by Amanda Rose
“What exactly is a voodoo queen and how do you know I'm it?” I ask, trying to take all this information in.
“You're kinda like … the magic-wielding general for …” Zandor trails off, trying to find the words. I pull my gaze from him and look at Sebastian instead. The faintest ghost of a bemused smile lingers on the big man’s lips.
“Balance. The Laveau maintains balance,” Bastian answers simply.
“Yeah, like Bas said: balance,” Zandor repeats, snapping his fingers in an ah-hah moment type gesture.
“Were the monsters some kind of test or something? Or were they real?” I ask, trying my best to go with the flow and make the most sense out of this. Bastian's sad smile gives me the answer before Zan can say it out loud.
“They're real.” His whole demeanor shifts. “Someone forced them through Rosette's weakening protection spells” He sits still, staring at his hands for several moments before he looks up. When his gaze meets mine, I can see the grim look of fear etched into every line of his handsome face. “It's likely the same conjurer who killed your grandmother. And Skater Girl … they won’t stop trying until you're dead, too.”
#
That last revelation has me reeling, so I politely tell the two boys that I need some privacy and that they should—quote—get the fuck out.
I sit on the floor of the shower, letting the hot spray relax me. Finding out that the supernatural serial killer who murdered my grandmother is trying to off me via evil monster is … disheartening, to say the least. Unbelievable at best. And all because I’m some magic-wielding voodoo guardian fighting for the balance of the universe? The whole situation has me more than a little overwhelmed.
I'm not sure how long I stay there decompressing, tracing my fingertips across the faint white lines of crisscrossing scars that are all over the bottoms of my feet. Note to self: ask the boys about almost dying and why I don't have any wounds.
By the time the water runs cold, I feel like I can handle the situation—mentally, at least, if not physically. I get dressed in skinny jeans and a white t shirt with a gold Triforce symbol on it (from the video game, Zelda, of course). I also take the time fix my hair and makeup; there are two good-looking dudes in my house, after all. Subtle cat eye and a sick matte navy-blue lipstick should do it. I finish the outfit off with white and gold polka dotted Chucks, switching out my glasses for a different pair. I choose something that’s a little more eclectic and pick the clear, thick-framed Warby Parkers that make my gray eyes pop before heading down stairs.
The guys are in the kitchen talking. Or … rather, Zandor is talking and Bastian is listening.
“Hey, hot stuff,” Zan says with a big smile.
“Don't call me hot stuff or I'll kick your ass,” I joke, pointing at him. His smile gets a little wider, and I lift my hand up, palm out in a stop motion before he can start talking again.
“I'm in. I'll be the next Laveau or whatever. But, I have several things I need to say and a few questions that need answering first.” Zan reaches up and pretends to zip his lips shut as I shake my head with a laugh. Bastian, on the other hand, just stands there, stoic and calm and not saying a word. But when I meet his eyes, he gives me a gentle smile. He doesn’t seem surprised by how easily I’m accepting all of this. And anyway, why should he? What kind of idiot faces down literal monsters and then refuses to believe their own eyes. Not this girl right here.
“Firstly, I won’t do this if it's going to get in the way of me getting into UC Berkeley. If it interferes with school too much, I'm done.” I pause for a second, just so they know how serious I am about the college thing. “Secondly, my dad can't ever find out about this stuff. He's already anxious about me doing normal shit. If he finds out that monsters are real, we might end up living in a bunker.” Setting ground rules is making this feel more real and more doable. I take a deep breath. “Which leads me to my first two questions: What the hell are you both? And can everyone see those things or is this some supernatural, fantasy novel type BS?”
“We are yours.” This time, it's Bastian who speaks. He says it like that should explain everything.
“Like Fifty Shades of Grey or …” I trail off, not exactly sure why I said that. Sebastian pinches his brow like he doesn't get the reference while Zandor's eyes get huge and he starts chortling.
“Oh my god, cutie. You're such a perv.” My face heats. I can't believe I'm blushing again. “What Bas meant was, if you’re the hoodoo princess then we’re your voodoo knights, your smoking hot, magic-wielding honor guard.” He leans against the counter, looking every bit the sexy bad boy stereotype. “But, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take it in a Fifty Shades sort of direction.” Zandor licks his lips flirtatiously then gives me a wink.
“In your dreams, Skater Boy,” I say with a smile of my own. I barely know Zan, but it feels like we’ve been good friends for years. There’s just this easiness to him that I can't help but like.
“As for question two, a human can't see most of the loa unless I gift them with the sight,” Zandor continues, biting his lip. Okay, that's good news. I can hear a 'but' in that statement though. “They can still attack and kill someone who can't see them though.”
“Fuck,” I blurt, summing up my feelings in one word. All my good cheer disappears under the seriousness of the situation. I'm just an average teenager. How am I supposed to keep my dad safe? How in the heck do I keep myself safe for that matter? I push those thoughts aside. A quote from one of my favorite book characters pops into my head: ‘The best way to get through a shitty situation is to deal with what you can and say fuck it to the rest!’. “What hell are the Invisibles anyway?” I refuse to get too overwhelmed thinking about everything that's happened to me since I got here. Then a thought hits me. “Hold the fucking phone: Is that why you went all serial killer and grabbed my hand yesterday? You were gifting me with the sight, weren’t you?”
That explained that, at least. One minute, I was just a normal chick … and the next, I was seeing monsters. I knew I’d felt something strange when Zandor touched me.
“I had to, for your safety. You can't fight something you can't see. And wow, serial killer? That's pretty harsh, doll.” He jokingly puts his hand over his heart like I've wounded him. “And you were out for a full day, so technically it was the day before.”
“Wait, what?” I pull my phone out of my pocket. The glowing numbers on the screen read Monday, October 16th 9:25 AM. Shit. Dad flies in today and I still need to stop by the school to check in with the office to get my schedule and my textbooks, not to mention find my classes and my locker.
“How do we stop the ghost monsters or whatever they are from attacking me or my dad?” I choke out, my eyes catching on all sorts of weird things in my grandmother’s kitchen—jars of herbs, jars with floating things in them, symbols etched into the surface of the wood cabinets. I can’t help myself; I shiver a little.
“The Invisibles are a nickname for all loa. There are barrier spells built into the foundation of this house and land. Once you replace the ones already here with your own, they'll be strong enough to keep even the most powerful loa at bay. We need to do it as soon as possible, but to do that, we'll need the others.”
“There are others? How many more of you are there?” I ask, completely exasperated. This is the kind of information you'd think they would automatically tell me about. How many more unknowns were just waiting around the corner for me to be surprised by?
“Just two more: Samuel Baron and Kriminal Lacoste. They’re both really, really powerful loa—especially Sam.”
“Loa. You guys are loa, too? I thought loa or whatever were evil monsters?”
In that velvety voice of his, Bastian answers my question.
“No, loa just are. As with anything, some are good, some are bad, and some are neither. You oppose those who would shift the balance in a dark direction.” When my gray eyes meet the bright emerald of his, I can see the hint of an encouraging smile resting on hi
s full lips. My heart pounds in my chest and I don't want to look away.
“When do I meet them?” I ask, forcing my gaze from the forest green depths of Sebastian’s eyes. Zandor gives me a playful look, raising his eyebrows like he knows I was checking out Sebastian.
“They'll be here at midnight. And Sera …” Zan starts, finally giving me a nickname that I like, running his fingers through his golden hair.
“Yeah,” I reply a little warily.
“Be prepared because Sam is a huge flirt. And Krim, he's an asshole.”
I'm not sure which of those sounds worse.
“Is there anything else I should know?” I ask with a sigh.
“Just one more thing: it's not bubblegum you smell, it's skate wax,” Zan says with a wink, and then he’s just … gone.
My new high school is exactly what I expected—at least on the outside. It’s an older building that’s clearly been updated and renovated many times since it was built. Manicured lawns, a football field, and parking lot sit off to one side. Next to main entrance, there’s a big sign telling everyone Staff Meeting, October 18th in glowing letters.
Boring as can be. That is, until I feel the slightest tingle on my skin, like a sudden cold breeze.
I glance up and through the second story windows to find someone watching me. Something about the vague figure seems familiar even though I can't quite make out who it is from my position on the sidewalk. But the feeling of being watched follows me all the way to the main doors of the school.
By the time I get done in the guidance office, fifth period has already started so I opt out of actually attending today. My dad will be upset if he doesn't get to drop me off at my first day anyway. The hushed footsteps of my Chucks on the linoleum floors seem unbearably loud in the deserted hallways, and I can’t help but imagine what it’d be like if one of those … loa showed up here today. I roll my eyes and take a peek at my list as I head for my locker; I really don't feel like lugging fifty pounds of books around while I search for my classrooms.
My locker is on the second floor, but I manage to find it pretty quick. I put in my combination and it unlocks. The handle lifts, but the damn door doesn't budge. Must be jammed—kind of like those colored doors back at the new … err, old house. I’ll have to see what’s in them, or if it’s really true that Zandor used to live there.
“You stupid fucking thing,” I curse at it, like maybe that’ll somehow make it open. I give the metal door several hard whacks.
A short girl with jet-black hair and delicate doll-like features comes out of the bathroom right as I start slamming away on it like a crazy person. Instead of ignoring me, she comes over to help.
“Let me try. Mine did the same thing when I first got it.” She seems genuine enough, so I let go and give her a little room. It takes her a few tries and several more really hard smacks, but she gets the crappy thing to unlock.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile, tucking some curly brown hair behind my ear. It’s tipped with teal at the ends, but I can’t commit to more color than that because I’m always changing my mind about it. “I don't think I would’ve gotten the stupid thing open without help.”
“No prob, anything to get out of history for just a little longer. I don't think there’s anything more boring than the Cold War. Makes me want to blow my brains out.” She makes a gun shape with her fingers, pretending to shoot herself. That makes me smile. Because let's be honest: she’s right, the Cold War can bore anyone to death.
I dig around in my backpack. It's one of my favorite possessions. Last year, I looked online for a cool backpack, but they were all either boring or cheap, so I bought a plain black canvas one. I spent the following weekend watching anime and stitching these cool symbols into it, copied over from the weird baby blanket my grandma had sent my mom when she was pregnant—the only present I ever received from her. Once I started, I just couldn’t stop until it was done. It turned out pretty sweet. I take it everywhere with me and feel naked when I don't have it.
I pull out my new textbooks, throwing them in my locker. I'll get 'em out when and if I need them because if George Washington High is anything like every other school in America, most of them will sit my locker collecting dust until the end of the year.
“I wouldn't want to pull you away from such a riveting subject, but could you tell me where, uh …” I pause for a second, looking for the room number of my first class on the list. “Room MA214 is?” I ask, slamming my locker shut.
“Let me see that for a sec,” the girl says and just grabs the paper right out my hand like we’ve been friends for years, not strangers that met less than ten minutes ago. I don't mind though. In fact, I think I’m already starting to like her.
“You're in five of the same classes as me—including AP History with Mr. Cook. Besides homeroom, the only class we have different is first period. I have chem and you have physics. English is down the hall, history is right there …” My new friend rambles on, pointing to a classroom a few doors down. “Science is downstairs while math, art, and foreign languages are on the other side of the main entrance. If you want, we can meet up after first period and I can show you how to get to all your classes,” she offers, handing me her phone.
“Sweet, thanks. That'd be awesome,” I say, genuinely thankful and taking her phone so I can add my number to her contacts.
“No problem. You seem like a cool chick. I'm Hannah Edwards, by the way.” The girl introduces herself with a sharp nod and a grin. “Let me shoot you a text so you have my number, too,” she adds as she types.
“Serefine Laveau, but everyone calls me Sera.” We slowly walk towards the history classroom Hannah pointed out while we wait for her text to pop up on my phone.
“Laveau. Like … the Rosette Laveau?” Hannah asks, absentmindedly making conversation as she slides her palms down the front of her pink cashmere sweater.
“Yeah, she's my grandmother. Was my grandmother. My dad and I just moved into her cool, old house. Did you know her or something?”
Hannah's eyes get as big as saucers.
“You live in Hoodoo House?! That is so fucking awesome,” she groans as we stop in front of the history classroom. “I've always wanted to live in a haunted house. Anyway, I have to get back to class before Mr. Cook thinks I've bailed.” Hannah lets out a long, exaggerated sigh and plays with the tips of her raven-dark hair. “I'll meet you outside your physics class tomorrow. I always meet my boyfriend, Scott, there anyway. He has AP Physics for first period, too.”
“’Kay, cool. See you tomorrow,” I say with a wave.
Not even one day at my new school and I'm already making friends; I think this might be a world record.
#
I jump on my skateboard as soon as I clear the front entrance, deciding to check out the surrounding area before I call a cab home. Maybe I can find I place to skate after school? It's just past two o'clock in the afternoon and my dad doesn't fly in until seven. I can hang out for an hour or so and still be home hours before he lands in Louisiana.
I feel fucking great: I'm riding my board in an awesome new city, my dad's coming home, we live in a cool old house, and I seem to have already sort of made a new friend. I feel like nothing can ruin my mood today … then I see him standing right in the middle of the sidewalk.
The sexy jerk with the storm gray eyes and the nasty attitude, the one I met on my way home from crazy Mrs. DeBellevue's house. Ripped jeans tucked into black boots, a tight gray wife beater, and a worn denim vest show off the generous swell of his tattooed arms. He stands there with a bloodred messenger bag hanging behind his shoulder, the strap clutched in his right hand, like he’s some sort of epic anime character or something. The other hand is tucked in the pocket of his jeans, and he has that total too cool to care vibe going on.
Hot as he is, I intend to just skate right past him. He moves to block my way at the last second, causing me to stop short. Shaking with rage, I pick up my skateboard.
“What
the hell do you want, asshole?” I snap, not bothering to hide my dislike. Confidence oozes from every pore on his body. He takes several steps toward me till we’re only inches apart, purposefully invading my personal space. My initial reaction is to take a step back.
No, that's exactly what this asshole wants. And I refuse to give even an inch.
Holding my ground, I raise my chin defiantly, not caring that at well over six feet, he towers over me. Being as short as I am, I'm used to people towering over me and I've never let it intimidate me before, so I'm not about to start now. His steely eyes glare down at the same time the seductive scent of leather and jasmine envelopes me.
Something about this guy isn't normal. No, he’s too perfect, his complexion too white, his hair an impossible shimmering, almost iridescent blue-black. He's like a vampire, inhumanly beautiful but dangerous. Predatory. My heart beats faster and my skin breaks out in goosebumps. I wonder what he tastes like? The thought pops into my head before I can stop it, causing me to drop my gaze from his eyes to his lips. It's only for the briefest of moments, but he notices, giving me a self-assured smirk. There’s an undeniable magnetism between us and I hate it. I hate that I'm psychically attracted to him despite his god-awful attitude. His lids droop seductively as he licks his lips, but the subtle gesture is anything but a sensual invitation. It's a warning, a threat, like a lion looking at a gazelle right before the chase.
He leans forward and says one word.
“You.” A kiss of cool breath caresses my ear; a shiver travels down my spine. There's a wild hunger behind his dark gaze and an arrogant smile resting on the sculpted features of his handsome face, a wicked smirk that irritates me to no end. It’s so … so frustrating, that it snaps me out of whatever lust-induced stupor I’d been in only moments before. I'm not a gazelle or some scared animal that will run frightened into the night. Not a little lost lamb to lead willingly to slaughter. I'm about to tell him to get out of my personal space when suddenly, he closes the gap between us, gently pressing his lips to mine.