Serendipity: A Bayou Magic Novel Page 7

  We jump apart, startled.

  “Don’t move.” I pick her up and walk out of the bathroom. “You’re not wearing shoes.”

  “What the hell was that, Jack?”

  “The mirror fell.”

  She shakes her head. “Things don’t just fall like that. Not for no reason.”

  “Stop.” I kiss her cheek. “It just fell, Daph. Now, where’s your dustpan and broom?”

  Chapter Seven

  “I will have you removed if you don’t stop. I have a little system of my own.”

  -Charles Manson

  “You little slut,” he mutters as he watches his Daphne smile coyly at that piece of shit, Jackson. “Don’t you dare let him touch you!”

  But she can’t hear him. No, she just lets Jackson put his filthy hands on her and leans into him. God, it makes Horace sick to his stomach.

  If he still had a stomach.

  “You ungrateful little bitch,” he spits out. He wants to reach through the mirror so badly. To kill that asshole with his own two hands and then punish his girl the way she needs to be punished.

  The anger is swift and all-consuming, and when Daphne lifts her face for a kiss, he loses all control.

  He bangs his fists against the glass in fury. Suddenly, it breaks, and he can’t see them anymore.

  “Little cunt,” he mutters, retreating from Daphne’s home and flying up into the sky. “That little brat. What is she thinking? I got rid of him once, sent him away, and now he’s back? Unacceptable.”

  Breaking the mirror depleted Horace’s energy, and he has work to do—so much work to do. More than he originally thought. Obviously, Daphne has lessons to learn.

  “She never was the smartest of my girls,” he mutters as he finds the house he’s been searching for, just on the edge of town. “She needs more detail. More attention. She needs me. But that’s what I’m here for.”

  He nods in satisfaction and takes his place behind the mirror, delighted when he doesn’t have to wait long.

  He has the most satisfying energy source. It was too easy. Too perfect, really.

  As the man stands before the mirror, washing his hands, Horace grins gleefully. And when he raises his head, Horace begins the spell and pulls energy from the host in a steady stream that makes him feel energized and full of adrenaline.

  He’s careful not to take too much—not to take it all. He doesn’t want to kill this one, not yet. The time isn’t right.

  The man slumps forward, and Horace flies up, refreshed and ready for his next toy.

  He has the perfect one in mind.

  The trip north doesn’t take long, and when he moves behind the mirror, he smiles. Yes, everything’s working out just right.

  “There you are. Did you have a bad day?”

  The woman on the other side of the glass scowls at her phone, muttering under her breath. She’s only wearing a bra and underwear. She’s fat, much too big for his tastes, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to touch her. He’d give her more pain, punish her for her gluttony.

  It is a sin.

  Maybe he wishes he could touch her, after all. Show her how stupid she is.

  But perhaps there’s a way.

  She glances up into the mirror, and her brown eyes cloud over when he begins speaking to her.

  “You forgot your knife,” he croons, feeling much calmer now that he’s focused on his work. “You’d best go fetch it.”

  Without a word, the toy leaves the bathroom and returns with a big kitchen blade—a chef’s knife.

  “Is it sharp?” he asks. He misses the weight of a knife in his hands. The way it feels when it slices through flesh. “You’d best test it.”

  Horace’s breath catches when the toy glides the blade up her arm, cutting from wrist to elbow.

  She cries out.

  He sighs in delight.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, this is perfect. Now, let’s trim some of that fat off you, shall we?”

  Chapter Eight

  Daphne

  I shove my feet into my slippers and rush back into the bathroom. I’ll be damned if Jack will clean up the glass by himself.

  “Jack, things don’t just randomly fall off walls,” I insist when I hurry in and see that he’s already sweeping up pieces of glass. Damn it. I really loved this mirror. “There’s always a reason. A ghost. A poltergeist.”

  “Faulty nails,” he adds and points to the little nail sticking out of the wall. “That thing wasn’t sturdy enough to hold this.”

  “It’s been hanging there for years,” I inform him. “I’ve never had a problem before. Oh, Goddess, what if it’s Hor—him?”

  “There’s a damn strong protection spell on your place,” he reminds me. “There’s no way he got in here and broke this thing.”

  I lean over, touch the frame, and gasp.

  Hate.

  Fury.

  Fire.

  “Daph?”

  “Jesus.” I jump back and scowl at the frame. “That thing is full of awful feelings. And let me just say, it wasn’t like that before. It belonged to a woman in Shreveport who loved cats. She was sweet and harmless.”

  “When did she die?”

  I feel my lips twitch. “1988. And that doesn’t have anything to do with it. I’m telling you, there was nothing bad in that mirror before.”

  “I got this,” he says and carries the frame, along with a bag of broken glass, out the door to the trash.

  When he returns, he frowns.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t feel like going out now.” I unfasten my earrings, but before I can take off the necklace, Jack crosses to me and frames my face.

  “Hey, it’s just a mirror. It fell. We’re still going out for dinner. You deserve it. Besides, we have reservations.”

  “Where?” I ask and play with one of the buttons on his shirt, enjoying the way he feels when he stands so close to me.

  “Café Amelie.”

  I narrow my eyes. “How did you know that’s my favorite restaurant?”

  “I’m never going to give up my sources,” he says with a confident grin.

  “On the way back, can we swing by the shop so we can pick up another mirror? I have just the one I want in mind.”

  “Sure. I’ll even hang it for you. With a better nail. I promise it won’t fall.”

  I change into my heels and refasten my earrings. I won’t tell him again that I don’t think that mirror just fell. I don’t know what it could have been, but things don’t just randomly fall.

  Maybe Millie would know, if she came over. I don’t like the idea of asking her to drop her shields, though. Her psychic gifts are so strong, so powerful, they could hurt her. Keeping those shields in place is the best protection for her.

  No one was hurt. The mirror is gone. End of story.

  Jackson leads me to his car.

  “Oh, and by the way, I don’t kiss on the first date.” Which is a silly thing to say because he’s already kissed me.

  But still. It’s the principle.

  Jack laughs and swings out into traffic. “I remember.”

  * * *

  “The mirrors are over here,” I say as we walk into the shop. I flip on some lights, and my heels clip on the old hardwood floor. “I have the perfect one in mind. I wanted to buy it as soon as it arrived, but I didn’t have anywhere to put it.”

  “But now you do,” Jack adds with a smile.

  “Now, I do.”

  Dinner was easy. That’s the best way to describe it. There was no weirdness—nothing uncomfortable at all. We had plenty of delicious food and a little wine. Our conversation was light. I didn’t want to dig into the past or ask a bunch of questions when we were sitting in the middle of a restaurant full of people.

  “Have I mentioned that you look amazing?” he asks as he slips up behind me and rubs my shoulders.

  I’m shocked that I don’t purr like a kitten.

  “You said something a time or two. Now, foc
us. Mirror.”

  “Which one do you want?” he asks but doesn’t stop kneading my shoulders.

  “That one.” I point to an oval mirror with a gold frame.

  “Are you sure you don’t want that black one?” he asks and points to a mirror below the one I have my heart set on.

  “I definitely don’t want the black one.”

  “Why not?”

  “A man in New York owned it,” I explain and turn to watch his face as I tell him the story. “He was in the mob.”

  Jack’s eyebrow lifts. “Really? Like, the real mob?”

  “Yeah.”

  I think back to the first time I touched that mirror and the little jolt it gave me. I didn’t expect that.

  “I thought you said you send bad juju things back.”

  “Oh, I do. It’s not that this one has bad juju, as you put it. In fact, the guy was a lover, not a fighter. And let me tell you, when I say lover, I mean lover. The man had more sex than that basketball guy who slept with like twenty thousand women.”

  “Wilt Chamberlain?”

  “Yeah, that guy. I’m not one to judge, but he had too much sex. And I don’t want that in my house. Now, this oval mirror.” I point to the one I want to take home.

  “Let me guess. Another little old lady?”

  “No.” I laugh and shake my head. “It belonged to a nurse, actually. She was tired, overworked, underpaid, and struggling. Single mom. But she was also fierce and determined. And happy. So, I want it. Plus, the gold matches my shower curtain.”

  Jack laughs as he lifts the mirror off the wall.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Only you would choose a mirror because it matches your shower curtain.”

  “I like that shower curtain, thank you very much.”

  Just as we step back, I catch something move in one of the other mirrors.

  “What was that?”

  I spin, frantically looking around, but there’s nothing there.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “I swear I thought I saw something move in the reflection.”

  I turn back to him and see my father standing behind me in the mirror. The smile on his face immediately makes me physically sick.

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Daph?”

  “Oh, fuck, Jack.”

  “Talk to me, baby.”

  I can’t take my eyes off my dad and that horrible smile.

  “What do you see, Daphne?”

  “My father,” I whisper and feel my hands start to shake. “He’s standing over my left shoulder.”

  “Look at me.”

  I shake my head slowly.

  “Damn it, Daphne, look at me. Right now.”

  My eyes find his, and I feel a little better.

  “Your father isn’t here, sweets. It’s not possible. I promise you.”

  I return my attention to the mirror and see nothing behind me. It’s only the contents of my shop. “I want to go home.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Jack loads the mirror into the back of his car, and once I shut off the lights and lock the back door, we head out once more toward my apartment.

  It’s a nice evening. Not too hot. I roll the window down and enjoy the way the breeze feels. I don’t even care if it messes up my hair. It feels too good.

  Before long, Jack pulls up in front of my place and carries the mirror up behind me.

  “While you hang that, I’m going to change and pour some wine,” I inform him. After what happened earlier, I need the entire bottle.

  Maybe two.

  “Good idea. This won’t take long.”

  He hurries back to his car and returns with a hammer and a handful of nails.

  “Why did you have those in your car?”

  He licks his lips. “Because I saw this happen, and I wanted to be prepared.”

  I blink at him and then shift my feet. “When did you see it?”

  “A few days ago, I guess.” He walks to the bathroom, and I make my way into the bedroom to change my clothes. I love dressing up. But almost as much as that, I adore how it feels to take off the fancy clothes. My leggings and loose sweatshirt feel nice.

  I pad barefoot into the kitchen and pour two glasses of red, just as Jack calls out, “Come check it out.”

  “Oh, I love it.” I pass Jackson a glass of wine and smile as I study the mirror. “Dare I say I like it more than the other one?”

  “I do, too, actually.”

  “Thanks for hanging it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Wanna sit for a while?”

  His eyes darken, and he sips his wine. “Yes. I do.”

  I lead him to the couch and sit on one end, curling my legs under me as I turn to face him where he sits on the other end of the sofa.

  “Should we talk about what happened before?” Jack asks.

  “No.” I shake my head and block what happened at the shop out of my mind.

  “When you’re ready, then.”

  “Where did you go?” I ask, digging into some of the nitty-gritty of our time apart. “After you left New Orleans. I mean, I know you went into the military, but where?”

  He talks for a long time about boot camp, traveling, being stationed on the east coast, and then deployed in the Middle East.

  “You’ve done a lot in the years since I saw you last,” I say and pour us each another glass of wine. “And all I’ve done is stay here.”

  He took his jacket off a while ago, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up on his forearms. Jackson is tanned and muscled, and his dark hair is just a little too long. It makes him look…hot.

  “Stop it. You’ve done a hell of a lot more than that. You started a business—a successful one at that. And you’ve been dealing with a lot in the past year or so.”

  “It hasn’t been boring,” I admit. “I didn’t wonder about where you were back then. I told myself I didn’t care.”

  “I wondered about you every day,” he replies, surprising me. “I regretted everything that happened. How I handled it. But I was also so damn angry. I’d think about you. Wonder how you were and what you were doing. But then a crazy fury would wash over me, and I’d block it out. Focus on the job. And then the job consumed everything. I guess being in a warzone does that to you.”

  My heart aches every time I think of him being in danger.

  “I had the premonitions,” he continues. “And I knew when my guys were going to die. It was its own kind of torture, Daph. I tried to tell a few of them, but they looked at me like I was fucking crazy.”

  “I know how that is.”

  “Yeah.” He rubs his hand over his mouth, and I scoot closer to take his other hand. “Yeah, you’d know. So, I stopped telling them. But I also had to block the premonitions because they were driving me insane. With Miss Sophia’s help, I finally did.”

  “You got medals of honor.” I smile at his surprised glance. “I kept track of things, even if I did it begrudgingly. You saved lives.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “You’re only one man, Jack. And as awesome as you are, you can’t control everything.”

  “So, you’re saying I’m awesome?”

  I laugh and sip my wine.

  “How long are you staying here?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Indefinitely.”

  My eyes find his.

  “You’re surprised?” he asks.

  “Yeah. I thought for sure you’d leave again.”

  “I did, too, to tell you the truth. I even had a job lined up in Idaho. But I just couldn’t go. This is home, Daph. I have people here. And you’re here.”

  He reaches for my hand once more, and I want to pinch myself. Is this real?

  “You know, back to the whole telling-each-other-the-truth thing. I’m afraid if we start something between us, and I see something and tell you about it, you’ll get angry and leave again. That’s why I acted like a big jerk to you since you started coming arou
nd again.”

  “I get it.” He sighs and squeezes my hand. “I’m older and wiser now—and no less handsome, of course.”

  I grin.

  “I don’t carry around that horrible anger anymore, Daph. It was a disease, eating at me. I got some therapy. The thing is, that wasn’t me. That rage isn’t who I am. It never has been.”

  “You were always so laid back and easygoing when we dated before.”

  “I guess it’s true what they say. You never know how a person will handle grief. I guess I know how I handle it.”

  “I suppose so,” I agree quietly. “Thanks for dinner tonight.”

  “Are you kicking me out?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Not exactly. But I do have to open the shop tomorrow, and we both know that I’m not exactly a morning person.”

  “You like to ease into the day,” he agrees. “I want to talk to you about something I’ve been thinking about.”

  “Okay.”

  “Remember when Millie mentioned that everyone needs to stay together until this is finished? For safety?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, I know you don’t want to do that. And I get it. But I’d like to move in here with you. I’ll sleep on the couch. Mind my manners. I don’t like the idea of you being here alone.”

  “Jack, I appreciate the sentiment. I really do. But I don’t think it’s necessary. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And like you and everyone else keeps reminding me, I’m safe inside. He can’t come in.”

  “But he can get to you outside.”

  “So, what? You’re just going to follow me around? That seems silly.”

  “Not silly,” Jackson replies, shaking his head. “Your safety is the most important thing. And I know you’re an independent woman—and I love that about you—but damn it, Daphne, I need you to be safe and whole. I don’t trust this asshole.”

  “Well, that’s something we can agree on. None of us trusts him. Because, you know, he’s a murderous psycho bastard who’s obsessed with us and all.”

  He narrows his eyes on me. “I should stay.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Suddenly, I feel sick to my stomach. The way I did the other day when I found the photo on my stoop.