Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2) (9 page)

“That depends,” I replied. “Do you know what it is?”

The man shook his head. He was short and muscular like a boxer, with the flinty-eyed squint of a hustler. “No idea. Weirds me out, that’s why I want to get rid of it. Had no idea what we were getting when I bought that batch of unclaimed luggage, and now I’m beginning to think it was a bad idea.”

I straightened up, careful not to touch the box. In it lay a skull covered with intricate beadwork in the
veve
of Baron Samedi, one of the Voudon Loas associated with death. I had seen my friends Lucinda and Caliel at work, and, once or twice, I’d glimpsed the Baron’s spirit. Whether my would-be customer knew it or not, the Loas were not to be trifled with.

“It’s a Voudon relic – you probably call it Voodoo,” I said. “There’s more of a market for something like this down in New Orleans, which means fewer potential buyers here, and that affects the price.” I named a dollar figure that I thought was low. The stranger jumped at it.

“It’s yours,” he said. “Cash?”

I nodded. “We can do that. But I will need to record your name, address, and a phone number, just in case there are questions.”

Hustler Dude looked nervous. “Why would there be questions?”

I shrugged. “It could happen. Especially if that turns out to be a real skull.”

Hustler Dude blanched as if he hadn’t considered that possibility. “Oh man,” he said, taking a step back. “Do you think it could be?”

I shrugged again, although my spidey sense was tingling. I was betting that it was not only real, but it had been used by someone with power and know-how in some honest-to-gods Voudon rituals. And as with the hair necklace, I had the definite impression that a trapped ghost was connected to the beaded skull, and that ghost was scared witless. Hustler Dude didn’t need to know any of that. “No idea. But it didn’t come from Joe’s Juju Junk Shoppe.”

“Where’s that?” he asked, wide-eyed.

I resisted the urge to face-palm or roll my eyes. “I made it up,” I said. Across the store, I could see Teag hiding a snicker. “What I meant was, I think it’s the real deal. Do you want to sell it?” I repeated my price.

I could see him torn between the greedy hope that he could find someone to pay more, and the strong desire to get rid of the damned thing. And I was willing to bet that there had been some hard-to-explain circumstance that spooked Hustler Dude. “Okay,” he said. “Sold.”

The grinning, bejewelled skull lay nestled in the satin lining of its box, and the similarity to a coffin had not escaped me. I sent Hustler Dude over to Teag to get his money, but I already knew who I needed to talk to about the relic – Lucinda.

As soon as Hustler Dude was out of the door, Teag looked at me and shook his head. “Sometimes, Cassidy, I really wonder about your sanity.”

“Touch that silk and tell me that isn’t an active relic,” I challenged.

“I didn’t question whether or not it was active,” he said archly. “I questioned your sanity.”

“Yeah, well. That’s been in short supply lately.” The dark shadow at the nursing home spooked me more than I wanted to let on, especially after the attack in Boston. I was grateful for Chuck’s help, and I had a suspicion that Lucinda might have been the one to set the wards. Now with the skull, I had an excuse to go see her right away.

“Think you two can handle the shop for a while?” I asked. “I want to see what Lucinda makes of this.” I pulled out a plastic bag. “And can you please put the skull in this? I don’t want to touch it.” Teag gave me an exaggerated, long-suffering look as he put on a pair of gloves, picked up the skull and put it in the sack and then slid it into my tote bag.

“Go. Get rid of it before it causes problems.” He shook his head. “That thing is so tacky, it looks like it belongs in a New Orleans airport gift shop.”

“Maybe that’s where it came from,” I replied. Teag’s glare told me that he doubted that was the case.

“Let me know if you hear from Sorren,” I said. Odds were slim, since it was daylight. Apparently, a vampire of Sorren’s age could be awake during daylight hours as long as he stayed somewhere dark, but that wakefulness came at a cost, and so Sorren usually slept. If he contacted us now, I would know we were really in trouble.

“Yeah. Yeah. Get out of here,” Teag said, making a shooing motion with his hands. “We’ll be fine.”

I hoped he was right as I gathered up my tote bag. But as I headed out into the bright Charleston sunshine, I had a pretty good idea of where to find Lucinda, and I hoped she would know what I had just gotten myself into.

It didn’t take long to walk down to the Lowcountry Museum of Charleston. I make a yearly donation to the museum, so I got an email every time they have a new exhibit. That meant I knew all about the ‘Voodoo and You’ special exhibition curated by Dr. Lucinda Walker, College of Charleston Humanities Department. And I was counting on Lucinda to be at the museum, overseeing the installation of her exhibition, so I could figure out just how much trouble we were in.

As much as I love history, I avoid museums. My magic reads the history of objects that have been imprinted with strong emotion or magic. That pretty much covers the pieces in museums. It’s caused me some unpleasant experiences, especially the time I took a wrong turn and ended up in a ‘Plagues and Pestilence’ exhibition.

“Hello, Cassidy! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Alistair McKinnon, Curator of the Lowcountry Museum, spotted me and came my way with a wave.

“Hi, Alistair,” I replied. “Have you seen Lucinda Walker?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You skip attending an exhibition on imported porcelain dishes and show up early for a Voodoo exhibition?” Alistair knows about my magic, but not about Sorren and the Alliance. Or perhaps I should say he doesn’t ‘remember’ that he knows Sorren. He’s been a big help when I’m trying to research something in Charleston’s past, and I’ve helped him out when the museum happens across dangerously haunted acquisitions.

“I promise not to touch anything,” I said with a wry grin. “You won’t have to scrape me off the floor again.”

Alistair chuckled. “No harm done, but that encounter couldn’t have been pleasant for you.” No kidding. In addition to the horrific vision I experienced, there was the utter humiliation of having caused a scene in public.

“Goes with the territory,” I replied. Boy, and how. We chatted for a few more minutes, then Alistair directed me into the wing of the second floor where traveling exhibitions were showcased, and I promised to meet up with him for lunch soon. Alistair went back to his office, and I climbed the steps to the next floor, trying to get a feel for the museum’s vibes without knocking myself into a full-blown vision.

What’s on display at the museum varies by the season and the themed exhibits. Like any similar institution, the Lowcountry Museum has a much larger collection than is ever out for viewing at any given time. I’d been down to the storage area in the basement once, and that was enough for me. It didn’t go well.

Sometimes when I had tried to attend an event at the museum, I knew from the sensation I got just walking through the door that it would be better to turn around and go home. Today, the museum felt pretty neutral. I picked up on something strong and negative – but not dangerous – down on the first floor, and another hotspot at the far end of the second floor, and resolved not to go anywhere near those areas. On one hand, I was pleased to have gained enough ability with my magic to sense some problems without having to be right on top of a troubling item. On the other hand, anything I could sense from that far away was probably a doozie.

Ahead and on the right, I saw where the new temporary exhibition was being installed. ‘Voodoo and You: Loas and the Lowcountry’ the banner read. From inside the room, I could hear boxes and glass cases being moved around, and the sound of Lucinda’s voice. I poked my head into the room. Lucinda is a tall, slim woman with skin the color of espresso and shoulder-length hair done up into a mane of hundreds of tightly-woven braids. Today she was dressed in a business-casual tan pantsuit with a richly-hued animal print silk scarf and tastefully-sized gold hoop earrings. I could see that Lucinda was in her element, directing the museum staff on where to place the artifacts.

“Dr. Walker!” I called from the doorway, and Lucinda turned to greet me with a big smile.

“Cassidy! Come on in. How do you like the chaos? This’ll be a fine exhibition when we’re through,” she added, “but it’s wild as a hurricane in here right now!”

Lucinda’s energy is infectious. Whether she’s giving an academic presentation or helping Sorren, Teag, and me fight off rampaging supernatural threats, Lucinda has a zest for living that is as powerful as a gale-force wind. “What brings you over here in the middle of the day?”

I grimaced. “We made an acquisition at the store that seems like it’s more in line with your area of expertise,” I replied. Lucinda sobered, understanding the potential for problems.

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. She strode over to where her helpers were arranging some display cabinets to give them instructions, then walked back toward me.

“They’ll be busy with that for a little while,” she said, and motioned for me to follow her into a small side room that was currently empty except for a large table. “Now, what did you bring me?”

I put my tote bag onto the table and gingerly drew out the bag that held the beaded skull. Lucinda frowned, then walked counter-clockwise around the table, raising a quick, defensive warding around us. When she came back, she reached into the bag and lifted out the silk-lined box with cautious reverence. “Oh, oh, oh. What do we have here?” she said when she opened the box and stared down at the skull.

I told her about the unclaimed baggage sale and the man who had brought the skull in to Trifles and Folly. She listened as she carefully took the skull out of its box and turned it around in her hands to see the full decoration.

“You didn’t touch it, did you?” Lucinda’s dark eyes met my gaze.

“Are you kidding?”

“Good. Because it’s got some bad juju stuck to it, like stink on a skunk.” She lifted a small round magnifying lens that was on a chain around her neck and bent to get a better look at the beading.

“That’s the Baron’s
veve
, isn’t it?” I asked.

Lucinda nodded. “Yes it is. But not everyone who calls on the Baron has good intentions. Some of them don’t know what they’re messing with. They think he’s some kind of supernatural frat boy, and they find out fast he does not like to be disrespected.” Baron Samedi, one of the Voudon Ghedes, helps to conduct souls to the afterlife. Tradition holds that the Baron’s spirit likes cigars, rum, and dirty jokes. I always figured that his excesses had something to do with standing on the threshold between life and death, since the Baron is also the Loa of resurrection. If someone summoned the Baron without the proper deference, the situation could go bad very quickly.

Lucinda is a scary-powerful mambo, and together, she and Sorren and Teag and I have done battle with some supernatural creatures that definitely deserve the name ‘monster’. So I wasn’t surprised when she bowed her head, chanting softly as she cradled the beaded skull in her hands. I saw a shiver run through her body and knew that one of the Loas had heard her call.

“Not one of mine.” The voice came from Lucinda’s mouth, but it was a man’s voice, smooth in a riverboat gambler sort of way. Something about the way Lucinda stood, the expression on her face, told me that she was not herself, and I held my breath. Being face-to-face with Baron Samedi had not been on my to-do list for the day.

“I will take this soul,” the voice said. “It has been wronged. Best you watch the shadows. Bad things are a’comin’.” I could feel magic in the air, thick as roux. It felt different, and not just because of how strong it was. Magic done by mortals, even powerful mortals, feels one way. Magic done by supernatural creatures is different, in a way that words aren’t designed to express. The power that flickered in the air for an instant was not of this world. I shivered, and tried not to attract its notice.

With that, another tremor ran through Lucinda’s form, and when she raised her head, she was merely human once again.

“What was so special about that skull that it got a visit from… him?” I hesitated to say the Baron’s name. When dealing with insanely powerful otherworldly spirits, it’s best not to invoke them unless you’re prepared for a visit.

Lucinda placed the beaded skull back in its box. “Someone had misused their magic to make this abomination,” she replied, and from the anger in her tone, I knew she wasn’t critiquing the artwork. “It’s a human skull, and a human soul was trapped inside. The beadwork was done in a way that secured the spells. And if that wasn’t bad enough, something was draining that captive soul.”

“That’s the second time in as many days we’ve run into something feeding on souls.”

Lucinda fixed me with a worried look. “Child, that is not good. Does Sorren know?”

I nodded. “And he isn’t sure what’s behind it. Which worries me.”

“Is it all right with you if I keep the skull?”

“Yeah. We bought it for you, to keep it from going astray,” I replied.

“Good call. Even now, I wouldn’t want someone with bad intent to get a hold of it,” she said, and glanced over her shoulder toward where the workers sounded as if they were finishing their assignment. “Look, I need to get the exhibition up and running, so I’ve got to go, but if you need me, call me,” she added. And with that, Lucinda headed back to the other room, picking up where she had left off.