Bone Lantern Witch Read online

  With equal care, he picked up both books and looked around the room. After a moment, he went into the bathroom and came out with the books inside a plastic garbage bag, the small type that went into little bathroom garbage cans.

  “Mind if I take this, Carmen?” he asked, holding up the bag.

  “Take what you need, Mr. Sebastian.”

  Angie frowned at the woman for a long moment. “Carmen…” She tried to choose her words carefully. “Do you have somewhere you might go for an extended vacation? Maybe for a couple of weeks? Can you take that much time off?”

  This wasn’t a safe house and with only Carmen and Grant here, after what she’d just experienced, Angie was a lot more worried for Carmen.

  “I have been considering it,” Carmen said. She glanced down the hall, toward the staircase. “My sister lives in Connecticut. I could go visit her for a few weeks. She’s had some health issues. I’m sure Mr. Grant won’t object. He prefers to be alone right now anyway.”

  Carmen met Angie’s gaze. There was a lot of unspoken meaning in that look. Angie understood. Given the coziness of Mara’s bedroom compared to the starkness of the rest of the house, Mara had to have had a friend here and Angie didn’t have to guess that friend—that family—was Carmen. But if Carmen and Mara were close, Carmen was a potential tool for Grant to get to Mara.

  Angie wondered why Grant hadn’t used Carmen already in his quest to find his daughter. Maybe because Sebastian had gotten here before the man could.

  “I think a visit with your sister sounds a lovely idea,” Sebastian said. “Difficult times. Family is always good.”

  Carmen nodded. “Yes. I’ll make the arrangements today. Thank you.” She turned out of the room, waiting for them to follow.

  But not before Angie caught the wetness of tears in her dark eyes.

  “You okay now?” Sebastian asked quietly. “Good to leave?”

  “We have things to discuss, so yeah, this is a good time to leave.”

  He nodded and motioned her to proceed him to the door. On the way out, though, she swung past the dresser and pocketed one of the lipsticks scattered there. At Sebastian’s questioning frown, she put a finger to her lips and then mouthed later.

  They didn’t see Grant before they left, which surprised her. She’d have assumed he’d come out and demand information, insist on a detailed account of what they’d found.

  Carmen solved that mystery when she nodded back toward the study and said, “He had to take a phone call from one of his political associates right after we went upstairs. But I am sure he’ll be in touch.”

  As far as Angie knew, Grant didn’t have a way to “be in touch” with Sebastian. Hunters didn’t just hand out their cellphone numbers to everyone they met. In fact, they were extremely picky about who could contact them. But since Sebastian’s hunt was ongoing—he’d have to deal with this demon Grant had summoned sooner rather than later—she assumed he’d just show back up at Grant’s door when he was ready.

  The fact that Grant wouldn’t set aside a business phone call to learn what they’d found out about his daughter struck Angie as cold. But also sort of in character for the man she’d met that afternoon. His daughter was a pawn in a plan, not an actual person he cared about. Of course some power broker was more important.

  Back out on the street, Angie took several deep breaths and let the evening air cleanse her shaking spirit. The temperature had dropped, putting a bite in the coolness that was a refreshing jolt after the nothingness of the house and her encounter with the demon book. She still carried a sense of Mara’s loneliness and her fear with her, emotions she’d carry with her for a while. But the fresh air and the normal sounds of the city helped distract her from holding onto the girl’s emotions.

  Hazards of the job.

  She pulled in another deep breath, let it out slowly, then faced Sebastian. “Thanks for your help in there.”

  “You going to explain?”

  “When we’re somewhere safe.”

  “Where?”

  One of the safest places in New York City. For her kind anyway.

  “Dana’s Cauldron.”

  Chapter Seven

  Dana’s Cauldron wasn’t just Angie’s place of work. The three-level brick storefront in the Village, dedicated to all things witchy and pagan, was her favorite place in the world outside of her family home in New Mexico.

  Walking through the door, the inevitable scent of patchouli hit her like a welcome home. Although, she never burned patchouli in her home. She didn’t really have much of the supposed witch paraphernalia in her apartment. She had a small altar she used for the occasional commune with the Goddess—she was a pagan theologically as well as being a witch—but as far as home décor went, she preferred the southwestern styles she’d grown up with and that was reflected in her personal space.

  Dana’s Cauldron, on the other hand, was an ode to all things stereotypically pagan. At least on the first level.

  The darker lighting was designed to simulate muted candlelight—though not so dark it hid the shelves of purchasable wears. The hardwood floor creaked a little when customers walked over it. The walls were hung with colorful swaths of material and posters of various gods and goddesses from around the world. The wooden shelves and tables were stacked with candles, crystals, incense, and the other necessaries a pagan might require. More shelves were filled with books on various spiritual pursuits and histories of the different pagan religions, along with some more supernatural fair that dealt with ghosts and psychics and all manner of otherworldly topics—and all of it fun. On this level, there were no dangerous books.

  Decorative wrought iron tree stands with silver and beaded jewelry hanging from the branches stood on glass cases near the cashier’s desk, cases which were crowded with more jewelry and some of the rarer Tarot decks. Another glass case held athames and various crystal and stick wands alongside a few realistic crystal balls. Small copper scrying bowls stacked against decorative pewter goblets. And little fountains scattered throughout the space filled in the soothing swoosh of moving water between the sounds of soft world music playing over the speakers.

  It was a cacophony of pagan joy. And Angie loved it.

  She stepped through the front door, the little wooden wind chimes overhead clonking their announcement that a new person had entered. The woman behind the counter spotted Angie immediately and waved.

  “You’re not working tonight,” Laura said. “What brings you in?”

  Laura Fuentes was an older pagan who’d been working at Dana’s since it opened in the late sixties. She had let her more extreme hippy apparel go sometime in the early eighties—according to her—but she still favored bellbottom jeans and embroidered poet shirts. She kept her steel gray hair in two long, thick braids that hung over her still-strong shoulders. And she always wore a choker with a pentagram embossed in the brown leather and a small shark’s tooth hanging from the band.

  The choker itself was a present from her friends when she’d come out as trans back in the early seventies. She’d transitioned since then, but she kept the choker as a reminder of her coming out and the support she’d had. The shark’s tooth was a more recent addition to the choker. She’d once claimed to a customer that she’d gotten it from a shark she’d communed with in the Pacific Ocean who’d offered it to her as a gift. Angie knew for a fact it had come from a cheap jewelry store a few blocks away.

  “I need to do a little personal work,” Angie said, stopping at the counter to give Laura a hug. “Is there a room free?”

  The psychics who worked at Dana’s Cauldron shared a series of rooms on the third floor where they conducted private readings for clients. Each room was covered with either a beaded curtain or a velvet drape which presented both privacy and a sense of not being completely cut off from the outside world. The semi-open rooms were to ensure both the customer and the psychic’s safety. There were small, innocuous cameras throughout the level, monitored from the manager’s office
on the second floor, as an additional layer of security.

  Dana’s Cauldron was a safe space, and the owners and managers went out of their way to ensure that safety for everyone who entered.

  “Room three is open.” Laura glanced around Angie to Sebastian.

  He hovered close to a nearby shelf, studying the glass statues of faeries and wizards as he tried to look innocuous. Angie realized he must be using some of his will to keep up that appearance because he did come across as significantly less imposing than usual. There were three women near where he stood and none of them seemed to take note of him. Given how gorgeous he was, and how large and imposing he could seem, and how many looks he drew when he wasn’t trying, the fact that those near him didn’t even appear to notice him was a telling sign.

  “New client?” Laura asked. She narrowed her eyes as she studied Sebastian, then gasped. “Wow. That’s some aura. I wouldn’t have realized if I hadn’t taken a deeper look.” She frowned. Then her eyebrows shot up. “Oh. I see.” She blinked at Angie. “I thought you didn’t…do that work anymore.”

  “I don’t,” Angie said firmly. “This is a special case.”

  “You know I’ve heard that before, right?”

  Angie opened her mouth to protest but Laura raised her hands, palms up.

  “Not my place to comment. Take room three. Signal me if you need help. We’ll be up to support you in a blink.”

  Angie’s heart tightened. She gave Laura another hug. “Thank you,” she murmured before pulling back. “I’m fine. But thank you.”

  She motioned to Sebastian and led him up the wooden stairs at the rear of the store.

  When they hit the second-floor landing, the lovely scents of brewing tea and various cakes and pastries hit, making Angie’s stomach growl.

  Sebastian chuckled. “I’ll feed you after we’re finished here,” he promised.

  Angie rolled her eyes. She’d never made any attempt to disguise her appetite and the amount of food she ate, and for some reason, Sebastian found her appreciation of food amusing.

  She cast a longing glance toward the little café that took up half this floor. She could use a cup of tea. Maybe with a shot of Tequila in it.

  First business, then food and tea. And possibly Tequila.

  On the third-floor landing, they met another one of the psychics who worked at Dana’s. Bianca Martin was a curvy, bouncy blonde with a personality to match. She’d wrapped herself in her “uniform”—a black flowing skirt decorated with stars and moons, a black poet’s blouse and a black leather corset that showed off her magnificent curves and creamy pale skin. Her blond hair was piled on top of her head in a loose, sexy bun. Her makeup was, as always, a work of art—tonight a smoky eye with muted lips—and she wore enough jewelry to jingle as she approached.

  “Ang!” she greeted. “Didn’t know you were working tonight, lovely.”

  “Just a bit of private business,” Angie said, exchanging a hug with Bianca. “How’re the readings going?”

  “Fabulously!” Bianca threw her arms wide. “The spirits are in a fine mood, and so am I.”

  “Who’s the new boyfriend?” Angie grinned. Bianca went through men with the joie de vive of a French widow.

  “Patrick,” she said. “A man with appetites almost as big as my own.” She glanced at Sebastian and her grin grew. “Although, I could be persuaded to move on.”

  Sebastian raised his brows, a slight, befuddled smile curving his lips.

  Angie shook her head. “This one is complicated. I’d stick with Patrick if I were you.”

  Bianca glanced between them. “Is he taken?”

  “He is,” Sebastian said, sounding amused rather than annoyed that they were talking about him as if he weren’t there.

  Angie cut him a look. “You are?”

  His brows rose higher. “You have to ask?”

  Her cheeks heated and she hurriedly looked away.

  Bianca nodded in a knowing way that made Angie’s cheeks even warmer. “I see,” Bianca said. “Complicated.”

  Angie wanted to protest. She hadn’t even seen Sebastian in over a year. But it was too…well… Complicated.

  Bianca hugged her again and kissed her on both cheeks, a move that required Angie to duck down a little. In her ear, Bianca whispered, “Complicated can be a good thing. Also, in this case, a gorgeous thing.”

  She patted Angie’s shoulders with both hands, then moved toward the stairs. “Have fun you two beautiful people.” She winked at Sebastian on the way past, which brought out his most charming grin. Bianca fanned herself on the way down the stairs.

  “Hmm,” Angie commented.

  “Indeed,” Sebastian said, his gaze softening on her.

  She turned away. She couldn’t think about all this right now. She had a missing girl to find.

  The long hall was bracketed by seven rooms the various psychics and mediums could use with clients, with an eighth room near the back they used as a huge storage closet, personal locker space, and the occasional changing room if someone had to come to work in street clothes and had to “psychic up” their appearance. The corridor was lit by wall sconces at night, to give it a more eerie feel. During the day, the light from the far, uncovered window brightened the place up a lot. The wooden floor was polished and the walls were decorated with more pictures of beautiful gods and goddesses and mythical beings. The air was thick with the scents of various incenses and the soft murmurs of people from behind most of the covered doorways.

  Angie went directly to the last room on the right, next to the storage closet, one of the smaller rooms with a picture of a moon goddess outside. A deep blue velvet curtain decorated with intricate silver Celtic knots covered the entrance. Angie pushed it aside and motioned Sebastian to proceed her into the room. He stood to the side as she followed him in and flipped a switch on the wall, turning the lights on. She adjusted the knob until the room was a comfortable level, bright enough to see and not have it feel too intimate, low enough she’d be able to scry without light interference.

  “Will the lipstick be enough of a personal item?” Sebastian asked. He’d seen her scry before.

  “Should be,” she said as she pulled out a large copper bowl from under a wooden side table. “I got a strong sense of Mara from it, and a full image of her using it.”

  She carried the bowl in two hands to the large circular table in the center of the room, then pulled out a decorative silver flask from under the cabinet. She’d tell a client these were sacred waters, extracted from a holy place in the East, or perhaps from South America, depending on the client, but in reality, it was just ordinary distilled water bought from the local grocery store.

  She emptied enough water into the copper bowl to ensure it was half filled, then capped the flask and return it to the side table. Next, she set a paper map of the city beside the bowl. It was possible Mara wasn’t in New York anymore, but this was a place to start. She retrieved a large crystal hanging from a silver chain from her overlarge purse, setting the crystal on top of the map.

  Finally, she pulled the pilfered lipstick out of her jacket pocket and set it next to the bowl, opposite side from the map and crystal. She took the strap of her purse over her head and set it to one side on an unused chair, then removed her jacket and draped it over the purse. There was a coat hanger near the entrance, for customer coats and bags, but Angie wasn’t staying long enough for that much formality.

  She kept her gaze on the scrying bowl as she settled her senses, letting the familiar feel of her surroundings sink into her subconscious, the deeply ingrained incense scents, the hardwood floor under foot, the soft murmur of voices from other rooms. The setting gave her the sense of safety and protection that she needed after her day.

  Between accidentally breaching a demon realm in the Botanical Garden and then the demonic attack from the book, she was more shaken than she was prepared to admit to Sebastian. A part of her wanted to run away and hide in her apartment with a bottle of some
thing alcoholic, a big bag of tortilla chips and guacamole, and a steady stream of innocuous cooking shows on the TV.

  The thought of opening her psychic senses again gave her a pain in her stomach.

  She unconsciously rubbed the pentagram hanging from her bracelet, letting the familiar charm settle her nerves. She was safe here in Dana’s Cauldron. Every year on All Soul’s Day, the witches who owned the place reset a protective circle around it, adding renewed strength and energy to the spell. It was a spell designed to welcome in those who meant no harm and chase away those who intended mischief—including demons and other dangerous preternatural creatures.

  In the two years Angie had been working here, she’d never once had cause to feel scared or threatened by anything or anyone. Dana’s Cauldron was as safe an establishment as it could possibly be, as safe as any place in New York. It was Angie’s second home. And her sense of security here finally helped her release all the tension and terror of the day.

  With a final cleansing breath, she dropped the protective circle keeping her psychic senses contained and stepped up to the scrying bowl.

  Time to find Mara.

  Chapter Eight

  Angie wrapped her hands around the outside edges of the bowl, let her gaze soften, and stared into the dark water. She angled the bowl a few times to ensure she wasn’t distracted by any reflective lights, then let her mind fall into the depths.

  When she felt settled, she lifted up the lipstick with her right hand and focused on Mara’s face, visualizing the girl. She let the sense of Mara’s spirit fill her as she concentrated on seeing her as she was in that moment.

  At first, and for a long minute, the waters stayed clear, showing only the beaten metal at the base of the pot. Then the image darkened, the water going opaque. She let the image unfold, concentrated but not rushing the process, continued to let her sense of Mara’s spirit dominate her conscious mind. Under her breath, she murmured a short incantation, an inquiry spell, requesting an answer.