Witch's Wrath (Blood And Magick #3)(40)

If I was in the Ninth Ward, and I had been dumped in a nearby swampy area, then what I wanted to do was head north. I would be walking for hours, but eventually I’d hit the interstate, or water, around either of which I would find lights, if not people.

I had been stupid to go and talk to Tamara alone. This was the thought keeping me company as I started on the long trek through the swamp. She was clearly bat-shit insane, and dropping me in the middle of a swamp proved it if nothing else would. Thinking about it now, stupid wasn’t the word to describe my decision to go and talk to Tamara alone. There should be a medal for people who screw up as much as I just had.

A twig snapped somewhere nearby, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

Scanning around in a wide arc with my glowing hand stretched above my head like a lantern, I saw nothing of note. The swamp was alive and moving, but there was nothing to suggest what could have caused that noise. Still, my heart began to thump against my chest, and my head started to swim. Maybe it was the knock or the blood loss, maybe it was a little bit of both, but the dizziness seemed to be getting worse.

I realized then the light wasn’t bringing me too much comfort. In fact, the darkness wasn’t the worst thing about this place; it was the noise. There was rustling, and bubbling, and swishing, and I didn’t know where any of it was coming from. The twig snap had been loud, louder than the other sounds, but the others were there all the time, as an awful, unsettling background noise. Whether caused by a gator, a snake, a fish, or something much darker—like the rougarou—, the bayou was alive, and I was not safe here on my own.

I turned again and found west by way of the North Star, then continued on my walk, but something was different. The impression that shadows were shifting quickly around me, zipping between trees to avoid detection, stuck like a catchy old song I couldn’t shake. Then a thought crossed my mind—a dreadful, panic-inducing thought.

What if I’m not alone out here?

Immediately, I went on the defensive, my back stiffening as the hairs on the nape of my neck rose on their points. I remained as still as I could and watched the swamp for movement, turning slowly. For the most part, the area was still. Pockets of air in puddles bubbled to the surface while slithery things crawled low to the ground. But my line of sight was as static as a landscape painting of the swamp itself.

That was, until the air began to shimmer, and the darkness spat out a soft, green glow.

The light seemed to have pushed itself into existence out of nothing. I stared at it, backing away slowly but also mesmerized by the way it swirled and shimmered like a mirage—a twisting, shifting green flame no bigger than a cat, burning between the trees. And from it, a small creature emerged. One I recognized.

It was an imp.

The imp came toward me, not walking slowly or carefully, but running—a small pixie with pink skin, green eyes, floppy, pointed ears and a rat like tail, leaving a trail of green fire as it ran. If I hadn’t known what it was, if I hadn’t encountered any of them before, I may have started to run, but I stayed where I was and even knelt to greet this oddly adorable thing.

But I didn’t see happiness in its eyes, or even friendliness. Its mouth was open in a wide O of fear, its hands up and flailing. The imp seemed to be pointing at me and shouting, though I couldn’t understand what it was saying. I hadn’t learned their language, and Jared wasn’t here to translate. It was only when death’s icy cold breath caressed the back of my neck that I knew; the imp wasn’t pointing at me, but over my shoulder.

I spun around, palms up and crossed in front of my face, and bid magick to come flowing through me like water blasting out of a fire hydrant, striking whatever was behind me.

And I did hit something. Whatever it was rose a clear six feet off the ground and sailed across the swamp, striking the trunk of a tree with a loud thump and falling to the ground. Heart thrumming, head pounding, I straightened up and checked the area where the thing had fallen, but there was nothing on the there.

A black mass suddenly passed in front of me, as fast as a bullet and darker than the night itself. I jumped, ready to defend myself again, but when I looked around, I could see no one and nothing—only the imp, equally as alarmed as I was, its floppy ears now upright and arched back, like a cat’s.

Another shade zipped around behind me, creating a sound like a whisper. I was beginning to think there was more than one person out here, and that they were playing with me. Was it Tamara? No, I doubted it was. Why dump me in the swamp just to toy with me? She could have done that back at her house. This was something else—someone else—and I had a feeling I knew who.

“Who’s there?” I yelled, my voice filling the swamp. From between two trees, a shade began to creep out, moving as slowly and as implacably as mist. Human in shape, tall, dark, and slender, I couldn’t see what the person looked like, but knew from the way her hair flowed and her eyes shone that it was Marie Boucher.

Immediately, my hands balled into fists. “Stay behind me,” I said to the imp, whose breathing was even more ragged than mine.

“Hello, Madison,” she said, in her smooth, silken voice. “I suppose it’s time we introduced ourselves.”

“I know your name, Marie Boucher.”

She smiled, sweetly. “I see you’ve been speaking to Jean Luc. I haven’t gone by the name of Marie Boucher in many, many decades, but I’ll allow you to use it if you like.”