no way for me to know if magic was used to kill her but it was definitely used to kill Holt. Which puts Andrew at the top of the suspect list.”

“You really believe Andrew when he said he didn’t kill Britney?”

I sat cross-legged on the floor, the poppet in front of me. “It seemed like this idea of continuing his magical family line was pretty important. He wanted control of her baby.” I began to carefully pick apart the poppet, laying the pieces to the side.

“That supposed to be me?” I nodded. He said, “Is it a good idea for you to be doing that? I’m not gonna fall apart, am I?”

“I would be able to feel it if there were any magic running through it. He just wanted to scare me. The thing we have to worry about is Daniel snacking on your blood. I want you to keep your distance until I talk to him. Then I gotta figure out what the hell’s going on with Stack.”

“This attack on him, whatever it is. Can it destroy him?”

That question had been in the back of mind since Stack appeared. All I had to go on was instinct. “I don’t think so. It might be possible for the link between us to be broken, but Stack isn’t a ghost or a demon. Exorcism probably wouldn’t work on him. I think he can be weakened, and the link between us interfered with, but I don’t think Andrew could destroy him.”

“Why is Andrew on your list of suspects but not Peggy? If they’re both practicing some kind of dark magic, wouldn’t they both be capable of all this?”

I considered that for a moment, not sure of how to answer. “I guess she just seems more like a victim to me, than an accomplice. I think Andrew sexually abused his daughter. Probably his granddaughter too.”

The combination of insanity and fragility I saw in Peggy’s eyes was what finally convinced me the suspected abuse had really happened. Even more so than the contents of Britney’s diary in the last collection of anonymously delivered pages. Her desperation to escape held the flavor of self-loathing that someone else had put there.

I didn’t want to think too much about that, lest it lead to thoughts too close to home. “I need to get back in that house.”

Ray gave me a dubious look. “Dinner and cocktails with Andrew? I don’t think so.”

“I was thinking more, we figure out a way to get everybody out of the house, then I get in and go looking for whatever he’s using to bind Britney’s ghost.”

“Let me talk to the mayor. He may be willing to smooth things over with my boss so I can bring Andrew and Peggy in for questioning. I bet that would bring the whole family down to the department in a flurry of righteous indignation.”

“Not to mention their lawyer.”

“I wouldn’t be able to give you long, but it might be long enough.”

“If you can do it right at dusk, I can have Daniel with me. That’ll make things go faster on my end.”

“I’ll talk to the mayor tomorrow night at the pageant. See what I can do about getting floor plans for the house. It’s on the county historical registry so there might be some records somewhere. How’s Monday night sound?”

I gathered the pieces of the poppet and rolled them into a ball. It would need cleansing and burning, the ashes scattered in running water. “Sounds good.”

“Okay. Let’s table discussion of the Parker family for the rest of the night and deal with our other issue.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to move back to Blythe,” he said. “I want you back.”

The convention center was slightly bigger than the high school gym, located between two motels that catered to fishing tourists. It took three hours and the last of Valerie’s white sage incense to bless and ward the place against spirits. I did such a good job, Daniel could barely stand being in the parking lot as we talked about his social life.

“I’m not saying you can’t go to the bars. I’m glad you’re making friends, really, I am. But somebody is slipping Ray’s blood into your drinks.” I kept my voice low, mindful of the families walking past us on their way inside.

“Don’t you think I would have tasted blood in my beer? Come on. That old man just wanted to scare you.”

“How much would it take? A drop or two in one drink, another drop or two in the next round. There’s been a lot of rounds, Bubba. You’re drinking a hell of a lot.”

Accusation twisted his features. “That’s what this is really all about. You don’t approve of my drinking.”

“Don’t give me bitch face. Just because it burns out of your system fast doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you. Or the people around you.”

“You’re the one who’s being bitchy tonight. Have been all day. What’s your damn problem, Roxie? Because it’s not me and how much I drink.”

Someone called my name before I could turn his head into a flaming turnip. Over his shoulder I saw my cousin and her family, two girls dolled up in glittery pageant clothes and more makeup than I’d ever worn in my entire life. Trailing behind them was Nadine. Shit.

Daniel escaped while I was preoccupied.

“How are you, Roxie? I heard you were back.” Jessica didn’t offer a hug but rather a snide up and down appraisal of my faded jeans and old sweater.

“Fine. You?” Not that I really cared but I did occasionally still manage to mind my manners.

“Very well, thank you. We just renovated the kitchen and added on a sunroom. I’m sure as soon as you manage to get out of that trailer you’ll be excited to be doing your own home improvements.”

Bitch hadn’t changed a bit. “You bet. The trailer’s not big enough for the altar to Asmodeus of my dreams.”

Confusion dimmed the gleam in her eyes. The kids were staring at me, the little one in fear, the older one with a sneer. It might have been uncharitable to say so about kids but damn, they needed all the help cosmetics could give them.

The older one tugged on her mother’s arm. “Can we go? She smells weird.”

The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. I smelled like I’d been walking around in a cloud of sage for hours, which I had. All so this stupid pageant could go off without a hitch from the town ghost. Jessica mumbled something and left with her kids, the little one looking back at me over her shoulder. I winked, making her jump.

Nadine said, “You haven’t been by the house.”

I was in no mood for games. “I didn’t think I’d be welcome.”

“Your father would like to see you.”

“Maybe he should learn to use a phone and tell me so himself.”

“What has gotten in to you, speaking to me like this? To your cousin? We may not be close, Roxanne, but-’’

“But that’s the end of it. We’re not close. We’re never going to be close. You can’t stand the sight of me. I wasn’t the daughter you wanted, Jessica is, so go inside and cheer on her kids and pretend I don’t exist. You’ve gotten pretty damned good at that.”

“I could never pretend you don’t exist. What is this?”

“I lost my home! I nearly drowned. One phone call from you. One phone call. That’s all I ever heard from you. You sure as hell couldn’t be bothered to come see me, make sure I was okay. That I wasn’t sleeping in a shelter or on the street. As long as it wasn’t your house, you didn’t care where I was or what was happening to me.” Once the anger boiled over I was helpless to stop it. Things I’d been keeping a lid on for years threatened to come to the surface, old hurts and bad memories and all the resentment I’d built up.

The self-loathing in Britney I’d caught glimpses of in her diary was something I recognized. For her, it came from abuse and the charnel house of insanity that growing up in the Parker family must have been like. It manifested with promiscuity and substance abuse and no telling what all else she did to run from herself. Obliterate herself. The woman standing right in front of me taught me to hate myself. Because of that I’d run from my home, from the man I loved, from any sense of myself as a decent person worthy of respect. I wanted to scream at her, fling terrible wounding words as a sort of counter-curse to all the damage she’d done to me. I wanted her to know the pain I’d lived with, the pain of knowing that the one person who should always love you and protect you wanted nothing to do with me - I wanted her to know how it felt to have that carve jagged scars over your heart until you can’t even love yourself anymore, much less another person.

Nadine stared at me with her mouth hanging open and her eyes flashing. I’d never stood up to her, not once. Walked away plenty of times but never stood my ground and fought. In the movies this would have been the moment she began to respect me, see me in a new light. The reality was, she just looked disgusted. Nothing I said would ever make a difference. Years ago she had decided who I was and no one would ever be able to tell her different. As fast as it flared, the anger died. There was no sense wasting the energy, that much was clear.

“They’re waiting on you,” I said. “Just go.”

After one last scathing look she hurried away. I meandered through the parking lot, shell shocked. Unbelieving that I had worked up the wherewithal to speak to my mother like that. Ray’s truck was at the edge of the lot. He’d planned to talk to Mayor Carver tonight. He was probably already inside doing that very thing. I could find him, apologize for running out on him the night before. Apologize for running out on him years ago. Was there a statute of limitations for things like that? I owed Daniel an apology too, for taking out my bad mood on him.

I owed Blake an apology, for not being able to open my heart enough. For not loving him enough. Or maybe I didn’t owe him for that.
I won’t be less than what I am. Not even for you
. My words to him echoed in my thoughts. I’d meant them when I said them but it wasn’t until that moment, standing in the parking lot shivering, staring at Ray’s truck and still reeling from the venom I’d unloaded on my mother, that I really understood them. The days of running and hiding and telling myself lies were over. Running and hiding had done nothing to set me free. I carried my chains within me, everywhere I went.

It was time to break them, if I could figure out how.

I returned to where Daniel had parked the SUV, not sure if he’d still be there. He was, hunched down behind the wheel and sipping from a flask. Top forty country whined from the radio as I opened the door and climbed in.

“You must really feel like shit if you’re listening to that.”

“Girl, you have no idea.” He looked at me. “Well, maybe you got some idea. So what’s the plan for the evening? Patrol the parking lot with holy water and an EMF reader?”

“This place is sealed up tight. Britney’s not getting in.” I thought about my list of problems, wondering which one to tackle first. “I need to figure out what’s going on with Stack. Let’s go back to the house. Make some coffee. I’ll think out loud while you make fun of me. How’s that sound?”

He capped the flask and started the ignition. “I don’t get beauty pageants.”

“I don’t either.”

I turned off the radio as he pulled out of the parking lot. For a few minutes he hummed random snatches of music, then it turned into a specific song.
Wayfaring Stranger
was such an old ballad he would likely have known it when he could still walk in daylight. He had a habit of singing playfully, exaggerating his accent and just generally being silly. Every once in a while he’d drop the pretense and let his real voice shine through. It sounded like something out of time, imperfect, authentic, haunting. It suited the song like a hand in a glove.

We reached the lake house. As soon as he parked and I opened the door, the smell hit me. Rotting strawberries.

Daniel said, “What the hell is that?”

“Trouble.” I closed the passenger door and took off my glasses to see into the auric spectrum as best I could. No signs of orange and black or anything else.

Daniel climbed the porch and unlocked the house. “I learned a long time ago not to trust magic that smells bad.”

“Me too, Bubba,” I said quietly as I scanned the night. “Me too.”

Flares of red shouted into the spectrum as the door to the house swung open. I opened my mouth to scream, a large hand from behind cutting off the sound. A shotgun blast ripped open the dark, slamming into Daniel’s chest and sending him backward off the porch. I struggled against the arms that held me but they had help. A binding spell wrapped itself around me like psychic razor wire. A man stepped out of the house, a shotgun carried loose in his arms and a dead rose pinned to his jacket like a boutonniere. Peggy Parker followed, my old diary in her hands. With every step she ripped a page from it, leaving them scattered like leaves on the ground.

Daniel moaned. The man propped the shotgun against the porch and shifted a pack he carried on his back to open it, withdrawing a wooden stake. I screamed, fighting the spell that bound me more than the man whose hands held my arms. Cuts opened on my flesh as the invisible razor wire gripped tighter.

Peggy took the stake. The smell of rotten strawberries grew stronger as she gestured at Daniel’s prone form, manipulating his limbs into a spread eagle position. With a push of magic that felt like a kick to the stomach, she flung the stake at him. It pinned his left hand to the ground, through the palm. The burn of the wood tore a sound from him even worse than his rebel yells. Guttural. Feral. An animal trapped and in pain. He made the same sound each time as Peggy sent three more stakes into his limbs. The man with the pack withdrew a bag of blood, the kind used for donating. I didn’t need to be told whose it was. Peggy stood over Daniel, pouring the blood into his mouth until he choked. He tried to spit it out but his body needed it so badly with all the wounds. Instinct took over and he swallowed.

I struggled against the binding spell, lashing out with unfocused energy. All it did was make the barbs dig deeper into my skin.

The older witch stood before me, eyes dark and heavy lidded, mouth in a twisted smile. “I’ll not let him have you,” she said. “This ends tonight.”