by Terri Garey
“And you’re just now telling me this?” His outrage was only partly for effect. “First floor elevator, going up to the next level.”
“Shut up and drink your wine.”
As tempted as I was to live up to my earlier threat to jump naked into Jell-O and call myself dessert, I’d decided to cook something for Joe.
And it had nothing to do with Evan’s stupid theories.
Spaghetti was easy, and I had everything I needed in the pantry and the freezer. Once Evan left, I got to work, and by the time Joe rang the doorbell at half past eight, the house smelled like tomato sauce and garlic bread.
“You look good enough to eat,” Joe said as he came in. “Mmm,” he added, burying his face in my neck, “smell good, too.”
“It’s the basil,” I said teasingly, hugging him tight. “Gets ’em every time.”
Joe laughed and let me go, following me into the kitchen. “I brought you something,” he said.
“You did?” How sweet.
“I brought you some pictures.” Joe was holding a small envelope. He waved it at me before tossing it on the counter. “I thought you might like to see more pictures of Kelly.” He shrugged, playing it cool. “Not right this second, I mean, but whenever you want to. In private.”
The reminder of Kelly made me nervous, but the gesture really was kinda sweet. If Joe was going to track down his ex-wife, I’d have to deal with the possibility of her being my sister sooner or later. Might as well prepare myself.
“Thanks.” I gave him a sideways smile as I took the bread from the oven. “Have a seat in the living room, handsome. I’m making spaghetti.”
I’d already opened a bottle of red wine and left it on the coffee table with two glasses.
Joe poured while I went back for a final stir of tomato sauce, then I brought out a plate of sliced apples, knowing he liked fruit more than cheese.
“This looks great. What’s the occasion?” Joe was smiling, relaxed and happy. He’d gone home and showered after his shift—his hair was still a little damp. I couldn’t help but mentally compare his wholesome good looks to Erik’s self-indulgent, middle-aged flabbiness, and know I’d dodged a bullet.
“No occasion.” I shrugged, sliding next to him on the couch. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, that’s all.” It was true, I did. “I ate your food and lived in your house for a week. I washed the sheets before I left, by the way.” My mom always said a guest should leave a place neat.
“That’s too bad,” Joe said, shaking his head ruefully. “I loved the way those sheets smelled.” He took my hand, giving me a slow grin that set my heart tripping.
I grinned back, squeezing his fingers. “They’ll smell that way again.”
Joe surprised me by kissing my hand. “I wouldn’t mind if they smelled that way all the time.”
Things got really quiet. All I could think about was the feel of his skin as he rubbed his cheek against my hand, the firm heat of his lips as he kissed it again. It felt like a defining moment?almost like when Erik proposed?yet I didn’t know what to say.
“Something really weird happened to me today,” I blurted. Joe lowered my hand. “Nothing bad,” I hastened to add, “but really weird. It started a few weeks ago, when I sold this sweet little Red Hat lady a bracelet.”
I told Joe all about the bracelet, Evan’s estate sale, and Violet’s unexpected visit. He said very little, sipping from his glass as he listened to the first half of the story, including some completely unnecessary details about vintage jewelry. I was working my way up to telling him about Erik, but his continued silence had me worried.
“I’m stuck with it, Joe.”
He looked at me, not saying anything.
“It’s official…I see dead people. They come to me and they want me to solve their problems. Sometimes I can and sometimes I can’t, and sometimes I wish I could crawl into a hole where they could never find me?but mostly I just wanna live my life.” Here was the big question. “Do you think you can be with a person like that?”
Joe put down his glass and leaned over so our faces were close. He reached out and very gently smoothed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I am with a person like that.” Then he kissed me, a kiss that told me all I needed to know.
After that it was easy to tell him about Erik and Cindy. He didn’t judge, or ask why a seventeen-year-old goth girl would ever have been attracted to a preppy high school jock to begin with, much less gotten engaged to one. He laughed when I described Cindy’s uptight size four ass, and by the time I finished the story, we were both laughing at the picture I’d painted of two miserably married yuppies, screaming insults at each other on the front steps of their Buckhead mansion.
“Your ex-fiancé, who cheated on you, actually hit on you right in front of his wife, the woman he cheated on you with.” Joe gave a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
“You should have seen the look on his face when I shoved him out of my car.” I giggled. “Calling him an idiot was just icing on the cake.”
“He is an idiot.” Joe poured us both more wine. “If the guy chose some blond bimbo cheerleader over you, he deserves whatever hell she puts him through.” A clink of wineglasses sealed that statement, while I relaxed, feeling much lighter for having told him.
“He’s the reason for the tattoo?” Joe glanced at my breast, where a broken heart still beat, stronger than ever.
“It was stupid.” I flushed, embarrassed by that bit of childhood drama. “There’s a tattoo artist down in Little Five Points who does really good work…I think I’ll see if he can remove it.”
“I don’t know.” Joe stretched out a finger, tracing it lightly over the tattoo, even though he couldn’t see it. My nipple sprang to life. “I kinda like it.” He bent over, leaning in close. “Maybe he can just—” He kissed the spot through my shirt. “—mend it.”
“Maybe he could,” I murmured, caressing his dark hair. Neither of us was talking about the tattoo artist.
Several wine-flavored kisses later, I pulled away. “Uh-uh-uh.” My shirt had mysteriously come unbuttoned and my hair was messed up. “No dessert before dinner.” I stood up, leaving Joe mock-groaning on the couch.
“You’re a cruel woman, Nicki Styx.”
“Yeah. Good thing I’m cute, huh?”
He laughed, then stood up, the bulge in his jeans evidence of my cruelty. “That reminds me, you left some girly stuff at my apartment. I left it in the car.”
“Girly stuff?” I gave him my archest look.
“Face lotion, or something like that. You left it in the bathroom…I thought you might want it.”
My moisturizer…how sweet. “I do want it. Thanks.” I didn’t like to go to bed unmoisturized.
“I’ll go get it.”
“Hurry back,” I said, getting down plates and grabbing silverware for two. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
I heard the front door open as Joe headed to his car.
“Nicki.” The way Joe said it didn’t sound right. “Nicki, come here.”
Putting down the plates, I went through the living room to find Joe standing by the door. He pointed down at the welcome mat.
“Look at this.”
My blood ran cold.
It was a knife, very sharp and very shiny. A wide blade, with a red cord crisscrossing the handle, ending in a tuft of feathers.
Just looking at it made me nauseous.
“This isn’t good,” I said blankly. The knife had voodoo written all over it. “It wasn’t there when you got here.”
Joe bent to pick it up.
“Don’t touch it!” I was absolutely certain that touching it was a bad idea.
Without stopping to think, I knelt, trying not to look at the knife as I picked up the welcome mat. I carried the mat, knife and all, over to the edge of the front porch and flung them into the yard.
“What are you doing, Nicki? I wanted to have a closer look at that!”
I shook my head, hugely relieve
d to have that thing off my porch. “I don’t want it in my house. I don’t want it near my house.”
“We have to call the police.”
“Call the police and tell them someone left a butcher knife on my welcome mat? It’s some kind of voodoo…am I supposed to explain to them how I know? Or should I just cut to the chase and tell them I’m being terrorized by an evil spirit?”
My skin was crawling. I took Joe by the hand and pulled him inside, only too happy to lock out the darkness. I’d deal with that knife in the daylight, with a big pair of tongs and a garbage bag.
“Voodoo?” Joe was frowning, watching me slide the dead bolt home. “I thought it was over.” So did I. “You’re shaking like a leaf, Nicki…c’mere.”
I slid into his arms, holding him tight as I pressed my cheek against his chest.
“Somebody’s trying to scare me.”
“Gee, ya think?” Joe had never snarked at me before, but I knew it was only frustration speaking. The way he rubbed my back confirmed that he was angry at the situation, not me. “You’re coming home with me, right now.”
Despite the icy tendrils of fear that snaked their way down my spine, I smiled a little against his chest. Typical male response—grab your woman by the hair and drag her to safety.
“I made dinner.”
“We’ll take it with us.”
“I wanna do some research about the symbolism of the knife.”
“You can do it at my place,” he said implacably.
“Joe,” I raised my head, “I know you’re worried, but I can’t spend the rest of my life at your place.”
Why not? said his eyes, but I avoided the question.
“This is my home, and I’m not going to be driven out of it. Besides, if somebody really wants to get to me, they’ll find me wherever I am. Should I stop going to work, too?”
Joe was frowning, not liking my arguments. “What if there’s some guy out there in the bushes right now, Nicki, waiting until I leave?”
I seriously doubted it. Voodoo was based on symbolism and secrets. Evil desires were gained through ritual and spells, not direct methods. Aside from whatever potions were used—like whatever Granny had used on me when I’d drawn the veve—the real power of voodoo lay in the mind.
As scary as that knife was, I’d bet it was more of a warning than a threat. Still, I wasn’t a complete idiot.
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll call the police and file a report. If we’re lucky, they’ll send somebody out to shine a flashlight in the bushes.”
Joe sighed, clearly unhappy. “You do that. We can talk about where you’re spending the night after you’ve made the call.” He took me by the hand and led me into the living room, settling me on the couch. “But first, I’m checking every inch of this house.” I’d never seen Joe look so grim. “You stay right there.”
“Okay.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “I mean it, Nicki. Stay there.”
“I will,” I said, despising my own wimpiness. My knees were a little shaky. I’d rather have stuck to his side like glue, but this was one time I didn’t mind being told what to do.
Joe reached over and picked up the phone, which I’d left lying on the coffee table, and handed it to me. “Nine-one-one. Very easy number.”
“Ha ha.” I took it, not looking forward to the call. It wasn’t an emergency, for one thing, and I didn’t think the police would be able to help.
They’d be tilting at shadows.
“What’s that godawful smell?” Joe raised his head, sniffing the air. “Is something burning?”
I started off the couch, but Joe stopped me cold. “Stay right there, I said.”
Giving him an exasperated look, I said, “My tomato sauce probably needs stirring.”
“I’ll check it.” Joe walked into the kitchen, tossing his keys on the counter. He went straight to the stove and turned off the heat.
I watched him, surprised to find I liked the way he’d taken charge—the macho man thing was both annoying and sexy at the same time.
“The spaghetti sauce is fine.” He’d lifted the lid, releasing a cloud of steam. He was frowning, puzzled, as he put the lid back on.
“Something stinks.” He moved to the refrigerator and opened it. “It really smells awful.”
The hair rose on the back of my neck.
Joe rummaged around in the fridge, then gave up, turning to the garbage can as the culprit. “Don’t you smell it?” I was frozen to the couch. “It smells like something rotten. It smells like…” He glanced up and met my eye.
“Like bad fruit?” I asked. “Like something dead?” My face must’ve shown what I was thinking.
Joe shook his head. “Nicki, it’s okay.”
“Nicki, it’s okay,” came Caprice’s mocking whisper, slithering into my ear as neatly as a lizard. I shrieked and jumped up from the couch.
“Did you hear her?”
“Did you hear her?”
Before Joe could answer, I gabbled, “She’s here. Caprice is here!” I was frantic—she wasn’t supposed to be here.
“She’s here. Caprice is here.” The whispers were louder now, swirling around me.
Joe expression was priceless.
“What’s that?” he asked sharply.
“What’s that?” Caprice mocked, but her voice was different now, full of spite. “You hear something, white boy?”
Joe and I stared at each other, in shock, as Caprice went on, addressing Joe directly. Her vicious whispers filled the air.
“You wanna hear more? The screams of the damned, maybe? They gonna be like music to your ears.”
“If you’re dead,” Joe said firmly into the air, “you can’t hurt anybody.”
“You think so? That old woman can’t stop me no more…her day is done!”
Joe flinched suddenly, as though someone hit him. He stumbled backward, throwing out a hand.
“Stay there, Nicki!” He shot me a warning glare, palm upraised, scanning the empty kitchen for his attacker.
“Stay there, Nicki. Stay there.” Caprice’s nasty falsetto sounded like a child who’d been denied one too many times on the playground. “Your girlfriend didn’t bring me my man like I asked her. Maybe the Baron will like hers.”
“Go away,” I shrieked, nearly at the breaking point. “Go away, Caprice! I never did anything to you! I thought you were my friend!” I was sobbing now. “I tried to help you, but I can’t! Leave us alone!”
“You ain’t never been my friend. You been trying to keep me down.” Caprice’s voice was an evil whisper, all sound and no substance.
Joe stumbled backward again, this time clutching his throat. I rushed into the kitchen. Joe was leaning against the counter wheezing, fighting for breath.
There was no one and nothing to fight.
Then I remembered.
“‘Take unto ye the armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand evil.’” I said Granny’s scripture out loud, and then I said it again, louder. “‘Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…’” I spouted every religious reference I could think of, as quickly as I could, while I squeezed Joe’s arm and looked into his face.
He was gasping for breath. He gave me a desperate look, then understood. There was no one to fight, except the images in our minds. We kept an eye lock as I kept talking. “‘Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…’” I ignored the stench that surrounded Joe like mildewed jelly. “‘Thou shalt honor thy father and mother. Thou shalt not steal.’”
Joe took a deep breath, expression easing, then another. I held him tight. “‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife,’” I babbled. His arms came around me, his breathing easier. I could feel his heart pounding against my ear.
“‘Mother Mary, full of grace…’” I wasn’t sure if Joe’s gruff contribution was a fragment of memory or a statement of disbelief about what just happened to him.
“‘Give us this day our daily bread.’”
“‘Do unto
others as you’d have them do unto you.’”
I sighed. “That’s what got me into this mess.”
Joe moved fast, grabbing my hand. He snatched his keys off the counter. “Let’s get out of here.”
I didn’t argue. Two seconds later we were gone with the wind, and on our way to Joe’s car. We didn’t talk about where we were going until we’d driven several blocks.
“What the hell was that?” Joe kept checking the rearview mirror. He looked more pissed than scared.
“You know what it was,” I said wearily, too drained to even say her name.
“How the hell do we get rid of it?”
“I have no idea.” An unwilling thought came to mind. “But I’ll bet I know who does.”
Joe glanced over, apparently able to read my mind.
“No. Uh-uh.” He was frowning, shaking his head decisively. “You’re not going near that old woman again.”
“Joe!” My nerves were shot, or I’d never have yelled at him. “Quit telling me what I can and can’t do! It’s not like I wanted any of this, you know!”
His frown got blacker. “I don’t know what you want, Nicki, and half the time I don’t think you know, either.” Before I could come back with a retort, he added, “I’m just trying to keep you safe.” He glared at me. “This is pretty serious stuff.”
Using his own earlier snark against him, I snipped, “Gee, ya think?”
Joe sighed, clearly unwilling to fight. “Nicki, I…” another sideways glance, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
My anger drained away as quickly as it came. It’d been quite a day. I reached out and laid a hand on Joe’s thigh in unspoken apology.
He covered my fingers with one hand and drove with the other, while the next mile or so went by in silence.
“I’m sorry I yelled.”
“You should be.” Joe’s rueful grin took the sting from his words.
“Granny Julep is the only one who knows what’s going on.”
His grin faded. “This is crazy,” he muttered.
How could I make him understand? “Listen…despite what she did at the barbecue place, I don’t think she meant to hurt me. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Only because she collapsed,” he shot back. “You don’t know what would’ve happened otherwise.”