Jodi Redford - That Voodoo You Do

“Fine, so you re- killed him. Whatever. What I want to know is where you got all this inside scoop on zombies, witchcraft and voodoo. Are you a witch too? Is that why the coven assigned you to me?”

He returned his focus to the windshield. “No. To both questions.”

“You’re keeping something from me and I don’t like it.”

Fear held his tongue hostage. In the back of his mind he’d always known the day would come when he’d have to explain to Jemma about who he was. What he was. But once she discovered the truth, their lives would be forever changed. A selfish part of him wanted to prolong the illusion of normalcy they’d built together. It was the only thing he had. The only thing that’d given him something to live for. “Sweetheart, you’ve processed an awful lot of craziness today. How about if we just take the rest one step at a time?”

“So you are hiding something from me.”

He stifled a groan. What karmic debt was he paying that life saddled him with two temperamental witches? Fortunately, the avenue of moss-draped oaks that marked the entrance to the Beaumont coven house popped into view. “We’re here. We’ll finish this conversation later, all right?”

He turned onto the graveled lane, his fists tightening on the steering wheel as he imagined the tongue-lashing Clarissa had in store for him. The twin flames flickering within the gas lanterns that flanked the opened gates instantly flared in recognition of their arrival. No backing out now.

His Pathfinder cleared the bend in the drive, and the coven house was revealed in all its antebellum glory. He rounded the horseshoe drive and stopped in front of the massive columned porch. A full spread of desserts and lemonade had been set out near the doors, presided over by a lush arrangement of lilies. Peach Templeton was making her way through a plateful of cookies while she rocked in her customary spot. She straightened her spectacles and treated him and Jemma to a good inspection when they abandoned the vehicle and approached the porch steps.

“Ms. Peach, you’re looking lovely as always.”

Grunting, the elderly woman finished munching her iced oatmeal cookie, the crumbs sprinkling the front of her violet pantsuit. “Boy, your eyesight must be failing worse than mine. I’ve shrank another inch and if my boobs sag any farther I’ll never see my bellybutton again.” Her squinty gaze shifted to Jemma. “You Rose’s offspring?”

Looking slightly bemused, Jemma nodded. “So I’ve been told.”

“You’ve got the same nose.” That declaration made, Peach bit into her next cookie and resumed her rocking.

A creak sounded on the floorboard beside Griffin, and he glanced over to find Clarissa eyeing him coolly. Garbed in skintight black leather pants and a tank top sporting a neon purple pentagram that clashed violently with Clarissa’s waist-length red tresses, the coven’s mistress struck an intimidating pose. Undoubtedly she’d planned it that way.

Clarissa moved her attention to Jemma. The iciness in her blue irises melted a fraction and the rigid line of her lips softened. “Welcome home, Jemma.” She stepped forward and extended her hand. “I’m Clarissa Miles.”

After an awkward hesitation, Jemma accepted the handshake. The second Clarissa lowered her arm Jemma’s chin adopted a stubborn slant. “I think you and I need to get something clear.”

Apparently picking up on the strong waves of tension radiating from Jemma, Clarissa arched her eyebrows. “Okay.”

“You had Griff before me—I can respect that. And I’m sorry if you feel like I’m poaching on your territory, but the fact is I’m not giving him up without a battle. So bring it on.”

Ah shit . This time Griffin gave his groan full reign.

Peach lowered her cookie. “Gloria, get your ass out here. We’re gonna see us a catfight.”

The furious slap of what sounded like flip-flops preceded Gloria Jones’s appearance in the mansion’s doorway. Panting heavily, Gloria eagerly ping-ponged her gaze between Clarissa and Jemma. “I’m putting my money on the new girl.”

Peach snorted. “Are you forgetting the way our Clarissa took down Amber Piedmont?”

Gloria’s mouth popped into a big O. “Do I still have time to change my bet?”

A long-suffering sigh floated from Clarissa. “Accidentally turn a debutante into a pig and no one lets you forget it.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she squinted at Gloria and Peach. “Sorry to disappoint you two bloodthirsty hags, but there will be no catfight.”

“You’re as much fun as a hangnail.” Pouting, Peach crammed the remainder of her cookie in her mouth.

Rather than returning her focus to Jemma, Clarissa glared at Griffin. “Couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, could you? I hope it was worth it, because we’re all probably going to die due to your lapse in judgment.”

Griffin blinked, speech momentarily failing him. He’d expected Clarissa’s anger, but not this deluge of irrational outrage.

An irritated noise sprang from the back of Jemma’s throat. “You’re being just a tad overdramatic, don’t you think? It isn’t like Griff and I having sex opened the portals of death or something.”

Clarissa’s lips pinched tight. “Actually, it did.”

He stared at the shock freezing Jemma’s features and figured his face must be wearing an identical expression.

Oblivious, or more likely unconcerned with the bombshell she’d just dropped, Clarissa continued ranting. “The only way you were able to stay hidden from Nettie all these years was because your magic was locked away. But then Free Willy over there sticks his dick where it doesn’t belong, and suddenly your energy signal is shooting through the universe. There might as well have been a flashing marquee over Griffin’s house saying Here I am, zombies — come suck my brains out .”

He mentally tracked back to the mysterious shaking of the kitchen counter, right when Jemma was com—

Oh fuck.

Jemma shook her head before rubbing her temples. “Wait a sec. Griff isn’t the first man I’ve ever had sex with. Why the hell wasn’t my energy triggered long before now?”

A premonition of doom barreled down on him like a Mack truck. He swung his gaze in Clarissa’s direction, his tongue fumbling to form the words that’d hopefully stall the revelation looming on the horizon. Shit, why didn’t he come clean with Jemma when he had the chance?

The words finally found their exit, but Clarissa beat him to the delivery. “Because Griffin isn’t just any man. He’s your familiar.”

Jemma blinked at Clarissa, trying to make sense of the word. “My what ?”

“Your familiar.” Clarissa frowned. “Why do you look like this is news to you?”

“Uh, because it is.” Jemma glanced toward Griff and noticed his deer-in-headlights expression.

“I don’t understand.” Clarissa plunked her hands on her hips. “You said you knew that I had Griffin before you did.”

“Well, I only assumed you guys had sex. Griff mentioned your relationship was complicated.” She shrugged. “Sex is often complicated.”

From the way Clarissa gaped at her, she wondered if a foot had suddenly sprouted from the top of her head. She resisted the urge to check and see.

“Griffin was my familiar before I gifted him to you. That was our relationship. Good goddess, we most certainly did not have sex.” Clarissa’s tone implied that the mere idea was sacrilegious.

Relief swept through Jemma, until she remembered Griff’s big, fat, honkin’ secret. She peered up at him, unable to mask the hurt ballooning inside her. “This is what you were keeping from me earlier, isn’t it?”