Grim Shadows (Roaring Twenties #2)(70)

“If you wanted a private balcony room, you should’ve told Daniels.”

Hadley jerked away. Standing in front of the table was a tall woman in her mid-thirties with pale nutmeg skin of indeterminable ancestry. Her hair was cut short in an Eton crop, styled into shiny brown finger waves molded close to her head, and she was dressed in a soft blue gown that glittered with beads.

He jumped to his feet to greet her. “Did you miss me?”

“The poker games upstairs sure did,” she said, a smile curling her lips. She set a pocket-sized cigarillo tin on the table before hugging him. Then she held him at arm’s length to look him over. “Your hair’s blonder on top. And you’re missing something.” She glanced down at his maimed hand.

“Gardening accident.”

Never one to believe his stories, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling before glancing at Hadley.

He placed a hand on Hadley’s chairback. “Velma Toussaint, this is Hadley Bacall, a curator at the de Young Museum. Hadley, this is Velma. She owns Gris-Gris.”

The women nodded at each other politely.

“Curious energy you’ve got there, dear,” Velma remarked.

Hadley’s eyes widened. She shifted in her seat as Velma looked askance at Lowe, as if asking for an explanation.

Not his place to tell Hadley’s secrets, so he just gave Velma a smile that was probably cockier than he intended. “Hadley knows why I’m here to see you. We’re working together, so she’ll be using the charm with me.”

“Well, then. Isn’t this interesting,” she said, keeping her eyes on Hadley as she flicked open the cigarillo tin’s lid. An herbal scent wafted out. Inside the slim box sat a glass vial and several small pouches made of red flannel, each about the size of a quarter. The tops were tied with white string. “Five mojo bags. They will keep your enemies away and give you protection from magical tracking spells, but only for a brief time. To activate a bag, you must feed it by anointing it with oil. A drop will do, right on the outside of the bag. Keep it in your pocket and don’t let anyone else touch it.”

“How long will the effects last?”

“Fifteen minutes, an hour. It’s hard to say. It’ll be strongest right when you feed it. Gradually wears off. One-time use only. When you’re done with it, you’ll need to throw it away at a crossroads. Any crossroads will do. Just toss it out of your car window if you’re in a hurry.”

“What’s inside them?” Hadley asked, sniffing the contents of the tin.

Velma shut the lid. “Herbs, charms. Innocuous ingredients. It’s the way they’re combined and prayed over that gives them power. And it’s the intent behind their deployment that makes them work. So while you feed a bag, if you have a specific enemy in mind to avoid, best to think hard about them. Understand?”

Hadley nodded.

“You’re a peach, Velma. How much do I owe you?”

“Just tell your sister-in-law to come see me. I’ve got a client who needs to have a word with their dead grandmother.” Velma slid the box toward Lowe and smiled as she took her leave from the table. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Lowe watched her depart as he stashed the tin in his inner suit pocket.

“Fascinating,” Hadley said.

“She is,” he agreed. “And now that we have some protection, we can begin searching for the third crossbar.”

Her reply was lost under a booming voice from the stage. The tuxedoed house band was taking its place to play their first set of the night. And as the drummer teased out a snappy rhythm, the clubgoers who’d been taking a breather at the bar now returned to the dance floor like ants infiltrating a picnic. Then the chords of “Bye, Bye, Blackbird” started up, and conversation became an impossibility.

He glanced at Hadley.

“Care to dance?” he said near her ear, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

She quickly shook her head and stiffened her posture. But curious eyes slid toward the dancers and a soft smile tilted her lips. She gave him a look that said “maybe.”

He pulled her to her feet and led her past tables to the crowded dance floor. And before she could change her mind, he gathered her close, one arm around her back, hands clasped, and swayed her into the crowd. A look of exhilaration swept over her features as they fell into step with ease. She was a good dancer, only looking at their feet long enough to catch the beat. He wasn’t sure why this surprised him. But he soon took advantage of it, swinging her around and laughing as she mouthed the song’s chorus along with the crooning singer on stage.

What an unexpected pleasure it was to watch her cheeks flush with excitement. He liked seeing her happy. It was infectious. They danced through another up-tempo song, and then he drew her closer for a Gershwin ballad. Closer still, holding her with both arms as she flattened her palms against his chest. He bowed his head to catch the scent of her hair and felt her breath tickling the skin between his ear and shirt collar. It made him dizzy with arousal and an aching, over-warm contentment.

“Take me home.”

He barely heard the words against his ear. Barely believed them. His breath came faster. Maybe he was giving them unintended meaning. Maybe she only wanted a repeat of the chair. Which, to be honest, he wouldn’t turn down in a hundred years, especially if they weren’t interrupted by her maid.