Dark Redemption

by Angie Sandro

  I turn before I regret trying to help her out. It’s this or rounding up the boys and hiding them in the sticks where she won’t be able to find them. Chances are she’ll get bored with being a parent. My guess is the only reason she came home was to get the property Acker left when he died. Judd probably put her up to it. Plus, four kids means a fat welfare check in the mail every month.

  Man, the negativity’s bringing me down.

  I go to the front desk and schmooze May Robicheaux, pulling on a strained smile and not wincing at her cheek pinching, until she caves and gives me Sophia’s room number. With a final kiss on her plump hand, which gets me a girlish giggle from the middle-aged woman, I head upstairs to find out if Sophia needs a ride back to the house. There are only six rooms on the second floor. From down the hall, I can see that Sophia’s door is cracked open.

  A sliver of unease slides down my spine. I’ve learned to not ignore it when my spidey sense gets to tingling. My heart pounds as I creep down the hall and slowly push the door open wide enough to peek inside. Piles of clothes litter the floor. Drawers hang out of the dresser at precarious angles.

  “What the hell?” I throw open the door so hard it bounces off the wall. Someone trashed the place.

  I don’t see Sophia. Did she walk in on the guy? Where is she? “Sophia?”

  A muffled groan comes from the far side of the bed. I run over and drop to my knees beside her prone body. She has a nasty cut on her temple. Her eyes flicker open, and she stares up at me with glazed eyes. “W-what happened?”

  Relief that her brain isn’t scrambled makes my words harsh. “You tell me?”

  I put my arm around her shoulder and help her to her feet. Her legs shake with the effort of rising, and once she sits on the bed, she slumps over, half falling off the edge. This won’t do. I slide my arm under her legs and lift her, crawling across the mattress to deposit her in the center of the bed. Her trembling hands land on my shoulders, and her fingernails dig into my skin.

  “He was here,” she whispers, eyes wild. “He knew. Somehow.”

  “Who, Sophia?”

  “The man…from Mala’s dream. He came for me.”

  A gasp comes from behind me. “What’s going on?”

  My head whips around at the familiar voice. Mala and George stand in the doorway. Shock twists her face, and I know she’s remembering the time in the graveyard. “Mala, it’s not what you think—”

  “Is it what I think?” George interrupts, pushing past Mala to enter the room. He pauses beside the bed, bottle-green eyes flashing as he takes in the scene of my assumed crime. ’Cause I know that asshole’s not giving me the benefit of the doubt. “What happened here?”

  “George, shut up and listen. Someone broke in and attacked Sophia right before I arrived. Move your doughnut-eating ass and go catch him.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Didn’t see him.” I glance down at Sophia. “Did you?”

  She shakes her head.

  For once, George doesn’t argue. He pulls out his radio while running for the door. The corner of Mala’s eyes tighten, and I yell, “Don’t you dare.”

  Her shoulders slump. “Fine. You’re right. No attempted heroics.” She comes over to the bed and sits on the edge. I slide my hand up her spine, feeling her shiver. Her voice breaks only a little when she asks, “Is she okay?”

  Sophia’s eyes slowly lift. “I’ll be fine if you lower your voices. You’re making my headache worse.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t see who did this?” Mala asks.

  My hand drops. “Leave her alone. She already said she didn’t.”

  “Even the smallest of clues might help.” Her nostrils flare. “Why are you being so protective of her?”

  “Children, behave. And I can speak for myself, Landry.” Sophia takes Mala’s hands. “But it’s better if I show you.”

  Mala stiffens. Her eyes slide up behind her eyelids, leaving only the white, and I shiver over the creep factor. Her eyes roll faster and faster in time with her heaving breaths and then her back arches. She lets out a gasping moan. Her head falls forward as she collapses face-first onto the mattress.

  I stare at her for a long second, waiting for her to sit up. “What did you do to her?”

  Sophia doesn’t answer.

  I lay Mala on her back so she doesn’t suffocate. “Did you see all of this?” I ask my visitor…Damn, I need to think up a name for him.

  “I saw. Sophia inserted her memory of the attack directly into Mala LaCroix’s mind. They will be insensible for a few minutes.”

  “Were you able to see the vision?”

  “Your girlfriend didn’t let me enter her. Even when she mistook me for you. Be grateful I’ve never taken her offerings in the past.”

  The dual meaning of his words leaves me sputtering, “I…you…Damn it, if you ever touch—”

  Mala’s hand covers my mouth. “Stop yelling.”

  I wrap her fingers in mine. “Are you okay? What did you see?”

  “I’m fine.” She shrugs up on the pillows until her back rests against the headboard. “Sophia showed me the attack. He was already in the room when she came in. She didn’t see his face, but the stench of his aftershave is burned into my nostrils. It’s pungent.” She sniffs.

  Sophia rolls onto her side and lays her cheek in her cupped hands. “Aha, you even picked up the sensory details. Good girl.”

  “Don’t congratulate me too quickly. This place still reeks of Old Spice. I’ve hated that cologne since I was a kid. One of Mama’s regulars bathed in that mess, and she always came home stinking of it.”

  “Pepper Acker’s room smells of the same cologne as I smell in here.” I crawl off the bed, mindful of how this will look to an outsider and the door’s wide open. “Axle told me Judd was with his mother, but he was gone by the time I confronted Pepper. Do you think he hid in here and then panicked when Sophia came in?”

  “Pepper would’ve told him that he’s wanted for assaulting you. That’s enough to make him desperate.”

  Sophia grabs my arm. “I was not attacked by accident. He tried to hide it, but not even Old Spice can mask the stench of dark magic on his skin.”

  But why would Judd stink of…“Then—”

  Mala grabs my arm. “Judd drives a car just like the murderer in my vision.” She starts to crawl off the bed, but I push her back. “Oh God, Georgie should be back by now. What if Judd got the jump on him?” Her voice rises. “Landry—”

  Damn it. “Stay here. I’ll find him.”

  I’m out the door before she can think to come with me. The last thing I need is her charging into the middle of a fight. I run for the closest exit, knowing I didn’t pass anyone on the way up the stairs. He would’ve gone out the back entrance to keep from being seen.

  I stand on the upstairs landing, scanning the large yard and street until I find George. He’s running through the yard, but doesn’t appear to be chasing anyone. When he sees me, he waves.

  I clump down the stairs, yelling, “George, we’ve got a problem.”

  He slows to a walk, breathing hard. “I searched the grounds, but I didn’t see anyone suspicious. I’ve got deputies en route for backup. Once they’re on-scene, we’ll do a more extensive search. I think Judd Helmert’s here too. I ran the license plate on a car in the parking lot matching the description of the one he was driving.”

  “Yeah, he—”

  The dispatcher’s voice comes over his radio mike. “BPSO eighteen, license plate is registered to Ace Rental Car.”

  “Ten-four,” he says. “Is medical en route?”

  “Affirm, ETA in five.”

  George takes off again toward the parking lot, leaving me no choice but to follow on his heels. His blatant lack of respect pisses me off. Here I am trying to warn him his suspect could still be hanging around, and he ignores me like I’m still the kid he used to babysit. This is so typical of him. He’s doing the same thing in my relationship with Mala
, inserting himself in the middle like he’s got that right.

  It ends now.

  He’s in the driveway by a white sedan. I grab his shoulder and shove him against the car. His back hits the door with an audible thunk, but he pushes off and raises his hands. “Back off, Landry.”

  “Not this time. Listen—”

  “Look, whatever you’re pissed about, get over it. I’ve got a suspect on the run so forgive me if I don’t take your temper tantrum as seriously as you’d like.”

  His holier-than-thou tone sets my teeth on edge. “Damn it, will you listen to me? This is Judd’s rental car,” I say quickly, before he can interrupt again. “Sophia thinks Judd assaulted her. He must have been hiding in her room and attacked her when she walked in.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

  The urge to punch him almost overwhelms my self-control. “She also thinks he’s the one who’s been murdering the kids.”

  “What?” George frowns. “Wait…Do you smell that?”

  My nose scrunches up. I step closer to the trunk, then step back from the overpowering stench of Old Spice mingling with the sweet, sickly odor of decay. The smell triggers a memory I’ve tried my best to suppress. But I’m back in that moment, seeing my sister Lainey lying on the autopsy table. Her chest cut open. Her heart on a scale. The smell…it’s the same. My stomach rebels over what I suspect is in the trunk.

  I point to a red-brown stain on the metal trunk handle. “Is that blood?”

  George looks like he’s also about to throw-up. He nods and pulls latex gloves from a pouch on his duty belt. “A dried thumbprint.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re opening that?” I step back, breathing through my mouth.

  “He could still be alive.” Doubt colors his tone. He reaches for the latch, and his hand trembles slightly. “It’s unlocked.” He looks at me, then swallows. He pulls the trunk open and staggers back, hand rising to cover his mouth. The smell brings tears to my eye.

  I stare at the lumpy, black plastic garbage bag. “Don’t open it.”

  He leans forward, and I close my eye. I hear the rustle of plastic and then the closing and slamming of the trunk. Rough breathing follows, then gagging.

  My eye pops open.

  George stands doubled over with his hands on his knees a few feet from the car. He sucks in air through his nose, then hawks up a wad of spit. “We’re too late.” He pulls out his radio and goes over the mike to calls in the murder to Dixie.

  A voice that sounds like Deputy Winters comes over his radio. “BPSO twelve and fourteen, on scene at Robicheaux.”

  A patrol car pulls into the parking lot. We step out of the way as it parks behind the car. Winters gets out of the patrol car, followed by Deputy Toussaint from the passenger seat. Another patrol car pulls into the parking lot. I see the K-9 Unit lettering.

  I grab George’s arm when he starts to walk over to them. “If this is Judd’s car, then he’s probably on foot.” Oh shit, Mala. “What if he doubled back to finish what he started?”

  Chapter 19

  Mala

  Butterflies & Champagne

  Landry leaves me alone with Sophia as he goes to assist George. While a bit of my unease subsides, I’m still shaking. A tiny piece of me wants to go help, but I can’t risk hurting the baby. I have more than just myself to think about now. I have to believe that, between the two of them, they can handle any threat.

  I bite my lip and pull my gaze from the doorway. Sophia looks so pitiful that I don’t mind the skin-to-scales contact when I help the viper sit up in bed. I even feel a twinge of guilt for mentally comparing her to an animal that swallows its prey whole.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask, filling my voice with so much syrupy concern that it almost gags me.

  “I’m fine. A bit dizzy.” She lightly touches the tips of her fingers to her cheeks. “Did my glamour slip?”

  I snort-groan, pressing my fist to my stomach. “Saints, you’re vain.”

  “Don’t I know it.” She points to her Louis Vuitton suitcase. “Bring that over here for me, please.”

  “Do it yourself” hovers on the tip of my tongue, but I control my impulsive retort since she’s injured. Plus she even used the magic word.

  I nod, knowing it’s best to keep my mouth shut so I don’t say something I shouldn’t. The instinctive rage I felt upon seeing her on the bed with Landry lingers. For the split second before my brain processed the scene, I lost it. My fingers hooked into claws, more than ready to rip out her flowing, fake locks again. But then I took a breath, which cleared the fog of my fury.

  I knew I was overreacting because I trust Landry to keep his guard up. He won’t drink the poisoned Kool-Aid or anything else she gives him, ever again. And there’s no way he’d ever go to her willingly.

  The suitcase is too heavy to lift but it rolls. “What in the world do you have in here?”

  “Open it for me, Malaise.”

  I rock it over until it lies flat on the ground. “It’s locked.”

  “It’ll open for you,” she says.

  When I glance over, I see she has her eyes closed. My fingers hover over the latches. The air between them feels dense. The latches vibrate and then pop. “Whoa, what just happened?”

  “It’s coded to your biometric tag…your magical signature. I worried for my safety, and I wanted to make sure you could get into this if you needed too.”

  “How?”

  “Believe me, it wasn’t easy. And we don’t have enough time for me to explain.” The serious tone of her voice has me biting my lip. Usually she’s all about the quips, but not now. It makes me pay more attention…to everything. I lift the lid, expecting to see frilly lingerie, but she must’ve packed those in another suitcase.

  “Books, oils, candles.” I pick up a small glass bottle and hold it up to the light. It contains a black and violet-blue butterfly. White spots and orange circles are on the tips of its wings. They look like eyes—for camouflage, I guess. “I’ve trolled the swamps my entire life, but I’d never seen this type of butterfly until yesterday.”

  “That isn’t the same species of butterfly you saw, although it’s part of the same genus. I found that specimen while visiting Northamptonshire: Apatura iris, the Purple Emperor. It’s a Eurasian butterfly not found in the Louisiana swamps.” She presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow, like I’m supposed to know what the hell she’s talking about.

  “Okay,” I say, drawing out the last syllable. “So what type did I see? And more important, why should I care?”

  “Because the butterflies you saw, while similar, aren’t indigenous to this realm. They’re a species found only in the land of the dead. And while that butterfly you hold in your hand once consumed rotting flesh, the Apatura livid is a vorator animi—a soul eater.”

  My lip curls. “Seriously?”

  “Of all the things you’ve witnessed, you find this strange?”

  Not really. “So why is Apa”—I stumble over the Latin pronunciation, then spit out—“this butterfly so important that you encoded my biometric magical signature to your suitcase?” Man, I would chew off my left arm to learn how to work that level of spell casting, but I won’t beg her again.

  “Because it is the key to keep you from falling prey to the demon eating your soul.”

  Saints! I huff a curl off the tip of my nose. How many demons are there, and why did they all seem to be concentrating their culinary efforts on me and my boyfriend? “Did I swallow a butterfly while on the other side? You know…I’ve had this strange tickle in my throat.” She doesn’t crack a smile at my joke or roll her eyes to insult me.

  I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. A memory pops up of the larvae I coughed up after being pulled from the circle of power trap. “Damn, if you’re reading my mind, then you saw what I just remembered.”

  Sophia nods.

  “You’d better not be messing with me.”

  “Do I appear to be joking?”


  I swallow the tickle. “So, by ‘demon,’ do you mean the creature inside Landry?”

  Please say yes. Landry’s learning how to handle that wannabe brain-sucker.

  “My, aren’t you feisty today,” Sophia says drolly, and I cringe. She laughs at whatever expression crosses my face, which makes my belly burn. I hate acting the fool for her benefit, yet I always seem to go to the idiot side when dealing with her. She waves a lazy hand as if to erase my momentary lapse into incompetence, and I swallow the sour taste of gratitude. “I don’t know what inhabits your boyfriend. I’m talking about the loa who tied his soul to yours while you were held captive. The one Queen Magnolia told me to contact while I was out here.”

  I freeze. “What are you talking about?”

  “Deputy Dubois brought you here to speak to the person who discovered the crime scene. Who do you suppose it could be? Since he brought you to my room.” She arches her eyebrows and blinks her insanely long eyelashes. Glamour does a body good. “Please don’t tell me you’re really this dense, Mala.”

  “Hey! I get what you’re trying to tell me. No reason to be snotty about it. Let me process this.” ’Cause I’m falling headfirst down the rabbit hole again. “Explain what Magnolia’s role is in my mass-murder case. Don’t leave out anything.”

  “All I know is she told me to go to Lick Creek. I found the body parts strewn across the ground, almost as if they were left deliberately for me. So I reported it.”

  “Did you know I would be part of the investigation?”

  “I don’t have the gift of prophecy.”

  I lick my dry lips. “Does Magnolia?”

  “She is queen. The limits to her powers are so vast they cannot be seen. As are her ultimate goals. All I know is you went there, you got trapped, and we saved you. In the process, you were exposed to the evil one. He is now connected to you and draws on your power. It must be broken…”