she’d laid out. “How is that you not being my partner?”
He frowned. “Do you know what a tattoo artist does all day?”
“Tattoo people?”
“I draw.” He tapped the desktop. “I am far more equipped to trace out the sigil than you and yet, you never even thought about asking me to do it, did you?”
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and stared at the desk. “No, I didn’t.” She dropped the hair to look at him again. Goddess help her, she needed to learn to let go. “I’m not only a bad high priestess, I’m a bad girlfriend. I’m sorry.”
He took her shoulders, forcing her to meet him eye to eye. “Hey, you’re just stressed. And used to doing things alone. Let me do the sigil and you… get out of this house for a while and do anything but think about casting this spell.”
“Get out of the house? Where am I supposed to go? The new house? Visiting that place only makes me crazy when I see how much work there is yet to be done. Visiting the old one makes me sad.”
“Neither. Go for a walk. Get some fresh air. Just go. I know you’re not a green witch, but it’ll still do you some good. Let me draw and your sister sleep.”
“Are you ordering me?”
A rebellious light gleamed in his eyes. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”
Chapter Fourteen
As a way of offering Harlow some help and protection, Queen Jewelia had offered to make her a gris gris. The cake and coffee had been cleared and Queen Jewelia was now positioned directly across from Harlow. In the center of the table sat an old family Bible, the gilt worn off its edges and the leather cover cracked and shiny with use. On top of the Bible lay a small, red leather pouch. It reminded her of the one Rufus Ogun had worn around his neck. Which brought to mind a new question.
Harlow lifted her finger. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but how is this going to protect me? Ogun wore one of these around his neck and he’s stuck in the well of souls just like everyone else.”
Jewelia made a face. “I can guarantee that man’s gris gris wasn’t for protection against the witches, although it shoulda been. His was probably for the drawing of wealth and the influencing of strangers.” She waved her hand. “Nothing like what I’m about to make for you.”
Satisfied, Harlow nodded and went back to watching.
Jewelia situated four small dishes around the Bible. One held salt, one water, one a lit candle and one a cone of incense.
Jewelia nodded at Harlow. “All right, child. Put your hand on the Bible, over top the bag.”
Harlow did as she asked, but her face must have showed her surprise.
“Still don’t believe, do you?” Jewelia looked at Lally. “If the child doesn’t believe—”
“It’s not that,” Harlow interrupted. “I’ve seen enough these past weeks to believe in almost everything at this point. I just didn’t expect you to use a Bible.”
Jewelia’s smile was thin but it reached her eyes. “Voodoo, like any religion, requires a lot of faith. Most of us who practice go to church and pray just like the rest of you. Maybe more than the rest of you. Now, for some, it’s just show. For others, like myself, it’s not. Which is also why I will not do many of the rituals Father Ogun considers normal practice.”
Harlow smiled. “Thank you for explaining.” She sat up a little straighter. “What do you need me to do next?”
Jewelia struck a wooden match, then lit the incense cone. A thin stream of smoke spiraled up, filling the room with a woodsy scent. “As the incense burns, we will consecrate the charms that will go in your gris gris. Hold out your other hand.” Into Harlow’s palm she placed a dried mushroom, a small piece of bark, another bit of some kind of root and a pinch of salt. Then she closed her hand over Harlow’s and placed her other on the Bible. “Hear my voice, O God. Hear my prayer. Preserve Harlow’s life from the fear of the wicked.”
She lifted her hand and added more things to Harlow’s palm: a tiny metal cross, a coiled length of black thread, a shard of bone or shell, a tiny slip of paper with a pentagram drawn on it and lastly, a pinch of the earth collected from the witches’ garden. She covered Harlow’s hand again and