Hail to the Queen (Witch For Hire 2)

“No, but there are times when I understand that we are two different species. And if I push myself to become more like him or the bond changes me, then who am I? What am I?” I’m speaking more to myself, but it feels good to purge.

“Have you talked to him about this, Lou?”

“With all my spare time? No.”

“You can’t keep this bottled up.”

“No, I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.”

“I don’t prescribe to that malarkey. You deserve to be happy.”

“I am. It’s just …” My lower lip trembles. “When I squint, I’m not sure how much I like the picture I’m painted in.”

Reaching across the console, she grabs my hand. “I know you can’t get perspective because you’re in the midst, so let me remind you. You are Louella Heloise Esçhete. My bad ass, loyal, talented, beautiful, and let’s not leave out powerful, best friend. If you weren’t in this one-hundred percent, you wouldn’t have agreed to acknowledge the bond. You left for years, Lou. So, you can say there were other options. You explored them. They didn’t fulfill you. You chose him. That’s important to remember.”

Her words make me smile. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Damn straight. I remember it clearly because it made the elders catch the vapors, your Mémé cackle, and single girls everywhere cry.”

“You are so full of it.” I laugh.

“Hey. I’m sure that is a legitimate story.”

The sour mood lifted, we turn on the 90s station and sing our hearts out the rest of the way.

***

We lapse into silence as she weaves her way through the city traffic and manages to snag a decent parking space.

Out on the sidewalk, my eyes drink in the city. The old buildings possess a rugged charm, and the clusters of people are rich and diverse. From smartly dressed businessmen and women, to eccentrically clothed artists selling paper and performers, the streets are teeming with life. Bright splashes of purple, gold, and green catch my eyes as the city displays its colors proudly. Even the tourists have a charm of their own with their wide-eyed wonder and cameras at the ready. We travel alongside them, catching their contagious enthusiasm, as we view the city with fresh eyes again. I smell Café Du Monde long before I see it. We join the lengthy line of people waiting for their fix and grab a table out front. The classic green umbrella makes me smile and blocks the wicked sun from my face.

“Seeing as how we have the rest of the day to ourselves, are you up for helping me with a little project?”

“Sure. What do you have in mind?” Sacha asks as they deliver our pile of beignets.

“I’m rea

dy for a new hair color. I need to shake things up.” And be in control of something for once.

“What color are you thinking?”

“Pink. I figure it’s about time I mark something off my bucket list and freak out all the uptight elders planning my coronations.”

She barks a laugh. “Well, there’s one way to be passive aggressive.”

“To change and taking back control.” I raise my mug, and she clinks glasses with me.

They city is always lively, but it comes into its own at night. We wander the streets, hunting up treasures as the day slips its skin and night arrives in all its majestic glory. We stop to dance to a jazz band playing in the street. I’m lighter than I’ve been in months. We laugh as we link arms and continue our way back toward the car.

“Do you think you had enough oysters back there? We can always pick up a third order to go.”

“You helped me with those.”

“Just a little bit.” She holds up her thumb and index finger. We are halfway through Jackson square when I feel it. The knowing tug of power.

“Do you?”

“Yeah?” I answer, scanning the area.