The Babet & Prosper Collection I: One Less Warlock, Magrat's Dagger, A Different Undead, and Bad Juju (7 page)

Prosper glared at the box. “What if Jaleel
didn’t want the dagger to protect himself? What if he wanted to use
it as bait?”

Her mother went deathly pale. “You mean, he
suspected the dagger would call to Babet? That she’d be the Chosen
One?”

“Who better to fight him than a woman who’s
part witch, part demon?”

Babet flinched. It was hard enough to think
of herself as a succubus. She still hadn’t let the term demon enter
her mind. She pushed it away. “How could he know my father even had
a daughter?”

Hennie went very still. She straightened on
her stool. “Dalal.”

Her mother stood so quickly, it caught Babet
by surprise. “That evil, selfish…”

“Dalal’s sister died with Magrat,” Hennie
said, hurrying to explain. “She never forgave Beryl for studying
witchcraft in the first place or for joining our coven.”

“And she never forgave us when Beryl died in
the battle.” Mom let out a long sigh. “But Magrat didn’t ask any of
us to join her when she fought Jaleel. Beryl insisted, like we all
did. Dalal couldn’t talk her out of it.”

Hennie shrugged. “Dalal went sour after that,
turned to witchcraft herself, only the dark kind. She swore she’d
grow strong enough to destroy us all.” She stood, too, and started
for the stairs that led to the apartment on the second floor of the
building. “I need a glass of wine. Anyone else?”

They all raised their hands. Appropriate,
Babet thought. Mom’s classroom was in the shop next door.

“It’s more comfortable up there,” Mom said,
following her. “Better than sitting on these. Come on.”

Prosper gladly left his stool to follow her
with Babet trailing behind. She hung Morgana around her shoulders
to climb the steps.

Once they were seated around the kitchen
table, sipping wine, Babet asked. “What happened to Dalal?”

“She picked a fight with the wrong witch,
another black magic practitioner, and she got zapped, like poor
Cassandra.”

“The only good, dark witch…” Prosper
began.

“…is a dead one,” Hennie ended.

Prosper finished his glass of wine, went to
pour himself another one. Came back with the bottle to pour
everyone seconds. “So Dalal gets herself killed. You think she went
to the pits?”

“She wasn’t all that nice before she
practiced black magic,” Mom said. “I sure don’t think she went to
see Saint Peter.”

“But she couldn’t be as bad as Jaleel,” Babet
said. “She wouldn’t go to his pit.”

Prosper shrugged. “Maybe it’s like prisons up
here. News gets around. Inmates always know what’s up.”

Mom put her hand to her mouth, thinking.
“Dalal knew I was pregnant, that I had no mate, and that I’d been
close to Gazaar. She died before I had Babet.”

Prosper pushed to his feet, too restless to
sit. “That’s my worry. Jaleel knows Gazaar had a child, but that’s
all he knows. The child will have magic with you as its mother and
Gazaar as its father. So…how to find out who it is?”

Hennie finished the sequence of thoughts.
“Find the box and see who it calls.”

“We fell right into his trap.” Her mother’s
shoulders sagged. “If we had thought things through, we’d have
wondered why he sent Cassandra to dig up Magrat’s grave. He’d have
just attacked, hoping we didn’t make it to the box in time, hoping
the dagger hadn’t called its chosen yet.”

Coldness seeped into Babet’s bones, a feeling
of doom. But if Jaleel wanted her, he’d have a fight on his hands.
“So where is he? Why didn’t he show up the minute I took the
dagger?”

Prosper knew the answer to that question too.
“Because he wants your father here when he kills you.”

Babet swallowed. “What if Dad doesn’t come?
How long will Jaleel wait?”

“Jaleel will start destroying homes, people.
He knows your father will have to try to stop him, to take him
back.”

The words had no longer left her mother’s
lips than smoke swirled above a small suburb west of the city.

Hennie sighed. “We have the box. The dagger
called you. It’s started. Jaleel’s taunting your father, forcing
him to come.”

“If Babet doesn’t show up?” Prosper
asked.

“He knows she has to. She’s Magrat’s
chosen.”

No matter how they looked at it, Jaleel had
stacked the deck and outmaneuvered them. They didn’t really have a
choice. Babet, her mother, and Hennie got ready to do battle.
Prosper hit a wall with his fist. “I don’t like sitting things
out.”

“And we don’t like defending people when we
can fight.”

Mom’s words settled the matter. Prosper drove
toward the city when he left the shop. The women, with Morgana,
drove toward Jaleel.

Traffic was terrible. At the rate they were
going, the entire suburb would be ashes before they got there.
Babet kept glancing at the smoke that only grew thicker the longer
time passed. She was beginning to think the whole destruction game
would be finished and Jaleel would move on before they could find
their way out of the tangle of cars.

A siren sounded behind them, moved around
them, and forced traffic out of its way. Prosper. He gave a grim
smile as he led them out of town. Damn the man, but he’d found a
way to be part of the battle.

A hitch hiccupped in Babet’s chest. Not her
heart. Prosper was a buddy, a good lay, a friend. And more? She
pushed that thought away. Worry pulsed in her veins. How could a
Were survive against a demon? What was he thinking?

They left city limits with its smash of
people and buildings and drove past strip malls and housing
additions as the smoke kept growing. Pocket-sized yards stretched
into lawns. And then the first surburb began. Or what had been the
first suburb.

A lump in Babet’s throat threatened to lodge
there. Her stomach did a flip-flop. A queasy feeling crept up her
throat, burning with bile. Fire greeted them. Houses were charred
frames, ashes, and ruins. Blackened bodies lay on front yards,
where mortals had fled from their houses before the flames got
them. Some big. Some small. Parents and children. Tears stung
Babet’s eyes. She blinked them away. Her fingers curled around the
dagger, and magic buzzed around her.

She heard laughter and rolled down her car
window. Jaleel was throwing flames at the houses in a small cul de
sac, chuckling at the humans’ misery as they ran for their lives.
Before he could belch fire at them, a long, flaming whip flicked
around his neck, yanking him off balance.

Mom pulled her car to the side of the road,
and they all got out. “Not you,” Babet warned Morgana. “You stay in
the car.” The snake didn’t look happy, but Babet slammed the door,
locking her inside.

Prosper came to join them. They turned, as
one, to see a muscular, god-like being stride toward Jaleel. He
wore form-fitting, leather pants and nothing else. Dark hair. Dark
eyes. With energy sparking off his perfect physique. Muscles
rippled as he pulled Jaleel closer.

Jaleel threw back his head, opened his mouth,
and shot fire at him. Gazaar let it surround him, unfazed, still
reeling Jaleel to him.

Jaleel turned his face, saw Mom, Hennie, and
Babet and grinned. He pointed a finger, and energy sizzled toward
Babet.

Her father immediately stepped between Jaleel
and her. The energy hit him, and the smell of burnt flesh hung in
the air.

The bastard. Jaleel was trying to use her to
defeat her father. The demon knew Gazaar would try to defend her.
Babet squared her shoulders and felt energy rise inside her. A new
kind of energy. Not witch’s power, but magic of a different
kind.

She took off at a run. Prosper tried to stop
her, but she dodged past him. She could sense, more than hear, the
ripple of his change. A huge, brown bear charged after her. Two
cars flew into the area and screeched to a stop behind Mom’s. The
rest of the coven reached for Mom and Hennie’s hands. They needed
her to be complete, but she had other plans. No worry. A mini-van
joined the others, and Evangeline ran to complete the circle. That
disconcerted Babet for a minute, before she remembered Evangeline
was a witch now—a white witch, so she’d do.

Magic thickened the air. Spells and chants
pulsed around her. Her father’s whip snapped out and wrapped around
Jaleel’s torso, tugging tight, biting into his immortal flesh.
Witch winds put out the fires as Jaleel struggled to free
himself.

Prosper was close on her heels. Babet ran
faster, never hesitated, and threw herself against Jaleel. He and
her father towered above her, but she placed her free hand on his
thigh, keeping the dagger ready. She couldn’t stab him. Power would
rush from the wound, destroying anything in its path. As words flew
from her lips, energy drained from him, flowed through her hand
into her body. Succubus powers. Her new magic. Her power grew.

Jaleel tried to shake her off. She slashed
his flesh with the dagger, making vents. Energy flowed out of the
shallow cuts, flooding the entire area. Prosper inhaled it. So did
the coven. Jaleel kicked at her and sent her reeling.

Prosper’s paws lifted her, steadied her, and
ran with her as she returned. Babet took Jaleel’s left leg. Prosper
clawed at his right, raking the skin on that side. More power
escaped the demon. When Jaleel tried to belch fire at them, her
father yanked on the whip, keeping him off balance. Mists swirled
around them, and women’s faces mouthed chants--Nadine and her
voodoo. Babet slashed Jaleel’s torso, watched more energies leave
him, swirling toward the river to travel to Nadine’s
settlement.

Jaleel threw back his head and screamed,
tensed his muscles, and jerked. The whip fell, leaving deep gashes
on his waist. Jaleel clawed at the air. The coven’s magic tore. A
long, jagged gash ripped, letting chants and spells spill away. His
face contorted in fury, and Jaleel lunged at Gazaar. Her father
knocked him aside. He gathered his whip to strike again, but Jaleel
dissolved into energy, speeding away.

Babet stomped her foot as he escaped. The
demon stopped, turned, and blasted energy toward her. She wouldn’t
have moved in time, but a large, furry body knocked her out of the
way. She smelled singed fur as a heavy weight fell on top of
her.

Panic flooded her. “Prosper?” She wriggled
beneath him. Was he all right? Had Jaleel hit him? Was he
unconscious? Dead?

A tongue licked her face. A deep voice
chuckled. “You can’t always be on top.”

“Ugggh!” She pushed on his chest, and he
slowly rolled off her. Partially shifted, he offered her a hand to
help her up, but she refused it, clumsily getting to her own
feet.

He laughed. “Thanks for breaking my
fall.”

“Thanks for saving my ass.”

His gaze shifted, and she felt herself blush.
“The world would be less without a fanny like that.”

Someone cleared his throat. They both looked
up to see Gazaar studying them.

Babet squirmed. Her father wasn’t beaming a
welcome. His dark brows furrowed into a scowl. “Your mother said
that you have no training. You took a risk using succubus magic
when you don’t understand it.”

He kept in touch with her mother? And her
mother never mentioned it? Babet’s chin rose. She’d just tried to
save lives, and all he could do was criticize her?

“Then why didn’t you teach her?” Everyone
turned to stare at Evangeline. Her clipped words caught all of them
off guard. The young voodoo/witch held her arms over her chest,
clearly upset. Her expression shifted from anger to distress and
back again. She looked like she was about to cry.

“Are you all right?” Babet asked.

“No! How could I be?” Evangeline gulped and
hugged herself more tightly. “People died, and it’s all my fault.
Because I’m so stupid.”

“Not stupid.” Babet rushed to defend her.
“Just naïve. Because you didn’t ask for any of this. You’d rather
garden. You were trying to learn. It backfired, that’s all.”

“And people died.” Evangeline turned in a
slow circle, looking at the charred bodies lying on burned
lawns.

Gazaar tried to comfort her. “Jaleel took
advantage of your inexperience. He’s been waiting to return here
since he learned I have a daughter.”

Evangeline’s hands went to her hips. “A
daughter you weren’t nice to! I tried to impress my father too, and
all he did was drain me. You’re not much better.”

Gazaar glared at her. “And you’re….?”

“Emile and Nadine’s daughter.” When her
mother spoke, Gazaar looked in her direction. His expression turned
tender, almost hungry.

“I’ve missed you, Rowan. I’ve endangered you
and our daughter. Jaleel got past me. I don’t know how. I’m
sorry.”

Her mom went to him, leaned against him.
“He’s learned something new. He’s never been able to shift forms
before. We’ll have to trap him with magic before we can defeat
him.”

“I didn’t want you involved in another demon
battle.”

“And I didn’t like seeing you hurt.” She put
a hand to the burn on his abdomen where Jaleel’s energy bore into
his flesh.

Gazaar shrugged it away. “We have to find him
before he regains his strength. I can deal with him as a demon. It
will take longer in his other form. The less time he’s here, the
better.”

“Then quit picking on Babet and her friend,
Evangeline. You just met them, and without their magics, things
would be worse.”

Gazaar’s lips pressed together in a thin
line. “Babet could have been killed.”

“If she hadn’t drained Jaleel, she would have
been. He came here to look for her.”

The other witches in the coven came
forward.

Hennie held out a hand to greet him.
“Welcome, Gazaar.”

His gaze swept the cul de sac as people
cowered away from them. Every fire was extinguished. “Your witch
power saved these mortals. Your magic is still strong.”

“We’re honored to work with you.” Hennie
bowed her head in respect, and the other witches followed.