Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

“If this ever happens again, you come to me right away. Do you understand?”


We’re both flabbergasted as we nod in agreement. I’ve never seen her like this. She looks scared, and that makes me shiver to the bone.

“What is going on?” I ask. “And how does this have anything to do with my grandmother?”

“You know that she died because an evil presence embedded itself inside her head so deeply that she couldn’t defend herself.”

Lena and I both nod.

“But you don’t know how or why that happened.”

“It happened because she chose to help the police find missing children,” I reply. “And she did. Hundreds of them. I may not love that it eventually took her away from me, but she helped families and she was proud of that.”

“Yes. And she chose to do that because her own daughter had been kidnapped and killed when she was a little girl, and she couldn’t find her.”

I gasp and sit back, my jaw dropped, and feel the world fall out from under me.

“That’s not true.”

“I’m so sorry, sugar, but it is true.” She reaches over to pat my hand, but I sit back out of her way.

I can’t be touched right now. I don’t want to feel the pain or see the memories going through her head.

“She never mentioned it.”

“No, she never spoke of it. And your parents died when you were so young, there was no one else to tell you.”

“Except you.”

Lena hasn’t said anything. Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and she’s staring across the room, as if she’s trying to process it all.

“It wasn’t my place to tell you when your grandmamma was still alive,” Miss Sophia replies gently. “And then when she was gone… Well, how does one bring up that conversation?”

My mouth is suddenly dry. I take a sip of tea. “Why are you telling me now?”

“Because it’s what put everything into motion. That sweet little angel Melissa—”

“Melissa was my aunt’s name?” I ask.

“Yes. She was only five when she was taken. And your poor grandmamma tried so hard to be able to see where she was. But it was no use. She couldn’t see it, and a week later, Melissa was found. She didn’t survive.

“And then your grandmamma was a woman on a mission. She wasn’t going to let other families go through what she and your grandpapa did. Her only goal in life was to help children come home safely, and later, to take care of you.”

“But how could it kill her?” I demand, still not fully understanding. “She would never tell me, she just said that it was dangerous, and she was willing to do it if it meant she helped even one child be reunited with their family.”

“Evil is strong,” Miss Sophia replies. Her voice is strong again, almost emotionless as if she doesn’t want to give the word any power at all. “My sweet friend was the strongest psychic I knew. Well, until you.”

I stare at her in horror. “Me?”

“Oh, yes. You.” She nods sadly, then continues. “She was powerful, and she was just so good. She had trained herself to translate symbols, to listen, to know. It was years in the making, but she was the best there was. She didn’t even need to hold a piece of the victim’s clothing, or go to where they lived. She could reach out and search from her living room.”

“I can travel that way.” I think of the dream a couple of weeks ago, and how I often travel to different places in my dreams.

“Yes, you have many of the same gifts,” she replies with a smile. “And many other different ones. The dangerous part of opening your mind to find evil is that you’re essentially giving that evil a door to walk into if you’re not careful.”

“So, a living person, also psychic, walked into her head and killed her?”

“I know it sounds impossible, but essentially yes. Another powerful, evil psychic living man did just that.”

“And what does that have to do with what happened today?”

“I believe it’s the same man,” she replies, completely throwing me.

“What? No. That man went to jail.”

“He was admitted to a hospital for the criminally insane because he was given an insanity sentence,” she replies and everything in me goes dead cold.

“He’s out?”

She nods.

“And how do you know it was him?”

“Because I can see him,” she replies and that’s it. That’s all I can handle.

I stand and begin pacing, tears streaming down my face.

“I don’t psychically see living people,” I say, feeling everything in me begin to break. “I see them once they’re dead.”

“Yes, and that’s one of your differences.”

“So why is this happening?”

I’m just lost. I don’t understand, and I don’t want it.

“That detective called you,” Lena says, as if she’s just woken up and joined us.

“What detective?”

“I think her name was Detective Williams? Wait, she’s a lieutenant now.”

“In New York?” Miss Sophia asks, her eyes wide and not a little frightened.

“Yes,” Lena replies. “Remember, Mal?”

“Of course I remember,” I snap.

“He’s back at it,” Miss Sophia says and closes her eyes, letting out a long breath. “He’s hurting people again.”

“I can’t help,” I reply. “And yes, that makes me feel like an asshole, but I don’t have the same abilities that Grandmamma had, and I can’t help!”

“I’m not telling you to help,” Miss Sophia says. “But he’s worried that you will try to help, and he’s targeted you.”

“How does he even know about me?”

“He might have read the obituary,” Lena says. “You were mentioned in it.”

I shake my head and continue to pace back and forth, too wound up to sit down. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“None of us ask for it,” Miss Sophia replies.

“Some do. Some search it out. I never wanted it. I just want to be a normal woman, who owns a store and has an awesome boyfriend.”

“But that’s not all you are,” Lena says and shrugs. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. You’ve always had a hard time admitting it, accepting it, but it’s who you are, Mal. You need to start seeing the glass as half full.”

“Really?” I demand and snort out a laugh. “The glass is half full because I can see dead people and a crazy psycho psychic is trying to kill me? Seems like the glass is half empty to me.”

“You’re missing the point,” Miss Sophia interrupts. “The point is, the glass is refillable. Fill your glass with the love of your man, and your successful shop, and your family and friends. And when the glass empties because of the unpleasantness of your gifts, go back to those places to fill it up again.”

“Stop being smart,” I pout and swipe the tears from my cheeks. “Why didn’t Grandmamma tell me all of this when she was still here?”

“Because you already didn’t want it,” Miss Sophia responds with a resigned shrug. “She knew you were resistant to it. She didn’t want to push you into embracing something that you didn’t want.”