Black Heart Loa (27 page)

Eyes burning, Kallie decided to place a quick call to Lord Augustine’s assistant at the Prestige and check on Dallas’s condition. Maybe she’d get some good news there.

When Felicity answered, even though their conversation was brief, Kallie received the good news she was hoping for—Dallas’s recovery was proceeding at an amazing pace.

“I suspect the magic snafus might be responsible for it,” Felicity said, her normally smooth British tones clipped and rushed. “Just as they are for the change in the hurricane wards—I need to start evacuating the guests.”

“You’ve heard about that, then,” Kallie said, surprised.

“Indeed,” Felicity replied, her voice tinged with amusement. “The Hecatean Alliance has a wide information network. Magic
is
our business, after all. And with its current state of disarray, we’ve certainly had our hands full here, what with the carnival.”

Thinking of all the magic practitioners attending the annual May Madness fest in News Orleans, Kallie could only imagine.
Yikes.

“Yeah, we’ve been having problems here too,” Kallie said. “My aunt thinks it’s due to a hex laid down by Doctor Heron. But …”

“But you disagree?” Felicity asked quietly. “What do you believe is causing it?”

“I don’t know,” Kallie lied, unable to give voice to her suspicions—or at least not to a woman she barely knew. “I hope we find out soon.”

“As do I,” Felicity murmured. “I’m afraid I really must go, Ms. Rivière. It seems that a contingent of wands, dolls, and chalices have taken over the dealer’s room.”

Kallie blinked. Yikes again.

“But I’m sure Mr. Brûler would be very happy to hear from you.” Giving Kallie Dallas’s room number in the med center and a polite farewell, Felicity ended the conversation.

When Kallie heard Dallas’s voice on the other end of the line, low and little rough like after a hard night of drinking, she said, “I’m sorry I punched you, Dallas. You were right all along and if you’d—”

“Whoa. Stop right there. Who the hell is this?”

Kallie paused, wondering if there was something Felicity hadn’t told her about the root doctor’s condition or if this was some aftereffect of whatever pain meds he’d been given; but before she could say anything, he continued speaking.

“’Cause this sure as hell can’t be Kallie. The word
sorry
ain’t in her vocabulary.”

“Goddammit, Dal, I’m trying to apologize here.”

“Must be under a spell, then,” he teased. “You okay, hun?” he asked, all humor vanishing from his voice. “I heard about what happened, about Doctor Heron, and your goddamned aunt too.”

“Me?”
Kallie protested. “I’m fine. I ain’t the one lying in a hospital bed full of transfused blood. How the hell are
you
?”

“Worried,” he admitted. “I been watching the news
about the hurricane. They’re saying that landfall might be near Houma and might be as soon as thirty-six hours. They’re gonna evacuate me to a hospital in Baton Rouge. Just to be on the safe side.”

Kallie puzzled over his sudden switch in subject. “I’m glad. I’ll breathe a little easier knowing you’re farther inland.” She paused a beat, then tackled the elephant in the airwaves. “Dal, about what Divinity did—”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he said, cutting her off, voice flat. “Not yet. And I plan to talk to
her
first—who-ever she claims to be—when I do.”

Kallie couldn’t blame Dallas. Divinity had lied to him too. And her lie had slashed a knife across his throat. “I hear you,
cher,
” she said softly.

“I know you do, hun.”

Kallie told Dallas about the tainted wards, but not about Jackson. Knowing how fond the root doctor was of her wayward cousin, she worried that he’d try to haul himself out of his hospital bed to aid in the search.

In many ways, she, Jackson, and their aunt
were
Dallas’s family.

“Y’all keep safe, y’hear?” Dallas said. “If the problem with the wards doesn’t get fixed, this blowdown is gonna be a motherfucker.”

Kallie’s gut knotted. “I know. You keep safe too. I’ll talk to you later.”

She stared at the ceiling for a long moment after the conversation ended, heart pounding, Felicity’s words rolling along the edge of her thoughts like a hurricane warning at the bottom of a newscast.

What do you believe is causing it?

The raucous and nerve-jarring buzz of the dryer
brought Kallie to her feet. Hoping the damned thing hadn’t awakened Belladonna, she hurried down the hall. A quick glance into Belladonna’s room revealed her friend facedown and still drooling on her pillow. A smile twitched across Kallie’s lips.

Stopping in the doorway, she used her cell phone to snap a picture of Drooling Beauty. After checking the screen to make sure she’d captured the moment, Kallie continued on to the dryer.

But as she yanked Layne’s warm jeans, socks, and black Inferno T-shirt out of the dryer, her thoughts returned to the storm and her gut feeling—despite Divinity’s words to the contrary—that she, or rather the
loa
inside her,
was
somehow responsible for the magic misfires and the hurricane’s rapid approach.

What do you believe is causing it?

Me.

Kallie couldn’t help but wonder if this was what her mama had tried to unleash when she’d pulled the trigger nine years ago.

Sorry, baby. I ain’t got a choice.

The old familiar anger seared the back of Kallie’s throat. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. Gathering up Layne’s clothes, pressing their lingering warmth against her chest, Kallie marched for the door, pondering her options.

One: Do nothing. Allow the hurricane to destroy cities, ecosystems, and lives—both human and animal—and devastate the Louisiana coast and economy. Oh, and the best part of this particular option? More hurricanes would follow Evelyn, since the goddamned wards would still be broken and broadcasting a Welcome! signal. The fun would continue nonstop.

Two: Summon Baron Samedi and hand herself over. Let him yank the
loa
out of her body and allow him to do whatever he needed to do to stop the hurricane, restore magic’s natural flow, and save everyone and everything she loves—people and land. The cost? Her own life.

Three: Try to remove the
loa
herself. Of course, she would have less than thirty-six hours to accomplish it if she hoped to stop the hurricane. Otherwise, she’d have no choice but to summon the Baron. Provided he didn’t find her first.

Kallie mentally exed out option number one, since it wasn’t even in the running.
Do nothing. Yeah, right.
But before she did anything, she needed to find Jackson, pull him out of the fire Doctor Heron and a mistaken identity had tossed him into.

As she unlocked and opened the apartment’s front door, a sleepy voice asked, “Where you off to, Shug?”

“I thought you were still droo—I mean, sleeping,” Kallie replied, swiveling around, her hand still resting on the doorknob. “I’m running Layne’s clothes downstairs and checking on his progress. You should go back to bed.”

Belladonna eyed her dubiously. “Did you sleep?”

Kallie never even blinked. “Yup. And I plan to come back up to get a little more.”

“Oh. Okay.” Belladonna flapped a hand at her, dismissing her, then yawned. “Maybe another hour wouldn’t hurt.”

As Belladonna shuffled back to bed, Kallie quietly left the apartment and headed downstairs to the botanica.

“H
ow is he?” Kallie
asked as she walked into the darkened consultation room, Layne’s clothes in her arms.

“Resting,” Gabrielle said with a smile. She sat in the rocker beside the bed.

“He took a nasty knock to de head, him,” Divinity replied from where she sat at her worktable, her gaze focused on the table’s surface. Candlelight flickered against her face, casting shadows. “But his helmet saved him from a broken skull. Concussion, bruises, and road rash from his spill, but boy will be living to ride anudder day.”

Kallie exhaled in relief, a smile warming her lips.
“Ça c’est bon.”

“Mmm-hmm. Dat it is. I always heard dat nomads got t’ick ol’ stubborn skulls. Must be true.”

Kallie laughed, low in her throat. “Another good thing,” she said, then amended, “Except when he’s being man-stupid.”

“Ain’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Divinity asked, voice sharp. “I t’ought we had an understanding, girl.”

“I know, I know.” Kallie sighed. “But I couldn’t
sleep. I kept thinking of Jackson and I was watching the news about the hurricane and …” She shrugged. “I just couldn’t.”

Divinity swiveled around on her stool and eyed Kallie in the dim light, arms folded underneath her breasts. “Mmm-hmmm.” Her tone of voice suggested that she intended to do something about that particular little problem.

Kallie promised herself not to drink anything her
tante
offered. Resting the folded pile of clothes on the night-stand, she slowly sat down on the bed beside Layne, careful not to jostle the mattress and wake him.

Layne’s face looked peaceful, the lines of pain that had tightened his features gone, his skin no longer chalk-white. He was half turned onto his side, facing the wall, one athletic arm draped along his hip, his long blond dreads trailing across the sheet and over his muscled bare shoulder.

Like a sleeping Greek god or an enchanted Viking warrior awaiting the kiss that would open his eyes. Heat pulsed in Kallie’s veins.

Leaning forward, Kallie breathed in the sandalwood and sweet orange scent of Layne’s thick, coiled hair. She also smelled sage and myrrh on his skin, mingled with something astringent.

“Comfrey?” she asked, glancing at Divinity. “A health wash?”

“Dat’s right, along with salve for his abrasions.”

Resisting the urge to press her lips against Layne’s, Kallie reluctantly straightened and shifted her attention to her aunt. “Have you had time to do a reading? About Jackson?”

“Dat I did, me. Just finished one.” Divinity nodded at the table.

Gabrielle stood. “If you don’t need anything else, then I’ll be heading to Crowley for this Addie Martin’s conclave of local conjurers.”

“A meeting?” Kallie asked, glancing from one woman to the next. “What kind of meeting?”

“A meeting to figure out how to fix de mess we all be in,” Divinity replied, candle flame highlighting her grim expression. “Before it be too late.” She inclined her head at the mambo. “Gabrielle’s going in my place, since we got yo’ cousin and yo’ dreaming nomad to contend with.”

Dread and guilt twisted through Kallie. “Yeah,” she said, voice low. “We need to talk about that.”

“Dat we do. But in due time, child.” Divinity looked at Gabrielle. “You got de address and directions?”

“I do, yes.” Gabrielle crossed to the doorway, cords whisking with each step, then she paused. “I’m heading home first. I’ve got my own place, my own people, to worry about. Once I have things squared away, I’ll head over to Crowley. I’ll let you know what happens, but I’m not coming back—not right away.”

“Dat’s understood,” Divinity said. “I can’t t’ank you enough for everyt’ing.”

Gabrielle half turned and looked at Divinity, one hand on the threshold. Her face was composed, cold. But Kallie saw fire simmering in her eyes.

“We’re not finished, you and me,” she said. “We got stuff to work out.
Big
stuff.”

Divinity met the mambo’s gaze and held it. “True, dat. I ain’t going nowhere. When dis nightmare be fixed and done, I’ll take care of my debt to you.”

With a curt nod, Gabrielle strode from the room and out the botanica’s back door. A few moments later, Kallie heard the VW’s engine start up.

“How do you plan to make it up to her for stealing her identity?” Kallie asked.

“I’ll t’ink o’ somet’ing,” Divinity replied. Rising to her feet, she went to the rocker Gabrielle had just vacated and plunked down into it. “Go take a look at de reading. Tell me what you see.”

“Okay.” Easing up from the bed, Kallie padded over to the worktable. Perching on the stool, she studied the cards and shells arranged on top of the table. She smelled fragrant frankincense from the white votive candle placed at the head of the cards, its light dancing across their slick surfaces.

Seven rows of six cards each formed a square that was read from left to right, then from top to bottom, again going down from left to right. She scanned the layout—
so many goddamned spade cards
—several cards in particular capturing her attention.

King of diamonds:
An older man or a green-eyed man with blond or red hair

Nine of spades:
Disappointment and failure, sorrow or tears

Eight of spades:
Controversy, conflict with others or even family members

King of spades:
Bad luck coming from a man

Queen of hearts:
A woman with blue or gray or hazel eyes

Jack of clubs:
A male child or a flirtatious person of either sex

Jack of hearts:
A female child or a proposal of marriage; a promise

Ace of spades:
A change of residence or unexpected, rapid events; death

Queen of spades:
Bad luck coming from a woman

Ace of hearts:
Home and environment

An icy blade of fear pierced Kallie’s heart when she realized that the ace of spades was nestled against both the queen and king of spades, altering the meanings of the cards.

A woman will die. A man will die.

With the queens of spades and hearts both in play, the doomed woman could either be dark-haired or one with blue, gray, or hazel eyes.

As for the doomed man … Kallie’s gaze flicked from the king of spades to the king of diamonds. A dark-haired man or maybe a blond or red-haired man with green eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

Blond. Green eyes.
Layne
.