War-N-Wit, Inc. – Resurrection (6 page)

 
 
 

Chapter Ten

 

I stormed out the
front door, slightly ahead of Chad,
and paused at the top of the walk. He threw his arms around me from behind and
kissed the top of my head.

“That—was—
awesome
!”

I turned in his arms
and he kissed my lips. “Absolutely
awesome
!”
he said again.

“Can we get out of
here, please?”

“Yes, ma’am,
absolute.” He opened the door of the SUV and held out his hand, a courtly
gentleman helping his lady into a carriage. I laughed. He liked to open the car
door for me and help me in, but I frequently forgot and did it before he had
the chance.

He came around and
got in. As we pulled back into the street, a black streak shot out from under
the bushes in Resurrection Headquarters’ yard and through the bars of the
wrought iron fence into the next yard.

“There’s that black
cat again,” I said.

“Honey, he’s not
your black cat. I promise.”

“Our black cat.”

“Nope. Not even.
He’s yours. He’s decided. You really oughta name him.”

“Micah,” I said, not
even thinking about it.

“Okay, that was
quick. Why?”

“Don’t know. You
don’t like it?”

“Your cat, baby
girl. His name’s whatever you want it to be. I was just curious, you came out
with it so fast. So. ‘Fess up. You can be honest. You really don’t like
Hedgepath, do you?”

“Oh, I love him to
death, you couldn’t tell?”

“Not so’s you’d
notice, no.”

I looked over at my
husband’s profile as he drove. There was a secret smugness in the lift of one
corner of his mouth.

“You asshole!”

“Excuse me?”

“You knew the whole
time. Didn’t you?”

“Oh, hell, no, I
didn’t
know
. Remember, just because I
knew the stories of the Tears of Isis didn’t mean I believed them. I didn’t
disbelieve them, I was just—reserving judgment. But for him to latch onto me
like that, considering the connection between us, it occurred to me he might
actually be feeling your power, not mine. And then the timeframe, when he said his
power started fading in October and was gone by the end of December. I believe
it was actually Christmas Day you had your own private epiphany?”

Yes, it had been.
Last Christmas Day had given me a gift I’d never thought any mortal could
possess. The day I’d known with
absolute certainty that I was a witch.

“Don’t know why that’d make you suspect it was me, though.”

“I didn’t right off. Not until we were back inside and you
picked up the picture and looked at it. You said it had hints of color and I
figured then—because to me it was clear as glass. Nothing special.”

“And tonight when you saw the real thing?”

“More impressive, I’ll admit. But I doubt I see it in its
full glory like you do. To me, it just looks like a chandelier drop or
something similar. I bet to you, it’s brighter than a diamond.”

“And you’d be right,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like
it. And that pig shouldn’t have the right to touch it!”

“Nope. So the question is—what’re we gonna do about it?”

“And the answer is?”

“Time to check in with G.”

“Who is G, anyway? Sounds like a James Bond character.”

Chad
laughed. “His name’s Gabriel. Gabriel Smith. But the G’s for Guardian.”

“As in the Archangel?”

“Yeah, as in the Archangel.”

I’d never thought I’d say such a thing in anything but jest,
but all things considered, I wasn’t completely joking when I asked, “
Not
really the Archangel, though.
Right?”

“Lots of guys named Gabriel. But in all honesty, baby
girl—sometimes I’m not real sure. And there’s sure as hell a lot of guys named
Smith, if you know what I mean.”

“Welcome,” I said. “To the world of magic.”

 

* * *

 

We placed a call to G and left a message. Then we checked
into the hotel on

Bay Street
where Chad
had made reservations. I’d never spent any time in Savannah,
but the Historic District, by all reports, rocked and Chad had been
emphatic about staying there for the convenience of walking distance. And even
in February, the temperature was temperate. It was forty-five degrees, very
pleasant walking weather. Jeans, sweater, jacket, walking boots, and out the
door we went.

“Okay, baby girl. First things first. Food. Right up here.
Steaks to die for.”

Maybe so, but a quick glance at the menu told me the ribs
weren’t slouches, either. “I don’t know if I want ribs or steaks.”

“There’s always tomorrow night, baby girl. You don’t see
another restaurant rings your bell, we’ll come back here. But Savannah’s not short on restaurants.”

We both ordered steaks and munched on the fresh bread and
ate our salads. And yes, the steaks melted in your mouth. The only problem was,
I kept feeling a tingle. The kind you feel when there’s a target painted on
your back. A target someone’s shooting daggers at. I glanced around, hampered
by the high backs of the booths. The tables in view were occupied by older
couples with younger couples. Probably parents and kids. Several held just younger
couples. Others were young parents, out with the kids. A few were students.
Savannah had a big college population since it had a very prominent
art-technology college. Everybody seemed upwardly mobile or already
well-established in life. A general cross-section of life in a good restaurant
with mostly upper middle class patrons. I couldn’t peg any source for the
daggers.

“I hope G doesn’t call us back right now. Be sorta hard to
talk.”

“Sure would. I turned the phone off. I’m having a night out
on the town with my wife. But don’t worry, he won’t call till we’re back in the
room.”

“You didn’t give him a time.”

“Didn’t need to.”

Our waitress came back to check on us. Diana, according to her
name tag. Lovely girl, excellent at her job. I was pretty sure she was a
student at that art-techno college. She seemed a bit more flustered with this
table check than she had initially.

“Dessert?” she asked.

“Oh, I couldn’t!” I declined.

“No, me either, thank you, Diana.” It didn’t surprise me
he’d noted her name. Chad
noticed everything. “Gotta save room for the candy shops.”

“Headed down to

River
Street
, huh?”

“Of course. Those hot pralines calling.”

“Sweet Toots has homemade ice-cream in the back, too.”

“We’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

We crossed

Bay
Street
and Chad headed to a set of steep stone
steps. Savannah
was a port city. Naturally, its first two streets had paralleled the shoreline.
River Street itself was a product of the seafaring history. The incoming ships
coming into the river from the deep channel corridor out of the Atlantic needed
ballast in their cargo holds to sail to Savannah.
That ballast usually consisted of New England
rock. And that rock had to be removed from the cargo holds before the ships
were re-loaded with the cotton they’d come to fetch in the first place. So what
to do with the New England rock? Build Savannah streets of
course. Like
River Street
.
Laid with rock from far away places. Lined with walls of the same material. Now
it was traversed by cars and tour buses rather than horses and wagons. And the
rails on which the cotton carts had run back and forth from the warehouses to
the ships’ bellies were still embedded in the street.

River Street was a low-lying street. So naturally part of
that rock was used to build walls up against the land, a bulwark against the Savannah River. And atop that wall was born Bay Street,
connected within every block to

River
Street
by a series of steep, off-kilter steps.

How far off-kilter wasn’t readily apparent until you were
actually going down them. Each step was much higher than normal steps, and I
made use of the railings running with them. Otherwise, I’da busted my ass.

Lights and noise spilled up into the hollows of the stair alcove.

“Here it is,” Chad said. “Georgia’s

Bourbon Street
.”

Having led the sheltered life Chad had so rightly observed I’d
led, I’d never been on

Bourbon
Street
either, but the very words conveyed exactly
the proper atmosphere. The sidewalks were so crowded the pedestrians spilled
out into the cobbled street. And not a horn honked when they did. Cars moved
slow on
River Street
.
They were intruders, allowed only on sufferance. This was a street for people
and everybody knew it.

We’d come down the stairs on the upper end of

River Street
. I
looked down the sidewalk. And entered another world of sights and sounds and
noises. Stores and shops ran along one side, occasionally cut by one of the
alleys holding another set of connecting stairs to
Bay Street
. The other side of the street
fronted the river and proliferated with sitting areas and benches and memorials
for folks to sit by the water and view the docked ships. One of the riverboat
tours passed by as I watched, and the shuttle boat from one of the hotels across
the bay unloaded its bevy of folks to walk along River Street.

Every other shop seemed to be a restaurant or a bar. Music
blared out the open doors—standing room only inside. We moved down the
sidewalk, holding hands. I was a newlywed, of course we held hands, but my grip
was tighter than usual. I wasn’t about to lose him in this crowd. Besides, I
could still feel an occasional dagger hitting that target on my back.

One bar had a country rock band. A few shops down, another
had blues. Further down, another featured karaoke. Between the bars stood
clothing shops, souvenir shops, jewelry shops. And then, oh, wonder of wonders!
The first of the many candy shops. Standing in front of the doors, you could
smell the sugar. You could
taste
the
sugar. The taste actually floated on the air. It was flavored with caramel and
vanilla and the scent of hot, roasting nuts, mingled with honey and maple.
Nobody could resist going in.

Conveyor belts and mechanical pulleys pulled and cut and
wrapped the current batch of taffy, dumping the different flavors directly into
each respective basket. There were lollipops and bubble gum and caramel apples
and candy apples. Sample plates of pralines just out of the oven, cut into
small pieces, sat out for the taking. I wasn’t shy. I took one. Then I took
another.
Oh. My. Lord.
It melted in
your mouth. I’d never tasted anything like it. I was the proverbial kid in a
candy shop.

We bought two pounds of hot pralines and moved back into the
flowing crowds, down to a little jewelry shop displaying imported earrings.
Okay, so they were the cheap kind. But they were gorgeous. Long, intricate
swirls of filigree, dangling curlicues and patterns woven within the delicate
strands of silver, stamped into the gold and bronze colored metals. I never actually
wore this type of earring much. Suitable Ariel wore suitable jewelry. Tasteful
hoops and studs, mid-size squares and buttons. These earrings? Not so much.
Exotic. Suitable for clubbing. Like I’d ever clubbed. I bought three pairs. And
I was gonna wear ‘em whenever the fancy took me. Like every day, even.

Back on the sidewalk, street musicians started up two stores
down, Motown style. The crowd gathered quickly, street dancing under the moon.
Another dagger hit my back. I glanced around again. Out in the street, walking
with a crowd that had shifted off the sidewalk, I saw our little waitress,
Diana. Ah. That explained the extra tension I’d felt at her last check. She was
ready to end her shift. Then I gasped, losing my balance, and grabbed Chad harder. A
black cat shot out from under my feet, across the street, and over to one of
the riverfront parks.

“Damn!” I exclaimed, regaining my balance. “Did you see
that?”

“Yep. Black cats are after you tonight, baby girl. And no,
it’s not yours—Micah, you said? And no, it’s not the same one we saw on

Jones Street
,
either.”

“I know. But still—coincidence much?”

“Witch much?” he retorted. “And now Seer of the Tear of
Isis, too?”

‘Don’t remind me. Let’s go get some of that homemade ice
cream at Sweet Toots and sit by the river.”

We got our ice cream cones and crossed the street to find a
bench. We watched moonbeams dance on the waves and ripples of the river. I
sighed and leaned against him. His arms tightened.

“You do know somebody’s been watching us? Besides black
cats, I mean,” he whispered in my ear.

“Oh, yeah,” I confirmed. “Since the restaurant. Shoulda
known you’d know, too.”

“Can’t catch the same face anywhere, though. Passed some of
the same faces a couple of times in the shops, but that wasn’t it. Not the same
twinge.”

“I saw our little waitress right when that cat tripped me
up. Out in the street crowd. But that’s nothing strange, I’m sure a lot of the
college kids work in the restaurants and I’m sure when they get off work, they
hit

River Street
.”

“Did you? I missed that, too busy making sure you didn’t
fall. But no, that’s nothing strange. Hell, a lot of them live in the
apartments over the stores down here.”

“That’d be some college experience. Wonder how they manage
to pass the first course.”

“Well, at least they have a hell of a good time.”

“True. I’m gettin’ sorta tired.”

“Then let’s stop in at one of the places that sell the tour
bus tickets so we’ll have them in the morning. Then we’ll find the nearest
steps and go back to the hotel. G oughta be checking in pretty soon, too.”