The Hexorcist Read online

  “What makes you think I’m sitting on information?”

  “Because you keep showing up,” he answered simply. “I still can’t figure out how you knew I wanted to talk to Henrietta in the first place. I mean ... that was a spur-of-the-moment decision based on a bit of gossip I heard.”Gossip that someone else had overheard, Ofelia thought. Gossip that was then texted to her so she could get a jump on the case. There was no way he could possibly know that, though. “I’ve known Henrietta for years,” she volunteered. “It was just a coincidence.”

  “And you’re a bad liar. I ... hold up.” He slid away from Ofelia long enough to cross the street and check on Bernie, who was already passed out for the night. He took the time to tug up the blanket and make sure the man was covered before returning to Ofelia. “What was I saying again?”

  Despite her best intentions, Ofelia found she’d gone warm all over. Watching him care for a man who would be marginalized by the rest of the city was enough to make her go soft. “I didn’t realize you knew Bernie. I also didn’t realize he was sleeping by the Square these days.” She glanced around dubiously. “I need to get him in a halfway house or something.”

  The look Sully shot her was appreciative. “I’ve known Bernie since I started in New Orleans. He’s a good guy. As for getting him off the street, I’ve tried ... multiple times. He doesn’t want to leave.”

  “He’s going to die out here.” Ofelia’s voice was small. “I know that happens all the time, that there’s likely nothing I can do about it, but I hate it.”

  “I hate it, too.” Instinctively, Sully moved his hand to Ofelia’s back so he could prod her to step in front of him. The sidewalk was narrow up ahead for construction. The second he made contact with her, something electric coursed between them and he had to jerk back his hand because he was afraid of being burned.

  Ofelia obviously felt the same thing because her shoulders hopped at the instant of contact. “Um ... .”

  He had no idea what to say so he decided to pretend nothing happened. That seemed the safest course of action. “I gave Bernie money this afternoon and insisted he buy food. I’m sure the bulk of it went for liquor, but I saw a takeout container over there. I’m fairly certain he at least got a burger.”

  Ofelia found she was relieved he didn’t want to talk about that spark. “Well, that’s something at least.”

  As they came up on Bourbon Street it was too loud to talk. Ofelia took a moment to linger by Cafe Beignet and glare at the musicians inside. She enjoyed the music during the day. After midnight, though, there were times she wanted to break every instrument in the band.

  As if reading her mind, Sully stepped up beside her and wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never understood why they play all night on the street. I have no problem with twenty-four-hour music inside. Outside, though ... .”

  “I’m right there with you.” Ofelia’s expression was rueful as they moved past the outdoor venue and toward another side street. “You never told me where you live.” It was more of an observation than a question and she hadn’t meant to voice it in front of him. “Or, if you did, I’ve forgotten.”

  “Why?” he teased, his eyes lighting with amusement. “Are you planning on visiting me?”

  Her cheeks burned, but she maintained her gaze. “You said you lived in the area. I was just ... thinking out loud. You have to walk yourself home after the fact. Maybe I want to make sure you’re safe.”

  Amusement coursed through him at her light tone. “I live off Burgundy, which I actually do believe I mentioned this morning. You were a bit scattered thanks to the body, though, so you probably forgot.”

  Ofelia didn’t want to admit it but that was a definite possibility. “Well ... you should be careful going home.” She pointed toward the next block. “Krewe is right there. You’ve done your duty for the evening. Thank you for the escort.”

  “Wait.” His hand shot out and he lightly snagged her elbow before she could escape from him. “This isn’t your home. I’m walking you all the way to your apartment ... or at least the bar.”

  “It’s right there.” Ofelia found she was flustered, and for a reason she couldn’t exactly put a name to. She had no idea why this man made her so edgy, but she almost felt itchy in his presence. It was quite the experience.

  “Which means it will take me two minutes to finish walking you there.” Sully was firm. “Don’t get all ... worked up. I’m not trying to take away your independence or anything. It’s not safe for you to be out and about, though.”

  “I’ve been out and about at night on my own for years,” she argued. “I’m an adult. That means I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Not on a night when a murder went down.”

  “Actually ... I’ve taken care of myself on those nights, too.”

  He held back a sigh ... but just barely. “Listen, I don’t want to tell you your business, but I’ve about had it with your attitude. Henrietta had lunch with you this afternoon. You can say whatever you want, but I know you were questioning her regarding the death of Brett Johnson. She was fired from the Grand Laveau and she has a reputation for going after those who have wronged her. This would be a roundabout way but still ... .” He trailed off and looked to the sky before clearing his throat and continuing.

  “Now, I’m not your boss or your father,” he said. “You don’t have to listen to me. That doesn’t mean I’m letting you walk home alone given Henrietta’s murder. I’m having a hard time believing that what happened to her has nothing to do with what happened to Brett. If that’s the case, then someone was probably watching her this afternoon, which puts you in the hot seat because you were with her.”

  Ofelia slowed her pace, legitimate surprise washing over her. “I didn’t even consider that,” she admitted a touch ruefully. “You don’t have to worry about me, though. I can take care of myself. Someone would have to be an idiot to go after me.” She didn’t mention why. Talking about magic with a cop — however hot and seemingly open to the extraordinary — seemed like a bad idea.

  “Well, I’m going to make sure that nobody goes after you.” He walked her through the tunnel to the opening of Krewe. The bar was hopping in the background, to the point where he considered entering long enough to get a drink. That notion quickly evaporated, though, when a wave of weariness washed over him. He was too tired to partake with others. “And here we go. That wasn’t so bad, huh?”

  Ofelia glanced through the glass doors, catching Bastion’s eye and internally cringing. She didn’t miss the way the bartender focused on Sully ... or elbowed her father so they both could stare. She knew she would be facing a mountain of questions when she headed inside and she was already bracing herself for it.

  “Thank you for walking me home,” she offered, hoping she sounded sincere rather than snarky. He really was trying to do the right thing. “I greatly appreciate it.”

  “No, you feel infantilized,” Sully corrected. “Despite that, I’m not sorry I walked you back.” On a whim, he leaned close enough that he could practically hear her heart thud. The scent, though dwindling now, still drove him crazy. He was a gentleman, however, and he didn’t make a move on her. Now wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t ruling it out for later, though. He had to make sure she wasn’t a murderer first.

  “I’m going to find out what you were doing with Henrietta,” he said on a throaty growl. “Don’t think you’ve gotten away with anything here.”

  Ofelia was unnaturally calm despite the way her heart pounded in her ears. “I was having coffee and beignets. I didn’t realize that was a crime.”

  “Uh-huh.” He shot her a knowing look and then pulled back. It took a great deal of effort. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “I can’t wait.” Unfortunately for her, that was a true statement.

  THE NEXT MORNING, OFELIA WOKE WITH what felt like a raging hangover. Since she hadn’t imbibed a single drink the night before, that felt grossly unfair.

  Her father was alr
eady in his usual spot reading the newspaper and drinking coffee when she shuffled downstairs after showering and dressing for the day. Rather than deal with her hair, she’d tied it back in a loose bun to keep it out of her face.

  “I’m surprised you’re awake so early,” Oscar commented without looking up from the newspaper. “I thought maybe you snuck your new boyfriend upstairs when nobody was looking. It would be just like you to make the grand goodbye in front of the door as a distraction.”

  Ofelia frowned as she poured her own mug of coffee. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “You could’ve fooled me. The way you two looked at each other was straight out of a romance novel.”

  “He thinks I’m a suspect in Henrietta’s murder. That’s hardly the basis for a great romance.”

  Slowly, Oscar lowered his newspaper. “He doesn’t think you’re a murderer,” he scoffed after a beat. “He probably thinks you know something — which you do — but there’s no way he thinks you’re a murderer. Besides, he’s far too attracted to believe anything truly dark about you.”

  Ofelia wasn’t convinced. “I was only with him because I needed information on Henrietta.”

  “If that’s what you need to tell yourself. Speaking of Henrietta, though, we didn’t get a chance to talk last night. Did you get any good information?”

  “Not really. Her throat was slashed and Detective Sully believes it was someone she knew, someone who managed to move up behind her and not trigger her inner warning bells.”

  “That sounds ... horrible.” Oscar made a face. “Do they think she suffered?”

  Ofelia shook her head. “He said it would’ve been over quick. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead.”

  “Or that she had something to do with the death of that other boy yesterday. That was her hex bag.”

  “Yeah.” Conflicted, Ofelia rubbed her chin. “I don’t know what to make of any of it. In fact ... .” She shifted her eyes to the door when she heard it open. “Didn’t you lock the door after you entered?” Her tone was accusatory.

  Oscar was sheepish. “I don’t think I did. No one ever comes here this early. I’m sorry.”

  “Ugh.” Ofelia made a disgusted sound deep in her throat and started in that direction, an admonishment that they were closed on her lips. She pulled up short when she saw Sully standing in front of the hostess’s stand. “What are you doing here?” She blurted out the question before she could think better of it.

  “And good morning to you, too,” Sully replied dryly. He’d slept hard the night before and was somewhat recovered despite the early morning tip he’d received. After lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for an extended period of time, he made up his mind to act on the tip sooner rather than later. The longer he put it off, the harder it would be.

  “Good morning,” Ofelia offered sarcastically. “What are you doing here? Wait ... are you here to see me?” A small thrill rushed through her at the prospect. “That’s very sweet, but I don’t think now is the time.”

  Despite the surreal situation, Sully found he was amused. “I’m actually here to see your father.”

  The statement caught her off guard. “My father? Why would you want to see him?”

  “Yeah, why would you want to see me?” Oscar echoed, appearing in the space behind his daughter. He’d followed to make sure she wasn’t attacked out of the blue. There was a murderer on the loose, after all.

  “Hello, Mr. Archer.” Sully’s tone was amiable, if a bit stilted. “I’m afraid I need to ask you a few questions about the nature of your relationship with Henrietta.”

  Ofelia was taken aback. “What? You can’t be serious.”

  Hard as it was, Sully ignored her. “It seems that several people — individuals who knew Henrietta — believe the two of you were dating. I need some information about that.”

  Ofelia’s mouth dropped open. “Get out. My father wasn’t dating Henrietta.” The guilty look Oscar shot his daughter was enough to have her tripping over her tongue. “No way!” She was incredulous.

  “We weren’t dating,” Oscar reassured her. “You know how I feel about dating a certain type of woman.”

  Sully’s frown was pronounced. “Did he just admit to being racist?”

  “No,” Ofelia shot back. “He’s not racist. He’s ageist. He doesn’t care that Henrietta is black. He does care that she’s older than him, no matter how good she looked. He only dates women who are younger than forty.”

  Sully had no idea what to make of that. “But he’s got to be in his fifties.”

  “He’s pushing sixty,” Ofelia confirmed. “He doesn’t care that he’s a hypocrite. He wouldn’t date Henrietta, though. She was too old for him.”

  Oscar folded his arms across his chest and bobbed his head. “Exactly. Oh, and by the way, I don’t particularly enjoy you calling me a racist. If you’re going to be panting after my daughter, we’re going to have to come to a meeting of the minds here. I am most definitely not a racist.”

  Sully worked his jaw. “I ... .”

  “Ignore the dating thing,” Ofelia suggested. “He gets ideas into his head and then refuses to let go of them. I told him you were just walking me home last night, but he refuses to believe me.”

  “Because I’m not blind and can see attraction when it’s right in front of me,” Oscar shot back. “Don’t even try to lie to me about this. I know what I know.”

  Sully felt as if he was mired in quicksand. “Listen, I don’t want to step in the middle of a domestic squabble here, but I need information regarding Henrietta. People saw you with her around town within the past few weeks. I need to know what you were doing.”

  “Just hanging out,” Oscar replied. “Is that illegal?”

  Sully looked to Ofelia for help. “Can you talk to him?”

  “Not really. He doesn’t listen to me.”

  “But ... .”

  “You’re on your own here.” She was firm. “I have errands to run before we open this afternoon. If you want to question him, go ahead, but I guarantee you’re barking up the wrong tree. He was most certainly not dating Henrietta.”

  “Well, I still need to question him.”

  “Knock yourself out. Don’t come crying to me when it doesn’t go your way, though. You’ve been warned.”

  Nine

  Ofelia had questions for her father regarding the gossip floating around about him and Henrietta. It would have to wait, though. She didn’t want to tip Sully off that she was concerned about the tidbit.

  Instead, she adopted a breezy air as she left her father in charge of the bar — hopefully he wouldn’t have another meltdown, although he often got joy out of messing with various law enforcement entities so she was reasonably assured things would be fine — and offered a fun wave before disappearing through the door.

  The second she was on the other side, her smile faded. Seriously, why was Oscar hanging out with Henrietta? It made no sense. And yet he’d identified the hex bag as belonging to her. That indicated more than a passing friendship.

  It was early, which meant the bulk of the denizens in the Quarter weren’t yet awake. Fortunately for her, Ofelia knew one business owner who never slept — almost literally — and he happened to be close with Henrietta. That’s where Ofelia pointed herself now.

  It took her ten minutes to walk to Vampyre Vamps, a kitschy paranormal store that was outside the Bourbon Street area. That was a direct choice. The owner, Pascal Craven, wanted customers to have to look for him. He said that made them appreciate the visit even more.

  Ofelia slid through the door when she arrived. She knew it wouldn’t be locked. Pascal’s place was always open. He was a vampire, after all. The Quarter was thick with them, which seemed like a cliché, but the ones hanging around didn’t seem to care.

  The store’s windows were made of a special black glass. Customers assumed it was to add to the ambiance — which was legitimately spooky — but Ofelia knew better.

  As per us
ual, Pascal was sitting in a large black chair — it sort of reminded her of the iron throne on Game of Thrones — and flipping through a magazine. It looked to be some dark and depressing catalog of sorts, but she knew that he really had an Us Weekly in there and was catching up on his celebrity gossip.

  “Good morning, Ofelia,” he greeted her without looking up. “You’re out early this morning.”

  She was taken aback. “How did you know it was me?”

  “You have a very specific scent. Anise and cloves. You smell delicious.”

  She cast him some serious side eye. “I’m not on the menu.”

  “Of course.” He closed the magazine. “I don’t eat witches anyway. They’re a bit gristly.” He winked at her to signify he was joking. “Did you know that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston have been seeing each other on the sly since before he split up with Angelina Jolie? He realizes he made a mistake and wants her to take him back, but she’s leery. I don’t blame her.”

  There were times Ofelia felt that her knowledge of celebrity relationships was forced on her against her will. She honestly didn’t care. “Well ... that’s a difficult choice for both of them.” She was there for information, so she didn’t want to tick him off. That meant feigning an interest in a conversation that bordered on ridiculous. “Did you hear what happened last night?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I heard you were seen with a man. Is there something I should know?”

  She scowled. “No, but the man plays into the reason why I’m here. He’s a detective with the New Orleans PD ... and he was on the scene of a murder.”

  “Really?” Now Pascal was legitimately interested. “Who died?”

  He didn’t know. The realization made Ofelia distinctly uncomfortable. “Oh, well ... .” She didn’t want to be the one to tell him. It wouldn’t go over well. She didn’t see where she had a choice. “It was Henrietta.”