Up in Smoke: The Fox Witch, #2

By R.J. Blain

Driven by her awareness someone is out to destroy Tulsa, Jade takes Sandro into the heart of New Orleans to seek help from the Voodoo queens. If anyone can wipe out a choir hellbent on destruction, it's them.

 

Keeping Sandro on a short leash tests Jade in ways she never imagined possible. In a city where secrets rule, power is won through deceit, and life can be bought or sold at a queen's whim, they can't afford to make a single mistake. Should she fail to secure help in the South, those Jade loves will perish or become enslaved to a system that cares nothing for them.

 

Uncovering the truth about the storms leads them down the dark road of political intrigue, magic, and greed. Without help, the Alley will fall to the machinations of those desiring power at any cost.

 

The fight for Tulsa's survival has begun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen & Page Publishing
• Release date: Dec 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649640086

Book preview

ONE

That’s because only lunatics fly.

Friday, May 29, 2043.

Long Island, New York.

The East.

With my last infection conquered, there was no reason to delay heading to New Orleans. Sandro’s mother had helped pick a collar for her son, one he could tolerate for several months if needed. Thanks to the magic of a witch, the silvery platinum weighed less than even a feather. His tags underwent the same magic in the hours before we were due to catch a flight to the South.

We’d gone to the witch’s house, which was on the way to the airport, to make certain there would be no mishaps with Sandro’s collar and leash during our stay in New Orleans. The townhouse, in far better shape than most of its neighbors, radiated a welcoming aura, something the witch had likely cultivated over the years to put her clients at ease.

Her magic failed at its work. I blamed my unease on the whole idea of hurtling through the air at ridiculous speeds to get somewhere in a hurry, although the woman herself added to my anxiety.

The upcoming flight terrified me, which distracted me from the witch fiddling with Sandro’s new jewelry. The necklace featured brown, orange, red, and white stones meant to match my fur, arranged into the shape of a stylized fox. The design amused me, especially since I had a collection of six leashes, one of which had even more shiny stones set into the shape of foxes to make it clear he belonged to me.

Each leash had Sandro’s tag information attached near the clip, just in case anyone had any doubt who owned and held responsibility for the quadrant mage.

My fox loved the symbol and everything it represented. The whole mess irritated me to the point I struggled to keep from chittering.

My fox tolerated the old witch being near Sandro better than I did.

She kept touching his throat to work her magic.

I wanted to draw Peace and cut her hands off.

Rather than inflict violence on the woman for doing her job, I kept a close eye on her, reminded myself I hated everything about the courtesan system, and that I loathed how I’d have to keep the hot ass bounty hunter chained to me most of the time we were in New Orleans.

The truth that I didn’t mind Sandro being kept close drove me crazier than the witch, who fondled a set of three pale talismans while she hovered over him.

I suspected the idea he might never be able to remove the collar if something happened to me bothered me more than it did him. He’d told me repeatedly he wanted to see New Orleans in its full glory and put an end to the choir assaulting Tulsa.

The witch’s warnings insisted on haunting me. If I perished or failed to return to the East, he would be stuck wearing my collar for the rest of his life.

Sandro didn’t mind the risks.

I minded, but I kept my mouth shut about it.

It took work, but I forced myself to focus on our goal of hunting for the choir and eradicating its singers before heading back to Tulsa to find out what the asshole-in-charge, one Benedict Mansfield, had done. Just the thought of the man, who’d opened hunting season on hybrids like me, put my fox on edge and made her want to destroy something.

Considering our current situation, my fox preferred the idea of tearing off Sandro’s suit.

I couldn’t blame her. I wanted to tear him out of his clothes, too.

The longer I hung around him, the harder it became to ignore those impulses.

With my attention snapping every which way, I expected to get a severe case of whiplash before the witch finished setting the enchantments that would keep Sandro safely collared for however long we stayed in New Orleans. The queens would need a lot of luck getting it off him.

Maybe New Orleans rested upon the equivalent of a magical amplification zone, but they’d have to bring out the big guns if they wanted to bust through the witch’s magic.

Her workings would be amplified in New Orleans, too.

Miss Moretti, finish securing the collar around his throat, the woman ordered.

I doubted I’d ever get used to someone calling me a Moretti, but the courtesan documentation had changed my last name on me. As my parents had sold me into slavery in the first place, I didn’t mind ditching Tamrin, although it would take a lot of getting used to.

Whenever someone said Miss Moretti, I looked for Sandro’s mother.

Rather than curse or chitter, I picked up the delicate necklace with its jewels shaped like a fox and the small tags dangling beneath it, designed to resemble wards against evil rather than a claim of ownership. I clasped it into place, checked to make sure it was secure, and stepped away.

The witch began her next working, which would make the closed clasp impervious to harm and ensure only I could open it.

Prick your finger with this and put a drop of your blood on the clasp, she instructed, holding out a crystal needle.

I obeyed, lightly touching a single drop of blood to the platinum clasp.

She muttered a few words, and the entire necklace glowed with a pale light. The stones in the fox design continued to shimmer as though some fire burned within them.

There. It is finished. Removing the collar is simple enough when you are done with your business. Miss Moretti can use any clear or cloudy quartz in the East and touch it to the clasp. She will say the appropriate words, and it will open.

I almost snorted at the witch’s deft dodging of the truth. What I said to free him didn’t matter. Intent mattered, and the collar only cared about the type of stone and who held it. I could tell him he needed to get naked, and as long as I wanted him out of the collar, it would open.

I kept a close eye on the witch, rubbing my pricked finger against my thumb while I waited to make certain she wouldn’t do something to Sandro.

If she did, I would be ready to stop her. Maybe she was a witch, possibly a storm witch on top of whatever other powers she controlled, but if she tested me, one of us wouldn’t be walking away. As I had a city to save, the person escaping the confrontation alive would be me.

Storm witches worried sane people in the East, but I wasn’t one of those people.

I didn’t care storm witches could turn the weather against their enemies—or suffocate those who annoyed them. While she could use her talisman magic to change metals to have a lighter weight, I could poison every drop of her blood before she could suck the air out of my lungs.

She minded her own business, backed away from Sandro, and bowed to Stephani Moretti. It is done, ma’am.

Thank you, Alisia. Your work, as always, is impressive.

The witch smiled. You’ve picked a fine vixen for your house. She is already protective.

I scowled.

Moody, too, she added with a grin.

She’s been many winters without a proper partner, and foxes adore children. I’m sure she’ll settle down by spring next year or so, Sandro’s mother replied with a smirk implying she was well aware of my general state of mind. How does it feel, Sandro?

I’m going to end up forgetting I’m wearing this thing, he admitted, doing his best to stare down at the gem fox. It’ll work. Are you going to bother telling me what kind of gemstones these are yet?

Diamond, of course. What else for my son? Good orange and red diamonds are such a pain in the ass to get, although the brown ones weren’t nearly as bad, especially in the small sizes needed for that design. At least the clear stones didn’t break my bank account. You are never allowed to throw that out, mark my words, boy. That’s a family heirloom now.

I bet. Do not breathe a word of how much that cost. At a minimum, I might pass out.

While the infection, stress, and being overwhelmed had taken the blame for the incident, not long after the Moretti family had purchased me, I’d done just that. Unfortunately, I’d done it while going up the steps of their Long Island residence. Fortunately, Sandro had been behind me and had kept me from bashing my head open.

I’d stayed down and out long enough for the family doctors to converge and discover I needed to be eating at least twice what I was.

Foxes needed a lot of calories, and I hadn’t even shapeshifted since I’d been purchased.

It cost less than you think. I had held a huge favor over a friend for years. My friend owns and operates a chain of jewelry stores. He designed the piece and acquired the stones. I no longer have that huge favor, but my son has a beautiful necklace that allows him to enter New Orleans. Everyone is happy. Most importantly, Marco is very happy with me for not spending a fortune, and I plan to add a little one to the chaos should nature continue to cooperate with me.

Sandro raised his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. The sons you already have are bad enough for your blood pressure, Mom.

I’m really hoping for a daughter this time.

You’re going to end up with another son, Sandro warned his mother. But I’ll make you happy with me and suggest to Dad that one last terror demon running around the Moretti household might be a good idea.

I will repay you for that once you’re back from New Orleans, his mother promised.

Speaking of which, we have a flight to catch, Sandro said, holding out his arm to me. Do you want us to take the car and you hitch a ride home with Alisia, Mom?

My fox urged me to accept his invitation, which I did.

Sandro’s mother shook her head. I’ll drive you. Marco’s already at the airport. He met up with a pilot friend who won’t be flying again for a few days and needed a lift. They’re waiting for me. We’ll stick around until you’re after security, not that it’ll take long for you to make it through. It’s quiet at the airport today. Fridays are usually busy, but it’s after the morning rush but before the evening chaos because of the long hauls to Europe.

That’s because only lunatics fly, I muttered.

Sandro’s mother laughed. There are a lot of in-quadrant flights, Jade. It’s perfectly safe. You’re more likely to be in a car crash or a train derailment than a plane crash. It’s the boundary crossing that’s a bit iffy, and there hasn’t been a boundary crash in years. You’ll be fine. Sandro, catch her if she passes out again.

I caught her the first time. I’ll catch her again if needed, the quadrant master promised. I’m sure everything will be fine. I’ll even make certain I feed her properly.

Fool, I muttered under my breath. After the doctors had realized I needed to eat more to keep up with my metabolism, I’d gotten showered with treats and larger portions at every meal.

Years on the run had taught me to be grateful for what I had and not ask for more, so the Morettis went out of their way to make sure more appeared on my plate as needed.

They held hope I might one day learn to ask.

All I held was doubt.

Sandro chuckled and guided me to the back of the family car his mother used when in Long Island, holding the door open for me. You’ll like the airport, I promise.

I slid inside, and to spare Sandro from having to circle the vehicle, I scooted across the seat. "I will? What am I going to like about sitting around waiting for our impending deaths? There are trains. We could have taken a train. I would have been all right with walking. Your mother thinks you love walking everywhere. I do rather enjoy walking from place to place, and I would have no problem accompanying you on this long ground-based adventure."

With a low chuckle, he climbed in and buckled up. This is faster, and the queens wanted us there as soon as you’re able. They’re edgy. When I spoke to Ryleigh after you fainted, she confirmed there is a lot of choir activity in Florida. They’ve already eliminated one choir causing trouble, but it’s not the one you saw.

Mansfield has several choirs in the South stirring up trouble in the Alley? I growled, checking to make certain Alisia couldn’t overhear our discussion. The witch spoke to Sandro’s mother for a few moments before the women exchanged kisses on their cheeks. I swear, if I could just lure him into a dark alley for five minutes, I’d solve a lot of problems.

I’d love to help you with that, but the timing isn’t right. First, we need to do our best to save what we can of Tulsa. Because of you, a lot of people have escaped the city. It won’t save everybody, though. The reports coming out of the Alley right now are fairly bleak.

I frowned, as Sandro hadn’t even hinted there was trouble in the Alley during my recovery. The reasons he might hide that from me made a great deal of sense. Had I known the trouble had intensified since I’d been shot, I would have gone back to do what I could.

I couldn’t help anyone if I died due to being stupid.

Jade? Sandro considered me, and he frowned. Are you all right?

I really want to lure him into a dark alley and beat the life right out of him, I muttered. My fox urged me to chitter a warning so he understood I meant business, but I restrained her.

There’d be a time and a place for him to learn my furry secret, but I wanted to hold my shapeshifting close to my chest until I had no choice. What he didn’t know, he couldn’t expose to the wrong person.

Me, too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you there is more trouble in Tulsa. I didn’t want to worry you, and I knew you’d want to head back to the Alley to help. Oh, by the way, I found out this morning that your little friend from the bar was picked up by a good hunter, and Mom and Dad are going to pick her up in Albany after they drop us off at the airport.

They found Lora?

She’s a little worse for wear after being on the streets since making it to the East, but she’s fine. She’s a little scared, but that’s to be expected. Mom and Dad will take care of her, and depending on the situation, she’ll either be hired by the family as a live-in something-or-other or put up with a family wanting to adopt kids. She might go to one of my uncles or aunts. She won’t become a Moretti unless one of my brothers or cousins closer to her age takes a fancy to her and she takes a fancy to him, but she’ll be taken care of.

A live-in something-or-other? I asked. What does that mean?

Student, really. Mom’s going to flip when she finds out there’s no real education out in the Alley.

I winced. Yeah, there really isn’t. There’s no way to safely run a school. Sometimes teachers run tutoring sessions for basic reading, writing, and math, but a lot of people are generally illiterate there.

Which makes the contracting system even worse, since they can’t confirm for themselves what they’re getting into. Sandro flexed his hands and muttered curses. In any case, Lora will be fine. Since you like her, Mom will probably groom her to become your secretary.

My what?

Secretary.

What use could I possibly have for a secretary? I blurted, twisting my ears back.

Well, Moretti women often find themselves kidnapping people as part of bounties, and your secretary would handle most of the paperwork so you don’t have to. Lora would also check your schedule, make sure you don’t miss anything important, and otherwise be your right-hand woman through the tricky parts of high society life. Sandro grinned and leaned towards me before whispering, I have a secretary, and he’s one of the best presents my mother ever gave to me. He’s an old fart of a man who hates paperwork more than life itself, so he does it right the first time every time. He loves I wander around a lot, so all he has to do is make sure nothing goes wrong while I’m gone. His son is being taught to take over, and he’s much like his father.

This secretary was a present from your mother?

Sandro chuckled. Honestly, he used to be Mom’s secretary, but he wanted to retire from the big leagues, so he’s mine now. He gets paid the same to do a quarter of the work. Once we take over, he’ll help train our primary secretaries. Mom will beg him to help settle Lora. He loves kids, and he’ll be a grandpa type figure for her while she gets used to being a valued member of the Moretti household.

I relaxed at the idea of Lora having a grandpa, a good one who would like her. I had grandparents, but my parents were chips off their blocks.

I wasn’t a chip off any block in my family, and I liked it that way.

She’s going to have a hard time adapting, I predicted. She’s worked since she turned seven. No choice in the Alley. We had her in the kitchen before she could handle serving food in the bar.

That’s all right. Mom’s used to workaholics. She’ll make sure Lora feels like she’s contributing. I will make sure she’s aware there may be problems, though. Do you know if Lora has any other family in the Alley?

Twister got them, I whispered.

The twisters got a lot of people every year.

I’ll make sure Mom knows so she doesn’t ask about it. Sandro sighed. Twisters have killed a lot of people there.

Not a question, but a statement, one filled with regret over what he—no, we—hadn’t been able to prevent. Yet. Yeah. I think my biggest regret is my last landlord. I’d only met him once, then a twister got him, but he’d been one of the good ones. I didn’t need to meet him more than once to learn that.

And if we’re right, Mansfield is why he’s dead.

I stretched my fingers and splayed my hand on my legs so I wouldn’t fall prey to the urge to punch something, like the back of the seat in front of me. If I find proof he’s behind the choirs, I’ll kill him myself. I’ll enjoy every minute of it.

My fox approved.

If we find proof, I’ll help you, Sandro promised.

Friday, May 29, 2043.

Newark, New Jersey.

The East.

The airport had a candy store, and Sandro set me loose in it. I appreciated the laughter in his voice when he said, Pretend New Orleans doesn’t have candy.

New Orleans had some candy, but in reality, it was worth its weight in gold and the queens controlled the import of sugar and alcohol. Hyperactive or drunk people had a tendency to start singing, and when hyperactive or drunk people started singing, magic happened—chaotic, destructive magic.

I don’t think that bag I checked is going to be big enough for a candy stash, Sandro. I eyed an entire wall of chocolate truffles. I would need at least a hundred of them, maybe two hundred. Then I’d need the sour sucker candies, which made my fox swoon as a general rule.

There’s a luggage store next door, and my current plan is to purchase you a set to fill with anything your heart desires from the stores while we wait for our flight.

As we were two hours early and five minutes away from our gate, I ran a high risk of being spoiled before taking our flight. But how will we get the bags onto the plane? We already checked our luggage.

Airports confuse me, but confusion beat worrying about the perils of flying through the boundary zones.

You can check additional luggage at the gate, he informed me. Get a basket, and once you fill that, I should be back with your new luggage so you can fill it up with your sweet treasures.

Are you getting any candy?

Absolutely. I’m just using you to make sure I have a sufficient supply for this trip. He pointed at the wall featuring lollipops. I love those, and they’re a great tool for preventing any accidental music. I can’t sing with my mouth full of sweet or sour goodness. Lollipops are tough to get in New Orleans. You’ll need to declare our candy stashes when we arrive, but considering you’re being welcomed by at least one queen, our loot will be fine.

Do you think we’ll really be in New Orleans for six months?

I have no idea how long we’ll be in New Orleans, but after six months, we can make an excuse to head home for a while before bringing in a new stash of candy and other things we can’t easily get there.

I couldn’t remember being in want of anything while in New Orleans, but I’d been with Ryleigh most of the time. Before Ryleigh had scooped me off the streets through snagging me by the tail and dragging me off at her whim for a proper education, I’d scavenged.

Scavengers didn’t care about candy, chocolate, or luxuries. Scavengers cared about survival.

Tulsa took the cake for its challenges, but New Orleans came a close second.

Okay. A six month supply of candy. What else will we need?

Books.

Ryleigh has a good library, and she doesn’t mind sharing it, I informed him.

"Yes, but the queens don’t have access to recent releases, so we will bring a present of books for her library. New Orleans hasn’t gotten anything new in a year due to shipment difficulties. Booksellers keep forgetting there are people in New Orleans who’d love to buy books. The supply chain for books just doesn’t go there often. While I didn’t ask Ryleigh, the queen who was at the auction gave me a call to check in on you, and I asked her for recommendations to smooth things out. I stated I didn’t want you to become stressed missing some social etiquette. I’m guessing Ryleigh wanted to test me and used this other queen to do it. I didn’t get her name. She didn’t offer it, I didn’t ask."

Right. Smart move. We’ll buy a bunch of new releases for her then. Okay. Anything else?

Ryleigh loves melon liquor. Melon liquor isn’t sold in New Orleans. We’ll get her a collection of it, and that’ll ride in the cabin with us.

Ah-ha. The mystery of why neither one of us had anything more than our phones and a wallet made sense. Are our laptops going to be safe in the cargo area?

They will, but there’s a store that sells laptops here. We’re buying four of them. They’ll go into the cabin with us as well.

The airport sells laptops? I blurted.

They’re gifts for Ryleigh, but yes. You can buy phones and cameras here, too. If there’s a problem with our laptops, Mom will pay horrendous amounts of money to ship us in new ones.

E-readers?

At the bookstore. We’ll be getting a few of those as well. Ryleigh has her own technology, but it will show we’re considerate of the challenges currently faced in New Orleans. The collection of batteries will go in with our checked luggage.

Had I been in charge of this operation, I would have just shown up, I warned him.

Sandro laughed, and he smiled at me. I know. I told the queen I spoke to that, and she laughed, too. I think I won her approval. I’ll make sure you can roam to your heart’s content, but I’ll also make sure we roam comfortably and in style—without offending the queens we’re trying to get to help us.

This isn’t going to be easy, I warned him.

The things worth doing never are.

TWO

I can’t believe you slept through that.

Saturday, May 30, 2043.

New Orleans, Louisiana.

The South.

Thanks to boundary conditions and a mechanical problem with the plane, our flight was delayed by eight hours. The boundary conditions worried me more than the mechanical problem.

Mechanical problems could be fixed—and were fixed before we were allowed to board.

The boundary conditions could kill us along with everyone else. My worries grew to a stomach-gnawing fear, and Sandro made a point of holding my hand during the wait whenever I started to fidget or turn my ears back.

My fox appreciated his touch, and I found his presence kept me from bolting to the general safety of the expressways surrounding the airport. While playing in traffic on a busy highway hardly counted as safe, at least I understood how cars worked and what happened if I were to be hit by one.

Somehow, we survived the flight, touching down in New Orleans at a horrific two-thirty in the morning.

While the flight attendants had been prepared for the boundary crossing, blitzing through had left just about everyone on board sicker than hell and regretting the choice to fly rather than take the train. Sandro had