Page 9 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

Laissez les bons temps rouler, y’all!

Magnolia

Nothing quite beats riding in the car with your best friend, windows down, hair a tangled mess, as you both belt out song after song. And the ride to New Orleans with Jae was no different.

To say that we were excited for Halloween on Bourbon Street was an understatement.

We hadn’t been in years, and as she pulled into the parking lot in front of Crescent Witchery, both of us singing the final lines of Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’ at the top of our lungs—much to the chagrin of tourists passing by—we couldn’t help but laugh.

I’d missed this. Yes, I saw her every day at work. Yes, she spent more time at Bellevue Manor than at her apartment. But trips like these, where it was just us and we got to let loose and just be, were fewer and farther between the older we got.

“Do you think Mama Jo remembers me?” she whispered as the bell over the door chimed.

“O’course I remember you, chile. Who could forget a soul like yours?” Mama Jo exclaimed as she parted the beads that hung across the doorway leading to the shop’s back room.

Mama Jo was the kindest soul a person could meet in their lifetime and was a surrogate mom to everyone who walked into her store.

Her deep brown eyes shone with years of wisdom in the craft and life itself.

Her beautiful umber skin had permanent crinkles at the corners of her eyes and creases around her mouth from the radiant smile that was a constant fixture upon her lips.

She was sunshine incarnate, especially today.

A bright yellow scarf that matched her dress was wrapped around her brow, keeping her gorgeous salt and pepper curls out of her face. A delicate chime accompanied every step she took as the crystals worn around her neck clanked against each other.

“Mama Jo!” I cried happily, quickly closing the distance between us and wrapping her in my arms.

“Hi, baby. How’s my beautiful girl? Not getting into any trouble, are ya?”

“Not yet,” Jaelyn scoffed amusedly from behind me, searching through the various crystals on display.

“Now, now. Samhain is not a night to go lookin’ for trouble, ya hear?”

“Yes, Mama Jo,” we responded in unison, both of us curling our lips inward to suppress a laugh.

Mama Jo narrowed her eyes at us, her lips pursing as she raised an accusatory finger in my direction. “Magpie, don’t you go lookin’ for things you’re not prepared to deal with. I taught you better than that, and so did your Auntie.”

I grasped her hand in mine and gave her a gentle squeeze. Though Jae was oblivious to the implications Mama Jo was throwing my way, I wasn’t. “I promise we won’t go looking for trouble.”

She harrumphed in response, then shook her head. “Did your auntie send you with the supplies I asked for, or is this just a friendly visit?”

“Can’t it be both?” I teased before turning to my friend, “Jae, can you grab the boxes of lavender from the trunk for me?” With a nod, Jae headed for the door, and as it latched behind her, I turned back toward Jo.

“I added some of my own goodies to your order, and Aunt Evie put some tea blends in there and restocked your candles, too.”

Stars sparkled in her old brown eyes. “You girls are too good to me.”

“We’re not nearly good enough. You do so much for us, for the community, and for all of the local covens. It’s the least that we can do. But if you need anything—”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Good.”

“Now, before your friend comes back, I have something for you to keep you safe tonight.”

“You didn’t need to—”

“Shush, girl. The veil is thinner tonight; you need all the protection you can get. Even if it’s just from nasty men.”

“Mama Jo!”

“Baby, I may be old, but I’m not blind. And this is New Orleans,” she said, winking as she headed behind her counter and pulled out a decent-sized box.

“I have a few sage sticks to cleanse wherever you’re stayin’.

Can’t be too careful down here, ya’ know.

Lots of spirits wandering about, especially tonight.

Black candles, clear quartz, and black obsidian to put by the door for protection—plus two black tourmaline pendants—one for you and your friend. ”

With the size of the box, there was no way that was all that was in there. As I peered over the edge of the counter to look inside, my gasp was audible, and my eyes fell to a deep red candle at the bottom of the box. But as I reached for it, Mama Jo snapped the lid closed.

“What’s with the red candle, Mama Jo?” I teased, knowing full well that they were for.

“Get your head out of the gutter, chile! It’s for strength, courage, and action.”

“And sex.”

“Magnolia Bellevue!”

“Well, it is!” I laughed as her lips pursed, and she shook her head. “Come on, Mama Jo, I’m just teasing.”

She’d just opened her mouth to retort—likely tear me a new one—when the bell chimed over the door, a couple holding it open as Jaelyn entered with the boxes from the car.

“You’re lucky I’ve got customers, baby girl.” Though her tone was serious, the slight tilt at the corner of her mouth said she found the conversation just as amusing as I did. “Now give me a hug, and then git. I have work to do.”

Jae set the lavender on the counter as I boxed up the goodies from Mama Jo, her brows raised as she watched. “We doing a seance later or something?”

Laughing, I shook my head and rounded the counter to loop my arm with hers. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

It didn’t matter how cold it got in Louisiana in October. Pack a few hundred people onto one street, decked to the nines in costumes, throw in some alcohol, and you’ve got all the makings of a sauna.

Music filtered out into the street from every bar.

From pop and country to jazz, each of them added to the cacophony that was Bourbon Street.

Sweat trickled down my back as I tightened my grip on Jaelyn’s hand and wove my way through the throng of people, all while I attempted to avoid the puddles of unknown liquid on the ground.

People stood on balconies, hollering down at passersby to show something to get beads that most of the hosts of those suites supplied.

Was it Mardi Gras? No, not even close. But did that stop people from yelling, “Throw me something, mister”, while raising their shirts in public? Also, no.

Welcome to Bourbon Street.

It’s amazing how my brain blocked out this particular part of this holiday adventure.

All I ever reminisced on was the fun time we had—the music, the dancing.

But the heat from bodies pressed together and the sticky feeling of one too many drinks being sloshed onto my person as we made our way through anywhere somehow vanished from memory when the opportunity to repeat it appeared.

“Where are we going?!” Jae hollered above the chaos.

“Oz!” I yelled over my shoulder. “Just gotta find the yellow brick road.”

Even though her laughter disappeared into the sounds around us, her head was thrown back, her hand flying to her stomach as her eyes crinkled at the edges.

When we finally made it past the sea of bodies and spotted our destination, my heart sank. The line to get in wrapped down the street. I figured that it would be busy since they did drag shows on Saturdays, and it was Halloween… but this was insane.

“I really don’t want to wait in that line,” Jaelyn whined next to me, her excitement dimming as we watched the line move a fraction of an inch.

“Purple Drank?” I asked, my brows winging up as I tilted my head toward the bar down the road.

“Oh, you want to get that kind of drunk tonight.”

“We didn’t stop at any bar on the way here. Not even one of the however-many-there-are Tropical Isles. Come on, one or two won’t hurt.”

Lie. That was a bold-faced lie, and we both knew it. The “Purple Drank” from Lafitte’s knocked everyone on their ass. It tasted like a damn grape Sno-ball, and you couldn’t taste the copious amounts of liquor in it either. But it was frozen, and I was hot, so it sounded like a solid plan to me.

With a shrug, Jae extended her arm out toward the bar and quirked a brow as she said, “Go big or go home, I guess.”

Taylor

When Addy told me she needed me to take her to New Orleans for her dress fitting, I hadn’t expected to be roped into staying for the night so that she could go to Bourbon Street and indulge in the drunken festivities.

She’d even packed costumes, for god’s sake, and her fiancé, Colin, just happened to be in the hotel suite when we walked in.

“Come on, Tay, it will be fun! Loosen up!” she’d yelled when my deadpan expression hadn’t changed since we walked into the bar.

The lights were blinding, the music blaring, and I was pretty sure there were too many people in there to be under fire code.

“Come on, man. Hang up the stethoscope for a night and have fun,” Colin said as he pushed some kind of shot into one hand and a weirdly colored concoction into the other. “Bottoms up!”

I eyed the shot for a second, then sniffed; my stomach clenched on instinct as the smell of cinnamon liquor burned my nose. Grimacing, I met the blue-green eyes of my sister, who smirked and held up her own tiny glass in salute. “When in Rome, I guess.”

Addy’s whoop of excitement was barely audible over the crowd and music.

We clinked our plastic glasses together, tapped them on the high-top table we’d miraculously found empty, and raised them to our lips.

The cinnamon whiskey burned on the way down, but whatever was in the cup Colin had given me cut the taste and replaced it with something sickly sweet.

“What the fuck is this?” I yelled, my nose scrunching as I ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth in an attempt to dispel the taste.

“Not sure,” he shrugged, his eyes glassy as he sipped from his own cup, “It’s some special for Halloween. Just keep drinking; it gets better.”