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Violet ignored him. “I don’t think it’s anything dangerous. Do you want me to conjure an emetic or just call it a day with some ginger tea?”

“Neither,” I said, trying to shift upright but only managing to slosh a bit of water on my mother’s decorative pillow. “Just let me die in peace. Or at least with dignity.”

Etienne stroked my hand, his big and warm and steady. “Are you sure that’s all you can do for her?”

My husband could be a major mother hen. Which admittedly could be pretty hot. Who knew?

`Violet poised her open palms over me again, this time staying there longer. She pursed her lips. “This isn’t food poisoning. It feels very magical.”

I grimaced at her. “Magical? What does that mean?”

“Maybe a hex,” Violet said, in a tone that made me nervous.

“A hex?” my mother exclaimed, not reassuring me in the least.

“Merde,” Jocko said slowly. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Chapter Two

Etienne and I exchanged a look, and for the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes.

I immediately shook my head. “It’s not a hex.”

I sounded far more certain than I felt about my assertion. If anyone was going to get a hex cast on them, it was probably me. I had a few enemies. And my first thought was Etienne’s legitimately crazy ex-wife. She’d kidnapped me once. So a hex didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility.

“You really think someone did this to me?” I asked.

Violet shrugged. “It’s not impossible. I mean, I can feel some crazy magic all around you. And that kind of turbulent magic could make you feel sick. Look at you. Even your freckles turned green.”

“I have freckles?” That surprised me more than the possibility of active witchcraft. I guess I should have expected them now that I spent my days galavanting around the bayou.

Jocko laughed so hard he nearly toppled over his bowl. “She never looks in mirror, only at her man. Bah!”

We all ignored him.

“Can you do anything to diagnose if it’s a hex or not?” Etienne asked, looking between Violet and my mother. It stung my ego a little that he didn’t look toward me. I mean, it was valid to look to them. My magic was still very unpredictable, but I was a witch too. And getting better at my magic. Sometimes.

“We can do a spell that should tell what kind of magic it is,” Violet said. “Then we can probably figure out what is going on.”

“I have everything we will need,” my mother said, waving for them to follow.

Jocko raised both claws in triumph. “To the kitchen! Where the real danger waits!”

Violet snorted—after mom left the room. She scooped up the fishbowl. “You want in on the tea, tough guy?”

“I’ll take mine with whiskey.” Jocko winked.

Etienne helped me upright, one arm around my shoulders, careful not to squeeze too tight. “What if it is magical, Mally?” he whispered, just for me. “I’m worried someone might be trying to hurt you?”

I looked at him, this beautiful, caring man who took a chance on marrying a witch—and a disastrous one at that. “If someone is trying to hex me,” I said, “they should be scared. They don’t know the power of my own magic. Of course, neither do I.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t mess with you. And we will face them together.”

He meant it. I knew he would protect me with his life.

“All of us will face them,” Tristan added, speaking for the first time. He was the often-quiet brother. Mainly because he was frequently being approached by ghosts, so that had to be a bit distracting. But I knew he meant what he just said as well. All of Etienne’s brothers would protect me.

As we entered the kitchen, I realized that most of my nausea had passed. Which was good because the room still smelled of Mom’s culinary escapades.