Dark Confessions

by Angie Sandro

  A head with wild curls pops through the door. “Boo!” Jasmine screams, then laughs.

  Crap! I almost choke to death on my spit.

  “Mama—” Mala snaps, patting my back as I cough. “What happened?”

  “I told Landry we’re ready for the breakout. The Lafitte clan summoned up a huge dust storm in the cane field. A funnel cloud’s headin’ our way. Best we shake our tails and get out of here ’fore it hits. Follow me.” Her head disappears back into the hallway.

  Mala reaches for the doorknob and twists. Then jerks on it. “Locked.”

  Of course it is. “I’ve got this.” I pull out a bobby pin I had hidden in my curls. “Glad Victor missed this.”

  “He probably thought the rope would hold us. He didn’t know who he was fucking with.”

  “Language.”

  “You’ve said worse. Who do you think I learned it from?”

  I strip the plastic end of the bobby pin and adjust the tip to fit the lock. It catches inside, and the lock turns. “Do as I say, not as I do. Cursing’s a bad habit that’s hard to break.”

  “Don’t I know it. My curses can make a person’s hair fall out,” she whispers, pulling open the door. “Mama?”

  “Still clear. Come on.” Jasmine’s voice comes from down the hall. The floor creaks with each step. My heart hammers. I do not want to tangle with Victor. I’m confident in my ability to handle a normal man, but he left his humanity behind long ago.

  A roar fills the house, growing louder and louder. The walls shake. Chunks of plaster drop from above as half of the ceiling comes down at the far end of the hallway, blocking our escape. Muffled screams come from behind the debris.

  From my memory of the earlier surveillance, the back door’s boarded up. The only visible way out was through the front door. I glance at Mala, who stares back at me with wide eyes. She releases a slow breath. “We’re trapped.”

  My hands shake even more violently than the house. “We’ve got to get out before the walls come down.”

  “What about Eva?” Mala asks. “If she’s still in the house, she’s up front with Victor, where most of the damage from the tornado is concentrated. Do we try to dig through the debris? Pry the boards off one of the windows?”

  Jasmine leans around a door frame and waves. “Shut up and move.”

  Heart thudding, I scrabble across fallen debris, following Mala as she races to her mother, and close the bathroom door behind us. Where the toilet once sat there’s nothing but a jagged hole in the floor. Water damage rotted the floorboards straight through. Dust fills the air, and I wave my hand in front of my face. Mala drops to the edge of the hole and slides into the crawl space beneath the house.

  I join her in the darkness. “Mala, where are you?”

  “Here.” She touches my hand. “Do you see Mama?”

  I squint, like that will do me any good in the pitch-blackness. My hand lands in something squelchy and rotting. Ugh. I found the decaying carcass I smelled earlier. My stomach revolts, but I swallow the chili again. It doesn’t taste good the second or third time I ingest it. Not at all.

  A silvery blue glow comes from up ahead. Jasmine. She’s beautiful, like an angel beckoning us to safety. “Move your flabby ass, Bessie, ’fore you get my girl killed.”

  I grit my teeth. “Devil woman,” I hiss back. “Remind me to never again let Mala talk me into seeing ghosts. You’re as annoying now as when you were alive and cussing me out from the back of my patrol car.”

  “Good times.” Jasmine points toward the field. “The fightin’ started. Hear the gunshots?”

  “Let’s get Mala to safety,” I say, and Jasmine nods. At least in this, we’re of one mind. I crawl toward the edge of the house and peek into the yard. A booted foot almost squashes my hand, and I jerk it back. Black cargo pants are tucked into the boot. I lean forward and look up. The man holding an assault rifle drops to his knees, using the corner of the house for cover. He aims across the lawn. The roar from the twister drowns out the rustling of Mala crawling through the dirt as she wiggles to his other side, flanking him.

  I pick up a broken chunk of floorboard and nod to Mala. Rolling from beneath the house, I rise to my knees and swing the board in one fluid motion. A loud crack fills the air as it breaks against the guy’s arm. He screams, dropping his gun. I use my weight to pin him to the ground and jam my knee into his back. Mala grabs his rifle and slams the stock against the back of his head. He goes quiet.

  “Is he dead?” Mala shouts to be heard over the wind.

  I check for a pulse, then flash her the okay sign with my fingers. She mimes wiping sweat off her brow, then points. In the distance, two large men run across the open field. Ferdinand and Landry. This guy would’ve shot them if I hadn’t knocked him out. How many more of Victor’s guys have their guns locked on our men?

  “Let’s take out as many out as we can,” I tell Mala.

  Mala gives an evil grin. “Good plan.”

  I remove the guy’s sidearm and the extra clips from his belt. Mala gestures toward the opposite side of the house, but I shake my head. We need to watch each other’s back. I grab her hand and edge from the protection of the house. That’s when I see it.

  The tornado. Heaven’s mercy, Ivy and her mama pulled off conjuring an honest-to-goodness twister. It crashes through the picket fence, weaving toward us like a drunk riding a bicycle, destroying everything that stands in its way.

  Crap! I’m in the way.

  Mala tugs on my hand. “Run!”

  CHAPTER 16

  Ferdinand

  Twister

  Damn twister won’t listen to commands. Why did I let Permelia talk me into using such an unstable element? Desperation, pure and simple. I couldn’t think of a better way of distracting Victor’s guards and getting to the farm without bloodshed on our side.

  A damn tornado…I’ve lost my mind.

  Every minute Elizabeth remains in Victor’s hands feels like my heart’s being slowly ripped from my chest. No exaggeration. Magnolia once bragged about punishing a rival in the previous century by making him watch while she removed his heart. I couldn’t imagine a worse way to die, until now. Not knowing if Bess is okay—it’s torture. It makes me do asinine shit like agreeing to allow my kids and their mother to conjure up a bloody tornado that’s more of a detriment to the mission than a help.

  It zooms across the earth, sucking up whatever gets in its path: dirt, trash, and people. So far only the enemy, but it’s a force of nature, unable to discriminate between good and bad. Only the ones casting the spell make that determination, and when the tornado suddenly alters course to careen toward the house, I question whether Permelia can retain control of it over such a long distance. They’d remained at the staging area because they’re vulnerable to attacks while practicing magic. I didn’t want to put Bastian and Ivy at risk when they couldn’t defend themselves.

  Landry and I run behind the tornado, using the dirt cloud it kicks up as cover from the men guarding the property. My eyes sting despite the goggles I borrowed from Permelia’s bodyguard. Particles make their way beneath the bandanna tied around my mouth and leave me coughing to clear my lungs. I’m wheezing when I reach the picket fence and almost spear myself in the ass with my awkward leap over it.

  A shot rings out. Landry and I drop to scramble behind a tree. We decided earlier to split up and take out the mercenaries posted in the east and west corners of the large front yard. George and Anders will do the same in the backyard. Once the lookouts are incapacitated, we’ll storm the house together.

  Landry points toward the west side of the house opposite the tornado, and I nod. He sprints toward the yard, using the trees as cover, while I scan the immediate area. The men guarding the perimeter scatter like the ancient Egyptians from the mighty fist of heaven as the tornado rips the picket fence from the ground. Boards shoot in all directions.

  A scream from above draws my attention toward the top of the funnel cloud. Some poor basta
rd tried to fight the tornado and lost. The mercenary’s legs whip through the air, like a doll tossed into the sky. He flies across the yard, smashes into the side of the house, and drops in a rosebush. A woman shouts. Two dark shadows sprint away from the body.

  The tornado follows like a guided missile.

  “Elizabeth,” I yell, despite knowing she can’t hear my voice over the roar of the wind. Damn, Permelia. Did she lose control of the spell? Or is she using this as an opportunity to take out her rival by killing Mala?

  I run in Bess’s direction. More cries come from what’s left of the tornado-ravaged roof. Smoke spirals into the air, and it’s not coming from the chimney. Anders freed the spirit of Death, and it’s burning one of Victor’s men.

  A gunshot rings out, and a splash of heat burns my shoulder. I dive behind what turns out to be a metal slide from an old swing set. I clap a hand over the pain, but I don’t feel blood. I peek around the corner of the slide. A merc runs in the direction I last saw Bess heading. I fire a few shots at him. He trips, but catches his balance and scurries around the side of the house. I’m pretty sure one of my bullets tagged him, but it doesn’t slow him down. I can’t let him sneak up on Bess. I sprint across the yard.

  My heart almost climbs my throat when I round the corner. My perceptions shift into slow motion as stark terror fills me. Each step feels like I’m moving backward, like running the wrong way up an escalator. Bess is fighting one of Victor’s men, and the guy I’m chasing is closing in on her fast. Because of the whipping wind, I can’t shoot without risking injuring her. Damn it! I’m too far away to intercede in this fight.

  Not that she needs me.

  Bess gives the mercenary a closed-fist jab to his throat, and he doubles over. She grabs his head and rams her knee to his face. He stumbles back, hands rising, but she does a right-left combo that makes my heart sing and follows with an upper cut. He hits the ground and doesn’t rise.

  The second guy jumps over his fallen comrade. Bess twists, narrowly avoiding his wild punch. He swings again, overextending. Bess ducks his arm. Coming up behind him, she leaps onto his back. Her arms wrap around his neck, placing him in a choke hold. He rears backward and slams her against the house. She slips but doesn’t release her hold. He fights to remain on his feet.

  I don’t slow down. I’m almost there. Hang on.

  A body smashes into me from the side, and I fall. A fist slams into my face, once, twice. The goggles fall off, and I raise my arms to protect my face. Damn, I’m getting my ass kicked by a girl half my size. Again.

  I grab her hands and push up. “Mala, it’s Ferdinand.”

  Mala rears upward, breathing hard. “Damn goggles. I thought you were one of the bad guys. Get Bessie out of here.” She climbs to her feet and races off into the night.

  I shake my head to clear the dizziness and stand up.

  Bess crouches on one knee. The two guys lay at her feet, sacrifices to my warrior queen. When I reach her side, she staggers upright and raises her fists.

  “Ma douce chérie…”

  Bess unclenches her fists. “What took you so long?” she cries, and throws herself into my arms. Warmth, like melted caramel, replaces the icicles in my veins. I lift her off her feet, my lips finding hers. I shove all the raging fear, the relief, and every bit of the love I feel for this woman into the kiss. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she returns everything I give times one hundred.

  Coming up for air, I press a final kiss to her cheek and whisper, “Sorry I’m late.”

  She pulls back with a laugh. “Are you okay?”

  “Me?” I give her another squeeze. “You’re the one who just took out two mercs with your bare hands.”

  “Three, actually. But who’s counting?” She gives an arrogant shrug, and I chuckle as she waves off her accomplishment.

  Movement comes from the corner of my eye. I twist, swinging Bess out of the line of fire, and stomp on the mercenary’s hand. A kick to his head knocks the bastard out again. Crouching, I pull the gun from his broken fingers and pass it to Bess, then begin to strip the other man of his gun and ammo.

  Bess guards my back. “How many of Victor’s men are left?”

  “The tornado got one. Anders got another on the roof. Plus your three makes the five we saw guarding the perimeter earlier. We don’t know how many were inside the residence, but I imagine some got taken out when the roof caved in.”

  Bess glances over her shoulder. “I heard their screams.” She swallows and faces outward again. “What about Mala? We escaped together but got separated when the tornado spat a body at us.”

  I rub my aching jaw. “She was doing just fine the last time I saw her. She ran toward the front of the house. Probably going after Landry.” I find zip ties in the vest pocket of one of the mercenaries and hand a couple to Bess. “Bind that guy for me.”

  Bess finishes and stands. She waves toward the twister, which is retreating away from us across the fallow field. “Any way you can turn that off?”

  “It’ll fizzle out any minute. The power required to run it is limited. Ivy, my son, Bastian, and their mother cast the spell.”

  “Quite a powerful family you have. I can’t wait to meet Ivy’s mom.” Bess’s voice bristles with sarcasm. “Let’s find the others. Jasmine said a black Escalade showed up at the house earlier.” She begins to jog toward the front of the house. “Sound familiar?”

  I think back to the high-speed chase on the freeway. “The witch?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid they did something to Eva. If she took her…I won’t stop until I get my niece back. Victor’s the only one who can answer our questions.”

  The witch who followed us across the bayou has real power. With Ivanov dead, she could be taking advantage of the vacuum he left. Or did she order the attack on Dena, and Ivanov was a pawn in her bid for the vacant throne? This seems more like the truth. She’s either the Second or Third. If Eva becomes as powerful as Dena and the witch now controls her, we’re in double trouble.

  We stay close to the house, using it for cover. I guide Bess past the toppled tractor, pointing out a sharp blade sticking from the earth.

  “There they are,” I whisper to Bess, running toward the tree everyone has gathered around. Mala and Bess share quiet hugs. I huddle in beside Landry and George. “Are we clear?”

  George nods. “We haven’t seen any more of Victor’s men. I radioed dispatch, and Dixie’s sending backup. I also texted Ivy. She said they’re on the way.”

  “What about Dena and Anders?”

  “I last saw them by the driveway,” Landry says, wrapping his arms around Mala. Judging by the possessive way he holds her, he won’t let her out of his sight anytime soon. “Anders set his shadow friend free. I didn’t stick around in case it went vengeful-spirit and tried to roast my ass. Ms. Jasmine led me to Mala.”

  Mala grins and pats his chest. “Thanks for the rescue.”

  He plants a hard kiss on her lips. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

  Bess smiles softly at them, then stiffens as two shadows run from beneath the trees.

  My gun rises, then drops when Dena yells, “Mala!” She sprints across the lawn so fast that she’s a blur, grabs her cousin, and spins her around. They release the hug.

  “You scared half of my undead life from me.” Dena hugs her again. “Are you okay?”

  “Dizzy,” Mala says, weaving on her feet. Landry rests his hands on her shoulders, and she leans against him. Her lips tremble as she takes us in one by one. “I still can’t believe you all came for me. Thank you.”

  “As if we’d leave you to Victor.” Dena’s fist clenches. “The scumbag hasn’t shown himself yet. What about Eva?”

  Bess lays a hand on Dena’s arm. “He and Eva might’ve been in the house when the roof collapsed. There’s also the possibility he took off with the witch who was following us. Jasmine said the witch is a doctor who seemed really interested in Eva.”

  “So Bessie’s guess about her being
injected with the serum is probably correct,” Anders says. “They got what they needed from her and left.” He scowls at the house. Too bad he doesn’t have x-ray vision and can see who’s inside. I hate that we’ll have go in blind.

  Headlights illuminate the end of the road. Permelia and the kids will be here in a few minutes. No telling how Permelia will react upon meeting her queen in person. She set the tornado loose without seeming to care that it might kill Mala. The woman wants Mala’s power, but she’s under the same constraints I am. The blood bond keeps her under control as much as it does me. We both want to be free.

  I plan on asking for Mala’s help.

  Permelia doesn’t ask; she takes what she wants. We need to be finished with one enemy before another, equally unpredictable force of chaos arrives.

  I step forward, then turn. “Time to find Victor. Let’s search the house. Spread—”

  The front door slams open, and Victor staggers across the threshold. He turns sideways, and I see a giant piece of wood embedded between his shoulder blades. What causes me to freeze my automatic rush forward is the woman he carries in his arms, like a bag of rice.

  “Eva!” Bess yells. “Let her go, Victor.”

  Lining up the headshot, I squeeze the trigger, but my initial pause comes at a price. I’m quick on the draw, my shot coming a second before Bess’s, but it doesn’t matter. Victor dodges. Even injured, he’s fast. He shifts Eva in front of him, blocking any attempt at a second shot, and presses a gun to her temple. His finger brushes the trigger.

  “You. All of you. Back off, or she dies.”

  My gun lowers.

  Dena lifts her hands in the air. “No gun. I don’t need one. Neither do you, Victor. Estrada told us he injected Eva with the serum. Bullets won’t do any more damage to her than they do to us. Why don’t you put her down? Face me like a man instead of a cowardly dog.”