Maudlin's Mayhem (Bewitching Bedlam Book 2)

“I can’t do much about it if she has a POA. Yes, tell the morgue to prepare the body for you—or what’s left of it. His things? Yes, I’ll tell her. No, I said I’ll tell her. She can bring them here and leave them for you. No, I am not going to accompany you to her door to get them. Deal with it and tell your mistress to suck it up.” Delia slammed down the phone. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Who were you talking to?” I had the horrible feeling I had been included in the conversation in a way that I really didn’t want to be.

  “Shar-Shar. Essie’s human lapdog. Sharlene is Essie’s secretary who deals with all her business affairs during the day. Shar-Shar is more than a secretary, actually. The woman is a bloodhound. If there’s something Essie wants, she makes sure Essie gets it.”

  I had had it up to my eyebrows with Essie.

  “Essie can kiss my ass. She’s behind all of this. I know it. And any fucking vampire who hurts me or my loved ones can take a ride on my broomstick.” Exasperated, I flailed and a sudden flame caught hold in my hand. I stared at it, frowning.

  “Maddy, put that out. Right now, before you set off the sprinkler system.” Delia wasn’t angry, she just gave me a warning look.

  Frustrated, I pulled the fire back. But that didn’t stop my fingers from itching. When I had snuffed out the flame, all I could think about was taking my long silver spike that I had recently dug out of the keepsake chest and driving it through Essie’s chest. I had learned over the years that there were good vampires. But vamps like Essie gave the entire set a freakshow bad name.

  “You will not go attack Essie. I can read you loud and clear. Listen, if she’s guilty of hexing you, we’ll figure out what to do about it. But if you dust her, that leaves her throne open to every wannabe in the area. And Maddy, you know as well as I do that there are bigger and badder vamps out there than Essie. A lot worse.” Delia held my gaze for a moment.

  I reined in my anger, but I was still seething. “All right. You make a good point.” I debated telling her that she didn’t know just how big or how bad some of them were, but I wasn’t sure how secure her office was. “Delia, how well protected do you keep this office?” I brought out a notebook and scribbled, Bugs, cameras? I showed it to her.

  She blinked. “That’s a good question, and one I wish I had the answer to. We do a sweep every so often, but there’s never any guarantee. How about if I walk you out after we’re done here? I want to get that recipe for cornbread from you.”

  I stared at her like she was crazy. I didn’t cook. But then I realized that she was giving me a chance to talk to her privately. “Oh, right. It’s Aegis’s recipe, but man, it’s good. Anyway, what did Shar-Shar want?”

  “Shar-Shar wanted to tell me that Essie will be claiming Thornton’s body. And they want you to return his possessions. Apparently—” she shook her head as I was about to protest. “Apparently, Essie has a signed power of attorney giving her the right to collect his worldly goods. He signed it when he went to work for her five years ago. There’s nothing we can do.”

  For some reason, my heart ached when I heard that. Thornton had probably signed his soul over to her—metaphorically speaking, of course. Vamps didn’t collect souls. But they collected lives.

  “I’ll bring everything to the station,” I said with a quiet shrug.

  “They wanted to come to your house to make certain…”

  “That I didn’t keep anything? They can fuck the hell off. I said I’ll bring his things to the station. If Essie doesn’t like it, she can fu—forget about it.” I let out a long sigh, deflating like a popped balloon. The buzz from my mocha had died down and I felt exhausted.

  “That will be fine. I told Shar-Shar that.” Delia nodded toward the door. “Come on, walk me out to the parking lot. I need to get something from my truck, anyway.”

  As we headed out the door, all I could think about was the happy man who had just wanted to get away from a bad relationship, who had brightened my life for just a little while.

  OUTSIDE, I MOTIONED for Delia to walk over to my CR-V. “Here’s the deal. I wasn’t going to bring you into this, but I think you should know. But do not tell anybody else without asking me, or your life could be in danger. Mine already is.” I paused. “Actually, do you want to know? What I have to say could affect your life and your job at some point in the future.”

  “I make it my habit to keep informed,” Delia said. “What did you manage to dig up?”

  “You remember when I was on vacation in January? Aegis and I went up to the Astra Alpine Chalet?” I shivered. The chalet had been beautiful. What had happened there had not been so lovely.

  “You were caught in that avalanche, right?”

  “Correct. I won’t want to go into everything that happened, but I discovered that there’s a secret society of ancient vampires called the Arcānus Nocturni. We’re talking older than Aegis and definitely older than Essie. A number of vampires probably don’t even know they exist.”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Delia said.

  “You’ll like it a whole lot less when I tell you their biggest secret.” There was no way to ease into the matter. “Delia, these vampires can walk under the sun.”

  She stared at me. “No. You’re joking, right?” But the look on her face told me she knew I was serious.

  “They’re immune to the sunlight. They can walk among us and we’d never know by looking or talking to them that they were vampires. Unless you happen to notice they aren’t breathing or you touch them and feel their cold skin. Delia, they have long memories, and I’m pretty sure they have an agenda that doesn’t include our welfare on it. I’ll tell you all about the trip some day, once I stop having nightmares. But trust me, when you say there are worse vampires than Essie, you’re not kidding.”

  “Are you sure Essie isn’t part of this society?” Delia asked.

  “Not entirely, but I really doubt she has anything to do with them. Essie likes her power too much to accept anybody else’s rules. But you and I both know the vampires are trying to dig a toehold in Bedlam. Even without the Arcānus Nocturni behind them, that’s scary enough.”

  “True. So now we have both Essie to contend with and the possibility of this secret society trying to wedge their way in. Just what I wanted to hear. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

  I thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m not certain. All I know is that I need to find someone who can break a Dirt Magic hex, because Aegis really needs to turn back into himself instead of hanging around as a bat. Not to mention, I’m tired of feeling like Typhoid Mary. Hey, do you know somebody named Garret James? Sandy mentioned he might know how to break a curse.”

  “Cripes, she really gets around, doesn’t she? I do know Garret. He’s basically a good-hearted person, but I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side. And I’m not sure if he has any ties to Essie, so walk softly, Maddy.”

  “I will.” I hadn’t thought about the possibility that he might be in cahoots with the vampire queen. “All right, I’m heading out. I’ll drop off Thornton’s possessions tomorrow. If Essie complains—”

  “I know, she can suck your ass.” Delia laughed. “But I’ll find a better way of wording it. Meanwhile,” she sobered, her laugh disappearing, “you be careful. Given what you’ve told me, you need to watch your step, Maddy. Vampires who can walk in the sunlight… None of us would be safe at any time.”

  “Trust me, I’ve thought about that.” As I drove off, watching her in my rearview mirror, it occurred to me that Delia had to walk a very tricky tightrope as the sheriff. I could never pull it off.

  I WAS HUNGRY, so pulled into the drive-thru window at Piper’s Chicken. While I was in line waiting for my order, I called Sandy for Garret’s information and she texted me his address.

  “Thanks. Say, how are things going with the arrangements for Bart’s funeral?” With the focus mainly on my problems, she hadn’t had much of a c
hance to talk through her pain.

  Sandy let out a soft sigh. “It’s going. It’s hard because his ex—the waiter—is sticking his nose in. He’s all out of joint because he thinks Bart should have left him a big wad of money. But they weren’t married, and Bart broke up with him some time ago. I helped build the diners to the success they are today, and that little bitch can keep his fingers out of the pie.”

  She paused. Then, “Oh, Maddy. I didn’t think this would hit me so hard. I was so angry when Bart first told me he was leaving—and it somehow made it worse that it was for a man. I never forgave him for not telling me when he first realized he was gay. He broke our vows, he broke my trust. But over the years, he’s done what he could to rebuild it. I know he was sorry. I never stopped loving him, though that love changed over the years. When he stopped trying to be a good husband, he actually became a good friend.”

  The pain in her voice was palpable. I wasn’t sure what to say. If I had been over at her house, I could have rubbed her back, or hugged her, or just held her hand while she talked, but the phone felt so freaking impersonal.

  “Bart knew that you cared about him, and he cared about you. You two had the best post-breakup relationship I’ve ever seen. We’ll do a Cord Cutting ceremony that would make him proud, but only when you’re ready. And I’ll be there for the service. I promise, I’ll walk you through it.”

  She cried for a little longer, then hiccupped and sniffed away the tears. “Thanks. That means so much to me.”

  My chicken was ready. “I have to hang up now, but I’ll call you in a while. Love you.”

  She let out a soft, “Love you too.”

  The driver behind me honked and I thought about flipping him off, but decided there was too much anger in the world already without creating more ill will. I pulled forward, paid for my order, and then eased back onto the street. Garret’s house was on the other side of the island, so I headed toward Rosewood Road—the main road that encircled the island. I flipped on some classical music to calm my mood and tried to push away my worries.

  GARRET LIVED IN the shady section of Bedlam. It wasn’t exactly the wrong side of the tracks, but it didn’t pay to walk through the streets in his neighborhood unless you either had a big, nasty dog, or a big, nasty stick. Or if you were recognized as having a big, nasty reputation.

  I pulled up in front of his house and turned off the engine, staring up at the dilapidated shack that passed for a one-story cottage. Once, it may have been beautiful and cozy, but now it just looked like a weathered box that was falling apart. The color was an unappealing mustard, like baby shit, and the paint was peeling off in long flakes. I could sense the ghosts hanging around the house. There were numerous spirits hanging out. Next door gave an explanation for at least some of the spiritual activity. Garret’s neighbor happened to be a graveyard, old enough to have lost its luster and even its somber dignity. It just looked like one of the sets from Plan 9 From Outer Space.

  The house was built on a high slope, so there were two sets of steps leading up to the door—the first led to a wide yard, then another led to a smaller yard surrounding the house. I forced myself to get out of the car and cautiously navigate the broken concrete steps leading to the first sub-yard. The steps were so much rubble, and weeds were thick, growing through the cracks.

  But as I approached the walkway directly in front of the porch, something felt off. I frowned, squinting, as wavy lines shimmered in the air.

  Damn it—I knew it. There was a glamour over the property. Pausing, I breathed out slowly, opening my third eye as I whispered a charm for clear sight.

  When I opened my eyes, the grunge and grime were gone. In place of the shack stood a charming cottage, with a line of daffodils and tulips surrounding the foundation. I glanced back at the steps—they weren’t broken, nor did the yard look overgrown. Instead, the grass was tended, the paint on the cottage was a warm golden color, and the roof didn’t look like it was about to collapse.

  So that was the way Garret kept people from thinking he might be good pickings. Realizing he probably wouldn’t realize I had seen through his illusion, I ascended the porch steps and looked for the doorbell. There didn’t seem to be one, so I knocked on the screen door. Another moment and I knocked again. Finally, I heard a shuffling noise and the door opened.

  A man stood there. He was dark skinned with silver hair, and he was wearing a turtleneck and a pair of jeans. His hair was long, in thin dreads, and he had clear, hazel eyes. There was something about the way he moved that made him seem incredibly graceful and sinuous. Yep, he was a snakeshifter, all right.

  “Garret James?” I eyed him carefully, trying to keep in mind there might be a chance he was mixed up with Essie.

  “Who wants to know?”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m Maudlin Gallowglass—”

  “Oh, the new leader of the Moonrise Coven.” He let out a soft snort. “What do you want? You here to make me move on? To get me to rethink my ways?”

  I frowned, not sure what the hell he was talking about. “I have no clue what you’re going on about, but this is a personal matter and I’m hoping you might have some advice for me.”

  That brought a look of surprise to his face. He paused, tilting his head, then he opened the door. “Come on in, if you like.”

  I followed him in to find myself in a neat, tidy room. The cottage was as small as it looked on the outside. I could see a kitchenette from where I stood, and two other doors, which I figured probably led to the bathroom and the bedroom. The living room was fairly generous, with one side given over to a small table and chairs, a sofa, TV, and a desk. The other side held what I recognized as a magical workbench and an altar. A wall of books stretched halfway around the room. Everything was neat, everything was orderly.

  “You keep a tight ship, Mr. James.” I motioned to the table. “May I sit down?”

  He nodded, taking the opposite chair at the small table. “What do you want?”

  “I heard rumors you may be fluent in Dirt Magic. I thought I’d come ask you myself.”

  “You may have heard correctly. I work roots and dirt. I know the Moonrise Coven doesn’t take kindly to that, but it’s what I learned from my grandma and it’s what I’ll practice till the day I die.” His words practically flowed out in song, and I found myself mesmerized by the tone of his voice. Then another veil lifted and I caught a glimpse of his eyes. The pupils were slits, running vertically, dark against a flame-colored background.

  “Snake-shifter.”

  “So you do have full use of the sight. Not many can tell at first, though I know rumors run the town.” He eased back in his chair, grinning at me. “I know my kind aren’t always welcome.”

  I laughed at that. “Garret—over the years I’ve found over that most of us are unwelcome at one point or another. I’m really not here to complain. If Linda had a beef with you, well…until I see a problem, I’m not looking for one.”

  “What do you need, Mad Maudlin?” He leaned forward, his eyes bright. “You see, I’ve heard a little about you, too.”

  There was no way to ease into it. If he was working with Essie, she’d know I was on to her after this, but that wouldn’t be the first time I had to play a hand at face value.

  “Somebody cast a hex on me and I need to know how to break it. It’s a Dirt Magic curse. They didn’t hit my house with it, but they managed to tag a few of my friends and it’s caused a lot of heartbreak and difficulty. And you know as well as I do that to break certain hexes, you have to go to the core of the magic involved.”

  He held my gaze for a moment, then tapped the table three times with his knuckles. A faint light appeared in the air, like a wispy veil, and it floated over to surround me. The moment the light met my aura, it began to glow a faint red. Red as blood.

  “You certainly know how to piss off people, don’t you? You’ve been hexed by a Dirt Witch, all right. A queen, it looks like. If you don’t bre
ak this curse, I can tell you that it will kill you and your friends.”

  Chapter 12

  A DIRT WITCH? A queen?

  “I hear tell the local queen of the vampires was a Voudou priestess before she was turned.” There was no way to pussyfoot around it.

  Garret raised his eyebrows. “I hear so, too, but it’s best to steer clear of the undead unless you have some control over them. And nobody has control over Essie Vanderbilt.” He motioned for me to stand up. “I hope you don’t mind, but I want to make sure you aren’t being spied on.”

  I nodded and stood, holding out my arms. He ran his hands around my aura. I could see the energy flare here and there, but no holes, no telltale voids to indicate that somebody had a psychic phone line jacked into me.

  “That good enough for you?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. Come over to my station.” He led me over to his magical worktable and motioned for me to take a seat on the bench next to it. “So yes, there’s a Dirt Witch Queen somewhere around. That much I can read from the hex cast on you. I’m not sure if Essie knows Dirt Magic as well as Voudou, but I wouldn’t put it past her. Whoever did this to you is a powerful woman. The most powerful workers of roots and twigs are always women.” He paused. “So, what do you know about Dirt Magic? I mean really know. Not what you’ve been spoon-fed about it.”

  I shrugged. “It’s shadow magic. Heavy in nature.”

  “That’s because it’s tied to the soil, to the Earth. Of course it’s heavy. But seriously, Dirt Magic can be a harsh mistress when she wants to be. She’s not clean and neat, like the magic you work. I can smell the singe of fire wafting off your aura just like I can smell your perfume. You reek of smoke and bonfires and autumn, Maddy. And it’s a good scent—I love that time of year. But you’re steeped in just as much of a shadow as I am.”

  I nodded. “True. There isn’t a power alive that can’t be misused if the wrong person gets hold of it.”