Shadows (Bayou Magic 1)

“When I was younger, I tried to hide it from friends at school or boys I liked. I mean, who wants a creepy Debbie Downer around all the time, right? I know I don’t. But, sooner or later, we’d be somewhere, and it would come out.”

“Keep going,” Cash says. When Asher frowns at him, he says, “This could lead to a light bulb moment.”

Asher nods. “True. Keep going.”

“Well, like one time in high school, I went to the movies with this guy I liked. Jeff Anderson. He was nice, kind of geeky. Anyway, he asked me out, and I said yes. We get to the theater, and it’s an old one. There were so many shadows wandering around, it scared the hell out of me, and it takes a lot to do that.

“But I was young, and I really liked Jeff, so I just took a deep breath and sucked it up. We got our popcorn and Cokes, and when we walked into the auditorium, Jeff led me to seats in the middle of the place. But there were shadows already sitting there.”

“What did you do?” Asher asks.

“I said, ‘let’s sit somewhere else.’ At first, Jeff was fine with it, but everywhere he went, there was a shadow sitting in the seat. Maybe it was the same one dicking with me. I don’t know. That’s happened before.

“So, finally, I said, ‘this place is too haunted for me.’ He laughed, but when he looked at my face and saw that I wasn’t kidding, he said some hurtful things, and we left. He refused to take me home. Said he didn’t want a devil worshiper in his car. I had to walk home.”

“All the way to that house in the bayou?” Cash asks.

“Yeah. It was horrible. The bayou is horribly haunted. I got home well after midnight, and my sisters were worried sick.”

“What about your mom?” Asher asks.

“She slapped me across the face when I walked through the door.”

“She’s a lovely woman,” Cash assures Asher. “So far, what I’ve learned from this is: I need to kick Jeff Anderson’s ass, and your mom is a grade-A bitch.”

“I won’t disagree.” I shrug a shoulder. “I know it’s not Jeff doing this. The people who leave my life because of my abilities do so because it scares them. I don’t have to be a shrink to know that. It’s never made someone so angry that they wanted to kill me or anyone who looks like me. That would make them—”

“Psychotic,” Cash finishes for me. “And, yes, it could happen. But I’m inclined to agree that it’s unlikely. I’m also sorry that you had to deal with so many jerks.”

“Everyone does.”

“Are there any more shadows lurking around here?” Asher asks.

“Dozens,” I confirm. “But those are the only two in this room. There’s one that stands behind the receptionist. It looks over her shoulder as if its checking her work.”

“My office?” Asher asks.

“None in there.”

There is one in there, but there’s no need to scare him.

“Well, thank Christ for that. And I’m at a loss for what to do now. The bastard failed tonight.”

“That’s going to make him angry,” Cash says. “He’ll strike again. If he hasn’t already. And it’ll escalate. He’ll increase the speed in which he kills them.”

“He’s going pretty fast already,” I say. “When I was there tonight, two of the girls were gone, and he had two more in their place.”

“Wait, you were there tonight?” Cash asks.

“Yes. One of the dead girls alerted me to wake up.”

“Were you able to ask questions? Walk through the house?” Asher asks.

“I was interrupted before I could walk through the door, but I was able to talk to the other girl again. The one who told me the killer calls them all by my name.”

“What else did she say?”

“That she fights back, and she doesn’t let him see that she’s afraid of him. She has older brothers. That’s really it.”

“You have to do it again,” Asher says. “Right now.”

“I’m not able to make myself do it,” I remind him. “I don’t know what triggers it, aside from the girls being desperate for me to find their bodies. But Millie has been asking around and poring through the book. I’ll go to her in a few hours and see if she’s made any headway.”

“I want to catch this son of a bitch before he kills anyone else,” Asher says. “He’s going down.”Chapter FourteenBrielle“I’m dead on my feet.”

“That’s not funny,” Millie says, frowning at me from behind the counter. We’re at Witches Brew, and she’s filling an order while I read through our grandmother’s book.

Meme didn’t have the best penmanship.

Some of it is hard to read. Either that or it’s in another language, which is entirely possible.

“I want to add the love potion,” Millie’s male customer says, winking at her. “Let’s roll the dice and see if it works.”