by Angie Sandro
I meet Mala’s worried gaze, and she grimaces. I know exactly how she feels. “When are you gonna forgive me?” I ask.
“Not now,” she says, echoing my earlier words to me.
“Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Arrogant ass!”
George frowns. “Mala, get in the car.”
She turns on her heel, walks over to the patrol car, and slides into the front seat without a backward glance. George stands in front of her door with his arms crossed. He doesn’t seem inclined to leave until he sees my back walking away. I don’t go to the truck. I can’t drive. I’m too pissed. I stalk past Munchies and ignore the people in the window who had a front-row seat for the whole confrontation and turn into the alley next to Revo’s Boot World. The overpowering odor of rotten food and piss hit my nose. I draw in a deep breath.
I’m bricked in by buildings on either side. Nothing but trash around me. How fitting.
Fuck! My fist slams into Munchies’ brick wall. I curse again at the unmitigated stupidity of my punching a wall. Unmitigated, yeah, the perfect four-dollar word to emphasize how idiotic I feel at getting my ass handed to me by that prick George. Maybe I wouldn’t be so pissed if he hadn’t tried to Tase me in front of Mala or if he hadn’t had his hands all over her. And did she stop him? No!
“Oh, Georgie, you’re so awesome,” I parrot in my high-pitched Mala voice, which sounds exactly like her. The worst part is that I drove her into his arms. I betrayed her, but I had to ask Lainey if Mala killed her. Not knowing would’ve driven me insane.
I hadn’t expected for George to treat me like I’m shit stuck to the bottom of his boot. Did Mala tattle to him about my stalking her? Or did Clarice say something after I left? That bitch can be vicious to her enemies, and Mala has moved into her number-one slot because of me. I hadn’t realized how possessive Clarice had become until she put her claim on me in front of everyone.
I kick the metal Dumpster. A bag of trash slides from the top of a pile, spilling out rotting food, and I gag. The steel in my boots protects my toes from serious injury, and the resulting pain releases the anger churning inside of me. I slowly back away from the Dumpster, breathing hard. Rage still boils beneath the surface. I need to release it before I explode.
The perfect opportunity saunters down the alley in the pockmarked form of Redford Delahoussaye and his two hillbilly cousins—uncle, cousins, who the hell knows with that inbred family? One of them, Billy, I think, carries a baseball bat over his shoulder. All three guys outweigh me by a lot, but not one has the muscle. They’re more into fried chicken and pigs’ feet than salads. They can’t take me in a fair fight, but I don’t plan on giving them one even if they could.
Red sends a nasty grin in my direction. Too many bar fights and bad dental hygiene have made Red a very snaggle-tooth boy.
“You got a problem?” I stare at Red, licking the blood off my grazed knuckles. He’s Clarice’s older brother. We’ve tangled since we were kids. Maybe that’s why he brought family to back him up. I didn’t expect him to show up since he works on an oil rig out in the gulf, but I guess I should’ve expected someone from Clarice’s large clan after what happened in Munchies.
The question is whether he came for me or Mala.
“Where’s your girlfriend?”
Wrong answer.
I lean down and pick up a length of steel rebar lodged against the wall. I bounce it on my palm, then adjust my grip, feeling the ridged lines. Excitement makes my hands tingle, and my heart races as adrenaline courses through my body. A grin stretches my mouth. Billy and the other cousin share a glance. I’m guessing the smile doesn’t look too happy.
God, this feels good—not having to back off. I can’t afford to go to jail for hitting a cop, but these guys…whole other story.
Red raises his hands, palms upward. “I didn’t come for you, Prince.”
“Too bad. ’Cause you got me instead of a helpless girl.”
“The witch didn’t sound so helpless when she was cursing my sister.” Red steps forward, holding his hand out. Billy glances at him, then hands him the bat. His cockiness fades once he loses his weapon. “Gotta say, I’m looking forward to kicking your ass. I never liked you, but Clary thinks the sun rises and sets on you.”
“Then she’s an idiot. Guess it runs in the family.”
Red slams the bat against the wall. The sound of metal on brick echoes through the alley. It sets my teeth on edge and jolts my anticipation a notch higher. I’m trembling, I’m so juiced.
“Are you seriously trying to start shit?” Red yells.
“Who followed who into the alley?” I squint at him a second then shrug. “You know what? Who gives a fuck…less talking…”
Red doesn’t stand a chance. No way am I gonna let him walk knowing he’s after Mala. I aim my first swing of the bar at the arm holding the bat. He blocks the swing, but the recoil makes his fingers spasm. The bat drops from his hand. When he lunges for it, I kick his leg out from under him, and he goes to the ground with a howl.
Billy and the other guy stare at Red. The shock on their faces almost doubles me over it’s so funny. Their faces pale, and their mouths hang open. I throw open my arms. “Come on!” I shout, chest rising. “You want me? Let’s go.”
Bravery comes in pairs. It builds when you’re not alone. Strength in numbers and all that. I could’ve told them it’s a load of bull. It’s not about bravery but about how much damage you can withstand without folding. About how motivated the opponent is. I’m exceptionally motivated, and I don’t have anything to lose.
Except Mala, and I won’t give her up without a fight.
They run at me with shouts. I toss the steel bar to the side. I won’t fight unarmed guys with a weapon. I duck Billy’s swing, coming upward to nail him in the gut. The air whooshes out of him. The other guy hits my blind side. I don’t know if it’s a punch or a kick, but I take it in my still-bruised ribs. I stumble back, raising my arms. The uppercut slams into my chin. Where the head goes, the body follows. It’s the law.
I slam into the Dumpster, stunned. Flickering lights spark in front of my eyes. I don’t wait for my vision to clear. It’s what this guy’s waiting for—to take advantage of my confusion. I push off against the Dumpster, aiming my body in the direction I last saw him. He must’ve had the same thought. Our chests collide in midair. The impact knocks us to the ground. I recover faster, pulling myself on top of him and punching him in the face…once, twice. My arm goes back for another, but a hand grabs on. Billy shoves me off his bloody friend and tries to drag him away.
“What?” I scramble to my feet. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath. “This isn’t over. I’m still standing. Come on!”
“Let it go, man,” Billy whimpers. “This ain’t about you. Tell him, Red.”
“It’s about my girl.” I kick at Red, who’s lying with his back against the wall. He sees my steel-toed boot aimed for his face and ducks. “You think I’ll let you go?”
Wild laughter barks out of me. It sounds manic, like I’ve gone batshit crazy. Maybe I have. Time to stick me in a padded room. “God, Lainey. What have you done to me?”
Billy glances at Red with wide eyes. Shit. I said the words out loud.
“I’m sorry,” Red says, climbing the wall with his hands. “About Lainey, I’m sorry.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with my sister.” I brush my hand across burning eyes. “Leave Malaise LaCroix alone. I won’t come at you straight if you go after her.” I shove through them. “And you won’t be crawling away the next time. I’ll break every bone in your fucking body. Believe that if nothing else.”
Chapter 18
Mala
Magnolia
George focuses on navigating the road leading to my house. When we round the corner and start up the hill, I see a familiar truck parked in the driveway.
“Oh, thank God! Mama’s home.” I open the door and jump out before the car comes to a co
mplete stop. I stick my head back in through the open door and grab my purse. “Thanks for the ride, Georgie.”
I slam the door on his response and run for the house.
“Mama,” I yell, bursting through the front door. “You’re not gonna believe how crazy my day’s been.”
“Hold on to your britches, cher. It’s about to get crazier,” Mama says, coming out of the kitchen followed by an old woman who sends chills racing down my spine.
I freeze, afraid to move farther into my own house. The air vibrates with a malignancy that sets off warning sirens in my brain. It takes all my strength not to run. I can’t leave Mama alone, though even that isn’t the truth. My legs won’t listen. I’ve shut down—trapped in the hypnotic gaze of a predator.
The woman stares at me with pale brown eyes that have a golden cast. Her yellowed, parchment-thin skin stretches over high cheekbones dotted with liver spots that would’ve been considered freckles in her long-ago youth. Gray hair, long and wavy, has been pulled back into a braid that brushes the backs of her knees. She slams her silver-handled cane down on the hardwood floor with a loud thud, and I twitch.
“Vin bay matant ou yon bo,” the woman says, and smiles, showing a toothless mouth with blackened gums. She spoke in Creole, and my limited knowledge of French lets me interpret her words—“Come give your auntie a kiss”—but still, I hesitate.
Mama scowls. “Don’t be rude. I taught you better.” She grabs my hand and drags me over to the woman. The closer I walk, the more my skin itches. The hairs rise on my arms, and my body hums, like that tickle you get from walking under power lines.
Magnolia’s eyes narrow. “You feel that, don’t you?”
“Oui, Grand-tante Magnolia,” I say, struggling to draw breath without hyperventilating.
She smiles. “I speak English.” She holds her hand out to me. When I touch her, the hair all over my body stands on end. My scalp prickles. I grit my teeth because it hurts. Not the kind of hurt that comes from stubbing a toe or getting slapped silly, but a bone-deep ache that feels unnatural.
“She’s a strong girl, Jasmine,” Magnolia says, looking at Mama. “Strong in the power. More powerful than you, and you got your full gift. When you die, this girl’s gonna be fearsome.”
I jerk my hand from hers and take a step back. “Mama’s not dying anytime soon.”
“Sooner than you both think.” Magnolia lets out a low cackle. “Visions only come when the death is so violent that the passing shreds apart time.”
Shreds time? Is she talking about time travel? “I don’t understand. Are you saying Mama’s dreaming of her future death—now—in the past?”
Magnolia’s lips lift in a knowing smile. “Oui, cher.”
I shake my head in denial. “I’m not a genius so I’m not real familiar with the science behind time travel, but if what you’re saying is true”—I look at Mama and frown—“then the…the what would you call it, psychic energy? Spirit?” I search Magnolia’s face for some clue that I’m on the right track, ’cause the direction my thoughts are heading in chills me to the bone.
Magnolia cocks her head to the side. Her amber eyes brighten, but her face stays blank. Why? She knows the answer. Why doesn’t she just tell me? Or is this a test? Doesn’t exactly seem fair, using me as a chew bone, but I have to play along. For now.
I suck in a deep breath then spit out my answer so fast the words trip over my tongue. “So, this death energy is rippling into her past. Like a movie on a loop, replaying over and over, allowing her to see a vision of her future.” I feel my way along this line of thought to its horrifying conclusion. “She’s already dead. Nothing I do now can change what will happen to her.”
“Not a damn thing,” Magnolia agrees.
Bullshit! I refuse to believe that. I watched Sliders and Fringe; even Stargate had episodes about parallel universes. So what if the time stream gets messed up if I save Mama’s life now? Future Mala’s life probably sucks. She’d want me to figure out a way to save Mama. And I will.
I glare at Magnolia, disliking the smug tilt on her liver-lips. The woman ignores me. She clumps across the room and sits on the sofa. “My, Jasmine,” she says to Mama, “she’s smart too. Not like you. I tried to explain this as we drove up here, but your brain’s too full of holes from that moonshine you’ve been drinkin’.”
“Why else would I be drinkin’?” Mama laughs. “Might as well enjoy what little time I got left.”
“Stupid woman,” Magnolia says with a shake of her head.
The way she talks to Mama makes me angry. Then I smell the liquor wafting off Mama’s breath.
“Oui, Jasmine’s been drinking since we got here. She forgets she’s got to drive me home. I got a date with a corpse at midnight.” Magnolia cackles, slapping her knobby knee.
I shudder, imagining her in the graveyard performing some sort of ritual. I hope a zombie eats her brain. The nasty old bat. No wonder she and her twin, Grandmère Dahlia, fell out. How could two women be such complete opposites in temperament yet come from the same womb?
“I thought I had more time to relax.” Mama shoots me a disgusted look and falls hard into the armchair. A bottle sits on the end table next to her. “You’re home early.”
“I didn’t ride the bus home today.” I wish I could tell her why, but when she’s in this condition, she doesn’t care about anything but the drink. I give her up as a lost cause and address Auntie Magnolia. “Why are you here? Not that I’m not happy to meet you, but it’s a long drive from New Orleans.”
“Despite what my sister thought about me, I value kin. Didn’t have no kids of my own. It’s why you’re so powerful. You the last LaCroix girl, child. The power’s split through our family lines, doled out from the mother upon her death throughout the generations. But it’s all tied to you now. It’s gonna blow your mind to bits.”
“Yay for me,” I drawl, but shiver.
Magnolia smiles. “Good, you got some spunk. Gonna help keep you strong, maybe even keep you sane. Jasmine said you’ve got a spirit haunting you?”
“Yes.” I glance at Mama, but she’s slumped in the chair. Her eyes are closed, and the soft buzz of a snore comes from her. “I went to a medium today, Madame Rubine, to see if she could figure out what the ghost wanted.”
Mama snorts, eyes cracking open, and I cringe. “That fraud? Thought I told you to leave it be while I was gone.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I thought it would help, but Lainey got inside Ruby. She spoke through her, and I swear, Ruby’s nose started bleeding. She looked bad, real bad.”
Magnolia nods. “Her mind wasn’t strong enough. That spirit destroyed her.”
“What do you mean, destroyed?” I ask.
“Scoured her mind. Never mind her. She’s dead by now.”
Shocked, I stumble back. “Dead? What?”
“Would’ve happened within a few hours of possession. Nothing to be done about it. Even if she went to the hospital, the bleeding in her brain would’ve still killed her.”
Oh my God, it can’t be true! She looked like she’d been wrung out and put away wet when we left, but she said she’d be okay. And I believed her because I was too angry with Landry to care. I should’ve stayed…done something. Her poor little boy. “It’s my fault. I killed her,” I mutter, barely able to speak over the lump in my throat. The awful revelations keep dropping faster than I can process them. First Mama, now Ruby. Is everyone I come into contact with cursed?
Magnolia’s head tilts, and her beady eyes focus on me, like a crow eyeing roadkill. “You paid her, didn’t you? She offered to open up her mind to the spirit. That’s the only way it works. You got to be willing. It was her choice to make, cher. Not your fault she was stupid.”
“At least it wasn’t you, Mala,” Mama says.
“No, I refused. The last time Lainey came for me, I didn’t have any memory of her taking over. It scared me.”
“Scared me too,” Magnolia says with a gap-toothed smile. “T
hat’s why I cleared my afternoon appointments to come help you. You ain’t supposed to be feeling the spirits so strongly, but you’re getting a taste of the power you’ll inherit after your mother dies. It’s seeping into the past just like Jasmine’s death vision. Tell me true, have you been feeling poorly lately?”
I rub my aching head. “I’ve had a bit of a cold.”
Magnolia shakes her head. “Non, ma petite. That’s the spirit eating up your life force in order to manifest. It’ll suck you dry—driving you crazy. Unless you learn to control it, you’ll wither away in a mental hospital unable to tell real from vision. Or die.”
I pace in front of her, too jittery to be still. Power from three generations of LaCroix witches hums like a live wire stretched between us. I can’t deny the connection because it zings through me, filling me up until I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t use it. My teeth chatter as I ask, “Are you saying this to frighten me?”
“Is it working, cher? Don’t want you blaming me later, saying I never told you what you were up against. We got to put a wall up to keep this spirit bound.”
“Will it get rid of Lainey?”
“No, she’ll be hovering on the other side, waiting for an opening. Long as you keep the wall up, she won’t be able to get to you. Mind you, this is temporary. Jasmine agreed you need to come to New Orleans for a few weeks. You’ll be my apprentice. Learn how to build shields against this kind of psychic invasion. Don’t want you ending up roaming around crazy like your mother or locked up in a funny farm. That’s what happens to those with the Sight that don’t get any training.”
“But I don’t want—” to learn hoodoo.
“Malaise Jean LaCroix, don’t disrespect your auntie,” Mama snaps. “She’s gracious enough to help. This is all she asks in return.”
I backtrack fast. “I was going to say, I don’t want to be a burden.” Which is a piece of the truth, just not all, and I hold onto the rest of my protest since it won’t do any good. I have to learn how to control this magic even if it means being apprenticed to a conjure woman. I don’t want to die or go crazy. ’Sides, I don’t have to be wicked and learn how to raise the dead and twist dark curses. I can choose to be a good witch like Great-grandmère Dahlia.
