That Voodoo You Do by Redford Jodi

Author:Redford, Jodi [Redford, Jodi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9781609282837
Publisher: Samhain
Published: 2010-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Thirty minutes later, Jemma started wondering just how insane she was for agreeing to take an afternoon joyride to a haunted plantation belonging to the deranged ghost voodoo queen who was jonesing for her blood. Judging from the rigid set of Griff’s jaw, he wasn’t too thrilled with the decision either.

His hot glare lifted to the rearview mirror for the hundredth time. “I still say Jemma should have stayed back at the coven house with either me or Logan. We could be sending her right into a trap.”

The backseat creaked as Clarissa shifted restlessly between Ms. Peach and Gloria. “Or maybe that’s precisely what Nettie wanted and expected us to do—separate. There’s more safety in numbers. You know that.”

Griff’s fists clenched around the steering wheel. Obviously his realizing the possibility didn’t necessarily equate with him going along with Clarissa’s plan like a good little boy scout. The fact that Griff was worried only skyrocketed Jemma’s concerns and added to the goose bumps taking over her skin. It didn’t help that the air blowing from the dashboard vent kept blasting her like an arctic front.

Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, she rubbed her arms. “Uh, neither of you are suggesting that Nettie sent that spirit to me, right?” Though now that she thought about it, what better way to set her up for a fall?

Griff relaxed his grip on the wheel and sent her a reassuring look. “More than likely she didn’t. But it’s still a good idea to be on our toes.”

They turned onto a narrow road that was bordered on either side by massive oaks dripping with stringy moss. The surrounding landscape held a wild, untamed quality, as if the land had decided to revoke any claim to civilization. After bumping along for approximately another half mile, they arrived in front of the dilapidated ruins of a plantation house. Large portions of the roof and exterior frame were charred and blackened, which explained the distinctive scent of smoky charcoal drifting through the vent.

Griff killed the engine and climbed from the SUV. Shaking off the creepy-crawly sensation skittering down her neck, Jemma clicked her seat belt free and shrugged off the restraint. She joined the others outside just as Logan roared up on his motorcycle.

Clarissa rolled her eyes. “There goes any hope of not waking the dead.”

Looking every inch his bad-boy self, Logan stored his helmet and dismounted the bike. “So where’s this infamous statue?”

“Back by the slave cabins.” Clarissa pointed to an area in the distance. “They’re roughly five hundred yards beyond that copse of snake grass.”

“Knew I should have brought my damn hikin’ boots.” Grunting, Logan started toward the overgrown path.

While the others trekked after Logan, Jemma stayed behind with Griff as he grabbed a shovel and the shotgun from the rear hatch of the Pathfinder. Her attention kept returning to the plantation house. Something about it fascinated and repelled her. She could almost feel the hot stares of unseen eyes, hear the seductive echo of a faint whisper in her eardrum.

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