Witches of Bourbon Street (2 page)

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.

Chapter 2

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.