Page 2

Chapter Two

E tienne 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.

“Does this spell use alcohol?” Jocko asked hopefully as my mother and Violet gathered the ingredients for the spell and set them on the counter. They quietly conferred, ignoring the rest of us.

“Mally, cher , I don’t suppose you feel up to pour me a little drinky-poo?” Jocko said once he realized he wasn’t going to get a response from the other two witches. He eyed a bottle of cooking sherry near his bowl.

I ignored him too as I slid onto a barstool at the island. Etienne

He made a noise of frustration, followed by the sound of bubbles. I didn’t even have to glance at the fishbowl to know what he was doing. He’d gone underwater to pout. Good place for him.

“Okay, we’ve got everything,” Mom said with a nod.

“Is this going to hurt?” I asked, trying to see what they had laid out on the countertop. “Or make me puke?”

“I can guarantee no pain, but I can’t take puking off the table,” Violet said with a regretful look.

Mom focused on adding a concoction of herbs in her well-worn mortar.

She used her pestle to grind the dried leaves and flowers together.

Then she added some sort of oily liquid.

And something that smelled so awful, I threatened to gag.

But quickly, the smell seemed to grow less noxious and became almost pleasant.

Then the oven timer dinged.

I rose up slightly off the barstool to get a better look at the magical mixture. “Does it have to be blended an exact amount of time?”

Mom frowned, her pestle pausing. “No, why?”

“The timer,” I bobbed my head toward the oven.

“Oh. No. That’s just my bread pudding.” She dropped the pestle in the mortar and hurried to the oven. She pulled open the door, and the smoky scent of burnt bread joined the other smells of the kitchen.

Tristan graciously suppressed a cough.

I groaned quietly and whispered, “Pray for us.”

Etienne masked his laugh with a cough of his own. I fought a giggle. Violet and JR both shot us warning looks

Mom plunked the pan on the stove top. Clearly, we hadn’t covered out amusement well enough.

She turned and fixed us with a stern look, her hands clasped together in front of her like a disapproving school marm.

Although my mother was a stunningly beautiful blonde—so she looked more like a disapproving angel.

“Alright. Time for the grown-ups to take over,” Violet said, clearly trying to score points after Mom hearing her earlier comment about her cooking.

“Since when did you become the grown-up?” I asked.

“Neither of you sound like grown-ups to me,” Mom said, nudging Violet out of the way to return to her mortar and pestle. She gave the herbs a couple more stabs, then looked around at ingredients she had laid out.

“Darn it,” she finally said. “I used all my dried rosemary in the shrimp creole. And fresh rosemary doesn’t work as well for this spell.”

My stomach lurched at the mere mention of her dinner offering. Welp, there was another meal checked off my list of favorites.

“I think I have some.” Violet unzipped a crossbody bag she still wore since her abrupt arrival.

She started rooting through the small purse.

She pulled out a lipstick, a compact mirror, and a small change purse.

Following those expected items, she dug out three bottles of hand sanitizer.

in there, plus a harmonica and what looks like a tiny cauldron.

“What are you going to do, disinfect me to death?” I asked, reaching across the island to inspect one of the bottles.

“It’s a habit of working in medicine,” she stated, then began pulling out more items. A harmonica and small cast iron cauldron.

I blinked. “But why a harmonica?”

Violet shrugged. “You never know.”

Finally, she produced a sprig of rosemary stored in a plastic baggie. She handed it to Mom, and we all watched as she laid the dried twig on a plate and drizzled the oily herb and flower mixture of it. Then Mom and Violet joined hands and said an incantation of the whole mess.

Mom nodded. “It’s ready.”

Violet pinched the sprig between her forefinger and thumb and came around the island toward me.

“I don’t have to eat that, do I?”

She shook her head, then waved the drippy twig over my head. “Just sit still. This’ll just take a sec.”

Etienne stood behind me, hands on my shoulders, steadying me as if he thought levitation was a possibility as Jocko had suggested.

“Is it safe?” he whispered, as if speaking louder would ruin the spell.

“It’s a diagnostic,” Violet said. “Think of it as a magical blood test, only with less needles and more jazz hands.”

I winced as a drop of the oily mashed mess splattered on the top of my head. “Will it make me feel better?”

She shrugged. “No promises. But it should let us know what this magic around you is.”

I felt more oil drip on my head. “I hope so.”

She closed her eyes and chanted something that sounds like a line from a Cajun lullaby.

In my peripheral vision, I saw a purple glow.

I knew it was Violet’s magic working with the spell.

The soft glow was not enough to light up the room, but definitely enough to make Jocko’s shell shimmer like a disco ball.

He popped up from under the water and basked in the light. “Look at me! I am beautiful!”

“Shut up, crustacean,” Violet said, and then fixed her full focus on me.

The magic felt like a cold drizzling rain splashing over me, starting at my temples.

Or maybe it was just the herby oil running down my face.

Then a tingle, like the moment just before you sneeze, hit me.

Except all over and all at once. I wanted to move or maybe scream, but instead I just sat there, shuddering, while Etienne’s thumbs pressed gentle circles against my neck.

Then it was over. Violet’s eyes snapped open, and she fell heavily onto the stool next to me.

“What the—” she started, then cut herself off. She gaped at me, then at Etienne, then at me again, blinking so fast it was a miracle she didn’t take flight.

“Okay. That was unexpected.” She grabbed a kitchen towel from the island and wiped her palms as if she’d just handled a live wire.

Etienne’s voice was soft and very, very nervous. “What is wrong with her?”

Violet chewed her bottom lip. “Well, it’s not food poisoning. Or a hex. It’s more like…” she trailed off, searching for a word, then blurted, “Mally, you are pregnant.”

The room did that strange, surreal thing where time splits. Half of me was frozen in place, hearing the sentence echo off the hardwood floors and mahogany cabinets, while the other half of me is already floating upward, the queasy swirl replaced by a high, thin dizziness.

“P-pregnant?” Etienne repeated, his accent stretching the word like taffy.

I looked over my shoulder at him, then down at my own body, which has not changed at all except maybe to go back to a slightly shade of green.

“Are you sure?” I asked Violet, my voice barely above a whisper.

Violet nodded her head, her eyes are huge and bright. “Unless you’ve eaten something that is now living inside you, then yeah. That’s a baby in there.”

Etienne was laughing and crying at the same time, which is new, but weirdly adorable. He lifted me off the stool and spun me in a circle, which was probably a very dangerous thing to do given my already green pallor. But honestly feels, for a second, like the best ride at Six Flags.

When he finally set me down, his hands cupped my face, and he was grinning so wide, I almost forgot any nausea. “We’re having a baby, chérie,” he said.

“A baby?” I said, dumbly, and immediately regret it. “But—how? I mean, yes, I know how, but—didn’t we?—?”

Violet cut in, “Contraceptive magic only foolproof if both parties are from the same taxonomic kingdom. Which, fun fact, you two are not.”

Jocko shook his head. “Should’ve read the warning label, mon petit.”

I placed my hand on my stomach, as if expecting a drumroll, or maybe a tiny kick, but there’s only the familiar churning of—morning sickness? “Is it normal to feel this sick?”

Violet’s voice is gentle now, healer-mode in full effect. “It’s not normal. But you’re not normal. Your body’s basically a cauldron of fairy, witch, and werewolf genes. That’s a lot of enzymes. I wouldn’t be surprised if your kid comes out so magical he or she glows in the dark.”

Etienne’s whole face shone. “It will be the most beautiful child in all of New Orleans.”

Jocko snorts. “And

I’m felt tears begin to rain down my cheeks, which is mortifying, but I knew I was crying out of joy. Etienne held me close, and Mom came around the island to put her hand on my back. Even Jocko was quiet, watching us with his weird little bug eyes.

“You’re not mad?” I asked Etienne, voice muffled against his shirt. “We didn’t plan for this.”

“Mad?” he said, incredulous. “Chérie, I have never been happier in all my days. Not since meeting you. Not since Hugo and Lisette came into the world. This—this is a miracle.”

Violet wiped her eyes and sniffed, then grinned. “I always wanted to be an aunt.”

Tristan moved to place an arm around his emotional wife, although he beamed with happiness. “And I can’t wait to be an uncle again.”

“Better start learning to knit,” my mom said. “But this grandbaby is not calling me Granny.”

JR came over from where he’d been quietly watching. “This is the very best news.” He slipped an arm around my mom. “We cannot wait to meet our amazing grandchild. Right, Granny?”

My mom playfully elbowed him. He chuckled merrily and left Mom to materialize a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator. He raised it in the air. “This calls for a toast.”

JR popped the cork with great flourish and poured five glasses. And a thimble of whiskey for Jocko. Etienne got me a fresh glass of ice water.

Mom raised her glass. “To Mally, Etienne and the newest impending member of our wonderful family. This baby will be something so, so special.”

We clinked. I swallowed, feeling complete joy replace my nausea.

“A Rougarou, witch and fey baby,” Violet said, shaking her head with bemusement. “I’m sure there is no baby ever born with that lineage.”

That was true. What would a baby with all those different kinds of magic be like? A bit of nausea returned. Would the baby be okay?

I must have started turning green again, because Etienne gently pulled me back against him, his tall, muscular frame surrounding me instantly making me feel better.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded, feeling better. Well, a little better.

I raised my ice water, and said with more confidence than I was feeling, “To the weirdest, wildest baby in Louisiana.”

Everyone cheered.

I just hoped the baby wouldn’t be too weird.