“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
