“How … no …” The ebony skinned man stared up at me, then at his lover with pale eyes wide in shock. “Dis isn't possible.”
“Of course it's possible, you old fool,” Rosinée snickered with a cruel edge to her voice, “Did you really think I'd just give up on accessing the power of the Veil when it was so close to my reach? I found your little hiding place some fifty odd years past, cher.”
“What?!” Papa Cocodril thundered, slamming his cane down on the floor and actually shaking the structure we were in. “Fifty years? Fifty years?! Why I still been swimmin' around dat dere bayou like an overgrown lizard if you had da key all along?”
“Because you haven't apologized!” she screamed back at him, throwing a glass and smashing it against the wall. “You should have given me, your wife, what I damn well asked for in the first place!”
“Woman, I aught to—” Papa Cocodril was looking like he was gearing up for a hell of a screaming match so I decided to butt in early.
“Sorry, hi. Can you finish this later? Where is my key, Rosinée? I assume you weren't able to use it or we wouldn't be here right now.” I gave her my very best don't fuck with me glare and she shuffled her feet a little awkwardly as her bluster deflated.
For a long moment, she said nothing, just inspected her fingernails with a tight mouth until Papa Cocodril made a low, menacing growl in his throat.
“Fine!” she snapped, glaring at the enraged voodoo priest and then snarling at me. “No, I couldn't use it. Damn thing is fucking useless in the hands of anyone but the Veil Keeper.” A sly look crept over her face, despite her words ringing true. “I do know where you need to use it though.”
“Let me guess,” I sighed, “it'll cost me.”
“As anything worth having does in Faerie, no?” The Swamp Witch smiled and tossed her long dreadlocks over her shoulder as she regained her confident stance.
“What's your price, witch?” I demanded, growing very tired of these games.
Her eyes darted to her lover then back to me before her chin tipped up stubbornly.
“A baby,” she said decisively, and I thought I must have heard her wrong.
“Uh,” I frowned, “you want …”
“I want you to cure me of infertility. I have asked your good for nothing Horned God multiple times, and even tried my very best to persuade him, but it seems he is more stubborn than … well… than this bastard.” She nodded her head to Papa Cocodril, who had groaned as he sat back down to rub at his eyes. “It's simple enough to do, for you. All I require is a sample of your bodily fluid after the height of passion.”
“My bodily fluid?” I asked, the human side of me roaring to life. Ciairah O'Rourke burst out of my mouth in a shower of profanity. “What the fuck sort of bodily fluid are we talking here?” I snapped before the goddess' eternal patience took over and I found myself sucking in a sharp breath.
“I need the wetness of a god or goddess—specifically one whose powers extend to fertility. My magic can do the rest.”
“How do I know you won't misuse what I give you?” I started, trying not to think too hard about what she was asking for. She wanted the sweet nectar from between my thighs, the slick easy arousal that I made for my Lords. I couldn't even imagine 'giving' that to Rosinée or anyone else. It wasn't a commodity; it was a privilege I bestowed on my lovers.
But I needed that goddamn key.
“How do I know you won't use it against me?” I repeated as Rosinée spooned the gumbo into a wooden bowl and passed it to me. I stared hard at the food. It smelled like heaven, but I wasn't about to eat anything this woman gave to me. I supposed I could just ask though, couldn't I? “Is this poisoned?”
“This here is regular ol' gumbo, my Mami's recipe, and if you don't want it then I'll eat it or give it to that stubborn ass of a husband over there.” She gestured at me with the bowl and I narrowed my eyes. “It ain't gonna kill ya, hurt ya, maim ya, or put ya to sleep. How does that sound?” Every word she spoke was thick with truth.
“It won't transfigure me?” I asked, and the swamp witch snorted.
“Good goddess girl, you a paranoid little thing, aren't ya? No, it won't do nothing to you except fill your belly with good wholesome food. Here.” I took the bowl with a small sigh and set it on the table, breathing in the spicy smell as my mouth watered.
“So, are you going to take this deal or not?” Rosinée asked, serving up another bowl of gumbo for her husband. She served herself last and joined as at the table as I tried to figure out what to do here.
“How do I deliver this … fluid?” I asked, goosebumps crawling across my skin. This whole idea was making me uncomfortable, but I needed that key. I fucking needed it. My whole people, the entire hunt, the very fabric between worlds relied on me getting that key.
“You just bring two fingers dipped in the sacred waters and you touch them to this here charm.” Rosinée lifted up a necklace by the string, a dried chicken foot dangling from the end of it, decorated with beads, bits of bone, and tiny gems.
“I could just kill you and try to search out where you've hidden the key,” I said and both Papa Cocodril and Rosinée laughed at me.
“You could try,” she said as her husband muttered something under his breath.
“Would be a bloody battle, no?” he asked, shaking his head like he was disappointed with the whole situation. Well he should be considering he lost the key he was meant to protect in the first place. I shouldn't have to make a trade. And I also wasn't so sure I wanted the Swamp Witch to reproduce. She'd had her club attack Arlo, so she could, what, steal his bodily fluid for her spell? “You got that werewolf out there. He seems like a fertile sort of folk? Go mate him when you finish your gumbo and we can be done with this exchange.”
“I'm not mating him,” I said with a wrinkled nose. Not after his comments just now. The arrogance … Rafe truly believed I was going to choose him as a Lord. What a fool. “You'll have to wait until—”
“No,” Rosinée said, her fingers tightening around the wooden spoon she was using. “I won't wait.” She paused and looked over at her husband. “Wipe that fool smile off your face,” she growled at him as I spooned a bite of gumbo in my mouth and had to resist the urge to groan in pleasure.
Truly, it was one of the most delicious things I'd ever eaten in my life.
But I wasn't about to tell the Swamp Witch that.
“If she be needin' a lover,” Papa Cocodril said and before he could get out another word, I reached over and slapped him across the face hard. “No, no, not me!” he said, dropping his spoon in his now empty bowl and holding up his hands, palms out. The look of fear he cast in his wife's direction spoke volumes as to how their relationship must play out.
I didn't want that with my Lords.