Chapter Five
Sera smiled as she reached the door to Jazzel’s room. If the high-pitched squeaking from the mattress hadn’t given the little girl away, her laughter would have. Jumping on the bed and having a ball. Sera was torn between going in and putting a stop to the shenanigans or letting Jazz play. Of course if Connor heard the ruckus, he’d not be happy in the least. Maybe just one more minute—
“Hank, watch this! I can jump from the bed to the chair!”
Sera tried to yell, “No!” but her heart had lodged in her throat, making speech impossible. She grabbed the handle and swung the door open, her heart beating so fast she thought her head would explode from the pressure.
Jazz screamed and fell to the bed, her pink night gown flaring out like a parachute as she landed. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her head. Invisible.
The dog stood between the bed and door, hackles raised.
“You bite me and I’ll bite you back.” Sera stepped into the room and shut the door with a soft click. The dog relaxed, turned in a circled, and laid down on the rug, essentially dismissing her. She rolled her eyes. Still miffed about the bath, no doubt.
Sera put her hands out in front of her like a mummy and grunted. She stomped to the bed. “Who’s sleeping in my bed?”
The blanket came to life as Jazz wiggled and giggled.
“Who’s. Sleeping. In. My. Bed?” Sera made her voice deep and exaggerated her speech.
The squeals grew louder, the blankets hopped and skipped on the bed.
Sera tackled the squirming child and tickled her through the blankets. “Who’s… sleeping… in… my… bed!”
Jazz pulled the blanket off her head. “Me!” Her laughter was infections.
Sera planted wet kisses all over the little girl’s face, making her squeal louder.
“Stop! Stop! My laughs are too tired to laugh anymore!”
With a final kiss and hug, Sera quit torturing Jazz. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”
“Aw… can’t I watch cartoons?”
“Not tonight. I’ll read you a story, though. What would you like for me to read?”
“Llama, Llama!”
“Really? You still like that story?” The last night before Sera left home to be with Connor, Jazz had insisted she read the book over and over until Sera had lost count.
“Pleassssseeee…”
“Ugh. Fine. But only one time. Did you pack it?”
Jazz snuggled deeper into the mattress and put the pillow over her face before pointing toward the night stand. “How about two times?” The girl was a politician already.
Sera leaned over to retrieve the book from the pile. She was a negotiator herself. “I’ll read it twice if you tell me why you named the dog Hank?”
Jazz pulled the pillow from her head and said, “’Cuz that’s his name.” She covered her face back up and wiggled around again.
Sera bit her tongue to keep from snapping. Patience, Sera. She’s only four. “Okay… but who said to call the dog Hank?”
“Ugh! He did! And you know what, Ser-Ser? Mama was real mad at Hank. Said he was… It’s a bad word and I’m not ’posed to say bad words.”
“I think it’s okay this one time if you tell me what Mother called Hank.”
“She called him a dumbass!” Jazz covered her face with the pillow and squealed.
Sera glanced at the dog on the floor. His ears twitched. “Sounds familiar.”
Jazz jumped up on her knees and put her arms around Sera’s neck. “Mama threatened to take Hank to the Human ’Ciety, and he peed on her shoe. I told him he was ’posed to do that in the bathroom if he wanted to get a sticker. Why doesn’t Hank have to wear clothes? I have to wear clothes.”
“Hank’s fur is his clothes. Do you know why Mother threatened to take Hank to the Humane Society?”
Jazz nodded so vigorously Sera was sure it would snap off. It nearly toppled her from the bed, and she had to grab the bed post to steady herself.
“You do? How do you know?”
The little girl cast her gaze down, shoulders slumped, her bottom lip jutting out, quivering.
Sera hooked her finger under Jazz’s chin and tipped her face up. “It’s okay, Jazzel Dazzle, you can tell me.”
Eyes wide, the little girl glanced at the dog and back. “I’m not ’posed to listen.”
“Curious Georgette,” Hank growled.
Sera narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you going to explain to me what she means?”
“It means she’s a nosey butt.”
“Runs in the family,” Sera shot back.
“She reads minds, Sera.”
She furrowed her brow. “Reads minds?”
“I listen to people on the inside. Mama said I shouldn’t. I promised I wouldn’t. But sometimes I can’t help it.”
I wonder if Jazz can read my thoughts?
“Yep!” Jazz yelled, startling Sera.
Was she saying yes to me?
Jazz groaned and said, “Yes,” at the same time that Hank growled, “Yes.”
“What number am I thinking about?” Thirteen.
Jazz didn’t pause in her rolling around on the bed as she answered, “Thirteen.”
“What color am I thinking of?” Orange.
“I don’t like orange. I like pink. Think pink!”
Can I read minds? “Why don’t you think about a color and I’ll guess it.”
Jazz jumped up and down on her knees. “Yay! Okay, I’m thinking about the color purple!”
Did Hank just laugh?
“You aren’t supposed to tell me what color you’re thinking.”
“Well, you told me what color you were thinking.”
This is so surreal. So freaky.
“Did I do something wrong? Are you mad ’cuz I listened?” Her voice trembled, and tears pooled in her big blue eyes.
The dejection marring Jazz’s beautiful face broke Sera’s heart. Hank growled, “Damn,” and jumped on the bed, planting slobbery kisses on the little girl’s chubby cheek.
“No, Jazzy. You didn’t do anything wrong at all.”
The hair on Hank’s back stood on end. He bared his teeth and let out a vicious growl as he made his way to stand at the foot of the bed, his attention settling on the chair to the left of the fireplace.
Jazz burst into tears. “Ma-Ma-Mama is yelling at me. She says listening will get me in trouble.”
A chill ran up and down Sera’s spine. “Mother is here?” Sera glanced around the room frantically.
“She is. And not happy,” Hank answered.
“Hank, can you hear her?” Sera squinted her eyes and concentrated hard on the spot Hank and Jazz seemed to be mesmerized by. She saw nothing, but the temperature in the room had dropped by at least ten degrees.
“No. Only see her.” He went back to growling.
I wish I could see her.
“No you don’t. She’s really mad. She’s calling you Sera. She never calls you anything but Seraphina. Am I in big trouble now?” Jazz’s sobbing cries became uncontrollable wailing.
Sera hugged her close. “No, baby, you are not in trouble at all.”
“Then why is Mama yelling? I’m not ’posed to peek at what people are thinking. She says no one listened to her, but I always listened to her.”
“She isn’t mad at you, sweetheart. I promise. I asked you to tell me what I was thinking.” A sharp jolt of anger shot through Sera. “Tell her, Mother. Tell her everything is fine.”
Jazz buried her face against Sera and cried harder.
Hank backed up and stood right in front of them, nearly falling over them. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“She’s right at the foot of the bed. She’s — holy mother f—”
“Hank!” Sera snapped.
“Serephina.” The name seemed to whisper across Sera’s skin. It took a moment for her to realize she hadn’t imagined it. “Save her, Seraphina.”
A light b
reeze caressed Sera’s cheek, almost like fingertips. Gooseflesh spread across her shoulder and down her arms, making her shiver.
Jazz cuddled closer, her face pressed to Sera’s chest. Sera stroked her hair with one hand and draped the other protectively around the little girl’s shoulder.
“Seraphina.”
“Mama doesn’t sound mad now. She sounds sad.”
Sera would describe her mother’s voice as more desperate than sad. But why? How she wished she could see Muriel’s face.
“Did you hear that, Ser-Ser?”
“No I didn’t, sweetie. What?”
“Mama said don’t be afraid to use your gift.”
Sera felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “Is she still here?”
She took the book and opened it. “Uh huh. She says she can’t leave ’til the evil is gone.”
Confused, Sera asked, “What evil? What does she mean?”
The only answer she received was a shrug. “Will you read now?”
“Sure, sweetie.”
“Two times! You promised.”
“I know I did.” She kissed the top of Jazz’s hair and started reading. Her mind far from the words she tried to make come alive. No four-year-old should understand death, ghosts… evil the way Jazz did. Sera sure as hell didn’t.
Inner Flame Page 7
