Panama X saw it all and it crushed and confounded him. The prisoners were supposed to pour out into the open, but no one moved. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. This was his legion. If he didn’t do something, his liberation army was going to drown in their cells.
Summoning every ounce of concentration, Panama X focused on re-manifesting his flesh. His efforts required a target. He hurled his essence into the prison camp and pinpointed a drowning inmate. The impact of their collision jettisoned water from the dying man’s lungs.
Many loa had ridden Panama X over the years. He was accustomed to the lightning bolt of amnesia that struck upon the loa’s arrival. Now he knew how the other side felt.
At first, he had the immediate sensation of weight. It seemed like a billion small anchors tethered every molecule of his being to the earth. Raw electricity burst from the body’s nerves in unison, as if to reject the foreign presence. To make room for the invader, the inmate’s soul was rapidly squeezed out. Panama X could feel the man holding on for dear life. At last, the inmate let go; Panama X felt like he was rushing through a pitch black cave toward a tiny pinprick of light.
Panama X was aware of a paralyzing fear as he awoke. He opened his eyes underwater and saw a giant anaconda within striking distance. Gasping, he allowed more deadly floodwater into his fragile new system. While choking, he saw the snake dim and then dissipate altogether—a mirage.
With renewed focus, he burst through the water, finding a small pocket of air near the ceiling. He sucked in precious oxygen until his chest burned. There was an immense psychic force at work here. It was familiar to him. He hadn’t experienced anything like this since...
“Jhonnette Deveaux told me your plans.”
That was it. Desiree Deveaux’s daughter was here somewhere. He had a feeling Jhonnette was deeply involved in everything that was happening. She’d manipulated Randy, and Panama X suspected she’d gotten to Amir as well. And why? To get to him—her father.
Why didn’t you tell me, Desiree?
Panama X had to shut her down. But first, he would save as many men as he could.
* * * * *
“Jhonnette, listen to me. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. Do you hear me? This isn’t real.” Moses tried to maintain his calm but the water was now up to his chest. He was seeing things, too. The top of a human head had just emerged before him in the water. As the head rolled back, Moses found himself staring at Walter Simmons’ corpse face.
“You really let me down, Moses,” the head gurgled.
“Jhonnette, get down off the bunk!” Moses yelled. “One foot at a time. Close your eyes if you need to.” Moses decided to take his own advice, but could still hear Walter talking.
“You just let Malcolm walk out with my wife,” Walter said. “You let them go. Why did you do that?”
Jhonnette was now in the water, pulling him out of the wheelchair.
“Running away again?” Walter’s head asked.
Jhonnette was trembling, sobbing, and muttering “Oh, God” over and over again. Moses couldn’t imagine what horrors she was witnessing. If it was anything like Walter’s charred death mask, then God help them both.
Moses had a flash of insight. He grasped Jhonnette’s hand and yelled, “Jhonnette! Pray!”
Walter’s head was relentless. “Look what happened to my face!”
Moses prayed out loud as Jhonnette wailed into his ear. The combined noise finally drowned out Walter’s voice. Jhonnette pushed Moses out of the cell into the corridor. “Keep moving, Jhonnette!” Moses shouted. “No matter what you see or hear!”
That was easier said than done. All around them, men shrieked like pigs in a slaughterhouse because of the visions the water carried. They were standing on their bunks as Jhonnette had been, screaming as their ghosts laughed. All the cell doors were open but only he and Jhonnette were moving. As they approached the exit, he wondered how high the water was outside.
Jhonnette lost her footing and went under. Moses reached for her in the murky water and pulled her back to the surface. Her face was a mask of terror. Moses shook her but got no response. Her mind was gone.
Water rolled into his nostrils. He snorted it out. Moses knew he couldn’t support the two of them, but refused to let go.
There’s got to be some sort of roof access in here. Check the walls.
Most of the buildings in the prison were one story. Moses had read that after the last time the levees broke, they’d installed roof hatches for moments like this. But he didn’t see anything.
Wait. There was a roof hatch a few feet away. How was he supposed to pull them both out of here?
Jhonnette was pulled from his grasp as he considered this. A voice said, “So you’re the one causing all this trouble?”
Moses turned his head and laid eyes on a middle-aged, dark-skinned black man. “Who are you?”
The man stared back at Moses. “The universe works in mysterious ways, indeed. Looks like this time I get to save you, Tabs.”
* * * * *
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Lake City, LA
Brandon and Karen emerged from the rain into a grand entry hall. Brandon stared in awe at the spiral staircase leading up to the second story and the large ornate carpets in the two front rooms that looked like they came out of a history book.
The ceiling hovered some thirty feet above them. White columns separated the entry foyer from the front hallway. A beautiful crystal chandelier dangled overhead. Everything smelled faintly of pine and cedar.
“Where…where are we?” Brandon stammered.
Karen led him into the great room. They were not alone. A slim, but muscular, fair-skinned black man sat on an archaic couch beside a beautiful, dark-haired, white woman. Their clothes were straight out of the colonial period. The black man reminded Brandon of Lincoln. They had the same eyes.
“Welcome home, Karen,” the woman spoke. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Karen moved toward the couch. Brandon had a strong feeling that something bad was going to happen when she got to them. Propelled by the urge to protect her, Brandon darted forward and blocked Karen’s path.
Karen tossed him aside like an empty pillowcase. He hit the wall and crumpled to the floor, helpless.
“It’s time, Karen,” the woman coaxed. “Time for you to join us.”
Karen stopped before them.
The man stood and opened his arms as if to embrace her, but then he recoiled. “You!” he yelled.
Karen’s head tilted slightly, and she replied in that guttural voice, “You…can’t…have…her.”
The woman jumped up and stood toe-to-toe with Karen. “She is rightfully ours!”
Karen grabbed the woman by the throat and flung her across the room. Then she raised her hand as the man prepared to engage her. “Isaac. Others…are…coming.”
“It’s too late, Kristopher. We have chosen. Release her to us. Release this body, baka.”
Isaac? Kristopher?
As strange as it seemed, it finally made sense. Brandon didn’t have a clue who Isaac was, but Karen was clearly possessed by her dead brother. He was speaking through her like a bad ventriloquist.
What the hell am I thinking? That’s impossible.
As Brandon got to his feet, Karen pointed at him. “Lincoln…will…come…for him. Make…them…choose.”
Choose what?
For the first time Isaac marked Brandon’s presence. Brandon did not enjoy having those bloodshot eyes looking at him.
Thankfully, Isaac turned his attention back to Karen and said, “And if they choose incorrectly?”
“Either way…you win.”
The woman was back on her feet. Isaac looked at her for confirmation. She nodded her assent.
“Alright, then, we will conduct the reckoning in the old style, Kristopher. This time.” As Isaac spoke, the house began to change. He and the woman began to fade as well.
In a matter of seconds, Brandon watched t
he interior of the house turn from an antebellum plantation to a modern mansion. The orange glow dissipated, leaving him in the dark. Shadowy darkness replaced the waning afternoon light as rain and wind swirled about the house.
“Brandon?” a weak female voice called out.
“Karen!” he cried. Relief coursed his body. “Are you okay?”
“I…can’t move.”
Brandon helped her onto the sofa. He tried to switch on the lamp but the power was out. “Karen, you have to tell me what’s happening here.”
Tears sprang from their deep, dark wells and streaked down Karen’s face. “He said the curse wasn’t real. He lied to me.”
“Who lied? Kristopher? What’s this curse?”
“Kristopher went to see Abby the night before he died, but he lied to me about what she said.”
“Who the hell is Abby?”
“They talked about the spirit world. Curses, voodoo, ghosts…God. Our belief makes them possible.”
Brandon was confused. “Then why do they say that voodoo can affect you even if you don’t believe in it?”
Karen wiped her tears away. “My family has fed into this curse from the very beginning. We have made so many sacrifices to Isaac and Melinda, each time hoping it would be the last time. But now I know, as long as we stay here, the curse will come back to haunt our children, and our children’s children. Somebody has to pay for Isaac, Melinda, and their unborn child. Kristopher paid that price…”
“Then why don’t you just leave?” Brandon asked.
“One of our ancestors tried that, and it actually worked for a while,” Karen continued. “But they are so patient. They waited. Then our grandfather was born. They whispered to him as a child and he came back home. There’s no escape. The only way is to give them an offering they can’t refuse.”
This was the craziest story Brandon had ever heard. Still, he believed her. He’d seen the ghosts with his own eyes. How could he doubt that?
Karen grabbed his shirt and pulled him down on top of her. “Quiet. Someone’s here.”
“Who’s coming, Karen?” he whispered. “How can we stop them? How can we end this?”
“You can’t,” a gravelly baritone spoke from behind them.
Karen and Brandon looked up to see a tall man with a pointy white hood over his face glaring down at them. He removed the hood slowly with one hand; a strange gun was clutched in the other.
Karen gasped. The man’s face was a grotesque mask of blood and charred flesh, but Brandon still knew him.
Randy Lafitte offered a grime-filled smile and regarded them with bloodshot eyes. “Daddy’s home.”
* * * * *
Chapter Eighty
I-10 West
Coral opened her eyes in time to catch a green sign announcing the arrival of Iowa, LA in one-fourth miles. Lying horizontal in the backseat, she stared at the bald head of her driver. There was a whistling sound outside of the car she recognized as wind, though she’d never heard any wind sound like this before.
Adjusting her body into a more comfortable position, she noticed Lincoln Baker’s eyes watching her through the rearview mirror. She’d seen him staring at her the same way in more nightmares than she could count, although this was the closest she’d physically been to her son’s killer. Now, with only inches separating them, Coral didn’t feel how she thought she would. For one, there was no hate. Strangely, she felt…gratitude. Besides, hadn’t Snake Roberts confessed to the crime? The car was pushed violently across lanes and Coral realized they had much bigger things to worry about than hate and forgiveness.
* * * * *
Almost home.
Lincoln exhaled as they passed the Iowa exit. He couldn’t stop thinking about Brandon. If he was stuck in the police station during the hurricane… Lincoln shut down this train of thought. He tried the radio again, but no news. All of Southwest Louisiana was deserted.
Coral’s up.
Lincoln caught her movements in the rearview. Their eyes met. Then without warning, the wind whipped under the Jeep and lifted it off the highway for an eternal second.
Shit!
This storm was no joke. If they didn’t find shelter soon, the Jeep was going to take flight.
“Where are you taking me?” Coral croaked suddenly.
“Home.”
Coral nodded.
He wondered if she felt it too, the magnetic force that seemed to be pulling them back to Lake City. He was definitely on a mission—after he dropped Coral off he needed to locate Brandon and get him to higher ground. Thankfully, Moses’ house was in one of the only sections of town high enough above sea level to withstand the inevitable flooding.
As Moses was fond of saying, “If we’re flooded over here, the rest of Lake City is underwater.”
Thinking of Moses, Lincoln had an attack of conscience. For the first time in his life, he felt the urge to confess and make amends. Lincoln knew this woman would never understand why he’d done what he’d done, but he felt compelled to try. He didn’t know if he’d have another chance.
“Look,” he started. “Did you know those men back there?”
Coral raised an eyebrow. “They work for my husband. Or at least they did. They kidnapped me.”
“I know. I saw the whole thing.”
“You were there?” Coral asked.
“Yes.” Lincoln cleared his throat. “Mrs. Lafitte, how well do you know your husband?”
Coral fidgeted, clearly offended by the question.
“I mean…do you have any idea what he’s capable of?”
Coral stared out the window, ignoring the question.
“Does the name Walter Simmons mean anything to you?” Lincoln pressed.
“Well, of course. He ran against Randy and won the election for Mayor.”
“And then he was killed.”
“Yes,” she said. “It was a horrible accident.”
“Was it?”
“What are you saying?” Coral asked, her skepticism and mistrust slowly subsiding
“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’. Just layin’ out some facts. Tryin’ to make sense of what she told me.”
“She, who?”
“This woman, Jhonnette Deveaux. Claimed to be some kind of psychic.”
“And you believed her?”
Lincoln looked away. “I’ve been seeing some crazy stuff today. Stuff that makes me want to believe her.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Well for one, I’ve been seeing your son, Kris. Everywhere. He’s been talkin’ to me. Showin’ me things.”
Coral looked away as a tear ran down her face.
“You too? I guess that makes some kinda sense.” Lincoln lost his train of thought as something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A huge billboard was skimming down I-10, directly toward them. He maneuvered out of the way, just in time to watch the sign roll down the highway like a giant tumbleweed.
They both exhaled in relief. Silence wedged between them once more.
“I was going to kill you,” Coral spoke up abruptly.
“What?”
“This morning. I went to that hospital where they took you after you got out. But you weren’t there. Instead, I found Snake Roberts.”
So that’s what happened.
Lincoln had wondered what went down after he and Jhonnette split.
“He got the bullets I’d reserved for you,” she sighed. “Right after he basically told me my husband had ordered him…ordered him to kill…our son.” Coral’s lips quivered as she got the words out. Tears gushed from her eyes. “And then you come and save my life. I don’t know what to think about anything anymore.”
Lincoln considered this near miss as he put his eyes back on the road.
So Randy ordered Snake to kill Kris.
Lincoln rubbed his shoulder on the site of the wound he’d received right before he accidentally shot Kris.
“Gotta put it all together,” Lincoln whispered.
&nbs
p; “So what else did this psychic tell you?” Coral asked.
This was so crazy Lincoln had to smile. “This is gonna sound nuts, but what the hell, here goes. Supposedly, your husband…is my father.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it?” Lincoln probed. “I mean here we are talkin’ about a man who may or may not have killed his political rival and may or may not have ordered the killing of his own son. Think about it. Cheatin’ on his wife wouldn’t be that far a stretch for a guy like that.”
“I don’t want to hear any more of this.” Coral said, looking away.
Through the rain-blurred window, Lincoln observed the demise of Lake City as he navigated them slowly over downed power lines and around assorted tree parts lying scattered all over the highway.
“Turn off here,” Coral directed as they arrived at the Lake Street exit.
They drove to the Lafitte homestead in silence. At last, they pulled into an empty driveway in front of an enormous home.
“Looks like nobody’s home,” Lincoln said. “You sure you want to go in there?”
* * * * *
This close to the lake, Coral could really feel the hurricane’s fury. The Jeep rocked from side-to-side. The rain and wind battered all scenery. Coral tried to calm the panic uprising underneath her skin. No, she did not want to go in there. She had a bad feeling she was going to find corpses of her family in the foyer.
Lincoln must have sensed her hesitation because he said, “Look, if you want, I can go in with you and check everything out.”
Coral looked back at Lincoln and thought about everything he’d said. If he was right, she’d been living with a stranger. A monster. She didn’t want to be alone right now, but she also didn’t want Lincoln in her house. Conflicted, she replied, “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that.”
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