The Voodoo Killings by Kristi Charish Read Free Book Online Page B

Chinese paper lanterns had been strung across the entire ceiling, in the windows, and wrapped around the wood pillars, all of them covered with the same red characters that decorated the bamboo curtains. Each lantern gave off a warm yellow glow much dimmer than the gas lamps Lee had been partial to, which were nowhere to be seen. Besides the addition of the lanterns and beaded curtains, the walls, table, chairs and bar stools had also been given a new coat of bright red paint—from the smell of it, exterior enamel.
    “Hunh, Lee’s been spiffing the place up,” I said. The wisdom of that was suspect in my mind. The underground isn’t what I’d call a haven for interior decorators. It reminds me of a living, breathing thing more than a place, and tends to rebel against any and all change. Think of bathing a cat: there’s a good chance it’ll bite you.
    Lee was nowhere to be seen in her white and red extravaganza, and barring a handful of sketchy patrons clinging to recessed corner booths at the back, the place was dead—no pun intended. Then again, any human practitioner with any respect for their lungs would be taking their business elsewhere tonight. Even most zombies wouldn’t put up with these fumes. While they didn’t have to breathe them in, the fumes still smelled bad.
    I’d have turned tail, but I needed brains from Mork and I wanted Lee Ling to see Cameron. And then there was the small problem of Nate, my prima donna roommate. Just maybe he’d actually show up.
    I caught Cameron covering his mouth. “You can just stop breathing and you’ll be fine,” I told him. “Trust me.”
    He frowned at me then gulped twice as the muscles in his throat and chest fought with the idea before all motion in his chest stopped.
    I focused on the smells filtering through my sleeve. Turpentine, paint…and was that tar? Yup. Paint, solvents, tar and next to no ventilation.
    I glanced at Cameron as he started to pull his hood up and shook my head. Best not to hide your identity in the underground. The zombies like to know whom they’re dealing with.
    “Well, what do you think?” I asked Cameron, my voice muffled by the sleeve of my jacket.
    He scanned the bar from one end to the other, and then his eye was caught by a red and gold poster taped to the wall behind the bar and obscured by a string of white lanterns. One of Lee Ling’s wards against evil spirits—a real one, loaded with Otherside. Unnerving if you were dead. “It’s harmless,” I said, half expecting an argument. I’d been telling Cameron an awful lot of things were harmless.
    Cameron only stared at the ward, hypnotized….
    “Cameron?” I said, touching his arm and taking one big step back, just in case.
    At the sound of my voice, he tore his eyes off the ward and turned a face, void of any recognition, towards me.
    Shit. I took another step back. I did not want to pull another globe tonight to undo Cameron’s bindings, unless I really had to. Tapping the barrier for a fifth time in one night meant I’d stand a good chance of knocking myself unconscious. Cameron took an unsure step towards me, and I reached behind me and found the back of a chair.
    That’d do. I readied to swing if Cameron didn’t snap out of it….Damn it, Lee was going to be pissed with me bringing her a dead body. Speaking of which, where the hell was she?
    Cameron’s chest began to move again as he picked up a scent. Sniffing the air, he took another slow step towards me. I lifted the chair and got ready to strike. No time to feel sorry for him now, I could do that later….Damn it, this was going to be messy.
    “Kincaid, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Lee’s low, throaty voice carried through the bar. Her voice had too rough a texture to be feminine, but it was refined with a hint of a British accent.
    It wasn’t much of a distraction, but it was enough. Cameron turned to stare at the petite silhouette standing behind the bar, backlit by the lamps in her office. The