by Angie Sandro
Mala doesn’t struggle. All the tension rushes from her body, and she wilts against my chest. Her head tilts back, and I press my cheek against hers. Her shaking hand reaches up to cup my face. “I know you wouldn’t leave me on purpose,” she whispers.
I release the breath I’ve been holding since I confessed, but my fear doesn’t drain away. “Do you? Because I don’t.” My arms tighten. “If it means keeping you safe, I’ll sacrifice almost anything. Including my life.”
Mala’s breath rushes out. “And I’d do the same for you.” She twists in my arms and slaps her palms on my chest for emphasis, like I don’t get how serious she is from the growl in her voice. “So in the future, don’t go trying to play the martyr. If you do, we both die. Magnolia will win. And our ghosts will feel stupid for falling into her trap. The goal is survival. No matter what happens next. We draw on our love for one another and use it to fling back anything she throws at us.”
I chuckle and press a kiss on the tip of her flaring nose. “Fierce words.”
“It took me a long time to accept the fact that you love me. Even longer to figure out how I feel about you. You know how afraid I was of opening my heart. I don’t think I could do it again if something happened to you.” She lays her head on my chest. “I know it’s cheesy, but you’re my soul mate. Our fates are linked, Frog Prince. You’re the person destined to be by my side in this life and the next. And no matter where you go, I promise I’ll find you. Even if I have to cross over to the other side and drag you back.”
The image of her wearing a holster of knives, a skimpy shirt, and cutoff jeans like Lara Croft pops into my head. Her juicy ass marches up to the gates of heaven and kicks them in like they’re made of matchsticks.
A grin stretches my lips. “Holy shit, you’d do it too. You’d take out those chubby cherubs with their own harps.”
A tiny frown creases her brow and her nose wrinkles. She cracks her knuckles against my chest. “I’ll take out anyone and anything that gets in my way.”
Love this girl. My laugh erupts so hard the muscles in my abdomen cramp. I release her to double over, rubbing my side. It would help ease the pain if I could stop laughing, but I can’t contain the snorts and gasps for air. Tears run from my eye, and I wipe them on my sleeve.
A glance upward shows her lips twitching as she tries to fake a pout. Soon she gives up and smiles, saying, “You’d do the same for me.”
“Of course,” I say indignantly. “Think I’ve spent years pining for you to allow you to get away now? Not likely. Anyway, enough. I can’t take any more of this destiny shit. I say from now on, we make our own.”
“Yep, we’re makin’ our own rules.”
I roll my eye and slap her pert little ass as she strides down the path. She squeaks and hops forward, rubbing the spot. If we had a bit more time to hide out from the real world, I’d take her against that tree. Well, maybe not that exact tree, since it’s covered in poison ivy.
Before I can find another spot, the bushes up ahead rustle. Carl steps out from behind a tree, zipping his pants, and does a double take. His face flushes, but he rushes over, talking fast, “Hey, it’s about time you got here. I’ve been waiting for an hour. My mom’s at the house with George and Reverend Prince. She keeps crying, but I can’t tell if she’s happy or sad. She said Judd’s dead, which sucks for her. I say he brought it on himself by being a prick.”
Mala’s dark eyes tilt down at the corners. “Carl, he was a human being.”
He runs his fingers through his mop of blond hair. “Was he? He almost killed mom and he shot at you and Landry. Axle could’ve caught a stray bullet and been killed just like the dead kid George found in his trunk.”
Now I’m scowling. “You’re right. All of that happened.”
Mala puts her hand on Carl’s arm. “The doctor thinks Judd’s behavior was caused by bleeding in his brain. That’s what caused him to go crazy and ended up killing him.”
“That’s the official story,” I say. “You should know the truth. Judd wasn’t a bad person. He was possessed by a spirit. And it ended up killing him in the end.”
Carl stares from Mala to me. “Then he didn’t do all those things?”
“He did, but not of his own free will. I don’t think,” I say. “The problem is that just because Judd’s dead doesn’t mean there’s no longer any danger. Whatever possessed him is still out there. So stay on guard. Protect your brothers.”
Carl nods. His shoulders slump and then straighten as the weight of responsibility settles on them. “George is waiting for you at the house. Said to tell you he brought the stuff you asked for so hurry up. Seems the SO got an anonymous tip about there being another murder site on your land. They plan to search your property.”
Mala and I quicken our pace to match Carl’s. He doesn’t comment on our silence in the face of his breaking news, too wrapped up in his own worries to care about ours.
“Mom said Dena woke up yesterday.” His eyes cut toward Mala with a mingling of fear and awe. “Did you do it? Wake her up?” At her nod, he shakes his head. “What about Red?”
“He passed.”
“You really killed him?”
The color drains from Mala’s face.
I grab the kid by the arm. “She didn’t kill him. He passed over to the other side. It was him or your sister.”
Carl jerks his arm free. “I know. Don’t get all pissy. I just wanted to be sure he wouldn’t wake up and come after her again. I know he was torturing her.”
“How do you know all that?” I ask.
His cheeks turn red. “I-I felt her…Dee. Maybe I stayed connected to both of you after I helped break Mala free from the spirit trap. When you and Mala went inside Dee’s head, I was sucked in too. Not all the way. I still saw the real world. But I also watched your fight with Red, like I was watching a movie in my head.”
He nods toward me. “I saw you holding onto Mala and Dena. And your sister grabbed Red and jumped through the sparkly hole. It seemed real, but I thought it couldn’t be until I heard Dena woke up.”
Mala presses her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Shit, Landry. What have we done to him?”
“I’m a descendant of Gerard Savoie too.” Carl throws his shoulders back with pride. “Magic runs in our blood.”
“Ha. It’s my LaCroix blood that’s magic.”
Carl steps up until they’re nose-to-nose. “Obviously it’s not. I saw what I saw.”
Her voice rises. “You’re another piece of collateral damage. We broke you.”
“Stop treating me like a kid. I’m fifteen. A hundred years ago I’d be married with kids by now. Give me some credit for once. I kept your secret.”
I shove in between them. “Enough. Stop arguing over something so stupid.”
“She started it.”
“Did not.” Mala huffs and crosses her arms. “I’m just saying the magic comes from the matrilineal line of the family.”
“Stop talking all smart.”
Mala shakes her finger under his nose. “Well if you went to school, you’d—”
“I said enough!” I yell. Okay, they’ve reverted to five-year-olds. So much for giving Carl credit. “You’re both right. My guess is that magic calls to magic. Just like Mala and I found each other, Mala’s ancestor and Gerard Savoie were drawn together. He survived long enough to have kids. My guess is the only man who can survive a LaCroix woman has to have his own brand of magic. And patience. Lots and lots of it,” I finish in a mutter that earns me dirty looks from both of them. They bicker all the way to the house. I give up on stopping them. They’re having too much fun.
George meets us at the top of the staircase. He looks grumpy. “Lord, I could hear you fighting from inside. Keep your voices down. The rev just got Pepper to fall asleep.” He points to Sophia’s suitcase sitting at his feet. “Here’s the stuff you asked for. I couldn’t open the lock, so…” He runs his fingers through his hair, then, catching himself, crosses his arm
s. “There’d better be something in there to help us. Otherwise I’ll lose my job when Bessie figures out that I ‘borrowed’ this from evidence. She’s been on high alert since the knife was stolen.”
“Did you ever figure out who took it?” Mala asks.
“According to the surveillance cameras and alarm code activation, the only person in the building at the time was Deputy Toussaint. What’s really creepy is that, on the video, his face is blurred out, but everything else around him looks fine.”
“What did Tank say?”
“That’s the problem. He’s MIA. His wife called the station this morning freaking out about him not coming home last night. We’ve put an APB out for him. Hopefully we can locate him before it’s too late.”
And he dies like Judd did.
None of us say this out loud, but I bet it’s what we’re all thinking. Tank’s a good man with no earthly reason to steal the knife unless he fell victim to the same spirit that possessed Judd. Mala saw that shadow fly out of Judd’s body when he hit the wall. She didn’t see where it went afterward, but I bet that’s when it entered Tank.
George rolls the suitcase toward Mala. She crouches at his feet and runs her fingertips over the combination lock. The locks pop open. She empties the contents of the suitcase onto the porch. Candles and glass bottles filled with strange liquids roll across the porch. A few leather sachets thump into a pile, along with several books so old I’m surprised they didn’t turn to dust immediately after Mala opened the suitcase. The one I’m interested in is leather with a golden leaf on the cover.
I squat down beside her and reach for it, but Mala snatches it from my grasp. “My preciousss,” she Gollum-hisses with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Geek.
“Is that a spell book?” I ask.
“I think so.” She flips open a page. “It’s handwritten. Isn’t there’s a word for what they call those?”
“Grimoire,” George says. When we stare up at him, the tips of his ears turn red, and he shrugs. “Like I said before, I’ve been studying the occult ever since I learned about Mala’s abilities. I thought having additional knowledge would come in handy.”
“You’re so cool, Georgie,” Mala says with a grin. “I want to be just like my big brother when I grow up.”
I won’t admit it out loud, but so do I. She’s right. He’s smarter than us in more ways than I can count. I hope it’s wisdom I’ll learn with age. But I won’t hold my breath. The truth is, Mala avoids anything magic-related like it’s the plague. I trained with Ferdinand, but who knows whether I can believe anything he taught me. I’ve never cared for studying, so it didn’t occur to me to research this stuff.
Carl uses our distraction to grab the book from Mala’s hand. He scoots away from her wild swing and flips to a page bookmarked with a dried plant that instantly makes Mala sneeze three times in rapid succession.
“Hey, guys. It’s translated into English.” His freckled nose scrunches up the same way Dee’s does. “Whoa, soul swapping. Is this a real thing? And what is a loa? Is that some kind of spirit guardian like Gaston?”
“Oh, I read about those too,” George says. At our sidelong looks, he snaps, “Seriously guys, search engines are the most relevant invention of the modern age. You don’t even have to go to the library to learn all kinds of useful shit. Sue me if I like to know what I’m dealing with.”
His contempt for us mere mortals burns. Whatever. “Speak to us, O Wise One,” I drawl.
George’s jaw clenches at the sarcasm in my tone. “According to Wikipedia, the loa are intermediaries between God and mankind. Kind of like angels, only their followers worship them. And unlike angels, the loa answer their followers’ prayers if given the proper tribute.”
I whistle. “I’m impressed that you think enough of my cognitive skills to explain that with such big words. I feel smarter already for having understood all that.”
If his face flames any hotter, it’ll explode.
Mala tugs on my pant leg, and I back off. She takes the grimoire from Carl and points to an underlined passage. “I think this passage about the loa is what Sophia wanted us to see. Baron LaCroix and his twin brother, Baron Samedi, are considered to be two aspects of the God of Death. One is good. The other not so much.” She taps her lips with a finger. “Do you think it’s coincidental that I have the same last name as the God of Death?”
Suddenly something the creature said makes a wicked sort of sense. I tap my temple, wishing it would wake up and answer my questions. “When we were rescuing Dena, he said that ‘the trap is set.’ He also called Mala his descendant.”
“Do you think he’s like an ancestor spirit only more powerful?” she asks. “Like Gaston.”
“Maybe if Gaston was a gazillion years old. My guess is ancestor spirits grow in power over time. He said he’s a guard and his prisoner escaped. That’s why he’s inside my head. To trap the prisoner and bring it back.”
“Well, if I escaped from prison, I’d do whatever it took not to go back,” she says.
George nods. “Escaped felons are the most dangerous type for an officer to roll up on. They’re desperate and paranoid because they’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. They’ll take you out before you even realize they’re wanted.”
“Which is why we need something to counteract its plan,” I say.
The dispatcher’s voice comes over George’s radio mike, and he steps aside to answer the call. “I’ve got to go. The FBI liaison should be arriving soon. Now that the feds are involved, we’ll have better luck identifying the bodies.”
Mala rolls a candle between her palms. “Will they keep the case open now that Judd’s dead? We both know he’s not the killer.”
“Not unless they get new information from the bodies. The ones from the previous site were pretty burned. Plus they’ve got an open-and-shut case with Judd having the body in the car.”
“Too convenient, right? The real killer planted the body and made sure Judd took the fall. That bastard is going to get away with this.”
“But if we’re lucky, he’ll get one less victim,” George says. “You’ve got a pile of spell books in front of you. I know this kind of magic isn’t what you’re used to. But see if there’s some spell you can cast to help Tank. Please.”
After he leaves, we camp out on the porch, studying the grimoire. I wish I could ask Sophia what to do. From her notes, we figure out that she had been researching two spells. The first spell allows a nonhuman entity, aka demon/angel/loa thingy, to jump from one body into another without killing the new host by removing the original host’s soul—two souls occupying the same body means exploding brains. Case in point, Madame Ruby, Judd, and likely Deputy Toussaint if we don’t find him before it’s too late. The second spell counters the soul-swapping spell, allowing the original host to remain in its own body somehow.
Learning how to cast spells proves to be nap-inducing. B. O. R. I. N. G. Carl gives up after half an hour and goes inside to play Grand Theft Auto with Dad. I crap out after an hour. Squinting at Sophia’s dainty script has my good eye burning with pain. I want to use an ice cream scoop to remove it. Instead of research, I use my time prepping the ingredients for the spell Mala decides to be the one most likely to save Tank’s life.
We move inside when we need to use the kitchen. Mala sits at the table with the spell book and sachets of herbs. She bites on the tip of her tongue as she runs her finger down the page, then meticulously mixes the ingredients from the leather bags into a bowl, using Dena’s glass measuring cups.
Daryl sits across from her with twitching hands. He doesn’t know exactly what she’s concocting since we all agreed that none of the other kids needed to know. But the scientist in him wants to take over. “Are you sure you don’t need help?” he asks for the fifth time.
Mala points to the door. “Get out.”
“But—”
“I told you if you asked one more time you’re out. Go before I call the rev.”
; “You need to steep the leaves.”
“Landry,” she snaps. I usher him to the door.
It’s only when I’m sprinkling dried plants into the pot that I realize I’ve smelled this minty scent before.
“Hey, babe, I think this is that cleanse Sophia wanted you to drink.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Ew, not hardly.”
“You’re not pregnant. There’s no reason not to drink it now.”
“I can’t risk breaking my connection to the murderer. Not yet.” She sprinkles a handful of herbs into the pot and stirs it. “This batch holds enough for two doses. You’ve already taken yours so you’re protected. That makes one for Tank, and later, one for me.”
I glance at the clock over the door. “Let’s wrap this up or you won’t have time to get beautified for the party.”
She brushes a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead. “Damn, I knew I should’ve researched an invisibility spell. Or better yet, an amnesia one. Do you think this will be horribly awkward?”
“The odds are not in your favor.”
“They rarely are.” She sighs. “Okay, I never thought I’d ever have to do this, but I guess it’s time to introduce my boyfriend to my dad. Hopefully he’s not the type to pull out the shotgun.”
I stir the pot, literally and figuratively. “Does that mean I should or shouldn’t ask him for your hand in marriage tonight?”
Her nostrils flare. Her mouth opens, ready to blister my hide, judging by her expression, but a booming voice from behind causes her to choke on her words.
“About time the two of you decided to get hitched,” Dad says. He pats Mala’s shoulder, and she cringes. “Don’t worry, I’ll run interference if G.D. gets out of line.”
Chapter 27
Mala
Party On
Colorful paper lanterns line the sidewalk leading from the driveway to the front door of Aunt March’s mansion. Only a short walk will get me there. Landry even squeezes my hand, urging me forward, but my feet won’t budge. The spiked heels pinch, and my toes cuss me out for the torture I’m putting them through. I order myself to step onto the sidewalk, again, using my best threatening tone. Nothing. It’s now official. I’m the biggest coward this side of the Mississippi.
