Bewitching Belle

by Debra Kristi

  I step closer and meld my hand to the side of her face. “I think it’s my right to worry about you.” She smiles and the room buzzes, warms. A magnetic pull drags me closer to her, to her lips.

  A banging on the front door thumps, thumps, followed by a triple punch of the doorbell. The urgency implied can only come from Michael. The moment broken, Luna and I step back. Miri gets the door, and he rushes into the house with quick thundering steps that bring him straight toward me. Miri and Grandma follow in his wake at a slower pace.

  “Where is she?” he asks, coming to a pause beside me and Luna in the hallway.

  “She’s in there.” I nod by head toward the bathroom. “She hasn’t…”

  The bathroom door flies open, and Mom steps into the hallway wrapped in a robe. “Mike.” She pulls him into an embrace.

  The house phone begins to ring, and Miri steps into Grandma’s room to grab the call.

  Michael and Mom silently embrace, and the rest of us shift in our spaces, scratch at our skin. A moment or two passes by the time they finally separate.

  “I’m so glad to see you better, but I don’t understand,” Michael says. “Tell me how this happened.”

  “Bastian,” I blurt.

  “That’s crazy,” Michael interjects.

  “It was the cat. I witnessed the whole thing.” Luna grabs my hand and twines her fingers through mine.”

  Michael’s lips purse and he tilts his head. “Well, then. Guess the fur bag finally earned his keep.”

  Miri dashes into the hallway. “That was Phillip on the phone,” she says, her voice sharp and tight. “He says he just got word that Caleb has lapsed into a coma.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I’m still reeling from the news about Caleb when Mom and I settle into the car with Michael for a ride home to Algiers. Mom sits in the front passenger seat, and I take the back, along with my big travel bag. My bike is shoved in the trunk with the lid tied down.

  Did Caleb lapse into a coma because Bastian inhaled his dark essence?

  After an hour of family catch up time at Grandma’s, Luna had to excuse herself to check on her own parents. Grandma and Miri reluctantly let Mom win the argument for her to return home, but few people are able to stand up to my mom when she makes up her mind. Her nature is stubborn and unwavering.

  At the Algiers’ house, when mom unlocks the front door and steps inside, and Michael and I are unloading my bike, I finally get a moment to talk to him alone.

  “That girl from your school told me you borrowed her power the night Caleb burned down the house and that’s how you got your scar. Is that true?” I ask.

  “It’s a watered-down explanation,” he says, works on the knotted ropes holding the trunk closed. “But, yes.”

  “Why borrow. Don’t you have your own magick?” I cross my arms.

  “Of course, I have my own power. You’ve witnessed as much when I worked with you, your coven, your friend.” He yanks the rope free, and the trunk lid pops open. “When I borrow, I am able to increase my strength beyond measure. And the ability to borrow, appears to be a part of my unique talent.”

  “Could you have borrowed from the bokor, used his own power against him?” I place my palm against the back fender and lean into the car.

  “Interesting thought. I may have to investigate being able to do something like that.” He rubs his neck and stares into a void.

  “Did you borrow power the other night?” I ask. “Against Chuks?”

  “I did. From your friends. But they didn’t have a lot of strength to lend, and I didn’t want to weaken you with a borrow, given you were still standing, and I wanted you to be able to fight back, if needed.”

  “You weaken those you borrow from?” He nods. “So… you borrowed and still, the bokor won. He put a serious whammy on you,” I say. “Are you honestly alright?”

  “Physically? Yes.” He pulls the bike from the trunk and drops its tires to the sidewalk. “Mentally? The verdict is still out. Listen, Belle.” He leans the bike against the side of the car and grabs my arms. “It’s time to be safe and stay clear of that man’s business. What happened the other night is no joke.”

  “Yeah.” I drop my head. “I got that message loud and clear.”

  “And stay away from anyone who may work with him or Caleb, for that matter. None of them are healthy for you,” he adds.

  I nod. “Like that toothy girl who wanted me to deliver that message.”

  “Exactly. Avoid that vamp and any talk about Caleb’s boss or soul-generated batteries. I want you to drop it all.” His gaze is stern, and he cuts his hands through the air as if slicing through any ties between me and the subjects mentioned. “Got it?”

  “But what of the souls? Doesn’t that mean they’re killing people to access their energy?”

  “Not necessarily. But whether they are or aren’t, you aren’t strong enough to take them on so don’t even try.” He straightens and drops his fists on his hips. “That fight is for others of greater strength.”

  I suck back a breath. “You know where it is, don’t you?”

  “Where what is?” He jerks.

  “Where they are stashing all the souls to create their high energy battery.” I cross my arms.

  “I don’t.” His shoulders droop. “I only have suspicions, and that alone is enough to be dangerous… for me and for you. So, I recommend we drop the matter.”

  “Mike!” I lean forward, sense the sidewalk swaying up to meet me, so I slam my hand upon the car to steady myself. “If you know something and we do nothing, then we are as bad as those who are committing the crime.”

  “Are we really, Belle?” He tilts his head. “Does it make us bad people because we want to stay alive, and because we want to keep our loved ones safe and well?”

  “I.” My mouth drops open and I stare at him. What if doing the right thing means we might die? “I. I,” I stammer and shake my head. I don’t know how I feel.

  “I want you to go inside and rest. You’re still recuperating from the other day.” He jerks his head, motioning to me.

  “Hey, you two,” Mom calls from the front door. “Are you going to come in or stand beside the car all day?”

  “Fine,” I say and sigh. “I’m giving you a pass for now,” I say to Michael. “But this is not the last time this matter will be discussed.”

  “We’ll see,” he replies and grabs my bag from the backseat, hands it to me, then rolls my bike to the backyard. I join my mom inside.

  I’m on edge for the rest of the weekend, watching for any sign that there’s something not right with my mom. She now understands everything that happened to her, even the things she doesn’t remember. A long discussion at Grandma’s, followed by a more intimate one with just me and Michael at the Algiers house, got her caught up on pretty much everything. And I do mean, everything. By Monday, she feels confident enough to return to normal living, grocery shopping, laundry, job.

  I hate watching her go back to work. I think she should take some time off, but she tells me we can’t afford that, plus she’s on the boss’s bad side, having recently missed so much work without word. “In fact,” she says. “I’m lucky to still have a job.”

  I should have called mom’s boss and made some sort of excuse for her after we confined her at Grandma’s and began working to remove Caleb’s influence. All the should-haves are always so much clearer in hindsight.

  Returning to school is well… the days roll by at a forever slow pace. I’m listless, irritable, and tired. James and Jeanna are quieter than usual and half of James’s face is a large, painful reminder of our defeat at the hands of the bokor and his men. Something James’s brother is a part of. Our Monday meetup is cancelled, but we agree to gather on Friday for the new moon.

  I’m unable to get ahold of Luna on Monday, and so I am left to wonder and speculate. I find myself obsessing over all the things that happened. All the things we did. And all the things we didn’t do but could have. And ou
r kiss. It plays over and over in my thoughts.

  Tuesday brings rain and a return call from Luna in the evening.

  "Sorry I didn’t call you back yesterday,” she says. “It was beyond crazy. But I think we’re somewhat settled now.”

  “How’s your mom doing?” I ask, pulling the phone cord across the room and taking a seat at the table.

  “She’s physically better.” There’s a strange hesitancy in Luna’s voice, and my skin tingles. “She’s been acting different, though. Kind of weird.” Luna falls silent for a moment. “Is that normal?”

  “Weird in what way?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. It’s just, she looks like my mom, and she knows all the things my mom would know, but…” She takes a deep breath. “She just doesn’t feel like my mom, if that makes sense.”

  “I get it,” I say and think of the way my mom was when Caleb was controlling her. “Do you want me to come there and help?”

  “No. It will be fine. Her sister should be arriving later this evening. She’ll help me,” Luna says, then asks me several questions about my own mom. Our phone conversation ends far too soon with a “miss you” and “see you soon.” We both have obligations, so we agree to talk again soon. Very soon.

  Friday brings more rain and the new moon. James, Jeanna, and I gather, drink our new moon tea, meditate on our desires and choices, and perform our individual rituals. I distribute invitations to Miri’s bachelorette party, two weeks out, and we call Luna as a group, learn her father is doing exceptionally well. He’s talking, functioning as a well-rounded person, and almost remembers Luna and her mom. Luna’s Aunt is looking into having Mrs. Flores evaluated by a psychiatrist because something is terribly off about her.

  My thoughts, that something can’t be fixed by any psychiatrist. The bokor Chuks probably caused the problem, and the bokor Chuks is likely the only one who can properly fix it.

  “This weekend is my mom’s birthday,” James says at the following Monday meeting. We’re sitting around the table, and Jeanna is shuffling a deck of tarot cards. “John and I are actually working together for a change. Can you believe that? We’re planning on taking her to Commander’s Palace.”

  “Ohlala,” Jeanna says with a flair of her hand.

  My back snaps straight. “This might sound strange, but if I gave you a letter would you deliver it to your brother?”

  “Um, yeah.” James shakes his head as if to suggest my question is silly. “But why would you want to give anything to my brother?”

  “It’s just something I feel driven to do. Will you help me without bombarding me with questions?”

  James leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and considers me before answering. One edge of his lips curve upward. “Guess so.”

  That evening, I write and rewrite a letter to Chuks the bokor.

  Mr. Bokor,

  I understand that the existence of my family within the French Quarter, much less New Orleans, is upsetting to you. There’s not much I can do about that, and I am sorry you find it bothersome. You have also not taken kindly to my interference in your business and that I get. Do you have family of your own? If you do, then you may understand the importance of those relationships, blood or otherwise. By extension, Mr. and Mrs. Flores are family to me. One of which you zombified and the other you infected, all to get to Luna Flores, someone who is quickly becoming close family to me. The kind of family one would do anything for. You understand that, don’t you?

  I’ll make you a deal: Promise to leave the Flores family alone, cut any ties to them, and forgive them any debts, and I will see that my family stays 100% out of your business for the next several decades.

  Respectfully,

  Mirabelle Roussard

  I stare at the letter. Reread it multiple times. Finding no edits I wish to make, I fold it and seal it in an envelope, write Bokor Chuks across the front. I then write another letter to James’s brother John. The second letter is simple and short, merely requesting he deliver the letter to Chuks on my behalf. I seal the second letter along with the letter to Chuks in one larger envelope. Hand it to James at school the next day.

  That day and the days that follow are filled with rain, Mardi Gras activities and crowds, and even a few thunderstorms. The wet weather managed to sustain my garden in my absence… thankfully.

  It seems like forever since I’ve been able to get more than a thirty-minute phone conversation with Luna. So much responsibility has been thrust on her, and the separation weighs upon me, but come Friday the fourteenth, Valentine’s Day, her Aunt drops her off for a surprise visit.

  I drag her into the house and throw my arms around her, kiss her tenderly, then hug her intensely, deciding I may never let her go. The warmth of her embrace is like the home I never want to be without. After pickup times are arranged, Luna and I settle in the kitchen and get busy making heart shaped cookies covered in red and pink frosting. So, cliché but we do enjoy devouring them. Mom does too.

  The phone rings and, in a slow swing, Mom snags the receiver from the wall. “Hello,” she says. “Hello?” She pulls the phone away from her ear and tilts her head away.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Must be weather interference from the thunderstorm. It’s nothing but static and a bunch of random clicks.

  “What?” I spin from the counter, and stare at my mom. Clicks? Like the calls she used to receive. Only then, it triggered her to follow Caleb’s preprogrammed behavior. At least, that doesn’t appear to be happening now. I jolt forward and dash to her side. “Let me take a listen.” I take the phone from her care and place it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “I hope you are behaving yourself,” the bokor says.

  “And if I’m not?” I question.

  “I’d hate to see Mrs. Flores’ condition worsen.”

  “She’s all better now,” I blurt. “Whatever you did, didn’t take.”

  “Are you sure about that?” he says.

  I gasp and consider all the things Luna has mentioned about her mother’s strange behavior.

  “I have my fingers in everything,” he says, as if answering my unasked question.

  I hang up the phone. It’s Friday. James said he was seeing his brother on the weekend. Which means, my letter hasn’t yet been delivered. Was it a mistake to write it?

  “Who was on the phone?” Mom asks.

  “No one important.” I shake my thoughts away and grab Luna, drag her to my room. Drop to a sit on the bed. Luna takes a seat beside me.

  “It was the bokor.” My fingers scratch at the bedding beneath my touch.

  Luna jolts straight. “The bokor called here?”

  “Yep.”

  “What did he want?” My mother asks from the doorway.

  Luna and I jump, then snap our attention to Mom. She steps into the room and crosses her arms.

  “After all that I just went through with the possession and the loss of control, you can tell me if you are sinking into a dark magick dilemma. I have the right to know.” She narrows her gaze on mine.

  “Right. Um…” I glance at Luna and she blinks back with a clear desire to know. “Well. Personally, I think he called to basically let me know he’s watching, and he wants to make sure we’ll stay out of his business going forward.”

  “Which you will, right?” Mom lifts and drops her chin.

  “After what happened last time, yeah. That was the plan,” I say. “But…” I glance from my mom to Luna. “He basically implied that he has something to do with Mrs. Flores’ current condition. Which I sorta already suspected.”

  Luna gasps and presses her hands deep into the surface of the bed. Mom inhales and her lips purse.

  “Well… we can’t let Luna’s mom suffer anything near what I recently endured,” Mom says. “We’re gonna have to make a plan to undo whatever voodoo he’s cast upon her.”

  My back pulls taut, and I stare at my mom. The woman standing before me, the one willing to take on magic, is new… or newly
empowered. I may need to get to know my mom on a whole new level. What did Caleb’s possession do to her? Or what did the absence of his influence free her from? I’m used to her talking around magick, not facing it dead on.

  She tells me and Luna that she knows a few people and she is going to make a few inquiries. See if she can get to the bottom of Mrs. Flores’ entanglement. She also tells us we should go about our days as if everything is normal. It’s going to take time to reach the necessary contacts, make the proper connections, and nothing can be done until we have all the crucial information.

  And so, that’s what we do. Go about our business as if the bokor had never called or teased me with the information about Luna’s mom. A task that is easier imagined than executed. In each phone call shared with Luna, there is a tension in her voice that matches that of my muscles and nerves.

  Of course, we don’t know if anything the bokor implied is true. He could have been tossing around lies and threats, hoping to get me shaking and crumbling. Crying with fear. But I’m not doing any of that, and I won’t.

  With Miri’s wedding day a mere week away and her bachelorette party even sooner, Luna, Mom, and I are pushed into an anxious wait before any action can be taken. But I for one don’t want to be responsible for mucking up Phillip and Miri’s special day.

  In the slower moments of the days, I busy myself finishing Miri’s blessing and birthing beads and then baking too many goodies. I clean and iron my apron and restock my preferred spices. Check in with Michael, make sure he’s continuing to heal after what the bokor did to him. He tells me Bianca, the girl at his school with the similar face scar, got him a cell phone. Figured it would come in handy with the constant family drama. I don’t doubt that it will.

  Rain welcomes the day of the bachelorette party. After school, James, Jeanna, and I pile into the car with Mom, head to Grandma’s for a low-key day of girlie fun with Miri. My brother, Phillip, and a few of his firemen friends, have their own evening of celebration planned.

  When we arrive, Luna is already standing on the front porch, gift in hand. She waits for us to exit the car before knocking on the front door. When she does, Grandma yanks open the barrier immediately. Bastian saunters out and rubs against all our feet in turn.