The Hoodoo Detective (27 page)

She more than loved her niece – she liked and admired the girl. While other kids played video games, she'd been making movies. She had drive, creativity, and passion, and if that passion sometimes overwhelmed, got her into trouble... Tears wet the corners of Riga's eyes.
Pen. Where are you?

The pendant flashed, and she was flying. She climbed high above the French Quarter, the sounds of revelry and music and sirens growing faint. The dark and light resolved into a grid pattern of streets and buildings.

Something glinted to her right, and she focused on it.
Pen
.

Through the city twisted the Mississippi, a serpentine mirror. She brushed the top of a cloud, cold and damp, and shivered. Winding, sinuous, the river drew her. There was something about the water – was that how Pen's kidnappers were keeping her hidden? Running water could block magic.

A figure shifted in the water. Midsection tightening, she sped downward. In the moonlight, the woman's figure was a wavering silhouette, hair drifting behind her like seaweed in the current.

She bit back a whimper of fear. Not Pen, drowned. And then she saw the curves, the heart-shaped face and auburn hair. Riga recoiled. The eyes opened, and she was looking at herself.

She spun away, lights of moon and stars and city flashing in a disorienting kaleidoscope. Closing her eyes, she swallowed the vomit rising in her throat.

The scrying wasn't working. She should have known it was a trap by the moon phase – tonight was nearly a new moon, but the moon in her vision was full, blazing, turning the water into a looking glass. Self-disgust heated her stomach.

Forcing herself to relax, she found her center, stilled the spinning world, and landed hard. She swayed, bones rattling, and opened her eyes.

She stood in the living room of their home at Tahoe. Rock walls merged with wood beams and a soaring ceiling. A fire crackled in the stone fireplace. High windows overlooked the lake and a mercury trail of moonlight.

Riga saw herself seated on a couch, leaning over the glass coffee table and flipping the pages of a home décor magazine, looking bored. Oz lay at her feet. The fine lines around her eyes and mouth had hardened, coarsened. A patch of gray streaked her hair at her temple – fashionable in a Bride-of-Frankenstein sort of way. Heavy rings flashed on her slim hands, and an expensive sweater was pulled tight around her waist.

And in a flash she knew.

She'd failed.

No Pen. No children of their own. It was just her, Donovan, and the dog, and she was guilty and bored and frustrated.

So was her husband. He wasn't here. Had been spending longer and longer nights at the casinos. When business was good he had to stay on top of things, and when it was bad he had to work harder. He would have been different with children to pour his passions into. But she'd waited too long, had made too many mistakes.

Her shoulders slumped, her chest hollowing out. The loss of Pen had started the slide. Her sister had never forgiven her. She'd never forgiven herself. And the thought of failing with another child...

“Riga?” Donovan asked.

Riga and her doppelganger looked toward the empty steps that lead to the foyer.

She shook herself. This was a vision, a trap. This wasn't her future —
but it was possible
— it wouldn't happen. She'd find Pen.

Wrenching her gaze from her older self, she turned toward the lake. Its reflection rippled, and her insides lurched. She squinted her eyes shut.

Focusing on the hotel room in New Orleans, she opened her eyes.

The dark lake spread before her. The dog watched her then laid its head on its paws. Stomach churning, she twisted her wedding band.

“Take me back!”

The dog yawned, looked away.

What if she couldn't get out of this?

Riga gripped the grand piano, her knuckles going white. Once she'd recognized she was in a vision, she should have easily returned to the here and now. Which meant there had been a trap laid on the pendant. And that, in turn, meant that someone had Pen. Someone she had to find.

If she could break the trap, she could follow the path of magic to its maker, the person who had Pen. Think!

It had begun with reflections. The reflection of the pendant, and then in the river. Forcing her to look at this reflection of herself. It was a mirror trap.

The windows reflected her own figure back at her, and now she could see the age there too. The hardness. Nostrils flaring, she turned sharply, slammed her elbow into the glass. Hot pain rocked her, and the sound of glass shattering. With a lurch, she was on her back on the hotel room carpet, staring up at Donovan's face.

He ran a hand through his hair. “You're back. I was getting worried.”

“I came out too soon.” She rolled to her elbow, and he helped her to a seated position.

Brigitte squatted between her aunts. Pale and unconscious, the two women sprawled across the circle of salt. They twitched and murmured as if caught in the throes of nightmares. Sweat beaded their brows and gray faces.

The gargoyle peered at Dot. “I do not like this. Ze color is not normal.”

“Dammit.” Riga crawled to Peregrine and felt for a pulse. It was thin, uneven. “Peregrine! Dot! It's a mirror trap!” She slapped her lightly on the cheeks. Peregrine's head lolled.

Head bowed, Donovan took Dot's wrist. He looked up. “Brigitte is right. They need to snap out of this.”

Riga hesitated. There was only one spell she knew that could free her aunts. It would also end any chance of finding Pen through the necklace.

Dot's breath hitched. Her legs vibrated, heels banging up and down on the floor grotesquely.

“I'm calling 9-1-1.” Donovan rose.

“Wait.” Swearing, Riga felt for the in-between, the above and below. She chanted the spell. Electricity rippled up her spine, stirred her hair.

The lights flickered. A bulb exploded in the overhead lamp, and Brigitte ducked her head.

Her aunts stirred.

“We were right.” Dot coughed. “It was a trap after all.”

“Right!?” Rolling to her side, Peregrine levered herself up on one elbow, her thin arm trembling. “There were three of us. That trap should have been no problem.”

Dot straightened her glasses. “Were you able to follow its trail to the person who laid the spell?”

“No.” Peregrine growled. “I snapped out too quickly. I take it you didn't either?”

Riga and Donovan helped them to the couch.

“I don't know about you,” Donovan said, “but I could use a drink. What happened?”

“Brandy, neat,” Peregrine said.

“I don't suppose you've got any sherry?” Dot asked.

Donovan strode to the bar, held up a bottle. “Will port do?”

“Any port in a storm.” Dot laughed weakly. “Riga, did you have any better luck than we did?”

“No. I couldn't get anywhere near Pen.”

“That was surprisingly powerful. How did you get us out of it?” Peregrine asked.

“My electrical spell,” Riga said.

“What?” Peregrine placed a bony hand to her chest. “But you know that will scrub any trace of Pen from that pendant!”

“We'll find her another way.”

“How?”

“Detective work.” Riga turned and walked into the bedroom. Stopping in front of the mirror, she braced her hands on the bureau and took a shuddering breath. The vision had been a fake, designed to trap her in her own fear and ego. She'd find Pen. And as to her and Donovan, they could adopt. He wanted children, and there was always a way. That vision would not come true.

There was a light rap on the door, and Donovan walked inside. He shut the door softly behind him. “Riga? Are you all right?”

“A little shaken, that's all. How are the aunts?”

“Embarrassed, I think.” He ran his hands down her arms. “You did the right thing. They weren't holding up well. And we'll find Pen.”

“Someone took Pen's pendant,” Riga said, “laid a complex spell on it, knocked out the PI, and left it for us to find. She's been taken.” She leaned into him, felt the rising and falling of his chest.

His arms encircled her. “What happened in there?”

“It was only a nightmare. It wasn't real.” But what if it had been?

Stepping back, he looked into her eyes. “If someone has her, they'll be a ransom demand.”

“Maybe.”

“I've been thinking about Hannah,” he said. “Why did the Old Man lead us to her?”

“And why was Pen taken while we were with her? I need to run a background check on the Hoodoo Queen and Jenny Wade.”

In the other room, Riga's cell phone rang. They glanced at each other worriedly.

Riga hurried into the living area and snatched her phone off the table. Pen's name flashed on the screen.

She jammed the phone to her ear. “Pen?”

“Sorry, Pen's tied up,” Jenny said.

Riga's neck corded, blood pounding in her ears. “Let me talk to her.”

“Not yet. You're going to—”

Riga hung up, hands shaking.

“Who?” Donovan asked.

“Jenny Wade. She has Pen.”

“And you hung up on her?” Dot's eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

Riga paced the narrow corridor between the table and the back of the couch. “Taking control.” Jenny didn't know what she was doing, and that presented an opportunity.

Dot shook your head. “I don't think—”

“Let me do this!”

The phone rang again. Twice.

Riga picked up. “Put Pen on.”

“You don't seem to understand the situation—”

“I want proof she's alive. I want her on the phone, or you get nothing.”

“You are not—”

Riga hung up, heart leaping, looked at Donovan.

He nodded.

“I am not sure it is such a good idea to provoke ze woman,” Brigitte said.

Riga turned to her aunts. “How do you two feel about a little B and E?”

“Breaking and entering?” Peregrine cocked her head. “You are a cool one.”

Dot sniffed. “I've always said she's good in a crisis.”

“I'm a multitasker,” Riga said. “Well? Will you do it?”

“I've never turned down a crime in a good cause.”

The phone rang. Riga picked up.

“Riga?” Pen's voice wavered.

Riga slumped, relief flooding her system. “What can you tell me?”

“It's dark. I can't see. Magic, I think. Does my mom know?”

“She knows, Pen. We'll get you back.”

There was a clatter on the other end.

“Only if you do what I say,” Jenny said. “I'll call you tomorrow and tell you where to come. Come alone.”

“No, Pen will call me tomorrow. I do nothing without proof of life.”

“You're in no position to bargain.”

“Aren't I? I've seen what the Old Man did to your friends. You want me as badly as I want Pen.” The phone's plastic creaked beneath her tightening fingers. “And if you hurt her, I'll gut you barehanded.”

“Interesting visual. And Riga, if you bring the cops in, I'll know, and she'll die.”

“How original.”

“Who do you think your two cops on that silly reality show work for?”

Riga's breath hitched. Long and Short? Was it possible?

“Why do you think you were allowed to get involved in those investigations,” Jenny continued, “to stay involved as long as you did? And they aren't my only friends on the force. No police.”

“No police,” Riga said dully.

“Tomorrow, then.” Jenny hung up.

“Well?” Brigitte asked.

Riga looked at the others. “She's going to call tomorrow with my orders.”

“It will be a trap,” Donovan said. “It's time we bring in the police.”

Rubbing her arms, Riga walked to the thermostat and fiddled with it. Suddenly, the room felt frigid. Unable to meet their gazes, she focused on the dial. “Jenny said the cops on Dirk's show are in her pay, and she's got others on the take.”

“Do you believe her?” Donovan asked.

“I've consulted with police before, so it made sense they'd use me. But there was a point where even I realized I was looking like a suspect, yet they kept me in. So it's possible. What do you think?”

“Police are human,” Donovan said, “they can be corrupted.”

“She said to come alone.”

“That's not going to happen, no matter what she says. We need to discuss how we're going to handle this.”

“I agree. We need to find Pen before her call,” Riga said. “Dot and Peregrine, if you two go to her house and get something that belongs to her—”

“We can scry their location.” Dot nodded, her chins wobbling. “You have her address?”

Donovan opened his mouth as if to speak, but went to the desk, wrote the address on a piece of hotel stationary, handed it to Peregrine.

“We'll go now,” Peregrine said, “while it's still dark. What will you three be doing?”

“Learning everything I can about Jenny and the hoodoo queen,” Riga said.

“Sounds like a sixties rock band,” Dot said. “Who's the hoodoo queen?”

“Hannah LaRue. The Old Man's been pointing me in her direction.”

“Then it's likely a distraction,” Peregrine said.

“Maybe.” Riga leaned her hip against the table. “But I made a mistake with Jenny, not considering her a part of this. I'm not going to make that error twice. Everyone's a suspect.”

“Come on, Dot.” Peregrine grabbed her purse off the table. “We're wasting moonlight.”

“Fortunately, there's not much of that.” Dot followed her sister to the door. “Tomorrow will be the new moon.” She paused, turning to Riga. “Coincidence, you think, the new moon is when Jenny plans to spring her trap?”

“Not a coincidence,” Riga said. “But it does give me an idea.”

Riga sat at the desk in the living area, her laptop open before her, dog at her feet. Outside the curtained window, the sky had lightened to steel, the mansard roofs of the French Quarter cobalt silhouettes.

Fear for Pen slithered through Riga's gut. Uneven surges of adrenaline wore her down, made her hands tremble.

She glanced out the windows. Brigitte would have to return soon. The gargoyle was out circling the city, her sharp eyes and magical senses searching for Pen. In the bedroom next door, Donovan's voice rumbled, making phone calls, calling in favors.