Chapter 4
4
ESME
T he following morning, I strode into a place called Ancient Magicks with more confidence than I actually felt, the bell on the door jingling cheerfully as I pushed it open. The rich, earthy scent of herbs and incense enveloped me immediately, and free-standing shelves packed with colorful jars, mystical tomes, and occult trinkets lined the walls. And, of course, plastic beads.
"Hello?" My skin prickled as magical fingers felt me up in a familiar way, and even though they felt young and inexperienced, I quickly strengthened the shield hiding my own power. The intrusion didn't surprise me. The shop had "Magick" in the name, after all. And from what I'd learned in the short time I'd been here, the Quarter was full of supernatural energy like this.
I almost turned around and left. What I needed was powerful magic, not amateurs. But something in my gut told me this was the right place to be.
"Hello," a voice called out a moment later.
I turned to see a pretty, but otherwise average, woman emerge from behind a curtain separating the storefront from the rest of the building. Her long, dark hair flowed in loose waves over a thick, burgundy sweater that covered baggy printed pants. Cute black ankle boots were on her feet. Though it was January, it was still an unusually cold day.
"I'm Lizzy, the owner. How can I help you today?"
I cleared my throat. "Actually, I'm here about the job. I saw your 'Help Wanted' sign in the window."
Lizzy's brown eyes traveled over my face with new interest as a genuine smile lit up her face. "Oh good! I could definitely use an extra set of hands around here. My normal assistant is…out of commission for a while." The pause was barely noticeable, but there. I didn’t have any time to wonder about it, though. "Do you have any experience working in a voodoo store? Or are you at least familiar with the practice?”
I hesitated. My encounters with the supernatural had been…personal. Painful. And not something I wanted to discuss with someone I barely knew. "I'm a quick learner," I told her instead. "And I have a strong interest in the occult and everything supernatural. Which is what brought me to New Orleans.”
Lizzy laughed and clapped her hands together. "Perfect! When can you start?"
"Immediately," I replied, feeling a thrill of excitement mixed with nerves.
Lizzy beamed before her bright smile fell slightly. "Oh, I didn't catch your name?"
"Esme," I said, shaking her outstretched hand. "Esme Ramirez. I just moved to the area. Do you need me to fill out an application or anything?" I realized too late that I should've given her a different name. Oh well, if she insisted on getting my information, I had a spell that would make her think I was completely legitimate. It's how I got across the border. Surely it would get me a job.
But she just looked at me, her dark eyes warm. "Is there anything I need to know about you that will affect your working here?"
I shook my head and gave her a little shrug. "No. I don’t think so.”
"Have you ever been in jail or committed a crime?"
"No." At least, not the jail part.
Her smile returned. "Then welcome aboard. I tend to have good instincts about people, and right now they're telling me that you and I are going to get along just fine. The job is temporary until my normal assistant can come back to work, but I have no idea how long that will be. Also, I can either cut you a weekly check or pay you under the table. Whichever you prefer."
Temporary would be perfect. I didn't know how long I'd be staying in New Orleans, and my money supply was rapidly dwindling, even with the cheap apartment I'd rented. "That works for me, and under the table is fine."
"Great! Makes things easier. Let me show you around, Esme." Lizzy guided me through the shop, pointing out the different sections—herbs, crystals, ritual tools, weird stuff in jars—and then showed me where the cash register was. "Mostly, I’ll need you to greet the customers when they come in, keep track of inventory, and keep the shelves looking neat. I'll show you more about the register when we get some customers."
" Gracias ."
" De nada ."
I smiled, and she smiled back. I liked this witch already. And she was a witch, that I knew. It was her magic I’d felt feeling me up when I'd first walked in. Even now, I could see it swirling through her aura as we spoke. Lizzy was inexperienced with her power, but now that I’d met her, I could see she was stronger than she probably knew.
“Are you from Mexico?" she asked as she showed me the back room and the hooks where I could hang up my coat and purse. I felt a little overdressed in my long-sleeved red sweater dress and knee-high black boots compared to Lizzy, who was definitely more casual, but I loved clothes. And I loved expensive clothes. And Lizzy didn't seem to mind.
"Originally, yes." That wasn't a lie. Just made it sound like I'd been in this country longer than I had, which would serve my purpose well, for now. A noise to my right caught my attention, and I turned to stare at the adorable little black dog snoring on a soft bed in the corner.
"That's Mr. Wigglebutt. Wiggles. He comes to work with me every day now that he's old. I hope that won't be an issue."
"No. No," I hurried to reassure her. "I love dogs." Also not a lie. I loved all animals.
"Perfect. I'll introduce you when he wakes up. He can't see very well, or hear, but he's still pretty spunky for his age. And he's a good boy."
"I can't wait to meet him."
I spent the rest of the day shadowing Lizzy as she took care of the customers that trickled in, then she introduced me to her sweet perro , Wiggles, who only grumbled at me a little bit until he sniffed at me for the required amount of time to determine I didn't mean either of them any harm. I made a mental note to bring him some treats the next time I came in. Shortly after, I was sent home for the night and told to be back in the morning a few minutes before the store opened.
All in all, it was a good day. And it was nice to pretend, at least for a little while, that this normal type of existence was my life.
* * *
I bolted upright in bed, my heart frantically trying to escape my ribcage as cold sweat trickled down my spine. The dream that had woken me crept along the edges of my consciousness like a sinister shadow, haunting me.
I struggled to catch my breath, my fingers clutching at the tangled sheets as recent memories of my last night in Mexico flooded back, vivid and raw. The screams of my family, the acrid smell of smoke, the malevolent laughter that still echoed in my nightmares. A shudder wracked my bones as I shook off the last remnants of my dream, and I quickly swiped the tears from my cheeks.
I'd watched my family burn, knowing I couldn't save them, and I would never forget the terror of that night for the rest of my life.
And now the one who murdered them was here, in this city.
Throwing off the covers, I stumbled to the window, my heart racing as I pressed my forehead against the cool glass. The narrow street below lay deserted, shrouded in an eerie silence that felt almost suffocating. Even in the stillness, I could sense the djinn's oppressive power radiating through the city like a disease, infecting everything in its path with its rot. A dark presence that wrapped around my chest until I couldn't breathe.
I backed away from the window as I fought to take air into my lungs. I never should've stayed here as long as I had. I should've kept going until there was an ocean between us and searched for help somewhere else. But I’d never been here before, and once I’d arrived and felt so much magic around me…well…I’d hoped to find someone or something who would help me defeat him so I wouldn't have to run anymore. So I could get closure for the deaths of my family.
I thought I’d have more time…
But now it was too late to run again. He would know I was here soon enough, if he didn't already. And I couldn't fight him alone. I wasn't estúpido . I would need help. But it was too soon. I wasn't ready.
I quickly used the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and gathered my long hair back into a low ponytail before applying my favorite red lipstick that made me feel both extremely powerful and unequivocally feminine. Then I threw on a pair of black jeans and a red blouse, my fingers fumbling with the buttons as adrenaline surged through my veins. I slipped my feet into black flats, grabbed my leather jacket and my grandmother's silver pendant—a small but potent talisman against evil that I always had on my person—and raced out the door.
I acted without thinking, going on instinct alone.
The night air was cool against my flushed skin as I hurried through the narrow cobblestone streets of the French Quarter. Music and laughter spilled from the open doors of bars and clubs as I passed, but I barely registered the sounds. My mind focused solely on my destination.
I rounded the corner, and The Purple Fang came into view, the brick exterior pulsing with the same energy that had drawn me to it the first time. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy black door.
Inside, the club was a kaleidoscope of purple neon lights and writhing bodies. The bass thumped through the floor, vibrating up my spine as I scanned the room. And there, through the haze of smoke and sweat, I saw him.
Brogan.
As if sensing my presence, his piercing gaze locked with mine, and a shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with fear.
With my heart in my throat, I wove through the crowd, not questioning the reason I'd run to him.
I knew exactly why.