By Adrian Phoenix
FIRST IN a brand new sequence! “There can be occasions, lady, while your whole magic ain’t going to be sufficient, instances while it is going to appear to dry up like dust less than the noonday solar, or maybe make concerns worse. . . .” Kallie Rivi?re, a fiery Cajun hoodoo apprentice with a expertise for difficulty, unearths herself smack-dab in the course of a kind of occasions her mentor warned her approximately while she visits New Orleans to wait the Hecatean Alliance’s annual carnival: her hard-bodied conjurer hookup finally ends up useless in her blood-drenched mattress. And he was once killed via whatever that Kallie may by no means dream of touching—the darkest of darkish juju, soul-eating juju—a black airborne dirt and dust hex which can were intended to kill her. Now Kallie has to take advantage of each piece of hoodoo wisdom and bayou-bred mojo she possesses to transparent her personal identify and locate the killer—even as that darkish sorcerer hunts Kallie and her buddies. yet Kallie’s look for the reality quickly leads her in a path she by no means anticipated—back domestic to Bayou Cypr?s Noir, and to Gabrielle LaRue, Kallie’s aunt, protector, and hoodoo mentor . . . who's taking a look progressively more like she simply may be the person who desires Kallie lifeless.
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Gage. The good-looking and hard-bodied nomad conjurer she'd hooked up with last night after the May pole dance. Playing with him had been a bendy, bouncy, naked trampoline act; a free fall into pleasure. One part Gypsy-style outlaw biker, one part pagan conjurer, and one part hot-blooded explorer---all sexy nomad. Man was beaucoup skilled. Or had been. Kallie stared at the dead man in her bed. He lay on his belly, his face turned to the side. Blood masked his fine features, glittered in his black curls.
For reply, the grim-faced and now pale Prestige manager crossed herself. The Brit brushed a wavy lock of nutmeg-brown hair away from his deep-set gray eyes with a practiced sweep of a long-fingered hand. His gaze landed on Layne and lingered for several moments before shifting to scrutinize Gage's body on the bed. "Wouldn't you agree, Ms. " the Brit asked, lifting his eyes to Kallie. "Depends on the god," Kallie said. " Something between a smile and smirk twisted up one corner of the Brit's mouth.
Ten measly bucks? " Kallie shook her head in disgust. "Okay, but that doesn't explain why you're here. " Layne looked bleakly at the blood-smeared bed and the body on top of it. " Belladonna sauntered over to the bed, her gaze cool and assessing and focused on the nomad. " Layne stared at her. "Me? " Belladonna shrugged. "Maybe there's been bad blood between you and your clan brother. How do I know that you didn't hex him? " The nomad held Belladonna's gaze, his good-looking face hard as granite.