Love, Lattes and Angel

by Sandra Cox

  “Step aside, white boy.”

  “Get. Lost.” I push out through clenched teeth. My jaws refuse to open.

  “You think you are a match for Jon-Jo, the houngan of the Turks?” His voice slides through and around me and tightens like the snake whose head is moving back and forth, his hypnotic eyes fixed on me much like his master’s. My chest is in a vice, growing tighter and tighter. The sidewalk continues to whirl in a dizzying spiral beneath my feet, leaving me nauseous and ill. It’s an agony to keep my shoulders straight and my gaze locked with the houngan.

  It’s an illusion. I repeat it like a mantra. Cold beads of sweat pop out on my forehead. I grow large and then I shrink.

  “You’re...blocking the sidewalk…pal.” Each word sends a jolt of pain cracking through my brain and twisting my stomach. The snake is sliding down his arm and reaching his head toward me. I know whatever’s going on in my psyche is smoke and mirrors, but that damn snake is real and it would take a machete to pry the thing off me before it squeezed me to death.

  “You heard him. Back off.” Tyler steps up beside me. I’ve never admired him more. I know what he’s going to be up against once that intense black-eyed gaze is turned on him.

  Before that can happen, Molita steps forward. “Go away, houngan. These people and the chicken are under my protection.”

  The man’s massive head, along with the snake’s, swings toward Molita. The vise around my chest loosens. I stagger and gasp for air.

  “This isn’t your island, mambo. This is mine. And I want the chicken, maybe the little girl as well.” He grins nastily.

  I bunch my fists and move forward. Snake or no snake I’m going to wipe that smile right off his face. “Nobody messes with my daughter. Bring it on, snakeman.”

  I snatch my switch blade out of my pocket and click it open, relieved I’d grabbed it before we left. The knife is specially made for the ocean, two inches longer than average and an inch wider. I make a point not to look in the houngan’s eyes. That was my mistake before. Instead I concentrate on the snake, while flexing my knees and tossing the knife from one hand to the other. My stomach muscles cramp and roll, but I refuse to give in to my fear of serpents. My daughter is at stake. Beside me, Tyler stiffens. “Don’t look in his eyes.”

  “Thanks.” Tyler also pulls a knife. It’s smaller than mine, but it’s protection.

  “Looks like we’re going to have some snake steaks,” I drawl.

  Molita’s shoulders straighten and she steps forward. She appears to grow in stature. “Leave us, Jon-Jo.”

  “You really think you can threaten me, mambo?”

  “I think it’s your pet that is being threatened. Are you willing to risk it?”

  He recoils the snake. “Another time. And there will be another time.” He backs up slowly then looks at Angel. “Simba will have your chicken and I will turn you into a zombie, little girl.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” My daughter’s voice comes out strong and sure. Pride surges through me.

  “You should be. You should be very afraid.” He turns his back on us and stamps angrily away. His body is so massive and his steps so heavy, if the sidewalk were wooden it would be shaking under his feet.

  I wipe my forehead and slip the knife into my pocket. Tyler does the same. We look at each other and nod. I turn to Piper and scoop up Angel and Clara. “Want to finish that cake now?”

  “No. I want to take Clara home. He plans on coming after her…and me.” Her normally cheerful features are drawn and pale, her skin cold to the touch.

  “No one is getting you or Clara, baby girl. I promise you.” I keep my voice even, though heat is flooding my body and my muscles are coiling like springs.

  Her arms slide around my neck and she places her cheek against mine. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, Angel baby.”

  Finally, I turn my attention to Piper. My gut wrenches. She’s trembling like a leaf, whiter if possible than Angel. Tyler, whose attention has been fixed on the departing figure of Jon-Jo and his snake, scoops Piper into his arms. She stands there a moment then steps back and holds out her hands for Angel.

  Angel goes to her and Piper holds her tight, rocking her back and forth, her lips pressed against the soft down of hair.

  “Looks like the party’s over.” Gramps turns to Mina. “Maybe you and Miss Molita could tell us about this Jon-Jo fellow on the way back.”

  “Yes, of course,” Molita replies before her attention turns to Angel. “As soon as we return, you and I will make gris-gris bags for Clara and your family.”

  Angel raises her head from Piper’s shoulder. “And that will protect them from the houngan? He’s a bad man.”

  “Yes to both. We will make spell bags specifically to protect your family against him. And we will add ingredients and say the words over your bag as well.”

  For the first time since she’s seen the boa, Angel smiles. Clara has been quiet the whole time, her head tucked under Angel’s arm like the proverbial ostrich in sand.

  As we head for the docks, Angel wiggles down, scuffing her feet against the warm bricks as we walk.

  “So tell us about the houngan.” Tyler is walking beside Molita.

  “He’s evil, vindictive, and very powerful. He will hurt all of you if he can.”

  “I notice you didn’t include yourself in that.” Tyler takes Molita’s arm and guides her around a bump in the pavement then drops it when she’s no longer in danger of tripping.

  She throws a quick glance at him, but his gaze has flicked to Piper who is walking hand in hand with our daughter, Clara tucked carefully under Angel’s other arm. His attention turns back to Molita, polite inquiry on his features.

  “My power, while not as great as his, is still strong. I practiced with the mambo asogwe for many years. Since I was the size of this little one.” She looks at Angel and smiles. “I know how to protect myself. And our island is protected by our spirits.”

  Mr. Dunn grimaces but says nothing. Mina slips her hand through his arm. “Is it really so difficult to accept what we are?”

  He pats her hand. “You are kind, beautiful and harm no one. That I can accept. Now tell me more about this houngan.”

  Mina takes over. “He grows more and more powerful. Jon-Jo feeds on fear and people’s need for revenge. Many have died and many have disappeared. His rituals are definitely practiced after midnight, the time of evil. Besides his power of the occult, he is a top computer technologist. He has his own shop and almost everyone in the islands goes to him for repair, programming, you name it. That in itself brings a kind of power.”

  My gaze meets Piper’s. How much effort would it take for him to ferret out our secrets and contact Craven or Stranger? My fears reflect back at me in her eyes.

  “He actually kills people?” Amy’s lips part and her breath whooshes out.

  Molita shrugs. “It has never been proven. He uses voodoo dolls, which true practitioners use for empowerment, happiness, and protection. Like the gris-gris bags.”

  As we get in the boat, I say, “It sounds like he plays on peoples’ fears.”

  “Yes.” Molita settles in the seat beside me. “And if they don’t have fears or beliefs, he helps that along.”

  “A con man with a snake,” Tyler murmurs as we motor away from the dock.

  “Don’t underestimate him. He has real power,” Molita warns.

  Gramps points out a dolphin swimming beside the boat and the conversation becomes more general.

  Once home, we spend the rest of the afternoon and evening moving to the two-story cottage. I’m not looking forward to being under the same roof as Tyler and Piper. I’m sure he wishes me elsewhere as well.

  As night settles in, Piper pulls me aside. “I’m going with Molita and Angel to the glen to watch them make gris-gris bags and have a ceremony for them like she did for Angel’s gris-gris.”

  “Do you want me to come?” I do
n’t like the idea of them wandering alone on the island after dark, especially after what happened this afternoon.

  “It won’t be necessary, Tyler’s coming.”

  With his name, the awkwardness is back.

  “I just wanted to let you know where she’d be.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  She nods and walks away.

  I start to call out then stop myself. What can I say? I hate this awkwardness between us? You must know I didn’t mean what I said earlier?

  Instead I go to the ocean and swim under the stars, letting the sea work its magic. Two dolphins keep me company until I’m exhausted enough to sleep.

  I open the door as Molita, Tyler, Piper, and Angel are going out.

  “Daddy, Clara is in my room. Don’t let her out.”

  “I’ll guard her with my life.”

  “Even though you’re teasing me, I know you’ll keep her safe.”

  I ruffle her hair. “You bet.”

  I stare after them as they leave.

  Amy comes up beside me. “Are you okay?”

  I give her a quick hug. “I’m fine. Are you?”

  “Yes. It’s a beautiful place. Molita and Mina are so nice. Mr. Dunn seems smitten.”

  “Yeah, he does.”

  “I thought I heard something outside earlier, but I guess it was a false alarm. I took a look and Tyler did too.”

  My skin jumps and the muscles in my neck tighten.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. I think it was some sort of night bird.”

  I relax.

  “Are you hungry? I can make us some sandwiches.”

  “You’re a doll, but if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

  “No, of course not. Actually, I think I’ll turn in too.”

  “It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?”

  “You could say that.” She grins at me. “Night, bro.”

  “Night, sis.”

  She heads for her room and I start up the stairs to the loft. I’m halfway there when she screams.

  Chapter 12

  Joel

  My heart hammering, I race into the room and skid to a halt. I blink then blink again. With vicious intent, Clara is attacking a tarantula. The hairy spider’s legs spasm in the last throes of death. “Way to go, Clara.”

  My lips twitching, I glance at my sister and my face freezes. She sits on the edge of the bed, holding her leg. “Amy?”

  “It bit me.” Her breaths come in shallow bursts, her face dead white.

  Mr. Dunn bursts into the room. “What’s going on?”

  It’s hard to speak with my pulse pounding so hard in my throat. I manage to get out, “Amy’s been bitten by a tarantula.”

  His bushy white eyebrows rise to his hairline then settle. “Let’s just take a look at that, young lady. Joel, get me some soap and water and a bag of ice will you? While these bites are uncomfortable, they’re seldom dangerous.”

  I rush to the kitchen, grab a bar of soap, a bowl of hot water, a clean dish rag, and a bag of ice and run back to the girls’ room.

  “Good lad.” Mr. Dunn’s bones creak as he squats at Amy’s feet. I crouch beside him. He takes the bowl from me and cleans the wound. “It’s unusual for tarantulas to actually bite people. You must have surprised him.”

  Amy grits her teeth as she leans back on the bed. “I wasn’t anywhere near him, didn’t even see him until he came straight at me from the other side of the room.”

  Mr. Dunn and I exchange looks. My muscles tighten in uneasy knots. Surely, the run-in we had with Jon-Jo has nothing to do with this.

  He pats her ankle dry. “Scoot up against the headboard and we’ll just put this ice pack on your ankle to numb it and stop the swelling.”

  Amy pushes back and Mr. Dunn applies the ice. She rubs her chest. “Hate to whine, but I can’t seem to catch my breath.”

  Alarm bells go off in my head. Whether this is vodou or a bad reaction to the bite, I’m nervous. I don’t even know where the hospitals are around here.

  With a little grunt, Mr. Dunn pushes to his feet. “Why don’t you go over and get Mina? Maybe there’s a doctor on the island. Worst case scenario there’s bound to be a hospital of sorts in Grand Turk.”

  “Yes, sir.” I race out of the house and minutes later I’m pounding on Mina’s door. She answers swiftly. “Joel, is anything the matter?”

  “Amy has been bitten by a tarantula. She seems to be having a reaction to it.”

  “Jon-Jo,” she murmurs.

  “Is there a doctor on the island?”

  “There’s a young man who was a medic in the army. He helps us in emergencies. I’ll call him. We’ll also need Molita to make a healing doll for Amy.”

  I start to protest, then shrug. “Can’t hurt.”

  Mina grabs her cell and murmurs into it then clicks off. “Dylan will meet us there.”

  As we leave, I telegraph a quick message. Angel, we need Molita.

  We head back to the cottage. Mina doesn’t seem to hurry but her long legs have no problem keeping up with mine.

  I push through the door and burst into the bedroom. Amy is lying with her eyes closed. Her chest is rising up and down rapidly. Color ebbs and flows in her face. “How is she?”

  Before Mr. Dunn can answer, Amy rasps, “I’m okay, bro.”

  Mr. Dunn gives a little negative shake of his head.

  I kneel beside her and take her hand. “Help’s on the way, sis.”

  Mina leaves the room and comes back with a damp cloth. She sits on the side of the bed and strokes Amy’s face with it. “There, child, doesn’t that feel better?”

  Amy nods.

  Knock. Knock.

  I throw open the door. A young man, with a shock of curly red hair, carrying a black bag stands in front of me. “I’m Dylan Walsh. I hear you’ve got someone who has a tarantula bite.”

  I stick out my hand. “Joel Eisler. Please come in.” He follows me to Amy’s bedroom and stops in the doorway. A quick flash of admiration crosses his face. I sometimes forget how lovely my sister is with her blue-black hair and olive complexion. The look is gone as quickly as it comes, replaced with one of professionalism. He strides toward her and puts his hand on her forehead. “I hear you’ve been dancing with spiders, Miss…”

  “Amy. Amy Eisler.”

  Her musical dolph’s voice stops him cold. When her eyes flutter open, his mouth drops. Then he smiles and takes her hand. “I’m going to make you better, Miss Amy.”

  “Thank you, Dr…”

  “Just call me, Dylan.”

  She smiles. “Dylan.”

  He holds her hand for a long moment.

  I clear my throat. He blinks as if coming out of a trance. Still holding her hand, he says, “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “My chest hurts and I’m having trouble breathing.”

  “Where were you bitten?”

  “My ankle.”

  He drops her hand and examines the ankle. “Smart move using an ice pack. It should keep the swelling down. Now let’s see if we can get you more comfortable.” While he’s speaking to Amy, he opens his worn leather case, does a quick check of her vitals, then pulls out a plastic bag of fluid.

  “What’s in it?” Mr. Dunn leans over his shoulder.

  “Just a bit of antibiotic, a pain reliever, and nutrients. She may be very sick, but I don’t think it’s life threatening.” Gently, he hooks the bag over the edge of the bed then runs an IV into her hand.

  “Do we need to get her to a hospital?” I don’t like the way the color surges and recedes in her face or her shallow breathing.

  “Keep a close eye on her. If it worsens, yes. But I don’t think it will.”

  “I’ll wait around until the bag empties then I’ll remove it.” He glances at the bag then adjusts the tube running into it.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  In
the front of the house, the door bangs. Angel, Piper, Molita, and Tyler rush in.

  “Aunt Amy.” Angel runs to the bed.

  “Hi, little one,” Amy murmurs.

  Dylan stares at Angel’s eyes, then takes in Piper’s and mine. “Are you all related?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” I respond.

  “I’m so sorry, Aunt Amy.”

  “It’s not your fault, honey.”

  “It’s that horrible houngan.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes.” Her voice is emphatic.

  Dylan’s eyebrows go up. He looks at Molita. “If that’s the case, maybe you can do more for her than I can.”

  Molita nods. Her glance falls on the dead tarantula and she frowns.

  “I’ll just get rid of this.” I grab a tissue and reach for it.

  Molita puts a hand on my arm. “No leave it. I need it.”

  “For?”

  “I’ll need it for the voodoo doll.”

  Dylan doesn’t blink. Mr. Dunn rolls his eyes.

  “Is vodou your religion too, Mr. Walsh?” I ask.

  “No, but I saw enough during my army stint not to discount anything. And I’ve been on the island for two years now. Mambo Molita has power. A power that she uses for good.”

  “Thank you.” She nods gravely at Dylan.

  Amy bites back a moan.

  “I’d best prepare,” Molita says.

  Dylan pulls a chair up to Amy’s bed. “I’ll stay with our patient.”

  “I’m going to help Molita,” Angel announces and follows the young priestess out.

  “I thought voodoo dolls were to hurt people.” Mr. Dunn scratches his head, his hair already on end from sleeping.

  “That’s Jon-Jo’s kind of vodou. The kind you hear of on TV,” Mina explains. “Molita will make a doll that will empower and heal Miss Amy.”

  Angel comes running back with scissors.

  “Don’t run with scissors in your hand,” Piper and I say together.

  Angel immediately slows down. She lifts a lock of Amy’s hair. “Molita needs it for the doll.”