by Terri Garey
“No, duh,” Evan said, heading toward the storage room with ill grace. “She’ll need the height to balance out all that beadwork. She needs a new ribbon, too. And some work on her hair.”
I stepped back and eyed her critically. Audrey’s beehive wig could use a little freshening, and a cream-colored ribbon for a headband would be just the thing.
The shop bell jingled, and I glanced over to see a man with dark hair, dressed in a suit and tie. He was carrying a big black book, clutched tight to his chest.
He saw me, too. “Ms. Styx?”
“Can I help you?” A salesman of some kind, I was sure. We got them all the time in Little Five; everybody had a product to sell, and everybody wanted your store to sell it.
“My name is Jimmy Boyd,” the man said, coming toward me, “and I am here to save your soul.” He held up the book so I could see the title. GOD’S HOLY WORD, it said. Big gold letters, two inches high.
“My soul is quite safe, thank you,” I said, without missing a beat. “Evan? Could you come back out here?”
He stopped several feet away. “Don’t be afraid, Ms. Styx,” the man said, “I have been sent to you by God above, to be your guardian angel upon this earth.” He smiled at me, the practiced smile of a snake-oil salesman (I knew “slick” when I saw it). “Praise ye Him, and all His angels,” he recited, shaking the Bible in my direction. “Praise ye Him, and all His hosts.”
Then he had the nerve to give me a wink.
Right.
I made sure to keep the Audrey mannequin between me and the loony du jour. Today’s special: religious fanatic, served with a side dish of bullshit. I called, “Evan?” much more loudly this time.
“No need to be concerned. I’m not here to hurt you.” The man lowered the book, holding it against his belly with both hands, title side out. “I’m here to set you free.” His eyes glowed with excitement, and he stared at me as though I should be excited, too. Late forties, thinning hair, carefully combed. “I’m here to set you free from Crystal Cowart.”
“Look, buddy.” I backed up, and keeping multiple racks of clothes between us, made a beeline for the register, where I kept a perfectly legal can of pepper spray below the counter. “I am not interested in anything you have to sell, so you need to get out.” I pointed the pepper spray at him, glad to see my hand was only shaking a teeny bit.
He looked shocked, but I saw no need to beat around the bush.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “Crystal was a very troubled girl, and I want to make sure she’s put to rest.”
That got my wary attention. “You knew Crystal?”
“Very well,” he said, pinning a mournful look on his face. “Her mother is heartbroken, and her sister…”
“She had a sister?” It had never occurred to me that Crystal had a sister.
“Amber Marie,” the man said. “Twelve years old and pretty as a picture.” He gave me the bullshit smile again, obviously trying to put me at ease. “I’d like to give the family some closure.”
Twelve years old. Poor kid.
“I can’t help you,” I said flatly. “You need to leave.” I didn’t put down my pepper spray, either.
“Crystal’s mother told me about her visit with you the other day,” he said, just as flatly. “I think we can help one another, you and I. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and all you need to do is trust me.”
Yeah, like that was gonna happen.
The shop bell jingled behind him, and in walked Sammy, larger than life. I gripped the pepper spray tighter. He was wearing blue today, a pale blue T-shirt that matched his eyes.
Eyes, I noted, that were narrowed on my unwelcome visitor, Jimmy Boyd.
“Is there a problem here, Nicki?” I’d never seen Sammy so grim. Always, even when he was being threatening, there was a wicked twinkle in his eyes, like he was having fun. Not so today.
Mr. Slick wheeled around to face him, practiced smile already in place. “No problem. We were just talking.” He held up the Bible. “The Lord moveth me to speak the truth to all who will listen.”
“Maybe the Lord should moveth you to get your ass out of this store,” Sammy said quietly, never taking his eyes from Boyd. “I don’t think the lady is interested.”
I should’ve spoken up, but I didn’t. Quite frankly, Jimmy Boyd’s snake-oil extremism creeped me out, and I wanted him gone.
Sammy was the devil I knew, and Boyd the one I didn’t.
There was a brief stare down between the two men, but never any doubt as to the outcome. Boyd flashed me a dissatisfied look over his shoulder, lips thin, and said, “I’ll keep you in my prayers, Ms. Styx.” Then he left, tucking his Bible under an arm.
Sammy shifted only enough to let the larger man through the door.
As soon as the door closed behind Boyd, I relaxed. Which was weird, considering I was alone with Sammy again, a place I swore I’d never be.
“Thanks.” I lowered the can of pepper spray, but didn’t let go of it. “Now go away.”
Sammy smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he said, and stayed where he was.
An awkward silence ensued, at least on my part. I kept hoping Evan would show up, anytime, but he didn’t.
“Off you go.” I wiggled the fingers of my free hand to shoo Sammy on his way. “Good deed finished.”
“Ah, Nicki.” He shook his head. “You wound me.”
He was uncharacteristically somber today, and I couldn’t help but wonder why.
“As if I, of all people, would do anyone a good deed.”
Even his jokes were off, missing their usual wry tone.
“Then what are you doing here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “The stench of that one carried all the way across the street.”
The back of my neck tingled.
“Ah,” I said, with a gleam of understanding. “Don’t care for the religious types, do you?”
His response surprised me. “I have no problem with true men of faith. God has His army, and I have mine.” He crossed his arms over his chest, showing great biceps and a taut belly. “I would hardly put that creature in the same class.”
I eyed him warily, not sure what to make of that.
“We all have our hot buttons, and mine is hypocrisy,” he said shortly.
“I would think hypocrites would be right up your alley.” I had no idea why I was being so bold with him. “Seems like that would make him one of yours.”
“Oh, he’s mine, all right,” Sammy said, grimly. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
I had no answer for that. My nervousness increased at the reminder of who I was talking to.
“You look pretty today,” he said, for all the world as if he meant it. “Paradise is missing a flower.”
Paradise. Last night I’d dreamed of Paradise.
“Stay out of my dreams,” I said bluntly, glad of the reminder. “I need my beauty sleep.”
A genuine smile, the first since he’d walked in. “You’ve been dreaming of me?” He stood taller, looking very pleased with himself all of a sudden. “Dare I hope we were naked?”
“No, we weren’t naked,” I said heatedly. Not this time. “But you would know that as well as I.”
He just grinned like the Cheshire cat, neither confirming nor denying. The thick leather strap watch suited him, as did the narrow black braided bracelet he wore with it. His rings were back; a heavy silver one on the finger he hooked in the front pocket of his jeans, a smaller one on his pinky.
“We’re always naked in my dreams,” he said wickedly. “Tell me about yours.”
Warning bells went off in my brain. Or maybe it was the smoke alarm in my pants. Whatever it was, it was enough to jar some sense into me.
“That guy was a friend of your friend, Crystal,” I said coldly. “He wanted to help put her to rest.”
Sammy’s flirtatiousness vanished. “How ironic,” he said. “Since he’s the one who killed her.”
<
br /> My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” Totally confused now, I blurted, “Joe said Crystal died because she was anorexic…are you saying she was murdered?”
A murderer? Here, in my store?
Sammy looked at me for a long minute, considering. “I didn’t say he murdered her, Nicki. I said he killed her.” He turned to go. “I’ll leave you to figure out the difference.”
“And if I do?”
He froze, then turned his head in my direction. The movement reminded me of a snake whose attention had just been caught by a mouse—a slow, sinuous movement designed not to frighten. “If you do what? Figure out why poor little Crystal Cowart was so messed up that she starved and purged herself to death?” His coldness was chilling. “Why should I care? Why should you?”
“I just do.” I’d sent more than my share of spirits into the Light. Most were easy—do me a favor, and I’ll rest in peace—but not all were willing, or able, to go. Crystal wasn’t able, yet she needed to be at peace so she’d leave Joe and me alone.
It was hard to meet his gaze, but I refused to look away.
“Why don’t I just tell you what happened to Crystal,” he said, blue eyes burning into mine, “and save us both some time. She was sexually molested when she was thirteen by the one man she thought she could trust the most—her mother’s new Bible-thumping boyfriend, the man you just met, Jimmy Boyd.”
I felt nauseous, sick to my stomach.
“Nobody believed her, you see. Who would take the word of a flighty, attention-seeking girl against such a devout and upright man of God?” A sardonic curl of the lip. “Crystal didn’t stand a chance. Her own mother didn’t believe her, not even after Boyd dumped her, claiming scandal wasn’t ‘good for the church.’ Stupid woman continues to turn to him for spiritual guidance.” A slow blink, conveying either contempt or boredom, I wasn’t sure which. “Imagine…the man who molested her daughter.”
“You sorry bastard,” I said, furious at the calmness with which he spoke of Crystal’s very tragic life.
“Don’t blame me.” Sammy raised his palms in my direction. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not responsible for child molesters. I didn’t create them any more than I created rapists or serial killers or psychopaths. Mankind creates more than enough cruelty and chaos to destroy itself, with little help from me.”
I had no idea whether he was telling me the truth or not—about any of it—but it didn’t matter.
“What’s truly sad is that there is no shortage of victims for people like Boyd—the weak, the stupid, the helpless.” He sighed pensively, almost as though he cared. “Is it any wonder that so many of those poor souls choose revenge over oblivion?”
“You took advantage of Crystal,” I said, my voice shaky. “She was angry when she died, delirious, not thinking clearly.” It was true, it had to be true. “She couldn’t have had a fair choice in the matter.”
Sammy shook his head. “You’re wrong. I always give them a choice.”
“I think she would’ve chosen otherwise if she’d been thinking clearly,” I said recklessly. “I think you cheated her.” I waited for some fire and brimstone. “I think you cheated her out of her soul because she was confused and disoriented when she died.”
He shrugged, and the sight of it infuriated me.
“You claim contempt for men like Boyd, but you’re as big a hypocrite as he is.” That earned me a look I didn’t care for. “You claim you were thrown out of Heaven for doing what came naturally; you said you tempt others as you were once tempted, just to prove some things are impossible to resist. Where does Crystal Cowart figure into all that?”
In a flash, faster than I would’ve believed possible, Sammy had me pinned against the wall behind the counter. His body was hard against mine, male and imposing, his face inches away. “Listen to me, little girl,” he said, and his breath smelled of cloves, “I could hurt you. I could hurt you, and those you love”—his nose touched mine, briefly—“very, very badly.” He rested his forehead on my cheek, while I stood frozen, not daring to struggle. The hands that gripped my shoulders were hard, but not hurting. My heart was beating against my ribs, breasts pressed firmly to Sammy’s chest. “Do as I ask, and become mine,” he rasped, sending tendrils of heat from my ear to my belly, “and I will let Crystal’s soul go free.”
“No,” I whispered. Evil held me in his arms, yet fear was fading. “You don’t want to hurt me.” I would never have believed it, didn’t understand it. Just knew it.
He went still as stone. I wanted to touch him, just once, of my own volition, but didn’t dare. I splayed my fingers against the wall instead, hearing the can of pepper spray clatter to the floor. My hands stayed flattened against the pebbly surface of the drywall, while the rest of me throbbed with an awareness of him.
“Let me offer Crystal peace, and see what she chooses. Let me offer her a way to resolve her anger.” I didn’t even know where the words were coming from anymore—it just seemed important to say them. “If I do that, and she still chooses you, then you win.”
He took a deep breath, and I felt it in every inch of me—his chest, his belly, the thigh pressed hard against the vee of my legs.
“And my prize?”
I couldn’t answer. I knew what he wanted went much deeper than the physical. He wanted me to give in to the teeny little bit of dark that lurked inside me, to use it, to flaunt it, like my makeup and my clothes. If you got it, haunt it, Nicki.
But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
He seemed to know he wasn’t going to get an answer. Moving his head ever so slightly, lips millimeters from my skin, he murmured, “And if I lose?”
My voice was shaky. “If you lose, and she chooses the Light, then you go away and leave me alone.” I couldn’t seem to draw breath enough to speak above a whisper.
“Is that what you want?” His lips brushed my ear, and my knees weakened.
“Yes.”
“What’s to stop me from taking what I want, little Nicki?” His voice curled into my ears like smoke—I closed my eyes at the sensation.
“Because you want me to want it, too,” I murmured, at the limits of my endurance. It must’ve been the dream, had to have been the dream, that made me so sure of myself.
A growl, very close to my ear, brought my eyes open.
To nothing.
Sammy was gone, and I was standing alone, pinned to the wall by nothing but my own adrenaline. The store was empty.
“Oh, my goodness me,” Bijou said, face pale. Splotches of rouge stood out on her cheeks. “You actually made an agreement with him? Have I taught you nothing?” She rose from her chair, beginning to pace.
“I…” I fumbled with words, feeling awkward and stupid. Shell-shocked, even. “We…he…didn’t actually agree to anything.” Shock at what I’d done had driven me straight to the Embassy Suites to see my grandmother. I wanted to tell Joe, I wanted to tell Evan, but I needed to tell my grandmother, clinging to a vague hope she might know what to do.
Odessa, thankfully, had her own room, so I didn’t have to put up with her glare of disapproval, but it did me no good since Bijou was giving me one of her own.
She reached up and snatched the gray wig off her head, startling me. Rubbing her bald scalp in an obvious gesture of absorbed frustration, my grandmother became Leonard Ledbetter, Savannah florist extraordinaire. My grandfather. In a dress.
He’d chosen a pink floral today, loose and flowing for comfort. Orthopedic sandals, big white bag. It really did look like there was some Atlanta sightseeing on the agenda.
“Tell me everything he said, every word.” Leonard sank back down in the chair, wig in his lap. He was wearing pearl clip-ons, which I found distracting. “I want to hear everything,” he said.
So I did my best to tell him, from Sammy’s strange reaction to Jimmy Boyd, to the way I’d asked for Crystal to be given another chance to choose between the Darkness and the Light. I even told him about the dream, though there wasn’t much to
tell—I didn’t remember anything except the garden. What I didn’t tell him—what I didn’t want to talk about—was the heat that flared between Sammy and me, white-hot, though I’d resisted. How my heart nearly beat from my chest at the feel of his breath on my cheek. How guilt and turmoil over it was eating me up inside.
If I loved Joe—and I was sure I did—how could I get so weak in the knees over anyone else?
“Why would I ever, even for a second, believe I could trust him enough to ask him for anything?” I said the words aloud, still stunned at the enormity of what I’d done. I’d asked the Devil for a favor, and I wasn’t naive enough to think he’d settle for nothing in return.
But I was still hoping. It had something to do with the dream…
“It’s the curse,” Leonard said, sighing. “The curse is affecting your judgment.”
“What curse?” I sat bolt upright on the edge of the bed.
My grandfather’s eyes were on me, but his mind was somewhere else. “Odessa was right. Someone has put the Evil Eye upon you. It will weaken you, drag you down.”
“What?” The word came out as a squawk. “You don’t really believe in that stuff, do you?”
“We must negate the spell. It will require the entire coven.” He was still talking, but more to himself than me. “Thank goodness I listened to her.”
The moment seemed surreal. Here I was, in the middle of the afternoon, sitting on the bed in an Embassy Suites hotel room, listening to a bald man in makeup and a dress talk about curses and covens.
I stood up. “Excuse me, but what the hell are you talking about?”
Leonard frowned, lips thinning. “Language, dear.” He stood up, too, moving to the mirror by the dresser. “The basket that was left on your doorstep.” The wig was set in place with one quick gesture, adjusted as he continued to talk. “It contained a ritual to reverse a curse, which the giver of the basket quite plainly believed you would need.” A final twitch, one more pat to his battle helmet of gray hair, and Grandma Bijou was back. “You had a terrible run of bad luck yesterday, didn’t you?”
I did a quick run-through of yesterday in my mind: missing keys, three traffic tickets, a broken toilet, uninvited guests, burned lasagna. No, no bad luck here.