Angie Fox: Gentlemen Prefer Voodoo

“Excuse me?”

“For three hundred and eighty-six years, I serve. I help the women of your family fulfill their destinies as women of voodoo. But with you? I get stressed. You do everything wrong. And when I stress, I molt.”

She planted a hand on her hip. “So your tail is going to fall off if I don’t go out with some rum-swilling boozehound?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” His wide nostrils quivered. “You do not go out with a boozehound…you go out with a man!”

Amie rubbed her fingers along the bridge of her nose to tamp down the dull ache forming there.

Did she really have to discuss her dating life with her dead mother’s mythical monster?

No. She didn’t owe the Kongamato anything. Not after he blew flames out the upstairs window last week. Sure, he’d managed to lure a half dozen firemen into Amie’s bedroom, but she’d had a devil of a time explaining how seven 911 callers had been mistaken about the fire.

Too bad for Amie, Kongamatos were as stubborn as they were loyal. “I worry about you,” Isoke said, following her. “This is not natural. The women in your line—they are passionate.”

“I am passionate,” she said, fighting the urge to stuff him in a doggie carrier and mail him back to Zambia. “Look at this store. This is my passion.” Couldn’t he see what she’d done here?

She was damned proud of it.

Every detail was perfect. Everything was in its place.

His yellow eyes drilled into her. “The women in your line are women of action.”

What did he want from her? “You know what? The women in my line are gone. Mom is gone. You have me now. This is how I am and I like it.”

He studied her for a moment. “No. You are unhappy.”

“I am happy!” she shouted.

“That’s better,” he said, utterly delighted as Amie clapped a hand over her mouth. She never yelled.

Amie waited to make sure nothing bad was going to come out before she spoke. There was nothing wrong with being in control. “Okay, it’s not that I wouldn’t like a man in my life.” Who wouldn’t, right? “I’m just not going to settle for anything less than perfect.”

Isoke growled.

“And no more firemen.”

He rolled his eyes. Drama queen.

Amie selected a Love and Happiness candle from the shelf next to the organic bath oils and lit it. “See? Look. I’m starting already.”

Isoke landed on the multicolored countertop next to the candle, clipping a wing on the cash register. “Eyak. This store was not made for Kongamato.”

Amie managed a weak smile. “I didn’t know I’d inherit you so soon.”

“I could not save your mother, which means I will try doubly hard with you.” He folded his wings like a bat. “Please, for the sake of my tail, you must consider it.”

Amie ruffled the three stiff feathers on the top of his head. “For you, Isoke. I will try.”

Nine years. The shop had been busy all afternoon and still she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

She hadn’t had a date in nine years . Amie closed her cash register and said good-bye to the young couple who had just purchased a fertility doll and an extra large bottle of sandalwood massage oil.

She had to think of something else. Her eyes settled on the poster of Papa Ghede, laughing and cavorting with his latest lover. Yeah, that didn’t help.

Okay, so it had been a long time—too long—but Amie had been busy. She’d graduated college, opened her own shop, fixed up the apartment upstairs. The second floor had needed a lot of work. Her landlord had used it as storage. It still had the French-style mirrors on the ceiling from its glory days as a bordello. Okay, so Amie had left the mirrors. But she had done a lot to the place.

It’s not like many people held down jobs and decorated their apartments and dated, right?

Oh hell. Maybe she did have a problem.

She glanced at the Kongamato settling in on his perch. He hung from the ceiling, folding his wings around him like a giant bat.

She hoped Isoke wasn’t the type to gloat when he got his way.

True, she would never be able to bring herself to go out with any of the men she saw up and down Bourbon Street at all hours of the day and night. And she definitely didn’t want a man like the kind her mother had dated. They might appear nice at first, but all of them were drunks, gamblers, or cheaters in the end.

Luckily for Amie, she knew another way.

She fingered her blue and silver beaded necklace, a Do Good charm she’d fashioned years ago. My power is both a gift and an obligation. Let good works flow through me . She’d been using her spells to help her customers find love. So why hadn’t she used it on herself? Because men were brash and unpredictable.

But what if she could eliminate the risk?

She’d tried that once, with her last boyfriend. He’d been nice and safe, soft and accommodating, with an average build and eyes that focused on ESPN more than her. She’d composed entire grocery lists while they made love and more than once had been tempted to stop midcaress so she could make a quick note about the need for more bananas or bread. He’d never surprised her, never challenged her, and when he left, she hadn’t cared.

While she was quite pleased that she hadn’t been hurt like her mother, Amie also knew she’d wasted her time.

But if she could control things, perhaps she could welcome some passion into her life—without the pain. She could actually let herself feel, dream, give her love with absolutely no fear that he’d break her heart.

She could summon Mr. Right!

He’d know how to act, know how to dress, and know how to please her. He wouldn’t complicate her life.

At last she’d have someone to spend her evenings with, to walk the French Quarter with, someone who might want to try out the mirrors over the bed. The mere thought of it sent heat pooling to her belly. Yes, the Kongamato had a point. Perhaps it was time to voodoo herself a valentine.

Amie locked the shop early that night, feeling nervous, as if she were heading out on a date. Ideally, the spell should be performed at sunset. Of course Amie knew better than anyone that love spells took time, and they only worked if a girl was ready to accept love into her life.

Was she ready?

Amie already loved her shop, and her life. But, yes, there had to be something more.

She turned off the metal, industrial-style VOODOO WORKS sign outside and punched in the alarm code. With the waning sun and soft security lights to guide her way, she gathered a single sheet of blank white paper and two quartz crystals from the SALE table. Then she ducked under the counter to find her odds-and-ends box.

She’d put together a selection of colorful jewelry-making kits a while back and had stashed the extra weaving thread…“Here,” she said as her fingers located the red and black strands.

Amie swallowed her excitement as Isoke, bathed in shadows, stirred on his perch.

She hoped she could finish before he woke up to go hunting. If she was smart, she’d wait until after her Kongamato was gone for the evening. But Amie didn’t know how long her courage would last.

Isoke sank back into his slumber, a bit of drool sizzling down onto the floor. She was never going to get her security deposit back at this rate. She slid a copper incense burner under him and fought the urge to straighten the three rumpled feathers that stuck out from the top of his head.

She eased into the back room of the shop, closing the EMPLOYEES ONLY door behind her.

The cloying incense was stronger back here, mixed with the heady scent of beeswax altar candles. Isoke’s hot tub hummed in the center. On two sides of the room, wooden shelves held boxes of merchandise while drying herbs hung along the third wall. In the very back, under a small stained-glass window, stood a humble wooden altar that had been her great-grandmother’s. Amie touched the battered surface reverently as she laid out her spell ingredients and closed her eyes.