by Angie Sandro
“I’ll show you PMSing,” my cousin hisses. This time I grab her elbow and jerk her back. Things have gotten off on the wrong track. As annoyed as I am with the little man, I need him.
“Both of you, relax. Mala won’t be staying, Angelo. Once I’m safe, she’ll go home—”
“But—” Mala begins, but I override her.
“Or Landry will come looking for you. Do you really want to explain this?” I wave my hands to encompass the whole stupid situation. “Ferdinand wouldn’t send me out here if he didn’t think I’d be safe.”
“About Ferdinand. Are you talking about Ferdinand Lafitte? Guy who used to work for my aunt?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“’Cause I’ll lay down money that the bastard knows what’s going on. Ferdie and I are long overdue for a chat.” Mala steps forward. “Angelo, I’m going in or we’re both leaving. What do you think Ferdinand would do if he found out you screwed this up?”
Angelo drops the knife down to his side. “Shit; fine.”
He and the big guy get back in the truck. It doesn’t take long for them to wrench the tree to the side. Mala and I follow them down the road in her truck. When I question her about Ferdinand, she says it’s a long story and she needs to concentrate on navigating.
I lean back in the seat and rub the goose bumps on my arms. A quiet Mala is a scary Mala. She only clams up when she’s strategizing. Whether the plan she devises will be any good or a load of crap remains to be seen. But it won’t be the first time I’ve waded into some nasty business without my rubber boots.
Another five minutes of bumping down a narrower path ends at a gate. Barbed wire lines the top, as well as the fence encircling the property. Motion sensor-activated spotlights light up the driveway and yard we enter after passing through the keypad-operated gate. For being set off in the middle of nowhere, I expected it to be more rundown. Instead, it’s set up with high-tech surveillance equipment, which I assume is powered by a generator somewhere on the property.
“I think these guys are drug dealers,” Mala whispers, as if they can hear us. She pulls the truck in behind theirs and shuts it off. Neither of us move. Shadows streak from all corners of the yard, barking and growling. Dogs scare me. I once got bit by a stray and had to get rabies shots. It sucked, big time.
Angelo stands in front of our truck and waves at us. Yeah…hell no.
I roll down the window. “Can you put the dogs up?”
“You’ll be fine. They know you’re with me.” He scratches a pit bull behind the ears then slaps his leg and whistles. The dogs scatter. He heads toward the house, not bothering to see if we’ll follow. He probably doesn’t care.
The renovated farmhouse has been set up on stilts to protect the base from flooding during the rainy season. Angelo waits on the porch. No dogs remain in sight, but I keep an eye out for a reappearance. I might end up using my bionic legs to jump on the roof of the truck if they reappear. And no, I’m not proud of this thought.
Angelo waves us into his house. Mala and I follow, keeping one eye on our backs. Despite his sudden welcome, there is no way in hell that I’ll fully trust Angelo.
The interior looks like a typical frat house. Beer cans and cardboard pizza boxes are stacked in piles on the table in the corner. How nice. They didn’t bother to clean up for company.
The heavyset man walks to the sofa facing a big screen TV, where Call of Duty has been paused. Soon the sound of rifle shots fills the living room.
Angelo frowns at his friend then glances around with impatience, drawing down the corners of his lips. “Flaco, get your fat ass up. We got company.”
Flaco tears his eyes from the game in obvious surprise. Screams come from the television, and he looks at the screen and curses when he sees his soldier has been eaten by a wolf. He tosses the controller onto the couch and stomps from the room.
Angelo gathers up the stray clothes covering the other side of the couch. He motions for us to sit down. “Ferdinand said he’ll be here in five. He also said I’m to be respectful.” He gives Mala a slight nod and a sappy smile. Obviously now that he’s seen her in the light, he’s overtaken by her beauty and charm. Well, charm’s a bit of a stretch.
My cousin gives a disdainful sniff. She picks a plastic knife off the table and brushes a grimy, supersized pair of boxers onto the floor, then settles next to me on the couch. She rubs her arms as if chilled and stares off into a corner of the room. Prickles run across my own skin. It always freaks me out when she gets that distant glaze to her eyes. It’s like she sees into another world. Now I know she actually does.
Angelo blushes and kicks the underwear underneath the coffee table. “Sorry for being such a hard ass earlier. We don’t get many visitors out here. You’re right about Ferdinand. He’d kill me if he found out I disrespected his friends.”
“Literally,” Mala mutters.
Angelo acts like he doesn’t hear, but his next words seem directed toward her. “I owe him big. I got caught up with a negative element as a kid, and he kept me out of juvie.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “Were you innocent?”
“Innocent that time.” Angelo snorts with laughter. “All the times before that I’d been guilty, just hadn’t gotten caught. The one time I had nothing to do with the crime, I get picked up. Ferdinand hired a lawyer for me and convinced the guilty party to step forward. He’s pretty persuasive.”
Mala plunks her elbows on her knees and leans forward. “Was that the last time?”
Angelo’s eyes go glassy as he focuses on my cousin’s chest. I kick the table, toppling his beer can pyramid, and he jumps. The tips of his ears turn as red as his shirt. “Huh?”
Poor Angelo. I hide my giggle behind a well-timed cough. “Your boobs are distracting him,” I say. “He missed the question.”
Mala scowls. With her obsidian eyes and hawklike nose, she can be pretty intimidating. “I’m just curious whether Ferdinand wasted his time. Or did you learn your lesson?” she asks.
Angelo looks sheepish. “I learned, but it took me being on probation to get straight. I joined the Marines after high school for the GI Bill, and after my tour, got a job with Ferdinand’s security firm.”
“Wow,” I say, nodding. “Ferdinand seems to be a good influence. I’m kind of impressed.”
“Yeah, like I said, I owe Ferdinand. He grew up poor in Haiti, but he turned his life around. Started his own business. He does right by his people. My family came from Puerto Rico before I was born. They struggled to keep us kids fed and clothed, but I thought what they did wasn’t enough. Turned to crime. Ferdinand taught me to want more for my life. I won’t be sitting in this shack when I’m thirty, smokin’ weed and playing video games like Flaco.”
“I heard that, man,” Flaco’s plaintive voice trails out of a back room.
“You were meant to hear, you lazy hijo e puta,” Angelo yells.
A knock on the door ends Angelo’s tirade against the hapless Flaco. Angelo holds up his hand and motions for us to be silent. Mala grabs my arm and pulls me to the far side of the room where we’ll be concealed behind the door. Angelo waits until we’re out of sight then pulls a gun from beneath his shirt, not hard for us to miss given his baggy clothing, and looks through the peephole.
“It’s Ferdinand,” he tells us, opening the door. “Hey, Boss.”
Ferdinand enters the room, stealing a glance over his shoulder. I step into sight and the tension releases from his shoulders. I grin in response, running over to give him a self-conscious hug. “Thanks for the help. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I’m tacking rescue services onto my bill.”
I roll my eyes. “If I survive, I’ll cash out my non-existent retirement fund.”
Mala steps around the door and the mood shifts. Tension arcs between her and Ferdinand, as if the air’s become electrified. Curls on my head straighten—the copper strands standing upright around my face. But the scariest part is the way my cousin�
��s eyes shift—the brown taking on a yellowish cast.
I step back from them, sensing I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever wicked mojo’s being tossed around right now.
Which is stupid. Why would they be on the verge of fighting? They worked together to raise me from the dead, so I assume they were on friendly terms at least, if not BFFs.
I swallow hard. “What’s going on?”
“Ferdinand…it’s been a while,” Mala says. Not like she’s pleased to see him. “Bessie will be interested to know you’re in town.”
“Since our last meeting ended with her hitting me in the face with a lamp, I thought it would be best to avoid her.”
Mala steps forward. “You should’ve avoided me, too, you son of a bitch.” Her hand whips out, fingers bending into claws. She twists her hand to the left.
Ferdinand cries out, clutching his head. “Stop.”
“Aren’t you proud, Teacher? I’ve been practicing.” Her hand clenches into a fist. The prickly feeling intensifies. My gums tingle. The air crackles with energy, and the smell of ozone fills the room. Any minute I can imagine lightning shooting across the ceiling to strike Ferdinand. And maybe it does, only I can’t see it.
Ferdinand screams again, staggering in her direction, then he topples.
Angelo and I share shocked glances and leap toward them.
“Whoa, hold up!” I grab for Ferdinand, catching him before he hits the ground. Angelo goes for Mala. I doubt he understands what’s happening any more than I do, but it’s not hard to figure out Mala’s the cause. My cousin doesn’t even look at Angelo. She sweeps out her other hand, and Angelo flies into the air. He slams into the wall and slides to the floor.
Ferdinand twists in my arms, screaming. Blood trickles from his ears and nose. If I hadn’t been juiced, I’d never have the strength to hold onto him.
“Stop!” I scream. “Mala, you’re killing him.”
“Serves him right.” Her voice vibrates with rage, but she’s not out of control. This attack is not at all like her. She bluffs like a card shark, but never straight-out attacks first. Her attention never wavers from Ferdinand. Hate rolls off her—as dark as anything I’ve felt in the shadow dreams.
“Do you know how many people he helped Magnolia kill?” She spits out the words. “They almost killed Landry, my father, and Aunt March. Georgie.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Mama.”
“Ms. Jasmine?”
“When Magnolia tried to possess me, I saw her whole evil plan. Start to finish, years in the making. She twisted the minds of the men who killed Mama. Took their free will and set them loose on her like rabid dogs. ”
Daddy…did she corrupt him too? I don’t have the stomach to ask. What if Mala says no, and he really was evil?
“Oh God. Mala, I’m so sorry.” I lay Ferdinand on the ground. He doubles up in a fetal positon. His eyes have rolled up in his head, and he convulses. “But Ferdinand’s not Magnolia. Killing him won’t bring back the dead. Let him go; you’re better than this. Please.”
Mala’s panting. Sweat dots her forehead. A splotch of crimson stains her right nostril, then spills down across her lip. Her body trembles, and she collapses to a knee. Whatever she’s doing is killing her, too.
“Malaise, please.”
She lets out a sob, and her hand drops. “I can’t…I can’t do it.”
Thank God! I glance over at Ferdinand. He lays on his back, breathing hard. But he’s still alive. I run over to my cousin and wrap my arms around her. “Fuck! What the hell?”
“Cussing sounds weird coming from you.” She presses her face into my shoulder, and I pat her back.
“Yeah, you’re a bad influence.”
“I know.”
Angelo glances over at me with wide eyes. He seems more shocked than hurt. I nod in Ferdinand’s direction, and he crawls over to him. Ferdinand’s bloodshot eyes are open. When they fall on Mala, guilt fills them instead of anger. What the hell happened between them? And why did neither of them bother to tell me?
It takes a good thirty minutes and four Tylenol for Ferdinand to recover enough to hold a conversation. Mala’s not much better. Angelo and I take care of our patients, avoiding each other. When both are mobile again, we meet back in the living room.
Mala sits in a recliner while I perch on the armrest. Ferdinand stretches out on the couch. Angelo flanks him, standing guard with crossed arms. And I swear he cradles his gun beneath his shirt like a security blanket.
When the silence in the room becomes oppressive, I break the ice. “Okay, I don’t need to hear your story from the beginning. It feels like it’ll be overly complicated, and I’m a bit”—I wave my hands in a circle—“distracted.”
“Don’t you mean slow?” Ferdinand quirks a pained grin. “Don’t worry, it’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. The attack on your home is all over the news.”
“I’m famous or infamous, depending on the perspective,” I joke, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “I know Anders…Never mind, who cares what he thinks anymore.”
Ferdinand shares a frown with Mala. “He still believes you’re involved in the murders? I thought he had more sense.”
So did I, but he’s in deep denial when it comes to the shadow. Unless…what if he just can’t see it?
I open my mouth to explain, then shut it. It’d be better to explain the situation to Ferdinand in private since everyone’s hanging on our words, including Mala, who hasn’t been completely briefed on my supernatural predicament. Of course, after witnessing Mala almost kill Ferdinand with the power of her mind, my cousin, aka Hoodoo Queen extraordinaire, probably won’t be shocked when I spill the whole sordid truth. Angelo, on the other hand, is on a need-to-know basis.
Recognizing the conversation has been abruptly concluded, Mala addresses Ferdinand. “I’d like to know why you’ve ingratiated yourself with my cousin. Why did you bring her out here?”
Ferdinand nods. “It was a security measure…”
Mala interrupts with a raised eyebrow. “Meeting in Bayou du Sang? The same place where Magnolia had Gaston murder all those kids for her soul-swapping spell.” She waves a hand to indicate Angelo’s house. “It’s not a coincidence. Tell me why you chose this house?”
“This farmhouse was built in 1918. I converted it.”
“An entire family was massacred in their beds in this house. Both parents and four children. The veil between our world and the other side’s so thin, anyone who dies here is cursed to walk the land.”
Ferdinand sits up on the couch with a groan. “You keeping your shield up?”
Who? What shield? I scratch my head, looking between them. Spirits. Death. Yeah, I get this on some level since I’ve got Ashmael protecting me. Zombies, ditto. What’s killing brain cells is the fact that Mala and Ferdinand are holding a cryptic conversation about it. It’s like they speak an alien language. Any minute I expect one of them to break into Klingon.
“Yeah, shield’s activated.” Mala crosses her arms and shivers. “The spirits are beating on it like a drum. Okay? Now explain why we’re here.”
Ferdinand rubs a hand across his bald scalp. “If you’ll stop interrupting, I’ll explain. As you’re aware, Dena has been the victim of several attempts on her life. This is but the most recent.”
Mala lets out a gusty sigh. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid—”
Ferdinand ignores the outburst. “However, the attempts have escalated. They won’t stop until they’ve accomplished their objective, which appears to be Dena’s death.”
I raise my hand, clearing my throat. “Actually their objective changed. Tonight they tried to force me to go with them. They started trying to kill me after I resisted.”
“And how did you do that, exactly?” Mala asks. “And why does Anders think you’re the one who burned the assassin?”
I shrug modestly. “Well, that Tae Kwon Do class helped. Plus Anders wasn’t thrilled that one of thos
e men thrust a gun in my face then tried to kill him. About burning the assassin, it’s complicated, and he doesn’t believe me.”
“Anders has a limited imagination,” Ferdinand says.
Mala nods. “And a history of involving himself in dangerous situations. I talked to a gossipy records clerk at New Orleans PD. He got put on admin leave while they investigated the murder of his partner. Most think he had something to do with it.”
“I told you; it wasn’t Anders,” I snap.
Mala’s eyebrows lift.
I stifle my groan, embarrassed I’ve opened my big mouth. But I couldn’t stay silent when they were attacking his honor. He isn’t here to defend himself, which makes him seem vulnerable to me. For some crazy reason.
Mala’s eyes narrow on my face. What is she thinking? Hell, what am I thinking?
I shake my head and continue, “Anders believes whoever took over Magnolia’s organization after she died is coming after me, and I agree. I also think I know why.” I go silent for a long moment, ideas churning through my mind as pieces come together. “Hey, Angelo. Mind if I speak with Ferdinand and Mala alone?”
Angelo looks to Ferdinand for permission. At the big guy’s nod, he goes to the door. I wait until he goes outside before turning to face Ferdinand. A sudden chill runs down my spine. “You know, don’t you.”
Ferdinand’s head tilts to the side, and his lips quirks in a tiny grimace. “What?”
“Don’t play me for an idiot. You brought me to a place where Mala says the veil between life and death is thin for a reason. Tell the truth.” I studied his face. “You know about Ashmael.”
CHAPTER 19
Aren’t Avatars Blue?
Ferdinand stills. “I do.”
I suck in a deep breath and hold it. You’d think by now I’d be used to the pain of betrayal by people I care about, but it stings every time.
Mala looks between us. “Who is Ashmael, Dee?”
My lungs deflate in a heavy sigh. “That’s what I need to know, too.” I shift my attention back to Ferdinand. “So the night we first met wasn’t an accident like I thought?”