“It’s safer this way. Chuks doesn’t generally come this far out so I have a better chance of keeping this conversation private.” He coughs. Clears his throat.
My eyes widen and I stare at Luna. Afraid to take calls in your own home? His fears are conspiracy theory level, and I don’t know what to make of that.
Is he crazy? Or does he have a legitimate reason to be fearful? I lean closer to the phone.
“You don’t feel your home is safe?” Luna asks.
“No. Not in the slightest. Chuks's influences are everywhere.”
“Who’s Chuks?” Luna mouths. I respond with the word “bokor.” She nods. Returns her attention to Uncle Andy.
“So, what?” she prompts. “Is he listening in on all your conversations? Has your house bugged?”
“Very likely,” he says. “I suspect that’s what slammed your dad onto the hot seat.”
“What?” Luna’s muscles tense. Her hand fists, tight. Draining her knuckles white.
“That’s why I am so, so sorry,” her uncle says.
“I got that,” she blurts. “But explain to me why you’re so sorry. What did you do? What do you know?”
A heavy sigh sounds through the phone, and if there weren’t miles of wire between us, I suspect we’d be tasting alcohol in the air.
“It’s because of me your dad got involved with Chuks in the first place. I got in debt with the Bokor and your dad stepped in to try and help me. Only, he ended up falling even deeper in debt with the man.” He pauses, takes a breath. “I never should have let him try to help. I should have taken the punishment. The punishment your dad ended up collecting on my behalf. I’m so sorry, Luna. I wish I could undo everything. Give you back your dad.”
Luna remains silent. Munching on his words or her internal pain, I’m unsure.
“Luna?” he pleads. “Say something, please.”
“I need a moment to process this information.” Her voice is brash. “My life has been something akin to a living hell this last month, and I’ve just learned you are to blame for that. And over what? Money owed? Is was money, wasn’t it?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer. “You are rooted at the cause of my dad’s despondency, anger and isolation, subsequent death and zombification.”
“Zombie?” he says, his tone tainted with incredulity. “What are you saying?”
“And now the Bokor’s ugly curse has swallowed my mom and forced her into the hospital.”
“I’m really sorry about your mom. I didn’t see that coming,” he says.
“You’re sorry about a lot of things,” Luna blurts. I bite my lip and gaze at her. Her energy is throbbing, a strong, chaotic pulse of red rage. I wrap my hand over hers, and her mood mellows and her eyes soften.
“I am. I really, truly am. But what is this about a zombie?” he asks.
“Didn’t grandma and grandpa tell you?” He remains silent, waiting for Luna to continue. “The same men that buried my dad Saturday morning, dug him up that very night. I saw it. Saw him. And he’s a zombie.”
“I had no idea. Oh.” It’s clear he moves the phone away from his mouth for a moment. Scratches and scuffs fill the void. “Oh no. I wish I could undo it all and return your life back to the way it was. I’m so sorry, little Luna.”
“Don’t call me that,” she blurts. “You don’t have the right to call me that anymore.”
“What can I do to try and make things right?” he says.
I sit back and silently gesture to Luna. There are things he may be able to help us with, and, if playing on his guilt helps us obtain the necessary information, I’m not above taking that tiny win.
“You can never make it right,” Luna says. My shoulders drop into a slouch, and a frown pulls at my face. Is she so mad at him that she can’t even bring herself to use him to get what we want? What we need?
“You’ll be trying for the rest of your days,” she continues. “I’m going to go after the bokor. I’m going to defeat him and restore my parents. You are going to help me do that.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know when I do.” Luna frowns and I sense the emotion runs deeper than the flesh.
“How?” he asks again.
“I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.” She straightens. “I know. I’ll call your house, and tell you I hate you. When you get that message, you’ll know it’s time to get to a safe phone and call me back.” He doesn’t argue with the chosen message method, or Luna’s choice of signal words. He simply agrees and takes down my grandma’s phone number.
“You know what else you could do?” she continues.
“Tell me. Anything.”
“Tell me everything you know about a living person being able to control or possess another human being.” She glances at me and shrugs.
Here we go, diving into the help-my-mom territory.
“There’s not much to tell, really,” Uncle Andy says. “It takes a powerful person to possess or control another, especially when they are still mentally coherent.”
“Not a zombie,” Luna clarifies.
“Not a zombie,” he confirms. “Generally speaking, I would say it takes someone on the level of a voodoo priest or priestess, possibly a bokor. Of course, there are some who practice in private and don’t share the full strength of their power with the outside world. Are you asking about a particular incident?”
“Maybe.” Luna’s response is blunt.
“Well, in any case. In order to open the recipient to their control, possible possession, the individual targeted has to give their consent,” he says.
“Who would do that?” Luna and I both belt. I throw my hand over my mouth in an attempt to hold back any further reactions.
Uncle Andy is quiet for a moment or two. I’m guessing my addition to the conversation didn’t go unnoticed.
“Anyone attempting such a powerful magick,” he whispers, “is likely already a master manipulator. They are going to get the consent they wish through an
