by Zoe Forward
Lola waved at her dining table, which she probably never used for meals, but only to invoke spirits and cast spells. “You two sit at the table. I made us tea.”
“Don’t drink,” he whispered to Shannon as they sat.
Her throat worked as she glanced at the table of rotting severed heads of dogs, snakes and lizards—fetishes used in spells ranging from the simplest libido enhancement to the darker rituals. Three skinny, hobbled roosters lay on the floor near the kitchen table ready to be used as sacrifices. On a side table an altar to a goddess was decorated in flashing Christmas lights, flowers, and mini liquor bottles.
He tried to convey reassurance with a small smile, but feared it came out stressed.
Lola placed a cup of tea in front of each of them and nudged at the sugar bowl in the center of the table suggestively. The tea smelled herbal with a splash of something extra that most likely helped push people into “the spirit.”
Lola rubbed her lower lip with her index finger as she stared at Shannon. The excitement in her eyes wasn’t good. “What brings you two all the way out here?”
“We’re searching for something.”
Her gaze snapped to Shannon. “You don’t think you have it? Many think you do. ’Course Papa Ghede told me you thought you didn’t. You want me to help you find it?”
Merck said, “I think we need to clarify what it refers to so we’re all on the same page.”
“Poseidon told Papa Ghede he’s very angry. He don’t like being angry with his son, ya know. But his son is helping the one who stole.” Lola clucked and shook her head. She rubbed her hands together. “Maybe I call on Papa Legba and see if he has anything to tell you about the staff of Poseidon.”
“Is he a more reliable spirit than Papa Ghede?” He distrusted all voodoo spirits. If they didn’t receive the perfect offering and proper veneration they were apt to lie to the conjurer.
“I have a price for asking.”
Of course she did. He gave her a go-ahead-and-name-your-price nod.
“I want the scrying glass that she tried to buy off Harnish.”
“That’s not really your style, Lola.”
“It’s what I decided this be worth.”
“Don’t make me have to hunt you.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Not your business what I do with it. If I use it, then we be seeing who’s got better magic. If a friend uses it, I’ll warn her you be vistin’.” She crossed her arms. “It’s the price.”
He didn’t want to give up the dangerous piece. Shannon chewed on her lower lip and looked at him with a mixture of hope and apprehension.
He wasn’t going to win the argument of not giving it to Lola. If Shannon said please or shed a single tear, he’d do it.
Merck said, “Okay. You want it now or after?”
Lola waved her hand dismissively. “We’ll get around to it.”
She placed beans and rum in small dishes in the center of the table as offerings. Then, she began weaving from side to side, humming. Eventually, she broke into song:
“Legba, open the gates for me
So that I may go through.
Upon my return I shall greet the Iwa.
Voodoo Legba open the gate for me
So that I can come in.
Amen.”
Lola seized a hobbled rooster off the floor and cut off its head with a dirty knife, draining its blood into a calabash bowl. The annoying humming she’d maintained throughout the rooster’s death stopped. Her eyes rolled upward until only the vein-ridden whites were visible. Trembling starting in her arms and overtook her body. Energy stirred in the small kitchen.
Lola’s eyes popped open. Her dilated pupils obscured the pale irises making her eyes appear black. Her body shakes ceased. Silence descended with only the sound of their breathing in the room.
Her gnarled hand reached toward Shannon. “Let me see your hands, honey.”
Shannon stared into the black eyes, mesmerized.
“No.” Merck grabbed Shannon’s hand as it reached toward Lola.
Shannon’s gaze snapped to his, startled and apologetic.
“Lola, Legba, or whoever you may be right now, if you touch her, I’ll cut off both your hands. If it’s worth losing limbs and you hurt her, I’ll ram this knife into your heart.” Merck slammed his black-blade knife on the table. “Are we clear?”
“We’s good.” Lola smiled and folded her hands together on the table. She gazed sightlessly above their heads for several long seconds. Her eyes focused on Shannon. “You must survive to thrive.”
Silence rested between the three of them for several dramatic seconds before she turned to Merck. “That you seek is not ahead of you but now.”
With a headshake, Lola’s head rolled forward onto her chest where it stayed. End of spirit possession. Show over.
All this for two bad lines he could’ve gotten out of a fortune cookie? What a buttload of worthless crap to have suffered the stench of this place and be cheated out of the scrying glass. Usually, Lola provided better information.
Moments later, Lola blinked. “You get what you needed to know?”
Merck pushed away from the table and grabbed Shannon’s hand, encouraging her to stand. “Yep. As always, it’s been an experience. I’ll get the glass out of the car for you.”
Merck pulled Shannon outside. Questions loomed in her gaze.
“Not now.” He retrieved the scrying glass from his duffle bag, walked it up the steps and handed it to Lola.
Lola palmed the piece and laughed. “Nice doin’ business with you. Stop by for tea again.”
He paused on the lower step to face her. “Behave or I’ll be back sooner than either of us would like.”
“Of course, Mister Enforcer.” She fake saluted him.
Shannon didn’t unfold her arms until they were back on the washboard road. “What’d it mean?”
“No clue.” That you seek is not ahead of you but now. Confirmation he had no future.
“I can’t get it to make sense for anything to do with finding the Trident. And, I feel grimy.”
“Sometimes Lola isn’t helpful, like today. It’s rare she has nothing to offer, but she’s not a guaranteed answer. We need to go somewhere with lots of people right now. A tourist trap works best. I usually hit Seaside Papa’s after a Lola visit.”
“Why do we need a place like that?”
“We need somewhere friendly to erase the darkness voodoo leaves.”
The restaurant’s dirt lot had few spaces remaining, and that was with good parking technique. Tourists didn’t excel at make it into the narrow spaces. The rectangular one-story building had retained its homey feel, which he enjoyed, even if it’d been overdecorated with crafty, country shit.
As they entered, the busty brunette hostess lit up. He stifled the oh shit on the tip of his tongue when the thirty-year-old with whom he’d spent a disappointing one-nighter a year ago scanned him from head to crotch. He’d forgotten she worked weekdays.
“Merck, how ya doing, sweetie? It’s been a while.” The hostess’s eyes narrowed with promised payback for not calling or texting afterward.
“We’re two for lunch, Mariah.” He slung his arm around Shannon’s waist and pulled her against him. Her head collided with his chest.
Shannon glanced up with wide eyes. He didn’t know if her look was in reaction to Mariah’s behavior or his. She rose onto tiptoe and pressed her soft lips against his. This was taking it farther than he expected, but it worked for him. Oh, Lord, it worked.
Curtail it or you’ll end up getting kicked out for indecent exposure.
Shannon pulled away with a wicked smile that insinuated all kinds of badness.
He was hooked on Shannon. How he hated being a predictable part of the gods’ plans. If everything continued to be as mind-boggling as it’d been so far every time they touched, then what the hell. He’d stay on the bus and see how far it went.
When he glanced back to Mariah, she�
��d turned several shades of scarlet. Guess she’d received the message he’d moved on.
“This way.” Mariah led through the busy restaurant to a four-seater with a window view of the ocean. He moved around to get Shannon’s chair for her.
As Mariah set a menu in front of Shannon, she whispered, “He might be pretty good in the sack, but he’s not a stayer.” Mariah cast Merck a saccharine sweet smile and left.
Shannon nibbled on her lower lip, but the twitch of a smile creased the corners of her mouth. She glanced up at him. His face heated.
“I never knew you were such a gentleman. Car doors and chairs. Of course, you are a ladies’ man sometimes, aren’t you?”
“My mamma would box my ears if I didn’t hold a chair for a lady.” The Southern charm came easily. The bitch who’d raised him might’ve resented him, but she’d instilled manners from the moment he could talk.
“You and Mariah, huh?”
He glanced toward the hostess station. Stepping into this conversation with Shannon was a bad idea.
He busied himself with the menu. They placed their orders.
“So, what do you think Lola’s answer meant?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry I suggested her. Total waste of time.”
“It’s okay. Had to try something. Any other suggestions?”
As the waitress returned with their drinks she glanced up at the TV screen overhead. “That girl kind of looks like you. Bless her heart, I can’t believe she was attacked on Extreme Survivor. I mean, she was just doing her job, and then someone on the staff went nuts on her with a knife. Weird that the couple who was also attacked on the show disappeared too.” Her tone left the sentence open-ended, waiting for Shannon to comment.
He didn’t miss the dread in Shannon’s gaze when she glanced up at the flash of her image across the screen with the headline: Mystery camerawoman disappears. New lead.
“Maybe the show paid them to all disappear,” Shannon offered.
“She was stabbed while working on the show.” The waitress gazed at Shannon again. “You do really look like her. Are you…?”
“Do I look like someone who got stabbed on a reality show in the jungle?”
“Nah. I guess not. That poor woman.” The waitress shook her head and wandered off.
He sipped tea and stared at the TV, which had now changed to a different news topic. “How exactly did you get hired to work on the show? Did they seek you out?”
“It was last minute. Jen got into her head she had to be on the show. We later found out she’d been hexed to do it, but we weren’t sure who cast it. The producer, Rick, seemed focused on killing my mother and me as a way to wipe out our bloodline. He might’ve been involved with my brothers’ deaths last year. He’s the one who got me with the sword, which must’ve somehow transmitted the Trident’s essence to me.”
“What about Owen? Other than hosting the show how exactly was he involved?”
“Owen convinced Jen he would only date her if she went on the show. She was convinced he was her soul mate. Again, ridiculous, but when we have a chance to find our once-in-a-lifetime guy, we’ve gotta do whatever needs to be done. Jen was convinced. Later we realized it was because Owen gave her a hexed necklace. The good news is Jen’s now husband agreed to be her fake boyfriend for the show and turned out to be the right guy for her. I don’t know how Owen or Rick knew if they got Jen on the show that I’d try to get on as a cameraperson. In the end it seems Jen wasn’t their primary target. It was my mother and me.”
“They could’ve consulted with a fortune teller to find out how to get you on the show. I’m sure Owen knows a few.”
“You mean someone with precognition?”
“Sure. You still think Owen Campbell is the key to understanding what’s going on?”
She glanced at the TV, which now flashed sports scores while cradling her cheek in one hand. He noticed the delicate bones of her wrist—so fragile. She said, “He’s the only lead I’ve got…the only person alive who played a part in me getting run through with a sword, but I agree that he’s dangerous. He was involved in Jen’s hex, but it’s unclear if Owen cast it or his fiancée.”
“The necromancer isn’t dead.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t believe she’s dead. Confronting either of them is a bad idea. They may not know where you are, but once they do, they’ll come after you if you’re important to their plans.”
“I’m not sure I have time for a wait-and-see approach.”
“You don’t need to find them. They’ll find you.”
“Within the next few days?”
“Probably.”
“Sounds like a reunion. Can’t wait.” She pushed her silverware around. “Maybe Lola wasn’t talking about me. Maybe she meant you.”
Damn it, he thought so too.
Chapter Eleven
“The Enforcer? Is that what you’re known by in the world of bad magic?” Shannon picked at the edge of the paper placemat.
“Yes.”
“Why would Lola give information that had to do with you, and not me?”
Merck tented his hands on the table and gazed at them.
The voodoo ritual with the blood, the stench, and the dark energy had scared her until Merck threatened Lola with death. She didn’t doubt he’d have killed Lola, if she crossed the line. Her heart shuddered all over again at the magnificence of protective Merck. Yet, something ate at this man. If she knew, maybe she could help. Whatever bothered him was a big enough issue for a spirit to comment on it rather than her being framed for stealing something from a god.
Merck glanced toward the kitchen. “Wonder where the food is.”
She put her hand over his. “What’s going on? Can I help you?”
He continued to watch the kitchen door as if he prayed for a food reprieve, but he didn’t remove his hand from hers. “We never agreed to discuss me as a part of helping you.”
“You’re right. We didn’t, but I’m worried about you.”
His ended his vigil on the kitchen door. A myriad of emotions passed through his eyes.
“If you’re not ready to talk about it, then that’s okay. You’re complicated. I get that.” She squeezed his hand and let go.
“I have to walk my path alone. That’s the way it is.”
“You’re not alone, at least not right now.” She cracked a small smile.
Merck cleared his throat. He scratched his forehead and rubbed a thumb across one eyebrow. “You’ve been under a death sentence for what? A few weeks? My pink slip on life was handed to me eight years ago. The end for me is coming up real soon.”
“What?” Merck was going to die? “No. No, no, no. You can’t die.” The permanent knot that had taken up residence in her gut the moment she learned of her own death date, tightened. To have known for years that life was limited must’ve devastated him.
His face softened. “I get what you’re going through more than you can imagine. I lived through the fear, the anger, and the denial. I still have all three, but we can’t outrun the gods’ plans.”
“Good Lord, you’ve known this for years?”
He looked haunted.
She hopped up, scooted around the table, and hugged him tight. His arms loosely looped her body, probably a reflex to the unsolicited hug.
“I’m so sorry. What I’ve been going through is awful, but for you... God, Jason...I mean Merck, I’m...” Stop babbling. She resumed her seat. A glance around showed she’d attracted more attention than intended, even though they were in a far corner.
They stared at each other in a silence filled with kindred understanding of the peculiar territory they tread, facing their own deaths.
He said, “You’re handling it a lot better than me. I went a little crazy with drugs, drinking, and women for a long time thinking I’d enjoy life. I planned to go out on a high note or some such bullshit.” He took a long sip of tea. “I didn’t enjoy any of it, either
during or after. So, if you decide your quest to find the Trident is futile and want to enjoy your last bit of time, then think hard on what’s important.”
“What’d you decide is important to you?”
“I want to leave the world a safer place because there won’t be anyone left to do what I do when I’m gone, at least not until the next schmuck who gets this soul stuck into him. Might be fifteen or sixteen years before the next guy can handle all this. That’s a hell of a lot of time without anyone to police the magical community of those who threaten people.”
Oh, my. That broke her heart. All he had to live for was his job. No family. No love. She wanted to hug him all over again.
He ran a hand over his eyes. “Stop looking at me like I’m some sort of hero. I’m not. Never have been. Never will be. I do what I vowed I’d do. It’s not fun, but it’s my job.” He threw a few bills on the table. “Let’s get out of here. Neither of us is hungry.”
She nodded and followed him outside. The ride back to her house was quiet. He parked and walked around to open her door.
An audience of six druids sat on the porch.
“Do you have anything else you could suggest I try to get information?” She fingered the wilted camellias, planning to get them in some water.
“I’ve got someone in Savannah I planned to chat with today about it. I can’t take you with me this time, though.” He reached around her to the glove box, opened it, and pulled out a business card. “If something else comes for you, call me. This has my cell phone number. In the meantime, stay with your protection.”
Chapter Twelve
Shannon faked confidence as she walked to the porch, hyperaware of the druids staring her down. Her mother’s words about these men echoed in her brain, “They’re woven into the fabric of our lives, dedicated to be Pleiades protectors. Yet they’re not just guardians. They’re people. Each and every stubborn butthead. Details, honey. Never forget the details.”
She smiled at the men who would die for her in a heartbeat. Committed, trained, and compassionate. To deny them their job, even if they suffocated her with their protection, wasn’t fair. She hugged the one closest. “God, I’ve missed you guys. We should’ve organized more get-togethers since Mom died. How’s your wife?”