Hoodoo You Want: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Hoodoo and Bayou Series, #1

By Kathy Love

Mally Jourdain is a terrible witch. So bad, she might as well be human. Until she discovers a mortally wounded rougarou, one of the wolfmen of the bayous, in a New Orleans alleyway--and she heals him. With magic. Fun fact: witches cannot heal rougarous. Even the most powerful witches. But Mally did. 

 

And he ran off into the night--with not so much as a thank you. Rude.

 

Now, Mally's life is getting even weirder. She's being followed by a group of teenagers, who could be identical quadruplets with buck teeth. She's nearly abducted by a super creepy gator Shifter, and she's also stalked by greaser wannabes, who look like the rejects from a prison production of West Side Story. Things can't possibly get stranger. 

 

Or maybe it could, because the rougarou is watching her, too. What's that saying--no good deed goes unpunished?

 

On the upside, Mally suddenly seems to be a very important witch. 

 

On the downside, Mally suddenly seems to be a very important witch. 

 

She has no idea what all these creatures want from her. And she's not sure she is witch enough to find out.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathy Love
• Release date: Jun 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201823641

Book preview

Chapter One

W hat do you mean you aren’t going to the Samhain Ball? My mother unceremoniously dropped a serving dish onto the middle of the long dinner table, then scowled at me. Even scowling she was stunningly lovely. Blonde, blue-eyed, didn’t look a day over thirty-five. 

I focused on her latest culinary concoction, which sort of looked like...gumbo? Maybe? My mother insisted on cooking, even though she was terrible at it. My siblings and I had all begged her dozens of times to just conjure our family dinners. Or at least pick up a phone and order takeout, but she considered herself the Martha Stewart of witches and insisted her cooking was great. 

It really wasn’t.

Why wouldn’t you want to go? My stepdad, Jean-Rene said, as he sat down at the table. He avoided looking at Mom's latest cooking misadventure. The ball is the perfect place to meet a nice warlock. 

Jean-Rene and my mother married when I was five years old, so I considered him my dad. I had no idea who my real father was. My mom was a bit of a free-love, flower power, Green Witch before she met JR, as I and my sisters affectionately called him. 

I managed to not roll my eyes and shot my sisters a look for help. 

Violet, my oldest sister, gave me a pained frown back, while Iris still eyed my mother’s scary entree.

I’m not interested in meeting anyone, I said, not for the first time. 

JR was on a campaign to see all his stepdaughters married and happily settled down. Thus far, all of us had been abysmal failures in that department. Violet was more focused on her career as a pediatric doctor than dating. She was a Healer Witch, so she was very good at her career. And Iris, well, she seemed to be following in my mother’s footsteps. She was a Green Witch, too. And she had many male friends but showed no signs of settling down. Basically, Iris was a wild child, and I applauded her for it. You’re only young once. Even if witches happened to be young for a long time.

Mally-Cat, marrying a warlock is exactly what you need, JR said, which was actually his less than subtle way of saying, You’re a really crappy witch and marrying a warlock is your best bet of being accepted as part of the witch community.

There was my shameful truth. I was a seriously lame witch. On a scale from 1 to 5 stars in the magic department, I was ¼ of a star—and that might have been generous.

And yes, my stepdad called me Mally-Cat. My real name was Malachite. So, both names were equally unfortunate. My mother had named each of her daughters for the color of their eyes. Violet had purple eyes. Like genuinely purple eyes, which looked stunning with her bright auburn hair and pale skin. Iris had big, blue eyes and wavy blonde hair. She looked like an angel, despite her wild side. 

But aside from being tall and willowy, my sisters didn’t look anything like each other. I suspect they didn’t have the same dads. Like I said, Mom was all about the free love stuff. Green Witches also liked their weed. So, who knows, maybe one of my sisters was conceived at Woodstock, while Mom was one toke over the line.

And then there was me. I definitely had a different dad from my sister. I was short and thin with pitch black hair that I kept in a short pixie cut and my eyes were a vivid green. Hence Malachite. Mom couldn’t have gone with something marginally normal like Jade or even Emerald. Em was a good nickname. Even Emmy. I could work with those.

But I was Mally. Or Mally-Cat. So fun. Not.

Just then my parents’ front door opened, and my stepbrothers, Ghede (pronounced gah-day like an Australian greeting) and Sam—short for Samedi strolled in. They were both Hoodoo Warlocks like their dad and their names were taken from the Voodoo Loa. So unusual but at least they sort of made sense. I was named after a freaking rock. Was it any wonder my magic was pathetic?

Oh thank Goddess, Iris said as soon as she spotted the takeout bags in their hands. 

My mother eyed them irritated but leaned in to get a kiss on the cheek from both of them. My stepbrothers were gorgeous and charming. They were multiracial. Their mother was a Celtic Witch, and JR was a Hoodoo Warlock of Creole descent. All Hoodoo witches and warlocks were. My brothers were tall and muscular with beautiful golden skin. Think of the actor in that crazy popular Bridgerton show. Yep. They were total heartthrobs. 

They still had a relationship with their mom, Oonagh, who happened to be certifiable. In fact, she was so nuts, she moved into the house directly across the street from my parents. She was now married to a unicorn Shifter, who wasn’t all there either. 

Despite everyone having moved on, living so close to each other still made for awkward moments. Like the time their mother was angry that her sons came here to celebrate Yule before going to see her, so she cast a spell on my parents’ house, making it look like a bordello. Men rang the doorbell all hours of the day and night for a month. Or the time her unicorn Shifter husband, Silver—he didn’t luck out in the name department either—made a drunken pass at Iris at a street block party. JR made his horn disappear, leaving him nothing more than a glorified horse. The spell eventually wore off, but the damage was done. Losing a horn was very damaging to a unicorn Shifter’s sense of masculinity. So, the back-and-forth spell casting still happened quite regularly. Consequently, our street felt a bit like the Hatfields and McCoys. But hey, there was never a dull moment.

We just brought some food, because you are always cooking for us, Mama Fre. Ghede explained as he set his bag on the table. He and Sam referred to my mom as Mama Fre, short of her name, Freya.

It’s the least we can do, Sam added with a crooked smile.

My mother fell for their charm. Hook, line and sinker. She always did. I was just glad there was now something edible on the menu.

They took their usual seats, and everyone began digging into the food. We were basically the modern-day Brady Bunch. With magic thrown in.

I heaped my plate with the Chinese food my brothers brought. It happened to be from one of my favorite takeout places. And despite my small size, I could really eat. Witches were known for their high metabolisms, and at least I got that one witch trait. I did add a couple spoonfuls of my mother’s gumbo to be polite. Was it gumbo? I grimaced, trying to shake it off the serving spoon. I still wasn’t sure.

This... JR said, poking at the unidentifiable mixture with his fork. He clearly didn’t know what it was supposed to be either. This dish is really good, ma chere.

My mom smiled. My parents were a true love match. The fact that JR regularly ate my mom’s food proved that.

We chatted, getting caught up on each other’s week. Sunday dinners were our family ritual. 

So, Mally, why aren’t you going to the Samhain Ball? Iris asked around a bite of moo shu pork. 

I shot her a dirty look. Really? Was she actually bringing this up again? I thought I might actually be off the hot seat. No such luck.

You’re not going? Ghede said. 

She is going, my mom stated flatly.

JR nodded. He gave up on the maybe-gumbo and bit into an egg roll instead.

I was thinking I might not go either, Ghede said, almost as if he was trying the idea on for size.

JR stopped chewing and frowned at his son.

What? Mom exclaimed, her fork clattered on her plate as she dropped it to gape around the table at each of us. The Samhain Ball is the biggest event of the witch season in New Orleans. This ball is where all witches go to see and be seen. Not to mention, Baba Yaga is attending this year. So, you are all going. Period.

Baba Yaga was the head of all witches. The Hoodoo witches also had a leader of sorts—Papa Shashun, but Baba Yaga was still considered the grand poobah of the witch world. And you did not blow off Baba Yaga.

None of us were exactly children anymore. We were well into our forties, although we looked to be in our twenties. I was the youngest, and on a good day, I still got carded at bars and nightclubs. An irony since my day—or rather night—job was as a bartender. But even in our forties, we knew better than to argue with my mom. We were going. Debate over. 

Everyone ate in silence.

How are classes going, Ghede? Iris asked suddenly. Wow, my middle sister was on a roll this evening. She was hitting on all the sensitive topics.

Ghede had decided that he wasn’t interested in attending the