“Only the ones who are worth the chase.”
I pressed my lips together my cheeks burning so hot, I thought I’d catch a fever. It was irritating how Milo always had a quick comeback for everything I said but even more annoying was the way my body reacted to his words.
“Why do you do that?” I spat.
“I’m not sure what you mean?” he said sounding innocent. Milo knew what he was doing, he knew he was getting a rise out of me, and he loved it.
“Everything you say…you’re telling me things every girl wants to hear. I know they’re not true.”
“I’d never lie to you,” Milo said sounding like he meant it.
“Can I ask you something…personal?”
“How personal?” I could hear the smile return to his voice again.
“Not that personal.”
“It all…depends,” he said challengingly. “What do I get in return for answering?”
“The peace of mind you’ve silenced the rumors?”
“No. That’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?” I asked, caution laced in every word.
“You know what I want.” There was heat in his voice as he spoke which only ignited the fire rising inside me I tried to extinguish earlier. Milo was playing a game of cat and mouse with me, but what he didn’t know; the mouse was far more intelligent than the cat.
“What if what you want is not an option?”
“Then let’s discuss terms.” The conversation was heating way too fast, I had to change the subject.
“So,” I began clearing my throat. “Uh, what were you doing before I called?”
“Thinking about you.”
“Oh?” My cheeks turned beet red. I should’ve changed the subject again, but I couldn’t help but play his stupid game. “And what exactly did you have in mind?”
“You. Me. Together. Shall I say more?”
Alone. Together. The thought of being alone with Milo was equally frightening and intriguing. But I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to contain my hormones around him.
“You owe me a bet,” he continued. “I’m ready to collect.”
I laughed, my voice swimming in nerves. Thankfully, Milo couldn’t hear me.
“Don’t be surprised if I show up unexpectedly on your balcony one day,” he said.
I covered my face repressing a smile. “Should I remind you, stalking is illegal?”
“Stalking you is worth breaking the law.”
Smooth operator.
“How about I pick you up Friday? Say around seven?”
When I didn’t immediately answer, Milo added, “you don’t trust me?”
“It’s not that. I just”—a fidgeted with my fingernails trying to let it out. “I don’t trust myself when I’m around you,” I whispered to the air without pushing the talk button.
The plan, focus on the plan. I must find Priscilla. I cleared my throat again. “Friday is no good for me. I’m volunteering at the Dixon Fall Festival as a favor to a friend.”
“Saturday then,” he countered.
I paused for a second before answering. “Where would we go?”
“Someplace where I can have you all to myself,” he replied with a provocative voice.
The butterflies returned. And the nerves. I wished there was an easier way I could search for my sister, one that didn’t include Milo. I was heading down a dangerous road, and if I didn’t watch my step, I was afraid I would fall right into Milo’s trap.
“What would we do?” I asked, playing coy card.
“Things…”
I suppressed a smile.
“With one condition. Promise to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Oof, you’re killing me,” he blew out. “That’s going to be impossible.”
“No deal then.”
“Fine. I promise I will keep my hands to myself. However, I don’t think you will,” Milo warned.
I laughed softly. Too easy. “Good night.”
“Dream about me,” he whispered.
I laughed again. “Highly doubtful.”
And just like that, I was lured into Milo’s game. But I wasn’t going to let him catch me. I went back to bed thrilled and basking in my success. I’d secured an invitation back into Milo’s world. Now, more than ever, I was determined to find my sister. As I placed my head on the pillow, I rubbed the heart-shaped pendant hanging around my neck. Right before I fell asleep, I finally took off the necklace Eddie gave me.
CHAPTER
17
I’d been parked in front of my house for several minutes. My head rested on the steering wheel, sweat building up on my forehead. I was dreading a confrontation. I wasn’t ready to face my mother just yet. I wanted to enjoy my last fleeting moments of freedom before she grounded me for not coming home last night or this morning. Instead, I’d gone straight to school with a massive knot tied to my stomach that refused to go away.
I stared at my mother’s red Expedition sitting in the driveway, her version of the ‘mom’ van—she always said she’d die before getting an actual van. Paul’s truck wasn’t there, maybe it was in the garage, or perhaps he was gone never to come back? I hoped for the latter.
Gathering the courage to face my mother, I stepped out of my car and made the long-dreaded walk to the front door dragging each foot slowly. This was it, goodbye world, goodbye freedom. When I walked through the door, my mother was running around the house dressed in her scrubs for work with a tote bag in hand. Relief washed over her face when she saw me.
“Good your home.” She didn’t yell at me or curse. “They just called me from the hospital, they’re short staffed tonight, so I have to go in early. Make sure Isaac eats.”
“Okay,” was all I managed to say as I watched her snatch her keys and grab her sweater from the coat rack then rush out the front door. What? No lecture? No screaming matches? Doors slamming?
Behind me, I heard Isaac’s little voice. “She’s not mad at you.” I turned around to face him. He was dressed in jeans, his favorite shark t-shirt, blue sweater and held his backpack ready to go. They were probably headed to Isaac’s grandmother’s house across town and out in the boondocks who sometimes watched Isaac while I was working.
“What happened after I left?”
“They got in a fight,” he said sounding sad. “Dad didn’t come home last night.”
“I’m sure he’ll be home later,” I let out a sigh. “I’m probably going to get it, uh?” I asked slumping against the wall.
I knew my mother too well. She was the type who bottled all her anger inside carrying the weight for days until she was provoked. Flashbacks from Priscilla’s encounter with my mother suddenly flooded my mind. She came home way past curfew one night and found our mother patiently waiting for her in the living room. I was ten at the time, but I still vividly remember their argument. I’d tip-toed to the kitchen where I had a good view of the action. Priscilla told my mother she was in love and that there was nothing my mother could do to stop her from seeing her angel boyfriend. Then Priscilla dropped a bomb. She was pregnant. And she was keeping it. I’d never seen so much rage in my mother’s eyes. She was so angry, she smacked Priscilla across the face. The next day, Priscilla was gone.
Isaac shrugged. A temporary relief eased the knot inside my stomach, but I wasn’t off the hook just yet.
“Do you know if mother has a camera?”
Isaac shrugged again. “I don’t know.”
I had a date with Milo Saturday, and I hoped he’d take me back to Stone Mountain so I could take pictures of the bathroom and the clearing where Savannah was getting initiated into their cult. I needed a camera. Where could I find one? My mother’s room.
I didn’t want to go in there. Her bedroom was off-limits to Isaac and me. And to be honest, I was perfectly fine with that rule. The door creaked as I slowly opened it, the smell of rosemary swirled in the air. A straw broom hung by the door along the Victorian casing. The room was dark, the wind
ows covered in heavy burgundy drapery, the walls were bare other than the ugly outdated pastel floral wallpaper. Turning the light on, I spotted her dresser by the fireplace and searched through her drawers for a camera but only found clothing, and random mail.
“You’re gonna get in trouble,” Isaac said peeking his head inside. Even Isaac knew the rules perfectly well, he wouldn’t dare be caught dead inside my mother’s room without permission.
“Who’s gonna tell her?” I glared at him. “Keep an eye out. Whistle if someone comes.”
“No one is here. Mom went to work.”
“Just keep an eye out!”
“Fine,” he said hanging out by the door.
I searched through the closet, under the bed but turned out empty handed. There had to be a camera somewhere. My mother never threw anything away. She was a hoarder on steroids.
There was one room I didn’t search, her bathroom.
An orange glow coming from the window inside the bathroom spilled underneath the door, and I could have sworn I thought I saw a shadow behind the door. I reached for the doorknob, hesitant, unsure if I should search inside. I was afraid to go in there because she was there. The thing my mother worshipped. My belly twisted; my breathing became shallow.
Nothing was going to happen. She wasn’t real. I told myself.
As soon as I opened the door, I was hit with the pungent coppery smell of blood. Standing right in front of me, sitting on top of a wooden plank over the bathroom sink surrounded by different types of fresh flowers and white candles was the hooded skeletal figure clutching a scythe that resembled the grim reaper. La Santisima Muerte. The Saint of Death. The woman who starred in all my nightmares as a kid. The people who worshipped her believed she could bring healing, protection, and prosperity. I didn’t. Ever since my mother brought the statue back from Mexico, we’ve had nothing but bad luck.
She was dressed in gold with different colored jewels around the trim of the hood. In the middle of the altar, a small cup was filled to the top with a thick red liquid I was very confident was the blood of a dead animal. To its right, a cup of water, to its left, a plate of bread.
Three mason jars, similar to the one I’d found inside the refrigerator, were arranged in a circle over a plate of honey. I picked one up examining the contents and squinted my eyes inside the jar to look at the picture in the middle. My hands turned to ice. It was me. It was my picture. I let go of the jar and watched it shatter all over the floor. White smoke sizzled from the water.
The sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the hallway. I looked over my shoulder, but Isaac wasn’t at the door anymore. Panic rose inside my throat as I quickly grabbed a towel from the rack then cleaned up the mess. I felt a sharp sting on my finger then blood oozed out. Tightening my hand into a fist, I closed the bathroom door behind me and made a quick dash for my bedroom and shut the door.
What was the liquid in the jar? But more importantly why was my picture inside?
☩
The Dixon Fall Festival was held annually in downtown to raise money for the local schools. It was the only event happening, so the whole town was in attendance. Calliope music echoed throughout a lively and crowded Dixon. The local country band Dix—with their slogan, ‘We’re the Dix in Dixon!’ on the front of the bass drum—performed under the brightly lit Ferris wheel as small children ran around licking pastel colored cotton candy.
The sun had just set leaving behind a sky bathed in vibrant hues of rose, purple and blue until darkness fell upon us. A cold chill swept over my booth; I wrapped my beige cable linen cardigan around my body hoping to keep out some of the cold. Tonight, I was in charge of the Kiss Booth; people had to guess the number of chocolate kisses inside the jar. The prize was a whopping forty-dollar gift card from Amazon.
Jane was in charge of the ring toss booth next to mine, which was getting a lot more action, by far the most popular booth. I glanced over to her and smiled.
“Great turnout!” she smiled back giving me the thumbs up.
“What’s up, hood rat,” Julian said plopping his elbows over the table. “Here’s the camera you asked for. I haven’t used it in a while, but it works.”
“Thank you,” I said taking the small camera and stuffed it in my front pocket.
“Did your momma ground you for the other night?”
“Surprisingly, no.” My mother hasn’t said anything to me or mentioned the jar. I was beginning to get worried.
“What. That’s weird. Remember the day I dropped you off after school, and she was waiting for you in the driveway with a chancla?”
“I remember. She dragged me into the house when she saw Eddie in the car,” I said slapping Julian’s hand away as he tried to take a chocolate kiss. “Customers only!”
“Chill, Jane. I’ll participate. How many kisses are in this thing, anyway?” Julian asked as he wrote down his guess on a piece of paper and handed me a dollar bill.
“You’ll have to find out at the end of the night,” I said looking around to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “You know my mother practices Santeria, right?”
“Yeah?” he asked leaning in with a look of excitement in his eyes anticipating a good piece of juicy gossip.
“Well, I found a jar with my picture inside.”
“Shut up!” His bright green contacts lit with surprise. “Like the one she had for Paul?”
I nodded. “I accidentally broke it and—smoke came out of the water. Isn’t that weird?”
“Yeah, that is weird. There was probably acid inside the jar.”
“Acid would’ve burned the paper.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure what it was or why she had my picture inside the jar.”
“You can always ask her,” he suggested.
“She’ll definitely kill me for sneaking into her room.”
“Did I hear someone say, ‘sneaking into a room’?” Eddie popped in the booth, surprisingly without his crew of jocks.
“Nope. Want to guess how many kisses are in the jar?”
Eddie looked at the sign disappointed. “That’s what this is. I thought it was a kissing booth.”
“Yeah, right,” I sneered. “You actually think the school would allow us to have a kissing booth? Imagine the angry mob of parents. Besides, kissing a complete stranger is disgusting.”
“That’s a shame,” he said with a flirtatious smile. He grabbed a piece of paper and entered his guess. “Can I talk to you?” Eddie’s eyes drifted to Julian waiting for him to get the hint and leave.
Julian perked up when he caught the message then said, “I’m gonna go stuff my face with nachos then throw them up on the Ferris wheel.”
“See you later,” I waved to Julian. “What’s up?” I asked Eddie.
Eddie took a manila envelope from his letterman jacket then handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, puzzled.
“It’s the money to fix your car,” he combed a hand through his hair almost embarrassed, “I made Mason and the guys pay up for what they did.”
“So, I was right,” I said taking the envelope. “I bet they were the ones who spray painted ‘Quill Lover’ on my garage door.”
Eddie gave me a startled look. “Someone spray painted your garage?”
“Yep. For the whole neighborhood to see.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I studied Eddie’s torn expression. I could tell something was weighing heavily on his mind.
“So,” Eddie began as he drummed his fingers on the booth.
“Are you still seeing him?”
Not this again. “Eddie, I thought we had this conversation already?”
“It’s not that, I just want you to be careful that’s all.”
“Well, thanks for the concern but I think I can take care of myself.”
“They’re not who they say they are,” he said cryptically.
“And how would you know?”
“I just—know.”
; And that’s when I saw the Templar cross branded on the inside of his wrist. The same one I’d seen many times all over Atlanta. I took his hand and pushed up his sleeve.
“What is this?” I demanded.
He snatched his hand back covering the mark.
“Are you—part of the Knights Army?”
The muscles on his face tightened. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about the angels.” His voice was serious.
“Like what?”
Eddie held back his words and shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”
I shook my head. I was tired of everyone around me hiding secrets. The fact that he led me this far made me angry. If Eddie wasn’t going to tell me anything, then I’d have to find out myself.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. But what Eddie said next shook me to my core.
“I just hope you haven’t gone too far; the way Savannah did.”
Eddie left without saying another word. He knew Savannah was involved with the angels. He probably knew she was part of their cult. What else was Eddie hiding?
And why wouldn’t he tell me anything?
I took a break from my duties to find Julian. On my way to the Ferris wheel, I passed the games section where one of the carnival attendants kept pestering me to play.
“I can’t,” I told him. “I have to meet a friend.”
“I’ll pay for your first game,” he offered.
“I don’t have any money.”
“It’s on me.”
Fine, I thought. Maybe shooting something will ease the tension in my body. Grabbing the shotgun, I positioned myself head-on before making my first move. But before I could go any further, strong foreign arms coiled behind me taking hold of the gun.
“You’re doing it wrong,” a familiar voice whispered. A tingling sensation raced down my neck, I knew without looking who was standing behind me. There was only one person who could make my heart race without touching. When I looked over shoulder, Milo’s face was right next to my ear sending pulsating waves of heat over my body. I had to catch my breath to prevent myself from fainting. I focused back on the game, all smiles.
“The key to a good beginning is using proper form. Turn your hips so that your back is against me,” Milo instructed. I did as he asked. Milo made sure to keep a healthy distance so that our bodies wouldn’t touch. “Now, position the shotgun closer to your chest. And take aim.”
THE TRAGIC + DIVINE, Book 1 Page 16