Magnus Blackwell's past is about to catch up with him.
An evil force has seized New Orleans. Pestilence, suffering, and darkness cloak the city. The citizens are scared and need their mambo to guide them, but Lexie Arden can't help anyone. A diabolical presence has taken Lexie's power and severed her ties with the other side.
Magnus Blackwell is fighting demons of his own. Torn between his devotion to Lexie and a spirit from his past, Magnus's loyalty is put to the test. He must revisit his sins to uncover the key to the hatred ripping the city apart. If he doesn't, Lexie's reign as mambo will end.
Their search for answers leads them deep into the darker realms of voodoo—until a desperate Lexie does the unthinkable, and Magnus can do nothing to spare her from her fate.
Magnus Blackwell's past is about to catch up with him.
An evil force has seized New Orleans. Pestilence, suffering, and darkness cloak the city. The citizens are scared and need their mambo to guide them, but Lexie Arden can't help anyone. A diabolical presence has taken Lexie's power and severed her ties with the other side.
Magnus Blackwell is fighting demons of his own. Torn between his devotion to Lexie and a spirit from his past, Magnus's loyalty is put to the test. He must revisit his sins to uncover the key to the hatred ripping the city apart. If he doesn't, Lexie's reign as mambo will end.
Their search for answers leads them deep into the darker realms of voodoo—until a desperate Lexie does the unthinkable, and Magnus can do nothing to spare her from her fate.
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Overview
Magnus Blackwell's past is about to catch up with him.
An evil force has seized New Orleans. Pestilence, suffering, and darkness cloak the city. The citizens are scared and need their mambo to guide them, but Lexie Arden can't help anyone. A diabolical presence has taken Lexie's power and severed her ties with the other side.
Magnus Blackwell is fighting demons of his own. Torn between his devotion to Lexie and a spirit from his past, Magnus's loyalty is put to the test. He must revisit his sins to uncover the key to the hatred ripping the city apart. If he doesn't, Lexie's reign as mambo will end.
Their search for answers leads them deep into the darker realms of voodoo—until a desperate Lexie does the unthinkable, and Magnus can do nothing to spare her from her fate.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781944109622 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Vesuvian Books |
| Publication date: | 04/01/2018 |
| Series: | Magnus Blackwell , #3 |
| Sold by: | INDEPENDENT PUB GROUP - EPUB - EBKS |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 359 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
A hard, steady rain blurred Lexie's view out the window. She shifted in her seat, silently cursing her uncomfortable wooden bench. She wanted to get the hell out of there. Hospitals held too many bad memories of ER visits and the horrible day her father had died.
She peered down at the long, marble-colored cane in her hand, her fingers running over the fire-breathing head of a dragon carved into its handle. Warmth radiated through her bones. The pearl changeling stones in the cane's eyes glowed in the hazy fluorescent lights, soothing her jittery nerves.
A nurse walked out of room 802. "She's ready, Mrs. Bennett." She examined Lexie's long white dress and red turban. "Keep your visit short, please. Too much stimulation tires her out."
Lexie opened the heavy hospital door.
Daylight filtered through closed, short curtains along the far wall. A steady, slow beeping kept time with a green glowing monitor above the bed. The squiggly lines rolling across the screen meant nothing to Lexie except to tell her the person she came to see was still alive. Several bags hung from an IV pole next to the bed, amplifying her distress. She slipped into the oversized vinyl chair set at the unconscious woman's bedside, questioning if she should have come at all.
"Do I know you?" The woman's smoky voice surprised her.
"I'm glad you're awake." Lexie forced a smile.
The woman's white hair neatly piled atop her head, coffee-colored skin, and sharp, uncanny blue eyes had Lexie thinking the old bird looked pretty good for someone knocking on death's door.
"Your son asked me to come, Mrs. Braud." Lexie's grip tightened on her magical baton juju, reassuringly rubbing her thumb along the dragon's snout. "He said you wished to speak to your spiritual leader."
Mrs. Braud raised her eyebrows. "You're the new mambo?"
Lexie gritted her teeth. She'd been asked the same question many times since assuming her role. She didn't understand. She'd found her calling, fulfilled her purpose in life, and discovered a passion that made her soul sing. Why didn't everyone else see it, too?
"I can assure you I was appointed by the Queen to oversee —"
"I know what you are, but it's not who you are." Mrs. Braud placed her willowy hands over the white sheet covering her lap. "You have not taken the title into your heart."
Lexie leaned back in the chair, reminding herself not to start a confrontation with the frail woman. "I am mambo in words and deeds. I've come, according to custom, to make you ready for the great journey."
A slight smile crossed her pale lips. "I know where I'm going. Do you?"
Lexie's frustration nibbled at her. "I'm not sure why your son asked me to —"
Mrs. Braud coughed, winced, and held her hand against her chest. "When you're at the end of life, some things become very clear." Her voice became melancholy as she reclined on her pillow. "You haven't crossed the bridge to death. For people like me such understanding only comes with death, but for you ... well, you're special. You must live in both worlds — the light and the dark. Are you ready to do that, Lexie Arden?"
Lexie fumbled with the cane in her hand, unsure of how to answer. "My last name is Bennett, Mrs. Braud, and I can assure you I do reside in both worlds. More than you can possibly imagine."
"Are you speaking of me, dear girl?"
A light flashed, and a man with broad shoulders, dressed in a sharp black coat and a vibrant red vest appeared by her side.
Magnus Blackwell cut a handsome figure, even if he was a ghost.
She glanced at him briefly before focusing again on Mrs. Braud. Magnus was her spirit guide and never far from her side. At times, she found his constant presence annoying. Then there were moments, like this one, when the sight of his vivid green eyes set her mind at ease.
"It seems I'm in constant communication with the darkness."
A playful smirk spread across Magnus's thin lips. He pressed his hand to his chest. "Darkness? Me?"
Mrs. Braud looked over her ghost with fleeting interest. "You speak with the dead. Everyone has heard of your gift. But there's more to being a mambo than calling to the departed."
Lexie gripped her cane as she summoned her strength to stand. She didn't need this crap. Not today.
Magnus held up his hand to her, calling for calm. "Don't give credence to what she says. She's not well."
She smoothed out her features and sat back in her chair. The cane vibrated, reinforcing her tranquility.
"I have worked with many people who needed me in the city. My position is to guide and encourage others. To be a spiritual leader and advisor."
Pain riddled Mrs. Braud's face, and she sucked in a labored breath. "Noble words, but you haven't done what the spirits want. They're your true masters. You must listen to them because soon they will demand your attention."
Lexie's cheeks flushed. "Which spirits are you talking about?"
"What did I say about calm?" Magnus arched an eyebrow. "You look like you're about to explode."
Mrs. Braud closed her eyes. "You should listen to your Mr. Blackwell."
Lexie inched closer to the bed. "You can see him?"
"I see all the dead." Her voice grew dark, husky, drawing Lexie in.
She shook her head and concentrated on the task at hand. "Why did you ask for me, Mrs. Braud?"
The white sheets covering her quivered with her rapid breathing.
"The spirits have a message, Mambo. Prepare. The darkness wants you." Right after the words left her lips, Mrs. Braud relaxed.
The monitor's constant beep slowed. Lexie reached out to touch her arm while the older woman peacefully slept.
The door flew open.
"You should go now." The nurse stood framed by the light in the hallway. "She's had enough activity for one morning."
Lexie glanced at Magnus. He nodded and then disappeared.
In the hallway, Lexie approached the nurse. "Thank you for letting me see her."
"I hope you weren't too disappointed." She clicked her pen and wrote something on the chart in her hand. "Mrs. Braud hasn't responded to anyone."
Lexie stumbled forward but caught herself. "What are you talking about?"
The woman glanced up. "The tumor in her brain. She's been in a coma for over a week now. The doctors say she doesn't have long, but still, it's a difficult process to watch. Were you good friends?"
Lexie stifled her shock. "Ah, no. Her son asked me to visit as a spiritual advisor."
The nurse glimpsed the cane in her hand. "I see."
Hushed whispers erupted from the other nurses working on the hospital floor as they took in Lexie's dress, turban, and baton juju.
"Thank you for helping me," she mumbled and rushed to the elevators at the end of the hall.
She breathed easier when she made it to the grand lobby. A glass and steel homage to the modern skyscraper, it had crisscrossing metal bars set into monstrous two-story glass windows overlooking Prytania Street.
Doctors in long white coats darted around her as visitors and hospital staff bustled in and out of the lobby. Lexie's hurried footsteps carried her across the white-tiled floor and past rows of plastic bucket chairs and uncomfortable couches.
God, she hated this place.
Steps away from exiting the hospital, Magnus reappeared.
"You're angry." He tapped his ghostly dragon cane on the floor, but it made no sound. "You can't be surprised by what occurred."
Lexie glanced around, making sure no one was near. "I don't have a problem with her being in a coma. But what did she mean by the darkness wants me? I thought I already belonged to the darkness." She held up her cane. "Isn't that what this is for?"
"Do not be so upset by the ramblings of a dying woman. You came to see her. You've fulfilled your duty and done a great service."
"My duty? Which is what?" Her insecurity rocketed to life. "For months, I've struggled with being mambo. I thought once I held the baton juju, everything would fall into place. Shit like this makes me feel like I've made no progress at all."
"Language, please." Magnus motioned for her to head toward the doors.
She stopped at the wall of windows lining the front entrance. The rain had let up, turning into a light drizzle, but her despair had not receded with the storm. She'd pushed for months to make herself heard among the citizens of New Orleans, but despite her efforts, she still felt like an interior designer from Boston in over her head. She wanted nothing more than to share her gift and to fulfill her ardent desire to be a guiding light to others.
Magnus stood next to her. "It takes determination and courage to win over those you must lead. They will believe in you in time."
She rested her head against the glass. "That's the problem. No one believes in me. Emile Glapion can't get anyone at the NOPD to work with me. I've got some steady clients and the trust of a handful of priestesses, but no one else."
* * *
Her teary blue eyes gutted Magnus, but the doubts she harbored, words would never soothe. He understood her misgivings. In the beginning, hope drove them. But as the doors of other voodoo practitioners closed to them, their enthusiasm waned.
"You're trying too hard. Sometimes people will only see the truth when they're ready."
She sniffled and retrieved her keys from her purse. "People can be a real pain in the ass."
He gave her a cruel grin. "There's the Lexie I know. I'll see you back at the shop.",
She dashed into the rain and across the parking lot. He watched her go, entertained by her zigzagging course, attempting to dodge puddles.
He regretted keeping what he'd sensed from her. The shadowy disturbance came over him the moment they had set foot in the hospital. It tainted the air like a sour mist soaked with unhappy souls. Mrs. Braud's comments had unsettled him, and he didn't want to add to Lexie's anxiety about the strange meeting.
But the darkness was there — and it had made its intentions known.
Something bad is coming.
Magnus clenched his cane and disappeared.
* * *
Tourists clogging Royal Street jostled Lexie as she walked along the uneven sidewalk. The clip-clop of horse-drawn carriages, the roar of traffic, and the peppery scent of Cajun food wafted through the air. When she stood below her red Mambo Manor sign, she smiled with pride.
She considered her little shop the personification of her role, announcing to all the world she'd embraced her sacred charge with gusto. But despite her efforts, no one seemed to understand how much her work meant to her. Her driving passion for using her gift for good felt satiated the moment the Queen had placed the coveted baton juju in her hands. Would they ever see her as anything more than an oddity?
With a firm hold of her cane, she opened the door and went inside. The hint of burning sage tickled her nose. Glass shelves covered the white plaster walls filled with an assortment of bells, drums, shrunken plastic heads, incense burners, and a plethora of voodoo dolls. Display cases alongside a wooden counter held silver jewelry and gemstones of clear quartz, moonstone, citrine, green aventurine, amethyst, and rose quartz for divination and spellcasting. A high wall of bookcases to the right offered a wide selection of references on voodoo and magic. A few individuals perused her titles, making her glad she'd insisted on carrying the books to educate the public about her religion.
She stepped onto the shop floor, and a jazzy tune filtered through the speakers built into the roughhewn beamed ceiling. A balmy, early fall breeze blew through the open door, rustling a rack of T-shirts touting various mottos associated with New Orleans.
"Mrs. Favaro is already waiting for you in the workshop." A petite young woman came up to her.
In a matching white dress, her shop assistant, Nina, helped Lexie with the day-to-day management of her store.
"Thank you." Lexie inspected Nina's smooth café au lait skin. "Everything okay while I was gone?"
"Your next appointment rescheduled, and I got confirmations from the three other clients you have spirit sessions with later this afternoon. The phone hasn't stopped ringing. Everyone wants to meet the new mambo."
Lexie sighed as Mrs. Braud's words came back to her. "I'm nothing more than another French Quarter attraction."
Nina folded her arms; her stunning chocolate brown eyes steeped with curiosity. "You're hardly that. Marie Laveau knew what she was doing when she picked you."
"Thanks, Nina. You always make me feel better."
She nudged Lexie's arm. "Isn't that what you pay me for?"
"Excuse me." A woman with orange hair came up to Lexie, holding out a shot glass. "What is this symbol?"
Lexie examined the half-circle marked with crosses through it and etched in black on the side of the glass. "It represents one of the spirits or loa in voodoo. Each guard a realm in our world. The glass you're holding represents Kalfu, the god of death and chaos."
"Harvey!" the woman called across the shop to a man in Bermuda shorts. "We need to buy a set of these for your sister. She's into the occult, isn't she?"
Nina winked at Lexie and stepped in to help the woman select more shot glasses from the display.
Lexie admired Nina's swift handling of the customer. The young woman strangely appeared one rainy evening shortly after she'd opened her store. Lightning had ripped across the sky, and a second later, Nina arrived. Lexie took it as an omen.
She snuck behind a red door in the corner of the shop with Private painted in gold across the front. Crystal sconces lined the long, narrow hall, which led to the rear of the building. She passed a storage room, piled high with boxes and used to keep the inventory for the store.
Lexie pushed on through the claustrophobic corridor until she arrived in a small kitchen with white cabinets, an uneven stone floor and french doors opening on to a courtyard. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee called to her, but she eased through the doors, anxious to get to her appointment.
Shards of light from the afternoon sun stretched across the weathered cement of the courtyard and caught in the small pond, shooting sparkles across the murky water. Along the high bricked walls surrounding her, banana trees, potted hibiscus, and a few fat ferns offered a tropical paradise in the heart of the city.
Out of nowhere, a flash of gray sprinted across the courtyard to the ledge on the pond.
Lexie put her hand on her chest, frightened by the intruder. "Don't you have a home?"
A gray Maine coon cat sat on the edge of the pond, inspecting her. It's green eyes flickered, and the tip of its fluffy tail thumped in a steady rhythm. Then it leapt from the ledge and disappeared into the shadows.
She headed to the corner of the courtyard where a rusted tin potter's shed waited beneath the shade of a single-story yellow carriage house. Her husband, Will, had insisted on converting it into a workshop or atelier for her client meetings. Lexie was grateful he had gone to the trouble. She'd witnessed many wonders inside the small shed, and she questioned if today's session with Gus Favaro's widow would offer her another glimpse into the world of the dead.
She paused at the plywood door as images of Mrs. Braud popped into her head. The woman's words circled her mind like a persistent vulture.
"What else do the spirits want from me?"
Shaking off the strange encounter, she took a deep breath and focused. It was time to get to work.
* * *
The flickering white candle in the center of the wooden worktable rocked and swerved. Lexie waited for a sign from the spirits, but nothing came. She searched the rows of wooden shelves, crammed with books and potted plants, and an ache of confusion lodged in her gut. The air smelled of basil, thyme, and sage, but there was no aroma of smoke, cologne, or anything else supernatural. No charge of electricity and nothing to indicate a spirit manifested in the room. The room seemed peaceful and not the hub of spiritual activity she'd seen in the past.
Why can't I detect anyone?
A woman across the workbench from her in a blue Chanel dress clutched her Louis Vuitton purse to her chest. Her upswept golden hair complimented her red lips. Her small brown eyes remained glued on Lexie.
"Are you getting something?"
Lexie flashed a tolerant smile. "Not yet, Mrs. Favaro."
Her full lips thinned to a straight line. "You're my last hope, Mambo. Detective Glapion's search for clues has run dry. He hoped you could give me an explanation about my poor Gus's death."
Magnus stood behind her client. His gaze reflected the question rolling around in her head — Why can't I sense anything?
"Let me try again."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Bound"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Alexandrea Weis and Lucas Astor.
Excerpted by permission of Vesuvian Books.
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