The Babet & Prosper Collection I: One Less Warlock, Magrat's Dagger, A Different Undead, and Bad Juju (18 page)

“He’s not a pretty sight.” Babet stopped at
her home to retrieve Morgana before they followed the river to the
small, voodoo town.

Morgana wrapped herself around Babet’s
shoulders when they left the car and started up the walk to
Nadine’s house. Rosita followed a few steps behind. When Nadine
stepped onto the porch—tall, slender, and intimidating with her
dark, stark beauty, Rosita took a quick breath. Too late now.

Nadine raised a dark brow when she saw the
young Latino. “You must be Rosita.”

The girl cringed. Babet didn’t blame her. “I
want to see Marcel.”

“He’s staying in Ines’ house. I’ll show you.”
Nadine started down the stairs.

Babet marveled again at the woman's marble
white skin. The only sign that she lived in a hot, steamy climate
were the freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks. They
seemed incongruous. But then, nothing about Nadine fit a
stereotype.

Babet followed them to a peach-colored house
with purple trim. The colors should have looked horrible together.
They didn’t.

Ines opened the door before they knocked and
looked Rosita up and down. “You must be his new girlfriend.”

Rosita raised her chin. “I’m his last
girlfriend. There won’t be any women after me.”

Ines laughed. “Then come in.”

Rosita started up the steps, but stopped on
the second one when she saw Marcel, hanging back from the doorway.
Her hand went to her throat, and she swallowed hard. “What has he
done to you?"

Marcel stalked onto the porch. "A curse."

A string of words flew from the girl's lips,
and Babet was glad she didn't know Spanish. Rosita ended by turning
to the others. "It’s not fair. We have to fix him.”

Nadine looked at the women from the
settlement who were crowding onto Ines’ front yard. “Yes, we do.
I’m sorry about this, Rosita.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That I have to curse you.”

Rosita’s warm, caramel-colored complexion
blanched to pale. “Me? Why? I tried to help Marcel.”

An expensive, black sedan sped down the
street and screeched to a stop at the curb. Girma stepped out from
behind the wheel to face the women. “You won’t harm my
granddaughter.”

“Really? Watch us.” Nadine raised her hand
and spirits swarmed in and out, weaving between her fingers.
“Evangeline.”

Babet’s eyes went wide when Evangeline
stepped from the house with a voodoo doll in her fist. She raised
one of its arms, and Rosita’s arm jerked skyward.

“You’ll stop right there.” Girma reached
inside his pants pocket to hold a powder in his hands.

The women of the settlement circled him.

Nadine looked directly at Babet. Babet joined
the circle and raised her palms toward the witch doctor. “I won’t
let you harm my friends,” she warned.

Evangeline raised the other arm, and Rosita
squealed with fear when her other hand shot into the air. She
looked at her grandfather. “Help me!” she begged.

Girma hesitated. He locked gazes with Nadine.
“What do you want?”

“Remove Marcel’s curse, and I don’t curse
Rosita.”

Rosita’s jaw dropped. “I haven’t done
anything!”

Nadine shrugged, unimpressed. “Neither did
Marcel.”

Delphine stepped out of the house and
unhurriedly walked toward them. She looked Girma up and down. She,
too, reached into a pocket and removed a talisman. “Hello, Girma.
It's been a long time. I’ve done as much magic as you have, but
I’ve never abused mine. Marcel's my blood. Remove his curse, or
you’ll regret it.”

Girma cocked his head to one side, studying
her. “What are you playing at? Why the gray hair and wrinkles?”

Delphine waved his comments aside. “I grew
tired of men. None look at me now.”

“I’m looking. You were my first love. Before
Doli.”

Delphine narrowed her eyes, studying him. “We
were young then.”

“Time matters little to us.” He still stared.
“You chose a mortal. I met Doli.”

“I’ve chosen my way. So have you. Remove the
curse from my Marcel.”

He tossed out a challenge. “You were
frightened of me then. You’re powerful now. Promise to spend a week
with me, and I’ll remove the curse.”

There was a collective gasp as women’s jaws
dropped.

Delphine’s hands went to her hips. “What
makes you think I’ll like you more now than I did back then?”

“You’ve grown into the woman I knew you’d be.
You’re even more fascinating. So am I.”

Babet looked from Delphine to Girma and back
again. She held her hands steady, ready to blast magic, but waited
to see what happened.

Delphine smiled, and the smile smoothed out
the wrinkles on her face, made the gray hairs turn black. Babet
blinked, and a beautiful woman stood before her. Delphine shrugged.
“What’s one week in the scheme of things?”

A low chuckle escaped Girma. “And one week
can easily become two.”

“Uncurse Marcel.”

Girma shifted his hands back and forth as
words spilled from his lips. A few minutes passed and Marcel
staggered out the front door. No more green. No more leaves or
plant life. Rosita ran to him and threw her arms around his
neck.

Girma shrugged. “Youth. We made mistakes at
that age.”

Delphine walked to weave her arm through his.
“Still do. You have a week. Make me happy.”

He led her to his car, helped her onto the
passenger seat, and pulled away.

Babet swallowed hard and looked at Nadine.
The voodoo priestess looked as stunned as she felt.

Dashika threw back her head and laughed.
“Lord Almighty, if that isn’t romantic, I don’t know what is.”

The other women relaxed, too, and broke into
talk.

Babet stared at Nadine. “Just so you know, I
wouldn’t have let you curse Rosita, not when I brought her
here.”

Nadine gave a knowing smile. “I knew I
wouldn’t have to. So did Evangeline.”

Babet heaved a big sigh. Energy drained from
her. It was a bluff, but they sure were convincing. She shook her
head. “I’m tired. I’m going home. I’m sitting on my back patio and
drinking wine.”

Nadine laughed. “Be good to yourself, friend.
And thank you.”

On the drive back to the city, Babet thought
about the word friend. She never, in her wildest thoughts, expected
to become close to voodoo women. She didn’t expect to deal with
Juju. And she certainly didn’t expect to miss Prosper.

Her house felt lonely that night. She carried
her wine out to the courtyard, listened to the tinkling music of
the fountain, and glared at the sunset. Her stomach rumbled. She
hadn’t fixed supper. Had no appetite. Morgana was restless, too,
until her head rose and bobbed up and down.

“Whatever you want, the answer is no,” Babet
grumped.

The back gate opened. Prosper walked toward
her, a pizza box in his hands. “I come bearing super supreme.”

Babet glanced inside at the clock on the
kitchen wall. A little after ten. “I thought you couldn’t make it
tonight.”

He shrugged. “I went home, couldn’t relax,
and decided I missed you.”

Her heart did the happy, little hitch thing
again. She shrugged. “It’s silly to pay for an apartment when
you’re hardly ever there. Maybe it’s time you move in.”

His lips quirked at the corners as he sank
onto the lawn chair next to hers. “Do I get a drawer?”

“You even get one side of the closet.”

He held the pizza box between them, offering
to share. “I’m sort of big, but I don’t take up too much
space.”

She bit into her first slice. “If you move
in, everything’s fifty/fifty. The good and the bad.”

“Does this mean we’re a team?”

She went inside and brought out two beers.
“More like partners.”

He gave a happy sigh. “I can live with
that.”

So could she. For a long time.

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