Demons of Desire Page 7

“There’s a drier spot up further, but this is the area I’d want you to target. See how the trees over there are stunted and yellowed? I’ve checked water samples, looked at everything, but can’t figure out why they’re dying. The loss of these groves will have a significant impact on both storm protection and bayou stability.”

  And on Bev’s precious energy source, no doubt. I had a feeling this project would get the green light, but could I manage it? Moving around as best as I could on the small deck, I tried to get a good visual on the trees.

  Baldcypress — taxodium distichum. The nearest was about ten feet from where we stood, ridged bark rising into a lacy canopy of brownish–black leaves. Most of trees in the grove were young — less than two feet in diameter. Nearly all the old growth had been harvested by loggers, the soft, durable wood coveted for its resistance to rot. Left on their own, the trees became massive — with a fifteen–foot diameter to their trunk. They could live thousands of years, their dead branches serving as nursery logs for seedlings to take root in the water of the bayou.

  There was something definitely wrong with these trees, but from this distance I couldn’t tell what. I looked down at my discolored sneaker, weighing whether more than my footwear would suffer if I waded out for a closer look. But that wasn’t the only problem on my mind.

  “I’ve never healed a plant without touching it. I’m not sure what I can do from this distance. Is there a way we can get closer? I’d hate to have your coven go to all this trouble only to have me fail to make any impact.”

  Jordan frowned. “I don’t have any problem with mucking out there, but I’m not sure we could cast a circle in a foot of water. And that’s assuming the rest of the coven would even agree to conduct a ritual with the possibility of snakes and alligators swimming about.”

  Snakes and alligators. Well, that put the kibosh on any ideas of sloshing out to see the trees. “Is there a Plan B? This is a possibility, but if you’ve got another location where I can actually get my hands on the plants, that might be a better choice.”

  “The other two wouldn’t deal with plants; they’d be water or earth. A dam breach caused the release of a large volume of salt water into a group of freshwater wetlands further east a few days ago, and we’d need to restore the original water salinity.”

  There were plenty of fresh, brackish and saltwater wetlands in Louisiana, but the balance between the three was crucial to the overall health of the area. You couldn’t just flip a switch and turn a freshwater marsh into a saltwater one — all the plant life would die, and it would take years for appropriate replacements to grow. In the meantime, the loss would only add to the erosion and flooding issues that were plaguing the lower part of the state.

  “So that’s water. What’s the earth one?”

  “All the man–made canals, levees, and dams do a great job of keeping the Mississippi River from flooding the city and surrounding areas, but no flooding means no fresh, nutrient–rich sediment is being spread across the land. If we can restore nutrients to the soil, we’ll help native plants thrive, and natural storm and flooding controls will be strengthened.” Jordan shot me a tense look. “Of course, I doubt Bev would approve that one.”

  Probably not.

  This was all very complicated. I had a new respect for Jordan’s passion for her career. There were so many variables at work, so many beneficial actions that caused harm in another direction that it was difficult to know what to do. Which would be the best course of action? I looked once more at the sickly trees in the distance. Trees I could do, water and soil … I wasn’t sure.

  “I think I could do the water one — the marsh to the east.” Changing the chemical content of several bodies of water would be a challenge, but I’d done something similar with tree sap, and I might be able to use the water as a medium to reach the plants themselves.

  The extent to which I could do anything, though, would depend on how much energy I could accumulate. One goth boy tonight might have to turn into two or three. My mouth scrunched downward at the thought of banging guys assembly–line style behind a bar. Not exactly dignified, but I wouldn’t be in this state if I hadn’t become a sexual ascetic over the last few months.

  Jordan watched me, her brown eyes shrewd. “Let’s check it out before we get seventy plus people out here for a ritual.”

  We drove east, the forested swamplands becoming increasingly broken by long strips of lawn with neat houses on blocks. As we veered south, the buildings rose, some twelve feet up on concrete stilts. Driving over yet another bridge, I noticed the green ahead fading into yellow and brown.

  “That’s the affected area.”

  I’ll say. We parked, and I looked in horror at acre after acre of suffering plants.

  “What happened with the dam? Equipment failure, or excessive flooding?”

  Jordan shook her head. “Neither. It’s a fairly new dam, but a section of it just crumbled like rice paper one day. Everyone is pointing fingers — contractors, cement manufacturers, engineers. They’re still inspecting the incident.”

  I knelt down and dangled my fingers in the water, feeling the familiar glide of molecules across my skin. Water and, of course, sodium, but also traces of chloride, magnesium, potassium, sulfate, calcium and more filled my mind. I reached out, just to see if I could change the concentration of salts in the area around my hand. The resulting shock flew up my arm and knocked me backward onto my rear.

  “You okay? What happened?”

  I took a few deep breaths to slow my heart rate and stared at the water. “Has your coven attempted any magical workings on this water already? Or maybe another group?”

  Jordan tilted her head to the side. “No. The dam breach only happened a few days ago. Besides, this is our territory. Anyone else doing magic here would need to get Bev’s permission.”

  “Well, someone did something. I can clearly feel the residual magic. It’s diluted, but the original spell packed a serious punch.”

  A frown furrowed Jordan’s brow. She leaned down to drift her palm across the top of the water. “You’re right. There is magic here. It’s odd, though. I don’t think it’s Wiccan magic.”

  A shiver rolled through me. “Demon?”

  “I have no idea what demon magic would look like, beyond the sex thing you did at the club. This is … different. Maybe Scarlet Moon?”

  “Huh?” I had a vision of our satellite, blood red as it sometimes appeared in the fall, rising over the newly mown hay fields. “So it’s a planetary effect? Astrological?”

  Burgundy spirals swung from side to side, and Jordan glanced up at me, her face grim. “No. They’re a ceremonial magical organization that follows the old alchemical traditions. Their rituals are full of numerical calculations, exact incantations, and spell components. We’re all about the feeling — the energy and purpose behind the spell. With them, energy goes nowhere if the slightest thing is off in their ritual.”

  “So, like Golden Dawn or other Hermetic groups?”

  Jordan stood, wiping her hands on her pants as if to rid herself of the magical residue. “Sort of. What I don’t understand is how they could have done this sort of thing.”

  She’d totally lost me. “Done what? Tried to fix the damage the dam breach caused?”

  “No. Caused the breach.”

  * * *

  8

  I tapped my chin and squinted at Darci. “The ecru. Definitely the ecru.”

  “Seriously?” Darci blew out a puff of air. “My skin is so dark. Doesn’t it make me look like a shadow in a dress? Too much contrast?”

  “Your skin is flawless. And the contrast makes you look exotic, especially with your hair pulled up tight on top of your head like that. Besides, your legs seem five miles long in it. Gavin is going to take one look at you and imagine those legs wrapped tight around his waist while he’s inside you.”

  She was too dark to show a blush, but Darci glowed at my comment, a silly smile springing to her face. “Oh wow, what a visual
! What are you getting into tonight with Jordan? Or should I say ‘who’ are you getting into?”

  Ha ha, very funny. “A goth club where I’ll be seducing a wham–bam–thank–you–ma’am guy. And possibly a few others. Jordan has talked me into joining her coven for a ritual, and I need the extra energy.”

  Darci paused, a necklace in each hand. “I’m glad you warmed up to her. She’s brilliant, and a total hoot once you get past the awkward introductory phase.”

  And that brought me to something that had truly puzzled me for the last two days. “How the heck did you guys meet? No offense, but she hardly seems like the rest of your friends.”

  “As the future governor of Louisiana, I make it a practice to associate with all of my constituents.” Darci gave a regal wave of her hand, and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Seriously, I went to a talk she was giving on the future of the fishing and fur industries in the western part of the state, and we got to talking afterwards. Like I said, she’s brilliant. Her area of study jives with my poly–sci major, and she can be a lot of fun once you get her out of the swamps and into a club.”

  I thought while watching Darci try on ten different pairs of shoes with the ecru dress. Darci’s family had been in New Orleans for five generations. She’d always had great pride in her roots. The governor thing might have sounded like a joke, but it was more than a bit of truth. Darci had brains and plenty of ambition. If something concerned the welfare of the state and the people here, she’d know about it.

  “What do you think happened at the Little Neck Reservoir Dam the other day?”

  “Sabotage.”

  There wasn’t the slightest hesitation in Darci’s voice. Her hands, in the middle of switching navy blue pumps for wine–red sandals never faltered.

  “Why?”

  I was stunned. Jordan had suggested a variety of possible cause that were all innocent, stemming from poor workmanship and accidental quality control problems, until she identified the residual magic present in the water. Why would Darci suspect sabotage?

  “The cement company contracted in the construction was from North Carolina, and very reputable. The dam was regularly inspected. There’s no reason for that portion to fail. The whole thing has been controversial from the get go. Some environmental groups feel all the artificial water controls are doing more harm than good.” Darci shot me a knowing look. “And a few magical groups take issue with the effect dams and levees have on ley line energy that courses along the waterways.”

  “Whoa. Why would a radical environmental group sabotage the dam and send saltwater into a freshwater marsh? It seems against their overall mission.”

  “Exactly. But it wouldn’t be if they were more concerned with the magical power transmitted in the ley lines than the health of the wetlands.” Darci surveyed her appearance in the mirror, turning left and right. “When you’re born and raised in New Orleans, you learn to keep an open mind to the supernatural. We’ve got voodoo, rougarou, vampires, and more ghosts and ghouls than you can shake a stick at. We’re a hothouse of the occult down here.”

  My jaw nearly hit the floor. Darci had always been pragmatic, scholastic, driven. She went to mass every week — even when hungover. Her family was solidly middle–class — normal, average humans, hard working and energetic. They had the two–point–three kids, dog, and the white picket fence — or the New Orleans equivalent. But this … this part of her upbringing I’d never realized.

  “So this is why you weren’t as freaked out about my elf/demon revelation as I’d thought you’d be?”

  Darci shrugged, examining a variety of lipsticks for the evening. “New Orleans is thrumming with power. You don’t have to be ‘other’ to sense it. I grew up exposed to traditions and folklore that would send most people running away in terror. It’s our heritage, our birthright, and I’m proud of it. I don’t take an active part in it, but I’d be a fool not to notice and watch these things with a careful eye.”

  An it harm none. “But Wiccans would never do that. Someone could have been killed in the dam breach, and the damage to the marsh — that sort of thing would violate all they work towards. It must have been another magical group.” Such as that Crimson Moon Jordan had all but accused.

  Darci nodded. “Not every magic user in this town is Wiccan. And not everyone has the same interpretation of their creed. There are those that believe the end justifies the means, and those who feel a temporary setback is worth a longer–term gain. This is a town full of secrets, Amber. Only God knows what’s in a person’s heart.”

  My thoughts shot to Bev. I’d need to watch carefully for anyone more interested in personal power than the welfare of the people or the environment. Long term, this was their problem to take care of — Jordan, Darci, and the good citizens of New Orleans, but if my actions were at cross purposes with a mage, I might become the target of some ugly stuff. Best keep my eyes open.

  “Lover boy stopped by today,” Darci commented, grinning as she slid gold hoops into her ears.

  “Gavin?” It seemed rather early in their relationship for Darci to have that sort of pet name for him, but she always did fall hard and fast.

  “No, Irix.”

  My brain screeched to a halt. He’d called while I’d been out with Jordan, but I’d sent him to voicemail. Just talking to him distracted me, and I was sure he only wanted to pester me about my looming deadline.

  “He said to tell you ‘midnight tonight’.”

  Yep. I was hardly going to forget his ultimatum. As if we were linked by telepathy, my text alert went off, and I glanced at my phone. Remember. Midnight.

  “I like him.” I stared at Darci in amazement. “Once you pry your eyes away from the incredible, sexy good looks, and smile that would melt the polar ice caps, he seems like a nice, sincere sort of guy.”

  “He’s a demon.” Was I really hearing this from my best friend? Maybe Irix’s seductive powers went beyond sins of the flesh and he could convince people he was a “nice, sincere sort of guy”.

  “Well, you’re half demon, and you’re nice. We humans can be pretty horrible sometimes. I figure he can’t be worse than most of us, and probably a lot better than some. What’s the most awful thing he’s done, anyway?”

  I opened my mouth to protest and shut it with a snap. I really didn’t know anything bad that Irix had done, besides the love–em–and–leave–em that was part of being a sex demon. As far as I knew, he wasn’t running around disemboweling people or setting apartment complexes ablaze. The most awful thing he’d done was insist that I face what I was and accept it.

  Looking down at my phone once more, I typed in a response. I’m on it.

  Well, I would be on it. Tonight.

  * * *

  9

  I felt a little ridiculous walking the street in a neoprene black mini–skirt that barely covered my ass and what amounted to a lace bra. The skirt was covered in huge silver grommets that matched the ones in my platform boots. My fishnet hose had holes big enough to drive a truck through, and the fingerless gloves came up past my elbows.

  I’ll admit that I went through a goth phase in high school, but that had ended before my first year in college. This was a bit too much like a stroll down memory lane for me — a flashback to a younger self. At least I still had my blond hair. Black had not been a good match for my complexion, and the need to color it every week quickly grew old.

  “We’re here,” Jordan hissed in my ear.

  As if I couldn’t tell by the Victorian signage and group of black–clad individuals congregating near the doorway. The music flowing out from the doorway was promising, and the folks standing outside greeted Jordan by name, so I checked my attitude street side and waltzed on in, determined to have fun.

  The moment I walked through the door, I saw why it was one of Jordan’s favorite clubs. Heck, it would be one of my favorite clubs too if I didn’t have to put on the signature outfit every time I went. The ancient warehouse had been carved out on the inside
like a pumpkin, leaving nothing but an enormous room enclosed by brick walls. The brick had been painted black and faux stripped to look as if it had gone through centuries of wear. Dark stained–wood beams marked where a second story had been. The steel girders and piping high above were partially concealed beneath a suspended–coffered ceiling. The lighting was in cool shades of blue and violet, which gave an old romance feel to the place. Marilyn Manson blared from the speakers, and I couldn’t help but smile. Some things never change.

  Suddenly the DJ hit a switch. Black lights illuminated the dancers’ neon makeup and the formerly hidden, intricate arcane symbols painted onto the brickwork.

  “Wow.”

  “Cool, isn’t it?” Jordan grinned as she took my hand and led me to the bar past a series of imposing gargoyles. She was in a burgundy leather corset that matched her hair to a tone and lifted her light–brown breasts into a shelf just below her collarbone. She looked hot, sexy — not at all the graduate student in environment biology. Clearly that dark red hair hinted at a fire within. I eyed her in appreciation, realizing that Darci was a far better judge of character than I was. Then my gaze was transfixed by what lay ahead of us.

  The bar was a fiery hell in the middle of a misty graveyard. Here the blue lighting changed abruptly to orange, and everyone behind the rail wore red horns clipped to their hair. One bald bartender appeared to have his crazy–glued onto his scalp. We got drinks and waited. And waited. And danced. And waited some more. I was beginning to get anxious, glancing at my cellphone and noting the march of time toward midnight. I’d been scouting out guys as a backup plan, but no one was standing out to me as particularly deserving of the kind of painful passion I was about to deliver.

  “There.” Jordan nudged me and gave a sharp nod to my left. It was five minutes to midnight, and I’d expected Irix to waltz in at any moment. I’d never thought he had any particular homing instinct as far as I was concerned, but his sudden appearance in New Orleans last night, in the same club that I was, made me wonder.