Page 11 of Spicy Little Curses (Scared Sexy Collection #3)
Ten
Dax
City of Bones
I knew I was on the right track with the witches theory, because not only were my tattoos writhing and that weird whispering that sounded as if it rose from a cavern deep in the earth filled with trapped souls had started again, but the tattoo of Petra’s name on my wrist had begun to bleed.
I had a suspicion that if I removed the bandage and looked, it wouldn’t be red like normal blood, but black.
The Camaro’s headlights cut through the thick fog curling over the cracked pavement as we pulled up to the wrought iron gates of St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. I killed the engine, my grip tightening on the wheel as unnatural heat spread under the bandage.
That wasn’t a good sign.
Neither was Petra’s silence. She sat rigid and tight lipped in her seat, staring out the passenger window at the cemetery gates.
I opened the door and stepped out. Petra followed. After a tense moment, she said, “Okay, let’s go desecrate a grave.”
“We’re not going to desecrate anything. We’re just looking for a clue that might’ve been left behind that will help us.”
“A little holy water would come in handy,” she muttered, eyeing the arched entrance of the gate, where the words Requiescat in Pace were etched into the stone.
Rest in peace.
Something told me that no one here was resting.
The cemetery was a city of the dead. Narrow pathways were crowded with aboveground tombs that stretched tall like miniature high-rise mausoleums. The moonlight cast long shadows, lending light for us to see but also making it easy for anything to be lurking just beyond our sight.
Petra didn’t object when I clasped her hand and held it as I led her through the graveyard. She just cradled her injured wrist against her chest, the tension of her body palpable. The lanes of the cemetery were claustrophobic, so narrow and tightly packed with crypts, it was almost suffocating.
Finally, we found the tomb of Marie Laveau.
Covered in markings and scrawled triple X ’s that were discouraged by the archdiocese but were believed to bring good luck by patrons, the narrow white crypt glowed under the moonlight.
The base of the tomb was littered with offerings of coins and small bottles of rum, beads, and trinkets, and lit candles that swayed eerily in the thick, unmoving air.
A few bloodied handkerchiefs lay among them.
“This is it,” I murmured, keeping my voice respectfully low. I wouldn’t say it aloud, but I could feel the presence of spirits watching us.
Petra exhaled, looking around. “Now what?”
I looked at her closely, wondering if she could feel what I did. If so, she gave no indication. “You tell me.”
She looked up at the mist-shrouded moon and sighed. Closing her eyes briefly, she muttered, “Here goes nothing,” then spread her hands in front of her and addressed the tomb. “Open sesame!”
“Petra,” I snapped, mystified by her nonchalance. “This isn’t a joke!”
“It’s my life that’s on the line, Sunshine.”
“Exactly!”
“No, I meant it’s my life—oh, never mind.”
Muttering something unflattering about my sense of humor, she stepped forward and pressed her hands against the side of the tomb, bracing her arms and dropping her head in defeat.
The change was immediate.
A deep rumble vibrated through the ground. The stone beneath our feet shuddered. The temperature dropped by at least twenty degrees. Then the tomb groaned as if something inside had awakened, and the heavy stone door cracked open with a grating scrape.
Petra leaped back with a yelp of surprise. She looked at her palms, at the smudged, bloodied handprints she’d left on the side of the tomb, and said, “What in the hell ?”
So it was true, what Celeste Leclair had said. Blood magic ran in Petra’s veins.
It figured I’d fall for a witch. My taste in women always ran toward the feral ones.
Peering into the darkness beyond the tomb’s door, I said, “I’m about to find out.”
I stepped forward and pushed against the door. It resisted for a moment, then yielded. I had to shove hard to get it wide enough to pass through.
Beyond, the blackness was total. It even swallowed the moonlight whole. The scent of incense wafted to my nose, and something indefinable came with it, something bitter and potent, an earthy, almost animal smell that hinted at dangerous powers.
Old magic.
Petra whispered, “Holy. Shit.”
“Thought you knew all the big words, Notebook.”
“I do. Those were more appropriate for the occasion.”
When she stepped forward, attempting to brush past me and enter the tomb, I stopped her with an arm held out in front of her body and a warning glare.
“Oh, no. This isn’t the time for you to remember your manners.”
“You’re not going down there. It could be dangerous.”
She smiled sweetly at me. “Sure, because staying up here alone in the middle of a cemetery around midnight with a supernatural curse collector on my tail is so safe.”
Ducking under my arm, she went ahead of me into the crypt and instantly disappeared into darkness.