by Ariella Moon
I checked my watch. "Eleven-ten."
"Does your timepiece show you the date? Specifically the year?"
"Oddly, no. But I'm guessing we're back in the present."
Something over my shoulder caught Breaux's attention. He jerked forward, picked up his oar, and threaded it through the oar hook. His smile returned. "There's the boat rental office."
I twisted on the bench. Behind me, Breaux's oar arced into the water and pulled us forward. Ahead, the light from a single lamppost illuminated a small parking lot. Breaux's secondhand hybrid and an oversized pickup were the only vehicles in the lot.
"Any idea what kind of car the drug lord drives?"
Fear prickled my skin. "A nondescript four-door sedan. Why? Do you think he could be waiting for us?"
"He and his buddy might have rented their boat here. Asked around. Good thing there wasn't anything to tie us together."
"The truck might belong to the owner of the boat rental company. Did you notice it when you rented the boat?"
Breaux touched his bloody bandana. "I can't remember."
"What should we do?"
"Go for it," he said without hesitation. "It's our only option."
"Agreed. We worked too hard to give up now. I hope you still have the car keys."
He released the oar long enough to pat the front pocket of his jeans. "Yep. This isn't my first rodeo."
I dragged my oar through the dark water. Several smooth strokes brought us to a small dock where we tied Mam'zelle's rowboat.
"I'll call the rental office later and explain about their boat," Breaux said. "Though I'll leave out the part about it being demolished by a bewitched alligator."
"But it would make such a colorful footnote when you run for Congress." I kept my voice light.
"Ah. No."
We tiptoed side-by-side up the wooden ramp to the parking lot. The truck appeared to be empty, but we kept to the shadows just in case. The breeze blew a piece of paper onto my sneaker. It stuck to my shoelaces. When I bent to brush it off, I realized the paper was a twenty-dollar bill. A small thrill rushed through me. I held it up so Breaux could see it. "Breakfast," I whispered.
"Awesome! I was going to use my gas card at the mini mart." He extracted the keys from his pocket and unthinkingly pressed the remote. The resulting loud beep startled the night birds into silence. We both crouched and held our breath. When no one stirred in the truck, Breaux's shoulders drooped. "Sorry."
"Don't be, Congressman. We're fine."
He escorted me to the passenger's side door. "I wouldn't put too much stock in me becoming a Congress member."
"Why not?"
"Because we may have messed things up by travelling through time."
Remorse slammed me. "And magic always exacts a price."
Breaux opened the car door for me. "Always."
I climbed in and sank into the cushioned seat. "But why would Mam'zelle take the chance? Why would she endanger the very future she wanted for you?"
Breaux placed the backpack at my feet. "To motivate us. Maybe she wanted us to see what was possible so we'd work hard to attain it." He wiggled his eyebrows at me, then closed the car door.
Motivate you, maybe. We visited your bright future, not mine. Then I remembered Ainslie's final words. I will never stop searching for you.
Maybe my future wouldn't suck.
Breaux kept an eye on the truck as he walked around the front of the hybrid. "I think we're cool," he said after he opened the driver's side door, climbed in, and closed the door. For a minute he just sat there and stared out the windshield.
"You okay to drive? You've lost a lot of blood. And you haven't eaten or slept…"
"I'll be fine as soon as I get some food in me." He switched on the ignition. Music blared from the stereo. Startled, I banged my arm on the door.
"Sorry." Breaux lowered the volume. "Wake up!" He patted his cheeks. He shook his head, fluttered his lips, and then yawned wide enough to swallow a monster burger whole. "I think there's an all-night diner once we reach the main highway."
"If you're sure you're okay. I wish I knew how to drive so I could help." I forced my eyes as wide open as possible, determined to stay awake until we could stop somewhere. Fingers crossed, I followed the hybrid's headlights. They swept the parking lot as Breaux rotated the car toward the dark and deserted swamp road.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ainslie
"We're going back."
Yemaya stared at me as though I had grown a second head. "No. We're going to sleep for ten or twelve hours." She placed her elbows on the kitchen table and pointed her dessert fork at me. "Then we will go to the mall, where you will buy me a fabulous pair of boots and a burger. I'm iron deficient after…" Yemaya placed her fork on the plate next to her half-eaten strawberries and cheesecake. She stared down at her hands. "After seeing Christophe again."
I lowered my fork. "It must have been rough."
"I almost didn't recognize him. He should be nineteen now. Didn't he appear much older?"
"I thought he was thirty."
"Me too." Yemaya shook her head. "I wonder what caused him to age ten years?"
"Bad magic?"
"Maybe."
I pointed my fork in Yemaya's direction. "You survived your first dragon flight.
She glanced up. "I wasn't sure you'd come back for me."
"Ye of little faith." I tsked.
"At some point I would have remembered my training and willed myself back to my body."
"I wish I had remembered in the Void. No. Scratch that. I'm glad I traversed the Void. It made me mentally tougher." I consumed the last strawberry on my plate. "Why didn't your spirit guide help you, or your totem animal? I thought all shamans had totem animals."
"They do. And mine did help. He created a cloud in his image so you could find me." She dabbed her mouth with a cloth napkin.
"Oh." I reached for my crystal goblet and took a sip of almond milk. "About New Orleans, I meant take a plane there. Not another shamanic journey."
"I figured. But even if I could afford it, the answer would be no. Besides, you don't need me anymore. Sophia will call or email you. The two of you will get caught up and you'll figure it out from there. Want my advice?"
"Sure."
"Now you know Sophia is alive. So why hasn't she contacted you in three years?"
Hurt knifed my chest. I stood, letting my chair scrape along the imported Italian floor tiles, and carried my plate to the sink. The cheesecake flattened into used cardboard in my stomach. Yemaya had tapped into my secret fear. I wanted her to leave.
Instead, Yemaya followed me to the sink and stood inches from my side while I rinsed my plate. Softening her tone, she said, "I saw how Sophia gazed at you before we were whisked away. She never forgot you. She must have been too afraid to make contact, but why? Figure it out. Otherwise she'll never return."
The tightness in my chest uncoiled. "Makes sense."
The antique clock on the mantle in the family room ticked. I loaded my plate and fork into the dishwasher. Yemaya finished her dessert, then rinsed her plate and passed it to me. I hesitated.
You survived the Void. A few germs won't hurt you. Releasing a breath through my nose, I took her plate and fork and found places for them in the dishwasher. Then I washed my hands and dried them with a fresh paper towel, ignoring the clean cloth towel Mom kept on the counter. "I'll ask Mom to rehire the private investigator or use her legal connections to get an update on Sophia's parents."
"I never fired him," Mom said as she descended the servant stairs. "We kept the PI on retainer. He reports quarterly, unless there is an important development. I just received an email from him."
Yemaya and I exchanged a quick glance. "Has something happened?" I asked.
"Maybe I should go," Yemaya said.
"No. Stay," I said. "I mean, if you want to."
"Ainslie said you've been helping her, so do stay if you'd like."
"Okay. Thanks."
<
br /> We converged around the kitchen table and sat down. Mom placed a purple file folder on the table and splayed her hands, palms down, on either side of it. "Sophia's parents were arrested a few days ago." She slid an email from the folder and studied it. "Authorities busted their meth lab near the border. They've been charged with multiple felonies, including possession with intent to manufacture, sell, and deliver methamphetamine, maintaining a dwelling place for a controlled substance, and possession of a meth precursor. The list goes on and on."
I gaped at her. "Wow."
"Sophia wasn't with them and there was no sign of a child on the premises."
"She's in New Orleans," I said.
Mom's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"
"We saw her during our shamanic journey." I glanced at Yemaya. She nodded in confirmation. "She could see me, too! I'm sure she'll contact me now that she knows I've been searching for her."
Mom's features puckered with concern. "Sweetie, I wouldn't get your hopes up."
"You didn't see the look in her eyes."
Mom frowned down at the purple folder. After a moment she opened it again and pulled out a second printed email. "You sure it was New Orleans?"
"Absolutely. We saw the Café Du Monde, Loyola, and Tulane."
She angled her head. "Your journey took you to the French Quarter and the Garden District?"
"Yes," I said. "And I need to go back for her."
"It may not be safe." Mom pulled another paper from the file — a mug shot of a guy with slicked-back black hair and deep acne scars around his mouth and along his jaw. "Did you see this guy during your spirit flight?"
Yemaya and I glanced at each other before shaking our heads. "Who is he?"
"An associate of Sophia's parents, a higher-up. The DEA has had all of them under observation for some time. He was seen threatening Sophia's parents before he and another lowlife traveled to Louisiana last week."
"Do you think it's a coincidence?" I asked.
Yemaya twisted her amethyst ring. "There are no coincidences."
The blood drained from my face. "Is the Drug Enforcement Agency tracking him?"
"That was the PI's impression. He'll notify me as soon as he learns more. With New Year's almost upon us…" She shrugged. "Be sure and let me know if you hear from Sophia. And if you do hear from her, ask her about this guy." Mom handed me the mug shot, then grimaced. "Sorry to spoil the party."
"You didn't," Yemaya said in a rush.
"I appreciate you telling me," I said.
Mom pushed back her chair and stood. "Well, I'll see you both in the morning."
"Good night, Mom."
"Yes. Good night," Yemaya said.
Mom blew me a kiss, then headed up the servant stairs.
"What scum." Yemaya pushed back her sleeves. "I hope Sophia will be okay."
"Me, too. About New Orleans — I'd pay for your trip. It wouldn't cost you a thing. You could check on Christophe and Shiloh Breaux Martine. Make Bayou happy."
Yemaya fingered the stem of her water goblet. "Thanks, but I can't leave town. I'm sorry. It's because of a family situation."
I tilted my head and studied her. A bad feeling crept over me. Maybe Sophia wasn't the only one with serious parental problems.
Yemaya nodded toward the stairs. "Your mama is pretty cool. She didn't doubt for a sec we'd gone on a spirit flight."
"Christmas with my Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun changed her. A lot."
"The dragon shamans?"
"Yes."
Yemaya pushed her chair back. "You have too much to do tomorrow. So I'm going to take a rain check on the new boots."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. If it rains, I'll use my purple rain boots."
"It's almost New Year's Eve," I fretted. "We can't wait too long, or the best boots will be gone."
"We'll get to the mall before they run out."
"You're still spending the night, right? Wait until you see the guest room!"
She twisted her ring. "You sure? I could sleep on the daybed in your room."
My cheeks warmed. "There is a high probability I'll be up all night with nightmares after everything I saw today and after what Mom just told us. So—"
"I get it." She stood. "Give me the grand tour. And don't forget the media room. We might need to watch a fun movie or something to calm ourselves down. We can keep you laptop open in case Sophia emails you."
I rose, grateful for her understanding. Yemaya had been right. Looks could be deceiving.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sophia
"Wake up!" Bayou shouted.
"Huh?" My eyes flew open. Headlights filled the windshield and the flash of high beams blinded me. A car horn blasted in warning. My heart thundered.
"Take the wheel and pull to the right!"
With a shriek I scooted to the edge of my seat, grabbed the steering wheel, and yanked.
"Not so hard! You'll lose control."
Too late. The hybrid swerved to the right. Breaux, who had been slumped against the driver's side door, slid toward me. His seatbelt locked, pinning him to the seatback. The headlights from the oncoming car angled off as it zoomed past.
"Ease up!"
"How?" I screamed, realizing we were about to die and a ghost was my copilot. I glanced down long enough to see Breaux's ankles crossed and his feet tangled in the pedals. My brain switched to rapid upload. We were on a main road, on a collision course with a well lit, highly flammable gas station.
"Crap!" I jerked the wheel left, overcorrecting. The hybrid fishtailed into the oncoming lane. Breaux's head bobbed. I snatched at the denim above his knee and pulled. His feet remained stuck. "Breaux! Help me!"
He woke with a snort. His eyes bugged. "Holy—!" He clutched the steering wheel. I moved out of the way and braced against the dashboard as he steered into the swerve, maneuvering the car back into the correct lane. Ahead, the traffic light changed from green to yellow. Breaux fought to free his feet. His knees jerked at odd angles and he called out to Saint Christopher and Mother Mary. The light advanced to red. I scanned the intersection for other cars and reinforced the protection spell around the car.
"Sit back!" Breaux ordered.
"Don't yell!" I scooted backward until I rested against the seatback. The seatbelt, which had been fully extended, retracted.
"Everyone chill!" Bayou fretted.
Breaux disentangled his feet and stepped on the brake. His right arm shot across me, protecting me until the seatbelt locked and pinned me against the seat. We skidded through the empty intersection, through the red light, and came to a halt in the middle of the road. Breaux blinked a couple of times and continued gripping the steering wheel with both hands. "You okay?"
I hugged my ribs and inhaled the stench of burnt rubber and swamp water. "I will be as soon as my heart slows down."
"You and me both."
"You two are going to be the second death of me." Bayou fanned her face with her hand, spraying swamp water. "I'm going to book now. Bye." She vanished before I could thank her.
"We better get out of the street." Breaux glanced over his shoulder, then pulled into a parking space on the side of the road and cut the engine. He stared at me wild-eyed, his chest heaving. Then he crossed his arms over the steering wheel and squashed his forehead against his arm. "Ouch." His head jerked up and he fingered his forgotten head wound.
I blinked back tears. "I thought you were dead. When you wouldn't wake up…"
"I'm so sorry." He unbuckled his seatbelt and wiped away my tear with his thumb.
I clasped his arm. "No. I'm sorry. This whole thing has been my fault."
He cradled my face and shook his head. Then the corners of his lips curved upward. "Longest day ever."
Verging on hysteria, I giggled. "Fastest decade ever."
"I hope we're back in our own time." He released me and slumped in his seat. "When we get safely back to Maman's house, I'm going to sleep for a decade."
&nb
sp; "Seriously." I stared out the windshield at the few cars parked along the street. I'll allow myself to stay at Miss Wanda's for a day, maybe two. Long enough to tell her about Mam'zelle, call Ainslie, and say goodbye to Breaux. I'd figure out the rest after I got some sleep.
Breaux twisted on the seat and faced me. "I wonder why I lost most of my clairvoyance after we time travelled."
"Maybe because of—" I pointed to his bloody head wound. "I'll catch you up on what you missed. But first I require food and a bathroom, and not necessarily in that order." I pointed up the street to an illuminated yellow sign with red lettering. "There's the all-night diner."
"Thank the saints." He hefted the car keys in his hand. "We're walking."
"No kidding." I reached for my seatbelt buckle.
Breaux clasped my wrist. "I… " He shook his head.
I pressed my fingers to his lips, then hugged him. "Ow." I retreated, clutching my ribs.
"We're a mess. Think we can hobble to the restaurant?" Breaux asked.
"We either head there or crawl to the nearest hospital."
"Food first," Breaux insisted.
****
The nearly empty diner smelled of eggs and fried meat. One whiff and my empty stomach yowled like a feral cat. A middle-aged African-American waitress greeted us at the door. "Howdy y'all. Just two tonight?"
"Yes, please," we said.
"Table or booth?"
Breaux shrugged and hunched his shoulders as though he were too dazed to decide.
"Booth." I figured Breaux could nap on the bench seat while we waited for our food.
She frowned at Breaux's bloody bandana and led us to a back booth where I guess she figured we wouldn't scare or nauseate the other four customers. "My name is Bernita. I'll give you two a moment," she said before leaving.
"I want everything on here," Breaux said, examining the plastic menu.
"Me, too." I pulled out the twenty-dollar bill and examined it under the bright light. It appeared legit. For a sec I had worried it would be like fairy gold and turn into leaves or something.
"I still have some money," Breaux said, counting out seventeen dollars in fives and ones.
When Bernita returned, he ordered the fried steak and eggs skillet from the value menu and an iced tea.