by R. L. Wilson
I click my seat belt and roll the window down, hoping for a cool night breeze to hit my cheeks. Instead, the sting of the summer’s heat brushes against my forehead. God, does the heat ever relax here?
“Morgan, are you ok back there?”
She doesn’t answer. I twist my head to observe Morgan sitting with her arms folded and head tilted down. She’s been saying she’s tired all day; I guess she needs a nap. Sure explains why she let Kato drive.
I’m a ball of emotions, no turning back now. How desperately I’ve longed to be in her presence. To get a glimpse of her. I need to know if she is fine. Now I’m within minutes of seeing her, but I’m uneasy. A dreadful intuition encroaches, like darkness.
What the fuck is this?
Kato parks the car across the street from a warehouse. There’s a busted window and bars on the door. They better not be holding my mother in a raggedy shack. It appears abandoned from the outside. I imagine how the inside must be. Goosebumps prickle over the skin of my arms. I glare at Kato, waiting on him to explain. He darts his eyes in my direction without turning his head.
He shrugs. “This is the hit I got.”
Two bulky men stand by the door. They are hiding her in plain sight, but it’s about twenty minutes outside of the city. There is a lot of vacant land behind the warehouse. The street is full of houses, and business even. We scope out the place. Not much activity coming in or out. The upper window is highlighted by a luminous glow. Maybe Momma’s being held upstairs.
“KATO!” I scream.
He jerks. “What happened?”
“There is Prentiss’s ass over there, walking down the street in the blue jeans.”
Kato squints. “Well I’ll be goddamned. Wait, let’s contemplate this. Let’s get a plan together.”
I jump out of the car and slam the door while Kato is still working on a plan. I couldn’t control myself. Kato is yelling Morgan’s name. She can’t stop me from getting answers from Prentiss. Not only did I come for Momma, I need to know if he’s my father.
“Prentiss!” I scream, enraged by internal wounds.
He keeps walking, so I pick my pace up to a jog, heart racing, seeing red. I catch up to him and he stops. And stares at me like I’m a foreign object.
“We need to talk,” I demand. Normally, I’d be terrified, but I’m running on pure adrenaline.
His eyes bulge. “Are you talking to me?” he replies.
I said Prentiss, is this motherfucker deaf? He’s acting like a complete idiot, as if he doesn’t recognize me.
“Of course, I’m talking to you.”
“Harmony,” I turn to view Morgan who’s racing toward me. She stops in front of me and pants, trying to catch her breath. She shifts her head to her left then darts her gaze across the street. What’s wrong with her? We’ve been searching for Momma all day and she wants to play.
“Listen, tell me where my mother is right fucking now.” I walk closer in his face. My face warms with anger. If he says anything stupid, I’m going to knock the shit out of him. Right here and now.
“You have the wrong person,” Prentiss says.
Morgan snatches me by my arm. “Harmony, over there.” She points across the street.
I glance across the street and there is Prentiss. What the fuck? I twist back at the man standing in my face and he is Prentiss. My heart falls in the pit of my stomach. The next breath I take is nearly impossible because my lungs have stiffened.
He walks around me and continues down the street. A car drives past and there is Prentiss sitting in the passenger seat.
“What type of games are they playing on us?”
“Two men with Prentiss’s face walked past me,” Morgan utters.
It’s like they had a town just with clones of Prentiss. How could this be? Kato’s hit is for Prentiss, but we found a bunch of clones.
Fear clogs my throat. I’m no closer to finding Momma than I was when I first arrived in Louisiana. Morgan and I march over to the car. Then a siren rings out like a fire truck, but I don’t smell any smoke.
Kato walks toward us.
“What’s the loud noise?” I scream while covering my ears.
“A security alarm,” Kato says. I read his lips. I can barely hear my thoughts.
Why is a security alarm going off? The siren stops and the footsteps are closing in on us. I pivot around and view the huge guards nearly standing in my face.
Their faces are red and angry. Sweat flings from their foreheads. I sense they want to fight. Kato walks in front of me. “What’s the problem?” he asks.
“You’re the problem,” one guard says before swinging at Kato. All my attention is focused on the mark covering the other guard’s right cheek. I concentrate on his face, trying to use my laser magic. There’s no sickness within him. A spell isn’t cast upon his family—it’s a birthmark.
He takes a swing at me; I grab his arm, but there is no buzz, no fire. Shit, my magic isn’t working. This man will kill me. I back up as Morgan rushes to my side. He must kill both of us. He pounds his fist into his hand, glaring at me. Grabbing me with a strong force, he slings me across the street. Morgan has jumped on his back, straddling him from behind. I’ve gotten a little dizzy. I sit there on the ground scanning the land. Everything in the land is sick. In need of healing. There are several fights happening. Everyone here is angry.
I shake my head and concentrate on the land. My laser vision is hazy but working. Before I blink the land repairs itself. But there’s fire burning within the trees, the wolves, and the souls of the men involved in this fight. The fire is being repressed within the objects the same way my magic is being repressed. I need to free this land of the repressed energy. I dip down into my magic and a bolt of fire jerks from my hand, landing in a field.
I spring to my feet as Morgan and Kato race to my side.
“What the hell is going on?” Kato asks.
“This land is calling to me; it’s sick and fire is trapped in these towns and these people, that’s why they’re angry,” I explain.
“What did you do?” Morgan questions.
“I tried healing the land. Doesn’t appear to have worked,” I reply.
Kato grabs my arm. “We have to go now.”
We’re surrounded by huge boulders and trees moving in toward us. The land is moving. What the hell have we gotten ourselves into? Morgan gasps out a panicked scream. One rock is nicking her feet.
I graze the rock and it cracks. “Get the fuck away from my friend,” I scream.
“Harmony, I’m scared,” Morgan yells while squeezing my arm.
The huge tree is coming toward the guard with the birthmark on his face. He pulls out a blade, and starts chopping at the tree. The tree swings its branches. The guard chops some off—he’s had a fight with the land before.
A vine wraps around Kato’s leg. He grabs his leg and pulls, but the vine is gripping tighter. I grab the vine and a light buzz tingles my finger. The vine releases its grip and breaks in two.
A loud rumble tears through the chaos, as the ground underneath my feet rattles. My heart races. I’m scared to take a peek above my head, but I do. There’s a huge boulder rolling down the road, coming our way.
“Shit, we got to make it to the car,” Kato says.
The fear in Morgan’s face makes me anxious. But I have no time to entertain her fear. If we don’t move quickly, this boulder will flat-line our asses.
I yank Morgan’s arm as we jump over a rock, racing toward the car.
There’s screaming and fire. Is this Armageddon? A battle with the land is crazy. We all jump in the car as the boulder is within feet of us.
“Where are the damn keys?” Morgan screams.
My eyes dart around the car and my intestines cramp. Holy shit, we don’t have the keys. Could this day get any worse?
“Close your eyes and hold on,” Kato says.
A huge boulder is coming for the car. It’s my last day on Earth. I certainly don’t want to sp
end it fighting trees.
Chapter 12
Kato teleports us back to Jazz’s bar, if you want to call it a bar. And in the nick of time. I shiver remembering the size of the boulder. It will destroy anything in its path. Panic swirls in my gut. I’d never been so frightened. I’ve been a witness to horror. But nothing of this magnitude.
“What the hell have we gotten into?” I yell. This place is nuts. Give me Detroit any day. This place is one hot-ass mess.
“Not everything needs to be healed, Harmony,” Kato growls.
Morgan’s eyes tightly shut as she pants in exhaustion. My poor friend has been fighting all day. All she wants is a cool room and a fluffy bed.
“You already told me.” I roll my eyes as a bead of sweat races down my face. Every muscle in my body is tense and sore. Finding Momma now won’t be easy.
“There are people, objects, hell, lands sick for a reason.” His tone is sharp. “The area is probably one of those locations. You can’t heal everything.” He hits the steering wheel of the car. “Damn.” He glances at the bar.
I blink in fear. I understand why he’s upset, but I don’t have complete control all the time. “How was I supposed to know the land would awaken?” I question.
“You can’t, so you shouldn’t heal anything unless you are certain,” he barks.
I resisted the urge to shout “Give me a fucking break. I can’t change what has happened already.” My teeth clench and my jaw locks.
“Everybody calm down,” Morgan says. “We made it out safe.” She yawns and slowly opens her eyes.
“Yeah, but there may be hell to pay the captain,” Kato says.
Morgan pops on the light. “Harmony let me inspect your tattoo since you healed the land.”
“Oh yeah, it should have grown now.” Morgan is trying to help me keep a balance to stay healthy, to stay alive.
I lower my shirt, exposing my chest and Morgan gasps. “It’s not growing. Hell, it’s getting smaller,” Morgan says.
I flip the sun visor down and glance in the mirror. The tattoo isn’t getting any bigger, but it didn’t get smaller. Maybe I’m keeping a balance.
Morgan points toward the bar. “We’re not going back to the bar, are we?”
“For a minute,” Kato says.
At least he took some bass out of his voice. I won’t make the mistake again. I wasn’t certain I could heal the land. But I had to try.
As we walk in the smoky joint, the whole place goes silent. The band is playing country music, and once we enter the band stops. The saxophone player jumps off the stage and makes his way over to us. Everyone stares at us as if we were the Grinches who stole Christmas. The tension thickens, raising the hair on the back of my neck. Soon enough, I’ll know what the beef is about.
Jazz storms from around the bar. The room practically rattles. Her hair changed from red to blue and back to red. She stomped all the way from the bar to us. She aims to shoot and I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire. She gets closer and I view the anger whirl on her face.
“Kato, what’s wrong with you?” she barks.
His eyes dart around the bar. As if he’s puzzled and does not understand. “Nothing, what are you talking about?” He shrugs.
She stared at me and Morgan like we need to get out of the way. She needs to have a seat; her problem is with Kato.
I shoot a glare back, but I’m uneasy. I’m finding it hard to fight the stomach acid creeping up my esophagus. My nervousness is getting the best of me. I feel awful about what I’ve done. But I’m not going to be chastised for it.
She snatches Kato by the arm and walks off only two feet. I’m nosy so I hear everything she’s saying.
“A lot of us paranormals live here in New Orleans. And the shit you pulled awakened the land,” she explains with a raised voice. “Most paranormals don’t understand what this means.” Her face turns as red as her hair. Kato can’t get a word in. She’s pissed off.
How did she find out so quick? Kato didn’t do anything, I did. He shouldn’t take the blame. But I stand there too paralyzed by fear to move. Not fear of Jazz, but awakening the land may be deadly for some.
“The land hasn’t been awakened in decades.” She sizes him up. Damn, is she going to swing? The saxophone player stands at her side with his arms folded.
Kato is fidgety, acting dodgy. “Jazz, stay out of it,” he says.
“Oh, you are covering for someone.” She snaps her head in my direction and takes a few steps, coming to stand in my face. “What is your role in this?” Her eyes glaze over, an icy blue. The scent of ashes makes my lungs constrict. Maybe it’s her, or this smoky-ass bar. Either way, it’s hard for me to breathe. But I have enough strength to whip her ass.
Kato grabs her by the arm. “They had nothing to do with this.”
She snatches her arm back. “Come on, out with it,” she shouts, walking toward me.
This bitch better get out of my face. But it flows out. “I healed the land.” I throw my hand on my hip.
Her hair turns a steel gray and sends quivers down my tendons. Shit, I’ve pissed her off now. She shakes her head furiously, and the smoke coming from her face is scorching. “Get out.”
“Hold on! Wait a minute, Jazz, she didn’t know,” Kato explains.
“I will not protect someone like her,” she screams. “She has a smart mouth and a nasty attitude.” She shakes her fist in my face. I step back before I swing. Kato better get her out of my face.
“Where do you come off? Coming here touching things?”
“Calm down, Jazz,” Kato says grabbing her arm.
“Little girl, you have no idea what you are messing with.” Her face has returned to its original color, her voice monotone. “Get out of New Orleans. Before you do more damage.”
I’ve had enough of her ranting. Just because I’m not ancient doesn’t mean she needs to talk down to me. “Let’s go, Morgan.” I feel bad enough.
We storm out of the bar, passing several onlookers. They watch the argument like it’s a Mike Tyson fight. I’m pissed, but at myself. Tears fill my eyes. How could I be this stupid and easily distracted?
“I’ve caused all this damage, and I still haven’t found Momma.”
“We’ll find your Momma, it’s not your fault. She’s being a bitch,” Morgan says. “She has the hots for Kato. That’s her real problem with you.”
“Me?”
“You’re in the way of her being with Kato.”
“And Kato stands there not defending me.” The tears flow down my cheeks. He has a thing for her.
“No. He tried. She was pissed, but he never said you did anything.”
Morgan is right, she’s screaming in a jealous rage. Telling me to leave New Orleans. I’ll leave. But I’m not going anywhere until I find Momma.
Chapter 13
I awaken to birds chirping, soreness, and soft sheets. My eyes snap open. I nearly forgot I’m in New Orleans. There sure as hell ain’t birds chirping in Detroit.
I move to the side and worse pain creeps into my forearm. I shake my hands in an attempt to relieve the soreness of my muscles.
I slip the purple comforter back, trying to confirm this is Momma’s room. The room is elegant compared to the house in Detroit. The sheets are cream and silk. The bed is huge, with one of those memory foam mattresses. Momma came into some money. I scan the room, locating the closet. A ton of blacks, grays, and browns. This is definitely Momma’s room.
As I try repositioning myself in bed, pain shoots up my back. I sigh and rub it. What a battle yesterday. I push down on the bed with my palms and my hands sink into the mattress. I’m never getting out of this bed. I don’t want to. It’s the most comfortable bed I’ve been in. But I have to do my job.
Anxiety twists in my gut once, twice, three times. Hopelessness is setting in. Will I ever find Momma? Maybe I’m too late.
I get a whiff of bacon. Morgan must be cooking. Hopefully she made breakfast for me too. I’m starving.
The bedroom door flies open, and Morgan peeks in the door, her brown eyes dancing with excitement.
“Are you hungry?” She enters the room in booty shorts and a beater with a giant fork in her hand.
I bust out in a laugh. “Are those pajamas?”
“Yep. Too hot to wear anything else around here.”
“What are you cooking?” I question.
“Bacon and eggs.” She stares at me waiting for my complaint. Morgan can’t cook for shit, but as hungry as I am, I’ll eat anything.
“We have to hurry. Get back to town.” I roll to the side of the bed, finally getting up. “I noticed a couple of people on Bourbon Street I want to ask a question. Snoop around to find some information.”
“Detective Harmony,” Morgan replies with a snicker.
I roll my eyes at Morgan before grabbing a picture of Momma off her nightstand. A picture of her taken recently. She has on the shirt that we bought at the mall last year.
“We will need this picture. Someone had to spot her around town.”
We get to Bourbon Street mid-morning. The sun is up, but isn’t beaming down on us. It’s still hot. By noon the heat will be unbearable. The potion handlers and farmers are out already. And a lot of shoppers. Now is my time to ask questions.
I spot a woman sitting at a stand with a large painted sign in front that says Tarot Card Readings. The person I need to talk to. Her mysterious eyes and flowing skirt have me mesmerized. Morgan and I march toward her stand. We take a seat on the old milk crates sitting in front of her table.
“Who wants the tarot reading?” she babbles.
Morgan points to me as I raise my hand. She has jewels galore, even a ruby in the middle of her forehead. She wears a skirt and a half shirt with her belly button exposed. She can’t have any kids because her stomach is as flat as a board.
She pulls a stack of cards from her fanny pack. Then she places them on the table, scattering the cards around while staring in my face. Her wheat-colored hair is styled in two long braids.
