Ghosted, p.6
Ghosted, page 6
part #4 of Girl's Guide to Voodoo Bounty Hunting Series
“Maybe you should give Madame Valencia a call,” he said.
Aunt Emerald made a sour face. “I have not spoken to that woman in more than twenty years. Two-timing hussy.”
“She spoke to you,” her dad pointed out. “On the television. That could have been a plea for help.”
Nessa counted on her fingers, holding them up with a flourish. “Four. Four bodies in a week and those are just the ones we know about. Madame Valencia said three-times-three. Nine souls. Who suddenly needs that many? They’re either serial killer crazy or in a big hurry to ramp up their power.”
“The ghosts are restless,” Emerald declared.
Nessa looked at her aunt waiting for clarification. When nothing came, she prompted, “What does that mean exactly?”
Shrugging, her aunt got up off the couch, smoothing her clothes and putting her hair back up in a simple French Twist. “Lots of unease in the spirit realm. I hear murmurings. Probably the Soul Eater upsetting the balance. The spirits he leaves behind are trapped in a way others are not. There is no way for them to pass on to the next stage of their afterlife. They can be…” she paused, “disruptive.”
“Disruptive how?”
“Screaming, crying, blundering into the other spirits. You know.”
Nessa did not know, nor did she want to.
“I have a client,” Emerald said putting a stop to Nessa’s questions by walking out of the living room.
Nessa was surprised. After two glasses of wine? That was not normal for her aunt. She took her readings seriously.
“This late? Do you need me?”
In exchange for room and board she helped her aunt with seances. Using her Elemental powers, Nessa summoned warm or cold breezes, mist, clouds, whatever her aunt asked for. This wasn’t to cheat the clients. Emerald Scott was a psychopomp of real skill. She could talk to ghosts and they, according to her, would not shut up once she summoned them. The special effects were to make the clients feel more in touch with the spirit world.
Emerald shook her head, “No, just a Tarot reading. Margareta can only come in after she finishes her shift at the drugstore. Anyway, Tarot benefits from a bit of relaxation on my part.”
“Here,” Nessa held out her hand. “Give me your glass. I’ll wash it.”
Nessa took the glass into the kitchen with Pim pacing behind her.
Her dad followed. Clearing his throat he said hesitantly, “Hon, can I talk to you?”
“No,” said Nessa gruffly.
“Baby,” he said in a cajoling voice.
“What?” she turned on him, the heat rising in her cheeks. “What could we possibly have to talk about? You left me as collateral for Barracuda Bail Bonds like a piece of Medieval chattel. Here,” she gestured roughly, lowering her voice to sound like a man, “take my useless daughter in place of payment for my debt.”
His face paled. “No, Nessa, that’s not what it was like.”
“Wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?” she shouted, slamming her hands on the countertop.
“No. It wasn’t.”
“And now I find out you have the Scott’s ghostly abilities? What the hell dad. We both know the only reason you’re here is to hide from Belencourt after one of your schemes went bad.”
“There were circumstances…” he said, trailing off.
She faced him, her eyes stinging, “Dumping me with Aunt Emerald I can understand. You’re sick of Frank and my stupid curse holding you back from your best criminal life. I get it. I’m sick of mom’s curse, too. But making me an indentured servant? That was cruel.”
He closed the distance between them, reaching for her. “Honey, let me explain.”
Pim ran between them hissing, his back arched, his tail sticking straight up.
Nessa’s dad paused understanding Pim was a few beats away from taking his anger to the next level. He was channeling Nessa’s emotions as any Familiar would. Only most Familiars couldn’t transform into seventy pounds of spitting, biting werecat.
Nessa turned and ran from the kitchen. With a final angry yowl at her dad, Pim followed.
Upstairs in her own apartment, door locked and bolted, she sat on the couch and cried tears she didn’t even know needed to fall.
“I know I’m a burden, Pim,” she said shakily to him as he rubbed against her. “Knowing and having it thrown in my face are two different things. I’m trying to be a grown-up. I really am. Look after myself and all that, you know? But it still hurts.”
Pim nodded. She’d left his Speak and Spell on the couch.
He looked behind her, pressing a paw into her thigh to let her know they were no longer alone.
“Why are you crying?” Fiona said. She was wearing a diaphanous silk kimono patterned in chrysanthemums. Her hair was tied up in a silk bonnet. She must have been putting on her makeup.
Nessa hadn’t heard her come in from her side of the apartment. The rich witch’s Audi was in the driveway so she shouldn’t have been surprised.
Nessa wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her hoodie. “I’m not crying.”
Fiona gave an unladylike snort. “Yes, you are. Is your dad being a dick?”
Nessa swiveled around as Pim hopped up to balance on the back of the sofa.
“You know about him?”
Fiona rolled her beautifully lined, highlighted, and false eyelash enhanced eyes. “Of course. You do realize I go to your aunt’s side of the house most evenings to have dinner? Sort of hard not to notice a strange man lurking in the kitchen drinking vodka on the rocks in a coffee mug.”
Nessa went cold. “You can’t tell anyone.”
Fiona came around the couch. “I just had my nails done at a new place. What do you think?”
She showed Nessa her nails, plum-colored with silver swirls and a crystal at the tip of each slender finger.
“Fiona.”
“Swarovski,” she said with a superior smirk. “Going out to dinner tonight with a delicious new warlock.”
“Fiona.”
“OMG, calm down. Who would I tell and why would I care about your low-life criminal relatives?”
She walked back to her room with a dismissive wave of her hand. Pausing with her back to Nessa she said, “Though if he keeps making you cry, I might have to kick his ass,” and she shut the door behind her.
Pim and Nessa exchanged surprised glances.
“Did she say something nice?” Nessa asked her cat.
All Pim could do was meow.
CHAPTER SIX
At eleven a.m. the next morning Nessa handed her scooter key to the parking valet at Valliard’s Coffee Lounge on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills.
She’d called Madame Valencia’s office number last night identifying herself to the receptionist as Emerald Scott’s niece. After a very short time on hold listening to piano muzak, the receptionist came back on the line. She rattled off the name and address of the coffee lounge saying Madame Valencia would meet her there the following morning.
Feeling disloyal to her aunt who genuinely disliked the other Medium, Nessa with Pim in the basket scootered over as fast as her little engine could rev. The woman had made a plea directly to Nessa on local TV. Feud or no feud, such an appeal was hard to ignore. Especially since the ghost of the man in the cemetery had followed her home. Something nasty was going on here in Los Angeles. With Nessa’s luck, it was poised to bite her in the butt.
She had never been to a coffee shop with valet parking before. In fact, she’d never been to Rodeo Drive or this part of town. Beverly Hills? Out of her league. And not a place she’d chased any of Mr. Barracuda’s runaway clients.
Popping the basket lock for Pim, she placed her helmet inside. Without so much as a blink, the valet took charge of her scooter, handing her a claim check with a smile.
The entrance to Vailliards was white and gold with lots of gilt trim beneath a white and gold striped awning.
A tall woman in black slacks and a palomino turtleneck sweater approached as Nessa entered.
“I’m meeting Madame Valencia,” Nessa said quickly.
“Of course,” smiled the woman. “If you will follow me?”
They threaded their way between the tables. Pim trotted ahead, an alert set to his ears and tail.
The main salon was decorated in muted yellows and pale blue. ‘Frou-frou French’ would be how her dad would describe the décor. Every table had a tablecloth fringed in tassels color coordinated to match the room’s theme. Tables of two or four chairs upholstered in the same pale shades of yellow and blue were set at discreet intervals around the room.
Madame Valencia was elegantly draped in an upholstered high-back chair at a table by the picture windows overlooking Rodeo Drive. She was dressed in white silk and what looked like cashmere. Her long dark hair was in soft beach curls, pulled into a side ponytail and draped over one shoulder. She looked younger than she had on television. Better lighting probably.
“Miss Scott,” she said slowly, extending a slim hand, her nails a subtle blush of color with swirls of white up the center. “How nice to meet you. I knew your father.”
“He’s not dead,” Nessa said automatically.
“Isn’t he?” she said with an attempt to raise one eyebrow. The Botox only allowed it the slightest elevation.
She swept her hand to the chair before Nessa could shake it. “Sit. What would you like?”
“I’d like to talk to you about…”
“To drink,” Madame Valencia said easily. “What would you like to drink?”
Nessa felt herself blush.
The lady in black stood attentively to one side.
“Um, a double espresso, please.”
“And Madam?” asked the woman.
“My usual. And bring the dessert tray, would you?”
“Of course, Madam.”
The woman bowed herself away.
Nessa scooted a little away from the table to make room for Pim. He jumped onto her lap, silently regarding the woman across from them.
As Nessa was about to speak a tray of cakes was brought over by a different staff member, also in black and palomino.
“Have a piece of cake, dear,” Madame Valencia said. “I will as well.”
She was not going to refuse. Nessa chose what looked like a black forest cake of creamy chocolate and cherries. What she really wanted was the crispy Napoleon layered in strawberry cream but there was no polite way to eat a Napoleon. The crusty layers inevitably collapsed and chaos ensued.
Madam Valencia pointed to a decadent fruit custard and whip cream pudding.
“With your coffee or after?” the server asked.
“With, I think.”
The older woman relaxed back in her chair tilting her head to indicate Nessa should speak.
“Yesterday on television, you were talking to my aunt and me.”
“Was I?” she said.
Nessa shifted in her chair. Great, Madame Valencia was going to play games.
“Have you seen your fairies lately?”
“Whaa… what?” stuttered Nessa taken by surprise.
The other woman looked out the window. “Your fairies. You have three bondmaidens I understand.”
‘How could she know?’ Nessa thought, meeting Pim’s eyes. His tail began to lash back and forth.
The server brought their coffees.
After he left, Madame Valencia took an elegant thumb-sized clear crystal container from the quilted tan leather bag at her side.
Hermes? Nessa thought. No, Chanel. Definitely Chanel.
Unscrewing the top, she shook golden flakes on her coffee until the latte positively sparkled.
“Gold is a wonderful purifier, don’t you agree? But only twenty-four carat.”
Nessa nodded dumbly; her eyes so wide she felt them straining her contacts. The woman was putting gold flakes on her coffee.
“Would you like some?” she held the container toward Nessa’s double espresso.
Nessa nodded again. Why the heck not?
Smiling sweetly, the woman sprinkled a generous measure over the dark roast.
Pim put a paw on her arm, crowding close, as she reached for the cup. Not caring what the woman thought she offered the cup to him first. He would know if the flakes had somehow been spelled.
He lapped delicately at the coffee, paused, then nodded to Nessa.
Madame Valencia raised her eyebrows but made no comment.
Nessa took a sip and another, the flakes dissolving to a velvety whisper on her tongue.
“How does it taste?”
“Expensive,” said Nessa before she could help herself.
The woman took a slow drink of her coffee. Setting the cup down with a deliberate motion, she dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin. “The Queen of Fire has your fairies.”
Nessa blinked a few times, before saying with a shake of her head, “She does not.”
“I assure you she does. Would you like to come to the Fire Kingdom and see for yourself?”
Nessa stared at the elegant woman, completely at a loss for words. “I don’t understand,” she said at last.
“The Queen of Fire has kidnapped your fairies.”
“What? Why? Is this about the attack on the Court of Air?”
During Nessa’s swearing-in ceremony to the Queen of Air, the palace had been attacked by fire soldiers seemingly intent on kidnapping Nessa. The Queen had declared Fire would pay for the assault. Nessa hadn’t heard anything more about retribution.
Madame Valencia took another sip of her coffee. “It was not the queen behind the attack but her rival, Princess Nepenta. She wished to acquire you.”
“Acquire me?” Nessa said. “I’m not an object.”
“Aren’t you?” She waved one hand in the air. “Princess Nepenta’s failure brought you to the attention of the Queen of Fire. Her Majesty has taken your measure and requires your help.”
“She couldn’t just ask?”
Madame Valencia laughed. “That’s not how things are done in Fae.”
“How do I know you’re even telling the truth?”
Reaching into her bag the older woman pulled out her phone.
“What is your email?” she asked in a matter-of-fact voice.
Nessa read off an email she used for strangers.
Madame Valencia tapped her phone. “There.” She looked at Nessa, nodding her head slightly. “What are you waiting for? Open your phone.
The email was from madamevalencia@madamevalencia.com. Not exactly subtle.
After a few taps, Nessa’s screen opened onto what looked like a prison cell. Or a dungeon. Inside, her three fairies were chained to a stone wall. Their faces were bloody, their beautiful fluffy dresses shredded, wings wilting down to the ground. The Red Fairy looked at the camera defiantly. The Blue Fairy was crouched crying and being comforted by the Green Fairy.
Anger rose in Nessa’s chest.
“Why?” she demanded.
“The Soul Eater currently stealing souls here in L.A.is working with my Queen’s rival, the Princess Nepenta. When he has enough souls, he will help her attack the royal court to topple its queen. He will succeed. Soul Eater energy is almost unstoppable.”
Nessa glared at her. “Maybe my Queen will have something to say about you kidnapping my fairies.”
It felt very weird to say the words ‘my Queen’ but there you are. The Queen had promised Nessa protection after she swore fealty.
Madame Valencia took a long sip of her coffee, dabbing again at her upper lip before she spoke. “It is to the Queen of Air’s advantage the current status quo be maintained.”
With a sinking sensation, Nessa understood the implications of those words. “The Queen of Air is helping the Queen of Fire?”
“Behind the scenes. Let us say she is not interfering in the Queen of Fire’s play to recruit you directly.”
The server appeared with their cakes putting a temporary halt to their conversation while he set them on the table.
With a little bow, the waiter murmured “Bon Apatite,” and left them alone.
“She let my fairies be kidnapped?” Nessa said, returning to their conversation.
“Correct.”
“And won’t help me get them back?”
“Also correct.
“What a bitch.”
“Such is Faerie,” Madame Valencia said lifting a creamy bite of custard to her lips. “Mmm, lovely.” She waved the spoon in Nessa’s direction. “Go on, enjoy.”
The only thing Nessa wanted to do with the beautiful little cake was shove it into Madame Valencia’s face. She kept her hands in her lap wrapped around Pim. His body was stiff with tension.
Madame Valencia savored another bite of custard, this one crowned with a sugar-dusted strawberry.
“You could go looking for them. Useless, since your Portal Crown only allows you access to places you can identify with several visual markers. A random stone cell will not be enough to ground your Portal.” She cocked her head coquettishly, “Difficult to mount a rescue.”
The silver filigree crown operated as a Portal key between her world and Faerie. A gift presented to Nessa the night she swore fealty to the Queen.
The other woman’s cellphone vibrated. Madame Valencia picked it up, flicking on the screen. “Oh, look. Here’s a new video. Let me send it now.”
A few seconds later Nessa opened the mail.
“Taco, taco, taco,” sobbed the Red Fairy piteously, her hands over her face, her knuckles raw and bloody.
Nessa stood, physically unable to contain her rage. With anger came power. Whether she wanted it or not. Dark energy pulsed through her veins burning through her blue contacts exposing their black centers. Black as a demon. She raised her arms, the cage holding her legacy popping open.
Madame Valencia must have felt it. She carefully put her phone back into her bag.
Energy radiated from Nessa like a bomb blast as she released her enormous black wings. She swept them forward cracking every window facing the street. Tables and chairs toppled over sliding across the slick marble floor. China plates, cups, and saucers shattered. Tablecloths and napkins sailed into the air
People shouted, screamed, and swore. Some ducked to the ground, their hands over their heads, others ran to the entrance. They couldn’t see Nessa or her wings. She was cloaked in angelic glamour, the only time Nessa could summon that ability. No one was hurt. Scared, yes. She had deliberately avoided shattering the glass, though the effort at reining in her anger was choking her.
