Dark Redemption

by Angie Sandro

  Oh God, Reverend Prince will kill Landry. And if my father has a paternal bone in his body, my boyfriend’s DOA. The only thing I can hope is that the man really doesn’t give a lick about me.

  Chapter 28

  Landry

  Who Must Be Destroyed

  Deputy Dawg strikes again. George chases after Mala when she races from the room, leaving me surrounded by our shocked family. If he’d stayed within punching distance, I would’ve laid his ass out. Stupid bastard can’t keep his mouth shut. Tension flares. All everyone needs are pitchforks to stab in my direction and the image of the old-fashion peasant mob will be complete. Unfortunately, I am He Who Must Be Destroyed in this scenario.

  I back up, waving my hands. “She’s not pregnant!” I shout, trying to be heard, but they’re all screeching like pissed-off blue jays.

  Dad and Mala’s father are arguing. Ms. March wears a dazed, happy expression and rocks on her heels singing “Happy birthday to me.” Bessie runs a hand down her hip and comes up empty since she left her gun at home. Ferdinand just wears a smug smile like he instigated the whole thing and is enjoying the chaos. None of them are paying attention to me so I edge toward the door.

  Dad grabs my shoulders, fingers gripping on like a vice, and I’m stopped short. “How did this happen?”

  My mouth opens, but Ms. March elbows him. “The same way you and Theresa made your children. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten too old to remember how pleasurable S-E-X is at that age? It’s still pretty good at fifty with the right partner.” She laughs at the shock on Dad’s face, and then she turns to me. “Have you decided on a wedding date yet?”

  “We’re not getting married right now.”

  Mr. Dubois steps forward. “The hell you’re not, if you got my daughter pregnant.”

  Well crap, now he decides to be a parent. “It’s not that I don’t want to marry your daughter; it’s that she wants to wait until she’s finished with college.” His mouth opens like he wants to argue, but I cut him off. “Here’s an unsolicited piece of advice to help you survive the father-daughter bonding process. As someone who loves your daughter, even her flaws, know this: Mala LaCroix doesn’t take orders well. Neither do I,” I say, addressing this last bit to Dad. Not that he’s paying attention.

  I love him. I respect his beliefs, but I don’t share all of them. And I’m damn tired of sneaking off to the shed to be with my girl. The only good thing about this mess is that Dad’s forced to admit he knows Mala and I are sexually intimate. He’ll have to accept it.

  “Reverend Shane, get over here,” Dad yells, waving at the young preacher who took over his church. “We’ll perform the wedding ceremony right now. Why wait? Obviously the kids didn’t. If they want to act like adults, then they need to face the consequences as adults.”

  I can’t handle this anymore. I leap onto the sofa and raise my hands into the air. “Quiet! Everyone listen. I have an announcement. Malaise Jean Marie LaCroix is not pregnant. I repeat. Not. Pregnant.”

  Silence follows. Damn, I should’ve done that ten minutes ago instead of trying to ride it out. ’Cause that didn’t work. Mob mentality’s no joke.

  Bessie scowls. “Then why was George asking if the baby was all right? He thought she was pregnant. I don’t see him lying.”

  My ears heat. “We had a scare. That’s all. The OBGYN confirmed that we’re not pregnant.” I raise my hand. “Promise.”

  My gaze goes to Ferdinand. He doesn’t seem surprised even though he was one of the first to congratulate me on the pregnancy. What did Magnolia do to us?

  The lights in the crystal chandelier over the dining room table flicker. A loud crack shakes the walls, and sparks light up the room. I jump from the sofa, ducking. Ms. March shrieks and wilts against my side. In the silence that follows, thumps trailed by heavy footsteps come from the direction of the front door.

  Ms. March pushes off my shoulder and fluffs her hair. “I’m so sorry, Landry. That startled me.”

  “It’s okay…” I trail off. The thumps continue their slow progress. Dread grows within me with each step. The air feels heavy, steamy. It’s hard to breath. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up. But it’s not just body hair. The hair on everyone’s head rises until the strands float in the static-laden air.

  Isabel points to George’s mother’s hair and laughs. “This is so weird.”

  Ms. March runs her hand over her brother’s head. “I knew I should’ve had balloons for the party.”

  Nothing about this seems funny. Dad doesn’t think so either. He senses that something’s off too. The pressure in the room grows another level. The steady beats pause outside the door, and a shadow falls across the threshold. The lights in the chandelier flicker again, then another bursts.

  Ferdinand stares from me to Bessie. “Get down,” he yells, then grabs her and drags her behind the high-backed sofa. “Earthquake. Everyone take cover.”

  The walls begin to shake, and the floor bows upward like a tidal wave is rolling the foundation. A heavy-framed picture crashes to the ground, almost hitting Isabel. She screams and throws her arms around Mrs. Dubois. They crouch down with their arms over their head. The crash and tinkle of breaking glass turns me around in time to see the champagne fountain spill over the side of the table in an amber waterfall. Another tremor rocks the table, but it doesn’t topple. Buffet trays filled with food crash to the floor.

  It’s one hell of an earthquake, but it’s not natural. I don’t know what’s going on but Ferdinand does. He called out the warning and dove for cover before the house started rocking. I grab Ms. March and Mr. Dubois by the arms and shove them down, shouting, “Get under the table.”

  We’ll be protected from falling debris under there. Dad has George’s mom and Isabel crawling in the right direction. Part of me wants to search for Mala, but the floor rocks again. I have to trust that she’s found cover. If I don’t and I leave the safety of the table, I’ll be as big of a fool as some of the guests who are still standing around like walking targets. Maybe they can’t comprehend they’re in danger, but I do. It’s totally natural selection in action.

  A final thump from the hall. The tremor stops. And as if we’re all controlled by a hive mind-set, we pause whatever it is we’re doing and turn toward the door.

  Magnolia LaCroix enters the room with a bang. All of the remaining lightbulbs in the crystal chandelier overhead explode. Those people still on their feet raise their arms over their heads and drop to avoid the falling glass and sparks. The pressure in the room shifts, the house inhales, and the windows implode. Shards of glass fly into the room.

  Reverend Shane pulls his wife into his arms and turns his back to the balcony door. A spear of glass stabs him between his shoulder blades. Blood shoots from his mouth, drenching his wife’s face. Molly screams, trying to hold him upright, but he’s too heavy. He collapses on top of her, protecting her as more slivers of glass fall across his back. An old woman already lies on the ground. Her hand clutches her heart as she stares sightlessly at the ceiling.

  Magnolia ignores the chaos. She holds onto Etienne’s arm as he leads her over to a leather chair, brushes the glass off, and helps ease her into it. The old woman fits in that seat. With her silver braid wrapped around her head the way Princess Leia’s was in The Empire Strikes Back, she appears every inch the queen.

  Then she waves her cane like it’s a magic staff.

  Candlewicks in the sconces on the walls flicker and light, filling the blood-splattered room with a golden glow. “Someone shut that woman up before I rip out her tongue,” Magnolia snaps, pointing to Molly as she keens from beneath her husband’s body.

  Ms. March sticks her head from beneath the table after a quick glance at the ceiling. “Who are you? Why are you in my home?”

  “Ah, the birthday girl.” Magnolia claps her hands. “Gift.”

  Etienne pulls a velvet-wrapped box from his pocket and holds it out to Ms. March, who crawls from safety, ignoring my w
hispered plea to stop. Her gaze shifts from the gift to the destruction all around her.

  Etienne doesn’t react to Ms. March’s refusal of the gift. He just stands there holding it out to her. His filmy, dead-eyed gaze tracks her as she moves closer to Magnolia.

  “Do I know you?” Ms. March asks.

  Magnolia gives her a black-gummed smile. “I’ve been planning for this night for a long time. It’s the perfect time for Mala’s maternal side of the family to meet her father’s.” She cranes her long neck. “Speaking of, where is he?”

  “If you’re looking for me, I’m right here.” I crawl from beneath the table.

  Magnolia’s eyes narrow. “Not you. Mala’s father.” Her hand sweeps out like she’s swatting a mosquito. The gust of air she created picks me up and hurls me against the wall. My head cracks the plaster and I fall, bouncing off the sofa to roll onto the floor. Dazed, I lay for a minute, unable to move.

  Then I hear Dad screaming, and I push up on my knees.

  He lies at Magnolia’s feet like he rushed her. She’s got him doubled over with his knees curled into his chest. The pain in his shrieks stabs into my core. Ms. March kneels on the ground with her hands covering her ears as she rocks back and forth. Tears run down her cheeks. “This isn’t happening,” she chants. “It’s not happening.”

  “Leave him alone, Magnolia.” Blood drips from a cut on my forehead, rolling down my face to soak into my patch. At least the cut isn’t on the other side, or I wouldn’t be able to see. “Why, Magnolia? Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you got in my way. I spared your life for a reason, but instead of being grateful, you interfered and ruined my spell at the hospital. Now I’ve run out of time and must do this the hard way. Luckily I planned ahead. Ferdinand, Etienne,” she calls, “bring me Mala’s father. And while you’re at it, one of you go find my niece. I need her to complete the spell. I’m tired and ready to rest this weary body.”

  Body swapping. It’s not just something out of a movie or a book. “You won’t find her here. She got embarrassed and probably snuck out the back door and is halfway home by now. Isn’t that right, Ferdi?”

  Ferdinand jerks Bessie up from behind the sofa. She struggles in his grasp, but even with all of her muscles, she can’t break free. “That’s likely, given her personality.”

  Magnolia’s eyes narrow. “You’d better hope not, or I’ll have to start killing members of her family until she returns. I’ll start with the least significant and work up. Etienne…”

  The zombie drone reaches for Ms. March, but she slashes his hand with a piece of glass. My eye widens as she leaps to her feet, full of fire and brimstone. “How dare you come into my house and threaten my family?” she cries, slashing at Etienne when he grabs for her again. Thick black liquid like tar oozes from the gash, but he doesn’t utter a sound.

  On the other hand, she’s sobbing. Red blood mixes with black on the tip of the glass. She’s shredding her hands. She lunges for Etienne and trips. He grabs her arm, pulling her upright. Still defiant, Ms. March yells, “Mala’s my niece! I’ll never give her up! I don’t care what you do to me.”

  Magnolia’s head tips in a slight bow. “Bold words. I like you. Etienne, make it quick so she doesn’t suffer. Snap her scrawny neck.”

  Chapter 29

  Mala

  Choices

  Thank God there isn’t a line for the upstairs bathroom. I go in and lock the door. My stomach rumbles, and I barely make it onto the toilet in time. After I finish, I send a generous spritz of air freshener through the room before I move to the sink to wash my hands. The face reflected in the mirror is painted with my distress. My eye makeup has migrated in dark lines down my cheeks. I look like the love child of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, only neither of those is genetically compatible even if they did have the reproductive organs to produce me.

  Ah, hell…I sniff, but the tears won’t listen and stay in my swollen eyes.

  I bury my face in my hands, planning my escape from the house. It’ll be down the back stairs leading to the kitchen. I’ll send one of the staff for Landry. I can’t go back to the party. I won’t.

  I throw open the door and lunge forward. My face smashes into a hard chest. Pain flares from my nose up through my eye sockets. Hands grip my elbows, and I stumble back to look up through my tears into a pair of green eyes.

  “What the hell, Mala?”

  I blink, trying to see through my blurry vision. “Georgie? I couldn’t see—”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I was until you humiliated me by spilling my business in front of everyone downstairs. And for the record, I’m not pregnant. The doctor confirmed it. So…you know, there’s that misunderstanding to fix with our parents.”

  He has the good sense to look contrite. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. That makes me feel so much better,” I drawl, shoving past him and stalking toward the staircase. The rev’s shout for Reverend Shane filters up from below, and I freeze. The word “ceremony” floats like a balloon before my eyes and then bursts.

  I throw a panicked look at my brother. “Oh crap, George. Look what you’ve done. Landry and I are going to be forced into a shotgun wedding.”

  “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my hand.

  We sprint for the staircase that ends in the kitchen. The catering staff barely glances in our direction. Now that my stomach’s not revolting, I’m starving. I snatch a crème puff off a tray on the way out the door. If I’ve got to leave, at least I won’t do it on an empty stomach.

  Once we reach the garden, George pulls out his keychain and flicks on a thumb-size flashlight. He points toward the path winding through the rosebush maze. “They won’t find us in there.”

  I wish I could’ve told Landry what I was planning before coming outside. He’ll be worried. And I left my phone in my jacket, which is in the coat closet. Yeah, bad planning all around.

  I sense a spirit hovering just out of sight. The air has a strange ozone scent. Invisible fingers brush against the shield trying to get in. I’ve been to this house hundreds of times when I helped Aunt March with her rose garden, but I’ve never seen a hint of a ghost before. Granted, I’ve only visited twice since inheriting my powers.

  “For some reason the spirits have been upset today,” I say, shivering as goose bumps rise on my arms.

  George takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. “Do you know why?”

  “No, I haven’t asked.”

  He flicks the flashlight up, blinding me. “What if they’re trying to communicate something important to you?”

  He might be right. I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath, then slowly release it. The image of the shield forms clearly in my head. The imaginary bricks are chipped, and in some areas, broken. My subconscious must’ve been fielding the psychic attacks, but it’s obvious that I’m losing the battle. A brick wiggles free as I watch, and immediately my senses sharpen. The scent of roses fills my nose. Sweet but also decaying.

  Fear rushes through my body. “They’re breaking through my shield.”

  George steps closer, bringing with him the starchy scent of his ironing spray. A cricket chirps to my right. “Let them in, Mala. Find out what they want. Then maybe they’ll leave you alone.”

  “It’s not that simple. They’re so angry.” Voices whisper in my ear—too muffled to understand what the spirits are saying. Then the second brick falls. The warning comes loud and clear. Danger.

  I need to hear more. “What danger?” I cry out. “Where?”

  She’s coming.

  “Get away from her!” a voice shouts, and I spin to see Sophia running down the path. Her hair trails over her shoulder. She’s dirty. There are ragged holes in her long, flowing, mud-stained white skirt. She doesn’t stop when she reaches me, just grabs my hand as she runs past. I have no choice but to follow her through the twists and turns of the maze. “Hurry, run. It’s almost too la
te.”

  “What’s going on?” I yell.

  She slams to a stop at the edge of garden and then whirls around, grabbing for me. But she doesn’t move fast enough. It’s like I run face-first into a sliding-glass window. I bounce off the invisible shield and land on my ass. The shock coursing through my body doesn’t fade quickly, reminding me of the time I played with George’s Taser.

  And I think my nose is bleeding.

  George slides to a stop in front of me. “What the hell? Are you okay?”

  I nod, holding my arms out. “I got zapped. Help me up.”

  He lifts me to my feet, and I wobble like a bobblehead doll. I hold out my hand. Sparks shoot off my finger when they hit the shield separating the garden from the wider yard. “Is this some kind of force field, Sophia?”

  “Damn it,” Sophia says, looking around as if expecting someone to pop out any minute. Which sets me on high alert. “We’re too late. Magnolia invoked a boundary spell around this place. It’s the accumulation of months of planning.”

  “To keep who or what out or in?” I ask.

  “To keep us in.”

  George reaches out, zaps himself, and pops his fingertips in his mouth. “I guess it works on everyone, not just Mala.”

  Sophia’s eye roll reveals more terror than contempt. It’s obvious that she’s barely holding her panic in check. “Did you drink the potion?”

  “Uh, no. I left it in my jacket.” I point toward the house. The lights inside are flickering on and off.

  “Why?” she cries. “You’re such a fool.”

  “If I drank it, I wouldn’t be connected to the murderer on the other side anymore. I need that connection to figure out what he’s up to.”

  “This spell…this is what he was up to. Gathering enough innocent souls to power this boundary spell. This mansion is the nexus of four magic points where the veil between this world and the other side is thinner. You fell right into his trap.”