“Then start over. Doing nothing gets you nowhere.” She rummaged through a drawer and pulled out two candles, one pink, one baby blue. “To channel Easter vibes.” She lit the wicks and set them on either side of the bowl before holding a crystal pendulum above it.
Destiny’s phone pinged again, and she closed her eyes. “I can’t handle any more bad news.”
“You better check it,” Crimson said. “Maybe someone found him.”
She swiped open the screen to find an email from Gabriela. The subject line readA few things you should know.
“Oh, dear lord. What else?” She opened the email and read the message aloud, “‘Dearest Destiny. In light of your recent debacle and your ridiculous miracle request, we have placed a new stipulation on your redemption. You may no longer use your magic until your miracle is approved.’”
Crimson stopped scrying and lowered the pendulum to the counter. “What’s ridiculous about saving Easter?”
“There’s more. ‘Your wings and halo have been bound. Whether it’s temporary or permanent is up to you. From this point forward, all your powers have been stripped. If you had read the angel handbook, you would know Article C-37 states that no angel may request a miracle to remedy their own mistake. I’m disappointed in you, Destiny. Fix it and do better or suffer the consequences. Warm regards, Gabriela.’”
“Warm regards, my tush.” She laid her phone face-down on the counter and pressed her fingers to her temples. “I knew that. I knew I couldn’t fix my own mistake with a miracle, but for a moment, I thought perhaps it wasn’t my fault. I’m not the one who gave him the cake, but it’s my fault, nonetheless. I left it out.”
Crimson pursed her lips, giving Destiny a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “It was a mistake. Your boss admitted that in the email. Intention is everything, and your intent was not for him to eat it.”
“Intention doesn’t matter. I’m basically mortal now, Pete still has amnesia, and who knows what will happen to him if Easter is ruined. I am an epic failure.”
“No, you’re not, and I don’t want to hear that cross your lips again.” She held the pendulum over the bowl again, swinging it in circles around the edge. “You might not be able to use your magic, but your friends can. We’re going to help you.”
The pendulum swung in tighter and tighter circles before it stopped in the center, buzzing like a vibrator with brand-new batteries.Plunk.It dropped into the water, and Crimson’s eyes widened.
“What does that mean?” Destiny asked.
Crimson rested her hands on the counter. “It means he’s here.”
CHAPTERSIX
“Witches.”Pete stood outside the gate of the dark blue, nineteenth-century Victorian and crossed his arms. Pots overflowing with ferns hung from the coven house’s eaves, and magenta bougainvillea blooms filled the flowerbeds in front of the structure, creating a welcoming vibe.
Still, he hesitated to enter.
“I promise you, if there is anyone in New Orleans who can help you remember, it’s Crimson.” Sophie, the blonde wolf shifter he’d found walking dogs in the French Quarter, stood by his side and rested a hand on his shoulder.
She had a calming, magical energy about her, and it almost felt as if she could talk to his rabbit directly, even while he was in human form. It was why he’d chosen to trust her, despite all logic. Her animal could have his for breakfast in a heartbeat, but she was the first and only shifter in the city his rabbit hadn’t forced him to flee from.
He’d scoured The Crescent City, searching for anyone like him, rabbit, hare, hell…he’d have settled for a nutria shifter…but all he’d found were predators.
The gator shifter behind the bar at Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop looked like he’d wanted to eat him, and the pair of bobcat sisters he’d found playing music in Jackson Square had enough menace roiling in their auras to make him do an about-face and duck into a praline shop.
When Sophie had approached him with a pack of chihuahuas, his mind had told him to bolt. The vicious little hellhounds normally would have turned into a yip-yapping frenzy at the first whiff of rabbit, but she’d kept them under control as she’d approached, and her demeanor had him spilling his guts—the parts he could recall—within the first two minutes of their conversation.
She patted his back and strode up the walk, stopping and turning when he didn’t follow. “What’s the matter, hon?”
“You’re sure you can’t point me to the local rabbit herd? Witches can mess with my mind as easily as vampires and angels.”
Sophie laughed and strode toward him, linking her arm through his. “If the vampires and angel you described are who I think they are, you can bet your fuzzy bunny balls they didn’t do this to you. Now, come on. The high priestess is a friend of mine.”
She tugged him up the walk, and he did his best not to drag his feet. Sophie rang the doorbell, keeping a tight hold on his arm. They waited and waited. When no one answered, she used the knocker, tapping the metal loop against the wood.
“They might all be at their day jobs.” She tried the knob, but it was locked. “Crimson should be here at least. She’s probably upstairs or something. I’ll call her.”
Pete eyed the deadbolt.I wonder…He pressed his palm to the lock, and the mechanism clunked as it disengaged. Sophie’s brow pinched as she watched him reach for the knob. It turned freely, and he pushed open the door.
“You look just as perplexed as I feel,” she said, cutting her gaze between him and the open door.
“I don’t know how I do it.” He shrugged.
