by Angie Sandro
The seriousness of his tone cracks the frozen shards icing my heart. Warmth floods my body as I’m once again reminded of how lucky I am to have him. He knows me well enough that he feels it necessary to remind me not to jump out of the truck on my own. In this case, I don’t think my stiff fingers can work the door latch let alone trust my shaky legs to hold my weight. Not that falling on my face in front of Magnolia would be a bigger humiliation than my last “incident”—rolling into an open grave and landing on a rotting corpse.
Landry holds me steady the minute my feet touch the ground. I inhale his scent, and his strength fills me. My shoulders straighten. We cross the driveway and climb the porch stairs as a united front. Prepared to face whatever she dishes out together.
* * *
Magnolia lifts Grandmère Cora’s china teacup to her lips, but her eyes never break the connection between us. The air prickles with energy, flowing from her to me and settling in the pit of my stomach, drawn to the life I hold inside. She aims a gummy smile in my direction and raises her hands palm forward, like she’s offering benediction.
“Hey there, cher,” Magnolia says and cackles. “How you been?”
“I’m sure you know better than I.” I lean forward and lay a peck on her dry cheek. A spark bites me at the touch, and I jump back. “You’ve heard Landry and I are expecting?”
“Been expecting for over a month, so it’s no surprise to me. Ferdinand filled me in on your situation. Where’s my Sophia?”
I glance at Ferdinand, but return my focus to Magnolia’s eyes, watching for a hint of guilt, as I say, “Someone attacked her at the hotel. She’s at the hospital.”
Nothing. The old bat doesn’t even blink.
Ferdinand clears his throat. He taps a finger against his cell, which lies on the table. “Sophia texted that she’s been checked out by the doctor, and she’s okay. She said she’d meet us at your cousin’s room.”
“Why?” Magnolia asks. She sets her empty teacup on the saucer and wipes her lips.
Surprised, I frown at Ferdinand. I thought he would’ve explained the situation to Magnolia. Or better yet, had not needed to explain. I thought she knew everything? Ferdinand and Sophia have no problem dipping into my thoughts. “Uh, I know you came to do some purification ritual, but today we’re gonna get my cousin instead. If that’s all right with you, ma’am.”
“She’s stuck in limbo,” Ferdinand explains. “Mala didn’t have the fortitude to bring her all the way back.”
Magnolia raises an eyebrow, and my cheeks heat.
“Damn it, Ferdinand. I thought we were friends,” I say. “Why do you have to go and make me sound all wussy? Sue me if I’m not onboard with killing someone as easily as you.”
“So what’s changed?” he asks.
“Red’s trapped in limbo with Dena. He’s torturing her, and it’s my fault. I won’t leave her in there with him.”
Magnolia rocks back with a sly grin. “Miss High and Mighty tampered with the balance between life and death and now sees the consequences aren’t necessarily a matter of black and white.”
“No matter how I cut it, it’s still murder if my actions are the cause of his death,” I say.
“Ah, then you’re willing to assume the consequence for such a dark act?”
I knew it wouldn’t come without a price. “I’ve thought about my decision at length. I’m willing to pay whoever guards the gates to the afterlife if it means bringing my cousin back.” Plus a tiny spark of hope still burns that maybe I can get around Red dying. “Isn’t the situation different this time? She’s not completely dead like the decaying girl in the grave and”—I lean forward to whisper from behind my hand—“Etienne.”
Magnolia laughs and pats the silent man on the back. A puff of spicy and dust explodes from his suit, making my nose tingle. “He won’t get his feelings hurt by hearing he’s dead, cher. He knows better than anyone living the state he’s in.”
I guess. “What I mean is, since Dena isn’t dead, Red won’t need to die to balance out the sacrifice. Right?”
Magnolia shrugs. “I don’t decide these things.”
“But who does?”
“Someone with greater power than I, cher.”
Saints! Oh…she does mean saints or God, angels, Loa of Death, a higher power. Scary thought. I’m tampering with the rules of life and death, and I don’t know what they are. Evidently, Magnolia, for all of her big talk, doesn’t either. That’s a recipe for trouble.
Landry clears his throat. “So what exactly is the price? To Mala, I mean.”
I’m not surprised he doesn’t give a flying monkey about Red, but me…yeah, I can already see his wheels spinning as he tries to figure out the said and unsaid. And he’s staring Magnolia down, not backing off from her.
Magnolia raises both silver eyebrows. “Is this you asking or your demon?”
“He tends to go quiet when you’re around. Maybe he doesn’t like your company.”
The insult stiffens her crooked spine. She slams the end of her cane down on the wood floor, letting out a resounding thump. “Seems like it’s a negative influence on your manners. You were always such an obedient partner for my great niece. It’s why I let you live the night Jasmine died, despite Mala’s desire to sacrifice you on the altar of her revenge.” A dark shadow hovers above her skin, and her voice turns gravelly. “Don’t make me regret my decision.”
Landry’s eye widens, so do mine. “So you really were in the road that night. You caused the accident.”
“I saw you and your father’s souls were pure. Not so for the other men involved in murdering my niece. Those who are no longer in this world, and the one who hovers on the brink.” Her grin sends a chill down my spine, because where once there were only gums blackened by chewing tobacco, a row of sharp teeth flash between her narrow lips. The shadow beneath her skin rises to the surface once again, superimposing itself over my aunt. Her true form. I don’t know where this thought comes from, but I know it to be correct. “A storm’s rolling in, and we need the light of the moon for the purification ritual, so we’ll deal with your cousin first. Tomorrow night is soon enough. Ferdinand, bring my bag.”
The big guy gives us a warning frown and brings Magnolia’s satchel over. He sets it at her feet, and I rub my hands on my jeans, remembering the oily feel it left on my palms when I last touched it. Nastiness.
Landry and I leave first for the hospital. Neither of us wants to be stuck in the Caddy with Magnolia. I have too many suspicions about her to be in such close proximity, especially when she’s read my mind in the past. But I do want to talk to her about what happened at the B&B with Judd. Even though I think he might be working with her, I need to get her opinion on what I saw when I shot that spear of power into his chest.
Landry and I talked about it after we dropped off the boys. He said he watched the whole attack, but he didn’t see it—the darkness that rose out of Judd’s body when the energy hit him, like the power severed his shadow and it flew off on its own, à la Peter Pan. I saw something similar happen to Magnolia on the porch. Like something lived just under her skin.
We don’t wait for Magnolia and crew to arrive, but go inside. I see Bessie and George standing by the emergency room door in deep conversation. Judd must still be getting examined. I wonder if his blood work will be positive for illegal drugs.
I veer from Landry’s side, saying over my shoulder, “I’ll get an update on Judd and Pepper while you wait for Magnolia.”
“Okay, get to it.” He gives me a tight smile, and I nod. Time for Operation Interrogate the Flunky, aka finding out what Judd has told George about his crime. Convincing George to buck authority and spill police secrets is a whole lot easier when I can bat my eyelashes and give him flattering looks without Landry around to get all grr with jealousy. I didn’t expect our ill-formed plan to go into play this soon, but I can’t pass up the opportunity. Who knows how long it will take to bring Dena back from the living dead or what sort of
shape I’ll be in after it’s over.
“Hey,” I call, running over to them. I don’t wait for them to return the greeting but launch into my speech. “Judd’s here, right? Did he spill anything?”
“Mala—” Bessie begins, but I cut her off.
“Look, I’m not some civilian off the street. Sheriff Keyes said I could work this case with George, and I’ve done more than my share. Don’t cut me out now, when we’re so close to finding out the truth.”
Bessie raises a hand. “Maybe if you’d let me speak without interruption, you’d know that I had no intention of cutting you out of anything. The fact of the matter is that I need your opinion.”
“What?”
“Judd’s acting all kinds of peculiar,” Bessie says, shaking her head. “Like being slammed against the wall scrambled his pea brain, however the hell that happened. Every witness to his capture mentions it, but nobody knows how or why.” She gives me the beady eyeball, but doesn’t voice her suspicion when she continues. “Anyway, he says the last thing he remembers is going to the Ackers with Pepper. After that it’s a blank.”
My lips twist. “Super convenient, or inconvenient, since amnesia won’t help with an alibi.”
George clears his throat. “Thing is, I don’t think he’s faking. He reminds me of you after…” He trails off, shifting from one foot to the other.
Bessie stares at him like he’s lost his ever lovin’ mind, then turns to me. “He means after your attack. Only I don’t know why he just didn’t go on and say it.”
“Hey, that was a hard time for me,” he protests.
“Harder for me, since I’m the one who had a ghost-fried memory.” I poke George in the chest.
“See, LT, I told you,” George says. “That’s how he acts. Like he was possessed by a ghost. He has the same blank”—he waves his hands in front of his face in some wacky version of jazz hands— “‘I don’t know who you are or what I did last summer’ glaze to his eyes. He actually started crying when I told him he held a gun to Pepper’s head and had a kid’s body in his trunk.”
Bessie crosses her muscular arms. “I think it’s less likely that he was possessed and more likely he’s a remorseless serial killer who is setting up an insanity defense.”
George turns to Bessie. “You didn’t see his face in the hallway, Lieutenant.”
“Yeah, I agree with my brother,” I say. “You can’t fake that kind of crazy. Or vice versa. He really wanted to kill me over that knife.”
“Knife?” Bessie asks.
I cover my mouth. “Oops, damn. Sorry. Georgie and I planned to tell you about it if it turned out it had something to do with the murders.”
“You found the murder weapon”—Bessie’s voice rises with each word, and I cringe—“and didn’t say anything?”
“It wasn’t found under conventional circumstances. It can’t be used as evidence in court. I mean, how are you to explain that I took the knife away from the killer in a dream and brought it out to the real world. See,” I crow, pointing at her openmouthed expression. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“So this knife—
“That’s another problem,” George says.
“Will you please stop interrupting me?” Bessie cries, hands rising to rub her forehead. I think we’re about to break the unbreakable Lieutenant Caine. Not good. We need her sanity intact to keep us from going off the rails. I swear, half the time I cringe over the nonsense coming out of my mouth. The problem is that the craziest things are real: ghosts, zombies, demons, magic, love. Nuts. I remember thinking before Mama died that future-Mala’s life would be boring. Boy was I wrong.
George has the grace to look contrite. “Sorry, Bessie. I’m trying to fall on my sword here. I just received a text from Ernesto. When he got back to the station, the knife was missing. Someone stole it while we were busy at the crime scene.”
“What?” Bessie and I yell in unison.
George ducks his head. A nurse at the check-in counter scowls and puts her finger to her lips, shushing us. I can’t speak anyway. I’m too shocked. “This person had access to the sheriff’s office and a key to the evidence cabinet,” he tells us. “The accomplice strikes again.”
“Oh, damn.” I groan, holding my stomach. I feel sick.
Bessie’s fingers twitch. Either she’s going for her gun or is about to grab George by the ear and march him to the naughty chair for holding back the information for so long. Time for this little witch to make a graceful retreat by using my buzzing phone as my magic wand. I pull it out to see Landry’s text: move ur ass. A quick glance at the door shows Magnolia, Ferdinand, and Etienne walking toward Landry, who waves for me from beside the elevator.
“I have to go.” I pull on a disappointed frown. “My aunt’s here. We’re going to check Sophia out and take her home. I’ll connect with you tomorrow.”
George touches my arm before I perform the next step in my act—vanishing. “Don’t forget Aunt March’s birthday party tomorrow night. You’re going, right?”
Oh crap, I forgot to come up with an excuse to get out of it. “Surely you’re not still partying, with everything going on?”
Georgie’s green eyes narrow. “Our suspect is in custody. He’s not going anywhere.”
“Besides, I have a date,” Bessie murmurs. “I’ll see you there.”
Crud, screwed again. “Yeah, we’ll be there.”
George smiles, but Bessie nods without meeting my eyes. “Good, we’ll talk more over cake.” She retreats down the hall with her work phone glued to her ear. If I were her, I would be investigating how someone could steal from the evidence room without getting caught on video surveillance. The problem is that it doesn’t take much magic to burn out a camera.
I find it interesting this happened now that Magnolia’s in town. Did she bring someone in? Or does the accomplice live in Paradise Pointe? I start to think about the people I know, ’cause lately the line between bad guy and friend has worn thin. I hate to suspect the people who are closest to me, but…I do.
Chapter 22
Landry
Adrift
I lead the group through the hospital. Sophia said she would meet us at Dena’s room. With each step, my anxiety about what will happen grows. I turn to the one creature that might give me some assurances.
“Hey? You there?” My internal bellow reverberates off the back of my skull. An echo in the emptiness. The snake has been unusually quiet today, like it’s gathering its energy. Even without it speaking, I sense its building restlessness. I just wish it would give me a hint about what to expect. Or confirmation of my suspicions that all the craziness around us stems from Magnolia, and we’re just pieces on the board for her to move around and discard at will.
I don’t know what I expected to gain from stupidly challenging Magnolia earlier. My rebellion didn’t get me far. She slapped me down as easily as squashing a mosquito, and about as remorselessly too. The only thing I did confirm was my suspicion that she has been working for a long time toward furthering her hidden agenda. She left me alive for a reason. And while I’d like to believe she’s on our side, I’d be three kinds of fool to do so.
Sophia seems like the sort to jump off a burning ship and throw mothers and children overboard into the frigid water to make room for herself in the lifeboat without a sliver of remorse. Yet she told us not to trust Magnolia. If the queen learns about this, she won’t take such a betrayal lightly. I can see a skinned, deep frying in Sophia’s future if she’s not careful.
Still I won’t complain. I’ve got my guard up now. So does Mala.
Sophia waits for us in front of Dena’s room. A small, white bandage stands out against her skin. She brushes a lock of hair over her shoulder. “I’ve taken care of the nurses. They won’t disturb us for a few hours.”
“How?” I ask. “Did you fix a spell?”
“Of course she did,” Mala begins, only to trail off when Sophia rolls her eyes.
“Children,
please. Why use a spell when a wad of cash works equally well?” She holds open the door for Magnolia. The old woman smiles and sweeps into the room. Mala follows, but when I try to enter, the door slams shut on me.
I pound my fist into it. “Hey, let me in.”
Ferdinand grips my shoulder. “That isn’t the place for one such as yourself.”
“Why the hell not?”
The big guy takes up guard position on the left side of the door and crosses his arms. “Having been pulled back once from the land of the dead, do you want it to notice you again? It’s had a taste of your soul. It will try to suck you back.”
I shiver, remembering the burning of the darkness that tried to pull me down its maw. If Mala hadn’t held on for as long as she did, or if Lainey hadn’t drawn me back, I wouldn’t be here. And I wouldn’t have El Creepy in my head. “Is this true?”
The rustle of scales fills my mind. “Why do you think I hide, host? I’m not keen on going back into the dark any more than you.”
“Oh? So if I go in there, you might get sucked out of my head?” My hand reaches for the door, ’cause hell, this is the first clue I’ve gotten about how to rid myself of this pest.
My open fingers freeze an inch from the doorknob. No matter how hard I strain, I can’t get my arm to move any closer. “Cut it out,” I say. “You’re breaking your promise.”
“So are you.”
“Who are you speaking to?” Ferdinand stares down at my trembling hand and then meets my eyes. “The rider? Does he control you now?”
I grit my teeth. “He says if I go into that room he’ll get swept back into hell.”
“You exaggerate, host.”
“So you won’t go to hell? Or back to the cave I found you in?”
“I’m here for a purpose. You would be a fool to give up your advantage when you need me the most. And you know it.” My hand drops to my side, no longer out of my control. “Trust is a two-way street.”
I lean against the wall with a sigh.
Ferdinand slaps a hand on my shoulder, and I flinch. “Are you in control?” he asks.
