Shadows (Bayou Magic 1)

I glance over to see Cash raise one dark eyebrow. His dimple winks at me as he crosses his arms over his impressive chest and listens intently.

He would be less distracting if he were in the back of the group.

“So, while harmless, the boys are mischievous. They like to turn the channels on the TV.”

“We’re staying there.” A woman looks up at her husband. “I’ll never sleep tonight.”

I laugh and, just as I turn to lead the group to the next point of interest, I falter and stop in my tracks.

A new shadow.

A new shadow.

About my height, standing on the sidewalk. I can never make out faces, but I can tell this one is turned toward me. It’s a feminine spirit.

I blink quickly and try to recover so I don’t alert my group to anything amiss.

A new shadow.

It’s rare, even in the Quarter.

But I clear my throat and walk past the shadow to our next stop.“That was amazing.” A college-age girl smiles broadly and bounces on the balls of her feet. The tour ended fifteen minutes ago, but I always stay after to answer questions. “I’m Tammy. I just loved all of the stories. It’s so interesting.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I was wondering about that Laurie house?”

“The LaLaurie?”

“Yeah. That one. Where can I learn more about her? I mean, I know it sounds sick, but I’m fascinated by that stuff.”

“Torture?”

She blushes. “History stuff. I guess it does sound awful, doesn’t it?”

“There are lots of articles about Delphine online. Just Google the name, and you’ll have more information than you can read. But I’ll warn you, it’s graphic.”

“Thanks.” She smiles at me, then hurries to catch up with her friend.

“People are morbidly curious,” Cash says, joining me. He hung back, waiting for everyone else to ask their questions. Now, it’s just the two of us.

“Always.” I shudder. I know exactly what was done to those slaves.

Sometimes, the shadows talk.

“Did you have more questions, Cash?”

“One.” I start to walk down the sidewalk, and he joins me. I expect him to ask about places that I didn’t cover in my tour. Or maybe about the cemeteries.

Everyone always wants to know about those.

But I can’t do tours there. It’s too much.

Although I do have companies I can refer him to.

“What did you see?”

I stop and frown up at him. Cash is tall. Way taller than my five-foot-six height.

“Excuse me?”

“After you told the story about the kids dying in the fire, which is creepy as hell by the way, you turned, and then you stopped and went white as a sheet. You looked like you saw a ghost.”

Well, I did see a ghost, Cash.

But I can’t say that.

“It was great having you on the tour this evening.” I smile at him and pat him on the arm. “Have a fantastic vacation. Be careful.”

And with that, I hurry away, headed to the one place in the city that I’m absolutely safe.“Help me put these chairs up, will you?”

Millie flutters around her little café, stacking chairs on tables so her night crew can come in and mop the floors.

Witches Brew will be three years old this spring, and so far, it’s been a success for my younger sister. And it should be. This café is perfect for the French Quarter, from its fun name to the quirky décor and delicious menu.

Coffee served in a cauldron? Sure thing.

Want a love potion? You can order one up.

She’ll also read your tarot cards if you ask nicely.

I know that tourists come in here and think it’s just a fun, silly café.

But it’s as real as it gets.

Millie is a gifted witch. A crazy, amazing psychic. And those love potions? Well, they’re real.

She’s a hedgewitch.

Or, in layman’s terms, a kitchen witch.

And she’s as scatterbrained and fun as she is a little scary.

I couldn’t love her more.

“Whatcha doin’?” she asks as we place the chairs on the little, round tables.

“Just finished a tour. Figured I’d come in and see how business was today.”

“Off the hook,” she says and wipes the sweat off her brow with a towel. “And we’re not even in the full swing of tourist season yet.”

“Same.” I smile at her. We’re as different as can be. I’m dark-haired with blue eyes, and Millie is blond, tall, and has chocolate-brown eyes.

She’s stunning.

“How many men did you have to chase out of here today?”

“Only one,” she says, grinning. “If they’d stop ordering the love potion, I wouldn’t have to chase them out at all.”

“You know, you don’t have to actually give them the potion every time. They’d never know the difference.”

“I charge an extra three dollars for that brew,” she says, raising her chin in the air. “And I would know the difference. I just need to remember to tell them not to drink it until they’re outside.”

I laugh and walk behind the counter that’s lined with stools to help her fill the napkin dispensers.