Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2) by Gail Z. Martin Page A

generation to generation, and they sell for hundreds – sometimes thousands – of dollars. Baskets like these are in the Smithsonian and other museums, a handcraft with roots tracing back to the Gullah people and the region’s freed and escaped slaves. And in my opinion, no one made more beautiful sweetgrass baskets than Mrs. Teller and her daughter, Niella.
    “I wondered when you’d come ’round here, Cassidy,” Mrs. Teller said, not looking up from the complicated pattern her agile fingers wove. She had been making baskets all her life, and she made it look easy, but the strips of grass were tough and sharp, and novices ended up with bloody fingers.
    “It was a nice day for a walk,” I said.
    Niella nodded. “Sure is. Lots of tourists walking around. Let’s hope they feel like taking a little bit of Charleston home with them.”
    “You heard about the men that disappeared?” Mrs. Teller asked, looking up at me with piercing, black eyes. Close-cropped gray hair was a stark contrast against her dark skin. I wasn’t sure how old she was. But I knew her skill as a powerful root worker was a force to be reckoned with.
    “Yes. But I’m not sure what to make of it,” I replied.
    Mrs. Teller cocked her head at me as if she were certain that I wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Oh child. I think you do. Bad things are happening all over town. People been coming to me for days for charms and blessings. I give them what I can,” she said with a sigh, “but what’s comin’ is bigger than I can put a root on, you know what I mean?”
    “Mama –” Niella said, a warning for her mother not to speak of things too loudly, or maybe not to call the evil by name. Niella and Mrs. Teller know about my magic, and about Sorren. Teag takes Weaving lessons from Mrs. Teller to learn more about controlling his power, something he’s also pretty new at doing. Still, Niella’s right to be careful. Most people in Charleston don’t believe in magic, or in the kinds of supernatural threats we do our best to protect them from. We try to keep it that way.
    “What do you know about the disappearances?” I asked quietly.
    Mrs. Teller went back to her weaving. “I know I’ve been called out to bless a dozen staircases in the last two days,” she replied. “And I know there are people who are mighty scared.”
    “We’re trying to figure out what’s going on,” I said.
    Mrs. Teller nodded sagely. “Figured as much. Blessing those stairs might help keep the dark away, and I can send some folks away with gris-gris bags and jack balls, but this nonsense is gonna have to stop.”
    “Mama’s trying to tell you that if you need us, we’ll be there to help,” Niella said, with a sidelong glance at her mother.
    Mrs. Teller glared back. “I don’t need you to speak my mind for me,” she snapped. “But she’s right. I knew one of those men who disappeared.”
    “You did? Was there anything unusual about him?”
    Mrs. Teller shook her head. “He didn’t have ‘abilities’, if that’s what you mean. Nobody special. Just a friend. He’d been in a bit of trouble, but he was just getting everything straightened out and now –” She sighed. “If Niella and I can help, you just give a holler, you hear?”
    I smiled. “I do hear you,” I replied. “And if we need your ‘abilities’, I’ll let you know.”
    Mrs. Teller nodded. “Good enough,” she said, fingers still flying on her weaving. “Now best you get on. And you tell Teag for me that it’s been too long since he’s been ’round for a lesson.”
    “I’ll be sure to let him know,” I said, giving a wave and heading off. The day was bright, but my thoughts were dark as I headed to Forbidden City to pick up lunch.
    Teag was busy with a customer when I got back to the store. I carried the bags of food into the break room, and Maggie followed me. “A strange man came looking for someone named Sorren,” she said, a worried expression on her face. “I told