“What business is it of yours?” I shift. Lean into my hip and cross my arms.
“I was merely making an observation.” Her arms unfold at her side in presentation. “This is the hour of the voodoo priest. The hour in which the bokor also operates. Interfering in their business is dangerous and could get you killed. I highly advise against that. You don’t want to die at the hands of the bokor.”
“Because he’ll then own my mind and body, and I will never again rest?” My hard exterior softens, and I lean into the question.
She snorts. “Someone has been boning up on their bokor knowledge.” A smug smile curls across her lips.
“Or listening to their grandmother,” I counter.
Her brows lift. “How is your family these days? It has been too long since I chatted with that sister of yours.”
“You know Miri?” My back straightens and shoulders drop.
She laughs, a wicked, bone-chilling hackle. “We had such fun a few years back. You should ask her about it. Remind her of the candle.”
“What?” My upper lip curls back, and my stomach knots.
The too-thin, red- and black-haired girl laughs again. A deep, from-her-belly cackle. “You don’t need the candle,” she says. “You know you’re a witch. In fact…” She sways, swinging her finger like she’s conducting an unheard choir. “You know many things. I understand you currently have a direct line to Caleb.”
I jerk and my mouth pops open. How could she possibly know this? Only the immediate members of my family are aware of the current state with my mom. My family and Caleb. My gaze narrows on her.
“Could you give him a message? His boss would be greatly appreciative.” She folds her hands together and presses them down the front of her, accentuating her wafer figure.
“Me? Talk to Caleb?” I press my hand to my chest and feign ignorance.
She ignores my attempt. “Tell him the master requires more.”
“More?” I blurt.
“More batteries,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Tell him to make a run to the market.” I firmly cross my arms and steady my position.
“Souls, you silly child. He requires more powerful, energetic souls.” She lunges forward and sneers, exposing long, pointy canine teeth. My heart squeezes to a stop and my breath catches. Vampire!
Chapter Fifteen
With a blink, she is at my back, her hands on my shoulders and her nose at my neck. “You smell like a nice battery,” she says.
A small truck rumbles to a stop a few feet away. The toothy girl relaxes, pulls a breath away, and runs her hands down the length of my arms. A short, older man gets out of the truck, throws a curious glance our direction, and makes his way to the cemetery gate, keys in hand. He grabs the gate, and it swings open freely.
It must be nine o’clock. The cemetery is now open to the public.
The man pushes it open all the way and glances inside the cemetery, looking left and right. Turning back toward us with a perplexed expression, he scratches his head, shoves the keys back in his pocket.
The girl spins toward the old man, dragging me with her in the turn. “Did you miss the news?” she says. “There’s a service today.” She bares her teeth.
Clear understanding registers in the tightening of his muscles, widening of his eyes, wobble of his head, and the rush of his feet, carrying quickly back to his truck. He drives away, sparing us one swift glimpse before disappearing.
The sound of quiet conversation carries from the cemetery to the sidewalk. The funeral party is approaching.
A swoosh of wind blinds me. Encircles me. A whirl of black, tainted with a thin streak of red. “If you value your life, heed my words. This cemetery is not your territory to tread. Do not venture forth under the light of the moon for that is the witching hour of the death king.”
The girl vanishes.
I spin in a circle, searching. Catch sight of her a block up, walking away from me. She doesn’t look back.
The soft voices of Luna’s mom and another increase in volume. Walk my way. Suspecting that, when the family steps onto the sidewalk, they will turn left, head back toward Luna’s house, I walk the opposite direction, away from my chained bike. Position myself against the far side of the next utility post, using it for partial cover.
The group steps clear of the cemetery and turns away from me, as I had expected… hoped… counted on. Luna’s mom walks between two others. One set of Luna’s grandparents. Be it her mom’s or dad’s, I don’t know. They have their heads together in quiet conversation. The other set of grandparents walks beside the man I suspect is Luna’s uncle. The elderly woman clings to Luna’s arm.
As they turn, walk away, Luna glances back, her gaze zeroing in on my bike, still chained to the post just outside the cemetery entrance. Her gaze flickers upward, searching the surrounding area, looking for me. And find me, she does.
She turns back to her grandmother, whispers something in her ear, then turns away and runs toward me. Her family keeps walking.
Luna stops with a soft crash into the post. She clings to the opposite side and peers around the wood at me. “Tell me,” she says.
“I’m sorry I messed up your father’s service.” I drop my head.
“No. I know,” she says. “Not that. Tell me what you know. Why you questioned my dad’s death.”
“Did you check… before he was placed in the vault?” I rest my cheek against the side of the post. She does the same, and our faces are but inches apart.
“My uncle did. He said you were confused.” Her gaze averts to the ground. “The men are sealing the vault now, with brick and mortar.” Her head sways and her gaze rises up to meet mine once more. “But why did you even question his death?”
I flex my fingers on the wood of the post. My fingers are a mere fraction of a
