“That’s seriously bad stuff, Belle,” Miri says. ‘You need to distance yourself from that entire situation before it gets you killed.”
“You too?” My mouth drops open. It’s like Miri is channeling Grandma. I can’t believe my ears. “I’m shocked you would suggest I abandon a friend in need.”
“It’s for your own safety,” she says.
I hang up.
Pull the lavender from my collection of herbs and spices, unscrew the cap, and take a deep, calming whiff.
I will not allow the differing opinions of my family members to get the best of me.
Placing the lavender back on the shelf, I go to bed early. Toss and turn until I fall asleep. Awake with a start to the sound of the phone ringing. It’s Luna calling. I don’t know how I know; I just do. My gaze snaps to the clock on my nightstand. It’s eleven o’clock at night. I jump out of bed and race to the phone in the kitchen. Pick it up before it can ring a second time.
“Hello,” I say, slightly breathless.
“Hello,” Mom’s groggy voice answers from the line in her bedroom.
“I got it, Mom. Go back to bed.”
“Who is calling at this late hour?” she asks.
“Sorry, Mrs. Roussard. It’s me, Luna. I apologize for waking you.”
“Oh, hi Luna. It’s late and a school night. You girls should be in bed.”
“Yes ma’am,” Luna says.
“We’ll keep it short,” I add.
“You best. Goodnight, Luna.” She hangs up the phone.
“I did as you said,” Luna whispers, as if my mom can hear her through the line. “I stayed indoors all day, hid in my bedroom. But the bokor was in my house today,” she says. “In my house! And he said… he said…”
“Yes,” I urge.
“He said, if I don’t take his offer, he’s going to kill my dad.”
Chapter Ten
Either she works for the bokor or her father dies. The call falls silent, and for a moment, the sound of the rain on the kitchen window resembles much more of a slam than a ping.
“No one is going to kill your dad. We’ll protect him. I promise you.” My words are saying one thing, but my mind is cussing a string of profanities and my body is quaking with insecurity.
“How will we do that?” she asks. “He’s like, one of the smartest, strongest magick men in the district, right?”
She isn’t wrong. The bokor, and likely his men, are far more experienced than our fledgling coven. We need the help of practitioners like John, Michael, and Grandma. But John is scared of Chuks the bokor, and Grandma has made her opinion as clear as a perfect crystalline quartz.
“We’ll do a protection spell for him, just like we are going to do for you,” I say.
“Do you think that will work?” she asks.
“It has to.” Because, if it doesn’t, I don’t know what we will do. I press my hand against my forehead and push back, flattening my kinky curls. “So, on Thursday, we’ll do two different types of protection spells for both of you. I’ll need you to bring something of his, something meaningful, along with a lock of his hair.”
“What do I do in the meantime?” she says.
“Try to keep your dad from leaving the house, if that is possible. Also, try to convince your parents not to let anyone into the house.” I tug on the phone cord, stretching to the point that the curls are nonexistent.
Luna sighs. “I’ll try, but that will be hard.”
“I know, but your dad seems to have a basic understanding of the trouble this bokor means to bring, right?”
“Yeah,” she says.
“Then he shouldn’t be that hard to convince,” I reason.
“Right.”
“Mirabelle,” Mom calls from her bedroom.
I groan. I hate leaving Luna under these conditions. I wish I could transport myself there and give her a big hug. Kind of like the way I transported us on the bike. But I honestly have no idea how I managed that.
“I have to go,” I say. “I don’t want to, but you know…” Mom is listening, waiting are the words I don’t say. Don’t expect they need to be said. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Okay. Talk to you then.” We end the call.
When I crawl into bed, sleep is the last thing willing to cuddle with me. Anxiety, frustration, nerves galore, but sleep… no.
On Wednesday, I move through my classes like a dog on the Fourth of July… jumpy as all get-out. At every loud noise or unexpected breeze, I jump, expecting to see the bokor there, watching me.
He never is.
James and Jeanna are quick to notice my jitters. Of course, I apprise them of the latest developments with the bokor, which makes them almost as jumpy.
When Jeanna, James, and I head for home, after the school day has ended, an all-to-familiar car is idling in the front parking lot. It gives me pause. Windows down, engine grumbling, the older model American car is too long and too boxy for my taste.
My brother Michael leans across the front seat, toward the passenger window and waves me forward. “Get in.”
Tightening my clutch on my backpack strap, I tell my friends I’ll catch up with them later and walk to the car, get in on the passenger side.
“Dare I ask what the reason is for this surprise visit?” I pull the door to a close.
“I wanted to talk to you.” He shifts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. Drives back across the front of the school. I wave to James and Jeanna as we swing past them on the street, and they watch us drive by with wide-eyed stares.
“Wouldn’t a phone call be easier?” I buckle my seatbelt.
“This is one of those conversations I’d rather have in person.” He turns the car in the opposite direction of Mom’s house.
“Okay.” I say the word slowly. My nerves clenching. “Where are we going? Did something happen to Grandma?”
“Grandma is fine,” he replies, keeping his focus on the
