Read Online No Rest for the Wicca by Toni LoTempio - Free Book Online
Authors: Toni LoTempio
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head. “Did I say I wanted you to practice voodoo? No. I believe I said you had certain knowledge, a certain expertise that might prove handy. And you do, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” I grumbled. “I grew up raised by a bokor and a Wiccan. I have knowledge of both arts.”
“You still practice some—oh, not the big spells, but rather, the simple chants.” Cole fingered his glass. “You’ve used some—quite recently, in fact. You continue to hone your abilities, what you’re good at. You draw upon your best resource—knowledge. And that is what I need,” Cole said. “Not another failed attempt to cast an ineffectual spell—just your knowledge. Your brain, ours for the picking. Nothing more.”
I took another swig of the brew, let the liquor burn a trail down my throat. “Why did you come here?”
“You didn’t let me finish explaining the details of the case. You walked out, made a decision without all the facts.” He clucked his tongue. “Not very professional. Gilley and I expected more of you.”
“Yeah, I’m big in the disappointment department today,” I spat out.
Cole’s lips quirked. “Perhaps. Anyway, seeing as I’m here—won’t you let me finish what we started earlier?”
I sighed. “Do I have a choice?”
He smiled. “One always has a choice.”
“So they tell me.” I slid off the stool, picked up my mug. “Come on. There’s a table near the back.”
Once we were seated, Cole withdrew the packet of photographs, passed them across to me. “Now, tell me the truth. You did pick up something from these photos, didn’t you?”
“If by pick up you mean did I get a psychic impression, I must tell you it’s not one of my special talents.”
“You know what I mean,” Cole said quietly. “The dolls.”
“Ah, yes. The dolls.”
“Really, Morgan.” His voice sounded harsh. His black eyes gleamed, and I saw the hint of red simmering below the surface. I irritated him. Good. “When are you going to stop playing games? I’m sure you recognize this particular type of charm, even I do. They’re called--”
“Messenger dolls,” I bit out. “Small, featureless bits of cloth, which usually have some sort of message secured to it with a ribbon.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.”
I traced the outline of one doll on the photograph with my nail. “Those dolls are used to send messages to lwa’s – the spirits. The doll is supposed to carry the message into the spiritual world so the lwa can grant the particular request.” I snapped my neck up to meet his gaze. “Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea what the significance of the numbers could mean.”
“I see.” Cole drummed his long fingers on the checked tablecloth, one that had definitely seen better days.
I took a breath. “Surely you have other evidence which leads you to believe the University is connected to all this.”
He traced some faded ketchup stains before he answered. “ Those girls were all enrolled in a series of classes pertaining to witchcraft and voodoo.” He pulled a list from his pocket. “Professors Graft, Erdos and Morrow.”
I cocked my head to one side. “ Graft s ounds familiar.” I snapped my fingers. “Wait—didn’t he just receive a large grant. Something to do with Haitian arts? ”
“He considers himself somewhat of an expert in the field of black magic, yet maintains he is only interested in the study, not the practice. Erdos and Morrow have also done extensive research in the field. ” He trained that gaze full on me. “Have you ever heard of Marinette?”
I looked at him, startled. “She’s a female lwa—one who oversees black magic and evil works.Why do you ask?”
“About two months ago we got a tip about an underground society . They call themselves the Sevites of Marinette. ”
I put my finger against my lips. “Sevites, huh? Voodoo-speak for servant. ”
“Correct. Our informant
“Of course I do,” I grumbled. “I grew up raised by a bokor and a Wiccan. I have knowledge of both arts.”
“You still practice some—oh, not the big spells, but rather, the simple chants.” Cole fingered his glass. “You’ve used some—quite recently, in fact. You continue to hone your abilities, what you’re good at. You draw upon your best resource—knowledge. And that is what I need,” Cole said. “Not another failed attempt to cast an ineffectual spell—just your knowledge. Your brain, ours for the picking. Nothing more.”
I took another swig of the brew, let the liquor burn a trail down my throat. “Why did you come here?”
“You didn’t let me finish explaining the details of the case. You walked out, made a decision without all the facts.” He clucked his tongue. “Not very professional. Gilley and I expected more of you.”
“Yeah, I’m big in the disappointment department today,” I spat out.
Cole’s lips quirked. “Perhaps. Anyway, seeing as I’m here—won’t you let me finish what we started earlier?”
I sighed. “Do I have a choice?”
He smiled. “One always has a choice.”
“So they tell me.” I slid off the stool, picked up my mug. “Come on. There’s a table near the back.”
Once we were seated, Cole withdrew the packet of photographs, passed them across to me. “Now, tell me the truth. You did pick up something from these photos, didn’t you?”
“If by pick up you mean did I get a psychic impression, I must tell you it’s not one of my special talents.”
“You know what I mean,” Cole said quietly. “The dolls.”
“Ah, yes. The dolls.”
“Really, Morgan.” His voice sounded harsh. His black eyes gleamed, and I saw the hint of red simmering below the surface. I irritated him. Good. “When are you going to stop playing games? I’m sure you recognize this particular type of charm, even I do. They’re called--”
“Messenger dolls,” I bit out. “Small, featureless bits of cloth, which usually have some sort of message secured to it with a ribbon.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.”
I traced the outline of one doll on the photograph with my nail. “Those dolls are used to send messages to lwa’s – the spirits. The doll is supposed to carry the message into the spiritual world so the lwa can grant the particular request.” I snapped my neck up to meet his gaze. “Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea what the significance of the numbers could mean.”
“I see.” Cole drummed his long fingers on the checked tablecloth, one that had definitely seen better days.
I took a breath. “Surely you have other evidence which leads you to believe the University is connected to all this.”
He traced some faded ketchup stains before he answered. “ Those girls were all enrolled in a series of classes pertaining to witchcraft and voodoo.” He pulled a list from his pocket. “Professors Graft, Erdos and Morrow.”
I cocked my head to one side. “ Graft s ounds familiar.” I snapped my fingers. “Wait—didn’t he just receive a large grant. Something to do with Haitian arts? ”
“He considers himself somewhat of an expert in the field of black magic, yet maintains he is only interested in the study, not the practice. Erdos and Morrow have also done extensive research in the field. ” He trained that gaze full on me. “Have you ever heard of Marinette?”
I looked at him, startled. “She’s a female lwa—one who oversees black magic and evil works.Why do you ask?”
“About two months ago we got a tip about an underground society . They call themselves the Sevites of Marinette. ”
I put my finger against my lips. “Sevites, huh? Voodoo-speak for servant. ”
“Correct. Our informant
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