Dark Dreams for Prosper Read online

  Dark Dreams For Prosper

  The Ninth Babet & Prosper Novella

  A Longer Lunch Hour Read

  By Judith Post

  Copyright © 2014

  Babet lay, spooned into Prosper's body, listening to his uneven, quick breaths. He stirred and moaned. His body tensed, aroused. She grinned. Was her bear shifter dreaming about her? How delicious. She rolled to face him, pressed her forehead to his. Damn, she loved this man! Her hand skimmed the hard muscles of his torso. Sexy personified. He groaned, and she pressed her lips to his. No response—too deep a sleep. She studied his face—high forehead, a determined chin, recessions on each cheek that deepened to dimples when he grinned. Every girl's fantasy—and he was hers. She rubbed her hand against his cheek, feeling all gooey inside, and he turned his face from her.

  A splash of cold water. Not what she'd hoped for, but she knew how to get his attention. She rose to her knees and straddled him, bending to press her bare breasts against his hard chest. He shifted, nearly toppling her over.

  What the hell? Babet scrambled to her side of the bed, knelt to gaze down at him. His lips curled in a smile of appreciation. For whom? What was he seeing in his fantasy slumber? If it was some calendar girl who'd been airbrushed to perfection, she'd zap his nether regions until they didn't work. She nibbled his ear. Nothing. Patted his arm. No response. "Prosper!" Not even a flinch.

  This was more than sleep. She strode to his side of the king-sized mattress, pressed on his shoulder, and shook him. "Wake up!"

  He moaned. "No, Nola, I have to go."

  Rage burned through her brain, sizzled her veins, and she fought to calm herself. This was only a dream. She wasn't being fair. Still, who the hell was Nola?

  "Prosper, wake up!" No lovey-dovey tone. She meant business. He still slept. She stalked to the attached bathroom, grabbed her spritzer bottle for plants, and spritzed the hell out of him. Oops! The setting wasn't on fine mist. Squirts to the face. Served him right.

  Prosper woke up, sputtering. He glared. "What did you do that for?"

  "Who's Nola?" He'd better have a damned good answer.

  He scrubbed a hand across his handsome face. The face she used to love. "What? Why are you mad at me? I was asleep!"

  "You're the one who wanted to live together. Then you insisted we bond. For Hecate's sake, our ceremony was only a month ago! Who the hell is Nola?"

  Prosper frowned, trying to concentrate. "I know her, but I can't remember how. Why?"

  "From a case? A crime you solved? You called out her name." Babet's witch senses were tingling. Something felt off.

  "I called her name?" Prosper swung his legs over the side of the bed. Strong legs. Everything about her Were rippled with power. He rubbed his forehead, searching for a memory. "No, I don't think I've ever met her."

  Babet sat down beside him, took his hand in hers. The ring she'd bespelled to protect him felt warm. It had been working hard to fight some kind of magic. Her anger switched to concern. "Think, Prosper. This might be important."

  "She's beautiful, but she's not real, is she?"

  A knot tightened in Babet's stomach and she recognized it for what it was—jealousy. She'd never considered herself the jealous type, but then she'd never worried that Prosper would stray. He was a Were. He'd chased her, she hadn't chased him. Weres stayed true to their mates. But that didn't mean their attention didn't wander.

  "Are you interested in someone else?" she asked. "Do you think you made a mistake, chose me too hastily?"

  He stared. "Are you nuts? You're all I ever wanted."

  Good answer. "Then who's Nola?"

  He frowned. "She comes to me when I'm asleep."

  A chill slid through her body. Was some dream wraith messing with her man? "Has she come to you before?"

  He heard the edge in her voice and turned to her. "I think so. I'm not sure."

  "Does she stay longer and longer each time?"

  He scraped a hand through his thick, brown hair—the same shade as the brown bear he shifted into. She loved soft brown. He sighed, frustrated. "It's all too hazy. I don't know."

  Babet swallowed the anger that threatened to strangle her. Not at Prosper this time. Damn wraiths! They had plenty of men who loved to fantasize in dreams. Nola had no business choosing someone who was taken. "Is she wispy, like smoke in your dreams? Beautiful, but see-through?"

  He blinked. "Yeah, now that you say it, I can picture her."

  Babet felt like punching something, maybe even Prosper, but this wasn't his fault. Besides, if she punched him, she'd only hurt her hand. "A dream wraith's visiting you."

  "What the hell is that?"

  "A woman made of smoke and dreams who can fulfill your every fantasy, but only while you sleep." How did a witch compete with that? Babet had magic, but not fantasy on her side.

  He flashed a wicked grin. "You mean, I'll have you while I'm awake and Nola while I sleep?"

  "In your dreams." She meant the entendre.

  His chocolate brown eyes sparkled. He was amused. "I'm a lucky guy."

  "Not for long. Wraiths are one-night stands. They take their pleasure, then move on."

  A scowl. "But she's come to me before, and she keeps beckoning me to follow her."

  Not the typical agenda. "Where does she want to take you?"

  He frowned, searching for a memory. "We're always in a meadow, and she quirks her finger to lead me down a path, but I don't follow her. And she gets aggravated."

  Babet felt the warmth of the ring again. Their rings matched with the same protection spells embedded in each. She touched a finger to her band of gold, just as warm as Prosper's. She couldn't use silver, not for a Were. Her worries expanded. He'd been using his ring to connect to her. Bless his shifter heart, he'd been fighting to return to her. "How often has Nola visited you?"

  He shook his head. "Every once in a while, off and on. It seems like it's been for a while now, but I can't be sure."

  Babet clenched her hands into fists. Greedy, little wraith. Nola wouldn't take no for an answer. "But she has her fun, then leaves?"

  Prosper's eyebrows dipped into a scowl. "We never do anything. Well, we haven't for a long time."

  "And she still comes?" Wraiths didn't drop in for witty conversations. Babet's ring vibrated. Nervous magic danced through her nerve endings. "I've heard rumors of a wraith gone wrong. She pulls men into her world and won't let them leave."

  "How long ago was that?"

  He wasn't going to like her answer. "When I was little, but wraiths are like us. They don't die."

  Prosper's shoulders stiffened. "So she could still be around?"

  Babet nodded.

  "And once she took them? What then?"

  "They were hers, lost to the world unless she released them."

  Prosper let out a long breath. "Do you think the wraith gone wrong is Nola?"

  "Beats me, but Nola's not doing what most wraiths do."

  Thumps sounded at the bedroom door. Morgana banged against it, wanting inside with them. Prosper rose to let the snake in. He bent to stroke the boa's head to reassure her before returning to Babet in all his naked glory. He carefully asked, "What would Nola do to me in her world?"

  "If we can't stop her…she'll have her way with you. If you're lucky, she'll lust after you for always." She raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. "I would." But that wasn't going to happen, because if Nola pressed her luck by stealing a witch's mate, Babet would hunt her down.

  "That's lucky? Living in a netherworld with a smoke girl?"

  "Sometimes a wraith claims a man for a few months or a few years, and then tires of him."

  "What does that mean?" Prosper's hands cramped into fists. "What happens to the
real me? Is my body just left behind? Do I lie somewhere, unconscious?"

  Babet nodded. "There have been men whose bodies wasted away while the wraith kept them in her world. If it's only for a few days or weeks, they might slip back inside their bodies and survive, but most of the time…."

  He grunted. "If my body dies while I'm in Dreamville?"

  "Then Nola and I will both lose you."

  "Shit." He took a deep breath. "You're a witch. You can stop her, right? I chose you. I want you."

  Babet's heart swelled. He was hers, but she hesitated before answering. "I've never dealt with a wraith. There has to be a way, but I don't know what it is. I'll visit Mom and Hennie later today." Her mother led River City's coven. Hennie knew and sold every magic potion known to witches. Between them, surely they could figure out something. And if that failed, she'd visit the women at the voodoo village. They worked with spirits for their magic.

  Prosper looked at the clock. Not quite four in the morning. He glanced at his pillow, splashed with water. Then he glanced at the ring she'd magicked on his wedding finger. "If your ring can't protect me, I'm afraid to go to sleep."

  "You can't stay awake twenty-four hours a day. We'll let Morgana sleep in our room. She sensed the wraith. If Nola returns, she'll warn us."

  "You couldn't wake me last time."

  She nodded to the spritzer bottle on her nightstand. "Water did."

  Prosper nodded. He bent to stroke the snake again. "Will you watch over me, Morgana?"

  The boa curled on the floor on his side of the bed. Morgana might be Babet's familiar, but she loved them both, and it was mutual. Morgana's protectiveness had saved each of them more than once.

  Even knowing that she was there, and that she'd wake them if the wraith returned, Babet couldn't sleep. Neither could Prosper. By the time his alarm rang at six, they both pushed out of bed, tired and disgruntled.

  "You can go back to sleep," Prosper told her, touching a finger to the dark circles under her eyes. "I'm up and moving. You don't have to worry about me now."

  Babet shook her head. "I can't turn my brain off until I get some answers. I keep playing with what-ifs, and I don't like any of them."

  "Not very reassuring."

  She wouldn't lie to him and tell him that everything would be okay. She might not be able to deliver on that promise. While he showered, she started the coffee. He wasn't hungry, but she made him promise to grab a beignet on his way to the station. She showered before he left their cozy, yellow bungalow, then pulled on a short, flirty skirt and a white, peasant blouse. She tugged her dark hair into a ponytail and brushed her lashes with mascara before driving to see her Mom and Hennie. It was such a short distance, she usually walked, but her mother taught young witches in the school room next to Hennie's herbs-and-potions shop, and Babet wanted to grab her mom before the kids filed in for reading, writing, math, and magic.

  Morgana chose to ride with her. Surprisingly, the snake had a thing for children. The last time she'd visited Babet's mother's classroom, the kids had made a big fuss over her. And Morgana had liked it.

  Early summer in River City was sultry, but boas loved the heat and humidity. With no Prosper to contend with, the snake claimed shotgun position. People were already bustling to favorite restaurants as Babet drove to Magic Avenue. She passed Eye of Newt Boulevard and turned onto the next small street that led to Hennie's shop.

  She circled to the alley and the back parking lot, since the shop wasn't open this early. After a quick knock on the door, she and Morgana let themselves in. Hennie's voice called from the front of the store, "We're in here! Come have coffee with us."

  Morgana slithered to join them. Babet followed. By the time she reached the small table in the shop, Hennie had a cup of coffee waiting for her.

  Bless Hecate! No one could have a better "auntie" growing up than Hennie.

  Babet's mother studied her. "What's up? You're not a morning person. Something got you out and about."

  Babet explained about Prosper and his dream wraith. A heavy silence greeted her. She looked from Hennie to her mother. "Well?"

  The two women looked at each other. Customers sometimes thought that Hennie was Babet's grandmother. Hennie used little magic to fight off age and had pure white hair to show for it. She kept it pulled back in a bun. It gave her a warm, matronly look that was completely appropriate. Babet didn't know what she'd do without Hennie. She loved her mother, but Hennie was always there to cushion and comfort her—like a grandma. But Hennie was actually her mother's age, her mom's best friend. She wouldn't allow wrinkles, though. Her face was seamless. Babet's mother, on the other hand, stayed forever in her early thirties.

  "Hennie doesn't want to deal with men," Babet's mother explained once. "She's been there, done that, and she's over it."

  The white hair was a subterfuge that served her well, whereas Babet's mother glowed with health and vitality. After all, Babet's father, Gazaar—a powerful incubus and keeper of the demon pits—oozed strength and virility—like her Prosper.

  "Well?" Babet repeated. "Is there a protection spell or potion to help him?"

  Her mother frowned. "We've never dealt with a wraith. They only bother men. We've heard about them, though. There must be something. I'll look in my spell books."

  "And I'll look up different potions," Hennie said. "Supposedly, there's a wraith who lives in River City."

  Babet frowned. "I thought wraiths were wanderers that didn't stay in one place."

  "Most are." Hennie fidgeted with the hem of her shirt sleeve. It was warm outside, but the shop was air-conditioned. She wore a thin, loose blouse. "There must be something that keeps this wraith here."

  Not good news. Babet liked the wraith less and less. "Like Prosper?"

  Hennie shrugged. "That's possible."

  "Why take a Were who's mated to a witch? Isn't that asking for a battle?"

  Her mother nodded. "What I've learned of wraiths made them sound like creatures of convenience. If they stumble upon a man who attracts them, they join him in his dreams for a night of pleasure. But they don't go looking for someone, and they certainly wouldn't anger a witch by taking her partner."

  Hennie pushed from the table and went to fetch her Tarot. She kept them in a hidden safe, protected by wards and spells. "Have you done a reading, dear? Did you ask your cards for answers?"

  "No." Babet wasn't even sure what she'd ask them.

  Hennie drew a protective circle, removed the cards from their velvet pouch, and shuffled them. She asked the Tarot, "Why did this dream wraith come for Prosper?"

  The three of them watched as Hennie dealt a ten-card spread. The Tarot turned up answers they didn't expect.

  Babet shook her head. "Why would this have something to do with Prosper's past—his mother and father?"

  Hennie pointed. "Look again. This wraith purposely searched him out."

  "But why?" Babet didn't know much about Prosper before they started working together to solve cases. "He's a lot older than I am," she said. "His pack's alpha told me that's why he was in a hurry to form a bond, to find a mate. He was ready."

  "That's how it happened with Gazaar and me." Her mother's lips curved in a small smile.

  Babet pulled at a strand of her unruly, dark hair. She didn't know that much about her parents' past either. She'd never pushed for more information, and even when she did, her mother only answered what she wanted to. "Dad's eternal, isn't he?" Different than immortal or ageless. Gazaar had no beginning, no end. He couldn't be killed.

  Her mom nodded. "He was an angel—a celestial soldier—before Lucifer was tossed from the heavens. Then Gazaar took the job of guarding the gateway to the pits."

  Babet lifted her coffee cup to her lips, sighed, and set it back down, too upset to drink. "Prosper told me once that both of his parents are dead. Could they be ghosts? Could they know the wraith somehow?"

  Hennie shook her head. "Spirits on earth are different from wraiths. They don't mingle."


  "But Nadine calls spirits with her voodoo." Babet frowned. "The spirits must go somewhere until she summons them."

  "Those spirits were once mortals," Hennie said. "When they died, they went to the Afterlife, and they return there until Nadine calls for them again."

  "So the Afterlife is different from the Netherworld?" Babet asked.

  "Yup." Babet's mother glanced at the clock on the shop's wall and drained the last of her coffee. "Sorry, guys, but kids are going to start coming soon. I have to go."

  Hennie gathered her Tarot and carefully returned them to their pouch. "The shop's going to open, too. We haven't been much help, but we'll keep looking for answers. If we find something, we'll call you."

  Babet gave them each a brief hug. "Thanks, you've given me somewhere to start. I'll let you know what I find, too." Before she could leave, Morgana slithered to the side door that connected the classroom to the potions shop and hurried inside.

  Hennie smiled. "She wants to see the kids."

  Babet went to fetch her, but her mother said, "Let her greet the students at the door. She deserves a treat, and so do they."

  A dozen young witches of varying ages petted and fussed over her before taking their seats in the one-room schoolhouse. Once Morgana was satisfied, Babet trundled her to the car. On the short drive home, she had to force herself to concentrate. It wouldn't do to hit a tourist. This time of year, they clogged Magic Avenue and all of its side streets. They darted in and out of voodoo shops, boutiques with stars and moons on them that sold "witch" wares, and stores advertising palm or Tarot readings.

  Babet rarely paid attention to any of these shops. They were for fun, not to be taken seriously, but when she glanced at a window that seemed to have a bit of everything—monkey paws mixed with magic wands, and dream catchers dangling beside ropes of braided garlic—the display jogged a memory.

  On the northern outskirts of the city, a lonely, winding road led to the property of an old Indian woman. Rumors abounded that she was a witch, but she was never interested in joining their coven. And rumors were just that—speculation. But people with problems visited her, and they often returned, seemingly satisfied, even though they never spoke of the experience.