by Debra Kristi
I nod but don’t grant his comment a verbal response.
He glances from Luna to me, once more. “She’s like the calm to your crazy.” His hands move through the air, sliding softly downward to imitate the flow of her hair. Then his palms splay and jolt upward in reference to my many unmanageable curls.
“Funny.” I frown and narrow my gaze.
He grins. “I look forward to learning much about you on the ride,” he says to Luna. Her gaze blinks to me.
“He’s just playing with you,” I say and turn my gaze on him. “Mostly.”
“Yep. Yep.” He motions Luna toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“Hey.” I grab Luna’s arm. “My brother might be able to help you figure that thing out, the one with your dad, if you feel comfortable talking to him.”
“Oh.” Her gaze snaps to Michael, then back to me. “Maybe.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Michael rushes Luna along with a quick hand wave. “Let’s get this party rolling.”
He helps her into the car and closes her door, then circles around to the driver’s side. “See ya around, lil’ sis.” He slides in behind the wheel, starts the car, and drives away. Luna stretches her arm out the window and waves. I watch them move down the street and around the corner.
The rest of the week goes by in a blur, with the exception of a small waxing moon spell I perform to help my courage level on all fields: Mom, Mom’s possible Caleb connection, and Luna… whatever is going on there, with her father and between us.
Every day after school, Luna and I talk on the phone for hours. Although, it hardly feels like much time passes at all. I tell her things I probably shouldn’t. I tell her about my mom’s condition and about my mom’s ex-boyfriend trying to burn my family alive. I even confess to her about my suspicions of my sister’s motherly way state.
She tells me about her life in Monticello, before New Orleans. She also tells me about the friends she left behind, Alana and Ryelee. I learn that Luna was homeschooled, so she didn’t have the same opportunity to make friends as I have had. The time I spent in class with friends and fellow classmates, she spent sitting at the kitchen table, with her mother as her guide and tutor.
Turns out, we both watch the television show Sabrina. We both adore all animals and would care for them all, if we could. I covet her long, straight hair, and she totally digs my crazy kinks. Purple is the preferred color for both of us, and we totally enjoy jamming to the bands No Doubt and Green Day. We have so much in common, it’s like our meeting was kismet.
I find myself counting the days, hours, and minutes until our planned, in-person meet up on Sunday. Come Sunday, I head out early, allowing plenty of time for me to make my destination. Traveling by bike, I take the ferry across the water and then pedal to the steps across from Jackson Square. The first to arrive, I take a seat and wait.
Luna arrives within ten minutes time. Her body posture is rigid and her smile, nervous.
“Hey.” I leap from my seat and rush forward, give her a hug. Her body is stiff. Awkward.
“Hey.” She steps back. “Glad you could come.”
“Are you?” I glance over her. “It sure doesn’t seem like it.”
Her body shakes, as if shuddering something off. “I really am. I’m sorry. It’s just… well, this morning has been rather off-putting.”
“How so?” I grab her hand and pull her to a seat beside me on the cement steps. “Did something happen?”
“You don’t want to hear about it.” She waves my question away. “It’s boring.”
“If it’s making you all stiff and uncomfortable, then it isn’t boring, and I definitely want to know about it, so that we can resolve your discomfort.”
Luna glances across the street, toward Jackson Square. I follow her gaze and spy two intense men staring back at us. A halo of vapers wafts around one, and he drags a slow inhale from the cigarette held in his hand. He hands the smoke to the guy standing beside him.
I shiver and my skin prickles with an endless supply of goosebumps.
I’ve seen these men somewhere before. I know I have. But where? My mind races, lands on the memory of James, and my meeting the other day with his brother. The three of us were sitting at a table talking when a man walked in. The bokor, I was told. He had two lackies following in his wake. The same two lackies who now have their sights glued tight on Luna.
The second guy drops the cigarette and squashes it with his foot. Takes a stride in our direction.
Chapter Six
“Want to go for a ride?” I grab Luna’s hand and, without waiting for her response, drag her to my bike. I hop on, straddling the top tube, then motion for her to jump on the seat.
Her gaze darts to the men crossing the street. In a blink, she is on the bike with her arms wrapped snugly around me, and I’m standing, cranking the pedals into a full jam down the street. Her body is warm against mine, and it sends my skin into a fuzzy tingle.
Or, it might be the tension of the situation.
“What was that about?” I call over my shoulder, keeping my eye on the shifting traffic ahead—both cars and humans.
“I don’t know exactly,” she says. “I think the spell I cast for love backfired and gave me creepers instead.”
Love spell? My muscles straighten, tighten, and my chest squeezes. An explosion of auto fumes assaults my nose, sending my upper body into shivers.
The motion of her body twisting to view the path behind us jars the bike, and I readjust my weight.
“What love spell?” My thoughts are flushing with crimson. I felt myself starting to feel something for Luna. A special kind of kinship. I know we only just met, but still… What if everything I felt… feel… is all the falsity of a spell? I release a heavy exhale. “I don’t think a failed love spell would bounce back with creepers. But then, what do I really know.”
“You’re probably right,” she mumbles.
I envision her with her head bowed, and it reminds me of her rambled apology and excuse laid on me at the coven meeting. She said then that she’d bolted from our previous meeting in order to protect me, sort of. What if she believes she’s doing the same thing now by remaining close-lipped about whatever is going down?
“You know, my family is somewhat well known here in New Orleans for our witch heritage. Some people fear us. Some people think we’re crazy powerful… or just crazy.” My grip on the handlebars tightens. “We might be able to help you, if you are willing to share the truth about whatever is happening.”
I pedal us all the way to the Café Du Monde at Riverwalk. Lock up my bike and lead Luna inside, where we share a plate of beignets. Luna is oddly quiet, and when she does speak, she adeptly avoids the topic I want to discuss, the men clearly following her. She redirects the conversation to her dad, another topic of concern, so I allow the deflect.
“He drank himself into a stuper last night,” she says, pushing at a beignet. “I’ve never seen him so bad, and he refuses to talk to me. I don’t know what is going on, and I don’t know what to do.”
“My gut tells me those creeper guys are somehow involved.” I lean back and splay my hands across the tabletop, in an attempt to avoid crossing my arms.
“Maybe.” She pushes her empty cocoa to the side and takes a sip of her water, then glances to her left and to her right. I’ve been keeping a watch on the patrons coming and going. So far, no one has swished any brooms in my mind. “Whatever it is, I don’t like it. The lack of control and the not knowing are driving me batty. ” She leans into the table. “I get the sense that you understand what I’m talking about. You understand, don’t you?”
I lean close and pin my gaze upon her. “I understand better than I’d care to.”
She nods, releases a tiny huff of I-thought-so, and relaxes back in her chair. “Everything about the atmosphere here in New Orleans just feels charged for disaster. It’s like there is an invisible tide and my dad is caught in the undertow.”
“You’re sensing the
magick humming through the Quarter. Specifically, the threads of darker magick.” I lean onto my elbows and weave my fingers together. “That’s my suspicion, anyway.”
“You think I can pick up on the magick in the air?” Her eyes blink wide.
“Definitely. If you’re any kind of witch, you are sensing the threads, even if you don’t realize you are doing so,” I say.
“Wow.” Her muscles loosen, and she bites down on her lower lip, appears to gaze into oblivion for a moment. “I wish I was more aware of things than I am.”
“You’ll get there,” I say. “Eventually. Like any talent, it takes time and practice.”
Luna sighs. Frowns. “But I want it now. I’m impatient.”
“I totally understand.” I reach out to squeeze her hand, but then think better of the action and pull back. I find myself kind of liking this girl, a lot, but what do I really know about her? For all I know, she could be into guys.
The server sets two new mugs of cocoa on the table. Perfect timing. I grab mine and take a sip.
“We didn’t order these,” Luna says.
“Oh.” She flusters. “My mistake. I must have gotten you confused with another table.” She glances at me and my partially drunk coco. “They’re yours now unless you prefer I take them away.”
Luna blinks. Considers the question. Glances at me. “It’s fine,” she says.
The server nods and moves away, heads back toward the kitchen.
“I don’t know why I did that.” I motion to the mug, referencing the haste with which I took a sip. “I should have realized it was a mistake.” I glance toward the kitchen entrance and our disappearing server. Note a familiar face. “Or was it?”
“What?” Luna starts to turn around, but I grab her arm and stop her. “We need to go.” I pull a twenty from my bag, pray it’s enough, drop it on the table, and once more, drag us away from the bokor’s crazy lackeys. “Are they here? Did they find us?” She glances over her shoulder.
We rush out the door, head for my bike. I really don’t want to take the time to mess with the lock. Not now. I reach into my pocket and grab a pinch of spice, toss it toward the bolt.
The spice swirls through the air in a beautiful, seamless dance. The tiny particles sprinkle over the chain and connecting latch. It springs apart, and the bike jumps to the ready. Without hesitation, I leap into position, and Luna slips in behind me.
“How did you do that?” she asks and I push us into a quick exit. Pedal with all my might, moving us down the sidewalk.
“I told you I was a witch.” I don’t glance back at her. I keep my attention on our forward motion.
People are jumping out of our way and yelling at us as we pass.
“Yeah, but.” Luna tightens her grip around my waist. “I thought magick required the casting of spells and timing with the moon phases.”
“Some. Not all.” I crank, crank, crank us forward. My stomach rolls, and a thick churning of discomfort slides through me. The urgent desire to race to a bathroom hits me, and for a moment, it is all I can think about.
I groan.
“Are you alright?” Luna asks.
I want to say that I am, but I think that would be a lie. The pressure of her hold creates within me the desire to hurl. Why? Why am I feeling this way?
An image of the gratuitous cocoa jumps to mind, followed by the vision of the bokor’s two goons standing near the kitchen. Did they do something to me in an attempt to stop me from helping Luna?
I groan again.
“Get off of the sidewalk, kid,” someone yells.
I ignore them, keep moving away from the men.
A clueless jaywalker jumps onto the sidewalk in front of me.
I swerve right.
Someone stepping out of the adjacent market, yelps, jumps back, drops their bag. Items spill from the bag and scatter across the pavement.
I swerve left. Then a hard left. Jump the bike off the sidewalk and into the street. One of the spilled items rolls into our path. I have no time to react. The front tire slams into it, and we stop hard. The back of the bike rises. We are going to crash.
I witness everything happening in slow motion. It’s a nightmare I can’t escape. The bike flipping. Luna and me flying through the air. The asphalt our projected destination. The cars moving down the street in our direction. My spices breaking free from my pockets.
It’s an ugly, nasty nightmare that is one hundred percent true.
“I want to be home. I wish I were home,” I mumble, tight and fast.
I hit the ground. Roll onto my back.
I’m lying on the grass, looking up at the façade of Grandma’s house.
I jolt to a sit. Did I just magickally transport us across town?
Luna sits up and rubs her head. “How did you do that… and where are we?”
Bastian is there in an instant, rubbing against my side. Grandma steps out onto her new front porch. “That looked like a hard landing. Are you girls alright?”
I stare at her for a moment, then lurch sideways and vomit on the lawn.
“Oh dear.” Grandma rushes down the front steps as quickly as her weary legs will allow. “Oh goodness,” she says, putting her arms around me and helping me to a stand. “Let’s get you inside.”
We move toward the house, and Luna lingers on the front lawn, shifting her weight and swaying in place.
“Come on, child.” Grandma motions for Luna to follow. “I’m not going to bite you. I’m Belle’s grandma. I just want to see that you are both properly cared for.”
Bastian circles at her feet, mewing and begging for attention. She pets the cat and moves to retrieve the bike.
“Leave it,” Grandma says. “We’ll get that later.”
Luna glances at the bike, then back to me and Grandma. She obediently follows. Once inside the house, I extricate myself from my grandma’s guidance and rush for the downstairs bathroom. Relieve more vile substance from my system.
I wash my face, drop the lid down on the toilet, and take a seat. Rest my head in my hands.
My head is thrumming, insides are twisting, bones are aching, and I can’t decide if I am hot or cold. Death has got to be easier than suffering through this. Did those creepy dudes slip me something in the cocoa? Did they poison me?
“How are you doing in there, sweetie?” Grandma calls through the door.
“I’m going to live.” My response is close to a moan and slithering in misery.
“I would sure hope so.” She moves away, out of earshot.
With a harsh shiver, I break into a cold sweat. So, I wet a washcloth and press it to my forehead, the back of my neck, and my chest in a constant rotation. I slow my breaths and hope to diminish my symptoms, with slow counts to four. I count to four, four hundred and forty-four times. Decide I have a mild hold on my condition and step out of the bathroom.
Luna is sitting at the table staring out the window. At my appearance, she bolts to a stand. “Are you okay?”
“Something hit me fast and hard. I’m not well at all.” I press my hand against the edge of the table and rest my weight on it. “It feels like a nasty case of food poisoning.”
“Poisoning of a sort,” Grandma grumbles and emerges from the kitchen with a glass of water. She hands it to me. “You need to hydrate.”
I concede and take a small sip. “I feel as if I just suffered six hundred and sixty-six years of hell and I’m not even halfway toward the exit.” I glance at Luna. “Sorry about this.” I drag a hand over the front of me to infer my wretched state of being. “Did I abandon you for long? It seriously felt like forever with extra days tacked on.”
“Um.” My question appears to catch Luna at a loss, and she glances from me to my grandma to the clock on the wall, and finally to her watch.
“You were in the bathroom for close to thirty minutes,” Grandma says.
“That long?” I groan. Close my eyes. “I need to lie down.”
“Why don’t you rest in one of the
bedrooms.” Grandma takes the glass from me and holds on to it.
“Can’t deal with the stairs right now.” I move in slow, miserable motions toward the sofa.
A honk startles me. I glance out the window and note that a car has pulled up along the curb.
“That would be for me.” Luna grabs her bag. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she says to my grandma, then turns to me. “I called my mom while you were in the bathroom. I figured the last thing you need right now is to worry about me.”
“But I don’t mind worrying about you.” I grab her hand with a weak clutch.
A smile warms her face. “Rest and get better. Everything can wait until you are back to your full health.” She wraps me in a loose hug. It doesn’t last nearly long enough. She releases me and heads for the door.
“But…” I mutter.
“Thanks again,” she calls over her shoulder. And then she is gone. Out the door, down the steps, and slipping into the car with her mom.
I shuffle forward and collapse on the sofa.
Grandma pulls the side table closer and sets my water within reach. Drapes a light blanket over the top of me. “I will allow you to rest here for now. When Miri gets home, she will help you climb the stairs.”
I roll my eyes to a close and fall into a restless sleep.
My body is covered in frost. Uncontrollable shivers quake through my system, and I am barely clothed, curled in a ball, sitting on the icy earthen floor somewhere in the arctic tundra. Flash. I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone. The sun has moved too close to the planet and everything, everyone is melting.
I’m melting.
I’m dying.
“Who’s dying?”
With a jerk into consciousness, I fight the pressure of my weighted eyelids and gaze up at my sister, Miri.
“You look like death, but you are not dying. Not on my watch,” she says.
Chapter Seven
“How do you intend to help me cheat death?” I ask. “You refuse to use your magick.”
“Magick is not the only way to cheat death,” she replies. “Come on.” She motions for me to sit up. “Let’s get you upstairs.”