Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

The phone in Mallory’s pocket rings, so I reach for it and answer.

“Lena, something’s happening.”

“I know, my grandmother and I are on our way. Stay with her. What is she doing?”

“She’s walking out of the house,” I reply. “She’s talking to someone we can’t see. She’s stopped on the stairs and is looking to the back of the property.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She hangs up, and I’ve never felt so fucking useless in my life. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll flank her,” Rhys says, standing to the other side of Mallory. “And we’ll keep her as physically safe as possible.”

“But it’s a metaphysical fight,” Gabby whispers, watching with wide eyes. “Thank God the kids aren’t here.”

Mallory walks down the sidewalk to where Gabby had the old slave quarter buildings moved so guests can see them and learn about the history of our plantation, and others in this area.

“Mallory, I’m right here,” I say, but there’s no response. “You’re safe, baby.”

“How can she not hear you?” Rhys asks in frustration. He’s very much like me, a protector. And when someone we care about is struggling, we need to help them.

“I don’t know for sure,” I reply, shaking my head. The wind has picked up.

“There was no storm in the forecast,” Gabby says with a frown.

Mallory reaches out, as if to hug someone. Her mouth is moving with words, but no sound is coming out. Her red hair is a riot in the wind, and her eyes are hauntingly black.

“We’re here!” Lena exclaims as she and an older woman I’m assuming is her grandmother run to us.

“What’s happening to her?” I demand.

“She’s speaking with the dead,” Lena says. “This is my grandmother, Sophia.”

“Where were you when it started?” the older woman asks.

“We were eating dinner inside.”

Suddenly, Mallory whips her gaze back to the house and shakes her head no.

“We have to go in,” Sophia says to Lena. “You and I must hold hands while we hold hers to ground each other. You chant what I do, just follow my lead.”

“If this isn’t safe—” I begin, but Sophia cuts me off.

“She’ll die,” she says fiercely. “He’s here to kill her.”

“Who?” I step back, stunned and panicked at once. “Who the fuck is trying to kill her?”

“The same madman that killed her grandmother,” Lena says. “She’s fighting for her life, Beau. We have to hold her hands, but you ground her the best. I want you to touch her shoulders, and stand beside her so she can fall back onto you if need be.”

“Now,” Sophia says, and the three join hands, and their pupils also go black.

“Jesus,” Rhys mutters and rubs his hand over his mouth. “I’ll stand on this side to steady them.”

I nod and move behind Mallory, placing my hands on her shoulders. Every muscle in her body is tight. The wind is still swirling around us, and the three women are talking, almost chanting in unison, but they’re not making any noise.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Gabby says and slips her hand into Rhys’s. “I think they’re waging a war.”

I nod, my eyes never leaving Mallory. Suddenly, Lena and Sophia blink their eyes and wake up, looking at each other. They both sag in exhaustion, and Rhys steps up to let them lean on him.

“Where is she?” I demand when Mallory doesn’t blink and come back to me right away.

“She’s saying goodbye,” Lena says sadly. “But we killed that horrible piece of shit.”

“Where?” Gabby asks, looking around. “There’s no one else here.”

“Not physically,” Sophia says and wipes her forehead on her sleeve. “But he was here.”

A tear slips down Mallory’s cheek.

“Who is she saying goodbye to?” I ask.

“Her grandmamma,” Lena says.

Finally, Mallory blinks and takes a gasping breath, falling back against me.

“Mal? Baby, are you with me?”

“I’m here,” she says, searching frantically for her phone. “I have to call Lieutenant Williams. Where’s my damn phone?”

“Who?” I pass the phone to her, and she thumbs through until she finds the number she wants.

“The sick shit who kidnapped, raped, and starved little girls just died, and I know where they are.”

“Holy fuck,” Rhys says in shock.

“This is Mallory Adams. I know the location of the missing girls.”

***

“Are you okay, Beau?” Mama asks a few hours later. She brought the kids home to the plantation, helped get them settled, and chatted with all of us for a bit before I took an exhausted Mallory out to my old place in the former carriage house.

“I don’t know what I am,” I reply honestly.

“How’s Mal?”

“She’s asleep out in the carriage house.”

“And why aren’t you with her?”

I shrug and lean on the kitchen counter, crossing my arms over my chest. “I have never felt so helpless as I did this evening.”

“And you’re the fixer,” she says with a nod. “Not everything in this world is fixable, Beau.”

“It’s my job to protect my family, and I brought a medium right into their house and it scared the shit out of all of us.”

“So it’s Mallory’s fault?”

“I didn’t say that,” I reply in frustration. “But she didn’t tell me what was happening with the psycho who had targeted her. She didn’t tell me how her grandmother died. Those are some pretty big things to forget to mention.”

“Perhaps she just wanted to be a woman enjoying a man, and not a psychic.”

“She’s both,” I reply with a frown.

“Does it make you love her less?”

“It scares me,” I reply, evading the question. “What if it happens again? Or, what if it’s even worse and it puts the family at risk? I don’t know if I can continue with this if—”

I can’t finish the thought, but Mama nods, understanding.

“You’ve always protected us, Beau. Before your daddy died, and even more so after.”

“It’s my job.”

“No, my dear boy, it’s not your job.”

“I’m the eldest, and Papa’s gone. Of course it’s my job to see after all of you.”

“But what about you?” she asks and slams her fist on the countertop, pissed off. “You’re a man. You’re a successful, intelligent, handsome man who deserves to love a woman, and have children, and everything else that goes with that. And rather than pursue a family of your own, you’ve spent your entire adulthood taking care of the rest of us. It’s okay for you to take care of yourself for a change, Beau. We can take care of ourselves.”

“I’m no martyr,” I reply, just as pissed. “I’m just doing the right thing. And I don’t know if bringing Mallory into our family is the right thing.”

“Yes, you do,” she replies, more softly now. “But I think you’re scared of a woman, for the first time in your life. Not because of her unusual gifts, but because you love her.”