by Debra Kristi
Awake to a howling scream.
Chapter Twenty
I bolt upright. Screaming. Someone is screaming. I blink the fuzz from my brain and take in the room. It’s not a scream, but the shrill of a high-pitched ring.
“It’s Luna!” I jump out of bed and lurch toward the phone.
“How do you know?” Miri sits up and rubs at her eyes. Pushes the bedsheets away.
“I don’t know how I know; I simply do. It’s like our souls are connected on a higher level.” I grab the phone and lift the receiver to my ear. “Luna?”
Miri falls back to the bed and closes her eyes. “The baby wants more sleep,” she mumbles.
“I messed up,” she says, her voice streaked with choked grief. “I told my mom what we saw last night.”
My muscles stiffen. I knew she would; she told me as much when she left me in the cemetery. Still… “I told you to wait.”
“I know. And I probably should have. But I just couldn’t keep it from her.” Luna sniffles.
“I know.” I curl my legs into my chest. “You love her. I totally understand.”
“Yeah, but I should have thought it through,” she says.
“What happened?” A tingle races along my spine, and my back stiffens.
“She stormed off to find the bokor,” Luna says at a whisper.
“But she couldn’t, right?” I lean into the phone. “It’s not like he’s listed in the phonebook.”
“No… but remember I mentioned my grandparents on my dad’s side appeared to be familiar with all the bokor’s men?”
I bite my lip and suck back my breath and remember that conversation we had on her neighbor’s front steps. “Oh no.” The words are little more than a breath.
“Yeah,” Luna says. “After pulling the information from my dad’s parents, she went to see the bokor and give him a piece of her mind. That’s how she put it, anyway. I suspect there was yelling, in addition to a lot of crying and begging.”
“And all this happened last night? After you left me?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She drops silent for a count. “Again, I’m sorry about the way I left you.”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” I say. “How is your mom?”
“Not well,” Luna says. “She returned home at an early hour of the morning—sometime between three and three thirty—both heated and flustered. Now, this morning…” She pauses. Sniffles. “She started running a crazy high fever. She’s sweating buckets and mumbling nonsense. I think she’s delirious.”
“Hang tight,” I say and spin in my seat to peer at Miri. “I’m coming over and I’m bringing help.”
“Thank you,” she says. “Please hurry.”
I say goodbye and hang up the phone. Press into the mattress at Miri’s side. She opens her eyes with clear reluctance and gazes up at me.
“Phillip isn’t working today, is he?” I ask.
“No.” Her voice is groggy and crusted with sleep. “We have plans for lunch, later.” She rolls away from me and crushes the covers to her chest. “Much later.”
“You can sleep when you die.” I push at her back and she pretends to snore. “Please,” I plead. “Luna’s mom is sick.”
Miri rolls over and blinks her eyes to a partial focus. “And you want Phillip to help? He’s not a paramedic.”
“He’s the closest thing to a medic that we have in this family,” I retort.
“And if we drag him into too many crazy situations, he may not end up joining our family when all is done.” She rolls away.
“He would never do that. He loves you to the bottom of his heart.” I lie on the bed and curl against her. “Did you ever stop to think that Phillip, being a local boy, could handle the truth about us?”
“I don’t want him to have to handle that,” she says. “The knowledge has brought nothing positive into my life.”
“But isn’t it rather deceitful to not share such information with the man you plan to marry?” I sit up and cross my legs.
“Not if I forsake magick, choosing to leave it out of my life and new family.” She shifts and I know she’s gazing at her covered baby belly.
“And what of your already existing family?” I ask.
“You’ll always be my family. I love you guys. I simply choose to not participate in anything involving magick.” She shoves the covers away and pushes to a sit.
“And what of Mom?” I say. “How will you help her without using magick?”
“Magick is not the answer to all things.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed. “And I will find the non-magickal answer to curing her condition.”
A frown from deep within my gut grabs hold of my expression. I want to push Miri on the subject, pursue the conversation further, but I don’t have time. I need to get to Luna and her mom. I promised. “Then help me do some non-magickal good this morning.” I grab Miri by the shoulders and lean into her. “Luna says her mom is seriously sick. Like delusionally so, and if we can help her… or get her the help she needs…”
Miri bows her head. Yawns. “Fine. We wouldn’t want to ignore someone in physical need of help, would we?”
“No, we wouldn’t!” I bounce off the bed and dash to my bag, snag a clean outfit from my pile of choices. Race for the stairs to the bathroom. “Thank you.” I dash down the stairs and into the bathroom. Wash up and get dressed.
Grandma is in the kitchen making coffee when I reach the main floor.
“I hope you kids didn’t stay up much beyond my departure last night,” she says, handing me the orange juice from the refrigerator. She knows my morning habits.
“Not much.” I pour myself a glass. “We were all pretty tired.”
“And after a fair night’s sleep, I hope you will be more sensible. Drop your dangerous meddling.” She sprinkles sugar into her coffee and stirs.
“Maybe.” I drop a piece of bread into the toaster. Shove the button down, watch the inner wires ignite, and take a large gulp of my juice.
Grandma grumbles. “And are you up and dressed at this hour to maybe meddle in more of the bokor’s business?”
I swallow hard. “No,” I blurt, and it’s not a lie. The bokor is not the reason I am ready to head out the door. Not directly, anyway. “Got plans with Miri and Phillip. Wedding stuff, you know.”
The toast pops up. I snag the piece and take a bite to hide from further questions behind a full mouth.
“What is left to do?” she asks. A likely loaded question if you were to ask Miri. She’s always thinking of something more to fuss over, where the big day is concerned.
“Flowers.”
Grandma and I spin to the sound of Miri’s voice. She moves past us to the refrigerator and extracts a hard-boiled egg.
“Apparently, the flower I requested isn’t in bloom during February, so I need to pick something else.” She peels the egg and sprinkles it with salt. Takes a bite. Swallows. “Phillip will be here soon.” She shifts her attention to me. “Are you ready?”
“Yep. Ready to go.” I tap my heels.
Miri’s gaze returns to Grandma. “How are you feeling?” She places her hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “Did you take your vitamins?”
“I am fine.” Grandma brushes her hand away. “And please don’t treat me like an invalid. I’m not ready to kick the bucket just yet.”
“Never said you were, Grandma.” Miri steps back and appraises her. “But the toll recent events have taken on your body haven’t gone unnoticed. The use of magick is wearing on you.”
“Here we go with the magick talk again.” Grandma shakes her head and pours cream in her coffee, a sign that the coffee is a bit on the strong side.
“I’m not trying to be a nag,” Miri says. “It’s just, first you healed Belle; then you used your magick to sound-proof the room upstairs. You’ve been getting slower, ever since you exerted yourself like that.”
“Is this true?” I ask.
“No,” Grandma says at the same time Miri blurts a
solid yes.
“Okay.” My back straightens. “No more magick for you,” I say to Grandma.
“You too?” She frowns. “I’ll make you a deal.” She glances between me and Miri. “I’ll refrain from any more magick, if you both stay safely removed from any bokor or voodoo priest business.”
My lips pull straight and pucker. My insides are churning like whipped butter. Thick and heavy. I can’t agree to her terms. Not under the circumstances.
Three knocks rap on the front door.
“That will be Phillip,” Miri says, pulling her sweater into place. “We have to go, but while we’re gone, I recommend you rest.”
“I need to attend to your mother…”
“I just took care of her. She should be fine until we return.” She deposits a kiss on Grandma’s cheek. “Love you, Grams.”
Taking a cue from Miri, I kiss Grandma and dash out the door. Smack Phillip in the chest in passing. “Dressing in the department blues even on your day off?”
“Sounded like it might come in handy,” he replies and follows me down the front walk. I shove into the front seat of Phillip’s truck, pushing Miri to the middle.
“There is a second row of seats,” she says.
“I know.” I glance back. A bit tight but comfy enough. “But I don’t feel like sitting back there by myself.”
Miri rolls her eyes but doesn’t respond. Phillip makes sure we are all securely fastened and then starts the car. “I need to know where I am going,” he says as he pulls away from the curb. I give him quick instructions and promise to direct him along the way.
Phillip maneuvers through the streets like a master. And why not? He’s lived here all his life and is familiar with the territory. His father used to patrol many of the surrounding locations.
“I made a few calls this morning.” He cuts over to, above, and across the French Quarter avoiding much traffic, or Mardi Gras delay. “Turns out your mom’s old boyfriend has been locked up in solitary confinement for a few days. Two and a half, I believe.” He pulls at the neckline of his blue fire department shirt.
“That’s good, right?” Miri glances from Phillip to me.
Two and a half? That pretty much backs up to the night Michael and I cast the spell to help Mom. What does that mean?
“He can’t be causing anyone any harm while locked up there,” Phillip says, but I am leaning toward disagreeing. Maybe the confinement, the quiet space and endless alone time, is strengthening his ability to hold on to my mom.
“When is he scheduled to get tossed back into the regular prison population?” I ask.
“He got sentenced for a week, which means he has a few days of silence to endure.” Phillip rakes his hand through his hair and holds a keen eye on the traffic. Knowing the direction of all the one-way streets, he zips past, swings around and down the one on which Luna lives. He pulls to a stop directly in front of the house.
I throw open the door, jump out, and dash up the steps. Before my knuckles can reach the wood, the door flies open. Luna throws herself into my arms.
“I’m so scared,” she says between sobs. “My mom is never sick, and now I’m afraid she may die.”
A hand rubs across my back, and I reluctantly pull back, glance over my shoulder. Miri smiles at me, albeit uncommittedly.
“Luna, this here is my sister.” I swing an introductory motion to Miri.
She shoves forward and wraps her palms around one of Luna’s hands. “I’m Miri, and this here…” She points to Phillip. “Is my fiancé, Phillip. We’re here to take a look at your Mom’s condition and see what we can do to help.”
“Thank you.” She sniffles and steps aside, allowing the three of us entrance.
Miri graciously accepts, moves into the front room. Phillip climbs the front steps and introduces himself. “Wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” he says and follows Miri into the house. I trail at their back. Luna closes the door.
“She’s in the front bedroom.” Luna swings a pointed finger toward the first door along the hall. “I can’t. I can’t.”
I pull her into my embrace. “This is just a temporary challenge,” I say. “We’ll get through this, and everything will be okay.” Silently, I pray I’m not gracing her with lies and false hopes.
Miri and Phillip disappear into the bedroom. Miri quickly reappears with a bowl in hand, rushes into the kitchen, pulls a washcloth from the basin, dampens it, and dashes back to the room.
Holding Luna at my side, I direct us to the bedroom doorway. Mrs. Flores lies on the bed, on top of the covers. Her pale skin, wrinkled clothing, blue bedsheets are soaked in sweat. She shakes nonstop, and her lips are in constant motion, mumbling unrecognizable words. She appears thinner, far more gaunt than I remember. Miri dabs at Luna’s mom’s forehead with the damp cloth.
“Have you called 9-1-1?” Phillip asks. Luna shakes her head. “I really think you should.” He holds one of Mrs. Flores’ eyes open wide and shines a small light within. “I’m no medic, but her condition appears far beyond any cold or small infection. This looks serious, and I don’t think we should take chances.”
Be Luna’s mom’s condition be magickally induced or not, we are not equipped to handle her condition. I spin toward the phone in the kitchen. And I refuse to allow Luna to lose both her parents in the same weekend, not if there is anything that can be done. I punch the three numbers into the phone and wait for the emergency operator to come on the line, which she immediately does.
It takes ten minutes for the sirens to reach my ears, and an additional three for the team to knock at the door.
They load Luna’s mom into the back of the ambulance and sweep away to the hospital. Luna and I pile into the truck with Phillip and Miri and make our way, not nearly as fast, to the same destination.
Everyone is steeped in awkward silence for the drive. My heart and head are heavy. Breaking for Luna. And yet, my mind is churning around and around the idea of the bokor and what he could have possibly done to have caused this condition in Luna’s mom.
I have no proof he is responsible, but my gut tells me… yells at me… that it is so.
Phillip parks the truck what feels like a mile away from the emergency entrance. The parking lot is jam packed, suggesting a busy day in the ER. Holding Luna’s hand, granting her what comfort and support I have to offer, we cover the distance in motions that pain the chest. Too slow.
The entrance to the emergency room glides open, and we are immediately assaulted with the pungent stink of blood, urine, and massive amounts of disinfectant. Phillip and Miri make their way to the front desk and ask after Luna’s mom. I hang back with a somewhat distraught Luna.
“Belle, is that you?” Someone grabs my arm.
Chapter Twenty-One
With a jolt and a spin, I come face to face with Jeanna’s mom. “Mrs. Davis?”
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Are you alright? Is everyone in your family alright? Your mom?” She leans closer. “Jeanna mentioned you were staying at your grandmother’s.”
“I’m okay,” I say, avoiding the “mom” question. “This is Luna.” I shift to the side, allowing Luna a better view of Jeanna’s mom. “She recently joined our Monday group. I’m here with her. They just brought her mom in by way of ambulance.”
“Oh dear. I hope it isn’t anything serious,” she says and leads us over to the front counter. “What’s her name?” She pulls a clipboard out and runs her finger along the list of names.
“Flores,” Luna says. “Camila Flores.”
Jeanna’s mom looks up from the clipboard. “This isn’t the lady Jeanna asked me to check in on, is it?”
Luna turns her gaze to me, confusion plastered on her face. With all that has happened since our coven meeting, I don’t blame her for forgetting our original plan to help her dad, check in on her mom.
“It is,” I say and nod at Luna. She blinks and joins me in the nod.
“Ah.” Mrs. Davis sets the clipboard dow
n and slides it to the side. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help before now.” She frowns. Shakes her emotions into order and adopts the calm appearance of a trauma nurse. “It doesn’t look like she’s been logged in yet. But if she was brought in by the paramedics, she would bypass the waiting room mess and be rolled straight to the back. Let me go check on the situation.” She grabs Luna’s hand and mine, squeezes. “Hold strong, girls. I’ll be right back.” She disappears through the door to the row of curtained exam spaces.
“There you are.” Miri steps up and pulls us into a group hug. “Can we get you anything?” she asks of Luna.
Luna shakes her head. “Do they need me to sign anything? She tilts her head toward the check in desk.
“Oh, no,” Miri says. “You’re not old enough.”
“Right.” Luna drops her gaze to the scuffed vinyl floor.
“Where’s Phillip?” I ask.
“He’s using his connections to get us some information on Mrs. Flores’ condition.” Miri grabs my hand and leads me toward a cluster of open seats. We settle in next to each other. “Apparently his fireman status gives him some sort of clout or something. He gets treated differently than the rest of us poor emergency room peeps.” A touch of irritation scratches at the undertones of her delivery.
“Tell him thank you for me,” Luna says.
“You can tell him yourself.” Miri lifts her chin, and I follow the direction indicated. Phillip walks our direction, sporting his blue with gold department t-shirt. He scratches at his shoulder blade.
“They’re doing the blood work now,” he says, coming to a stop in front of us. “And she’s going to have a few other tests done, which means, it could be awhile before we know anything. So… get comfortable.”
Miri bolts to a stand. “What do you say we get some coffee,” she says to Phillip, tossing me a fleeting glance. It’s short but meaningful. Her unspoken message: she’s giving me and Luna some alone time. Phillip nods with approval, then turns to me and Luna.