“Oh dear.” Grandma’s lips pull tight to the side, creating a pucker in her left cheek. She shakes her head and enwraps me in her embrace. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to plant bad thoughts in your head.”
“But what if, on some level, I’m right,” I say. “And Luna’s dad is still ensnarled in the bokor’s debt web?”
Grandma steps back, her hands held firmly to my upper arms. “You shouldn’t allow yourself to think about things you have no power to change,” she says. “I told you before, and I will tell you again, you’re best to stay out of any and all bokor business.”
“But Luna is my friend.” I pout.
“And her father made his own choices, likely fully aware of the possible consequences.” Her gaze into my eyes is solid and unwavering. I stare back and choose to keep any responses to myself. She glances over my black funeral dress. “Why don’t you go change. We can talk more about this later.”
I sigh, spin on the pads of my feet, and march up the spiral staircase to the third level.
On the third level, there is a decent-sized landing which has become Miri’s personal closet. A large room which serves as Miri’s bedroom. And another, smaller room where Grandma shoves all the items displaced by the home downsize.
Bastian is sprawled out across Miri’s bed, and she sits beside him, running her fingers back and forth through his fur. The cat appears to be in a state of bliss. His eyes are closed, and his purr can be heard from the doorway.
“I met an old acquaintance of yours today.” I drop on the bed, placing the cat between us. His eyes blink open, his expression one of annoyance. He’s not pleased with the jostling of the bed. I rub his head as an apology.
“Really?” Miri says, not looking up. She’s rubbing and rubbing Bastian, and I almost think I see a touch of orange glow along the end of her fingertips. Of course, that can’t be the case because Miri has sworn off all magick.
“Yep,” I say, choosing not to address any use of magick on her part. “A pale girl with black and red hair. Has fangs.” I lift my hands to the side of my face and make the universal symbol for ready-to-bite-you teeth.
Miri sits straight, and the color drains from her face.
“That bad, huh?” I say.
“Where did you see her?” Miri asks, then continues, not waiting for my response. “You should stay away from her. She’s bad news.”
Everyone keeps telling me I should stay away from things. My blood warms, and I sense the need to fight rising within me.
“She said something about humans, or souls rather, being used as batteries,” I say.
“Gross,” Miri blurts. “And freaky.”
“You think? Most everything about her was freaky,” I say. “She told me to ask you about the candle.”
Miri shakes her head. “The candle is just a stupid joke she played on me, before I understood what we all are.” She rubs between Bastian’s ears. “The real story involving her is the dark and skanky bar she tricked me into entering.”
“She tricked you into going into a bar… in New Orleans? Seriously, Miri? There are three or more bars per block in the French Quarter.”
“Slight exaggeration,” she quips. “But this bar was filled with people roleplaying as vampires. And they all got into their acts far too much.”
“Are you sure they were roleplaying?” I ask. If witches are real, why not vampires… and ghosts, and whatever other supernatural creatures have been questioned over the ages?
Miri falls silent, and a thin curved line presses into her forehead. “At the time…”
“At the time you didn’t know you were a witch, right?” I say. “And Mom had our heads all a muddled mess.” I wave my hands at the side of my kinky locks. “Now we know what we are and we have a demonized or cursed Mom locked in the bedroom downstairs.”
“True.” She nods.
Bastian rolls onto his back, exposing his belly.
“The girl knew about Caleb. I mean,” I fluster. “She didn’t say she knew about Mom’s condition, but she said she knew I had firsthand contact with Caleb.”
“Seriously?” Miri balks.
I nod. “And she wanted me to give him a message.”
“Which is?” Miri prompts.
“She wants me to tell him that his boss wants more batteries, .i.e., souls.”
“Caleb’s boss?” Miri asks. “Wasn’t that the voodoo priest?”
“Maybe?” I don’t really know. I wasn’t a hundred percent in the loop when the whole Caleb thing exploded. “Would that be the same voodoo priest with loose ties to the bokor?”
“How would I know?” Her hands fly out at her side.
“Yeah. I guess you wouldn’t.” my shoulders drop.
Miri’s brow pinches, and her hand flies to her forehead. Presses.
“You alright?” I ask, leaning forward.
“I’ll be fine,” she says. “I just sometimes get these ancestral deep headaches. They can be a real monster to wrestle down.” She rubs her temples. Blinks wide. “Do you think we should deliver the message to Mom and see what happens?”
“You don’t think that would be dangerous?” I jerk back and blink twice.
Miri shakes her head and releases a heavy breath. “Yeah. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. Don’t do that. It probably isn’t safe.”
“Yeah, I won’t.” I slip from the bed and glance over her. “You okay?” I ask. “How’s the baby?”
Her face brightens. “Nara is good. She just makes me tired a lot.” She rubs her belly and lays back on the bed.
“You should rest then,” I say. “I’m going to go downstairs. Continue my conversation with Grandma.”
“Okay.” Miri closes her eyes and appears peaceful. Bastian gets up, turns in a circle, adjusts his location, and curls at my sister’s side.
With a half-smile tugging the curve of my face, I return to the second floor and stand outside of my old room.
I shouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t tempt the bad, I think.
But, the curiosity. The need to
