I understood why Tatum had stopped talking to me. I was her Hell, and when Lupe opened my door, she allowed a monster to come through and pull my girl away from me. Between Azelie, Marienne, Angie and her demon brigade, and Lupe, my life was filled with too many assholes and not enough heroes. It was time to change that. I couldn’t sit around and wait to be rescued. I couldn’t watch while someone I loved spent an eternity in a Hell worse than stuck to my side. The time for white knights and tight tights was over. Fuck waiting, I’d be my own hero. Even if it killed me.
“So be it,” I sneered and walked away.
I heard a shaking sigh push from his lungs and he shuffled off to whatever task was next. Lupe met me in the sitting room and shoved the bulging bag into my hands. “You keep that fight in you, girl. You’re going to need it.” She winked at me and thudded past into the dining room.
One at a time, she barked out directions. Sending Cyrus to his hands and knees with a large stick of white chalk, she made it clear it was a job only he could do then proceeded to eye his ass while he drew her symbol. He sketched out the design she’d pointed out in a tattered, leather-bound book. I was to empty the dirt from my pocket so she could complete the protection she’d promised me before my big trip down south, or wherever scary dead shit lived.
I laid on my favorite fainting couch and closed my eyes. Listening to Lupe chant and pray, half in Spanish and half in English, I wondered if Mike would come. I worried he’d stop me. Force me to give up my delusions and send me on a lithium vacation. My breathing slowed and I realized I was getting sleepy. Terrified I’d fall asleep and dream of that thing again, I forced myself to listen to Lupe. I pulled out every Spanish word I recognized and tried to piece together what she was saying.
Cyrus’s cologne suddenly filled the air around my face. His caring hands lifted my head and he slid into the seat under it. Laying my head in his lap, he silently touched my filthy, wild hair. Of all the times we’d attempted the dirty, allowing him to comfort me seemed the most natural. With Tatum gone, I missed that sense of platonic love. While Cyrus was far from the likes of Tatum Price, I hoped I made it out alive and back to those still living. I had a feeling he and I could easily become friends.
It took about an hour before Lupe stopped rambling on in her muddled Spanglish chant. Leaving the comfort of Cyrus’s lap, I joined her on the outskirts of the chalk lines. Her eyes looked tired when she handed me a small leather pouch.
“Tuck that near your heart,” she told me.
I shoved it through the neck hole of my smelly t-shirt and into my bra. It was the closest, safest place I could think of to tuck it. “That’s it?”
“That is the essence of one who loved you with all their soul. And he did,” she assured me. “Don’t forget him, and he will be your strength when you need it most.” She brushed debris from her lap. “I’ll need a minute to rest before we begin your transition.”
“Transition?”
“It’s not a door; you can’t just walk through. Where you’re going takes time to ease open and allow you to pass through. What you ask is not often accomplished and will require more than I think you’re aware. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“You can bring me back?” My stomach tightened at the idea of floating of into nothingness.
“I will toss you out like a line in the water and reel you in when I feel you’ve found what you’re looking for. But remember, your line is thin and has a limit. You are a living soul in the presence of the dead. Your fight will be long and hard, and I cannot help you. You will be alone. But, you will have the chance to not only pull your friend back into this plane, a soul to roam freely and eternally, but also banish the demon that has been unleashed on you.”
“She’ll be stuck here?” Cyrus was right; I didn’t know enough about their world to make decisions.
“Aye. That is all we can do. Perhaps once she is free, her spirit can find its home or a medium can help to guide her there. But where I think she is now, she will never find contentment. And it looks to me that this demon of yours has its teeth sunk deep in your soul. This may be your only chance.”
“We could find the source,” Cyrus butted in. “Those people in Fresno, they did this. We could stop them and–"
“No. The beast has been loosed upon her. His will is his own and it will not be stopped. Only Dylan can stop it. It is her soul it wants and her power it feeds on.” She was only half-right. That thing fed on my sins.
“I’m in,” I said and shut them both up. “Promise me you won’t give up on me,” I said to Cyrus.
“Never.” He shook his head.
He had no reason to pledge his allegiance to me; our relationship hadn’t had much time to flourish, and in fact had been rocky more times than not. Whatever he saw in me, I couldn’t even see in myself. I had underestimated him, and in the moment I was glad I had.
It felt hokey and stupid, but it happened and I didn’t bother stopping it. There was something about losing almost everything, which made the world bearable. Nearing death brought clarity to a life of lies and misconnections. There was so much more to living than primetime television and mocha lattes. It was the people and moments that flittered in and out that made a life worth living. Good, bad, or otherwise, life was a series of fucks. The matter of the thing was which end you were on. It seemed I was on the receiving end of fucked. It was time that changed.
“Let’s do this.” I let out a single fist pump.
“Yes. We have a few hours until the Saturn day and I am starving. Let’s eat and have a drink, eh?”
Lupe seemed more and more my type of lady every time she didn’t lie to me for her own personal gain. At her request, Cyrus hauled out everything in the cabinets and refrigerator and ended up with five peanut butter sandwiches, a bag of Oreos, and one bottle of tequila. It was obvious no one ate anything substantial in that place, ever.
We passed the bottle around a few times until the butterflies in my butt chilled the fuck out and took a break. I pounded back one sandwich and ten, maybe twelve, cookies. I wished my last meal was something a little more appealing, but quelled that with another swig of booze.
The time passed and we chatted about literally anything but the situation that awaited us. Before long, a large clock off in another room chimed midnight and startled me. My time was up. Saturn day, or Saturday as normal folks would call it, was the best day to contact Azrael the archangel, and lucky us, I barged into Lupe’s shop flashing a gun on a Friday afternoon.
I had hoped Mike would come. There was so much I wanted him to know. From what Lupe had made clear, there was a chance I wouldn’t make it back from my trip to Hades. I prepared myself for that as best I could, but if I didn’t, I wanted him to know I was wrong.
“I gotta pee,” I exclaimed and shoved away from the table.
I needed a moment alone before whatever was about to happen happened. Lupe hadn’t really explained much about the process. She told me enough to know it wasn’t my body that was going anywhere, but my soul--my marred, sinful soul. If anyone belonged in Hell, it was me, I supposed.
The bathroom matched the overall theme of the first floor of the house. The presence of toilet paper made it clear their particular breed of animal did, in fact, take regular dumps, or irregular considering all that iron.
My gut burning a bit from the combination of booze and nerves, I worried my masticated cookies wouldn’t stay put in their new home. Any other bad choice I’d made in my life had been impulsive. With hours to stew about my impending trip to the underworld, I had plenty of time to consider my idiocy. I knew what I was doing could either fizzle away like a cheap year-old sparkler, or leave me stranded in a world of dead things. I knew the dangers. I had plenty of time to change my mind, yet I didn’t. If there was anything more powerful than my impulsive nature, it was my pride. I had made my bed, and I was prepared to fuck myself in it for eternity. Washing my face, I considered pooping before something came along and scared it o
ut of me.
“Bring it on, Satan,” I said to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I guess it’s time to test that bitch from Hell theory,” I mumbled and turned out the light.
The lights were out when I walked into the dining area. Candles flickered on a small table off to the side and a chair had been placed in the center of the chalk design Cyrus had drawn.
“Take off your shoes and take a seat,” Lupe instructed and pointed to the chair.
Slipping out of my sneakers, I pulled my weapon from its makeshift holster and laid it on one of the discarded chairs. As she instructed, I sat in the center of a white circle with squiggly shit coming out of it. On the small table to my right stood several colored candles shaped like the Virgin Mary had mated with the Grim Reaper. Lupe had called them Santisma Muerte when she had me pack them up. She said it was Holy Death and my guide to the underworld.
Lupe rubbed my arms with rose oil, which smelled like my granny’s house. Better than Hell, I figured. Her quick fingers fiddled with the rubber band that held back my frizz until it puffed free. Cyrus handed her a red ribbon with a charm tied to the end of it. The charm was in the shape of a fancy oval and had a picture of the Santisma Muerte on it.
Lupe braided my wild hair with the ribbon and tied the trinket deep in the thick of it. “Santa Muerte,” she said. “Cover this in your holy protection. I pray.” She kissed it before it disappeared into the knot.
My heart pounded in my chest, harder each minute that passed. I couldn’t believe where I sat, where I’d come from. A skeptic, a bitch out for a buck, I never assumed the world I was hunting held any ounce of truth. Yet there I sat, terrified I’d never make it back to my earthly body. Not a week before, I questioned my own sanity before believing in a curse. Voodoo bitches and headless things were nothing compared to the idea of eternity in my own Hell.
The front door flew open and Mike stomped into the foyer. A silent yelp pulled the air from my lungs. Seeing him in the flesh made my sacrifice real. I pushed Lupe’s busy hands away and ran to him. My bare feet slapped the wood floor as I ran. It was lame and cliché and something I never in a million years thought I’d do, but I did it. Slamming into his large frame, I nearly knocked him to the floor. His back hit the door and knocked it shut as I kissed him, hard. His hands cupped around my waist and lifted my feet from the floor. My heart fluttered and tears fell soft from my lashes. They’d been working their way up for hours anyhow.
Between small, intimate kisses, I said, “I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, and I will love you until my soul is wiped from the universe. I’m an asshole. I’m an idiot and I fucked up. I want you to know that. I want you to know always that I am yours. I always have been.”
His brows creased. “What are you doing?” He knew. He wasn’t stupid. He knew I was doing something reckless and I’d likely die in the process. His eyes glistened and threatened to open up and dump tears out.
“Something I have to do, and I need you to let me. I need you to tell me you’ll love me. I need you to forgive me before I go.” My eyes pleaded with him.
He set me back to the floor. “I can’t do that.” He looked over my shoulder at the magic goings-on. “I can’t let you do this again. I can’t lose you forever.”
“I’m already lost. Please, let me find myself. Whatever happens, I need to know I did everything I could to make right what I’ve done wrong.”
“I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. All I’ve ever wanted was you with me. What is this?” He eyed Lupe and Cyrus.
“I don’t have time to discuss it. A demon thing has been attached to my soul. This demon torments Tatum in Hell. She’s there because I put her there when I killed her.” He was quiet. “I did this, and I have to fix it. Lupe is strong. I trust her magic and her tie to the balance of the Earth. I’m strong. I trust myself to kill what needs killing. I need you to trust me, too.”
His eyes slid over me to the witch in the other room and back again. He shook his head. “You’re doing this with or without me?” I nodded. “There’s nothing I can do to stop you?” I shook my head. “How did I get to this point? I should be calling in the white coats and restraints. Instead, I’m terrified what is going to happen to you when that woman starts her mojo.”
“Congratulations, you’ve gone Mulder.” I forced a tight smile.
His brows lifted in the center, blue eyes searching the space for any clue as to how serious the situation was. He kissed my forehead while he looked over the top of it. “What am I going to tell your mother?” he asked absentmindedly.
Fuck me. I hadn’t thought about my mom. I’d tried so hard to pull myself away from her to protect her, I’d let myself forget her completely. “Tell her I love her.” I kissed him one last time and left him standing near the door. If I didn’t, I never would.
Cyrus’s eyes went wide when Mike followed me into the room. He obviously hadn’t expected him to let me back in. Perhaps he assumed Mike would be his last line of defense against me and my stupidity. Those two really needed to figure their shit out because we had some changes to make when I got back. If.
“You’re okay with this?” Cyrus whispered to Mike.
“Do I have a choice? The only thing I could do would make me a hypocrite and a traitor.”
“Reserved for the worst ring of Hell,” I added and joined Lupe back at my spot.
“Are we ready now?” She held her hands on her hips.
I sat and back to work she went. Rubbing ash on my forehead, she mumbled something in Spanish. Mike and Cyrus stood side by side, Mike a good six inches taller. Both had their arms across their chests, and they whispered back and forth while watching me.
“Hold this.” She placed a jagged black stone in my hand. “You,” she pointed to Mike, “you would protect her to the ends of the Earth?”
Mike looked around as if she were talking to some other guy. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. I would do anything for her.”
“Good, come here.” She pointed to the edge of the circle. “Your blood will seal our circle. Without you, her journey was uncertain. She’s lucky.” Lupe pulled a long pin from the center of her big, round bun and ran it down Mike’s forearm. He scrunched his brows together when she milked blood from the wound. “I call to Azrael, with the force of blood, by the will of love, bind these souls on this Earth.” Drops of his blood fell to the floor. “Keep her close to you,” she said and shoved a strand of my hair I hadn’t known she’d taken in his hand.
“What now?” Mike asked.
“Now you shut up and wait over there. Do not enter the circle. Do not talk to me. Do not talk to Dylan. Do not allow any thoughts in your mind. If you cannot do this, leave this house.” The two nodded and stepped away, leaning against the back of the couch. “Dylan.” She looked into my eyes. “Do you have faith in yourself, in your strength as a woman, in your power as a human soul?”
My eyes flicked to Mike, Cyrus, then back to Lupe. The pouch in my bra dug into my skin when my heavy chest heaved against it. I hope so. “Yes.”
“Think of your friend. Think of nothing else. Do not allow any feeling other than the love for your friend and bond to your mate to enter your heart. You control your fate.”
She walked around me, her wooden leg thudding. “Holy Mother, bless us. Divine power, fill us.” She splashed liquid around me and set a glass of water on the table with all the candles. “Accept our offering.” Lupe held the back of the chair as she spoke.
Slowly, she lowered the back of the chair, lifting the front two legs from the floor, leaving my bare feet to dangle freely. I clung to the black gemstone tight enough to break the skin in my palm. “Azrael, archangel to God, watcher of souls, protect this child. Guide her hand as she undoes sin, as she rights wrongs of those she loves.” She lowered the back of the chair further. “Mighty Santa Muerte, allow this child passage. Protect her in battle.” I closed my eyes and hugged myself when she lowered the chair to lay me nearly on my b
ack. “I, Guadalupe Maria Amaia Tapia, call to the keepers of the underworld. Open your doors and let this child of God pass.” A searing sickness ripped at my core and threatened to pull me inside-out. I gritted my teeth and bore the pain without shedding a tear. “I command it, make it be!” she screamed and let me go.
Thanks for the call, hookah-smoking caterpillar.
Chapter 16
My breath left my body. Expecting to slam back-first into the hardwood floor, I braced myself for impact. Instead, I plummeted. Deeper and darker than anything my head could have imagined. A blackness so thick, I thought I could reach out and touch it.
Though I tumbled deeper in to the abyss, I lacked the sensation of falling. No tingling tummy or feeling of motion. Simply an overall gut knowledge of downward movement. I thought maybe I’d never stop falling. Maybe that was my Hell. A constant state of not knowing what was next. A Hell it would be for my need-to-know brain.
Blackness, where not even my own hand could be seen, caused my brain to make stuff up. I’d read an article once about how the brain plugs stuff in when it lacks proper input.
Curious how the mind works. What if this isn’t real at all? What if I’m not falling but flying?
I felt like Alice when she tumbled through the looking glass, only I didn’t have a white rabbit to follow. I didn’t have anything but my own thoughts which were beginning to wander. I forced myself to focus on Tatum and the objective. Any other thoughts could screw the pooch, according to Lupe.
Tatum’s face popped in to my mind, followed by her blonde hair and blue eyes. I thought hard about her laugh and some random conversation she and I had, trying to recall the sound of her voice.
“Marco?” Tatum called out to me in the darkness.
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