Chasing Power (6 page)

It was hard not to feel
some
sympathy. Kayla would be freaked and scared and furious too if her mother were kidnapped. Just imagining it made her want to drape the house in even more charms and amulets. She picked up a yarn doll that loosely resembled herself. It had stringy black-and-pink hair, and Moonbeam had said Kayla’s name as she drove a pin into it—to tie the doll’s protective charms to Kayla, not to harm her, she’d explained—and then drawn a few words on it. If Kayla looked at it out of the corner of her eye, she could see the shape of almost-letters on its body. She couldn’t read them—Moonbeam had refused to teach her how—but she could sense them, which was more than most untrained people could do.

“Everywhere,” Daniel said. “Europe. Asia. South America. Mexico. Guatemala. Lots of places in the United States—Appalachia, Louisiana, New Mexico … Anywhere that has rituals for her to observe. Always looking for that one big thing that would make her career. She specialized in this crap.” He waved his hand at the basket of polished stones on the floor; the scarabs on the shelf; the quartz crystals and dreamcatchers in the windows; and the handwoven borders of tassels, herbs, and roots over the doorway. “I usually stayed in the hotel while she did her work. She’d hire a babysitter when I was younger, sometimes even a tour guide. Rarely let me come with her to any sites. Said I’d be too bored. She never mentioned any royalty.”

“You are completely unhelpful.” Selena typed more into the laptop. “Do you know how many queens there have been?”

Kayla looked down at the doll in her hand. “Voodoo queen.”

Both Selena and Daniel looked at her.

“She said ‘Ask the queen,’ so it needs to be someone alive. And this is about a spell, so it needs to be someone magical. There aren’t many living magical queens out there.” Kayla waved the voodoo doll in the air. “But Louisiana has a voodoo queen.”

Daniel shot off the stool. “I took her to New Orleans a lot.”

Selena rolled her eyes. “I asked if she had any favorite—”

“Look it up!” Daniel commanded. He shifted from foot to foot so fast that he looked as if he were vibrating. His hands were clenched, and his muscles were tense. So much for his cool, relaxed attitude. She
knew
he’d been faking it. He was hiding fear. Maybe anger. “Find me photos, and I’ll take us to the voodoo queen’s front door. All I need is a picture; then I can jump.”

Selena leaned over the laptop. Her black hair brushed against the screen. She frowned, a crease between her eyebrows. Kayla didn’t doubt that she’d find what Daniel needed. She was faster on her laptop than Kayla was with a cash register. After a few seconds, Selena said, “Every hit is Marie Laveaux. But she died, like, a century ago, and so did her daughter, who inherited the title. Looking for her descendants … and bingo.” Selena leaned back and rotated the laptop to show a picture of a beautiful black woman in a flouncy white dress, with a white scarf around her head and gold hoops dangling from her ears. She was seated in front of a blue door with a wrought-iron gate. She held drumsticks in one hand and a gris-gris bag in the other. “Queen Marguerite, distant relative of Marie Laveaux II and reigning voodoo queen of New Orleans.” Under the photo were three words: “
Ira Reginae Dolorem
.”

Kayla pointed at the Latin. “Any guesses what that means?”

Selena turned the laptop back around. “ ‘The anger of the queen brings sorrow.’ In other words, don’t piss her off. Seems reasonable for a voodoo queen. Can’t she shrink your head? Or is that another culture I’m maligning and marginalizing?”

“You read Latin?” Daniel sounded impressed.

“
Regina
, queen.
Ira
, anger.
Dolor
, sorrow. Again, smarter than I look.” Selena typed some more. “She has a shop. Also, a very cheesy website stuck in the nineties. Actually has flame wingdings.” She faked a shudder. “But seriously, don’t let her hoodoo you. She could be like Kayla’s mom—the real deal hidden under the tourist crap.”

Kayla tucked her voodoo doll back on the shelf and thought that Selena was likely right. “We’ll be careful. Can you give us an address?”

Daniel turned the laptop around to face him again. “Photos are better. I use images, not words. The more precise the image, the more precise the jump. Also, the less draining. Hardest jumps are the ‘just hop over there’ kind where ‘there’ is some vague faraway spot.”

“Hey!” Selena grabbed the laptop and turned it back toward her. “Working here.” She typed more and then rotated it again. The photo was of a street in New Orleans with old-fashioned lampposts; wrought-iron balconies; and buildings with pink, blue, and green peeling paint. One had green shutters around the door, a yellow skeleton in the window, and a black sign over the porch that read VOODOO SPELLS AND CHARMS.

“That’s it!” Kayla said. She opened a drawer and plucked out a pretty chiffon blouse. She pulled it on over her bikini top.
There
, she thought.
Slightly more respectable for seeing a queen
.

“Hold hands,” Daniel instructed.

“Oh, no, thank you.” Selena scooted back on the futon so fast she nearly flipped the laptop off her lap. “I don’t have the special magic mojo. I’m here purely as technical and emotional support.”

“But you’re involved,” Daniel said.

“In a peripheral kind of way.” Selena wiggled her fingers to shoo them away. “Go on, you crazy kids. Tell Auntie Selena all about it when you get back.”

“But we might need you,” Daniel objected.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble I’d be in if my parents found out I went to New Orleans? Call me a coward, but I’m not risking it. When my mom’s disappointed, she gets this little crease in her forehead that I think I can scientifically prove is perfectly designed to trigger the ultimate guilt trip. I’m talking the kind of guilt that has you believing you’re scum of the earth. And she does it all without saying a word. It’s like magic. Believe me, I’ve had enough of it lately.”

Outside, the chimes sang, and the gate squeaked. Kayla jumped up. Out the kitchen window, she saw Moonbeam wending her way through the garden toward the house. “Speaking of mothers … ,” Selena said, pointing out the window. “Looks like fun and games are over.”

Kayla spun back to Daniel. Never mind his fear, anger, whatever. Moonbeam was home, and his problem would have to wait. “Can’t go now. My mom’s home. You have to—”

Before she finished her sentence, his hand clamped onto her wrist, and the cottage vanished in a flash of white, black, then gray. Humidity closed around her. Air squeezed her skin, and she felt as if she were breathing soup. As her vision steadied, she saw they were on a street made of cobblestones, next to an
old-fashioned streetlamp, and across from the stretch of pastel buildings she’d seen in the photo, including the voodoo shop. The only differences from the photo were the two police cars parked in front and the police tape stretched across the door.

“Take me back,” Kayla demanded. “My mother’s home!”

Daniel strode toward the voodoo shop. “I’ll take you home when we’re done.”

“Oh, no, you don’t understand.” Lunging forward, she caught his arm. “Moonbeam takes protectiveness to an exciting new level. If I’m not home when she comes home—”

“Your friend will lie for you,” he said. “She seems resourceful.”

“Selena is
not
a good liar. She embellishes. Seriously embellishes. You have to take me back. After Moonbeam’s asleep, I’ll come with you. I swear.”

He peeled her hand off his arm. “After I talk to the queen.”

That would be too late. Moonbeam was home
now
. In a few seconds, she’d find Selena and no Kayla and no decent explanation. “I’ll scream to the police that you kidnapped me.”

“Then you can find your own way home.” Daniel’s face was flushed red. “You don’t understand how serious—”

Kayla cut him off. “Wait. Why
are
the police here?” Two police cars. And police tape across the door. Without deciding to move, she crossed the street, heading toward the shop. Daniel followed, hurrying to keep up.

He caught her shoulder, stopping her, just as two police officers emerged from the store. They removed the police tape as the door swung shut behind them. One of the officers held a notebook. Kayla sent a thought at it, trying to tug at the pages, but the policeman was clutching it too tightly. Pretending she
was interested in a store window that advertised scented soaps, Kayla loitered with Daniel on the sidewalk as the policemen conferred by their cars and then got in and drove away.

Without a word or a glance at each other, Kayla and Daniel jogged in tandem toward the voodoo shop. Daniel tried the knob. Locked. He knocked on the door as Kayla peered in the window. Behind the skeleton, drapes blocked any view of the shop interior.

From inside, a woman’s voice called, “We’re closed! Can’t you see?” She had a thick Southern accent that stretched each word like taffy.

“We’re looking for Queen Marguerite,” he called through the door. “Do you know where we can find her?” On the street, a few tourists glanced at them. Leaning against the shutters, Kayla tried to look casual. She felt her heart thump hard. Police tape and two cop cars. She had a bad feeling about this, even though they’d taken down the tape and hadn’t exited with a body or anything like that.

“Not available, y’hear? Come back next week.”

Daniel leaned against the door with his shoulder, as if he wanted to bash it down but was holding back. His body was tense. His fists, clenched. “It’s an emergency. My mother’s in danger, and we think she’s the only one who can help.”

“Queen Marguerite can’t help nobody right now. She’s helping herself. Kindly go away and come back when we’re open again.” A horse-drawn carriage clattered by. If they stayed much longer shouting through the door, they were going to draw too much attention.

She did
not
need this kind of delay. The faster they could
resolve this, the sooner she could be back with Moonbeam and Selena. Kayla whispered, “Can you jump us inside?”

Daniel shook his head. “Not without seeing it.”

“Then move.” Kayla positioned herself in front of the doorknob and concentrated on the lock. The tumblers inside shifted and clicked, and the door popped open. She pushed it open wider, and Daniel stepped in. Squeezing in with him, she peeked over his shoulder.

The store had been trashed. Display cases had been broken, and shards of glass littered the wood floor. Dolls had been eviscerated; their body parts lay on the ground. Skulls had been shattered, and masks had been torn from the walls. Bottles had been smashed. Liquid oozed over shelves. Plastic bags of herbs and powders had been ripped open, and crosses were strewn over the floor, crushed.

In the center of the chaos, a woman was sweeping shards of glass with a twig broom. She was undeniably the woman from the photo, but much older. Wrinkles had crunched her cheeks and squeezed her forehead. Her eyes were sunken into folds of skin, and her lips were cracked as dried earth. She wore a full skirt and blouse, plus a multicolored scarf around her head, knotted at the nape of her neck. Seeing them, she glared. “Out! We’re closed!”

“I’m very sorry, ma’am, Your Majesty, Queen Marguerite … but I have to talk to you,” Daniel said. “It’s life or death.”

“Everything always is. Now, shoo!” She swung the broom as if to sweep them out, and Daniel stepped back through the door, driving Kayla outside too. The woman, Queen Marguerite, muttered under her breath, and Kayla heard a hint of musical words—she was uttering some kind of spell. The door slammed shut on its own, and Kayla heard locks click.

Daniel put his hand on Kayla’s wrist. White. Black. Brown. They were inside again, on the opposite side of the shop, behind Queen Marguerite. “Daniel,” Kayla whispered. Queen Marguerite was the real deal, despite all the crushed kitsch on the floor. Maybe they shouldn’t bust in here.

“We don’t mean any harm,” Daniel said. “My mother told me to talk to you.”

Queen Marguerite spun on her heels to face them, very quickly for a woman who looked as old as she did. “Back again?” Broom held like a staff, she scampered closer, and Kayla retreated, pressing against a wall. An antlered mask, hanging by only a frayed thread, pressed against her. Stopping a few inches from Daniel, the voodoo queen stared at his face, then her eyes widened, the whites standing out brilliantly against her dark skin. The tone of her voice changed. “Evelyn’s boy. Well, well. Pity she involved you too.”

“You know my mother? Involved me in what?”

“In this! Look at my shop! My life’s work. My mother’s life’s work. This shop was her and my legacy, and now it’s … it’s … Words fail me. Your mother has failed me. She led them to me. Leave now. I abjure you and yours.” She waved her hand as if to wave them away.

“How do you know my mother? Who did she lead here? Was it her kidnappers? Did they do this? Were they looking for the stones? Did they find them?” The questions poured out of Daniel’s mouth like water from a pitcher.

“I have no children, no apprentice, no heir. Only this place! And now it’s destroyed!” With a groan, she knelt in the middle of the mess. She scooped up several of the voodoo dolls and decorated skulls and rocked them as if they were broken
children. “I can’t help you. I can’t help nobody when my heart is scattered like leaves in the wind.” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if to block out the world.

Daniel bent to pick up a ripped pouch. It had almost-letters on the leather. “Things can be fixed or replaced, but people, like my mother, can never—”

Both Kayla and Queen Marguerite shouted, “Don’t touch that!” With a sigh, the voodoo queen dropped the dolls and skulls and heaved herself to standing. “There’s too much mixed-up magic. You’ll end up cursing yourself or worse if you touch anything. Best leave it where it lies. Most likely, I’ll have to condemn the place and see it destroyed. I’m sorry, boy. Nothing anyone can do about this mess—or about your mother—now.”

“You can help!”

Queen Marguerite barked a laugh. There was no humor in it. “You don’t want my help. It ain’t worth nothing now. You don’t want broken magic. I had this place chock-full of protections, and they tore through it all. They didn’t like the answer I gave them, you see.”