by Mia Downing
Those lashes fluttered and opened, and the soft angles disappeared to be replaced with wide-eyed confusion, his jaw tight. “What happened?”
I brushed the hair from his forehead, hoping to soothe him. “You fell asleep, silly.”
“I don’t sleep.” He tried to sit up and failed miserably, his arms and legs failing to cooperate.
“I know that’s what you said, but you must have needed it.”
“Shit.” He ran a hand through his mussed hair, staring at the clock. “We fucked until…”
I tried not to flinch. “One.”
“It’s four.” His gaze swung to me, wild-eyed and accusing. “This is your fault.”
“I didn’t hold you down and hypnotize you.”
“You’ve distorted the magic somehow.” He rose. “Shit. I need clothes.”
“You said the magic would handle it.” I joined him in his panic; I needed the cufflinks. “And you said you’d do a T-shirt and jeans, too.”
He scratched his head. “Why?”
“So my neighbor isn’t as nosy when she sees you leaving. You think you don’t sleep? She never sleeps.” I crossed my fingers behind my back for lying. Well, she was nosy. And she did seem to never sleep. I uncrossed my fingers.
“You don’t get it, Olivia. I haven’t slept in about ten years. There’s no need.” He gulped, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Samuel—”
“Doesn’t need to know,” I interjected, understanding the source of his fear. “Just keep it to yourself. Tell him I was needy or something. I’m sure you can lie.”
“Yes.” He drew in a deep breath, and in a blink, his perfection was encased in tight jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged every muscle. “I need to go.”
“Don’t forget some sneakers or something,” I called as he retreated down the hall.
The door banged behind him, and I slumped in the bed. I had no clue what to think about any of this, except today was the day I’d see Babu.
Maybe today, I’d win back my soul. More importantly, maybe I could find a way to save my mother’s soul, too.
I frowned and shoved away the tiny voice that wanted a hot man and my soul back. Maybe one a little less wicked and twisted than Leo, one who’d also try to be compassionate and—
Who was I kidding? Leo was a demon. He owned my soul. And he’d reap me at any cost.
I guessed I couldn’t have everything, even if I had good luck.
Chapter Seven
At twelve fifty-one, I stood on Babu’s very nice porch, wiping one nervous, damp hand on my skirt. The other clutched the shopping bag with the pie. I went to knock and instead wiped my hand again. Her sprawling ranch house, located in the richest over-fifty community my town had to offer, had been unexpected.
I toed the rocker next to my foot. It squealed and rocked, the faux wood flooring silent in its support.
I’d only met Babu once before at Annie’s home for a family party, and I had expected the older woman to live in a little hovel in the very back of the family farm, her time spent growing herbs and raising goats. Instead, she lived here. Her porch held some herbs and sported a garden flag with a gnome and flowers. It just made no sense.
So many emotions bubbled inside of me as I tugged at my skirt. I’d whispered the enchantment spell she’d had Annie email me moments before I had left so Leo couldn’t track me to her house. I still worried I’d said the words wrong or he’d just show up anyway and flame Babu for helping me.
A crispy and toasted Babu would not forward my plan. And if that scenario happened, Babu would find a way to come back from the dead and make my life more of a misery than it was.
As I raised my hand, the door opened and a tall, willowy woman with short cropped blonde hair and huge hoop earrings poked out her head. She lowered the turquoise glasses from her wrinkled eyes and narrowed them, her sharp gaze impaling me.
A scan from TSA was less invasive. I could almost feel her probing my brain for one hideous second, her eyes widening over a flare of her nostrils. She scrutinized the bag in my hand and then cast a quick scan over my car and her driveway before snapping the glasses back to the bridge of her nose.
“Come,” she said in a lightly accented voice that hinted of the Old World.
I followed her quick, high-heeled steps to the back of the house, through a little foyer and down a hall. I struggled to keep up, holding the pie as protectively as I could. We took a right through a quaint kitchen to a serene little sun room decorated in yellow. The tiny table was set for tea, with dainty cups and a floral tea pot in bone white neatly arranged on a red-and-white checkered cloth. A fountain bubbled peacefully in the corner, and a few well-fed plants lined the window.
Babu gestured to the seat closest to the fountain. “Sit.”
It sounded like seet, but I got it and sat as ordered.
She snatched my cup from the setting and whirled, her fashionable skirt flaring around legs much younger than I expected.
Somehow, I found my tongue. “I don’t get tea?”
“We’re going to need a bigger cup.” Babu glared at me as she returned with a wider cup in her hands. She slammed down the cup in front of me and crossed her arms over her chest. Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes and forehead in a scary way, giving hint at an age far beyond appearances. “You are in deep sheet.”
I think she meant shit.
I licked my lips and swallowed the swirl of bile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to ask.”
“I do this because you were good to my great-granddaughter when no one else cared.” She pointed a finger at me. “You want me to help you save your soul.” Her sneer held such disdain that I shuddered.
“Actually, no.” It had started out that way, but the more I thought about this mess, the more I realized had bigger issues. “I need to know how to save my mother’s. They have her marked but haven’t gotten her to sign a contract. I don’t understand how any of this works, and I just want to keep her safe. I’ll pay with my soul if that’s what it takes to set things right. I just don’t want her to suffer any more than she has.”
Babu recoiled a step and cocked her head, the wrinkles there changing formation as she pondered this. The energy in the room changed from disdain to something less ominous. She nodded in one sharp jab of her head. “I will help you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Whirling, she grabbed my pie bag and stepped into the kitchen. She flicked on a burner, igniting the gas under a copper kettle. “How did you sell your soul?”
“I didn’t mean to. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, and I was drunk, and—” Damn, I didn’t want to mention the virginity part. I shrugged, blushing. “I met a handsome guy at a bar, also looking for a fun time. I didn’t stop to question his motives.”
Babu’s earrings rattled as she shook her head, her back still to me. “Didn’t my Annie warn you?”
Shame blazed my cheeks hotter. “I’m sorry. I just never believed in demons or soul possession or anything of the sort. I figured it was the tequila talking.”
She turned from the stove and set the pie on the counter. She shook a finger in warning. “Next time my Annie tells you stories of the Old World, you listen.”
Hell yes, I’d listen. “Yes, ma’am.”
A moment of quiet passed as Babu unwrapped the pie and scrutinized it. It looked dreadfully homemade, but I’d tasted a piece of the crust and the filling and found it tasty. I had hope.
“Annie told me about your woes of bad luck.” The pie must have passed muster, because her tone softened. “Demons set traps. Did you not listen to that as well?”
“It just didn’t occur to me. It didn’t feel like a trap.” I toyed with my spoon. “I mean, bad luck is bad luck. When my mother gave me candles to burn...” I shrugged. “I don’t—didn’t—believe in Heaven, Hell, demons, or God. I was so desperate I’d do any fool thing someone suggested to get some sort of luck back. I didn’t even care at that point if it was just
neutral luck. I just wanted the bad stuff to stop. When he promised me something better, I took it.”
“Fool.” Babu rolled her eyes and muttered something in Old World language.
She whirled again—slower this time—and carried the two plates of pie to the table. One got plunked down in front of me, and I jumped. Stupid me for jumping again as she slammed the other in her spot.
The kettle whistled. Babu turned off the gas with a snap and carried the singing kettle in, setting it on a hot pad. She adjusted her skirt and sat, then held out her hand to me in a snap of impatience. “Possession.”
I blinked, confused. I wasn’t possessed as well, was I?
Babu rolled her blue eyes again. “I would ask you if you are this much a fool, but you did sell your soul.” She snapped her fingers. “I need the possession. His.”
“Oh.” I withdrew the cufflinks from my pocket and held them out.
She hesitated in taking them, her long fingers twitching.
I cleared my throat. “I said the spell.”
That must have been what she waiting to hear, because she snatched them out of my hand and drew them close to her face, inspecting them down the length of her nose. She turned them this way and that, rolling them over and over in her palm.
This string of Old World utterances sounded like curses, and she looked over at me with wide eyes. “Yes. You are in deep sheet.”
I think she meant shit.
I cleared my throat again, ignoring the fluttering of my increased pulse. “Do you know who he is? Or his father, if that’s what he really is?”
“I know these are old and priceless and bear the symbol of a duke of Hell.”
A duke, huh? That surprised me. “I would have never taken Le—”
“Don’t say his name!” She smacked her free hand down on the table and leaned to glare in my face. “To say his name is to invoke him.”
I bit back a nervous laugh. “Since his name is the same as a movie star’s and has been screamed by women for decades, I don’t think we need to worry.”
She sat back in her chair, her ruffled feathers calming. “Ah. I’m sure you don’t know his real name. If you learn it, do not say it.” She said something at the end of that in Old World that sounded like get it. “His father’s name, too.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So.” She gently set the cufflinks on the table between us. “I will prepare the tea. While you drink yours, I shall drink mine to gain more knowledge about these demons. Yah?”
“Sure.” I gestured to the loose leaf tea she poured into the cups. “I know Annie said you did this a lot. You even found some missing persons using your skills.”
“Yes.” She looked at me over her glasses in between spooning tea into cups. “I also predicted the deaths of seven people. One was my husband.”
Well that was sobering. “I’m dying sooner than later, so I guess we don’t need to worry about that.”
She poured the hot water and handed me the cup of tea. “Your soul reaping will be a horrible fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”
That was even more sobering. I stared into my tea, the leaves floating around merrily as they steeped. Would these leaves hold the secret key to helping my mother?
“So.” Babu cleared her throat, and I snapped my gaze to hers. “You will clear your mind as you drink this tea. You will let the most prominent question come forth, and you will concentrate on that as you drink. Let no other things into your mind. Just your question. Drink until you have a teaspoon of liquid left, and I will instruct you on the rest of the ritual. You get?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Babu closed her eyes, her lips moving in a blur of silent words. She crossed herself three times, and as she opened her eyes and saw me staring, she shrugged. “I say a prayer.”
“Okay.” I figured I was beyond prayer, so I closed my eyes, concentrated on the fountain, and sipped.
The tea held a delicate taste, one laden with notes of orange and a hint of spice. I drank, and concentrated on my question. How did I protect my mother’s soul? How did I save her?
The fountain bubbled. Babu also sipped. For a moment, I was lost in the comforting warmth of the sunshine streaming through the windows and the false sense of safety. That made sense, since my mother was comfort and warmth to me. Before I knew it, my cup was drained down to the prescribed amount.
I opened my eyes and set my cup on the saucer.
“Now,” Babu instructed. “Think your prominent questions and swirl the liquid to the left three times in your left hand.”
I picked the cup up, switched the cup over to the other hand, and followed Babu’s lead.
One. Two. Three.
“Now tip your cup over on the saucer. Same hand.”
I did so, and the liquid drained onto the china, pooling as I covered it with the cup. The clink on porcelain was like a dainty little nail plinking in my coffin.
“Now turn cup three times on the saucer with your left hand while upside down.”
One. Two. Three. The porcelain whirled a beat behind my heart’s thudding. I glanced up.
“Now, think about your question again for the count of seven.”
How. Do. I. Save. My. Mom’s. Soul?
“Turn cup over. Make sure the handle faces you.”
I did so and peered inside. Loose leaf tea was smeared along the sides and bottom in a pretty, dark green pattern with beads of orange.
Babu contemplated my cup, her sharp eyes scanning the leaves from behind her turquoise glasses. At one point she lifted her specs, squinted harder, and returned her glasses with a plop to her nose. She grunted. “What did you sell your soul for?”
“Excuse me?”
“The price.” She snapped her fingers in impatience. “What did you ask for in exchange?”
“Luck. The good kind.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and ogled at me with something that bridged on appreciation. Seeing this was Babu and she didn’t seem to like me much, I could have been reading too much into it. But when she cocked her head and the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth softened, I let hope blossom.
“Your soul is pure, as is your mother’s.”
“Yeah, so Leo says.”
Any good graces I’d been offered disappeared with the utterance of his name. Glaring, she placed a finger to her lips. “Shh.”
“Sorry. It’s a bad habit.”
She grunted and contemplated the leaves again. “They have never had someone ask for good luck. What made you ask for that? Why not money, fame, and fortune?”
“I—” I swallowed. “I don’t know. My luck seemed pretty crappy. I just wanted it to turn around so I could have a normal life.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t want more as you made your deal.”
“Well, I wanted my ex-boyfriend to get a bad case of crabs and my ex-roommate to be cursed with menstrual cramps for an eternity, but as far as I was concerned, I just wanted a streak of good luck. Before all this went down, I had a good job, a fiancé and best friend who both supposedly loved me, and an apartment I liked. My mom was happy and getting married to a guy who seemed to treat her well. I wanted some of that back. I didn’t need more.”
“I see.” For the first time, her lip quirked in almost a smile. “Crabs. Cramps. I like that.”
I blinked back the tears that welled at her appreciation. “Thanks.”
She held out her hand. “Give me your cup.”
I lifted the cup, and it rattled on the saucer since my hands trembled.
“Gently,” she scolded.
She was careful to keep the handle pointed my way as she scanned the cup with the same intense scrutiny she’d given her own. Except the Old World muttering began as she tipped the cup this way and that, turning it slightly. “Your good luck wish…it makes holes in contract. It makes holes in their power.”
I was beginning to sense this. Leo couldn’t just zap into my apartment and had slept. Samuel see
med to struggle to read my mind. The fact that I had convinced my mother to go against his wishes had burned him. Both were frustrated with me and had let slip that I shouldn’t be able to control things.
But having her admit it gave me hope. I leaned forward on my elbows, eager for more. “Yes, you’re right.”
“Your contract isn’t…finished.”
“No.” The more she seemed to get right on her own, the more faith grew. “He won’t tell me how long he’ll let me live.”
“And you’re able to push the lines of the contract. Yah?”
“I think so. I’m not sure how far, but they don’t like the fact that I can make choices about my luck.”
“No, a demon would not like that.” She nodded with approval as she turned the cup again. “You keep making the right choice, yah? Don’t let them tarnish you. You live longer that way.”
“That’s what I thought.” Confidence bubbled forth. Here I was, doing all the right things with no experience. That was better than good luck.
She put both cups side by side and compared them, glancing from side to side with a deep, concentrated frown.
I leaned forward to peer into the cups, too, almost standing.
Her gaze popped up. “Seet!”
I sat.
Her perusal continued for what seemed an eternity. The clock in the kitchen kept time, each second louder than the last. How I heard that over my pounding heart, I had no clue. I wiped my damp palms on my skirt. Once, twice, three times. At this rate, I’d wear the fabric away and be left with shreds.
“Hmm.” She tapped her finger to her lips.
“Well?”
“Shh.” She held up that same finger and studied the tea a moment more.
Her chair scooted across the floor, and she rose, skirt whirling as she grabbed a book from a wire baking shelf in the corner. The battered cover and tattered pages puffed a little dust that burst into a cloud as she plopped it down on the table and opened it. One page rattled and then another as they turned. Her fingers pressed the book open, and one crooked digit followed hasty lines, her mouth moving with silent words I couldn’t catch.
