Spells A Bayou Magic Novel - Kristen Proby Page 0,6
the few red drops that bead across the door at eye-level.
This shield is my Power to protect against evil.
This shield keeps out harm.
This shield does not allow evil or negative energies to pass.
No dark entities shall cross this barrier.
As I will it, so mote it be.
When I’m satisfied that the protection around Millie’s home is strong enough for my liking, I wink at the cat and turn to walk away. Suddenly, I stop cold when the sun darkens, and I’m standing in absolute blackness. A red glow begins to burn on a foreign horizon.
It’s all a mirage meant to scare me and make me distrust myself and my abilities.
But he’s chosen the wrong man to fuck with.
“You’re not welcome here, you evil son of a bitch.”
I begin to chant, using the same words we used when we cast the circle last year. Immediately, the red glow dies, and the darkness turns back to daylight.
He’s not strong enough to fight me. Not yet.
I’ve been immersed in the lab all morning, completely swept up in a mystery under my microscope when my phone rings.
I want it to be Millicent, but it’s not. It’s Cash Winslow, a member of the local police department, and husband of Millie’s sister, Brielle.
“Good morning,” I say when I answer the phone.
“You won’t think so when I tell you why I’ve called,” he replies
“What’s up?”
“I need your help with something. We have a new vic. He was dumped in the street in front of Café Amelie last night. I’d like to run some things by you.”
I narrow my eyes. “I take it something’s wrong with his blood?”
“Yeah. As in, there isn’t any.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I hang up my lab coat and close down my lab, stowing my tools and specimens away before locking up and hurrying over to the police department.
Cash has brought me in on a few cases lately, all of them dealing with some kind of blood concern.
Blood is my job, after all. I’ve known since I was a small boy that working with blood would be important.
I’m lucky that I also enjoy it, find it fascinating, and it provides a good living.
When I arrive at the station, Cash is waiting for me.
“We’re headed down to the morgue,” he informs me. “Unless you have a problem with that.”
I shake my head and walk with him to the elevator. Once in the basement, we follow a hallway to the morgue where the medical examiner is waiting.
A corpse lies on a slab in the middle of the room, the body completely covered in slashes and cuts.
“That’s a shitty way to die,” I say as I approach. Some of the cuts have already formed scabs. “He was tortured.”
“Mercilessly,” the ME agrees. “Bled slowly for a while, and then was drained completely.”
My eyes find Cash’s. “Why am I here?”
“Because we also found this.” Cash passes me a plastic bag containing a stone.
“It’s a bloodstone,” I reply, looking carefully at the smooth rock, big enough to almost fill the palm of my hand. “A big one. And it’s covered, coincidentally, in blood.”
“Not the victim’s blood,” the ME says, and my eyes shoot up to his. “The blood type on the stone, which we found in the victim’s throat, doesn’t match what we were able to collect from the body. And trust me, there wasn’t much left.”
I stare down at the rock in my hand and let myself open up to it, trying to read what happened to it before it came to be in its final resting place.
But a powerful spell has been cast on it, preventing me from seeing anything.
In fact, even trying nauseates me.
“We need an analysis on that blood,” Cash insists. “I need DNA to see if it matches anyone else who might be missing. Or if I’m lucky, the killer’s.”
“It won’t be the killer’s blood,” I reply without thinking.
Cash tilts his head to the side and watches me. “Why do you say that?”
“Just a hunch,” I lie easily. “Can I take this with me?”
“Of course,” Cash says. “I’ll write you a chain of custody receipt for it.”
I nod and turn away but look back at him. “Who’s the vic?”
“We don’t know,” Cash answers with a sigh. “He doesn’t match any missing persons’ reports.”
“Daphne might be able to help with that,” I remind him. Daphne has the gift of psychometry, touching objects and people and knowing everything about it or them. I don’t envy that gift.
“I’d rather not bring her in if I don’t have to.”