by R. L. Wilson
She’s definitely pissed. Why Morgan posts everything on social media, I’ll never understand. Morgan is obsessed with her beauty and her curvy stature. She takes selfies all day. I see no need for a photo every day.
The wind blows through my hair as we hurry down the interstate with our destination in mind. Kato sits in the back, not saying anything. He never went home to get clothes. I’m sure he will buy some in New Orleans.
“What’s our plan?” Morgan says as she flips her newly highlighted blonde hair.
“First, we are going straight to Momma’s house. If she isn’t there, we will go searching for her.” I let the armrest down and rested my elbow. My eyes are heavy but the adrenaline has me wide awake, as if I drank some black coffee.
“We will talk with your uncle first,” Kato says. “Then I’ll poke around.”
This makes me like him even more. Kato has never met Momma, but for me he will go a thousand miles away.
“I’m happy you’re not dying and you still have your magical abilities.” She hesitates—she wants to say more. Her bottom lip quivers slightly.
“Yeah and?” I question.
She stutters. “I want you to stay true to yourself. Don’t let Prentiss turn you into a monster.”
I frown and scrunch my nose. “I’m not a monster. Have I been acting mean?” I’m on edge, irritated because my mother is missing. Who wouldn’t be? I shoot a glare her way and then lean forward and pop the glove department open. I’ll fix her.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting your Polaroids out.” She grabs my arm and squeezes tight.
“Put those back!” She yells.
“No,” I giggle, and sift through the pictures. Coming across a school photo, I bust out laughing. It’s her awkward phase in the third grade with two pigtails.
“Give me those,” she smirks.
“Hey, Kato, here is Morgan. She should put this on Facebook.”
I pass the picture back to Kato and he doesn’t make a peep. It’s obvious he doesn’t find it funny. I’m only trying to lighten the mood. Morgan is getting too serious about me letting Prentiss turn me into someone I’m not.
I twist my torso around to view his face. He hands me the picture back. “I want pictures of you.” He winks. I blush. I couldn’t help it. His new physique makes him irresistible to me.
Morgan snatches the pictures from me and laughs. She puts them under the sun visor. “Remind me to move these pictures where you can’t find them.”
For two minutes, with my best friend and Kato, I forgot Momma is missing, Prentiss is on the loose, and I have the worst job. I enjoy laughing with them. I’m sure it will be short-lived.
“Once we locate Momma, life will be normal. I won’t be in such a bitchy mood,” I utter.
“Be ready for whatever happens out here,” Kato says.
“What do you mean?” I shoot a stare his way.
“New Orleans is a nice town, but it’s tough. You understand? Be careful. Prepare yourself for anything.”
I hadn’t considered the dangers of the town. Fighting with Prentiss will be dangerous enough.
“All I want is Momma safe and home.”
“We know nothing about New Orleans. We will be cautious,” Morgan says. She wipes her forehead and bites her bottom lip.
“Don’t get hot-headed and go off by yourself once you get something in your mind. There’s no turning back,” Morgan barks.
I have to admit Morgan is right. If I get there and I can’t find Momma, I will be on the hunt. And Prentiss will be the prey.
The tires screech as my head shifts forward. Morgan swerves, avoiding a pothole. “Damn, Morgan,” I shout.
“Sorry. Did you get a glimpse of those potholes? They’re the size of the Titanic.” She laughs.
Chapter 5
Fear skitters down my back as I survey Momma’s house from the outside. I’m scared to exit the car. My hands tremble as I open the door. What would I see? Maybe she’s sleeping? I grab the key from my bra. Momma mailed me a key when she first got the house. Normally, I wouldn’t be nervous, but this is my momma.
Sighing sharply, I glance over my shoulder at Morgan and Kato. “Come on.”
“I’ll stay in the car until you tell me to come in,” Morgan says.
She must have a bad feeling. I admit, so do I. The light within the house makes the window glow orange. It’s daytime…Momma never leaves her light on during the day. She says it would run up her bill terribly.
Kato closes the app on his phone and slips it in his pocket before stepping out of the car. He warns me to be prepared for whatever we find on the other side of the door.
It’s small, but better than her apartment in Detroit. She did some landscaping, and the flowers billow about the yard. The boards beneath my shoes creak with every step up the porch. When I reach the top of the stairs, a black cat screeches and runs off. Sweat dampens my armpits, and my breathing is ragged.
Houses don’t get any more cliché. The house is on a dark, dead-end street. With tons of trees in the backyard like a forest.
I jump back, bumping into Kato. “The cat scared the shit out of me.” I almost jumped out of my body. The house is nice and spooky.
“Harmony.”
I twist around. “What?” I ask Kato.
“What do you mean ‘what?’”
“You said my name,” I reply
“No, I didn't,” he responds, his brows knitting together.
“Okay, not only is this house spooky, but it’s haunted too?”
The cat scared me, but Kato’s petrified. And I brought him for protection.
“I have a huge fear of cats,” he states.
“Why?”
“A cat scratched me when I was a kid. I’ve feared them ever since.”
I slip the key in the lock, hoping I don’t walk into a disaster or worse, a murder scene. I go farther into the house with Kato stepping on my heels.
There’s no pungency of rotting flesh, which is a good sign. The humidity here would bake a dead body in twelve hours flat. There is no sign of forced entry and the place is clean, with the aroma of Pine-Sol floating through the kitchen. This is Momma’s house; she always has a piney scent.
Kato ventures off to the bedroom while I inspect the refrigerator. I would offer them a snack to eat, but Morgan is too picky and Kato hardly ever eats. I pop the bottle of Pepsi and quench my thirst. I’m parched.
“What are you doing?” Kato says. He snuck up on me in the middle of taking a bite of an apple.
“What does it look like? Eating.”
“You are supposed to be searching for your momma, and I’m sure she isn’t in the refrigerator.” He grunts while scowling at me.
Can’t a girl eat without interruptions?
“Momma isn’t here, she would have come out swinging a broom.” I snicker. Hearing an unfamiliar male voice would have sent Momma into kill mode.
“She isn’t in the bedroom, but everything is in place,” Kato says. “We can go to my old stomping grounds. I’ll ask questions, get the news.”
I grab my Pepsi and apple then scurry out the door.
Kato sure brought me to a sketchy part of town. Morgan dropped us off at the bar. She went to the police station to see if her uncle has any updates.
I follow him into a bar.
I gasp, barely able to breathe from the smoke in the air. What kind of bar is this? It’s nothing like the bars back home. There is a live band playing music. In Detroit we had deejays. The music is intense and a lot better than records. A crowd dances in front of the stage where the band plays the blues. I chuckle at their dancing skills. I can’t dance any better.
A dark fellow with orange eyes walks past and shoots a stare our way. I inch closer to Kato. We stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone’s clothing is bright Caribbean colors. I have on gray, and Kato…I don’t have a clue what he’s wearing.
“Is this the right bar?”
“Sure, co
me on.” He walks toward the bar. “Isn’t it great?”
“Yeah, fabulous,” I say while scanning the room. I’m being sarcastic. It isn’t bad; not my type of bar though.
“Hey, hellish girl,” Kato says to the bartender.
She squints. “Kato?” She screams and scurries around the bar, stars dancing in her eyes. As she passes me the heat bounces off her body, causing me to lean back. Her hair is a bloody red and her nails are at least nine inches long.
She jumps in Kato’s arms. I turn my nose up in the air and clear my throat. What the fuck.
She finally hops off him.
“Jazz, this is Harmony. Harmony, Jazz,” Kato explains.
I shoot a death stare at her before shaking her hand. I immediately retract my hand. Her palm is hot as hell.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she snickers. “Sometimes I can’t turn off my heat.”
I roll my eyes. She burned me on purpose, the heifer.
She wraps her arm around Kato. “How have you been, sweetie?” She bats her long-ass eyelashes. She has a ton of makeup on. Maybe she is hiding scars. It reminds me of the makeup they put on the dead.
This chick needs to back up, before I hex her ass. I hop on the stool and tap my hand on the bar. I’m gonna need a drink to deal with this chick.
A male bartender struts my way with a bow tie and no shirt. Geesh, is this a bar or an exotic lounge?
“What can I get you?” he asks.
“Nothing, she’s good,” Kato says while holding his hand up. My already bad attitude turned into a rage.
“What did you do that for?” I bark as wrinkles appear across my forehead.
“We are here on a mission. You need to be sober,” he whispers in my ear.
I calm down. He’s right, we are here for business, not pleasure.
“Follow me.” He waves his hand. I hop off the bar stool and follow him and Jazz to a dark hall. A blue light shines at the end of the hall. It’s a tunnel, narrow and dull.
“Knock on the middle door,” Jazz says before hugging Kato. She is definitely affectionate.
Grimacing at the dimly lit tunnel, I turn my attention to Kato. “Danger lurks in the darkness. Might be ready to attack both of us.”
Kato assures me it’s safe, so I continue deeper down the tunnel. But I have to ask about Jazz. I have never seen friends this affectionate.
“Who is Jazz to you?”
He laughs, but all I observe is the brightness of his shirt and the whites of his eyes. I should have asked later, then I could read his facial expression.
“A friend from back in the day,” he explains.
“Sure, a friend,” I smirk.
“Yes, a friend. She owns this building; she’s paid protection.”
“She’s a woman, who is she protecting?”
“She’s also a hellhound,” he laughs. “I need to talk with one of my old running buddies. Jazz says he’s here.” He picks up the pace and avoids the conversation about Jazz.
We get to the blue light and Kato knocks on the door. He got out of talking about Jazz quick.
My stomach vibrates like thunder as the door opens.
“Kato?” a large-bellied man with short slick hair says.
“Bobbi,” Kato says.
“Come on in here.” He pulls Kato by the arm while laughing. I enter the door behind, but I’m ready to go. I already got a whiff of cigarette smoke. Judging by the overflowing ashtray, he’s a chain smoker.
Kato takes a seat on an old, worn sofa. I stand. I’m afraid of what might be crawling on the sofa. The sofa is antique; for sure it’s older than I am.
The apartment is tiny, only one large room. I can’t turn around without stepping on someone’s feet.
“How is life treating you? How is Randy?” Bobbi asks while he walks toward the kitchen area and grabs a beer out of the refrigerator.
“We’ll talk about him later. This is my girl, Harmony.”
“Hi,” I wave and put on a fake smile.
Girl, what does he mean girl? I smirk on the inside. I want to date him, but he is dark and hard to read at times. Dating him would be a mistake.
“Are you still dealing magic or you out the game?” Bobbi asks. He wipes the excess beer from his mouth and burps. He can’t have a wife or girlfriend. He is too much of a slob. I don’t want any beer, but where is his Southern hospitality? He didn’t offer me or Kato a beer.
“I’m trying to quit and change my life for her.” He glances over at me and winks his right eye. He assumes whenever he blinks or shows his dimples, I will melt in his hands. He’s partially right.
“It was nice to have met you, Bobbi,” I say.
“Likewise,” he says with bulging eyeballs.
Slapping a fly on my arm, I step closer to Kato. This place is too dusty, and quite filthy.
“Where are you going?” Kato questions.
I pull Kato to the side. “Morgan’s picking me up,” I whisper.
“I’ll text you later. I’m going to catch up with Bobbi,” he explains.
There is some dark stuff going on. I had no idea Kato was acquaintances with Randy before.
Chapter 6
Out of paranoia, I glance around and make sure no one has come near me. Before I have the chance to panic, the squeak and rattle from Morgan’s car comes barreling down the street. I’m ecstatic Morgan is here. I hop in the car as she bobs her head to blaring music.
“What kind of bar is this?” she asks with her nose in the air.
Observing the bar from the outside, it resembles a shady nightclub from Detroit, the Pussy Cat. It’s a strip club where you can get more than a lap dance.
“Let’s not start on the bar.” I scratch my head. “What did you hear from your uncle?” I click my seatbelt and silently say my prayers in my head. Morgan is not the best driver. The first accident she had, I was the passenger. We were seventeen then and her driving hasn’t gotten any better. I have to be safe in the car with her.
“He isn’t in the office but he called, wanting to meet up and talk about Jeanette’s case.” She pulls her sunglasses from her hair and puts them on. Morgan visualizes herself in Hollywood. It’s hot down here, but we are not movie stars. She has on a ton of makeup. She won’t have it on for long, the Louisiana heat will melt the Covergirl off.
“Why are you all dolled up?” I question.
“I’m going to find me a Southern man. A shifter preferably, but I’ll take a human.” She pushes her hair to the side of her face. Sweat twinkles down the side of her forehead.
“Speaking of Kato…what do you think?”
“I don’t,” she says with a dismissive tone. And a smudge of chocolate on the corner of her mouth.
“He’s cute but, he’s different.” I shrug.
“He’s definitely different from the supernaturals back home. But different isn’t bad. He dresses weird,” she snickers with a hand covering her mouth. I notice the brownie she is chewing on. She’s supposed to be on a diet.
“Other than his weirdness, he’s a nice guy,” she explains.
I peer out the car window at the hustle and bustle of the streets. Everything here moves fast but to its own beat. I imagine what it would be like to live here. I think it’s too overpopulated and hot. I’m sticky hot, and Morgan has the air conditioner blasting. It has to be 100 degrees, and gray skies are appearing.
We come to a halt at a park.
“What are we doing here?”
“We’re going to see my uncle.” She points to a thick-built man sitting on a picnic table under a large tree. I eyeball the giant leaves billowing above the table, providing shade. Great, now we don’t have to stand in the sun.
He has on a creased uniform covering broad shoulders and huge biceps. He smiles, showing pearly white teeth. He doesn’t appear to be Morgan’s aunt’s age. Her aunt is closer to fifty. His face is free from wrinkles, his hair a jet black with no silver. I guess he’s in his thirties, not forties.
“Hey, Uncle St
one,” Morgan says. As we walk toward the wooden table, the trees are stiff with no wind in sight. The collar of my shirt stops sweat from racing down the nape of my neck. An ice-cold Pepsi and air conditioner are calling me.
“Hey niece, how are you?” he says.
“I’m good.”
“Who’s your friend?” He stands up and my eyes trail his body from his boots to the top of his head. He is tall. I’m sure he played basketball in high school. He has the deepest, smooth Southern drawl I’ve witnessed.
“This is Harmony, her mom’s is the house you went to check on.”
“Oh yeah. Hi, Harmony, how are you?” He offers me his palm. I extend my hand to shake his. It looks small, like a raisin in his hand.
“I’ve opened an investigation, but there is no sign of forced entry or foul play.” He coughs and takes a seat on the table. “The back door was unlocked. But it’s not uncommon in this part of town. It’s quiet and some people leave the door open. Has she talked about leaving or being unhappy?” he asks.
I already know what he presumes, but Momma never leaves without telling me. She said Prentiss is back, and I believe her.
“She did not leave.” I look him square in his beady dark eyes. “She was taken.”
He pulls a notepad from his pocket and jots down a few details. He asks for Momma’s description; I know he’s doing his job but Momma’s not a case or a number.
Morgan is staring at the group of boys walking pass. Did Morgan come to help me or herself? She’s always been crazy about boys. But now is not the time.
“Who do you assume took her?” he asks, kind of cocky. Like I don’t understand.
I want to scream “Prentiss Darby”. But telling him might get him killed—he’s human. Humans have huge egos and always have a point to prove. Prentiss is not the type to prove a point with. Uncle Stone would end up missing or dead.
“I have an idea, but I don’t want to accuse anyone.”
“This is an open investigation, don’t go snooping.” He shakes his head.
Yeah, sure I won’t go snooping. My Momma is missing. No doubt I’m going to find out what happened. First, I have to escape this humidity. It’s sucking the life out of me.