Every Witch Way but Wicked Read online

  Rene took a deep breath. “Every time I show this house I get the strangest feeling – like angry eyes are watching my every move. I feel like I’m being followed, too.” Her broad shoulders shook in a brief shudder. “It’s a losing proposition for me. People want to come and look, but it’s all out of some sense of morbid curiosity. They see a couple rooms and then can’t wait to get the hell out of there.”

  Morgan studied the house with its shuttered windows, tall spires, deep gables, and felt a sense of foreboding steal over her. Her fingers moved restlessly over the well-stocked utility belt cinched at her waist. Their fears, she felt certain, were not without merit.

  Now that she’d started spouting, Rene babbled like a brook. “Just the other day I showed it to a couple who didn’t seem to balk at its—ah—unsavory history, shall we say?” One eye closed in a broad wink. “They were more than willing to overlook a little murder for a lot of discount. I swear they were ready to sign on the dotted line, and then we heard the scream. A woman’s scream, from one of the upstairs bedrooms.” Her hand fluttered up, patted at her beehive. “We raced out of there damn fast, let me tell you. I called the police right away. They came within seconds, but found no one inside. No earthly person, anyway.” Her breath shuddered out of her body and she raised eyes heavily lined in black to Morgan. “That’s when they suggested I call PSI and request you. Your Commander, Gilroy—”

  “Gilley,” Morgan corrected gently.

  “Yeah, whatever. He said I was lucky to get you. That you were transferring out in a few weeks.”

  That was true. Her boyfriend, Cole St. John, had recently been promoted and had recommended her to take his place on the Special Forces team. And even though she loved her work with PSI, it was a promotion she couldn’t really refuse. Besides the obvious prestige and increase in pay, it was a golden opportunity to work closely with Cole, and learn from the master, so to speak. Her insides warmed at the mere thought of the handsome vampire.

  She dragged her thoughts away from him with an effort and forced herself to concentrate on the woman in front of her, who was still speaking.

  “Your Commander said if anyone could cleanse this house, it would be you.”

  Morgan offered her a small smile. “Well, I assure you I’ll certainly try. I have a very good success rate with this sort of thing. Now, first I need to determine what spirit is trapped inside the house, so if there’s anything else you can add?”

  Rene made a small, mewling sound in the back of her throat. “Actually, there – there might be something else.” She lowered her lashes, and Morgan had the sense she looked embarrassed. “As I rushed out that day, I had the distinct impression that – I mean, I felt someone—or something—touch me.”

  Morgan’s eyebrow rose. “Touch you? How? A light friendly touch, like a hand on your shoulder?”

  “Hell no. This touch was far from friendly.” Rene’s eyes went wide. “It was much, much worse. It touched me here.” She pointed to her large breasts. “And here.” Her hand darted between her legs. “Like it was trying to cop a feel, or something.”

  “Ah.” Morgan inclined her head toward the massive front door. “Okay then. If you would be so kind as to unlock it for me, I’ll get to work.”

  “Sure.” Still she hesitated, her hand fluttering above her chest.

  Morgan rolled her shoulders. She’d seen looks like that before in her PSI career, usually on the faces of those withholding some sort of information. “Is there something else you wish to tell me, Rene?”

  The words croaked out, little more than a whisper. “That man—the one who murdered the girl—they said he dabbled in voodoo. That he was one with the dark spirits.” Her gaze met Morgan’s. “Your Commander said that wouldn’t be a problem for you.”

  Morgan’s eyes narrowed. A few months ago she might have balked at this challenge, but after more recent events, her confidence had been bolstered. “He’s right,” she said shortly. “It’s not. Now, if you would be so kind—”

  “Of course.”

  They walked up the few steps to the front door and Rene unlocked it, swung it wide. Morgan tapped the woman’s shoulder as she started to cross the threshold.

  “It’s best if I go in alone.”

  Morgan could swear a look of relief suffused the woman’s face. “Well, if you’re absolutely certain that you won’t … need me for anything?”

  “No. Your presence would only complicate things, disturb the energy. It’s best if I’m on my own.”

  “Well, then.” Her eyes darted nervously around before settling back on Morgan. “You—you’re not afraid, then? After all I’ve told you, you’re still willing to give this a go?”

  Morgan offered her a small smile. “Of course. I’m a ghostbuster. It’s what I do.” For the next two weeks, anyway.

  “Fine. Good luck, and call me when you’ve finished.”

  Rene tore down the front steps, hopped into the fire engine red BMW parked at the curb, and raced off. Morgan watched ‘til the taillights disappeared from view, then shook her head and let the front door swing shut behind her. Standing in the great hallway, she was suddenly assailed by a feeling of dampness, a chilling cold that swept through her entire body.

  Shake it off. You’ve faced down far worse than this.

  Morgan moved into the entryway, letting her eyes travel around her surroundings. The front foyer had several doorways leading to the rest of the house. Morgan took a quick survey. A corridor off to the right led to a spacious kitchen, appointed with the latest appliances. To the left was a living room, and just beyond that was what appeared to be a study. Morgan’s sharp gaze took in the thick plush carpeting, high ceilings and opulent wood furniture. The place oozed money. She shook her head. Too bad the owners were unable to enjoy it.

  Morgan closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the energy within the house. As a part Wiccan witch, she was used to calling upon spirits. Like most Wiccans, she used her knowledge of white magic for good. She had the ability to communicate with spirits trapped between planes, due in part to her advanced psyche, courtesy of her father, who had been a high Voodoo priest. As a result, Morgan had knowledge and talent of magic both black and white – but up until a few weeks ago an incident from her past had prevented her from utilizing her abilities to their fullest extent. She credited Cole St. John with helping her come out of her shell – one of the many reasons she loved him.

  Morgan reached out with her white light energy and immediately sensed more than one presence in the house. One energy was dark and dangerous – the male, no doubt, the rapist/killer. The other seemed more fragile and sensitive, and yet Morgan didn’t get the sense it was the same girl Rene’d mentioned, the one who had been murdered here. Who could it be?

  Seeing the winding staircase, Morgan slowly ascended it. On the second floor landing she paused. The feminine energy seemed greater here. She walked down the hall and pushed open the door at the far end, finding herself in a decidedly feminine bedroom, with pink wallpaper and a sweet canopy bed. Walking all the way into the room she sensed an immediate dip in the temperature, and she shivered slightly, feeling the icy coolness of spectral energy seep into her bones.

  “Where are you, sweetheart?” she murmured softly. “Talk to me.”

  Over in the far corner of the room, a soft green light started to glow. Morgan advanced toward it slowly, taking care to keep her voice soft and soothing. “Can you tell me your name? Are you Cassie Marvin?”

  The energy floating through the room was palpable. Deep in the recesses of her mind, Morgan heard a voice whisper softly, “No.”

  She reached out again. “Who are you?”

  “Daisy Maran,” came the voice.

  The spirit seemed willing to communicate. That was a good start. “How long have you been trapped between planes, Daisy? When did you live in this house?”

  “Long time ago,” the voice floated back to Morgan. “I lived here a long time ago. I died here when I was very youn
g. Nineteen. My spirit should be at peace, but he will not let me rest.”

  “He? Who is he?”

  “The evil one—Batanga,” the voice spat now, full of venom. “Evil Bokor who wanted me for his own—my spirit tried to get away from him. He kept calling me back here, would not let me go to the light. Finally I possessed Cassie and tried to escape him – it was the only way I could think of. But he came after me. Possessed that two bit thief and shot her down. Her spirit went to the light, but he wouldn’t let mine.” There came a long sigh, like wind howling. “Now we are both trapped here. But I want to be free of him. I want to go back.”

  Morgan nodded. She thought she understood now. Batanga had wanted Daisy for his own, and used black magic to try and raise her spirit, to be his companion. Daisy fought against him, but it had cost Cassie—and her rapist—their lives. Now Daisy wanted to be free, but Batanga used his powerful hoodoo to keep her spirit chained here, with him.

  Morgan squared her shoulders. Not if she could help it.

  “Daisy, is Batanga here now? In this house, with us?”

  Silence, and then…He is always here. He never leaves. I just want peace.

  Morgan nodded. “And you shall have it.”

  Morgan reached for the utility belt strapped around her waist. She unzipped it, pulled out a white candle and a packet of herbs. Taking a match, she lit the candle, then sprinkled the herbs around the floor in a circle.

  “To purify,” she said. “Daisy, you must listen to me. You must stay with me, and do exactly as I say. I can guide your spirit out of here, but we need to act swiftly—”

  Too late, she interrupted me. He’s here. Batanga is here.

  Morgan muttered an oath as she turned around. An ominous dark shadow loomed large in the doorway, swaying to and fro in the opening. Morgan bit back a shiver and walked purposefully toward the dark shape. As she approached, she felt a tremendous surge of energy course through her body, making her stagger back a step. Off to her left, she saw the shadowy outline take on the form of a tall man, solidly built with powerful muscles. His face remained in shadow.

  Who are you? his voice thundered through her brain. Why are you here?

  Morgan’s chin lifted. “I’m here to send you back into the black hell from whence you came, spirit. I’m here to free Daisy, and help her back into the light.”

  The head moved slightly. Ah, one who practices white magic. Wiccan.

  “Yes.”

  And something else, too, I sense. The voice deepened. You are not without knowledge of the dark side of voodoo yourself, are you?

  Morgan crossed her arms over her chest and shivered slightly. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, and Daisy. You are going to let her go back into the light.”

  Sorry. I can’t do that. Daisy will stay here with me.

  Even though she had an idea it was an exercise in futility, Morgan tried to reason. “She doesn’t want to. Why do you want her to do something she so obviously does not want to do?”

  The hatred emanating from the shadow was so strong Morgan almost fell over. She never even gave me a chance. I loved her from the moment I saw her, but she wanted no part of me. I told her I could use my magic to cure her, when she found out she was ill, and she said she would rather die. So I still used my magic, to keep her spirit here with me. I can never let her go.

  “Do you really want to love someone who so obviously does not want you? Who does not want to be here with you?”

  Morgan felt a surge of triumph at the rush of hot, fetid air. She’d made the spirit sigh, at least.

  Have you never wanted someone so badly you would do anything to have them? Even if you knew they did not want you? In time, she will change her mind.

  ‘It’s been many years, and her view hasn’t changed. Give it up. You’ve lost. Let Daisy and yourself – move onto the next plane.”

  One word burned itself through Morgan’s brain: Never.

  Yeah, well. That’s what they all said.

  Morgan squared her shoulders. “Listen, Batanga. I understand your frustration, but you’ve got to face facts. Daisy does not want to be with you, and she’s resenting you more and more for keeping her against her will. Cut your losses now, while you can. Release Daisy from your bokor magic, and allow me to help you both to go to the light. Trust me, once you let go and find peace, you’re going to end up in a much better place. I can help you do it, but you’ve got to cooperate.”

  Thanks, but no thanks. Daisy and I will remain here.

  Morgan sighed. After all, what is life without a challenge? This would most likely be her last ghostbusting case. Once she joined PSI, there would be other types of evil to overcome. Dammit, she was going to go out on a high note.

  “Have it your way. But I warn you, I can fight dirty too.”

  She heard a sound and whirled. Another ominous dark shadow loomed large behind her. As she watched, it stretched, elongated into another form, one with scales, talons for fingers, and deep red eyes. Off to her left she heard a smattering of deep, rumbling laughter.

  Batanga can call up many to help him achieve his goal. Forget it, white witch. Go home. Even in this plane my powers are greater than yours.

  “We’ll have to see about that.” Her fingers dipped into her pocket, closing around a large object which she slowly drew forth. “Know what this is?” she asked. “It’s a voodoo gourd. It’s used to ward off evil spirits.”

  The scaly form drew back as if burned and let out a mournful wail before it crumpled into itself and disappeared. Morgan held the gourd aloft and then tensed as she heard a loud thump. Her neck snapped around, but she saw nothing. Suddenly something grabbed her arm, jerked her wrist back. The gourd went sailing across the room.

  How dare you defy my power.

  Morgan was already reaching for her silver athame but Batanga was no slouch. He moved swiftly, sweeping her feet out from under her and dropping her to the floor. Morgan rolled off to the left, narrowly avoiding the swift kick the spirit aimed at her head.

  “So you want to play dirty, do you?” Morgan scooped her black bangs out of her eyes and flung both arms wide. Memories long buried cascaded to the forefront of her brain.

  “Kalibunga, Owana. Mesala, Onega.”

  The dark energy in the room pulsed, and Morgan knew Batanga was gathering all his strength. That voodoo chant was designed to weaken, but judging from the force with which the shadow rebounded, his knowledge of voodoo far exceeded hers, and his energy could easily overcome her. Morgan reached into her belt again and her fingers closed over a small packet. She drew it out, murmuring a silent prayer, at the same instant she felt a prick at the back of her neck. Her arm lashed out, sending sparks of energy flowing out of her fingertips. The dark shape materialized beside her, and Morgan jumped at the touch of icy fingertips on her left breast.

  You want to make a deal? Fine. Daisy’s spirit for yours.

  Morgan’s head jerked up. “Are you serious?”

  The shape moved as if giving a shrug. You’re feisty. And you’re right. Daisy doesn’t want me.

  “Neither do I.”

  Light laughter. Ah, but taming you will be more of a challenge. One I shall overcome and enjoy. So, white witch? What’s it to be?

  Morgan hesitated. “Why should I trust you?”

  Do you have a choice? Not if you wish to free Daisy.

  Morgan set her jaw. “Fine. I accept.”

  Excellent. Send Daisy along, now. And then you and I—we shall remain here for all eternity.

  Morgan moved swiftly lest Batanga change his mind. “Daisy,” she called softly. “Daisy, appear to me. I’m going to send you into the light.”

  Silence, and then, off in the far corner of the room, a faint green glow.

  He lies. Do not trust him.

  “It’s all right, Daisy,” Morgan said soothingly. “We’ve made a deal, Batanga and I. He will set you free in exchange for me staying here with him.”

  The green lig
ht pulsed at a frantic pace. No. You cannot make such a sacrifice.

  “It’s okay.” Morgan reached out to the girl. “Daisy, listen to me. I want you to sense a bright light descending upon you from the heavens. Can you do that?”

  A pause. Yes.

  “Good. Now, there should be a cobblestone path in the center of the light. Do you see it?”

  Yes.

  “Step onto that path, and keep walking. Just keep walking. Don’t turn back, or look back, and the path will guide you home. Do it. Now.”

  Morgan felt the energy move forward, and then suddenly felt another surge as the dark shape made a lunge. “Daisy! GO NOW!” she screamed, and stepped in front of the dark shadow. It hit her square in the chest, propelling her backward. Morgan reached into her belt, pulled out a small vial, and threw its contents square in the center of the shadow. Immediately it began to quake and shiver. Morgan turned her head slightly, saw the green light move slowly upward, and felt the sense of peace and acceptance that usually accompanied a successful sprit cleansing. She rose and whirled around, her face dark.

  “You tried to stop her,” she rasped. “You were going to reneg.”

  The shadow shimmered off in the corner. “You used Nettle. White Wiccan Bitch.”

  “True. But I’m also quite the Black Magic Wiccan. You see, I possess the best of both worlds. And now that Daisy is safe, it’s well past time I rid the world of you.”

  Reaching into her belt, Morgan pulled out two more packets. “St. John’s Wort—often used to drive away evil spirits. Combine it with Solomon’s Seal Root, and we have a powerful formula for exorcism, indeed.”

  The shadow pulsed. Exorcism?

  “You are an evil spirit, after all.” Morgan took the packets and flung the contents directly at the shadow. It squealed in pain as the herbs hit their mark, and for a minute hung in the air, totally still. Then, slowly, the shadow shifted and twisted back into the finely muscled body of a man. This time however, the facial features were clear. Batanga had a high forehead, a strong jaw, thick dark hair and slightly slanted, opaque eyes. If he weren’t so evil, Morgan might have considered him handsome.