Mojo Queen (7 page)

“Can you get that out of my eyes, please?” Seth. I breathed a sigh of relief, my heart started working again and I lowered the flashlight.

“What are you doing here?”

“Your cousin got worried so he had me lead him here. But he said he can’t come in.” Seth sounded like he wanted to ask about that, but wasn’t too sure he really wanted an answer.

I retrieved several more notebooks and started up the ladder. “I’m gonna pass these up and then we’re getting out of here.”

When I had all of Blake’s notebooks, I locked the trunk and gave the place a once-over. Was there anything else I should take since I was already in a thieving mood? I grabbed a book at random then blew out the candles and went up the ladder for the last time.

Seth helped me get the trapdoor back in place and the rug on top of it. I asked him how Gabe was doing and he told me they were keeping him overnight in the hospital, but he’d probably be able to go home tomorrow afternoon. Levi was staying with him and Seth wanted to go back as soon as we were done here.

“Daniel said we shouldn’t leave Gabe alone at night. That none of us should be alone at night. He was pretty worried about you, though.”

“Yeah, I guess I stayed a lot longer than I should have. Come on, let’s get out of here and get you back to your friends.” We each carried a stack of notebooks to my car.

Daniel was waiting for us, looking none too happy.

“Don’t say anything. It’s all over your face.” I opened the trunk and tossed in the notebooks.

“What’s on my face? Disapproval? Impatience? Do you even know how to use your phone?”

I didn’t like the tone of his voice. Sometimes he had a real daddy complex about me I didn’t care for. “Yeah, and I would have used it if I had a problem. How about we get out of here?”

His glare softened and he gave me a shrug by way of apology. I nodded in return, accepting. One thing I valued about Daniel, he might not be able to stop himself, but at least he knew when he’d gone too far. That was more self-awareness than most people possessed.

Daniel and Seth headed back to the hospital while I went home. At the four-way stop where I turned off the street to go back across town, I pulled my glasses down for just a moment to rub my tired eyes. For barely a second, I caught a glimpse of that star-filled darkness at the edge of the broken sidewalk. Then it was gone again, so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. I sat at the stop sign, letting the car idle as I scanned the night, unwilling to get out of the car, though, despite my bravado with Daniel. When a car pulled up behind me I gave up and left.

* * * *

This frustration has put me on edge, made me even more nervous than usual, so nervous I feel like I could crack into little pieces. But how am I supposed to force something like this? I can’t. He keeps telling me to have patience, but I can tell he’s beginning to question his decision to take me on as a student. If I can’t even master simple energy work, the most basic of elemental spells, if I can’t even do a simple meditation--how do I have any hope of reaching the level to which I aspire?

The level to which I aspire?
What a major doofus this guy must be. I took another sip of coffee, flipping through more pages of Blake the Emo Sorcerer’s first grimoire, journal, sordid volume of True Confessions, whatever. I had the entire Time Life set arrayed in front of me on the kitchen table, with a pen and a fresh notepad of my own. So far the only thing of interest I’d found was the tale of his pathetically sad and woefully brief first sexual experience, and all that was good for was a laugh. He was careful not to identify his mystery teacher. I set this one to the side and pulled the latest one from the stack. I could look for more things to mock later. Right now I needed information about the demon in Delia and the ritual that put it there. I needed to know these things because it might help me devise a way of getting that demon out of the girl without killing her.

I finished off that cup of coffee and got up to pour another. After a few hours of pseudo-sleep full of nightmare images and starburst auras, I had started skipping around in the journals before putting them in order and trying to form some sort of cohesive idea about this guy and his practices. Some of his writings were so disjointed I wasn’t sure if he was a candidate for full-time residence in a mental hospital or just a flaky dilettante.

I did find one thing worth making a note of, Blake’s “magical” name. I didn’t know much about ceremonial magicians doing this, but Wiccans and other Pagans will frequently take another name they use only in circle and with their coven, if they have one--the name their gods and goddesses know them by. Usually it will be something that has some significance for the person, symbolic of some kind of kinship, or how they see themselves on the inside. In his magical life Blake went by the name Kalidas and I wanted to know what it meant.

I found the ritual. From what Seth told us, it went pretty much according to plan, until Delia killed one of the kids. Blake had detailed notes of the entire planning process, including all his research on astrological correspondences so the rite would take place on a date offering the greatest chance of success. He made all of his own anointing oils, the incense, even the black robes that had been worn, made the candles himself, with soy wax, black dye and molds. Ooh, and here was something neat; the watchtower candles with their colored flame corresponding to each element were created by having different chemicals in each cauldron. Mostly wood alcohol, mixed with a few other things, which didn’t tell me how he lit the candles and chemicals.

I flipped further back, scanning the pages carefully for references to the demon. Finally I hit pay dirt and started filling up my notepad. Pretty quickly I realized some things were not adding up and had to start going through the older journals with a bit more care.

In my line of work it was not unusual to get knocked around by various oogie boogies, but Delia had a lot more power than what I was used to. After what I saw last night, I had an idea of what kind of demon she might be, but I’d have to confirm it with research and figure out how to stop her. In the meantime, I needed some protection.

After gathering supplies I sat on the floor in the library. First I lit several candles in a circle on a tray, without a lighter. The first few were work but once I got rolling it was easier. Angelica root and some other protective herbs went into a small red flannel bag. Pulling the drawstring tight, I dressed the flannel with oil then placed it in the middle of the candles. I lit a cone of incense with one of the candles, giving it time for the smoke to flow. After a moment I picked up the bag and began to pass it through the smoke.

I’d been making mojo hands since I was a teenager. Creating a classic hoodoo spell bag was the first thing Rozella taught me. She showed me how she made them then she told me to figure out my own method. That turned out to be par for the course with her. Every person is different, she said. They’re made up of different things, and their energy runs in different ways. I could follow her methods exactly but I’d never get the same results, so I had to work out spells that suited my strengths, suited my energy. It took a lot of trial and error but I was damn good at protective spells now.

Rozella was Christian. Most root workers were. When they petitioned for aid and protection, it was God and Jesus they were directing those prayers to. Even as a kid, being forced to go to church, I knew I was no Christian. Much as I liked the people at the Broom Closet, I was no Wiccan, either; too much ritual for my taste. I was pretty much agnostic on the existence of any goddess and god, but I believed with everything in my soul in the power of natural magic. With every breath I drew every bit of that belief and all of my intention into tight focus, pouring it into the little red flannel bag. I drew from the earth my house sat on, through layers of flooring, drew from the sun shining above the roof, the trees dotting the property, the wind that slipped through their branches. Deeper underground until I could feel cool water. My body hummed with energy. The candle flames swelled higher. Sweat broke out on my brow but I kept going, kept calling the magic to me and directing it into the mojo hand I continued passing through incense smoke. I didn’t stop until the cone was nothing but ash.

I lay on the floor for awhile, exhausted, clutching the bag in my hand. As I sat up, my gaze fell on the
At Folsom Prison
cover. I said to Cash, “If that don’t work I’m gettin’ a flame thrower.”

After a quick lunch I called Seth at the hospital to check in. Daniel had stayed as late as the approaching dawn allowed before leaving. Levi had gone back to his dorm room. Seth spent the day with Gabe, working on a history paper while his friend slept most of the time. I packed the grimoires into a box, which I tucked away in a hidden compartment behind the wall of the bedroom closet, gathering my notes before going to the office. I needed the internet on my office computer for more research. I spent a couple of hours with that then drove to the hospital. I needed to talk to Daniel about a lot but I wanted to check in with Seth in person first.

I found him in the hospital cafeteria, hunched over a fat textbook, a slim laptop, and a cup of coffee, staring off into space. As we exchanged greetings I sat beside him. He had bags under his eyes the color of day-old bruises and I wondered if he’d ever get a good night’s sleep again after what he’d seen. I asked about Gabe.

“They’re saying he had a mild heart attack. That he needs to watch what he eats and reduce his stress level. Can you believe that?” He shook his head. “Gabe’s twenty. Anyway, they’re gonna let him go home tonight. The doctor wants to see him one more time then they’ll release him.” He lifted the paper cup to his lips, grimacing slightly when he found it empty.

“Seth, did Blake ever tell you guys what kind of magic he practiced?”

His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “You mean other than black magic? No.”

I thought about that for a moment. Despite the whole conjuring a demon thing, there was no indication in his journals that Blake worshipped Satan, or anything else for that matter. I’d found plenty of harmless spells and rituals, stuff designed for benign purposes. The old idea of black and white magic didn’t seem to apply here. “Maybe a better way to put it would be how did he practice?”

Seth gave me a blank look.

“Some people practice magic in the context of their religion. You ever heard of Wicca?”

He nodded.

“For some people religion has nothing to do with it. Or at least, not any kind of organized religion we’re used to in modern life. There are different systems of practicing magic. Thelemic, Order of the Golden Dawn. Any of this ring any bells?”

Seth shook his head again. “No. I don’t remember him talking about anything like that. Levi asked him once if he practiced black magic or white magic. Blake said there was no such thing as black or white magic. There was just magic. It sort of made sense at the time, but now.” A mix of doubt and guilt and fear washed over his face. He closed the textbook and powered down his laptop.

“I couldn’t find any photos in his apartment, and we need to know what he looks like. I know a sketch artist who can give us a good drawing, if you can describe Blake. And I want you to either give me addresses or drive with me and help me find the clubs and bars you guys went to with him. Or any other place you went to with him. How’s that sound?”

“No problem. Most of the places I can just give you an address, but there’s one place we’ll have to drive around and look for, that place that didn’t have a name.”

Something occurred to me. Blake may have made a lot of his own stuff, but he needed to buy ingredients somewhere. There was no evidence of a garden in his backyard. Not many places in the area carried mugwort and henbane, and my office happened to be right next door to one. What if I’d already seen this guy? “Where did he buy his stuff? His herbs and stuff like that? Did he ever mention a place called the Broom Closet?”

“No, it was something else. I can’t remember the name of it.”

“Do you know where? Or how far of a drive?”

“It was online.”

I blew my breath out in frustration. “Let’s go see your buddy.”

We made our way out of the cafeteria and to the nearest elevator. Seth asked, “What about tonight? Daniel said we might not be safe at night.”

I nodded. “That’s why the three of you are staying at his house tonight.”

Seth gave me a dubious look.

“Don’t worry, he’s cool. It’s a big house. Big flat-panel TV, cable, video games. Y’all’ll be fine. We’ll have to pick up some food after we get Levi, maybe a couple of pizzas.” Daniel’s kitchen was a shrine to the Beverage Gods. I don’t think he owned a single cooking utensil.

We rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, several people getting on and off at each floor. When the doors hissed open at our stop I knew right away we had trouble. The air felt wrong somehow, disturbed. I stashed my glasses and took a look around. Smudges of black were smeared on one wall, as if someone had idly run a hand across the institutional green while heading down the hall. “Gabe in room four-seventeen?”

Seth nodded. “What’s wrong?”

The energy trail stopped at Gabe’s door. “I think he has a visitor.”

I had to grab Seth of keep him from running to his friend. “No!” A passing nurse looked at us with interest and I pulled him to the side of the hallway. “Getting yourself killed isn’t going to help him.” I fished my keys out of my messenger bag and put them in his palm. “Go wait for me in my car. Keep your cellphone on. I’ll call you when it’s clear.”

Keeping his gaze on the door to Gabe’s room as if waiting for Delia to come sauntering out, he said, “Don’t you need some kind of backup? Shouldn’t we at least call Daniel?”

I would have liked nothing better than calling in my big bad cousin with supernatural strength and an absurd level of over-protectiveness, but it was daylight. Just coming out and telling Seth, “Hey my cousin Daniel’s a vampire,” didn’t seem like a good idea right now, so I took refuge in faux offense. “What, you think ’cos I’m a girl I need a man to protect me?”