“Her toxicology report is negative but her blood test shows that her organ enzyme levels are all over the map,” Deb said. “Aimee thinks Pia is headed for massive organ failure.”
“And you?” Sin asked.
“Nothing I’m looking at on her test results makes any sense. Some levels are up when they should be down, others are down unexpectantly. To be honest, I’m at a loss.”
“It’s Obeah,” Aimee responded.
“You said the same thing to me earlier,” Sin said. “What do you mean?”
“You remember me telling you about Obeah being mostly a healing art, what you might call white magic.”
“Yes,” Sin said.
“And I said that where ever there is light, there is also darkness?”
“Go on,” Sin said.
“Hundreds of years ago, when Obeah was first practiced, it was considered black magic. Those that practiced the dark arts were called ‘Shadow Killers.’ It wasn’t until recently, historically speaking, that Obeah became a healing art. Obeah has been outlawed in Jamaica because of this ominous beginning. It was thought that all the Shadow Killers died off many years ago, but darkness never can be truly extinguished, can it?”
“Not as long as there is light,” Sin replied.
Aimee nodded. “Every generation or so, an Obeah practitioner with enough power to handle the darkness comes along, and my brother is such a person.”
“Are you saying there something in Pia’s blood, in her system, that the tests are not picking up?” Deb asked.
“Not in her body. Not in her blood,” Aimee responded.
“But,” Sin said, prodding her along.
Aimee eyed them both. “My brother has taken her soul.”
Deb threw up her hand. “You can’t be serious.”
“I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I am very serious.”
Sin ignored the tit-for-tat. “Can it be returned, her soul,” she asked?
“It is written that there is one way. You must kill the one that cast the spell. With this.” Aimee reached under her robes and pulled out a curved blade with a ruby-studded handle.
“Again, you can’t be serious,” Deb said. “This is the twenty-first century, not a Harry Potter novel.”
“I think we have already established that Aimee is serious,” Sin said, reaching for the knife. She turned her wrist from side to side admiring the blade. “What is the blade made of?”
“Wootz steel,” Aimee said. “It has been in existence for a long time. It dates back to the fourth century B.C.”
“If that’s so, how did you get that knife?” Deb asked.
“Light and dark,” Sin answered. “Where there is darkness, there has to be light. If someone can wield the dark arts, then someone has to be able to extinguish the darkness. It makes sense that it would be Aimee since Onyx is her brother.”
Aimee nodded. “Oi chusioi Dios aei enpiptousi.”
“The Dice of God are always loaded.” Sin translated. “Ralph Waldo Emerson.”
Aimee continued in acknowledgment, “Before my mother died, she gave me this knife. Onyx had not begun to practice the dark arts at that time, but she knew.” Aimee’s voice trailed off to a breath. “She knew.”
“This is where I bow out,” Deb said. “I’m going to go check on Pia while you two talk about whatever this is.”
“Priestess,” Sin said after Deb left, “isn’t there another way. I know Onyx is your brother—”
“Was my brother,” Aimee said. “He stopped being my brother years ago. He’s already dead to me and my family. He needs to be stopped and this is the only way.” Aimee handed Sin the sheath for the blade. “It must be you that kills him.”
“Why?”
“Because, that is my price for saving your friends.”
“What are you holding back” Sin said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
As Sin watched, Aimee’s eyelids drooped. “I was my brother’s first victim. When I was barely a teenager, he did to me what he did to Pia. Not to that extent, but the same principle.”
“He took your soul?”
“My essence.”
“Then how are you able—”
“My power is strong enough to keep his at bay.”
“You still haven’t answered my question, Priestess. Why does it have to be me who kills Onyx?”
“It is written that the one able to break the dark-magic that has been cast must be equal parts dark and light. Good and evil. ‘Angel of Death,’ that is you.”
Sin felt a chill as she slid the sheath into her belt and hugged her friend.
“Thank you.” Aimee kissed both her cheeks and turned to walk down the hall when Sin stopped her.
“I’ll call you when . . . when it’s finished.”
Aimee’s lips edged upward in a sad smile. “No need. I’ll know.”
Sin heard footsteps on the hardwood behind her. “Sin, we need you downstairs if you’re able,” Fletcher said.
“I’m more than able. I was just finishing up my business with Aimee.”
“Mind if we take the stairs,” Fletcher said as Sin pushed the button to open the elevator door. “I’ve never trusted those things.”
“Talk while we walk,” she said.
“You left your phone downstairs. You received the text you’ve been waiting on.”
“And?”
“And, you’re not going to like it.”
53
Sin stared at the video on her phone. It was Onyx, no longer hiding behind the black glove, holding up a beaten and bruised Carmelita. A mixture of sadness and anger churned in her gut until she swallowed the sadness, letting the anger percolate.
She put the phone down and stared at those around the table. “Let’s discuss how we attack these bastards without harming innocents. It’s important to remember that the Black 6 have two other captives besides Carmelita. As far as we know, they’re holding Savio LaBarbara and Secret Service Agent Jason Sawyer. Their part in all of this is unknown, so I need them alive.”
Twenty minutes later, everyone was briefed on their part of the mission and the mission as a whole. “Two teams of five,” Sin said reiterating the plan. I’ll lead Team Alpha, Fletch will lead Team Bravo.” She paused waiting for acknowledgement.
“What about this big diversion you were talking about?” Garcia asked.
“The diversion will be unveiled in West Palm Beach. Any questions or comments.”
“Just one.”
Sin turned to see Deb standing at the bottom
