Hoodoo Blue Read online

  “Oh! I just had a thought.”

  “What is it?”

  “Would you be willing to date a man who’s in the construction business?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. Estele, can’t you tell when I’m being sarcastic?”

  “It was meant as a helpful suggestion. Are you going to continue to hope you don’t get excited, have a fantasy, or wake from a wet dream with the house in flames?”

  “Umm, yeah. That’s what I’m hoping for.”

  “That’s not a plan.”

  “Estele, there is no plan. I have to resist temptation as long as I can. There’ll be no fantasizing, and certainly no dating. Until things change, I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

  “You’re planning to avoid men, and not date, fantasize, or use your vibrator indefinitely?”

  “I also canceled cable and gave away a box full of my favorite romance novels.”

  “Ouch, that’s harsh! So, even if the perfect guy was out there waiting to meet you… you’d turn him down?”

  “At this time, yes. Until I learn to separate magic and emotions, I’ll have to stay very single and celibate.”

  “That’s foolish.”

  “It’s practical. By the way, why did you call?”

  “Errr… why did I call? Gosh, I’m drawing a blank.”

  “Estele, if you called to shame me about not dating, you needn’t have bothered. My mother calls regularly to do it.”

  “I’m not shaming you, Fredi. We were always so close. I simply wanted to make up for my last mistake by offering you…”

  Fredi drummed her fingertips on the desktop. The uneven tone of her friend’s voice was a worry. “Offering me what?”

  “Umm, an invitation for tomorrow night.”

  Yep, she was right. Estele sounded suspect. She petted a kitten. “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t say no. I haven’t even told you what it’s for yet.”

  The kitten bit her finger with syringe-sharp teeth. “Ouch. Go on.”

  “It’s a surprise party. Why ‘ouch’? What happened?”

  “I got kitten-nipped. Surprise party for who?”

  “You don’t know him,” Estele blurted.

  “Well, that’s perfect. It won’t ruin the surprise when I don’t show.”

  “It’s an uncle of mine.” Treacle-sweet pleading poured out of Estelle. “He’s a dear old mage.”

  “Another relative of yours? Is that wise?”

  “Please, do it for me. You need to socialize. A few hours away from your cottage and the animal shelter would do you some good. Besides, you have to start going out sometime. All you have to do is get dolled up and make a fresh start tomorrow night.”

  “No.”

  “Come on! Try a night out. You have to start sometime. One hour, one drink. Nothing more.”

  “Can I think about it?”

  “Fredi, say ‘yes.’ I promise it will be good for you to get out. You won’t regret it.”

  “Where’s the party?”

  “The Voodoo Hoodoo cocktail lounge.”

  “No! I can’t go there. The place is crawling with Fae and Magi. I’m a joke in the enchantment community. They think I’m the blonde bimbo who whips out a wand like a scene from High Noon and doesn’t know when to stop blasting.”

  “No one thinks that. San Buena is your hometown. You have a lot of friends here who care about you and want to see you move forward with your life. Put the Giles incident behind you and meet me tomorrow night at seven o’clock for a pitcher of Hoodoo-mixers.”

  “Okay, but this is a practice outing. I can’t risk hanging around and waiting for things to go yuck. One drink, and then I’m making an excuse to leave, okay?”

  “Fair enough. You’ll really be there? You won’t chicken out?”

  “I’ll be there,” Fredi sighed. “Though I’m not convinced it’s a good idea.”

  “One hour. It’s not a big deal. You need to be around people. You’re only twenty-six, and that’s too young to become a weird cat lady.”

  “You’re right. I need to get out. Estele, thanks for calling. To be honest, I’ve been pretty lonely.”

  “I’ve missed you, too. There’s no need to be lonely. Start trusting yourself and do a little socializing at a party. The results might surprise you.”

  “I love bad puns. Are you saying I might surprise myself at a surprise party?”

  “What surprise party?” Estelle blurted.

  “Geez, Estele, the surprise party you just invited me to! What’s wrong with you? Are you using mercury in your tinctures? Don’t do it. It’s not safe. You’ll become as waffle-brained and confused as Witch Griselda.”

  “Poor old Griselda! Don’t even wish that on me. I heard Griselda sneezed at a wedding and accidently turned a row of bridesmaids into nanny goats in pink dresses, right at the ‘I do's.’ The goats bolted out of the church, bleating. One shredded and ate her gown and couldn’t rejoin the ceremony once everyone was set right because of a horrific bellyache. Can you imagine passing that many yards of taffeta? It must have been awful.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Suffering Sibyls, I thought I had problems.”

  “The good news is I’m fine, and I don’t use mercury in my tinctures. I’m tired, that’s all. I have a new routine. I’ve been jogging before dawn.”

  “You jog now?” Her breath halted. “How obscene. That’s something I’d never get involved with.”

  “I jog and I love it! I’m looking forward to tomorrow night. It will be fun.”

  “Whatever. I have to go, Estele. I need to finish casting a spell on these rescue kittens while the first round of incantation is fresh.”

  “You’re doing good work. I’ll let you go so you can witch those kitties good homes.” Estele paused. “You’re not going to back out on me, are you?”

  “No, I’ll be there. Again, thank you for calling. I missed you, too.”

  “See you tomorrow night.”

  “Bye.” Fredi set the phone onto its cradle. She gazed at the restless kittens circling the interior of the crate. “Who wants tuna?”

  Chapter Two

  Fredi should have already left for the surprise party. Instead, she stood barefoot, wearing a silk kimono and staring into her closet, paralyzed with indecision. Not so long ago, it had been fun to dress sexily and go out for the evening, but today it was an intimidating chore. It felt like an eternity since she’d made an effort to impress anybody, and she was definitely out of practice.

  She chose a knit dress in a rich shade of mulberry, held it to the light, and squinted at it discerningly. The dress was one of her favorites, and it looked great against her fair skin and blonde hair, but there was a problem. The plunging neckline showed a lot of cleavage and hugged her full hips and thighs. If she wore it, all her unmistakably feminine curves would be fully displayed, and that was bound to attract male attention. It always did, but could she handle it?

  The incident with Giles had shaken her confidence. Truth be told, during the first half of the date, she’d lusted after Giles and had been so looking forward to some fun exploration with a sophisticated European warlock. An affair with someone out of the ordinary might have opened her eyes to new possibilities. She’d even allowed her fantasies to drift further into what-if.

  What if it worked between them? Could she relocate to France? What if they became a couple and had little witchlets down the road? The fantasies had gotten out of hand fast. But then Giles exposed himself as a manipulative creep out to use her, and, man-oh-man, her dreams crashed hard and her volcanic temper blew sky-high.

  She vowed that sort of ungrounded fantasy and the resulting disillusionment it produced absolutely would not happen again. But at her age, was it a crime to expect more? If she were honest with herself, she’d have to admit she was ready for a full-time man in her life, but only if that man was her equal or better and could respect who she was.

  Too bad a couple of glaring obstacles cluttered the path to
finding that kind of dream man.

  First, she was a witch and far too intimidating for the average Joe to casually approach. Even though she’d been born and raised on the West Coast, she wore her voluminous blonde locks Lone-Star style, piled high on her head, and she’d never met a curling iron she didn’t like. Cat-eye liner? Yes, thick and black, please, and winged all the way to her temples. Spike-heeled boots? A must. In addition to all that, the witchy chill in her almond-shaped blue eyes made her look a bit cruel. Even if a man outside the enchantment community liked what he saw, he didn’t need to know she was a card-carrying witch to sense she might be out of his league and far more than he could safely handle. A lot of nice guys she wanted to get better acquainted with never got beyond a few wistful glances.

  She was no sylph, either. The best description was Junoesque, big and bold in body and temperament. In the past, she hadn’t been afraid to be on the receiving end of men’s admiring glances. With few exceptions, she appealed to men who wished to surrender to a powerful woman. Of course, being a witch and a plus-sized beauty granted her double points in that department. The flaring curves of her hips were man magnets that attracted admirers who wanted to be dominated by a goddess, which was flattering and could be fun, but who the hell was looking after her?

  Currently, no one.

  Yes, it was wonderful to take charge of a man, but, at this stage of the game, she could barely be trusted with her own actions, let alone be in control of someone else’s pleasure and emotional safety. She needed a man with enough confidence and integrity that she could completely surrender to him, but men like that were hard to find. Apparently, the old-fashioned model had sold out, and they weren’t making them like that anymore.

  Around her last birthday, she realized she’d like to be in a serious relationship with someone who was giving back to her. Almost immediately, the dating fun stopped and the tension started.

  At first, an antsy, possessive why can’t I have it yesterday sort of feeling took over. Then it got worse—maybe there’s no one out there for me. Then Giles pissed her off, and she’d done a terrible thing. She really was ashamed of how she’d handled it. Giles was in the wrong, but she didn’t have to lose her cool and blast the city of San Buena to smithereens. During the harrowing moments, she’d chased Giles down the street, lobbing flaming green balls of plasma at his bouncing back pockets. She’d been totally beyond self-control. It terrified her. She swore to never again mix enchantment with temper. As far as she was concerned, it was too freaking dangerous, and she didn’t want to be the kind of witch everyone feared.

  Maybe in a decade or two, after her hot-blooded passions cooled, she’d risk taking a meek, inoffensive lover and enjoy what little she could with him in some diluted version of romance.

  “Ugh.” Fredi plopped the mulberry dress onto the bed. God, help her, but that scenario sounded dismal. She could see her bleak future stretching in front of her, and it was one big, boring blah.

  “No! That doesn’t have to happen. I can control myself.” With lightning speed, she snatched the clingy dress off the bed, knowing she should definitely wear it along with her favorite moonstone pendant that dangled between her breasts, and her tall, black boots that made her shapely legs look wicked as sin.

  “Maybe Estele is right.” Turning toward the bedroom mirror, she gave herself a little pep talk. “It might be a good idea to start going out casually and build up some social immunity. Nothing challenging, strictly a ‘hello’ and ‘nice to meet you’ level of interaction.” Certainly nothing she might take personally and overreact to like an official date, a hand on her thigh under the table, or a lewd remark. There was no way she could be trusted to deal well with that sort of thing, not in her current overwrought state.

  She drew a calming breath. Socializing in small steps made sense. In fact, as an act of good faith, she decided that, just for tonight, she should go the full Monty and leave her wand at home. The surprise party would take only an hour or two. If she wasn’t packing a loaded wand, there was zero risk it would get discharged in the wrong situation.

  “I’ll do it.” Fredi walked toward her handbag, removed her wand, and set it under the bed. “Okay, that’s taken care of.” Now the best she could hope for was dull company at the party and no agitation from the meddling bartender, Sidhe the Fae, or Sid as the patrons of the Voodoo Hoodoo cocktail lounge called him.

  Sid was a sneaky bastard in a devastatingly sexy way. He was tall, sleek, and aloof with a sly smile, jewel-toned green eyes, and delicate ears that came ever so slightly to points. Yes, he could be cool and Spock-like, but he seemed to have the magic touch where the ladies and gentleman were concerned.

  She wouldn’t put it past Sid to hex the nachos, either. It seemed like the kind of thing the Fae would relish. Everyone in the enchantment community knew the Fae were the fallen ones, pagan ex-deities now relegated to the minor role of mischief-makers. Concocting exotic drinks and seducing strangers were the sort of rebellious, naughty-boy behaviors Sid indulged in.

  Her face warmed from remembering one time at the Voodoo Hoodoo lounge when she’d made a wrong turn into what she thought was the door to the ladies’ room and walked into a large storage closet instead. She’d caught an eyeful of Sid going down on an enthralled woman who was perched on a center shelf with her thighs wrapped around Sid’s face, while Sid fucked a handsome young man who was draped over a bottom shelf with his pants pooled around his ankles. No one seemed to care she was gawking, so she stayed and marveled, slack-jawed, as the show rolled on. She’d watched with an odd mix of envy, shock, and admiration as Sid heroically brought both partners to climax at the same stunning moment. The whole steamy scene was burned into her mind.

  Her fingertips heated. “Ouch!” Sparks shot from her fingertips and set an area rug aflame. “No!” She stomped the burgeoning flames out with a slipper, but the edge of the rug was scorched black. “Jumping Jezebel.” She frowned at the damage. This time, it was a small fire, but it could have been so much worse.

  “Do not think of bisexual Fae. Do not think of steamy group scenes! Do not—uhh!” More sparks shot from her fingertips and ignited the drapes. “Holy crap!” She rushed toward the drapes, yanked a panel down, and beat the fabric against the floor until the embers died.

  When she glanced up, she saw her neighbor Mr. Plotkin standing on his porch, peering into her bedroom window.

  Mr. Plotkin looked worried and had a fire extinguisher ready at his side. “Is everything all right, Miss De la Cruz?”

  She shouted extra loud so her partially deaf neighbor could hear. “Yes, Mr. Plotkin, everything’s fine!”

  “If you say so, Miss De la Cruz.” Mr. Plotkin preemptively moved his newly replaced rocking chair to the far side of the porch.

  Fredi glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Damn. If she didn’t hurry, she was going to be late. She gathered her clothes off the bed and ran into the bathroom to get dressed. In a flash, she expertly applied her winged eyeliner and lip-gloss and loosely pinned her hair in a cascade of golden curls that streamed past her shoulders. Even though she was rusty at getting dolled up, she looked good and didn’t have to resort to a desperate act of enchantment to pull herself together. Moments later, she was zipping her tall boots before striding out the front door cloaked in a cloud of soft perfume with keys in hand.

  The short drive into town passed quickly, even without having to cast green-light spells to move matters along. Fortunately, no one got in her way, and beach traffic flowed. The evening promised to be a lovely one with a silvery June moon peeking above the horizon. In no time, she saw the pink and lime-green neon martini glass flickering above the Voodoo Hoodoo cocktail lounge.

  She pulled her butter-yellow chrome-trimmed '76 Cadillac into the only available parking space, which was a tight fit for such a boat-like car. A hulking, fire-engine-red pickup truck outfitted with a baker’s rack and built-in toolboxes dominated its own parking space and had pushed its way over the line int
o the last space left.

  Like a jet pilot landing on an aircraft carrier, she expertly guided her Cadi into the cramped spot, knowing if she passed it up she’d be driving for blocks to find another. After parking, she discovered there was barely room to open the driver-side door. With caution, she cracked the door open by half, but had to wiggle and shimmy her way out, which was a very undignified thing for a full-figured woman to have to do.

  Fredi squeezed against the pickup, cursing under her breath, and inched her way between the two vehicles. In the fuss, her heel caught and she lurched forward. Her bulky silver wrist cuff encrusted with moonstones scraped a sweeping gash in the pickup’s glossy crimson paint.

  “Damn!” She stared at the damage and immediately reached into her purse to retrieve her magic wand to repair it. Her hand froze mid-swipe. No wand. It was lying under the bed at home. Now what? She was a known vandal in San Buena. Now she’d have to walk into the Voodoo Hoodoo lounge and report her wrongdoings the old-fashioned way and offer to witch it later or pay. Bat crap! More paperwork. Her insurance premiums were sure to skyrocket. Again. An evening out probably wasn’t such a great idea after all.

  She pushed the back door to the Voodoo Hoodoo lounge open and walked inside, prepared to report her faux pas and receive dirty looks from all. The atmosphere of the lounge was intimate and mysterious in a slightly foreboding way. Bubbling fish tanks filled with glowing electric eels provided most of the cool blue light above the bar. Tropical birdcalls and the recorded roar of a waterfall filled the air, which felt humid and smelled salty, adding to the equatorial feel.

  The lounge was decorated for effect, but there was a ton of real magic hidden in the details. Monstrously large tikis carved from the trunks of South Pacific palm trees lined the walls. Their scowling faces bathed in pink floodlights contained the actual trapped spirits of men who had the misfortune to piss off some old Kahuna at the turn of the last century. The lounge’s battered but elegant mahogany bar had been rescued from an abandoned ghost ship that had been towed into San Buena’s harbor and dismantled for scrap in 1897. It was widely known in the enchantment community that the bar was haunted by the souls of drowned sailors, who sometimes followed tipsy patrons home.