Don’t come closer. Turn back. Turn back.
Caliste watched as the young couple wandered along the darkening street. She glanced around at the other shopkeepers. They had paused to watch the strangers too.
Ordinaires in the witch’s square wasn’t rare—it was New Orleans after all, but these humans had wandered far from the typical voodoo tourist path.
What business did they have with the covens? Caliste bit her bottom lip. Ordinaires meddling in magic never ended well.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow move toward the unsuspecting pair. It shifted, its white slants for eyes flashing as it crept along.
Caliste’s stomach clenched with dread. Babet’s familiar. Which meant the old crone was lurking somewhere nearby.
Tying up the last threads on her gris-gris charms, she hung the spelled amulets from her shop sign and hurried to catch up with Mdima before it approached the couple.
The shadow creature spotted her right away, yellowed fangs bared in a warning to stay away. Caliste glared back. It was trying to claim the ordinaires for its master.
Not happening.
Quick as she could, she threw a spell around the young man and woman. They stopped in their tracks and turned to her.
Everyone was watching now. Caliste glanced at the shadows. Mdima had disappeared. No doubt to hunt down Babet to tattle on her.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach. She’d have to deal with the old witch later.
“We’re looking for the shaman. Can you tell us which shop is his?” the man spoke first.
Though he tried to put on a brave face for the cowering woman by his side, Caliste could sense his fear. The magic on the square swirled alongside his heightened emotions, ready to feed from them.
Poor things. Ordinaires were always afraid, but if they knew—truly knew—of the dark things that lived in secret, they’d never leave home.
“The shaman?” the man prompted once more.
His eyes skittered along the street and widened, realizing they had a sizable audience now.
Caliste shook her head, her spelled beads on her braid swaying at the movement. “Which shaman? There are many. And this isn’t a place for… tourists. You shouldn’t be here.”
The woman at his side peered at her, clutching the man’s arm tighter. “I told you.”
He shot her an exasperated look and turned back to Caliste. “We were given this address.” He held out a slip of crumpled paper to her.
Rue de l’ombre—Shadow Street.
Caliste’s blood turned to ice. There was no shaman that lived at that address.
She met the man’s stare. “Who gave you that?”
He shoved the paper back into his pocket and frowned at her. “A friend. Do you know how to get there or not?”
“Thank you, Caliste. I’ll help them from here.” Babet’s rich voice called from behind.
Caliste stiffened. The older witch hobbled up with her cane, her shadow familiar on her heels. Its flashing white eyes turned to Caliste, teeth shifted into what looked like a smug smile. Or as smug as it could manage being an otherworldly creature.
Caliste tracked Babet’s slow and careful movements. What was the hag up to now?
“They’re looking for a shaman. Not a witch.” Caliste gave her a pointed look.
The witch smiled, a toothless grin. All of it—her cane, fake limp, and sweet grann appearance were tricks to lure others into thinking her harmless.
She was not harmless.
“Yes, I know, my dear. I know just the shaman you’re looking for, my sweets” She turned her attention to the ordinaires.
The couple looked from her to Caliste, confusion and uncertainty written on their faces.
Caliste shared their confusion. What was Babet doing escorting ordinaires to such a place? Something was going on. The older witch threw her a warning glare, offering a quick glimpse of the power she held.
It would be wise to back off. Let the crone continue her business. Caliste scanned the shops. The others would be no help. She’d seen it time and again. When it came to the magicless humans, most of the witches couldn’t be bothered to help. Not unless there was something in it for them.
The young woman shuddered against the man making Caliste’s heart twist. She couldn’t just let them walk away with Babet to who knew what horrific end.
She needed to make up her mind and quickly before her protection spell wore off.
As if reading her thoughts, Babet chuckled and waved her arm in a motherly gesture. “Come on. Let’s get you off the streets, sweets. It’s getting late.”
With a final wave, she brushed away Caliste’s spell—swept it away as if it had been nothing. Caliste’s hackles rose. The witch was definitely up to something.
“I’m coming too.” Caliste blurted out.
Babet’s eyes narrowed to slits. Her gnarled hands rested atop of each other on her cane. “Don’t you have your shop to attend to, mezanmi?”
Caliste held her stare. “I was going to close early anyway.”
Behind her, Mdima was leaping from shadow to shadow, eager for a fight. Whispers echoed along the street. One of the witches from her coven, Mona, disappeared into the back of the apothecary. Probably to warn their supreme of what Caliste was up to. Stéphanie wouldn’t be pleased with her.
Old Babet was not someone to mess with.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but is someone going to take us to this shaman or not?” The man’s voice grew irritated.
Caliste looked to him and his companion. Mice caught in a trap. They were oblivious of the grave danger they had got themselves into. What could have driven them to such desperation that would lead them there?
Lips spreading in what reminded Caliste of a crocodile grin, Babet bobbed her head at them. “Of course. Of course. Let Ol’Babet show you the way.” She chuckled and coughed.
Caliste rolled her eyes at the theatrics. Couldn’t they see through her bayou grann act? But of course not. The ordinaires only saw what they wanted to see.
Babet led them past the curious onlookers, throwing one last warning glare at Caliste.
The witch’s message was clear—stay out of my way.
Gathering all the strength she could, Caliste followed, mind running through all the spells she knew. A simple protection one wasn’t going to cut it and there was no time to go back to her shop and grab any supplies. Fear snaked up her spine.
Rue de l’ombre.
It wasn’t a place for tourists. Not even their most skilled caster would go there. Only the dead walked there.
* * *
Babet led them to the end of the darkening street, pausing outside the giant stone wall that enclosed the district. Caliste watched, curious to see the witch’s next move. She wouldn’t dare cross the magical barrier with humans in tow, would she?
“Payment?” The old hag held out one of her gnarled hands.
The young woman nudged the man. His eyes darted from Caliste to Babet. Caliste’s lips pursed. His instincts were probably warning him. She could see the battle raging in his furrowed brow. He was trying so hard to convince himself that he was in control. That he was safe.
If only you knew.
Humans were rarely safe. These two had no idea what they were doing—where they were being led to or that the old woman before them was the living, breathing epitome of death and destruction herself.
“Here.” He finally responded.
Caliste sighed. Of course, he wouldn’t listen to his gut reaction. Why did humans have such a penchant for involving themselves where they didn’t belong?
She watched as he handed Babet what looked like a giant stack of crisp, green bills. Her lip curled as she watched the witch sniff it and shove it down her dirty blouse.
Blood money. The poor idiot didn’t even realize it would be his blood.
Caliste’s stomach turned over with dread. If there was anything she could do to stop it, she would. She had to. Though her mind was running a blank every time she tried to strategize.
Movement caught her eye. She turned to see Babet’s familiar bounding from shadow to shadow, moving in an excited frenzy.
Its reaction made the hairs on her neck bristle. What was the beast so eager for? Shadow magic was strong and unpredictable, produced by darkness, death, and decay. Not many could wield it—in fact, very, very few could.
Her affinity was for solar magic and as the night grew closer, her spells grew weaker. Even with her extra conduit, she would be no match for Babet.
“Now that payments been settled, it’s time to hurry along. There are dangers lurking in the night.” The older witch chuckled.
Caliste shot her a dirty look. The crone was the most dangerous thing present, and she knew it.
“Follow me, my sweets.”
The old witch pushed in one of the stones along the wall. It rumbled and caved in, revealing a gaping hole. Darkness stood on the other side. The young woman gasped, grabbing for the man’s hand. He took it and patted it reassuringly.
Little mice. So clueless.
If the hidden entrance was enough to scare them, they were going to be petrified of what was waiting for them on the other side.
Pushing down her own fear, Caliste sent up a quick prayer to her ancestors and cast a protection spell around herself.
She tried to duplicate it and send it to the ordinaires, but it bounced off an invisible force. Her eyes shot to Babet. The witch smiled at her.
It was too late now to reevaluate her reckless choice in following them. Maybe Stéphanie would be curious enough to send another witch or two after her. Though that was almost too much to hope for. Nobody liked to interfere with the old witch.
Babet wasn’t bound to any coven—or any rules if she could help it.
Caliste wasn’t even sure if the hag was even fully human like the other witches. To be as powerful as Babet, she had to have sold her soul to something dark and outlived her humanity or not have been completely human to begin with.
She was definitely on the GRIMM’s watch list, Caliste was sure. Did they have an agent tracking her? Caliste scanned the area. The organization had some greatly skilled casters who could cloak themselves from even the strongest witches.
Only silence surrounded her. Her heart sank as she watched the ordinaires follow Babet into the darkness. GRIMM or no GRIMM, help or no help, she had to go after them.
She might be their only hope.
Mdima leapt toward her, sharp teeth nipping at her barrier. Its creepy white-slit eyes flashed at her. Caliste scowled, wishing she could hit it with a spell and send it flying back to whatever dark realm it came from.
But that would take a lot of juice, and her power was limited. She needed to save all her resources for helping the couple.
Some people were beyond help Stéphanie would say, but Caliste didn’t agree with her coven leader. Magic could be used for good just as it could for bad and the ordinaires were worth saving.
Waving the shadow beast out of her path, Caliste lifted the hem of her long dress and stepped over the rubble, into the dark.
The hairs on her neck bristled. Her gris-gris charm burned hot against her skin as she blinked against the blackness. Babet was leading them to the hidden catacombs deep beneath the city. Though Caliste had never stepped foot on the notorious path, she was hopeful she would be able to navigate it and help the man and woman.
Their excited voices called from the distance. Caliste hurried to catch up, Mdima right on her heels. Had Babet ordered her pet to keep tabs on her? Caliste frowned. What was the old witch up to?
As she rejoined the couple, she was surprised to find them not shaking in terror, but instead…eager and hopeful—giddy, even. They giggled together like children.
Caliste searched the darkness for Babet. What spell had the witch cast?
“It’s so beautiful.” The woman crooned.
The man sighed beside her. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful place.”
Their sincere reverence made Caliste pause as well. She squinted, trying to see what they were seeing, but all she could see was black.
Nothing was there.
Coldness swirled around her, giving her goosebumps. Way too cold for a summer night in New Orleans. This wasn’t a natural cold, but something darker and stronger. Fear filled her.
Caliste.
She stumbled back at the sound of her name. The eerie voice echoed from every direction and judging by the others’ response, she was the only one who had heard it. It reminded her of something sharp like nails scraping against stone.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t of their world and the fact that it knew her by name made her shudder. Hands flying fast, she mouthed a strong boost for her protection spell to cast around herself and the humans. It shattered into pieces against an invisible source.
Her blood turned to ice.
Babet chuckled, drawing her attention.
The whites of her eyes glowed in the dark as she watched Caliste. “You’ve never come here before, have you.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a taunt. Was the witch trying to scare her off? Frighten her away so she couldn’t interfere with her wicked plan for the ordinaires?
Caliste shoved down her fear and met her stare. “No, but I know the rumors.”
Babet laughed. “The rumors are nothing compared to the truth. You should turn back now while you still can. From one witch to another, there are some paths that are not mean to be taken.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Suit yourself, stubborn child, but I’m warning you. You won’t like what you find.”
A scream cut through the air. Caliste whipped toward the humans, her heart dropping. She raised her hands, ready to cast. Her eyes scanned the darkness.
What had she stumbled into?