By Adrian Phoenix
FIRST IN a brand new sequence! “There can be occasions, woman, whilst your entire magic ain’t going to be adequate, occasions while it's going to appear to dry up like dust below the noonday sunlight, or perhaps make concerns worse. . . .” Kallie Rivi?re, a fiery Cajun hoodoo apprentice with a expertise for difficulty, unearths herself smack-dab in the course of a type of instances her mentor warned her approximately while she visits New Orleans to wait the Hecatean Alliance’s annual carnival: her hard-bodied conjurer hookup finally ends up useless in her blood-drenched mattress. And he used to be killed through whatever that Kallie could by no means dream of touching—the darkest of darkish juju, soul-eating juju—a black dirt hex which could were intended to kill her. Now Kallie has to take advantage of every piece of hoodoo wisdom and bayou-bred mojo she possesses to transparent her personal identify and locate the killer—even as that darkish sorcerer hunts Kallie and her buddies. yet Kallie’s look for the reality quickly leads her in a course she by no means anticipated—back domestic to Bayou Cypr?s Noir, and to Gabrielle LaRue, Kallie’s aunt, protector, and hoodoo mentor . . . who's taking a look progressively more like she simply could be the person who wishes Kallie useless.
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Extra info for Black Dust Mambo
Her mouth dried. A rotten-egg-and-burned-bone stench wafted into the air, mingling with the fresher odor of Gage's blood. She pushed the bloodstained material aside, revealing the hex in its blackest-of-black glory: a smudged two-foot-wide X traced across the mattress in deadly black dust. Snake scales glittered in the powder, a powder in all likelihood composed of graveyard dirt, black salt, ground sulfur and bones, and rattlesnake skin with magnetic sand, blood, and, most likely, pigeon shit added into the mix.
Maybe it shouldn't-a. " Nothing anyone could say would stitch together a grief-torn heart. Only time eroded the rough edges and smoothed them away, like a river over rocks. But also like a river, time deepened the crevices carved within by violent loss. By betrayal. " Kallie shut the memory down. Over and done with a helluva long time ago. "No, I ain't calling murder a mess, Layne Valin," Kallie said, uncurling her fingers from her palms. " She felt Belladonna staring at her. "You . . what was the word you just used?
Another nomad. Oh, and in the pixie nomad's other hand? A gun. Natch. Belladonna grabbed the woman by the arm and hauled her into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. " Belladonna snapped. She waved a hand at the gun. "Put that damned thing away. " The pixie's doe-eyed gaze skipped to the dead nomad on the bloodied bed, then to just-technically-dead Layne sprawled on the carpet in front of the bed. She sucked in a breath, and the color drained from her face when she took in the sight of a nearly naked Kallie kneeling beside him and trying to stiff-arm life back into him.