Caliste & Gerard

Caliste

Don't come closer. Turn back. Turn back.

Caliste watched as the young couple wandered along the darkening street. She glanced around at the other shopkeepers. They had paused to watch the strangers too.

Ordinaires in the witches' square wasn't rare—it was New Orleans after all, but these humans had wandered far from the typical voodoo tourist path.

What business did they have with the covens? Caliste bit her bottom lip. Ordinaires meddling in magic never ended well.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow move toward the unsuspecting pair. It shifted, its white slants for eyes flashing as it crept along.

Caliste's stomach clenched with dread. Babet's familiar. Which meant the old crone was lurking somewhere nearby.

Tying up the last threads on her gris-gris charms, she hung the spelled amulets from her shop sign and hurried to catch up with Mdima before it approached the couple.

The shadow creature spotted her right away, yellowed fangs bared in a warning to stay away. Caliste glared back. It was trying to claim the ordinaires for its master.

Not happening.

Quick as she could, she threw a spell around the young man and woman. They stopped in their tracks and turned to her.

Everyone was watching now. Caliste glanced at the shadows. Mdima had disappeared. No doubt to hunt down Babet to tattle on her.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach. She'd have to deal with the old witch later.

"We're looking for the shaman. Can you tell us which shop is his?" the man spoke first.

Though he tried to put on a brave face for the cowering woman by his side, Caliste could sense his fear. The magic on the square swirled alongside of his heightened emotions, ready to feed from them.

Poor things. Ordinaires were always afraid, but if they knew—truly knew—of the dark things that lived in secret, they'd never leave home.

"The shaman?" the man prompted once more.

His eyes skittered along the street and widened, realizing they had a sizable audience now.

Caliste shook her head, her spelled beads on her braid swaying at the movement. "Which shaman? There are many. And this isn't a place for... tourists. You shouldn't be here."

The woman at his side peered at her, clutching the man's arm tighter. "I told you."

He shot her an exasperated look and turned back to Caliste. "We were given this address." He held out a slip of crumpled paper to her.

Rue de l'Ombre—Shadow Street.

Caliste's blood turned to ice. There was no shaman that lived at that address.

She met the man's stare. "Who gave you that?"

He shoved the paper back into his pocket and frowned at her. "A friend. Do you know how to get there or not?"

"Thank you, Caliste. I'll help them from here." Babet's rich voice called from behind.

Caliste stiffened. The older witch hobbled up with her cane, her shadow familiar on her heels. Its flashing white eyes turned to Caliste, teeth shifted into what looked like a smug smile. Or as smug as it could manage being an otherworldly creature.

Caliste tracked Babet's slow and careful movements. What was the hag up to now?

"They are looking for a shaman. Not a witch." Caliste gave her a pointed look.