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Nikki groaned. "I tried to add him to my collection."
"The thing with the hair?" Dahlia asked.
Nikki just nodded. "Yeah. The easiest way to explain it is to think of a voodoo doll. It's a representation of a person, bound with something of their body. Hair is easiest, but blood, semen, and even spit will work. Piss and shit, but I prefer not to use those." She huffed to make it clear what she thought of that. "You see, I learned what little I knew about magic from the African slaves imported to Barbados when I was a kid. They practiced Obeah, and while it wasn't hidden, it also wasn't really explained. Once I was accused of being a witch, convicted, and left to rot in jail until one of the guards killed me - well, I assumed I was one. So I began using the spells I'd seen, making up the pieces I didn't know, then inventing new ones from rumors I heard."
"Mostly from African slaves," Dahlia guessed. "And it works?"
"Oh yeah," Nikki said just as they reached the road where the fair was being held. "I make a doll for the lovers I'm interested in, summon them when I need to be topped up, and let them think that I'm just some easy slut, willing to pamper him - or her - when they need attention. They come to me, they leave happy, and there's no reason for the Inquisition to ever notice me."
"Nice," Dahlia said.
And then they were there. The craft fair wasn't a big thing, but there were at least a dozen "stalls" offering things for sale. Some were just tables, while others had elaborate setups. The pair walked between them, looking over bead necklaces and original oil paintings. Soon enough, they found a table offering wooden crosses meant to be hung on the walls.
They came in all shapes and sizes. Most had been painted. Some were made of metal. All of them were pretty, and Nikki could feel her skin crawling at the proximity. It didn't hurt, but it also wasn't the sort of sensation she could miss.
"How many are we getting?" Dahlia asked as she picked up the first.
That was all the woman running the booth needed to hear. "I have more I haven't unpacked, if you're looking for something in particular?"
"Do you have a Celtic cross?" Nikki asked. "I have a friend who collects them."
The woman's brow furrowed. "Is that the one with the circle?" She held up a finger and turned around, bending over to dig in one of the boxes she'd been talking about.
Dahlia, however, kept looking at what was on display. She pulled out a turquoise one with flowers painted on it, a white one with gold accents, and two in earth tones with country-style art. Nikki moved to the other end of the table and started looking for more. Some were no bigger than her hand. Others were about a foot tall. They ranged from simple stained wood to ornate things that looked like they'd be perfect in a child's room.
"Found it!" the woman said, turning around to hold up a black Celtic cross with red Celtic knots painted on it. "It's a little more expensive than the others, though."
"How much?" Nikki asked.
"Well, the little ones are eight dollars each. The medium are ten, and the large are fifteen. This one is twenty."
"Do you have a bag?" Dahlia asked. "Because we want a few."
The woman smiled. "Is canvas ok? It has my Etsy store address on it, and I usually charge two bucks for them, but I'll throw it in for free if you're buying five or more."
"Oh, we're getting a lot more than that," Dahlia said, gesturing to her selections. "All of these, whatever Nikki thinks we should get, and definitely the Celtic one."
ChapterTwenty-Eight
NIKKI
Dahlia slung the bag filled with crosses over her shoulder like it was the fanciest handbag in the world. Thankfully, she kept it on the opposite side from Nikki, but it still made the witch's skin crawl. It shouldn't, though. Yet the sad truth was that she must need more practice if merelyknowingthey were there made her this uncomfortable.
But since they had what they'd come for, the girls headed back, deciding to stop in at Ma's, the diner Nikki had found when she'd first arrived. The plan was to see if they could catch some guy's eye and maybe get a quick meal out of it. Even better, when they asked for a table this time, no one batted an eye. It had only been a week, but it seemed the eidolon were good at insinuating themselves into a community. They had to be. It was how they survived.
Dahlia pushed the bag of crosses into the corner just as the waitress arrived to take their order. Oddly, that little extra distance was just enough to let Nikki relax. Her skin stopped crawling like she was covered in ants, so she let out a heavy sigh. The waitress gave her a confused look, which was when she realized what she'd done. Thankfully, it was easy enough to cover for.
"I am starving!" Nikki said. "Can I have the fried chicken and a sweet tea?"
"Sure can." Then she got Dahlia's order, promised their food would be right out, and hurried off to the next table.
Dahlia immediately leaned closer, dropping her voice. "Are you honestly that hungry?"
"No," Nikki promised. "It's the bag. I can feel it. It's as if the mere fact that I know what is in there is enough to make me react, even though the sight of the cross doesn't really bother me. I can't imagine what Roarke goes through."
"It's mind over matter. The symbol doesn't bother us, but our knowledge of what it represents does." Then Dahlia looked down at the bag, a moment of confusion on her face. "So, is it every cross?"
"Mhm," Nikki agreed. "Even back in my day, priests held up the cross to warn off demons. Symbols have power, Dahlia. That idea buries itself so deeply that it's hard to forget, even though I didn't start or end as a Christian. I still got the indoctrination."
