Cursed

Voodoo Nights - 1

by

Lizzy Ford

Prologue

Marie Toussaint moved as fast as her plump body would go down the street running between the Iberville Projects and an expansive cemetery located just outside the French Quarter of New Orleans. The early autumn night was chilly enough to make her shiver despite the gown she wore. Street lamps rendered the sidewalk well-lit while the graveyard and side streets were shrouded in darkness.

As a member of a culture that revered death and celebrated the transition of a person from flesh into a spirit, Marie normally felt comfortable – honored even – to be anywhere near the tombs of the deceased.

Except when she came to the city.

Evil lurked somewhere in the cemeteries of New Orleans, and it scared her more than the Projects at night. She dug through her pocket to grab a good luck gris-gris she created for herself, a chicken claw and cat foot bound with the hair of a loved one and blessed by no less than two magic spells. Comforted by the charm, she focused on the rhythmic clicking of her bone and wooden bracelets instead of the unwelcoming city around her.

By the time she reached the end of the cemetery, she was panting and ready for a tumbler of her favorite Sazerac. She licked her lips and slowed without stopping. She was already half an hour late for the secret meeting in the city with the heads of the other two Houses – families of ancient voodoo magic bloodlines.

She stopped to catch her breath.

Someone had begun following her at the bus stop and was closing in. Pretending not to notice, she silently asked the spirits to warn her of any danger, the same way they told her someone trailed.

She began walking again.

Rene. The spirits whispered the name of the gang member in a voice only she could hear.

“Ah. The warrior,” she said loudly, pleased. “He watches over me.”

She listened intently for a moment, wondering if he’d respond. Her pace was quick for her, but slow for a young man accustomed to prowling the wards and graveyards of New Orleans. He could’ve robbed her or attacked her or worse. But he wouldn’t. Not this member of the Loa Ogoun gang. Named after the warrior god, Ogoun, the LO gang was small and dedicated to voodoo. They were created in the wake of Hurricane Katrina to protect the core voodoo religion and its adherents when the city was thrown into total chaos after the storm wiped away most of the city – and all forms of law and order.

“I ain’t no warrior,” Rene grumbled at last. “How you know I’m following, Madame Marie?”

“The spirits protect them who serve well,” she said with a grateful look towards the cloudy sky.

The rugged gang member materialized out of the shadows lining the storefronts and apartment buildings. Tall and lean, Rene wore baggy jeans and a t-shirt with cap sleeves that left the tattoos on his roped forearms visible.

“You got almost all the Loas on your arms,” she said in approval. “Ogoun twice.”

“He’s my family’s god,” he said, pointing to the warrior god’s symbol. It was in the center of both forearms.

Any other day, she might try to convince him that the spirits really did want him to take his place as a warrior. Today, however, she was already late. She walked faster instead and saved her breath for the journey.

She spotted the Coffee Loa – Coffee God – a hole-in-the-wall café that specialized in voodoo memorabilia and African imports located at the edge of the trendy, touristy French Quarter. The door of the all night meeting spot was propped open, and the rich scents of incense and coffee rolled out onto the street. They reached her half a block away, along with the sounds of a jazz band playing in the club across the street.

“I could eat a horse,” Rene said, eyes on their destination.

Accustomed to feeding eight children and their two dozen grandchildren whenever they dropped by her house north of New Orleans, Marie kept a ready supply of treats in her pockets. She automatically reached for one and pulled out a small baggy, handing it to him.

He took it and held it up, peering at it cautiously with blue-green eyes the color of the shallow Caribbean water of her native Haiti. It was another reason she felt at peace with the reluctant warrior. He reminded her of a much simpler time from her youth.

“Mini-po-boys,” she told him. “Homemade.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “I never eat homemade no more. My mama’s too sick to cook.” He opened the baggy and pulled out the messy sandwich. Two bites later, he was done and sucking the spices from his fingers.

Marie smiled then turned her attention to the café. Instead of going in the front door, they went around the side, to the secondary entrance.

Rene opened the metal door for her. It scraped the cement below. Two doors were on the other side, though only one was visible to the naked eye. The second was protected by magic.

She went to the hidden door and pressed her palms to the cool cement. The spell that hid the door sizzled around her hands in warm, yellow flames. Recognizing her, the protective ward retreated, and the sound of a bolt being retracted filled the quiet space where she and Rene stood.

The door opened. The narrow stairwell beyond was lit by buzzing fluorescent lights. The walls and ceiling were made out of slate gray cement.

“Always feels like a tomb,” she complained and gripped the wooden railing. She stepped down, letting her good leg go first.

She heard the voices before she reached the secret vault under the coffee shop. The others were already present.

Marie descended the last step with a heavy sigh and reached into the knit purse hanging over one shoulder. It held more snacks for the grandkids and a collection of vials with ritual powders and herbs, small boxes containing mummified animal parts and other essential items to perform magic on the go.

The two voodoo leaders sat at a small table in the center of the room whose corners pointed in the cardinal directions. An altar to each House’s respective god was in three of the four corners of the room, and someone had recently drawn a protective veve under each chair. Homemade purification sachets in lovingly created silk pouches of bright purple and gold lined the room with one tossed under the center of the table.

She admired the sachets for a moment. They were the work of one of the voodoo leaders. Marie’s tools of the trade, plastic baggies and beat up boxes, were functional and far less pretty, much like her cooking.

Marie went to the corner dedicated to Papa Legba, the benevolent, powerful chief of the gods who was also her family’s personal protector. She pulled a squeeze bottle of cascarilla – crushed eggshells – from her bag and used it to deftly draw the veve of Papa Legba on the cement in front of the altar.

Kneeling in the purified spot, she closed her eyes and prayed to her deceased husband, her parents, grandparents and great-grandparents.

“Please grant me protection and forgive any offenses I made,” she murmured. Uncomfortable in the city at night with the people behind her, she called upon the spirits of the long dead, just in case she needed the added protection.

When she rose, she went to each corner, deposited puffs of eggshell powder into each then drew the family god’s veve under her chair.

The others waited in respectful silence for her to finish a routine similar to those the House leaders no doubt went through before she arrived. Only when she was ready did she look up at who awaited her.

“Madame Toussaint,” Rene’s uncle, Olivier DuBois, greeted her. He was tall with the polished, educated air befitting the man who bore the title of Assistant Police Commissioner. Well-dressed and middle-aged, he had the family’s blue-green eyes. “Welcome.”

“Welcome,” added Candace Igbo, a woman in an African head wrap and robe with a warm smile. She smelled of the café above, a sign she had been working in her shop before coming down.

“I apologize for the emergency phone calls,” Olivier started. “We’ve had an incident. The … menace we thought was gone has returned.”

“I sense the evil all around,” Marie said. “It followed me from the bus stop here.”

“I ain’t evil,” Rene objected.

“Not you, my warrior.”

Frowning, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.

“Rene, give us a minute,” Olivier ordered. “We need to talk about official matters. Go upstairs and wait for me.”

“A’ight. Candace, I’m grabbing some beignets or something,” Rene said.

“You’re welcome to any of our snacks, as usual,” Candace replied.

The gang member left.

“He is a good boy,” Marie said.

“He, his brother and their street thugs serve a purpose,” Olivier replied. “They keep our culture safe and secrets hidden. There are still parts of the city where police won’t go. If we can’t protect our own, how can our religion withstand another Hurricane Katrina, let alone other threats?”

“The religion is not as vulnerable as you believe,” Candace chided, her accent giving her words a pleasant rhythm. “People may die, but our religion will remain.”

“You and I will never agree,” Olivier said with a smile. “My family has been protecting the Original Three Houses of New Orleans for a few hundred years. We are the -”

“- First Families of voodoo,” Candace finished. “I’ve heard it enough times.”

“It’s a source of pride and responsibility. We are charged with covering up issues like those we need to discuss tonight and ensuring the continuation of our way of life.”

Marie watched them talk. Candace glowed with goodness. She was a mambos, a voodoo priestess who was gentle, wise and focused solely on healing magic. Olivier’s background was more like Marie’s: mixed. Having dabbled in black magic as well as healing, Marie found her place, but only after making a few mistakes she was still trying to right.

C’est la vie, she told herself.

It didn’t take long for her to tune out Olivier. Once he got on his soapbox, she lost all interest. She wasn’t there to be reminded how voodoo in New Orleans had withstood great challenges, from hurricanes to witch hunts to being condemned as a satanic religion, until the Original Three Houses went underground in the 1700s, long before Madame Leveau helped take the legitimate religion out of the mainstream circus it had become in the late 1800s.

No, Marie wasn’t in the mood. She pulled a small wooden box and her cascarilla out of her bag and returned to a spell she’d been working on for a week now. It had to be done by tomorrow, when her beloved grandson, Jayden, visited.

Opening the box, she withdrew the old, round dog tags that belonged to her grandfather and set them on a cloud of eggshells to work on.

“… because we are the original three Houses in New Orleans, each one representing a sect of our religion. African, Haitian, American, we are …”

He will talk forever, if we let him.

Tomorrow morning, she’d prepare the altar in the shed where she practiced her voodoo for the final ritual meant to give the dog tags her most powerful protection spell yet. Her collection of oils, powders and special prayers had grown over the years to the point where she doubted anyone outside of the high priests and priestess in Africa knew more.

If what the spirits told her was accurate, then her grandson was going to need every ounce of knowledge and powder she had.

“Am I boring you, Marie?” Olivier asked, tapping the table to draw her attention.

“Chatte brile pair di feu,” she replied in Creole. A burnt cat dreads the fire. Is creole french different than regular? Chat is cat in French. “I don’t never vote and I know you too well. You ain’t ever gonna impress me.”

Candace laughed. Olivier gave a slow smile.

“Okay. Onto business,” he said.

Marie put her project away.

“The LO gang is reporting two more murders like those that used to be frequent a few years ago,” he started. “Black magic deaths. The voodoo serial killer is becoming more active again.”

“The Red Man returns as well,” Marie said. “The spirits have warned me.”

Olivier shifted in his seat. “Last time, the Red Man came and left and then the ritual murders started. Both are connected to the curse, but the LO never found out why.”

“It is the foulest curse I have ever seen,” Candace murmured. “What kind of curse is beyond my skill to heal?”

They both looked at Marie.

Marie touched the mole between her eyes the way she did whenever she was troubled. Every woman born in her family the past four hundred years bore the birthmark; it made her feel closer to those who came before her. She worked on recalling what she’d been told by the spirits.

“It’s the return of the Fourth House, that which used to be one of the original families of New Orleans,” she said. “The spirits told me another member of the Fourth House has come. The Red Man follows.”

The other two exchanged alarmed looks.

“Your ancestors warned us about him last time. I don’t understand how the spirits of your family know so much about this Red Man curse,” Olivier said.

I won’t never tell you, neither, she said to herself.

“The tale of the Red Man comes from Africa, Olivier. He is known to be hungry, to eat his own, body and spirit and must claim who he comes for, or he will never leave. He pulls others into his curse, anyone in his way, even the innocent,” Candace said. “Whatever he was sent to do last time, he did not finish it, if he is returning. He was supposed to be a legend, a myth only.”

“He came when the Fourth House resurfaced in New Orleans last time and left when the serial killer claimed her life. The Fourth House is here again. We should just send its member away,” Olivier reasoned.

“No,” Marie said quietly. “It is too late. This time, the Red Man will not be satisfied with the girl. He brings great evil.” The images the spirits had shown her flooded her mind: those of a gorgeous young woman with the touch of death. Marie pushed the vision back. “Evil that will not stop.”

“Your ancestors told you this?” Olivier’s tone was hushed.

“Yes.”

“Marie, can we speak to them? Please?” Candace asked. She leaned forward, her brown eyes concerned, and took Marie’s hand. “Maybe there are things they told you that you don’t recall. Maybe we can ask them for guidance.”

Marie hesitated and looked around the dreary room. “The spirits … there are always some near,” she said. “But we should be outside, where more will hear us and speak through me.”

“This is too important to wait. Even if they only tell us a little bit more, we must know,” Olivier said. He stood and removed his jacket, draping it over his chair. “I’ll prepare the area.”

Marie frowned, torn about letting them talk to her ancestors. She feared revealing her family’s secret and exposing her beloved grandson, Jayden, to harm. The spirits had told her recently that his fate lay in a direction filled with black magic. The most she could do: try to protect him while he traveled his path and guide him to using healing magic rather than blood magic. It would not be long before he learned of his role in what was to come.

Soon, he’d meet her, the white zombie that plagued Marie’s dreams. A beautiful girl in her early twenties with blonde hair and light eyes. An un-dead girl whose spirit was returned to her even after her body was gone. Her siren song would draw the Red Man and doom everyone around her.

“Marie, we’re ready for you.”

Marie blinked herself out of her troubled thoughts and stood. Olivier had drawn a large circle with ritual powders that smelled of licorice and vanilla, along with other earthy herbs. In the center was a candle dressed with cascarilla. He stood on one side of the circle, opposite Candace. Both were barefooted.

Marie reached into her pocket to grip her chicken claw gris-gris for a moment then took a deep breath. She nodded and walked to her place near the candle. Bowing her head, she said a prayer to her family’s god, her ancestors and to the Christian god, whose teachings she still heard every Sunday morning.

When she was finished, she started to shuffle around the candle in a simple dance.

The two other House leaders began to sing quietly, Candace in her native Swahili and Olivier in French. Marie listened to their voices as they called to her ancestors to help them. They danced around her, near the inside edge of the protective circle. Their discordant melodies synced, and energy surged through her, a sign the spirits had agreed to help.

Marie flung her head back and readied herself for the blackness that always came when the spirits possessed her. The scent of the candle and potions filled her senses while the singing warbled as if traveling through water to reach her. She was fading, being replaced by a spirit.

The darkness came. It was like sleeping, except that her body was awake while her mind stepped away to allow the spirits to communicate in a language others could understand.

After a moment of pitch black, a vision formed. She saw the white zombie walking the dark streets of New Orleans with the grace of a ghost, dressed in a glowing white dress. She appeared to be following the Red Man, a mysterious figure in a maroon robe whose quick step soon outpaced the girl and Marie. With a flare of red, he disappeared from Marie’s dream, slipping easily out of her mind while the white zombie stayed.

The beautiful girl from the Fourth House stopped and bent over to touch the booted foot of a bum passed out against a building.

The man’s foot began to rot then fall a part. The deterioration crawled quickly up his body, consuming all of him, before he crumbled to a powder right before Marie’s eyes.

She stepped back, repulsed by the touch. She was able to use power channeled by spirits to kill small animals for sacrifice, just by looking at them.

But the magic she’d just seen was different.

The building the bum leaned against began to rot next, then crumble.

Everything the white zombie touched rotted and died: people, buildings.

Jayden. He was across the street, frozen mid-step.

As if she just noticed him, the white zombie started to cross the two lanes separating her from Marie’s grandson.

“Stop!” Marie shouted, chasing the vision in her dream. “You cannot have him!”

The zombie turned.

Marie stopped suddenly, afraid the girl meant to hurt her.

“Please! He is free of the curse. Leave him be!” Marie pleaded.

“He is both curse and prophecy,” the girl replied. “Just like you. Our families are linked and will remain so. There’s nothing you can do to stop me. Only the Chosen, Warriors and Devil can.”

For a moment, Marie was too stunned to talk. The white zombie had never done more than threaten her before.

The girl turned towards Jayden once more.

“Wait!” Marie said quickly. “Tell me – who is the Chosen? The Devil?”

“Good luck finding them.” The girl began walking. “Before I do,” she said over her shoulder.

Marie opened her mouth to speak or scream and warn her grandson.

She was wrenched awake. The external world was too real, too fast, and she crashed to the ground.

“Marie!” This voice wasn’t the white zombie but Candace’s.

Marie felt hands rolling her over, fingers digging into her thick neck to check her pulse. She was sweating profusely and exhausted.

A fuzzy face appeared above her. Her eyes focused once more.

“Oh, Marie!” Candace exclaimed. “How are you? Are you well?”

“Y…yes,” Marie managed. “Takes much … energy for the ritual.”

Olivier brought her water, and Candace helped her sit. Marie sipped the water, wishing again it was her Sezarec. She needed a stiff drink after the exchange with the zombie.

The two were quiet. They were gazing at one another, not at her.

“What is it?” she asked. “What did they say?”

“The Red Man isn’t the only danger. A curse and a prophecy,” Candace answered. “We can’t stop what comes. Only they can.”

“The Chosen, the Devil, the Warriors,” Marie said. What was the connection between the Red Man and white zombie? Why had she been after Jayden?

“Yes,” Olivier said. “Our salvation rests in the Fourth House that bears the curse and the prophecy.”

“What else?” Marie asked anxiously.

Candace’s eyes were filled with tears. “They said many will die. People we love. The three Houses of New Orleans will fall before the prophecy is fulfilled.”

“Unless we find those who can stop it,” Marie whispered.

Olivier nodded.

Her heart racing with fear, Marie could think of nothing except Jayden. The spirits guided her to protect him at all costs even while warning her that many would die.

Jayden was special. She didn’t fully understand why, but she had to make sure he survived whatever evil was coming. If it took her all night, she had to finish the ritual to bind the protective spells to the dog tags before he came to visit the next morning.

Chapter One

“Lookin’ good, Jayden.”

“Got your daddy’s rich-boy smile and yo’ mama’s good looks.”

“He dresses like a magazine ad.”

Jayden forced a smile at his laughing uncles and cousins. He was doing his best to hide his irritation at his mother’s side of the family. He gently threw the football back and forth with one of his uncles, not wanting to injure his uncle’s pride or aggravate the back injury that left him on unemployment.

“You get scouted yet?” another uncle called from the sideline.

“Yeah, by a few places,” Jayden said, grunting as he threw the ball again. “Nothing big yet.” He wasn’t going to tell them he entered his senior year of high school with scholarship offers from two huge football colleges, the University of Georgia and Lousiana State University.

“Maybe your daddy can make a phone call.”

The resentment was killing him. He recalled why he didn’t like coming to the family barbecues, and it was more than the rundown house north of New Orleans. He didn’t wish bad upon anyone, but he didn’t know how his grandmother’s house had withstood the hurricanes. It was the only one for miles that hadn’t been destroyed.

She’d probably tell me it was the spirits protecting her.

His eyes went to the good-sized shed leaning against the back of the house. While the men were out back with him, barbecuing, drinking and tossing the football, most of the women in the family were gathered within the shed, listening to his crazy grandma talk to the spirits of their ancestors and cast voodoo luck spells that never seemed to work for his mama. Her family was what his wealthy father referred to as ignorant.

Caught between two families that couldn’t be more different, Jayden was grateful he wasn’t more screwed up than he was.

A commotion came from the direction of the house. Jayden’s mother slammed the screen door open. She was arguing with one of her sisters. They both held glasses of alcohol and cigarettes. Jayden was too far to hear what they fought over.

“So much for being sober. She never been able to stick to anything,” one of his uncles said.

“Shoulda stayed with Jay’s daddy. We’d all be rich if she did,” another said.

This was the other reason Jayden hated the barbecues: his mother was a wreck every time they left. The sisters quarreled for a few minutes before the door of the shed was opened by the third sister in the family of eight kids. She waved for them to come inside.

Gritting his teeth at the thought of putting his mother back together again, Jayden caught his uncle’s latest throw and made a show of studying the time. It was close to noon, and he had to take his mother home before crossing town to his dad’s.

“If we don’t leave now, we’ll get stuck in a few funeral processions on our way out of town. It’s about the time when they start up,” he said, aware that at least two graveyards were between his grandmama’s house and the downtown apartment where his mother lived. “We’ll play next time, Uncle Tommy.”

“A’ight.”

Jayden flashed another smile and jogged to the picnic table area. He grabbed a pulled pork slider, tossed the football on the ground under a massive oak tree and headed towards the house. Dear god, could the elderly voodoo priestess cook! He wolfed the sandwich down and entered the house to grab his keys and wallet first.

The interior was in worse shape than the sagging exterior. It smelled moldy beneath the rich scents of homemade barbecue sauce and collard greens. The wallpaper had long since yellowed or peeled in many rooms. Grandmama Toussaint smoked like a chimney and burned her magical incense to the point that the house reeked. Worn, outdated furniture, filthy drapes, the scent of cat urine …

He paused to sneeze before snatching his belongings then leaving quickly for the backyard. Approaching the shed, he opened the door. A cloud of heavy incense engulfed him. Jayden wrinkled his nose to keep from sneezing again. He ducked beneath the short doorway.

The three sisters, his grandmama, and two of his great-aunts were huddled around a table with a few of his cousins. Wooden shelves lined the walls, cluttered by clay jars, hanging herbs, bottles of discolored liquid – some with unidentifiable items suspended in them – and mummified pieces of animals he’d never stayed long enough to identify.

Jayden hated this place. It reeked of death, despite the incense and cigarette smoke.

“You ready to go, Mama?” he asked.

The women at the table all faced him at once. Every female born in his mother’s line bore the same birthmark in the same place: a small, faint mole between their eyes. His Haitian grandmama said it was the sacred mark of Loa Loko, the voodoo god of healing and herbs from which the powerful priestesses in his maternal line received their powers of protection and healing.

Faced with a table full of women bearing the same mark, Jayden felt a little weirded out. No part of him believed in any form of magic, but the same birthmark appearing on three generations of women struck him as unnatural.

His grandmama’s round face lit up. Her eyes contained a wild gleam, and her grin was punctuated by three gold teeth and three white teeth. Her wide smile almost swallowed her face.

“They said you’d come!” she exclaimed.

He didn’t want to know who said he’d come.

“Are you mambos or grandmama today?” he asked, only half-joking. He’d seen one of her possessions before and planned on running the next time she started.

“Child,” she chided and stood. She was barely five feet tall and round, clothed in a purple gown with a matching headscarf. Necklaces and bracelets of bone and wooden beads clicked together with her movement. “I am always your grandmama, and I always serve the spirits. I have something for you.” Her accent was thick, her pronunciation of English words careful.

“Grandmama Marie, I have what you gave me last time. I’m good,” he said. Recalling the fuzzy … thing she gave him last month, he tried not to cringe as she maneuvered her large body to a shelf and bent over.

He looked at his mother expectantly. She rolled her eyes at his silent plea to hurry and put out her cigarette, leaning down for her purse.

“Your great grandpapa was here last week,” his grandmama continued. “He came to me in a vision and warned me. There is someone in your life who will do you great ill. I prepared a spell for you, my Jayden.”

“Oh, Jayden!” one of his aunts exclaimed.

“A protection spell,” his youngest cousin informed him. “Grandmama chose me as her apprentice. I helped with the rite this morning.”

“Great,” he said, scratching the back of his head. If this crap was real, grandmama would use her magic powers to buy a winning lotto ticket. He repressed a shudder at the surroundings that freaked him out. “Maybe you should become an apprentice for something you can get a degree in.”

“I know, Jayden,” his cousin sighed in exasperation. “I’m only in seventh grade. I can help Grandmama and study for school.”

“Here it is.” Grandmama Marie straightened and reached over the heads of those at the table to hand him a small box.

Jayden took it reluctantly.

“Open it!” his cousin squealed. She was dancing in place.

Jayden’s sensitivity to the feelings of the women in his life overcame his revulsion. He held the box away from him and opened it warily. His dread turned to interest. He withdrew the round, tarnished dog tags on an equally aged ball chain. He was forced to squint to read the name in the candlelit shed.

Rene-Baptiste Etienne Toussaint

“Grandmama, are you sure?” he asked, surprised.

His cousin hugged him. He wrapped an arm around her squirming body instinctively. She pried the tags from his hand and held them up for the rest of the women to see.

“He wanted you to have them,” his grandmama responded with a proud smile.

His great grandfather had volunteered to fight for the U.S. overseas during World War One rather than live in repression in Haiti during the U.S. occupation. The dog tags were a family legacy, one of the few pieces to survive a fire that occurred before Jayden’s birth. As much as he wished he wasn’t related to the people practicing voodoo, he was humbled by the piece of family history in his hand.

“You have to put them on!” his cousin demanded. She grabbed his arm and tugged him down until he yielded and bent. Solemnly, she placed them over his head, murmuring a few words in French he took to be a prayer to the dead man who allegedly wanted Jayden to have the tags.

“Thank you for … uh, protecting me,” he said. “I’ll take good care of them.”

Her eyes glowed. Jayden straightened and tucked the box into one pocket while pulling out his keys.

“And they’ll take good care of you.” His grandmama laughed, along with the other women.

Jayden looked down at the dog tags, amazed by the gift from the crazy woman in the shed.

“Jayden, you must not take them off,” Grandmama Marie said, growing serious. “Ever.”

“I won’t, grandmama,” he assured her.

“No, Jayden.” She approached him, peering up at him with intensity that left him unnerved. Her words were hushed, so that only he was able to hear them. “The white zombie is going to kill you. Your great-grandpapa will protect you.”

Jayden didn’t know what to say. He wanted to laugh. How ridiculous was this?

“Okay, Grandmama,” he said at last.

She appeared satisfied with the response. “You are the hundredth in our line. You are meant for great things.”

“I know, Grandmama,” he said. “But becoming a voodoo priest is nowhere in my future.”

She harrumphed and turned around, returning to the table.

“I’ll call you later, Mama.” His mother rose and kissed his grandmama then hugged her sisters, aunts, and nieces.

Jayden fled. He was out of the shed before his mother finished her farewells. He went back to the house and waited in the kitchen, preferring the scents of barbecue and cat urine to death.

“Mama didn’t get to tell me whether or not to go on that date,” his mama complained as she tugged open the screen door.

“You don’t need some dead ancestor to tell you dating a con is stupid,” Jayden replied.

She narrowed her eyes. His mother was tall and slender, her flawless, cocoa skin, large eyes and high cheekbones rendering her beautiful despite the abuse she did to her body over the years. She’d bleached out the family mark to the point it was only noticeable up close. Her looks had captured the attention of Jayden’s father, who married her after a whirlwind romance, despite the objections of his respectable family, one of the oldest and most prominent in the South, even before Jayden’s daddy made his millions.

“You’ve been sober for two years and haven’t smoked in one,” he added, eyes on the drink in her hand. “You remember why you’re supposed to stay that way?”

“Don’t lecture me like I’m a child, Jay.” She frowned at him then glanced at the alcohol, as if not realizing she’d been drinking.

Most days, Jayden felt like he was raising a teenager instead of being raised by a mother. Single and struggling, Cora Toussaint’s reliance on drugs and bad decisions had culminated in the incident Jayden would never forgive her for, the one that almost claimed the life of his little sister. He owed it to his mother to help her, even if he didn’t want his sister anywhere near her ever again.

“Mama, I need to talk to you about something,” he started, aware he’d agreed to come this weekend for a reason other than to see the family he had nothing in common with.

“I’m in no mood for it.” She placed the glass on the counter and led him through the living room.

About to press her, Jayden sneezed hard instead.

His mother gave him the don’t-be-rude glare, and he held his nose to keep from sneezing again. He’d never been so happy to smell the combination of cigarette smoke and unshed rain as he was when he left the house and reached the front porch.

“Yo’ daddy buy you that car, Jay?” Uncle Tommy asked from his seat on the front porch.

“Yeah,” he managed to keep his tone friendly, out of respect for his mother. “It was a birthday present.”

“Must be nice not to have to work for a living. Why’d you divorce him, Cora? We coulda all had nice cars,” his uncle laughed.

“Yeah. Well, good seeing you, Uncle Tommy,” Jayden said.

“You take care!” his mother said, hugging her brother. “Have Mama call me later.”

Jayden’s smile faded as he strode to the car. He didn’t want to drive to the barbecue, knowing he’d catch hell about the car his daddy bought him, but his mother’s car was barely fit for driving down the block. He wasn’t about to risk having to spend the night here.

The car was a sauna in the late, muggy Louisianan afternoon. Incense and smoke clung to him, stinking up the car quickly. Jayden turned on the air conditioner full blast, but it still took too long for the car to cool down.

His mother spoke to his uncle for a few minutes before trotting down the steps to the car.

“Oh, thank god!” she exclaimed, leaning forward to the vent. “Mama’s AC broke last week.”

Jayden bit back his response, that his grandmother’s AC was broken every time they visited. It just added to the misery of visiting.

“Well, we made it,” he said as he pulled away from the house. “You and Bess have another fallin’ out?”

“Don’t we always.”

“Pretty much.”

“Mama had some good things to say about you,” she said. “She says you’re blessed, and you’ll make it big.”

“So she read the newspaper about me being scouted.”

“No, child, that’s not what she does.” Cora rolled her eyes. “She’s got the divine touch. She’s been right about everything. Marrying your daddy, my divorce, you kids, everything.”

“Mama, if you made your own decisions about life instead of waiting for some dead relative to tell you what to do, you –” he started, his frustration emerging.

“Jayden!” she snapped. “Have some respect for the spirits of your ancestors. You don’t want to anger them, do you? You’re so much like your father. You don’t even try to understand …”

He ignored her lecture about ancestral spirits and other nonsense. He didn’t believe in magic and agreed with his father that such beliefs were ridiculous. Marie Toussaint’s crazy visions and weekly discussions with dead people made him cringe, but not as much as the faith the family put in them. He constantly battled their influence on his mother.

His mother finished talking. They were silent, Jayden brooding and his mother satisfied that he’d listened to her this time. As important as it was for him to talk to her about Isabelle, his eight-year old sister, he didn’t think his mood would allow him to be calm enough for the sensitive subject.

“Did you tell your Uncle Joe about the football scholarships?” she asked.

“It didn’t come up,” he lied.

“Aw. You know he had an offer when he was in high school? Turned it down. Huge mistake. I was hoping you’d tell them,” she said with a sigh. “They might not think me such a screw up.”

“Mama.” Jayden glanced at her. “You’re not a screw up. Your mama and I agree on that, if nothing else. You’ve made mistakes, but you’ve taken steps to make up for them.” Sorta.

“My little prince.”

His face grew warm at the motherly nickname. He hated it.

“Can’t even drive my car to see my own family.”

Thank god, Jayden said silently. She’d be in her mama’s voodoo shed every weekend, if she had a decent car.

He felt like he was seventeen going on seventy. He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Mama said you broke up with your girlfriend,” she said. “Did you?”

“Yep.”

“You see? She does know things!”

“Kinda obvious. It’s the first barbecue in a year I didn’t bring her to,” Jayden pointed out.

“She was a bitch anyway, like all the girls at that snooty school your daddy put you in. She wouldn’t even talk to Mama when she came. She thinks she too good for us.”

He said nothing. He loved his school, if for no other reason than it was the one part of his life that had some semblance of structure. A natural at sports and academics, he didn’t have to deal with resentment, his mama’s temper tantrums, his daddy’s pressure, or juggle the extended family when he was in class. He was almost normal for those few hours a day. Even better, he was allowed to be a typical teenager, something neither parent seemed to get.

“I did kinda like her, though,” his mama said after a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me you broke up?”

“No big deal, mama. She was looking for something more serious than…” he stopped, but it was too late.

Her eyes were narrowed again.

“Oh, you, Jayden Toussaint Washington, you better not have-”

“Mama, please!” he said quickly. “I’m seventeen. I don’t want to get married! I just want to be a normal teenager. Do normal things, play football, worry about what college I want to go to.”

“Just like your father. I thought I raised you better. You think life is so easy and you can fool around, cuz your daddy’s got money! I bet you didn’t even –”

Jayden sighed. The traffic into New Orleans after the last long weekend before school began was heavy. He bore through her lecture, knowing she spoke out of personal injury and not because she believed him to be the deadbeat jerk she considered his father. At least, this is what his therapist explained to him.

It took work being the only sane one in a family of lunatics.

It was two o’clock by the time he pulled in front of her apartment building in the slums of the Lower Ninth Ward, a section of New Orleans where damage from the hurricanes of the last decade was still apparent in crumbling buildings and structures plastered with health and safety warnings. His mother’s building had been gutted and the interior completely refurbished. While it appeared sad and battered on the outside, the inside was relatively new.

Jayden dropped her off then parked in street. For once, he was glad the elevator to the seventh floor was slow. Instead of waiting, he went to the stairwell. It gave him time to cool down and recover his normal high level of patience. His phone rang as he ascended the stairs.

“Hey, Jay,” the voice on the other end said.

“What’s up, Mickey?”

“You gonna be at the early practice tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” Jayden said with a grimace. “What the hell got into coach? Especially the first day of class. Half the team will show up drunk.”

“I wish I was one of them,” Mickey groaned. “Can I catch a ride?”

“Sure. Wait, another call.” Jayden glanced at his phone and hung up on the new caller. “Kimmie again.”

“I thought you broke up.”

“We did. She won’t stop calling.”

“Lame. Hopefully the cheer squad isn’t practicing in the morning, or she’ll corner you for sure.”

“I didn’t even think of that. She’ll definitely find me Friday at the game,” Jayden said, irritated.

“You’re too nice, Jay.”

“I was honest with her. She’s just not getting it.”

“If you have a new girl by the game, she’ll get the point. Take my advice: no more of this relationship crap. Girls always throw themselves at you. You could have a new one every week until we graduate. That’s my plan.”

Jayden snorted. “Too much drama. I got three sisters. It’s enough to deal with outside of school.”

“Tell them up front. It’s what I do.” Mickey laughed.

“Whatever. I’ve seen you trip over yourself whenever you see Tara,” Jayden said, referring to one of the two stepsisters he’d inherited when his father remarried a few years ago.

“God, she’s hot.” Mickey’s voice took on a dreamy quality that made Jayden laugh. “I tried to ask her out last week. Epic fail.”

“She’s like her mommy - not into white guys.”

“I’m the top running back in high school, which means I’m black on the inside.”

“You’re crazy, man,” Jayden said, entertained. He reached his mother’s door and paused. “I gotta go. Be there at five to get your crazy ass.”

“Alright. Peace.”

Jayden hung up. His phone rang again, and he saw Kimmie’s name flash across the screen. Any other day, he’d try to be polite and answer. After dealing with his mother’s family and being lectured about how crappy of a son he was all the way home, he didn’t want any more drama.

He rejected the call and walked into his mother’s cozy, clean apartment. She was on the phone. He didn’t have to listen long to guess she was talking to one of her sisters about the felon that asked her out.

Frustrated, Jayden grabbed his gym bag and waved to her. He hoped to talk to her before he left, but that wasn’t going to happen. He left her apartment and jogged down the stairs, emerging into the humid afternoon.

The white zombie is going to kill you.

Grandmama hadn’t said someone would try. She said someone would succeed.

He didn’t believe in this stuff, but her words added to his sour mood. Getting in his car, he cut across town to Interstate 10 and headed east, away from downtown New Orleans, towards the wealthy suburbs.

Jayden zoned out on the way home, nervous about his senior year of school. Soon, everything changed. His comfortable routine would be gone, and he’d be too far away to help his mother, if she went back to drugs.

He passed through the prestigious neighborhood in the Eastover Ward where his father lived. Huge houses were hidden beyond thick gates and tall trees. His father’s was located at the end of a cul de sac – the largest of the estate-sized properties on his street.

Jayden clicked the remote for the gate and drove up a stone driveway leading to a Georgian style manor house. He continued around back to the twenty-car garage housing his father’s precious antique race car collection and parked in the second garage built for the family’s daily commuting cars.

A massive garden punctuated by waterfalls was directly behind the house and ended at an expanse of closely cropped, green yard hedged in the distance by stone walls to keep out paparazzi and trespassers.

He was still considering his college options when he walked in the kitchen door of the stately mansion and through the quiet house. The scent of familiar cigar smoke tickled his nose, coming from his father’s study. He glanced through the cracked doors as he passed then stopped. His father was alone in the masculine study with its heavy wood furniture, thick drapes, and natural lighting.

“Hey,” he said, pushing open the door. “You have guests?”

“Waiting for you.”

Frederick Washington was a slender, tall man with stylish, rectangular glasses and a quick smile. Jayden’s chiseled looks came from his mother’s side, but his height and charisma he got directly from his father.

“Really?” Jayden crossed to the chair across from his father and sat.

“You look rough, kiddo,” his father said. “Not going to ask why.”

There was no open animosity between his parents anymore, though Jayden knew they weren’t on friendly terms, either.

“You talk to her about Izzy?” his father asked.

“Not yet.”

“You wanted me to wait.”

“I know, Daddy. Just … give me ‘til the end of the week. The last thing she needs is to be dragged to court over this. I barely got her together after her last incident.”

“Dolo toujou couri lariviere. It’s in her nature,” his father recited the Creole proverb. Again, different than regular French where the word would be toujours, I believe. “It’s not your responsibility to put your mother together.”

“It’s not my responsibility to babysit the girls every day either or go to their PTA meetings and soccer matches because you’re too busy being the black Steve Jobs!” Jayden shot back.

His father was unaffected by the outburst. “One day, they’ll refer to someone as the white Frederick Washington,” came the amused response.

“Whatever, dad.”

“You’ve got it good, Jay. When people see you, they don’t see your skin. They see your daddy’s wallet. You never had to deal with what I did growing up. Our family is respectable, but once was poor.”

“Mama’s family says I’m too white already.”

“Backwards, superstitious, and ignorant. White people aren’t the only ones who can get a good education. Still into voodoo?” his father asked.

“Yeah.”

“If it were real, they’d buy themselves winning lotto tickets.”

Jayden snorted, aware he’d thought the same earlier.

“They’d spend it all and end up back in the Lower Ninth. It’s how backwards people behave.”

Hearing the words out loud made Jayden aware of how harsh they were. He was embarrassed to think he’d thought the same earlier in the day, when he was itching to get away from people who were so unlike him.

“I don’t want Izzy ever exposed to that,” his father said softly. “You know why. You can handle it. She’s a sensitive girl with a good future. It’s in her best interest if your mama signs away her parental rights, so I can raise the girl right.”

“I agree,” Jayden replied, hating himself a little for it. He loved his mother, and it hurt to know she wasn’t capable of taking care of his sweet little sister.

“I know this is a lot for you to handle, Jayden. You got college, football, Kimmie, and now this. Why not just let me take her to court and you can focus on school?”

“Because it doesn’t seem right to take Izzy. Mama won’t negotiate with you. She will…might with me,” Jayden said firmly. “Daddy, she’s got no one to take care of her except those relatives of hers – of mine! – who are making her crazy.”

“If your mama wanted to change, she would. They don’t make her do anything. She’s as messed up as they are.”

A small piece of Jayden knew as much, but she was his mother! How did he walk away from her, after all he’d done to try to help?

“It’s not a problem, Daddy,” he said. “If my way fails, we can try yours. Besides, I don’t have Kimmie to complicate life, so I’ve got an opening for some drama.” He laughed.

“What happened with Kimmie?”

“She’s just too much work.”

His father regarded him for a moment. “Kimmie’s parents are wealthy and well-connected here in town. You’d make a great pair.”

“I’m seventeen. I just want to be a normal teenager. Date other girls without caring how rich their parents are or if they can help your company,” Jayden said, frustrated.

“I don’t want you to make the mistake I did,” his father replied. He considered Jayden for a long moment. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Just don’t lose focus. You’re meant for great things, Jay.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

His father was quiet, pensive to the point of troubled.

“What’s wrong?” Jayden asked curiously. His dad wasn’t one to dwell on the troubles of life.

“You’re right, Jayden. We do put a lot of responsibility on your shoulders,” his dad answered. “You can handle it all well, but it makes me not want to add to your burden.”

“How so? Are we broke?”

“No.” His dad smiled. “You’re probably not going to want to hear this. It’s one of the reasons I pressure you so much to excel.”

Jayden leaned forward, intrigued by the enigmatic response from the laid-back, technological genius known for wearing jeans and sandals to business meetings.

His father rose and went to his desk, retrieving something from the top drawer. It was small enough for his fist to hide it from view, and Jayden sat on the edge of his seat in anticipation.

“This has been passed down for four hundred years.” His father held out his closed fist.

Jayden glanced at him, unsettled by the grim tone. He held out his hand.

His father dropped an old skeleton key into his palm. At one time, the iron might’ve been smooth, but it was rough now, chipped and rusted, with a dark patina covering what remained of the smooth surfaces.

“I hope this opens a treasure chest,” Jayden said, studying it.

“Not exactly.” His father took it. “This is the family legacy, Jayden, a very dark, horrible, disturbing one. This key went to the set of chains belonging to the first slave our ancestor sold to the Americas.”

Jayden was silent, surprised.

“Once upon a time” his dad flashed a quick smile “about twenty generations ago, an impoverished man in Africa began selling men and women to the Europeans who needed slave labor in the New World. He started with his cousins then the other members of his village and soon expanded his operation to incorporate every village he could reach. He sold tens of thousands of Africans into slavery and killed those who refused to go. He became a very, very wealthy man virtually overnight, sought out by nobility and rich Europeans for his ability to supply human laborers and servants fast, no questions asked. There wasn’t an order too big or unique for him to fill. His sons and their sons – a total of ten generations – followed in his footsteps, selling our people into slavery until the Civil War.”

“You’re serious?” Jayden managed, not expecting to hear such news about his father’s highly respected family.

“Very. He became corrupt with power, influence and riches. His deeds are why no one in our family is named Charles. Somewhere along the line, he crossed paths with one of those backwards types who believed in magic, a woman named Brianne. An alleged curse was placed upon the family, so that every firstborn would die, until ninety-nine had been killed. They say he claims the lives himself. Then, after ninety nine, his penance would be fulfilled.”

After his bizarre dealings with his grandmother, Jayden couldn’t help but laugh. He understood the mystery and myths about voodoo – the tourists they brought in were what helped save New Orleans after the hurricanes hit. But that didn’t mean he believed any of it.

“I know,” his father said, relaxing. “That part of the tale, I don’t believe either. Though I will admit I’m glad you’re number one hundred. My older brother was number ninety-nine and died in a car accident. Got hit by a drunk driver that was certainly not a four hundred year old African.”

“That’s insane, Daddy,” Jayden said.

“Agreed. Your Grandmama Toussaint told me about the curse when I married your mother. Said her spirits told her, and our families were linked. I put as much credence into that as I do any of that superstitious nonsense. How she knew about the unfortunate family business, I don’t know.” He gave the key back to Jayden. “The rest is true, though. This key, the history of our family, all of it.”

Regarding it uneasily, Jayden didn’t let him self imagine who the first slave might’ve been or how many lives this key had condemned. Holding it made his skin crawl.

“I keep waiting for someone to figure it out,” his father continued. “Before me, my family never had national attention. All it takes is one person interested in tracing our roots back to Africa for the family legacy to explode. We’d be expelled from the African American community as a whole and publicly disgraced.”

“I can’t imagine what people would say,” Jayden said, grappling to understand how large and dark the family legacy was. Tens of thousands of lives four hundred years ago could have left millions of descendants today.

“All the more reason for you to pave a new path, the way I have, one that contributes more than our ancestors took away. I started, and you’ll continue.”

“Is it even possible to wipe away such a horrific past?”

“We are not our ancestors. That’s what will save us, if the truth ever comes out.”

“You don’t know that it will.”

“Some secrets are too bad to be kept forever. Your grandmama knows. Others might know, too, and are just waiting to blackmail me or humiliate the family. I don’t know. We have a lot of people watching us, Jayden, a good reason not to draw attention by giving them a reason to dig. Be conservative in everything you do. Don’t give anyone a reason to pry.”

“So I shouldn’t tell anyone,” Jayden guessed.

“It’s up to you. I did tell your stepmother. I think I’ll tell Tara and the twins eventually, so they aren’t blindsided when the truth comes out.”

Jayden said nothing, disgusted by the weight of the key in his hand. School hadn’t even started, and he was overwhelmed.

“You aren’t a technological genius, but you can still pave a pathway few black men have. Graduate first in your class at the academy. Get a scholarship to some big football school with a decent academic program and graduate first there. If you go to the NFL, you’ll be the first in this family and among the greatest black quarterbacks, because you aren’t just athletic – you can think strategically inside the game and in real life. If you take another route, you’ll find a way to be the best. You’ve got my ambition and your mama’s looks. If you remember why you’re doing this, you’ll always find a way to excel and contribute to our community.”

“Can I just be a seventeen-year-old who wants to play ball and date hot chicks?” Jayden complained.

“I wish it was that easy, Jay. We shouldn’t be paying the price for what someone twenty generations ago did. But his deeds can take away everything we have, if we don’t prove we are different.”

“Why did you pick today to tell me this?” Jayden asked. He rose and paced, wired with emotional energy from his nerve-wracking day.

“The timing seemed right. Every big decision you make your senior year will determine your future. What college you go to, how well you do in school, who you date. I want to make sure you understand that you’re a part of something bigger. Don’t make the mistake I did and knock up some poor, backwards, superstitious woman like your mama. Marry up, not down.”

Jayden nodded. He was a man now, and his father was entrusting him with the family secret. His gaze lingered on the key.

He hated it. It felt cold, heavy, evil.

“Keep it. That’s for you to pass down to your firstborn, along with the legacy.”

Jayden knew exactly where he’d put it: in the back of his closet, with the weird birthday presents his grandmama gave him.

“I need an answer this week about Izzy,” his dad added. “The injunction ends next Monday. I won’t turn my little girl over to that woman. I need to be in court next Monday, either with a signed agreement from your mother or with a lawyer filing a suit.”

“I know. I’ll do my best.”

“You always do, Jayden.”

“Thanks. I got a lot to do before school tomorrow.” Without waiting for his father to say anything else, Jayden left.

So much for this being the best year of school ever. No, while others were out partying, sliding through half their classes and touring colleges, he’d be stuck trying to right the wrongs committed by some long dead ancestor.

He trotted up the stairs to the second floor of the house and passed by the rooms of his two stepsisters. He paused in front of his sister’s room and pushed it open. It was nap time for the two younger girls, and the eight-year-old was asleep, clutching one of her many stuffed animals. The scar down one side of her cherubic face was barely noticeable, and the mark of his mother’s family was dark.

Every time he looked at her, he saw his own failure to protect her from a drunken fight his mother and her ex-boyfriend got into two years before. One of them sliced the girl’s face open. Even if by accident, it was something no good mother would let happen to her daughter. Since the incident, his mother had been under a restraining order to stay away from her daughter, one that Jayden’s father was certain to keep in place with injunction after injunction. Izzy still had nightmares about the incident.

His father was right. Isabelle could never go home to her mother. Jayden didn’t like the idea of hurting his mother, but he wasn’t willing to put his sister in danger again. The past two years, he’d dedicated himself to helping his mother through treatment for drugs and alcohol, only to admit he didn’t think her capable of staying away long enough to raise her kid.

Maybe this was the first step he could take to redeem his family’s legacy: save his sister.

Jayden retreated to his room. He flipped on the lights to his walk-in closet and went to the back corner, where he kept a box of voodoo-inspired gifts his mother’s family gave him for holidays and birthdays. He dropped the key into it.

“Good riddance.” He wiped his hand on his jeans then left the closet to wash his hands thoroughly.

It didn’t help. He still felt dirty after touching a piece of the family legacy.

“Jay!”

His step-sister, Tara, was his age and tall, gorgeous with light brown hair and blue eyes. She marched into his room without knocking. She was dressed perfectly as always in a trendy skirt and top, her feet in ballet-style shoes.

“Will you take me somewhere?” she asked.

“You ever gonna get a driver’s license?” he grumbled, wanting some quiet time after his stressful day.

She gave him her pouting puppy dog look, the one that always made him laugh. Jayden had too much trouble disappointing the women in his life to send the relatively tolerable Tara away.

“I put the twins down for naps, so you wouldn’t have to,” she added, referring to their two younger sisters.

“Fine,” he said, smiling. “You have to buy me ice cream.”

“Deal.”

“Where we going?” he asked, grabbing his keys and wallet from the dresser once more.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

“You only say that when we’re going someplace I don’t want to go.”

She grinned.

Jayden sighed and followed her out of his room and through the house, exiting out the back door leading to the garden. He unlocked his car and got in. The interior of his car was already scorching.

“Smells like incense,” Tara said, plopping into the passenger seat.

He grimaced and started the car. A glance at Tara revealed that she was texting, and he guessed this was the real reason she preferred for him to drive her. She rarely stopped messaging her friends. He doubted she’d be able to set her phone aside for five minutes.

“Where?” he asked again.

“Irish Channel.”

“Are you serious?” he asked, not wanting to drive through the throngs of tourists in town to reach a rundown part of the city edged by the Mississippi River.

“Yeah. It’s light out. No one will steal your car.”

It’s not my car I worry about, he grated silently with a glance at her.

Turning on the radio, he focused on driving while she played with her phone. He purposely tried not to think about what his father had just revealed and instead, thought about football practice the next morning. He drove back into the middle of town and hopped off I-10 to take highway ninety across the Mississippi River and into the Lower Garden District. The Irish Channel was on the rough side of the touristy district.

“Where next?” he asked.

Tara looked out the window to orient herself. “It’s supposed to be right off First Street.”

“Got a name?”

“Madame Estelle’s Psychic Arts.”

“You’re going to a psychic?” he demanded, fed up with the occult after his day. “Tell me you’re kidding!”

“This one is supposed to be real. Kimmie’s cousin went yesterday and said they have this new tarot reader who was like, crazy accurate,” Tara said. “Don’t you think this stuff is cool?”

“No, I don’t. It’s ridiculous. And this isn’t even in a nice part of town. No tourist would wander this far away from the nice part of the Garden District.”

“Who peed in your cereal?” she asked. “Oh, there it is! Park, Jay!”

He slowed, searching the car-lined streets for a parking spot. The only ones available were a block or more away.

“I’ll let you out and park,” he said, stopping the vehicle. “I can’t believe you dragged me here for this.”

“Ice cream, big brother.” She flashed a smile and got out of the car, heading towards the rundown storefront.

Jayden shook his head. He parked and got out, walking down the street past a few eateries and small shops. He paused outside of Madame Estelle’s, begrudging the unknown psychic for being the latest to trample on his patience. Brightly colored lettering advertised psychic services, tarot readings, and communications with the deceased.

Jayden walked into the shop and sat down in the empty waiting room.

He’d been accosted by magic from three directions today. First at his grandmama’s then in revelation of the family legacy. And now, he sat in a psychic’s shop, thanks to Tara. If he was remotely superstitious, he might think the spirits were trying to tell him something.

Chapter Two

Madame Estelle’s was divided into four rooms behind a shallow front counter. Each of the girls on staff had their own room that consisted of heavy black curtains covering all four walls and a table in the middle with two chairs. The two psychics had decorated their rooms in gypsy-like, jewel-toned colors with colorful rugs, fringe on everything, and candles.

Adrienne St. Croix was too new to have decorated her room yet, though she made another mental note to bring in something to fill the empty space. Sometimes she felt lonely, even knowing the spirits of her family and ancestors were crowded around her.

She studied the six cards on the table before her that had been drawn by the girl seated in the chair across the table from her. Reading tarot cards required a combination of understanding the symbols, interpreting the feel of the cards, and for her – translating the messages the spirits gave her. She combined all three to give the cards life and tell a story. Born of a long line of voodoo priestesses, she inherited the ability to communicate with the spirits from her mother.

But every once in a while, the spirits could be difficult. The story the cards were currently trying to tell her was more disjointed than usual. Four of them went together and presented cheerful predictions of a happy event.

Two sat to the side, their feel much darker to the point of being disturbing. The distance between the four and two was one of the subtle signs the spirits gave her. These two cards were away from the happy ones. They just didn’t fit the story the others were trying to tell her.

She chewed her lip.

“You look like you’re my age,” her client said. The girl had given her name as Tara, and she was well-dressed and gorgeous.

I wish you’d go back to texting, Adrienne responded silently.

The client was ignoring her request for silence yet again. She needed to concentrate, but understood repeat customers were always needed in a small shop like this, which meant she had to make small talk.

“I’m seventeen,” Adrienne said.

“Me, too!” Tara smiled. “Do you start school tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Adrienne clenched her hands under the table, nervous about the new school. She glanced around her room, wishing she’d thought to bring in her small altar to Papa Legba or something to hang on the wall.

“What do they say?” Tara prodded, her excited gaze on the cards.

Adrienne picked up one – Death – and Tara gasped.

“Omigod! What does it mean?”

“Transition. Death is the ultimate transition to a new state,” Adrienne said, gazing at it. “It means major change is coming.” She looked over the rest of the cards. She set the card down and tapped the one next to it. “Did you bring someone with you today?”

Tara nodded.

“This card ain’t yours,” Adrienne said. She placed the Death card aside. “This one ain’t neither.” She moved the Devil card over. “Sometimes, someone else’s energy sticks to you when you come in.”

“So you can read my brother’s cards, too?” Tara asked.

“Not fully.” Adrienne couldn’t take her eyes off the cards for a moment. They felt … wrong. Not bad, more like the spirits thought she needed to see them. On instinct, she drew another and set it beside the first two.

“He’ll totally kill me for this, but what do his say?”

“This is him,” Adrienne held up the Devil.

Tara giggled.

“It don’t mean he’s bad.” Adrienne rolled her eyes. “It means he feels trapped by something. This one means it comes from his past.” She held up the new card, Six of Cups, then the Death card. “And this means he is about to face change. Something really, really important is gonna to happen to him.”

“Wow,” Tara breathed. “He’s so smart and athletic. I bet he gets a scholarship or something!”

Not sure the cards are giving good news. Adrienne kept the observation to herself. The energy lingering around Tara wasn’t enough to provide her a full picture, but she suspected the cards were a warning of some kind.

She shook her head. “Okay. Onto yours.” She drew two more to replace the Devil and Death.

“Where in the South are you from?” Tara asked, showing no sign she was about to let Adrienne have the quiet she preferred.

“Atlanta,” Adrienne replied. “Just moved here to live with my daddy.”

“Cool.”

Before Tara could interrupt her again, Adrienne rushed on. “Your cards are real good. You have a lot of positive opportunities in your near future, to include making a difference in someone’s life.”

“Hmm. Boyfriend?” Tara asked hopefully.

Adrienne hesitated. “Not near term, no. These are more focused on your family and school. This will be a very good year for you.”

“I guess that’s good.”

Tara was beautiful and wearing gorgeous clothes that fit too well to come from consignment stores where Adrienne shopped. She didn’t seem like someone who had trouble with boys, unlike Adrienne, who had the issue of a family curse that was hanging over her. It made for awkward introductions with boys back in Atlanta, and she guessed that the guys in New Orleans would be even less willing to date her. People in Georgia just thought she was strange while the people here knew too much about voodoo for her to hope that they didn’t shy away from her if it came up.

“The cards are saying that whatever you asked them, the answer is yes,” Adrienne added, wishing her client understood just how positive the premonition was. She’d give anything to have a reading like this.

“Really?” Tara brightened. “I want to design clothes so I asked if I’d get the internship with Louis Vuitton.”

“Looks good,” Adrienne said.

Tara beamed. “You are awesome!”

Adrienne smiled patiently.

Tara rose and left, tipping her a twenty, another indication the girl didn’t have money issues.

Adrienne waited until the curtain closed behind her client then collected the cards, except for the three that were for Tara’s brother.

These she spread out before her.

“C’mon, spirits. Give me more.”

The energy was too faint. Shaking her head at the cards, she replaced them in the deck and reshuffled.

The cards stuck with her, though, throughout the next couple of hours.

When her shift was over at five, she ducked in to wave to Madame Estelle and then left for the nearest bus stop.

Adrienne walked the opposite direction of the touristy section of the ward towards the river. The air was heavy and still, smelling of one of the water treatment plants. Her nose wrinkled at the scent, and she was sweating uncomfortably in her long skirt and long-sleeved blouse by the time she reached the bus stop. A native of Atlanta, she didn’t yet know if it was possible to reach the Iberville Projects via foot, and she wasn’t certain she should try.

After all, people said there was a serial killer loose in the Projects.

Devil. Death. Six of Cups. She couldn’t stop thinking about the cards. They stayed on her mind throughout the bus ride that dropped her off forty minutes later at her stop at the St. Louis No. 1 Cemetery, near the Projects.

The sounds of a funeral were distant but clear, the blare of horns reaching her as she stepped off the bus. Her father lived on the exact opposite corner from where the bus dropped her off, and she began walking through the slums, lost in her thoughts.

The Iberville Projects had not yet been fully restored after the hurricanes, and she grew sad seeing the signs of the damage that still lingered. Sensitive to the spirits that still remained in the neighborhood, she tried not to let herself imagine the amount of people who had been hurt.

The spirits here were despondent, many of them lost. She didn’t need her cards to feel their pain and suffering. Many were trapped between life and death and had not been properly freed from their bodies through the dessonet rite practiced in the South meant to help them transition.

Their sighs and whispers were like music to her, a song too faint for her to grasp fully, but present enough for her to ache for them. They took her mind off the cards until she reached her father’s apartment building.

Pulling the heavy door to the building open, she entered a dingy lobby whose lights flickered and scent was that of must and mold. The elevator in the corner was semi-reliable at best. Most of the keys didn’t light up when pressed, and the ceiling of the lobby and elevator both sagged.

She crossed to it and waited for the elevator doors to open, entering the tiny space. Adrienne rode it to the fifth floor and hopped off.

She entered her father’s apartment and automatically paused to listen for signs he’d beat her home. The cramped apartment was silent. Tossing her keys in the bowl on the kitchen counter, she hummed as she went to her room. It was large enough for a twin bed, small dresser and not much else. A floor lamp lit up the room while the shades of the window that faced the brick wall of the neighboring building were closed.

She moved the ironing board out of the way, so she could get to her closet.

A few minutes later, she heard the front door open.

“Addy, you got a package.”

She had just finished changing out of the long skirt and blouse she wore to Madame Estelle’s when she heard her father’s voice. She poked her head out of her tiny room.

Grizzled and tired, her father had worked late today despite it being Sunday. He still wore the overalls from the shop where he was a mechanic and held a six-pack of beer in one hand. He kicked the door closed with his foot and held out a bubble mailer.

Curious, she walked down the shallow hallway and took it.

“You expecting something?” he asked.

“Not really,” she replied. Turning it over, she caught the small symbol in the corner: a snake and protective symbol of Papa Legba – the guardian god of the voodoo pantheon - that decorated her mother’s shrine back home in New Orleans. “Might be from Mama.”

Her daddy said nothing at the mention of his ex-wife. Adrienne returned to her room, where the ironing board took up the space between her bed and the door. After her shift reading tarot cards yesterday, she’d spent an hour on the pleated skirt of her school uniform and did her best to iron the wrinkles out of the white shirt. The more she ironed, the more accidental wrinkles she put into the shirt until finally she’d given up.

Adrienne plopped onto her bed and tore open the package, not recognizing the black leather journal inside. She was about to wad up the mailer and throw it away when she saw a small note inside. It was a familiar, square sticky note in pale yellow.

Keep this journal safe. Another symbol of protection was in the corner, a hastily drawn skull and crossbones.

She stretched for her rickety nightstand and opened the top drawer to pull out her Bible. She’d received two other notes like this one and hid them where her daddy wouldn’t look. The first she’d received upon arriving to New Orleans a couple of weeks before. It had appeared on her pillow one day. The second surfaced a week later.

Adrienne added the third mysterious note to the other two. If neat writing were any indication, they all appeared to have been written by women. Although it looked to be three different women wrote the notes.

She set them aside and opened the front cover of the journal. She gasped.

Property of Therese St. Croix

DO NOT READ!!!

Adrienne read the words over and over, unable to believe she held her dead sister’s journal. Therese St. Croix had disappeared five years before and was presumed dead, the first victim of a serial killer who had eluded the police for five years. He took a new life in the Lower Ninth Ward every month for the first year and then sporadically for another four years. The police claimed the serial killer was probably keeping his first kill as a gruesome trophy and insisted it wasn’t possible she was still alive.

Where had the journal been all this time?

Adrienne studied the bubble mailer closely. While the journal’s pages had yellowed from age, the mailer was new and crisp. There wasn’t even a postage stamp on it, as if someone had dropped it off at the building.

“Daddy, why did the mail come on Sunday?” she called down the hallway.

“It didn’t. Someone stuck it in Mrs. Hatchett’s box, and I ran into her on the way up.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Adrienne ran her hands over the journal, imagining her sister as the last person to hold it. Her eyes misted over at the thought.

Therese, the oldest of five girls, moved away to live with their father in New Orleans after the sign of the family curse appeared on her. Their mother hoped someone in New Orleans could help her escape the curse, while Therese had hopes of being scouted by the jazz music industry and earning a record contract that would help their impoverished family. It was a dream Adrienne shared with her.

She recalled how beautiful Therese was and how she could light up a room with her smile. People loved her, even the crotchety old ladies at church, where Therese sang weekly until she left for New Orleans when she was seventeen.

Although Adrienne was considered a better singer than Therese, the crotchety old women never accepted her. In all the years she’d been dutifully showing up Sunday mornings to fill her sister’s shoes, they had never smiled at her the way they did Therese. There was something special about Therese. Her sister had never been forgotten by anyone who ever knew her, and Adrienne’s whole life had been filled with comparisons of how much she wasn’t like her sister.

We shared so much more than our looks, Adrienne thought. Even knowing her sister had been dead for five years, she still found herself checking the mail to see if Therese wrote the way she had every week during the year she was in New Orleans.

Would Therese’s journal be filled with writing about school, boys, their father? It was marked with the year she disappeared.

Fingering the soft leather of the journal, Adrienne turned to the first page filled with writing.

The cover was black, plain, and the writing inside red. It was neat and feminine, interlaced with geometric veves. Like the rest of her mother’s family, Therese had been a follower of the mysterious religion brought over to the Americas originally from Africa.

Adrienne tried to read through the first page and frowned. Half the writing was in French, the other half in English. The words, though, didn’t fit together. Some letters were randomly capitalized and the sentences were nonsensical. The only thing that she was able to make out with any certainty was the protective symbols scattered throughout each page. Skulls and crossbones, crosses, and the veve of Papa Legba were carefully drawn.

“I’m sorry I missed hearin’ you sing at church this morning, pun’kin. You ready for your first day at the snob-school tomorrow?”

Adrienne jammed the journal under her pillow just as her father appeared in the doorway. His potbelly, drooping shoulders, and dull eyes were signs of how rough the past few years had been. He had been the most handsome man she ever knew at one point, but no longer.

“I think so,” she replied. “I ironed the daylights out of my uniform yesterday.”

“If it goes well, we can get ice cream,” he offered. “If you’re not too old for ice cream.”

“No, Daddy, I’m not.”

“I can’t believe you’re seventeen. I don’t remember seeing you grow up.”

Were his words directed at her? She wasn’t certain. His gaze was on the small shrine to Therese on top of her dresser. This had been Therese’s room five years ago, and Adrienne loved the idea that they were still able to share something more than their looks and ability to sing. They looked a lot alike: same white-blonde hair they got from their father and amethyst green eyes they inherited from their mother.

Therese had been athletic and tall, like their parents, standing almost six feet tall at the age of seventeen. Adrienne was tiny and preferred reading to sports. She barely reached her father’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you got the scholarship,” her father said. “It’s been a long time since I saw you kids. I told your mother there’s more opportunity for you here.”

“I know, Daddy,” she murmured. “It’s good to be here now. I missed you.” With a mother on welfare and a father who was a mechanic, Adrienne had only been able to come because of the music scholarship and her job reading tarot cards.

Money wasn’t the only reason she hadn’t come sooner. She loved her daddy too much to tell him that her mother still blamed him for the death of Therese. Their mother hoped New Orleans with its rich culture of magic would protect Therese from the curse afflicting the firstborn members of their family.

“Remember what I told you,” he said firmly. “Stick to main streets if you’re going to walk to school. No alleys and avoid the graveyard. And no walking after dark. If I’m working, one of the other guys from the shop can pick you up. Cops won’t come to the Projects and they gave up trying to find the psycho serial killer after the first couple of years. He pops up every few months. I won’t lose another little girl.”

She smiled warmly. “I’ll be fine, Daddy. My vocal practice is before school. I already done bought my bus pass.”

“All right.” He lingered in her doorway, eyes on the picture of Therese again. He said nothing further and left.

Adrienne waited until she heard the sound of the television turn on. She pitied him. He needed someone to take care of him. All he consumed was microwave meals and beer, and he seemed uninterested in life in general. Since moving in, she’d taken over making him breakfast and dinner and even packing him a lunch for work. She cleaned, too, doing everything she could to help him.

It’s not your fault, Daddy, she wanted to tell him. The curse took her sister, even if her inevitable death came at the hands of a serial killer.

Eyes on the mirror over her tiny dresser, Adrienne rose and crossed to the small shrine. Something seemed off about it this evening. Therese’s softball glove and ball, a songbook and a collection of school pictures were all that remained of the girl. The police hadn’t even found a body, which their mother attributed to the curse swallowing her daughter whole.

Adrienne pushed the thick strap of her tank top to the side so she was able to see the mark beneath it. At first glance, the discolored patch appeared to be nothing more than a birthmark. Unless one knew what it was. It was the mark of the family curse, a triangle of symbols: a cross, a misshaped skeleton key, and the number ninety-nine.

It appeared on her seventeenth birthday this past spring. Adrienne studied it, uncertain why she wore the mark of the curse when it had already claimed the firstborn of her family for this generation. Did her entire family bear the mark of the curse, or was there something more going on?

She rose on her tiptoes to make sure the veve she’d drawn with crushed eggshells under the shrine was still there. It was a little smudged, but present. She concentrated on fixing it then dropped back to her heels.

What was off about the small collection of items?

One of the pictures was skewed. She nudged it back into place only to see the pale yellow of another sticky note. Adrienne gripped its corner with her fingernails and pulled it free.

Free us. Find the key.

A chill went through her. “Free who?” she asked, looking around her room. “Or what?”

Was the key a real-live key or symbolic?

The smiling pictures of Therese didn’t answer.

Adrienne sighed. She went back to her bed and added the newest member of the sticky note mysteries to the group. She pulled the journal from beneath her pillow. She had seen too many voodoo ceremonies to be scared of a few supernatural sticky notes. Nothing was as terrifying as seeing her mother’s eyes roll back in her head when the spirits of their ancestors possessed her.

Who had sent the journal to her, if not her mother?

She flipped through its pages, pausing to study the elaborate veves. Some looked like they’d been traced while others were clearly freehand. Adrienne’s excitement grew when she ran across a page she could actually read. Instructions for how to slaughter and then prepare chickens for sacrifice were written in the same hand as the nonsensical words on every other page.

The recipe was the only passage that Adrienne could decipher. The writing was mostly incoherent, lacking punctuation and sentence structure. The wording was random and confusing.

Halfway through the book, she began to notice the strange sketches of a robed man in red. They were small at first, filling up corners or other blank spaces. As she turned the pages, the images became more frequent and larger, as if they were trying to muscle into the book in place of words. A symbol she didn’t recognize accompanied him: that of a cross splintered by a lightning bolt on the background of a malformed heart.

Who was he? Why had Therese drawn him obsessively? Why didn’t most of the journal make sense?

Adrienne glanced around. Her heart was flying like she’d just run up the stairs to her father’s apartment. She pushed the journal under her pillow. The unsettling image of a robed man in red stuck with her.

Needing a break, she went to the kitchen,. The garbage can was overflowing.

“I’m taking out the trash, Daddy!” she called over the sound of the television.

“Okay, honey.”

Adrienne grunted, pulling the overflowing garbage bag out of its trashcan. She tied it closed and moved towards the door. The television was loud. A peek into the living room revealed her father seated on the couch with another beer, the upper half of his overalls shoved around his waist to reveal the white t-shirt beneath.

He seemed to be in a trance.

Was it wrong for her to wish he took as much interest in her as he did in mourning her sister?

She left the apartment and eased the door closed. Adrienne walked down the hallway to the garbage chute and stopped short, seeing the pile of bags in front of it.

“It’s always broken,” she muttered. She’d taken more than one trip to the alley to toss their garbage.

She went to the elevator, pleased when it opened without any wait. It was seven in the evening on a Sunday, and the building was quiet. Half the numbers were missing from the buttons, and a panel in the ceiling sagged. Like the rest of the building, the elevator was worn down and falling a part. She got off on the main floor and managed to heft the bag over her shoulder.

Walking through the front door, Adrienne breathed in the humid air of September. It was mixed with the smell of exhaust and a recent rain. She walked to the alley and paused, recalling her father’s warning about being out after dark.

The dumpsters were about twenty feet into the well-lit alley. The streets were quiet, aside from the occasional passing of a slow moving vehicle. There wasn’t anywhere for criminals to hide, and she doubted anyone could tolerate the smells rolling off the dumpster long enough to hide behind it.

She hurried to the dumpster and struggled to lift the bag over her head. After a few attempts, she managed to shove the bag onto the lip of the dumpster. Another hefty push, and it disappeared into the depths.

Panting from the effort, Adrienne planted her hands on her hips and gave the dumpster a satisfied nod.

“Therese?” The man’s voice was low, smoky and close.

Adrienne jumped and whirled. She didn’t hear his approach from the direction of the alley’s center. He wore a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up far enough to shade his face. His hands were jammed in his pockets and his jeans dark. The shadows of the alley seemed to cling to him and obscured his form. He was tall, but that was the extent of what she could make out.

She stared at him, ready to run.

“Sorry. My mistake,” he said and turned away.

He was a few steps away before his words registered.

“My sister’s name was Therese.”

“Was.” The stranger stopped and shifted his head over his shoulder without facing her. “Why was?”

“She, um. Died. Five years ago,” she replied.

The man was quiet. He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe.

Adrienne looked him over, suddenly aware that she was alone with the stranger. Her father warned her about this. The man’s sweatshirt was dark red, the color of the robed figure in Therese’s journal.

Unsettled, Adrienne took a step back, hoping to be discreet when she put distance between them so she had a better chance of escaping.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said at last. There was terse emotion in his voice that made her stop. “What is your name, sister of Therese?”

The stranger was waiting for her response in a way that made her uneasy. As if it was far more important than she warranted it to be.

To give your name is to give someone power over you. Her mother’s superstitious warning returned. Be careful who you trust with yours.

Adrienne had never taken the warning seriously, until this moment. On one hand, it was lame not to give him her name. Everyone knew it. If her mother was right, then wouldn’t everyone have power over her?

On the other hand, Adrienne had seen strange occurrences while with her mother during voodoo ceremonies, most of which she couldn’t explain except that something supernatural happened. She had that sense now, that whoever this stranger was, he wasn’t entirely of this world. What if that was the difference between giving her name to someone normal and to someone … unnatural?

“Is your daddy still in five twenty?” he asked.

Adrienne swallowed hard. How did this stranger know where she lived?

“Do me a favor. Stay out of the alleys after dark. Someone like you can get hurt. Or killed. Or maybe just disappear without a trace. You wouldn’t be the first.”

At her scared silence, the man began walking again.

Adrienne watched him, feeling a chill despite the balmy southern weather.

Therese is a common name down south, she told herself. Still, she watched him walk down the alley. He turned the corner at the end and vanished behind a building.

Knowing her daddy’s apartment wasn’t a coincidence, even if guessing Therese’s name was.

Adrienne bolted. She didn’t stop running until she stood in front of the elevator, waiting for it to open. She hit the button a few times, scared for reasons she didn’t understand. Only when she was safely locked in her father’s apartment did she relax. She paused at the door, staring at it intently.

The strange encounter in the alley had to be some horrible coincidence. Maybe the guy got his car repaired by her father, and somehow, her daddy told him where he lived. Maybe five years ago, he was a neighbor who met Therese before she disappeared.

But the more she thought, the more she realized that there was simply no way the stranger in the alley knew her sister or where her daddy lived.

“Where have you been?” her dad called, jarring her out of her thoughts.

“The chute was overflowing. I took care of it,” she replied quickly. “I’m fixin’ to go to bed, Daddy. Kinda nervous about tomorrow.”

“Okay. Sleep well.”

“You, too.” She glanced into the living room once more as she walked down the hallway.

Her father was a zombie, starring glassy-eyed at the television. Adrienne saddened at the sight of him. The man she recalled from her youth used to smile and laugh. In the two weeks she’d been in Atlanta, he hadn’t smiled once. Had he been this sad since Therese’s death?

Adrienne returned to her room and maneuvered the door closed. She flopped onto her bed and pulled the journal free again, opening it. Would she find the mysterious man from the alley in there somewhere?

She flipped through the entire journal, pausing only at the drawings. She reached the end without finding the hooded man. Disappointed, she closed it.

“You’re so lame, Addy,” she told herself, rolling her eyes. “Even he said it was a mistake.”

She stretched for the pocket sized French dictionary in her book bag and rolled onto her back. She looked up a few of the French words in the journal. They made no more sense than the English words. Frustrated, Adrienne turned to the last page of the journal.

The entire left hand page was of a robed man in red with the strange symbol doodled almost absently into all the white space around the figure. On the right hand page was a short sentence in French.

Adrienne looked up one word then spoke them all aloud.

“He is coming.”

Beneath them was a cross with a skull and crossbones at its center surrounded on all sides by veves of the gods.

The journal ended there.

Adrienne closed it, pensive. She stretched to reach her sticky notes and read through them again in the order she received them.

I’m glad you’re here.

Be careful. He is coming.

Keep the journal safe.

Free us. Find the key.

All were written in different handwriting, but bore the same protection symbol in the same corner, the only unifying factor. They appeared in her room randomly, placed there by someone, maybe the same person who dropped off the journal.

Whoever left them wasn’t trying to scare or hurt her, though. If anything, the opposite was true. Whoever it was, wanted her there. Wanted her help.

“You should totally leave better instructions,” she said to whatever spirits might be listening. “This is kinda creepy. Just leave me like, one long letter instead of all them sticky notes.”

She tucked the notes into the back of the journal and replaced the dictionary in her backpack. She didn’t think her father would search her room the way her mother did, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Whatever was going on, it was important. She just didn’t understand why.

What is your name, sister of Therese?

The stranger in the alley scared her. Had she just run into the serial killer lurking in the alleys of the Lower Ninth or was he just some creepy guy who knew too much about her?

She opened the top drawer of her nightstand and pulled out the deck of oversized tarot cards she kept with her at all times. Her gaze went to Therese’s shrine. The deck had been hers and was sent back to New Orleans with the rest of her things after her disappearance.

With little money to spend on such things, Adrienne adopted the cards as her own. They were unusual, the backs of each one featuring a coiled snake, a sacred symbol in voodoo representing Papa Legba, the protector and head of the gods who communicated with the one true god. She suspected they were custom made for Therese, because she’d never seen any printed in such a high level of quality, certainly not at Madame Estelle’s.

The cards always reminded her of Therese and of the darker side of Therese no one else had known about. Only Adrienne had seen her sister kill animals outside the need for sacrifice. Therese had done it while learning black magic spells, which she once claimed was merely curiosity. As much as she loved and missed her sister, Adrienne also suspected Therese got involved in something she shouldn’t have.

The journal seemed to support her hunch. Therese was clearly influenced by magic when she wrote the nonsense.

Adrienne shook away her dark thoughts. She preferred to think of her sister as looking over her rather than dwelling on Therese’s interest in black magic.

“Will my first day of school be good?” she asked the spirits.

As she did every night, she drew one card to see what the next day had in store for her. She placed it before her then took a deep breath and flipped it over.

“The Star.” She smiled. “This is awesome.” The Star card normally meant a bright day filled with opportunity of some kind. She didn’t try to guess what, but she hoped it had to do with her singing.

Satisfied, she shuffled the cards and tucked them into a pocket of her backpack.

Devil. Death. Six of Cups. The cards from her reading earlier still haunted her, particularly because she didn’t understand why.

Chapter Three

Bright and early the next morning, Coach Higgins ran them until two guys threw up. Relieved they were able to stop, Jayden doubled over. A full head smaller than his six-four frame, Mickey barely looked winded as he stopped beside him.

Right about now, I wish Grandmama was right about someone putting me out of my misery, Jayden thought, panting.

“Grace wanted me to ask you if you’re over Kimmie enough to date,” Mickey said.

“What? Oh god, it begins again,” Jayden said. He straightened and accepted the water bottle Mickey held out. The early September humidity was made worse by the sunrise, a giant peach perched on the horizon. Jayden was soaked from shirt to socks with sweat. They’d been running for half an hour.

“Drills!” Higgins shouted. “Break up in teams. Washington, with the running backs. You’re too tall to be agile.”

Jayden rolled his eyes, but jogged over to the obstacle course set up for the small, nimble members of the football team like Mickey.

“Let’s dance!” Mickey said, darting and ducking invisible opponents. He pretended to score a touchdown and did his infamous Mickey shuffle.

Jayden watched, envious of his friend’s flawless footwork. Mickey’s feet didn’t seem to touch the ground when he moved. Jayden had superhuman reflexes but not speed, a combination he found frustrating.

“How tall’d you grow this summer?” one of the other players asked, looking up at Jayden.

“Four inches. Think I’m done,” Jayden said.

“Too tall to move like he should,” Coach Higgins complained. “You gotta be more active in the pocket, Washington. The defense can see your eyes now. They’ll predict you better, if you don’t learn to move faster.” He pulled out a stopwatch.

“I told you. Move faster,” Mickey echoed with a wink.

“Coach –” Jayden started to object.

“Go,” the coach ordered, holding up the watch.

Jayden jolted forward, not expecting the sudden command. He tripped through the first set of tires, eliciting a laugh from the more agile runners.

“Lift your clown feet, Washington!” the coach snapped.

Furious at himself, Jayden focused hard on conquering the rest of the obstacle course. He was panting again by the time he reached the end.

“Seventy-three seconds,” the coach called. “My grandmother can do it in half that. Again, Washington!”

Mickey was grinning as Jayden trotted past him. “Pretend like you’re running from Kimmie,” he whispered.

Jayden laughed and took his position at the head of the course. This time, he was ready for the coach. He shot off the line, concentrating on placing his feet and trying to emulate the easy dance that Mickey perfected.

“Eighty-one seconds!” Higgins said as he reached the end.

“What? Coach, there’s no way!” Jayden objected. “I was - ”

“Ready? Go!”

He bolted to the head of the course and started again.

“Sixty-eight.”

“Jesus, Coach, I think I need - ”

“Ready?”

Groaning, Jayden pushed himself through it three more times before the coach relented. He threw himself on his back, struggling to catch his breath. He sat up after a minute to watch the running and corner backs tackle the obstacle course. Each finished in under sixty seconds and made it look effortless.

“That’s how it’s done, Washington,” the coach told him. “Go throw the ball.”

Jayden climbed to his feet and trotted to the offensive line coach, who’d been a quarterback in five Super Bowls.

“You’re not that slow,” he said, smiling. “Higgins worries too much.”

“He’s … good at what he does, I guess,” Jayden said.

“You will be too, when I’m done with you,” his coach said. “You got a lot of expectations to live up to this year.”

Tell me about it. Jayden almost sighed.

“Forty push-ups, sixty seconds. Go.”

Jayden dropped. He pumped out fifty before the stopwatch sounded then sprang to his feet.

“Sprint, stop, whirl, throw!”

Jayden obeyed the commands, centered and focused with the drills in a way he never felt outside of practice. After twenty minutes, they started throwing the ball. His precision was flawless and had earned him the reputation of never missing a target. His increase in height gave him more torque, and he was pleased to find he could throw farther this year than last. Coach Higgins was right; his weakness was moving around in the pocket, staying on his toes and avoiding the attempts to sack him long enough for one of his RBs to make it into the open.

Mickey was his go-to on the team. The little guy didn’t miss a catch and could out dance any defender up against him.

They scrimmaged for the last half an hour, until Coach Higgins called for them to stop.

As they retreated towards the locker rooms, someone called out to him.

“Jayden, Mickey!”

They both turned to see the editor for the high school newspaper headed their way.

“Oh, god,” Mickey muttered. “You better do the talking. We know how these things go.”

“Hey guys,” the girl said, smiling. “We’ve been snapping pics for this week’s ezine. Any cool quote about what it takes to be the dynamic duo of football?”

“Sounds like we’re gay,” Mickey said.

She wrote it down.

“No, don’t …” Jayden gave Mickey a harried look. “Here’s a better one: it takes teamwork in all aspects of life to be successful.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You both headed to LSU next year?”

“We’ll let you know as soon as we decide,” Mickey said. “I’m partial to southern girls.”

“Partial to southern girls,” the editor repeated as she wrote. “How about you, Jayden?”

“I guess I like southern girls,” he said with a shrug.

“No, I mean, are you signing with LSU?”

“I haven’t decided,” he replied, flashing his famous smile. It had the effect he hoped for. She blushed and looked down at her notepad. “You’ll be the first to know, okay?”

Flustered, the girl nodded.

They once again headed towards the locker room.

“Do you think she knows you were quoting the teamwork poster in our locker room?” Mickey whispered.

“Nah. Notice how we’re the only two she ever asks for a quote, and she does it every week?”

“Yeah. Which one of us is she after? Both of us?”

“Maybe. I’m done with girls for now. I’m gonna focus on school and football,” Jayden said.

“I’d ask her out, but she runs the ezine. Can you imagine what she’d print if she got pissed?” Mickey shook his head. “I’d be afraid to break up with her. Then I’d cheat, she’d find out, and the scandal would be on the front page for like, months.”

“Don’t cheat,” Jayden suggested with a chuckle.

“Even better – I won’t ask her out.”

They bantered back and forth as they rushed to shower and make it to the cafeteria before class started. As they passed through the hallway through the arts wing, Jayden registered the husky, rich and warm vocals of what sounded like an angel. She was a cross between Eartha Kitt and Adele, a sexy purr that set his blood on fire. He stopped in place, surprised someone so talented came from the music room here.

“What?” Mickey asked, pausing a few steps away.

“You hear the singing?”

“Yeah. So?”

Jayden rolled his eyes. The door to one of the music rooms was cracked open. He retraced his steps to peer into it, even more surprised to see such an incredible voice come from such a small girl. She even looked like an angel: A petite blonde with porcelain skin and eyes so green, he saw the color clearly from across the room. Her features were delicate and defined, her skin tanned from the summer.

He waved Mickey down the hall towards him. Mickey grumbled about being hungry, but approached.

“Whoa,” Mickey said as he spotted her. “She’s gotta be new. I’d definitely remember her.”

Jayden studied her, as struck by her as he was the instinct she didn’t really fit in at a school that cost fifty thousand a year and required an endorsement from someone on the board. She wore the school uniform of skirt, white shirt, and vest, but it was clearly second hand. The clothes were faded and too baggy to fit her. Her nails were a cheerful pink, and her make-up subdued, just enough to give her bow-shaped lips color and her feathery eyelashes definition. Wispy white-blonde hair that appeared soft enough to touch even from the distance was in a ponytail that reached midway down her back.

Chances were, she was there on a scholarship of some sort, and he could easily hear why.

She was exactly what he didn’t need in his life this year.

“You’re looking at her the way I look at your step sis.” Mickey laughed loudly enough that both student and instructor glanced towards the door. The girl flushed, as if she thought they had the nerve to laugh at someone who sang like she did. The heightened color in her cheeks magnified the clear green depths of her eyes.

“Come on. We’ve gotta get breakfast,” Mickey said, slapping his arm.

His stomach rumbling, Jayden trailed him. The elite academy was small enough that he’d run into the singing angel again sometime today for certain.

They wolfed down breakfast burritos on their way to their first class. The adrenaline from the morning wore off too fast, and Jayden struggled to stay awake for the first two periods. He hit the Coffee Corner midmorning and bumped fists with the football players he ran across in the hallway. They all looked like they were dragging.

By lunchtime, he’d forgotten the girl, focusing his tired mind on surviving the day instead. He was out of it enough that he didn’t notice Kimmie until he closed his locker.

“Oh,” he said, trying to soften his surprise. “Hi, Kimmie.”

“Hey.” Three members of her cheer squad were lined up behind her. “You ignored my phone call last night.”

“No, I was dealing with some things with my mom,” he replied through gritted teeth. “You know how that can be.”

“So you couldn’t call me back this morning?”

“I had football practice at five-thirty.”

She crossed her arms, disbelieving. “Well, we need to talk. Homecoming is next weekend, and…”

Drama. The reason he’d dumped her.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the angel walk by. Jayden’s whole perspective shifted. He no longer felt tired or stressed; he felt invigorated and drawn to her. She was headed towards the cafeteria.

“…talk.” Kimmie finished.

Jayden had no clue what she said. “We’ll talk later,” he replied.

“Promise? After school?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Kimmie appeared appeased, and Jayden suspected he’d somehow agreed to more than he meant to. Her arms uncrossed, and she smiled. She moved away with her gang of cheer friends. Jayden waited until they were down the hallway before starting towards the cafeteria.

When he arrived, he saw the angel was gone again. She wasn’t in line at any of the trendy restaurants or seated in the food court area. If Mickey hadn’t seen her this morning, he might’ve guessed she was a ghost.

Disappointed, he went to his favorite spot and ordered. While he waited, he went to the soda fountains. Jayden turned to leave and smashed straight into the girl he’d been looking for. Her food went flying. She was headed for the ground as well, but he caught her against him with the instinctive agility that made Coach Higgins proud. Her small gasp, the scent of vanilla and French fries, the warmth of her small frame…

She looked up, her eyes even prettier up close than he expected. They were as flawless as the rest of her. For a moment, they were frozen in their own world.

Chapter Four

Suspended in the awkward position, Adrienne found herself gripping his vest hard, in case the arm supporting her gave way. His skin was the color of milk chocolate, his eyes warm brown. He reminded her of a magazine cover model with chiseled features, large eyes, and an athletic frame pressed against hers that was muscular and warm. Even before he flashed a huge smile, his charisma was apparent in his confident, sparkling gaze. Tall and strong, he held her whole body in one arm, as if she weighed no more than a doll.

“Hey,” he said. His baritone voice was naturally husky.

“Uh hey,” she murmured. She carefully pulled her feet beneath her, uncertain why her insides felt like they were shaking. Or melting. Maybe both?

He grimaced. “I think that’s your soda.”

She felt it then, the cold wetness of the drink crushed between them. It was running down her skirt and one leg. Humiliated, she pushed back from him. His grip loosened without letting her go completely.

Yeah, it was her soda all right. The front of both of their white shirts were soaked, along with the front of his pants and a strip of wetness down her skirt.

“I am so sorry,” she said. She gazed down at her lunch on the floor, dismayed.

“I needed the cold shower.”

Adrienne looked up, startled. Was he … was he flirting with her?

He was grinning. His dazzling smile held her mesmerized for a second, before her face felt too hot under his direct gaze.

“I, um, I can … buy you a new …soda,” she said. She started to the station that held the utensils, straws and napkins, only to realize he was still touching her. He drew her back to stand before him.

“No, but since I ruined your lunch, I’ll buy you a new one,” he replied. “My treat.”

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I was done.”

“It doesn’t look like you ate anything,” he said, his gaze on the mess on the floor.

“Yeah,” she murmured, admiring his features again.

“Then I’ll buy.”

She shook her head. Adrienne took a few steps back, slipped, and found herself clutching his arm. He steadied her.

“You sure? I feel totally lame,” he said.

“No, I’m okay,” she answered. “I’ll just go …um, away now.” She turned and hurried to the hallway.

Outside the cafeteria, she released her breath. She had no idea who he was, but he was beyond attractive. Not the kind of guy who’d ever give her the time of day. Not only was she probably the poorest kid in school, but people tended to freak out when they discovered that her sister was murdered because of a voodoo curse placed on her family hundreds of years ago. She’d kissed one boy at a party one of her friends had, but she’d never been held by a guy before, and definitely not by one who looked like him.

Handsome. Strong. Intoxicating.

Wow.

“Can I get your name at least?”

She turned, surprised to see him paused in front of the door to the cafeteria. For the second time in two days, someone was asking her name. She wasn’t certain why she felt a tremor of unease. After all, everyone at school would be talking about her after her embarrassing fall in the cafeteria. She didn’t sense the threat from this guy that she had the man in the alley.

Still, she hesitated.

“Come on!” he said. “I saved you from certain death in there! You were almost eaten alive by French fries. Just a name.”

She giggled, drawn in by the charismatic smile. She shook her head and whirled, all but fleeing down the hallway. Adrienne ran into a bathroom to try to clean up her clothes. Her hands trembled from the interaction. She felt silly – then devastated when she looked in the mirror.

She bought her two uniforms off of craigslist. Neither fit well, and she couldn’t afford to ruin one on her first day of school. She grabbed paper towels and dabbed at her shirt.

A flash of red drew her attention towards the mirror.

A robed man in red stood a few feet behind her, his face hidden by the depths of his hood and his robes rippling as if he stood before a fan.

The figure from Therese’s journal.

Adrienne’s pulse surged.

She whirled, only to find no one behind her. She scanned the bathroom quickly, but he was gone. When she returned to the mirror, she didn’t see him.

Maybe I shouldn’t be reading that journal before bed. She stared at herself, waiting for the vision to return.

“Oh no, what happened?”

She looked towards the open door at the familiar voice, pleased to see the only person who’d spoken to her all day. Emma was a pretty girl with honey-colored skin and large eyes. She walked with a pronounced limp and kept to herself in the first class they shared together.

“I ran into someone in the cafeteria,” Adrienne replied, forcing herself to relax. “Ruined my whole lunch.”

“I’m headed that way now. We can go together.”

“I’m not very hungry.” Adrienne’s attention returned to her clothes. She hadn’t expected lunch at the cafeteria to be twice what it was at McDonald’s. She’d spent her whole ten dollars on a cheeseburger and fries.

“I can buy, if you want,” Emma said.

Adrienne’s face was warm again. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“You look like you’re having a rough day,” Emma said. “Besides, you’re the first person who’s talked to me this year.”

“Really?” Adrienne looked up at the note of vulnerability in Emma’s voice. She realized Emma hadn’t been trying to take pity on her, which made no sense, since she was cute and slender, the kind of girl who had been popular in her old school. “You eat alone?”

“Yeah.” Emma’s face grew red. “It’s been like this since last winter. I um, got in a car accident, and people kind of don’t want anything to do with me.”

“That’s awful. But it’s not like it was your fault, right?” Adrienne asked.

“Well, yeah, it was. I was drinking after a Christmas party. All of us got hurt,” Emma explained. “I used to eat lunch every day on the school grounds, but it’s raining, so I can’t today. I have to go in there and face … everyone.”

“I know that feeling,” Adrienne said with a frown. Emma was clearly uncomfortable talking about the accident, so Adrienne steered the conversation away. “I went to the same all-girls school my whole life. When I walked in a few minutes ago, I was like, no way can I do this every day.”

“We can eat together on the campus when it’s not raining.”

“And today, we can face everyone together?”

Emma nodded.

“Okay,” Adrienne said. “You can buy me lunch today, and I’ll buy tomorrow.” She finished drying up what she could of the soda then walked with Emma down the hallway. Part of her dreaded seeing the handsome guy again. Another part of her prayed she would.

One of the things she didn’t miss about her old school: there were no guys at the all-girls Baptist school. She’d seen so many handsome boys here during the first half of her day and now, she knew what it was like for one of them to touch her. She liked it. A lot.

“What’re you smiling at, Addy?” Emma asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just … whatever.”

“Ugh, don’t look. It’s the stupid cheer squad.” Emma ducked her head.

Adrienne glanced up, curious. The six girls were slender and gorgeous, all in too-snug school uniforms with carefully manicured faces and hands. The sight of them laughing and talking made them almost approachable, if they weren’t so perfect. Adrienne glanced down at her pink nail polish. It almost seemed … childish compared to the fashionable colors of dark blue and maroon they wore. Even their eye shadow colors and lipstick were sophisticated. A cloud of expensive perfumes enveloped them.

She felt plain, ugly, with the clothes that didn’t fit and her chipping nail polish. Her vanilla scented lotion came in industrial-sized bottles.

“I wish I could look like that,” she said wistfully as the girls passed.

“But then you wouldn’t hang out with me.”

“Of course I would, Emma. You’ve been so sweet to me today.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Girls like that don’t hang out with girls like us. I know. I used to be one of them. Kimmie had to have her nose redone after the accident. She never forgave me and kicked me off the cheer squad.”

Adrienne sensed there was more to the story of why Emma was so alone at the school, but didn’t ask. She glanced down at herself, depressed to find herself agreeing that she at least didn’t fit in with the popular clique. She was too poor. At least the stranger in the cafeteria had made her feel good for all of two seconds today.

She searched the cafeteria for him when they entered, relieved he wasn’t there. His intensity left her speechless.

“I’m trying to keep at a size zero. It’s hard when one leg doesn’t work right,” Emma said. “You like salads?”

“Sure.”

Emma led her to the salad station, and they ordered. They sat away from everyone else.

“You’re here on scholarship, right?” Emma asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Sorta. We always hear rumors about the new kids before they get here. Whose daughter or son it is, who their parents are,” Emma explained. “When someone randomly appears, it screams scholarship.”

“Yeah, I was referred I guess. I got scouted in Atlanta. Went to one of them talent contests they have at the mall,” Adrienne said with a sigh. “Said I was good, but not what they wanted. One of them knew someone on the board here, and I got an audition with Christy for the scholarship.”

“Wow. You must be incredible,” Emma said enviously. “I used to dance, before the accident.”

“You have better talents. You’re gentle and sweet and nice.”

“Those aren’t talents.”

“Um, okay, if everyone was like you, we wouldn’t be stuck sitting in no corner.”

Emma laughed. “You’re so weird.”

“You see? You are special,” Adrienne said, smiling. “I’m poor, Emma. Real poor. But it’s made me appreciate the little things.”

“I want to be poor, too.”

It was Adrienne’s turn to laugh. “Oh, no you don’t! It’s plain awful!”

They ate quietly.

The talent scouts hadn’t wanted her, but she’d figure out how to break into the music scene on her own. This school and its renowned vocal instructor was the first step. The money she was saving from her weekend job as a tarot card reader for Madame Estelle’s Psychic Arts, located two wards over, was second. She had almost two thousand dollars scrimped away from tips and wages. When she had enough, she could put together her first album in the hopes of catching the attention of music producers. New Orleans led the jazz music industry.

The warning bell rang, and they ate faster so as not to be late to the next class. Adrienne got lost on her way back to her locker and ended up late anyway. She tried to cover the stains on her clothes with her books as she crept into class. Everyone stared at her, and she slunk to the only open seat, which happened to be right up front.

“Nice of you to join us, Ms. St. Croix,” the instructor said. “Class, meet Adrienne St. Croix, a new transfer from New Orleans.”

“Definitely a scholarship student,” one of the girls nearby said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Let’s start the school year with some positivity, shall we?” the teacher chided her.

“She crawled out of the bayou to be here,” another snickered.

“Swamp girl!” the girl behind her whispered.

They laughed.

Adrienne stared straight ahead. Once they heard her sing, they’d stop laughing. Even if she never really fit in, they’d soon understand why she was there. She leaned down to her book bag to dig out the gris-gris her mother made her before she left Georgia. It was a simple cross her mother had dressed with oils and powders meant to give Adrienne strength and comfort her when she missed her family.

The rest of her day passed quickly. In the next class, another girl made a crack about the scholarship status. Adrienne went to the bathroom twice more to stare into the mirror and wait for the Red Man to appear. Was there a chance he wasn’t as threatening as the journal seemed to make him? Did he know something about her sister’s disappearance?

He didn’t reappear and she suspected she’d been imagining things.

Fortunately, Emma was in her last class and saved her a seat. Grateful, Adrienne sat near her new friend, happy to have almost survived her first day of her senior year.

Until she saw how right Emma was about the rain. It was pouring before the final class was over. Dismayed, she hurried to grab her things then walked off the campus in the sticky, Southern downpour and waited at the crowded bus stop down the street. She sank back from the road into the crowd, not wanting any of her classmates to see her and have yet another reason to ridicule her.

The bus was packed, and she didn’t get to her stop until almost five o’clock.

Rain greeted her when she reached the sidewalk. Adrienne glanced up, hoping her iPad didn’t get ruined. The money she was saving was to help her produce her own album, not replace her school-issued iPad every time it rained.

The bus let her off on the backside, far corner of the block where her father’s apartment building was located. No matter which way she went, she’d have an equal distance to go around the block. She hurried down the street.

She kept close to the buildings in the hope of hiding beneath awnings from the rain and skirting clumps of people taking refuge. Trotting past the alley acting as a short cut through the block, she reached the opposite sidewalk and paused.

If she went through, she’d end up right at her dad’s building. If she continued, she had to finish circling the block. Her eyes settled on the familiar garbage dumpster near the other end of the alley. A few bums were huddled in soaked boxes or beneath rain ponchos, but none of them appeared to be a threat.

Wet iPad or run through the alley? She asked herself.

She started down the alley at a jog. When she reached the center, she slowed some, glancing around. The rain had faded to a drizzle. She expected the guy in the red sweatshirt to appear out of thin air.

He didn’t.

Was she relieved, or did she want to see him? To ask him what he knew about her sister? In daylight, he wouldn’t be as scary. At least, she hoped he wouldn’t.

Adrienne reached the dumpster and paused again, glancing back.

Her heart leapt, and she stifled a cry of surprise.

He was there, where he’d been the night before, his features still hidden beneath a hood. Without the night to play tricks on her eyes, she was able to see his form this time. He was tall and strong, wearing the same baggy, dark jeans and red sweatshirt.

“Your daddy should’ve told you to stay out of the alleys,” he told her.

Adrienne clutched her purse to her chest, uncertain how to take his words. They were more of an observation than a threat. Hopefully, that meant he wasn’t the neighborhood serial killer.

“I’m sorry,” she said, glancing around. It was possible he lived there with the other bums, though she saw no makeshift shelters at this end of the alley. “I wanted to ask you how you knew my sister.”

“Why do you think I knew her?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “You knew her name. I thought maybe …”

He turned away as he had last night and began walking.

“Wait!” she called. “Will you at least tell me if you did know her?”

“Give me your name, sister of Therese.”

Adrienne swallowed hard.

He waited.

“Adrienne,” she whispered. “Adrienne St. Croix.”

“Yes, I knew her. Briefly.”

Emotion surged within her. Unable to sort through it, Adrienne was lost in her thoughts for a few seconds. His movement pulled her free.

“Wait!” she repeated. “Who are you? How did you know her? Did she -”

“One question, Adrienne,” he replied. “Which do you want me to answer?”

She thought furiously. Of all the things she wanted to know, she also feared learning the truth. What if her sister had been involved in something bad? Or died horribly? Was she ready to know?

“Your name,” she said.

“Jacques. People around here call me Jax.”

Jax. She’d look him up in Therese’s journal.

“How well did you know her?” she asked.

“Why?”

“I’m curious. It’d be real nice to know she had friends or something when she was here. Sometimes I think … well, I mean, they didn’t find no body.”

Jax faced her once more. “Don’t you go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“But she’s my sister.”

“Why you asking me all this? Did … someone contact you?”

“No. Like who?” she asked. “Police?”

“They have no idea what goes on around here.” Jax chuckled. “Listen, sister of Therese. These are my streets. Nothing happens that I don’t now about, and I determines what happens to people who don’t listen to me. I don’t want to hear of you asking these kinds of questions. You hear me?”

She swallowed hard.

“Do you?” he demanded.

She nodded.

“What happened to your sister is none of your business.” He turned away and began walking once more.

“I miss her,” she murmured.

“She didn’t die, Adrienne,” he replied without stopping. “Be a good girl and drop it.”

Taken aback, she watched him walk the length of the alley the way he had last night.

She’d been to Therese’s funeral, which they’d held in New Orleans. Even if she didn’t recall much about her eldest sister, the funeral was emblazoned in her memory. The transition to spirithood was a time to celebrate among the voodoo community, and there was no funeral procession like one in New Orleans. She’d been in awe of the days of magical rites honoring ancestors and gods, and the colorful, musical procession to the graveyard that featured a band of horns and the presence of every family member and friend they’d ever met. They’d had leftovers of flavorful Creole food for weeks.

Maybe Jax didn’t know her sister after all.

Except that his words only confirmed the instinct that grew more insistent by the day. There was a reason she was receiving mysterious sticky notes and her sister’s journal. She was meant to dig into her sister’s disappearance, perhaps to prevent her own fate at the hands of the curse.

She didn’t die. What if Jax spoke the truth? Was this why the mark of the curse was on Adrienne’s shoulder?

Adrienne hurried inside, itching to read the journal for any mention of him.

Her father was home early, sitting on the couch with a beer. He wore his work pants from the mechanic shop and a white t-shirt. The two-bedroom apartment was cluttered and filled with oversized furniture that made it feel even smaller, and his legs were slung over the wide coffee table splitting the space between the couch and television stand.

“Rough day, Daddy?” she called as she walked in. She dropped her book bag near the door.

“Your mother called me at work about child support. I’m working double time now. Gonna have to get another job to pay for the kids.”

“That sucks.”

“I’m doing my best, pun’kin.”

Adrienne went to the kitchen to start dinner. She put a pot of water on the stove before running to change out of her wet clothes. Upon returning, she picked up the phone from the counter. There was no dial tone.

“Um, Daddy, did you pay the phone bill?”

“Nah. I had to cut out some things last month.”

“Omigod, dad!” she exclaimed. “I have friends! How am I supposed to talk to them and remind Lilian when to give Mama her meds? What if I get a boyfriend?”

“Tell your mama to put you on her cell plan. Probably cheaper than my monthly bill. Don’t they give out phones for free now anyway?”

Adrienne ignored him, wishing he’d consider her every once in a while. She took care of him and even chipped in for groceries.

Then again, he was sending the extra money to her mother to help support the three sisters Adrienne left behind in Atlanta. Was she being selfish?

She tied her hair back and checked the pot on the stove.

Her dad moved to the doorway, frowning. “You have a boyfriend already?”

“No, Daddy.”

With a sigh, he sat down at the cramped table in the kitchen. Adrienne handed him a new beer then set out their plates.

“I can’t believe you’re seventeen,” he mumbled. “You should have a boyfriend. But I don’t want you to. This is what they call denial.”

“Oh, god. Have you been reading one of them self-help books again?” she asked with a smile.

“Them self-help books say not to drink,” he pointed out and lifted his beer. “You’re beautiful, Adrienne, almost as pretty as Therese. You should have a boyfriend.”

She rolled her eyes at him again.

“Just don’t get knocked up. Remember your dating rules.”

“No dating anyone with darker skin than mine. That’d be racist, Daddy.”

“Read the stats. Most black boys end up in prison as criminals. They get no education and will use you for money.”

“I don’t have no money,” she said. “You’re still bitter about the War of Northern Aggression, Daddy. My generation is way beyond that.” Her thoughts went to the guy from the cafeteria. He was way too good looking to be interested in someone like her anyway. But if he were …

“I met someone.”

She whirled, surprised. “Who? Where?” she demanded.

“Her name’s Candace. She brought her car into the shop a month ago and came back to pick it up today. Real pretty. Her family owns a coffee shop.”

He was in a good mood, a rare occurrence from her experience living with him the past two weeks. Adrienne was burning to know more about her oldest sister. She’d always feared asking her daddy anything. A glance at the smile on his face made her think he might humor her.

“Daddy,” she started. “What happened the day Therese disappeared?”

The glow left his eyes. His features grew shuttered, and for a long moment, he was still enough to be a statue. Finally, he responded.

“Don’t never ask me about that, Adrienne.”

She swallowed hard, disappointed and upset she’d caused him pain. She turned away and dropped macaroni into the boiling pot.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she whispered. “I miss her.”

“You should know better than to talk about such a thing.”

“I know, Daddy.” Adrienne cleared her throat and watched the pasta swirl in the pot. After a tense moment, she changed the subject. “So…what’s Candace like?”

“She’s special,” he replied. He had recovered from her question, though the glow in his eyes hadn’t yet returned. “Real special.”

“Pretty?”

“Beautiful.”

Smiling, Adrienne drained the macaroni in the sink with a glance in his direction. “You really like this Candace lady?”

“Yeah.” He was thoughtful. “It’s the first time I’ve felt…good. Just talking to her.”

“Daddy, that’s wonderful,” Adrienne said. “Really. Are you going on a date?”

“Lunch date tomorrow.” A slow smile crossed his face, something she hadn’t seen in too long. “We might go out this weekend, too.”

“Can I meet her?”

He hesitated. “I’m protective of my little girl. It might be too early.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be.”

“Omigod.” She mixed in the cheese powder, butter and milk, making his favorite meal of mac’ n’ cheese from a box. He was easy to please, and she was starving after the salad she had for lunch. “You want chips?”

“Yeah.”

Adrienne crossed to the tiny pantry and retrieved a bag of chips for him. She placed bowls on the two plastic place mats on the table and sat down across from him.

“How was school?” he asked.

“Meh.”

“What’s the adult translation?”

“It was school,” she said with a shrug. “Made a friend, might’ve ruined one uniform after spilling soda on it. Vocals went awesome. The instructor is fantastic.”

“Did you tell what them talent scouts at the mall said?”

“Yes, Daddy. She was impressed. Said I might just have what it takes to get into one of them jazz bands. She wants to work with me first, but says I got a good future in music.”

“She sounds real nice.”

“She is.”

“How are the snotty rich kids?”

“Just like any other kids,” she said. “I miss my old school. It’s scary to start over somewhere new.”

“Don’t I know it. Like with Candace. I keep thinking I’ll mess it up, like I did with your mom.”

“You’ll do fine, Daddy. You’re a good man.” Adrienne smiled at him. After their disastrous venture into the topic of Therese, she was happy to hear that he was interested in dating someone. “I really want to meet her.”

“I’ll think about it. You’ve gotta work this weekend anyway. That puff cereal you like ain’t free.”

“I know,” she murmured. She was paying for her lunch money, books, clothes, basically everything she needed while in town. “I’m helping pay my own way like I promised when I got into the rich kid school, aren’t I?”

“You are,” he agreed. “I appreciate it, Addy. I can’t afford to have you living with me otherwise. You’d be back with your mama.”

“God gave me my gift for a reason,” she told him. “Don’t you worry, Daddy. Things will get better and I’ll take care of you and Mama. I promise.”

“I reckon you will.” He was despondent again, and Adrienne guessed his thoughts were on Therese.

They ate in silence, and she retrieved her backpack from the foyer. Her dad returned to the television, and she pulled out the iPad containing all her textbook files and homework.

What she didn’t tell him: some of the classes were beyond her. The kids were much more cultured and advanced than she was after years in a school more focused on the bible than math and science. She felt like she was reading Dr. Seuss while they were quoting Shakespeare. It’d take a lot of work to keep up and pass the classes. Her scholarship required at least C grades across the board.

Even knowing she needed to study, she found herself reaching for the black journal instead. Adrienne glanced into the living room to make sure her father was occupied with the television. She cracked the journal open and pushed through a few pages before deciding to start in the back. There were no dates in the journal, aside from the year embossed on the front cover, the year Therese spent in New Orleans with their father. If she ran into Jax, would there be some record of it?

Adrienne pulled out her French dictionary. If there was a mention of Jax, would she be able to decipher the jumbled French and English enough to understand it?

She sighed. Instead of translating, should she just skim for some mention of Jax?

She started at the back of the book once again, eyes falling to the protection symbols.

“He’s coming,” she repeated. She idly traced the robed figure with a finger. As before, her heart quickened of its own accord, as if some part of her sensed the danger she couldn’t define.

Perplexed, Adrienne flipped back a page. She hadn’t yet been able to determine what it was her sister was doing. She knew most of the veves from seeing them around her mother’s house. The only drawings that made no sense were those of the Red Man and the symbols around him.

A sketch of a zombie made her giggle. Therese had drawn it with googly eyes and a corny smile on its face. Adrienne saw several examples of her sister’s fun sense of humor and felt a familiar ache. They used to tell stupid jokes to each other all the time. Too poor to go to the movies or shop, they’d used their imaginations in a competition of who could make up the worst joke.

She could imagine Therese bent over her journal in the room that was now Adrienne’s, writing feverishly then laughing at the funny drawings as she made them.

Except it wasn’t a normal journal. It had a purpose, a special one that eluded Adrienne. Some of the writing and drawings were repetitive, as if Therese had an obsessive tendency as well.

The sketch of a fat heart caught her attention. It was in a corner of a page.

“J and T,” Adrienne murmured. She focused on this page. Pockets of writing were interspersed with veves.

Does Jax love me?

Adrienne sucked in a breath, startled to read one full, coherent sentence among the disjointed sentences on the pages. She looked up at the clock, dismayed to see two hours had passed. It was close to eight and she had homework to do.

Excited, Adrienne marked the page in Therese’s journal then set it aside with some difficulty.

She pulled a notebook and pencil from her bag and started taking notes of what homework she needed to do. Completing it would mean she’d be up half the night, and she tapped her pen against the notebook in frustration.

What if she couldn’t keep up? What if she lost her scholarship and never made it into the music industry? Christie told her talent scouts from major conservatories came to the academy. Did she have a chance of being discovered and given a scholarship to a prestigious conservatory or college known for its music program?

They were opportunities she hadn’t had at her Baptist school outside of Atlanta. She had to focus on studying.

What if the journal could tell her why she bore the mark of the curse?

Torn between her sister’s diary and homework, Adrienne pushed herself away from the table to grab a glass of water.

Homework tonight. Tomorrow, the diary, she promised herself. She returned to the table and pulled out her Tarot deck, wanting to check her cards to see how tomorrow would be before she drowned herself in homework.

After handling them for a moment, she drew one.

“Page of Cups, Reversed.” She thought hared for a moment. “Proceed with caution.”

It was a generally good omen, one she took to be reasonable, given it was her second day of school and she’d already started to fall head over heels for a boy she didn’t know.

Not nearly as satisfied with this card as the one she drew the night before, she threw herself into her schoolwork with earnest.

Chapter Five

A few blocks away, the man named Jax left the safety of his crew and strode through back alleys and side streets, headed to the same place he went every month. The balmy night was typical of a late Louisianan summer. He was the only one brave enough to cross through the St. Louis No. 1 cemetery after dark, knowing his gang was the one protecting the dead.

It had been this way for years, since Hurricane Katrina stripped the city of law and order. While the government and police forces had returned, there was a newfound, healthy respect for the voodoo gang that prevented looting, curbed crime and protected both living and dead in the aftermath of the storms. The stations in every ward knew who to call if there was an issue involving the voodoo community or in the crime-ridden Projects or other areas of New Orleans where routine police sweeps didn’t occur after dark.

Jax was the second leader of the gang. His late cousin, the son of his uncle Olivier DuBois, was the first to take on the sacred charge of leading up the voodoo gang and died in one of the occasional floods the city experienced over the past few years. Jax assumed the position after graduating college. It was a birthright more than a choice, for his uncle had only daughters after the death of his son.

“Hey, Jax.”

He glanced over at the uniformed police officer waiting for him at the exit of the cemetery, one of the many his gang routinely coordinated with.

“Yeah, Brannon,” Jax said, holding out his hand.

They shook. The officer was a deputy in the station nearest the Projects.

“Got an issue in the Irish Channel. Some tourist wandered off the beaten track and got hisself cornered by a drunk bokor or something,” Brannon said, handing him a note with an address. “Disappeared. We’re hoping it ain’t something related to black magic. Don’t need no more bad news in N’awlins to scare tourists away.”

Jax glanced at the address, recognizing the area. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Y’all hear anything else about the serial killer?” Deputy Brannon fell into step beside him.

“I’d tell you if I did.” Jax gave him a sidelong glance.

“I know. There ain’t nothing you can’t handle, Jax. Sometimes, the press asks too many questions.”

“Tell my uncle. Smoothing things over with his contacts in the press is his job. I’m just the muscle.”

“You and me both. Look, call me when you find this tourist.”

“Will do. Tell the boys at the station Rene will be in contact.”

Deputy Brannon nodded and offered a quick salute then turned and headed down the street to his waiting police car.

Jax texted the information Deputy Brannon gave him to Rene, who was his brother and second in charge of the street crew, then continued on his route. People took to Rene better than Jax, probably because they sensed Rene was gentle beneath his gruff exterior. Jax was feared for his willingness to resort to black magic, and Rene was regarded as the protector of those in trouble. Together, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle.

A devout member of the voodoo religion, Jax knew the price for harming another was steep, even if by accident. Every once in a while, someone in his position had no choice, especially if using black magic was the difference between life and death. The rumors about him were worse than the truth, but they helped keep the people of New Orleans safe. He’d pay the price for what he did down the road.

What was one more drop in the bucket of mistakes he’d made? He was already condemned after all he’d done.

Serial killer. If they only knew what it was he was trying to do, they wouldn’t give the series of deaths such a name. No, Jax’s intention was much nobler than slaughtering innocents. When the women he performed the zombie rite on died, it was purely accident.

Jax found himself slowing, unable to shake the image of Adrienne from his thoughts. She looked too much like her sister for him to escape the memories. They’d been flowing hard and fast since yesterday, when he saw Adrienne in the alley. He’d heard she was in town and walked by her father’s apartment building frequently. Curiosity made him wonder how much she looked like Therese.

If he knew they were almost identical, he would’ve stayed away. He hoped his warning to her kept her away, because he didn’t know if he could trust himself around her.

Forgotten memories kept popping into his head, aching ones that made his breath catch. The first kiss with Therese, the way her skin smelled after they made love, the brilliant smile she saved just for him.

He shook his head. She’d been gone for five years, and it was like he’d just seen her, touched her. He couldn’t see Adrienne again. Out of respect for Therese’s memory, he couldn’t let himself be tempted. He’d keep her safe, the way he did her father, the members of his House and voodoo community that frequented this district.

Jax pushed open the door to the Coffee Loa, a café that moonlighted as the hub of activity for the voodoo priest and priestess heading up House Igbo. Four people sat drinking espresso in the coffee shop.

The man behind the counter, a slender African man in jeans and a t-shirt, straightened when Jax entered. He waved him towards the back.

Jax went through one back room into the second, where the member of the House Igbo created his spells and potions to sell. A small amount of voodoo priests and priestesses sold spells and were known as bokors. Although most only sold healing or protective spells, this man was one of the few he know that would sell black magic spells. The scent of mummified animal parts and blood was covered by incense. A shrine to Baron Samedi, the god overseeing death and the dead, was on one side of the room, and Jax dipped his head to the god of death as he entered.

“You come twice this month,” Togoun Igbo said, heading towards a small refrigerator.

“I know.”

“Sit.”

Jax didn’t object, accustomed to the bokor’s way of doing business. There was no in-and-out, like at a normal store. No, Togoun’s routine was the same every time.

“You cannot keep asking from a god without giving back,” Togoun reminded him. “If you use black magic to harm another – ”

“- the penalty is threefold whatever harm I cause,” Jax finished for him. “You’re a bokor. Sell me my spell.”

“I do as always.” Togoun pulled a small, clay jar from the refrigerator and set it on the table beside Jax. “Take off your mask.”

Jax removed the skeleton mask he’d worn for five years, since Therese’s death.

Togoun pursed his lips in disapproval.

Jax grinned. “Gotcha.” He’d painted the skeleton on his face with Halloween make-up.

“You cannot hide what these spells are doing to you,” Togoun said. “You are losing your spirit, bit by bit.”

“I don’t care. I need to see her again.”

“Baron Samedi will dig her grave one day.”

“But he hasn’t yet. I refuse to let her go.”

Togoun never said anything more. He peered into Jax’s eyes as if looking for his soul then picked up the spell.

Jax handed him the normal fee: enough money to pay for Togoun’s rent for the month.

“I will need more blood next time,” Togoun said, accepting the payment.

“No problem.” Jax stood.

“Be careful, cousin. One of the original four Houses has returned to New Orleans. This family bears a curse strong enough to harm any involved with it. The Toussaints are unhappy about it, and your own DuBois relatives are worried.”

Been there. Done that. “Yeah, thanks.”

“You know this House?” Togoun asked.

“I do. St. Croix. One of them moved here a long time ago,” Jax replied.

“Therese St. Croix,” Togoun said, realization crossing his features. “The girl you mourn every month.”

“Yeah. I met her the summer after I graduated college. Her sister is here. She’s harmless. Tell the Toussaints not to interfere,” Jax said firmly. “She’s under the protection of House DuBois.”

“Does your uncle know this?”

“My word is enough.”

Togoun dropped his gaze at Jax’s sharp look.

“My uncle is the head of the family, but these are my streets, Togoun,” Jax said quietly. “Just do what I tell you.”

“I know.”

Jax turned and left. He tucked the cool clay jar in his pocket and stalked out of the shop. He tugged his mask back on then pulled up his hood. The apartment building where he lived was between the coffee shop and where Therese used to live, a lengthy walk across wards and through back alleys patrolled by his crew. He greeted a few as he crossed their paths. His brother, Rene, was probably on his way to the Irish Channel after taking care of their mother, who was confined to a wheelchair. Though he could throw down as well as any other member of LO, Rene was more sensitive than Jax had ever been to the emotions of those around him. He’d taken on the responsibility of caring for their mother, which Jax should have done.

Jax trotted up to the second floor where his apartment was.

Since he’d seen Adrienne, he hadn’t been able to think clearly. Normally, he waited for Rene to take their mother on her monthly trip to a special clinic in Baton Rouge. Jax stayed at her row house for two days while they were gone. He usually performed the rite in the attic of his mother’s home.

He only needed twenty-four hours. The black magic that drew Therese’s wandering spirit into the body Jax chose for her never lasted longer and many days, didn’t make it past twelve hours.

Jax’s pulse was flying by the time he reached for his doorknob. In under an hour, he’d rid himself of the need and pain he’d felt since running into Adrienne.

“Loa Yemaya, goddess of femininity and protector of those who cross between life and death,” he whispered. “I know it’s not a full moon, but I beg of you and my ancestors to bless me tonight and forgive me for any harm I cause.”

He opened the door to his apartment. It was quiet, aside from the rustling that came from his bedroom. He locked his door and tossed his jacket then went to the kitchen. There was no food in the cramped space. He’d converted it into a shrine for Baron Samedi and another for the loa Ogoun, the warrior god that watched over his family.

Jax lit candles and knelt, praying to the various spirits, gods and goddesses.

“I seek your forgiveness and your compassion for what I am about to do. Samedi, guide her spirit true. Ogoun, give me strength and Yemaya, keep my hands steady, so that I may feel the beauty of the female spirit. I will bring you my sacrifice after the rite. Amen.”

He pulled the clay bottle out of his pocket and reached for the blood-flecked knife on the counter. Adrenaline raced through him to the point of his ears roaring. He pulled his mask off and his shoes, then paused before the doorway of his bedroom.

With a deep breath to calm himself, Jax opened the door.

Streetlight lit up the woman on his bed. Her hair was dark, her skin pale. She looked nothing like the St. Croix girls, but she didn’t need to. The part of Therese he needed wasn’t her body.

The woman looked towards him, her eyes widening. He knew what she’d see: the man with a skeleton face. He wore the mask – or face paint – since Therese died. It was how he mourned and one of the ways he honored Baron Samedi, often depicted with a skeleton face.

Jax looked over the woman in his bed.

She pulled at the handcuffs holding her in place. A gag was in her mouth and her feet tied at the ankles with rope. Her makeup was smeared from tears, her nose red from crying. She wore a bra and underwear, and goose pimples turned her exposed skin from smooth to rough. She felt the blood magic he was calling upon. She smelled of herbs and ritual powders he’d dressed her with during the first stage of the rite.

“What happens tonight is an honor,” he told her. “You will become the living host for the spirit of the woman I love most.”

She listened.

“I promise you, my goal isn’t to kill you. Sometimes the rite fails or the Red Man senses Therese’s spirit and might slaughter you. But those things aren’t intentional, and I will do everything I can to bring you back.”

The woman tried to speak to him, probably to beg. Tears fell faster down her face.

“The pain doesn’t last long,” he promised the woman.

Jax closed the door to his bedroom and approached the bed, raising the knife.

I am not a killer.

Chapter Six

Adrienne’s second day of school started without the rain. The busy New Orleans morning fell away as she stepped onto the private campus with its sycamore trees and manicured lawns. The historic Southern architecture of the school was pristine: graceful white buildings with columns, cobblestone drives and walkways, lush gardens. She’d loved the campus since first setting foot on it. It was like an oasis in the middle of the busy city. The scent of honeysuckle and lavender and the beauty of the grounds made the trip to class almost magical. She passed through the administrative buildings and paused at the fork in the walkway. One direction led towards the sports stadium and practice fields while the other went towards the school.

The football team was practicing. She could hear them on the near practice field. Wanting to see if the guy from the cafeteria played sports, she checked her watch and decided to check the field. She had a few minutes before she was meeting her voice instructor.

Curious, Adrienne started towards the practice field, not intending to go too close. A coach somewhere was belting orders to the players, and she tried not to smile. The players were coated in mud from the rain yesterday. Clutching her iPad to her chest, she stopped across the narrow cobblestone street from the field, watching the quarterbacks toss balls down field while their quieter coach physically altered their stances or throwing positions.

She wasn’t the only one watching. The man dressed all in red stood on one sideline, the dark opening of his hood facing her. Catching sight of him from the corner of her eye, she twisted her head to focus on him.

He was real. She’d seen him twice now. What did he want? Why didn’t he just talk to her, the way the spirits of her ancestors did?

Innately, she knew she needed to fear him. Her body reacted, screamed for her to run. But if he could hand her answers …

A loud curse and a burst of laughter turned her attention back to the football players. One of the quarterbacks was rubbing his chest as he bent to retrieve a football he’d missed. He straightened, and she was surprised to see him staring in her direction. With the helmet on, his face was hidden, but he waved.

“Washington! Stop flirting and pay attention!” the coach called.

Adrienne flushed and moved away. She had no idea if it were the guy from the cafeteria or not and turned away to leave, embarrassed by the attention. She automatically glanced towards the sideline. The man in the red robe was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe I imagined it. Still, the strange sighting left her uneasy. She hurried into the music school for her lesson.

“You memorize some lines last night?” Christie, the instructor, asked as she entered.

Adrienne nodded. “I knew most of them. I was Cosette at my old school, though the production wasn’t to this scale.”

“It’s an annual holiday tradition here. You’ll blow them out of the water.”

Adrienne smiled. Christie had given her the lead part in Les Miserable without a tryout and was working on catching her up to the rest of the kids, who’d had a month of practice already.

“Let’s do some warm-ups,” Christie said and sat at the grand piano at one side of the music room.

Adrienne set down her things and crossed to stand by the piano. The forty-five minute lesson passed quickly. Christie was a challenging teacher, one whose ability to hear pitch was flawless. Adrienne always thought she was on key, but Christie could detect the faintest flaw.

The lesson was soon over, and Adrienne hummed to herself as she gathered her things. She opened the door to the music room and froze.

“You still owe me a name.” The guy from the cafeteria was leaning against the wall across the hallway. He glanced up from his smart phone. The sparkling eyes, tall frame and relaxed confidence floored her. She’d never met anyone who had the sort of presence that musical directors used to lecture her classes about.

Like a total idiot, she was speechless again.

“Or, you can not tell me and just let me buy you lunch. I owe you,” he said at her hesitation.

That someone as strong and handsome as he might be interested in her …

At least until he realized she was cursed.

She panicked and closed the door, safe in the music room with the piano. Kicking herself mentally, she tried to figure out why she was being so silly around him. Her heart was flying, her ears buzzing. Okay, so she liked him. But she’d liked other guys before and never acted like such a flake. She’d never really interacted with boys, though, unless they were the brothers of her friends she grew up with from her old school. She didn’t know how to talk to this guy.

It was time she learned. She was seventeen, for God’s sake! On the count of three, she’d open the door and tell him her name. Then, if she wanted to run, she could.

More nervous than performing in front of a crowded auditorium, Adrienne drew a deep breath.

One. Two. Three.

She opened the door. He was gone. She stepped out of the music room and saw he was down the hallway.

“Adrienne,” she called.

He stopped and turned. Her face felt warm again, but she held her ground this time, telling herself it was silly to run from some nice guy she’d just met.

“I’m Jayden,” he said. “You’re amazing.”

She stared at him.

“I mean, you sing amazingly.” His smile was quick, a little nervous. He rushed on. “I heard you yesterday morning after practice. Not that you’re not amazing, too. Just … I heard you sing first then saw you and it fits.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you, Adrienne.”

He was as flustered as she was. It made her feel better, knowing she wasn’t the only one.

“If I walk down there to shake your hand, are you gonna run again?” he asked.

“Probably,” she admitted, clutching the iPad more tightly to her chest.

“Okay.” He laughed. “Um, I’ll email you through the school system. What’s your last name?”

“St. Croix.”

“See you around.” His gaze lingered on hers for a minute before he turned and walked away.

Adrienne released her breath, feeling lamer than she’d ever felt before. What girl her age didn’t know how to talk to someone so hot? Miserably, she realized no one in their right mind would email her after that bizarre exchange. He’d write her off as another wacky charity case there on scholarship, and she’d never be able to face him again.

You’re amazing. Her whole world almost exploded at the words.

Depressed before her second day of school even started, she trudged to the main hallway and made her way through the crowds of arriving students to her locker.

“Um, hey, you’re new, right?”

She pushed her locker door aside to see the girl who spoke, startled to see it was one of the gorgeous brunettes from the cheer squad.

“Yes,” she said.

“I’m Kayla.”

“Adrienne.”

“Awesome name. Look, um, this will sound odd, but we lost one of the girls on the squad recently. We don’t do tryouts here” Kayla rolled her eyes “because it’s lame. We invite girls to the squad. You’re a little smaller than normal but, um, Christie does our choreography and said you’re pretty quick on your feet. I guess you do musicals?”

Stunned by the conversation, Adrienne barely heard the question. She nodded.

“Well, we need a sixth member, because Darla went berserk last night and … anyway, long story. Would you be willing to stay after school and practice with us? Not as an official member, but just to see if you can actually learn our routines?”

“Wow. Yes,” Adrienne breathed.

Kayla looked her over from head to foot closely. “You’re a scholarship kid. Eh, should be okay. Darla was the token blonde. We need another blonde, and you look like you’re in shape. The whole football team is already talking about you after Jayden knocked you on your ass yesterday at lunch.”

“Oh, god. Everyone knows about that?”

“Oh, yeah. Jayden’s the quarterback. He’s the king of the school. Everyone watches him. I heard he knocked you flat.” Kayla laughed.

“Pretty much.” And caught me in his super strong arms. The memory made her want to sigh.

“Then you can like redeem yourself at the pep rally Friday. Go to the gym after your last class. We’ll see if you can keep up. Chat later.” Kayla moved away.

Adrienne watched her, bursting with happiness at the inclusion. Jayden may never talk to her again after how weird she was this morning, but the cheer squad wanted her to try out!

“Don’t do it, Addy.” Emma’s warning made her realize the smaller girl was standing on her other side.

“What? It’s incredible!” Adrienne almost squealed. “Even if I fail miserably, it’s so awesome!”

“You can’t trust them. I told you – they aren’t good people.” Emma frowned. “Besides, you’ll abandon me. They’ll turn you against me.”

“I will not! I’m not shallow like that.”

Her new friend appeared unconvinced. Adrienne gave her a quick hug that made the troubled girl smile. They walked down the hall together until they had to part ways for their first classes. Adrienne was in what someone had whispered was the elite school’s version of remedial math. It was still over her head. She sat in the back of class and brought up her homework on the iPad, distressed by it already.

She had two emails: one from the teacher with notes on the homework and another from Jayden Washington. She held her breath and opened his, cringing, in case he told her never to talk to him again after how strange she was.

Hey A, Did you want to have lunch today? – J

He was persistent. Adrienne smiled despite herself. She hesitated then typed a quick response.

Hi Jayden, Nice to meet you this morning. I promised to have lunch with my friend Emma today. She bought me lunch yesterday after you dumped mine on the floor. Maybe another time. – Adrienne

She wasn’t sure why she felt like getting in a dig at him. Maybe because she wanted him to think twice before talking to her again or to realize she wasn’t as stupid as she seemed whenever they’d interacted. Or maybe, she didn’t want to have to admit she was there on scholarship.

Expecting to drive him away, she sent the email and started paying attention to the instructor.

Adrienne checked her email every five minutes during the first class, even knowing she’d probably offended him. Disappointed he didn’t respond quickly, she stopped checking her email until after her third class. She’d emailed her daddy to make sure he knew her address and saw she had a note from him already as she walked through the hallways towards her final class before lunch. The king of brevity, all he said was that he got her email and he was working late.

She snorted and flipped back to her inbox, startled to see Jayden’s email pop up. Heart pounding, she opened it.

Hey, I’ll just have to take you out this weekend. There’s a fall festival downtown on Saturday. Wanna go with me? – J

She tripped over her feet and barely caught herself from a face plant on the floor. A few kids around her looked at her curiously. Adrienne moved out of the foot traffic to the wall and ducked into the bathroom, hiding in a stall to reread his email a few times in private.

Jayden, the quarterback and king of the school, was asking her out.

Did he know she was poor and that she read tarot cards on the weekends? What if he picked her up and met her daddy, who was unapologetically racist, or found out her backwards family was cursed by voodoo?

She sighed and closed her inbox, uncertain what to do. Setting her book bag on the ground, she pulled out her tarot cards.

“Okay, spirits. Tell me what to do. Go out with him or not?” she whispered. She shuffled the cards for two minutes, focusing on the question in her mind, then drew three and set them on the small shelf beside the toilet. The first card would be hers, the second Jayden’s and the third, an indication of what she should do. The first two cards were lined up on top of one another, the third beside them.

Replacing the deck in her bag, she drew a deep breath and turned over the first card.

“Hanged Man,” she whispered, considering briefly. “I need to let go of something. Or someone?” Ugh! Was it a sign she shouldn’t see Jayden?

She flipped over the second.

“The Devil. Jayden is trapped,” she said, frowning.

She flipped the third over.

“Queen of Swords, reversed.” Adrienne thought for a moment. “The sign of obstacles caused by others.”

It wasn’t a clear-cut yes or no, and she sensed the spirits were showing her a much greater truth than that of whether or not she should consider dating him.

She regarded the cards. The general feeling they gave her was one of concern rather than comfort or hope, and the story on the shelf before her didn’t feel complete. Instinctively, she reached into her bag to draw two more, hoping to create a story.

Devil. Death. Six of Cups. This story was familiar. How was it possible that Jayden had the same cards as the brother of the girl she’d seen at Madame Estelle’s on Sunday?

“Ace of swords, reversed. Be careful who you trust,” she whispered and turned the final card. “Six of cups. A connection to the past and need to look towards the future. I’ve seen them cards before, but the story wasn’t complete then either.” She dwelled briefly on the cards she’d read Sunday for the girl named Tara and then glanced towards the ceiling. “If any of you are here, can you help me put these in the right order?”

She looked down. Two of the cards were crooked, both angled to the left. Accustomed to the way the spirits talked to her, she swapped the places of those two.

“Hanged Man, Devil, Six of Cups, Ace of Swords, reversed and Queen of Swords, reversed. I need to let go of something in my past. Jayden is trapped by something in his past. We must be careful who we trust, because there are others who will cause …”

Danger.

She sucked in a breath.

No, the cards hadn’t answered her simple question about dating him. They’d given her something else. A layered warning, one she couldn’t fully understand but which she knew came from outside her and Jayden. He was no danger to her, but something out there – perhaps connected to their past – was a threat to them both.

Was this a sign they shouldn’t be together, that the danger appeared because of their relationship? How did their separate pasts connect?

Or maybe, when? They’d only just met. Was there a connection among their ancestors instead of their childhoods?

The warning bell rang.

Heart racing, Adrienne snatched up the cards and put them away then raced out of the bathroom to make her next class.

Chapter Seven

Jayden waited the rest of the school day for her response. He considered sending his again to make sure Adrienne got it, but stopped himself.

He’d never had any girl reject him before. The idea that this one might, made him want to laugh in confusion. Mickey was right. Girls threw themselves at him, if not because of his status as the leading high school quarterback in the country then because of whom his father was. Had he come across too strong? Not strong enough? Did he somehow offend her? Was she really angry about the lunch? Adrienne wasn’t exactly falling into his lap, like most girls, which left him a little confused and a little more intrigued than he liked.

Was she going to be more drama than Kimmie, whose emails hadn’t stopped all day long?

Jayden was almost angry by the end of the day. He’d met a beautiful girl, the first he ever really felt drawn to, and this was how it ended? Before he even got to know her? She’d seemed very … sweet, especially to befriend someone as unpopular as Emma and to put having lunch with the social pariah over lunch with him.

God is telling me not to get involved. At least, that’s probably what his mother would tell him. He hadn’t planned on it, until Adrienne started playing hard-to-get, tugging at his competitive streak.

Irritated, Jayden waited when the last bell of the day rang. Kimmie asked him to meet her outside the gym, where she was having her cheer practice, for one final attempt to convince him not to break up with her and take her to Homecoming. He felt less tolerant of her antics than normal as he grabbed his stuff from his locker. A glance at his iPad revealed half a dozen new emails. He was constantly talking to Mickey and others during class, usually about football, girls or the instructors boring them to death.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he read the latest reminder from Kimmie to meet her and was about to delete the entire conversation when he saw that Adrienne had finally responded.

Jayden, I live in the Projects. I’m sure that that changes your mind, and I understand. – Adrienne

His opinion of her warmed immediately. He hadn’t considered what she’d grappled with as a scholarship student. He’d seen how mean some of the kids could be to the less fortunate students. He was at once irked that she’d assume he was like that and understanding that she had no idea who he was in the first place. They were virtually neighbors; his mother’s apartment was in the same ward.

He didn’t have a chance to respond before meeting with Kimmie. Still, he felt better knowing Adrienne wasn’t rejecting him. Jayden left the school for the sports complex. Kimmie was pacing outside the propped doors, waiting for him. His eyes fell not on her, but on Adrienne, who was trailing the cheer squad into the gym. If Kimmie wasn’t sure to get jealous, he’d tell Adrienne right then and there what he thought of her email.

“I knew you’d be late,” Kimmie said as he approached. “I’m glad you came, though.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Look, Kimmie, I haven’t –”

“- changed your mind,” she finished for him. “Still?” She searched his face, as if genuinely surprised that was the case.

“No.”

“Then who will you go to Homecoming with?”

“No one, at this point,” he replied.

“You’re going to be crowned the king. You can’t not have a date!”

“Do you have a date? You’re a shoo-in for the Homecoming queen.”

“Well…” She crossed her arms. “I have a back-up plan, if you’re serious about not going with me.”

“Not surprised,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“I said, that’s good. Because I’m serious about breaking up with you, Kimmie. I’m done with the drama and the emails and the phone calls. Whoever your back-up plan is, go and be happy,” he said with more heat than he intended.

She appeared wounded, and he felt guilty, despite the fact that she was driving him crazy. After years of taking care of his mother and sisters, he hated, hated upsetting women. Nothing good ever came of a woman who was pissed.

“I don’t understand it. You should be …” She shook her head.

“Should be what?” he asked. “Harassing me isn’t really a good way to convince me.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it fell flat.

“No, because I bought a spell from a bokor. He said you’d fall in love with me!”

“Oh, god, more voodoo crap. You know that’s just a sham, right?” he asked. “Go get a refund.”

Anger glittered in her dark eyes. Kimmie whirled away and went into the gym. Jayden followed, only because he wanted to see what the cheer squad was doing with his angel. Kayla was showing Adrienne a routine. He’d heard Darla quit, but he hadn’t thought they’d ask Adrienne to join the squad.

Then again, it made sense. While smaller than the others, she gave any girl on the squad a run for their money in looks. Those green eyes and blonde hair were the talk of the football team.

As if feeling him study her, Adrienne glanced up. Her face turned pink, and she looked away quickly. He hadn’t responded to her email yet and wondered if that’s why she appeared embarrassed. She was waiting for him to reject her.

Jayden pushed himself away from the doorway and left. Tonight he was headed to his father’s. He spent the weekdays at his father’s and every other weekend at his mother’s, unless she called him drunk to pick her up. Then he usually stayed the night to make sure she woke up the next day.

His daddy was having friends over for dinner, and Jayden hoped it was the Tarinos, who had a son his age who played sports. His dad loved to brag about the All-American quarterback that was his son. Jayden went with it. He tried to keep both parents happy, which was often impossible, since they seemed to want different things.

He whipped out his iPhone, where he’d routed school messages to his personal email.

How did he reassure Adrienne he didn’t care at all about her being from the wrong side of New Orleans? He thought hard about it as he walked to his car. He slid into the driver’s seat and blasted the AC then typed a response.

Adrienne- I’ll pick you up at 10. Send me your addy. BTW- can’t wait to see you in your cheer uniform Fri at the pep rally. – J.

Too strong? Probably. He really couldn’t help it, though. He’d never been this attracted to anyone. It was almost like he knew her somehow.

Jayden left campus and raced across town to reach the highway before rush hour started at three. His trip home was all of ten minutes once he hit the freeway, and he drove slowly through the affluent neighborhood and the gate around his father’s property, parking in back.

Jayden went in the side entrance of the garden, not surprised to see his stepsisters trying to catch the last direct rays of sun before autumn. Tara’s half-sister, Chelsea, was short and a little on the chubby side. She was eight with light mocha skin.

With them was his sister, Isabelle. Also eight, she was tall, dark-skinned and skinny, an indication she’d end up close to six feet tall like their mother.

“Hi, Jay,” Isabelle called with a wave.

“Hey, Izzy,” he replied. He crossed to hug his sister. “Don’t you have cheer practice, Tara?”

“I skipped,” she replied lifting her sunglasses to squint at him. “Did Kimmie badmouth me for it?”

“I have no idea,” he said, not about to get caught up in any drama. “I just saw them teaching a new girl –”

“New girl?” Tara shot up. “That bitch better not be replacing me!”

“Oooooohhhhhh,” Chelsea and Isabelle said simultaneously.

Tara ignored them. She snatched her phone and started towards the house.

Aware he’d caused enough drama with Kimmie, Jayden intercepted his stepsister and plucked her phone free. One sister was bad enough. Three? There were full weeks when he had no peace.

Tara looked up at him, frowning.

“I broke up with Kimmie, so don’t call her and yell,” he said quickly. “Okay? She’s already pissed at me.”

“Finally. What took you so long?”

“To break up with her?”

“She’s a bitch!”

“Ooooooohhhhhh!” went the girls again.

“Shut up, Chels, Izzy!” Tara snapped.

“I’m telling mom you’re saying bad words!” Chelsea retorted.

“If you dare, I’ll tell her you both were in her chocolate stash!”

Chelsea took a deep breath, preparing to squeal at the top of her lungs in a form of angry hissy fit. Isabelle recently took up the habit, too, and Jayden was in no mood for screaming girls.

“Don’t start,” he chided the two younger girls.

“Jayden!” Chelsea objected.

“No whining, no screaming, no cussing,” he said firmly. “Y’all got it?”

Tara snatched her phone and stormed inside. The two younger girls nodded.

Jayden shook his head. His father married the girls’ mother seven years ago, soon after Izzy was born. He’d spent more time babysitting and raising the two little ones than their parents had. They listened to him.

Most days, Tara ignored him but helped out where she was willing. He was certain his stepsister and ex-girlfriend would soon be on the phone together, comparing notes about how bad of a person he was.

Did he really want a new girlfriend when he was constantly surrounded by women?

His phone dinged, indicating he had a new email. Jayden glanced at his phone as he took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. He paused at the top of the grand staircase.

The email was from Adrienne. Any thought he had of not wanting anything to do with another girl in his life faded. He opened it instantly.

Hi Jayden,

I don’t think I can go. Thank you for asking.

Adrienne

Jayden frowned. How did she say no? Had Kimmie said something to her during cheer practice?

Let her go, Jay, he told himself again.

But he couldn’t. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her all day, and he hated the idea of putting aside something that interested him before he’d satisfied his curiosity.

“Tara!” he called, striding down the hallway lined with the rooms of all four kids.

“What?” she shouted from inside her room.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Fine.”

Jayden opened the door to her room. Like his, the massive space was filled with a four-poster bed, heavy furniture and paintings chosen by his stepmother. All similarities ended there. Tara’s marble floors were covered in pink and teal rugs, the mantle above her hearth decorated with awards won by the cheer squad. Her bedspread was fuchsia and the rest of her room adorned by girly colors and objects.

Slung across her bed in her bikini, Tara was on the phone. She held up her finger for him to wait.

Jayden did so impatiently and checked his phone, reading Adrienne’s email again.

They had chemistry. He felt it. Didn’t she?

“Okay what?” Tara asked, lowering the cell.

“What’s the deal with the new girl on the cheer squad?” he asked casually.

“You had to ask.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re not replacing me.”

She was quiet, content.

“Yeah and … ?” he prodded. “She’s replacing Darla?”

“Not really. Darla got pissed, but she’ll be back next week. She did this like, five times last year.”

“So Adrienne is just subbing for the week?”

“Why do you care about the cheer squad?” Tara pinned him with a glare. “Kimmie told me you broke up with her right before Homecoming. You’re an ass, Jay.”

“So she’s a bitch and I’m an ass?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Which is it?”

“Both!”

“Just tell me about Adrienne.”

Tara’s brow furrowed. She gazed at him for a minute then sat up, interested.

“You like her,” she accused.

“I don’t like her,” he retorted. “I heard her sing. She seems too nice to hang out with Kimmie.”

“And I’m not?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said with tried patience.

“I can’t stand Kimmie. I’m glad you broke up with her.” Tara pushed herself off her bed and crossed to her cavernous walk-in closet. “I haven’t met Adrienne. What’s she like?”

“Small, blonde. She sings real good. She got a scholarship to –”

“Scholarship?” Tara poked her head out from the closet. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

“You better not tell Daddy.” Tara considered for a moment, then ducked back into her closet. “Then there’s no way Kimmie will let her on the team. She’s probably just pranking her.”

Jayden frowned. “Kimmie would do that?”

“Duh. You remember how last year, she wouldn’t let Lori Jenkinson try out, because her parents mortgaged their house to send her to school there for her senior year?”

“I don’t even know who Lori Jenkinson is,” he replied.

“Well she did. Her parents almost had no money. Kimmie won’t let a scholarship student on the team,” Tara said. “If she knows you like this girl, she’ll prank her even worse.”

That much Jayden didn’t doubt.

“You want me to find out tomorrow?” Tara asked.

“Would you?”

“Only if you admit you like her.” Tara emerged from her closet in jeans and a t-shirt.

“I’m just curious about her,” he hedged.

“Then I won’t.”

“Tara!”

She grinned.

“Fine. I think she’s pretty,” he admitted. “If you tell Kimmie, I’ll tell dad to shut down your credit card.”

“Whatever.” Tara rolled her eyes. “I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Jesus! Why is everything so hard?

“I’m glad her voodoo spell didn’t work,” Tara added. “I don’t want you to marry her.”

“I have no intention of marrying Kimmie,” he said with a sigh.

“Because you like the new girl.”

“I’m not marrying anyone!”

“Don’t fight!” Chelsea shouted from the doorway. She was trailed by Izzy, who clutched a stuffed animal.

“I’m going out,” Tara said. She snatched her purse and breezed by Jayden.

“Curfew is nine,” he reminded her.

“You’re not my father.”

“No, but I’m the only one who will bail you out without telling our parents,” he shot back.

“I put the twins to bed last night. It took me an hour, Jay, because they wanted to play some silly game. You deal with them tonight,” Tara said then grinned. “I love you, big brother.”

“First day of school and I need a vacation,” he muttered.

Tara walked out cheerfully, no doubt on her way to spend more of their parents’ money on clothes she didn’t need. Jayden envied her.

“Jayden, I lost my Georgie,” Chelsea reported, her face growing long.

Jayden turned to her. “What is a Georgie?” he asked, accustomed to being the household savior of stuffed animals and dolls.

“We found a frog!” Izzy all but shouted.

“A real one?”

She nodded.

“Let’s find it before dad’s dinner party gets here,” he said. He shooed them away from Tara’s doorway and down the hallway.

His phone dinged. He trailed the two girls, reading the newest message.

Hi Jayden. Okay, maybe this weekend is okay. Adrienne

Her second email was followed quickly by a third.

Hi Jayden.

I’m not crazy. I promise. I’m just … ugh! I really can’t go with you this weekend. There’s no way I can make my Cs with this Algebra and World History and I have to work on weekends or I can’t stay in school. There. I said it. I can’t have a life.

Sorry.

Adrienne

He almost laughed. He’d begun to think it was him, a thought he’d never entertained before in any aspect of his life. He achieved any goal he set his mind on.

“Girls, start looking for your Georgie,” he said, eyes on the phone. “I’ll be right down.”

They went.

Jayden paused at the top of the stairs once more, this time to type a response.

A-

Don’t stress. I can help you with your math and history. Can you do evenings after school instead of weekends?

J.

He hit send and started down the stairs. A moment later, squeals came from the direction of the kitchen. Jayden walked in just as Chelsea dropped a huge bowl over something on the floor. Izzy was screeching in excitement.

“Here it is, Jay!” Chelsea shouted.

The chef appeared, less than pleased to have his solitary duties interrupted by frog and girls. Jayden went to the bowl and lifted it, quickly snatching the green-brown creature that tried to leap away.

“No more frogs, Chels,” he told his stepsister firmly.

He straightened and trotted out the back door, through the garden and onto the landscaped backyard. When he was far enough away, he set down the frog and tugged his phone free to see if he’d missed Adrienne’s response.

J.

Ok. We can do that.

A.

Was she interested? Reluctant? Just trying to make him happy? He couldn’t tell. Jayden debated for a moment, accustomed to the women in his life leaving no room for interpretation. From Kimmie to his mother to Tara to the girls: they were all demanding. Adrienne was … confusing.

But maybe that was good. Maybe that meant she was interested.

Whatever. He shook his head. On a whim, he sent her a quick response.

A-

Cool. I can come tonight. ;-)

J.

What if she said yes? He had a feeling she’d turn him down with another excuse. If so, then she probably wasn’t as interested in him as he was becoming in her. It would be a warning for him not to get entangled with another girl who would just twist his feelings every which way.

It would be for the best. He wouldn’t have to hide her from his father or make up an excuse as to why he had to break up for her, if they ended up dating until the end of the year. She was everything his father didn’t want him to date: poor.

With the frog issue resolved, he returned to the house, curiously awaiting her response.

Why couldn’t he get Adrienne out of his mind?

Chapter Eight

Tonight?

Adrienne’s breath caught. Was he serious? Or was the winking smiley face his way of saying he was joking?

She didn’t know him well enough to figure it out.

It was rush hour, which meant standing room only on the city bus. She was pressed between an overweight woman and another teen who looked like the gangbangers her father warned her about. She swayed with the bus and the passengers crammed in the tiny space. There was no way she could check her cards on the bus.

Lowering the iPad, she held onto the nearest pole tightly. The bus lurched to a stop then lurched again when it merged back onto the street.

Her heart was flying. She’d just had her first ever cheer practice, and the hottest guy at school wanted to come over to study.

Her senior year was going to be epic!

The bus reached her stop. Adrienne maneuvered her way through the crowd and emerged onto the street, grateful to be free of the confined space. She opened her bag to tuck her iPad into it and spotted the journal.

Does Jax love me?

It wasn’t a coincidence that she met a guy named Jax who knew her sister, and Therese had mentioned Jax in her journal.

Adrienne fingered the leather cover. Her eyes drifted upward, towards the alley whose entrance was open in the distance. It was around six, just before dark. She could look for Jax then still be home before her daddy.

Or maybe, before Jayden wanted to come over.

She tried hard not to smile, thrilled Jayden wanted something to do with her, even after learning she was poor. She tugged the iPad free and flipped it open then pulled up his email.

J-

Sure. ;-)

A.

She sent the response then closed the iPad, satisfied. Hopefully, her email was as confusing as his. If he was serious, he’d ask her address. If not, then she’d know for sure. Either way, she wouldn’t be stuck trying to figure out if he liked her or was just being nice.

Now onto her next mission: unraveling the last year of her late sister’s life.

Adrienne pulled out the journal and slung her backpack over her shoulder.

A dark-haired woman across the street caught her attention. She stood still, like a rock among a stream of moving people. Unlike most of the residents of the neighborhood, the woman was white, dressed in a white shirt that made her stand out even more. She seemed frozen in her spot on the sidewalk behind a black motorcycle.

She wasn’t alone, either. The Red Man hung back next to the wall, the rippling of his robes giving him the appearance of not being a part of this world.

Adrienne glanced once then looked back, pausing.

The Red Man was gone.

The woman seemed to be staring at her. She looked … trashed. Wasted or ill or something, with smeared make-up, glazed eyes and a blanched complexion.

Creepy. Adrienne started walking again. She looked back when she reached the entrance of the alley where she’d run into Jax twice already.

The woman was gone.

A shiver went through her despite the humid day.

Probably some druggie. Adrienne shrugged it off, not liking the sensation. She had something more important to think about – finding Jax.

Determined, she walked down the street to the alley and entered it for the third day in a row.

The same bums were in place beneath their shelters while Jax was nowhere to be seen. She started down the alley, glancing around to see where it was Jax came from the other two times. There were no doors or fire escapes within reach.

She turned halfway down the alley, surprised to see him between her and the entrance of the alley. Hooded and hunched, his face shadowed, like before.

He paused when she did, and fear made her stomach flutter. After a moment, she started towards him, hugging the journal with some trepidation. Her sister had cared about him. He couldn’t be that bad.

“I was looking for you,” she said.

“You shouldn’t,” came his smoky voice.

She paused. Even in full daylight, she sensed something otherworldly about him. It made the hair on her arms stand up on end. Maybe it was simply how quietly he moved or that he appeared whenever she thought of him.

“Are you following me?” she ventured.

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like I said.”

She frowned.

“What do you want?” he asked.

A little nervous and scared, she giggled. “You’re following me, but you want to know what I want?”

He waited.

Adrienne cleared her throat. Jax had no sense of humor – that much was clear.

“I wanted to know about my sister,” she said.

“I can’t talk about her.” As before, he turned and started away.

Perplexed, Adrienne hurried to him and caught his arm. “Wait, please!”

He shrugged her off.

“Did you love her?”

Jax froze.

Adrienne flipped open the journal. “I think she loved you. She wrote about you in her journal.”

He spun so fast, she didn’t have time to move.

Jax snatched her arm and yanked the journal free.

Adrienne stared up at him, horrified by the sight of his face, until she realized he wore a skeleton mask. While she couldn’t distinguish his features, she could see his riveting eyes. They were blue-green, bright, sharp and deep set.

Releasing her, Jax walked away.

“Jax!” she called, recovering from her surprise. “You can’t take that!”

“Go home to your daddy, girl.”

Adrienne trailed. “That’s all I have left of her.”

“Trust me. This way is better.”

“What way? You stealing from me?”

He didn’t respond.

They reached the end of the alley. Adrienne stared after him, distraught. She hadn’t gotten far with the journal, but it was her sister’s. Not only that, but the sticky notes were in there, too. All the clues to whatever mystery she was meant to unravel were in Jax’s hands.

“I’m not going home without her journal!” She scrambled after him.

“Don’t be stupid.” He tucked it beneath his sweatshirt.

“You said she wasn’t dead. Are you sure you’re talking about my sister?” she continued.

He said nothing.

“Jax. Jax!”

“You’re driving me crazy, girl. Go home.”

“No.”

He turned down an alley, this one displaying what looked like gang members huddled at its center. She paused, sensing it wasn’t the place for her. The tattooed young men greeted Jax with fist bumps and some complex handshake. A few openly wore guns in their belts and carried knives.

Jax had her sister’s journal.

Adrienne swallowed hard then stepped into the alley, following him. She drew close enough to see the tattoos of the boys. All wore veves of gods while a few had French sayings written on their forearms or in one case, across his forehead. She studied them. She’d never heard of a voodoo gang. Then again, she was new to New Orleans. It was a lot different from Atlanta.

As close as she was willing to go, she stopped and waited, following Jax with her eyes. He seemed unaware of her, as if he didn’t expect her to follow him.

“Who the hell is this?” one of them noticed her.

They all turned, two drawing their weapons while the others just stared.

“I’m here to see Jax,” she said clearly.

“Step right into his office,” one replied then laughed.

“You’re a little young for Jax.”

“Rich girl. You go to the private school. Your daddy know you’re out?”

They circled her as they spoke. Adrienne didn’t know what to say. She looked away quickly, eyes on Jax. His hood was facing her, though he made no move towards her.

“Hey. You sing at the Baptist church on Sundays.” This voice came from behind her.

Adrienne turned to face the speaker. He was ruggedly handsome, a few years older than her with hard, striking green-blue eyes that resembled Jax’s. Dressed in baggy clothing like the others, he was likewise armed with two knives. The tattoos down his arms were of various gods, though the most prominent was that of Ogoun, the warrior god.

“He asked you a question, girl,” one of the others snarled. “You too good to talk to us?”

“No,” she replied. “And yes, I do sing at the church on Sundays.”

“You’re not rich,” the guy with prominent Ogoun tattoos said, crossing his arms. “Your daddy lives in this ward.”

“I’m on scholarship at the school for my singing,” she said. “How do you all know where I live?”

“This is our hood. We know who belongs where.” The speaker’s blue-green eyes slid to Jax, who had neared.

“I’m taking this one home,” one of the others said. “Got a rite in mind for her.”

Someone grabbed her arm.

She gasped and tried to pull away.

“Back off, DeShawn!”

“You back off, Rene. I spotted her first.”

The two were soon shoving each other. Adrienne tried to find her footing, but was yanked between them. Fists flew around her as two more joined the struggle. Someone’s elbow caught her in the side of her head. She slammed into the wall, stars exploding in her thoughts.

Adrienne slid to the ground. She lay still, the sounds of fighting distant. Unable to pull herself out of the dark place, she tried to discern what was going on. The sounds of fighting faded.

“She okay?” someone’s voice warbled.

“Not sure.”

Adrienne tried to answer but wasn’t able to. She felt herself lifted off the hard concrete. For what felt like a million years, she floated in the in-between place, unable to fully enter consciousness or unconsciousness.

The scent of cinnamon rolls reached her. It broke the spell, and she breathed in deeply then opened her eyes. Fluorescent light glared overhead, blinding her for a moment.

Adrienne blinked and twisted her head to see a portly African-American lady seated in front of an ancient computer. By the look of the sagging walls, old technology and aging equipment, she was in a free medical clinic. It was the only type of doctor her mother took them to back home.

Adrienne pushed herself up.

“Those boys normally don’t bring in pretty little white girls whose daddies might sue,” the woman in nurse clothing said, glaring at someone across the room. “That’s a one way ticket to jail, Rene.”

“I wasn’t the one who hit her!” Rene, the young man with blue-green eyes, retorted. “This stupid girl walked into our territory like she owned that shit. Besides, police won’t touch me.”

“Yo’ mama know you cuss? Ima tell her. You lucky if all that happens is she beats your ass. Black man or poor man like you hit a white girl, he goes to jail. Forever. Look at my husband.”

“I’m okay,” Adrienne said. “Aren’t I?”

The large woman eyed her. “Yeah. You okay. Bumped your head. Take Tylenol if it hurts.”

“Okay,” Adrienne said. Her stomach was rumbling from missing dinner, and the smell was driving her crazy. “Are there cinnamon rolls somewhere?”

“Never fails.” Rene’s aunt hefted herself up. “You got insurance?”

Adrienne shook her head.

“I ain’t even doin’ a file on you. Waste of my time.” She walked out.

Adrienne touched her head gingerly. She had a headache and a bruise on one temple. She looked at Rene. He sat on a bright orange chair clearly bought from a school auction next to a counter with a peeling top. His striking eyes were on her. He’d put on a sweatshirt to cover the weapons at his waist and the tattoos on his arms. What made her blood race, the danger he radiated or the fact he’d carried her here and stuck around to make sure she was okay?

“You brought me here?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“What the f…” He shot a glance towards the door where his aunt had gone. “… hell were you doing there? You new in town? Didn’t no one tell you that you don’t just walk up in some alley in the Projects?”

“Jax took something from me,” she said firmly. “I want it back.”

“What he take that make you do something so stupid? You want to get hurt? Cuz that’s what my people do to little white girls like you alone in our allies.”

She flushed. “You helped me.”

“Once. You get one freebie for being ballsy enough to chase down my brother.”

“Jax is your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Why has he been following me?” she asked.

Rene shrugged. “None of my damn business. Or yours.”

“Don’t you say damn,” his aunt said, walking through the doorway. She slapped him on the back of the head.

“It’s in the Bible, like hell!” he snapped.

Adrienne giggled.

“Here. Don’t call the police,” his aunt said, holding out a warm, fragrant roll on a paper plate with a fork and napkin tucked beneath. “You got that, girl?”

Adrienne nodded and accepted it. She took a huge bite and almost sighed. The rolls were fresh and homemade, the slightly sweet bread and thick icing melting in her mouth.

“Where’s mine?” Rene complained.

“With your mama. Get your ass home, Rene.”

“I’m twenty-two. A grown man. I don’t listen to my mama.”

“You’re too skinny. You want me to send the tray with you?” his aunt asked, her eyes going over Adrienne.

She shook her head and wolfed down the roll.

“I never seen a girl eat so fast,” Rene’s aunt said. “You get your ass home, too. I got a line of people to see. Take your bag.”

Adrienne swallowed the last of what was probably her dinner and hopped off the table. Grabbing her backpack, she followed Rene into the crowded waiting room of the free clinic and outside into the balmy night.

“I’ll show you how to get home,” he said unhappily.

“I have to find your brother,” she objected.

“Shut up and walk.”

Adrienne stopped, glaring at the back of his head. As if sensing she wasn’t following, he faced her. She crossed her arms.

“You are crazy, girl,” he said, approaching her. He gripped her arms hard. “You know how stupid you are? There’s evil in these streets.” Despite the gruff tone, there was concern in his voice.

“He took something that belonged to my sister. She died five years ago. It’s important,” she said stubbornly. “If I get killed walking into your alley, then fine. But I can’t let him have something that means so much to me. It ain’t even worth nothing!”

“There’s a killer loose. He targets white girls like you. You really wanna take a chance on our streets over some dead girl?” Rene gazed at her for a long minute.

“Yes,” she said without hesitating.

“Fool.” Like his brother, he spun and walked away.

“Rene!” she called. “Will you talk to him for me?”

“He won’t give it back.”

“But why? It’s mine!” Tears of frustration filled her eyes. “It’s all we have left of her. It’s not right for him to take it.”

“Right and wrong are shades of gray on the streets, girl,” he said gruffly, glancing over his shoulder. He let out a sigh. “Don’t cry.”

He reached into his pocket to pull out a wallet on a chain. Tugging something free, he held it out to her.

Adrienne hesitated then stepped forward to take the photograph. It was older, its edges worn from use. She tilted it to see it in the streetlight. It was a picture of Therese at the age of seventeen. Her arms were wrapped around a man with green-blue eyes, whose beaming smile was just as bright as Therese’s.

Adrienne found herself smiling back at the happy couple. She sniffed back her tears. Most of the pictures she had of Therese were from school. None of them were of her oldest sister smiling like this.

“You look like her,” Rene said at her silence. “Real pretty. We’re the same ages they were when they met. Jax twenty-two, your sis seventeen.”

“Why do you have this?” Adrienne asked, looking up at him.

He shrugged again. “There was a time when Jax was normal. He didn’t wear no mask. That changed when your sister died.”

“The skeleton mask? He’s worn it for five years?” she asked in disbelief.

“Except during Yamaya’s rites during the full moon. He takes it off for the ritual.”

“Yemaya,” she repeated, trying to place the name.

He rolled up his sleeve and pointed to the veve of a goddess. It contained a symbol of a fish, a moon and stars.

“The loa of rebirth and women,” he said. “Your sister came to rituals with us. She met Jax on a full moon.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said in a hushed voice. “So he did love her. It’s why he wears the mask?”

“Yeah. He did.”

They shared a reflective sadness, gazing at each other while their thoughts were on their respective loved ones. Rene had lost a piece of his brother when Therese died. He didn’t say it, and she suspected he was too tough to share his feelings, but she sensed he, too, mourned for a sibling.

“I’m sorry, Rene.”

“So am I,” he admitted. “You a good girl, Adrienne. I don’t want nothing bad to happen to you.”

She smiled, touched by his concern.

“You leave him alone now,” Rene said.

“Can you please ask him about the journal?” She tried again.

“Won’t do no good. Jax takes. He doesn’t give nothing.”

“Can I keep this?” she asked, holding up the picture.

“For now. We can share it.”

“You’re being so nice. Why?”

Rene took a step back, as if he was no longer comfortable with his guard down.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t never hurt girls and I don’t like seeing them cry. C’mon, now, keep up.”

Tucking the picture safely in the pocket of her skirt, Adrienne walked with him on the quiet streets. Shadowy figures passed them and disappeared into alleys. Not eager to end up at the clinic again, she crowded near Rene, who instinctively wrapped an arm around her. Surprised, she didn’t resist when he pulled her into his side, as if to protect her. His strong touch made her heart somersault again, the way it had when Jayden caught her in the cafeteria. It would be easy to sink into his body and let his heat and strength surround her.

Was Rene being nice or was there more to his touch?

“Why is your brother following me?” she pursued, needing a distraction from her racing blood.

“Jax does what he wants. He runs the streets. I don’t ask questions.”

Adrienne almost asked how her sweet sister ended up dating a gang leader and if that was what got her killed. She kept the question to herself, sensing her welcome was quickly wearing out with Rene. It did make her think again about the dark streak she’d sensed in Therese. Was her sister drawn to the danger of the streets? The excitement of being with someone like Jax or Renee? She saw the appeal of being with Rene. It was in his possessive touch and the sense he had a good heart beneath the tough exterior.

“He might be trying to protect you,” Rene said after a moment. “He blames hisself for what happened to Therese.”

“Why?”

“Girl, if I knew …” He gave her a warning look.

Adrienne sighed. Every day since the journal arrived, she crept a little closer to learning more about her sister.

“I miss her,” she murmured. “I just want to know what happened when she came to New Orleans.”

“I don’t remember much,” he said. “She was real pretty and real nice. She sang at the church, too.”

Adrienne smiled, comforted by the image in her mind and happy to share something with her long gone sister.

They continued walking. They weren’t far from her block, and she soon recognized her bus stop when they passed it.

“Hey.”

She turned, surprised by the familiar voice. Rene tensed instantly, reaching towards the weapons at his waist.

“Back up,” he ordered.

“It’s okay,” Adrienne said.

“You know him?”

She nodded, a smile crossing her face. Jayden stood before her, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. His dark eyes went from Rene to her, and he offered a small – if tense – smile.

“Your daddy and I have been looking everywhere for you,” Jayden said.

“Really?” she perked, warmth spreading through her.

“We’re good, man,” Jayden said to Rene, gaze wary.

“Whatever,” Rene muttered, moving away. “Remember what I said, girl. Stay out of the alleys.”

“Not until your brother returns my property!” she called after him.

He flipped her off without turning.

She rolled her eyes then faced Jayden.

“I, um … what’re you doing here?” she asked.

“We have a study date. Remember?” He smiled, eyes sparkling.

Adrienne nodded, her heart somersaulting. Jayden had come to rescue her, without knowing much more about her than she was a scholarship student who sang.

He was incredible.

Jayden’s attention settled on her scraped temple. Almost absently, he reached into his pocket and pulled free a Band-Aid. He drew near her and opened it.

Adrienne froze, once again amazed by his height and strength. He was strong enough to fling a football a hundred yards with no effort, yet his touch was gentle as he pressed the Band-Aid to her temple with long, slender fingers. He smelled good, like woodsy cologne.

“I have three sisters, two little ones,” he explained. “My dad is known in the tech world as the black Steve Jobs and my stepmother is on more charity boards than I can count. They live in meetings. I pretty much raised the little ones, with the help of my stepsister. I should’ve bought stock in Band-Aids.” Despite his wry words, there was affection in his voice. He lowered his hands, his body close enough for her to feel his warmth.

“Thank you,” she murmured, face hot.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “What’re you doing out here alone?”

She sighed. “I know. Stay out of alleys.”

“I just met you. I don’t want you disappearing before we get to know each other.”

Of all the lectures she’d gotten about being careful, Jayden’s reasoning was the only one she agreed with. Her insides hummed with excitement.

“Okay?” he asked. He reached forward to tuck her hair behind one ear. The touch ratcheted up her body’s awareness to how close he was.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Let’s get back. Your daddy was a mess when I left him.” Jayden started walking.

“Oh, god. Was he nice to you?” she asked. “I’m so sorry if not. He’s um, well … a little old school.”

“He was fine after the initial … introductions.” Jayden cleared his throat.

Adrienne laughed, mortified of what her father must have said to make Jayden uncomfortable. Light glinted off the necklace he wore. Wanting to change the subject, Adrienne focused on it.

“Those almost look like dog tags. But round,” she said, squinting to see the writing.

“They are. I guess back in the day, they were round,” Jayden said, looking down. “My grandmama gave these to me. Said my great grandpapa wanted me to have them.”

A troubled look crossed his face. He shook his head and smiled once more.

“She’s into voodoo and talking to dead people or whatever,” he explained.

“Oh. You don’t believe in that stuff?” Adrienne asked cautiously.

“No way. Superstitions like that are for the ignorant,” he said firmly.

She felt her face warm for a different reason. Her mother’s family was highly superstitious, and although her father hated voodoo, he respected it. He was born and raised in New Orleans, a city where magic was integrated into the community. She, too, believed in the power of her ancestral spirits to help her, magic and gods, even if she was a practicing Baptist.

“What did the guy take from you?” Jayden asked.

“Oh, nothing really,” she murmured. “Just a journal.”

“You confronted a gang member over a journal?”

“It was my sister’s,” she answered shortly, not about to drive him away by telling him about the journal and its connection to voodoo. “She died five years ago.”

“Call me next time you want to do something like that, Adrienne,” he said firmly. “My dad is a personal friend of the Chief of Police. They’ll help you.”

“Wow,” she said, gazing up at him. “Thank you. Oh, you can call me Addy. None of my friends never call me Adrienne.”

He smiled.

They walked quietly towards her building. She sneaked a look at him, wondering what he thought about the rundown apartment building. Had he seen her father’s apartment? Would he think less of her because she was poor?

Why was he interested in the first place?

“How did you get my address?” she asked suddenly.

“Called in a favor to the student who helps with records in the admin office,” Jayden admitted. “I wasn’t sure if you forgot to provide it or were joking or …” He drifted off, waiting,

For the second time in five minutes, she was speechless. He was indirectly asking her a question he hadn’t answered.

“Adrienne? My god!” her father’s exclamation saved her from answering.

“Hi Daddy,” she said.

He wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. Adrienne hugged him back, hearing how fast his heart was beating.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, pulling away and shaking her lightly. “There are gangs in this neighborhood. Do you have any idea how many bodies the cops find here in a week’s time?”

He was angry and scared, a combination that almost made her smile. As lost as he sometimes seemed, he really cared about her.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she murmured. “I’m okay. Promise.”

“What happened to your head?” His sharp gaze rested on the Band-Aid then went to Jayden. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No, Daddy,” she half-lied. “I fell and hit my head in one of the alleys. Kinda knocked me out. Jayden bandaged me up.” She twisted to smile at Jayden.

“Jayden? The kid you’re tutoring from school?”

Her mouth fell open.

“Yes, sir,” Jayden said. “I can’t have my mentor bleeding to death before I pass Algebra.”

“You won’t be doing no tutoring in our home, Addy. You take him to the library.”

Adrienne gazed at Jayden, dismayed. She was grateful her daddy hadn’t just sent him away and to Jayden for letting her dad think she was smart enough to tutor anyone in math.

Jayden winked.

She grinned.

“Come on,” her dad said. “I have to be in to work early and dinner won’t make itself.” He started towards the entrance of their building. “Go home, boy. Don’t you come by again.”

“Daddy-” Adrienne objected.

“It’s late,” he barked.

“I am so sorry, Jayden,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” Jayden said.

She waited until the door to the apartment building closed behind her father. “You told him I was tutoring you?” she asked.

“Sorta,” Jayden said with a laugh. “Told me no daughter of his would date a black man ever. I figured it was safer to play the stereotype and told him I’d stay out of jail better if I got a good education. He seemed okay with that.”

“Oh, my god!” she said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Jayden.”

“It’s funny. I’m not black enough to my mom’s family, and I’m too black for your dad,” he said, shaking his head.

“I think you’re perfect.”

He smiled. The look was dazzling, a combination of natural good looks and an inner glow that made her realize how much a stranger liked her to search the gang-run streets of her neighborhood after dark to make sure she was okay.

“I mean, I think you’re …” She drifted off, embarrassed. “… probably worrying your parents by being out with a white girl. No good ever came of that, right?”

“You might teach me to steal or something.”

She laughed, and he grinned.

“Go inside, before your daddy comes back with the shotgun,” he said.

“Thank you, Jayden.” She held his gaze as she backed her way to the door of her apartment building. Adrienne pushed it open and went inside, pausing to wave.

Jayden waved back then started away towards a row of dark cars parked across the street.

Adrienne watched him get into one. Seconds later, the taillights glowed red. He flipped on the headlights then eased out of the parallel parking spot and drove away.

The Red Man stood behind a black motorcycle parked beneath the streetlight nearest to where Jayden had been parked.

Adrienne watched the unnatural being watching her, at a loss as to what it was he sought from her. He made an effort to find her and show himself, but he hadn’t tried to talk to her.

Why?

“Adrienne!”

“Coming, Daddy.”

Adrienne retreated to the depths of the elevator, where her father waited.

“How many times do I have to tell you not –” he began.

She listened to the lecture, mind on the events of her evening. She had more questions for her cards tonight, and she was surprised to realize that she wanted to know more about Rene.

Chapter Nine

Jayden was still smiling when he merged onto the freeway a few minutes later. Adrienne’s laugh, her beautiful eyes … she made him feel good about himself, something Kimmie and his parents never really did.

He never imagined he could feel so much concern for a person he barely knew. The two hours he spent looking for her made him realize how far under his skin she already was. Maybe it was hearing her sing or maybe it was how different she was. She wasn’t like the guarded, selfish girls he normally dated and definitely not spoiled like his sisters.

She was genuinely sweet, gorgeous, and gifted. He thought of his father’s warning about not drawing attention to himself. The South was still conservative in its view of racial dating. Would that draw attention to him and threaten to expose the family secret? Adrienne was poor, and her daddy was…backwards. Would they make for good media fodder?

She was most likely someone his father wouldn’t approve of. There couldn’t be anything permanent between him and Adrienne, but he could enjoy himself for a while. The rebellious streak in him didn’t want to give up Adrienne the way he’d given up control over the rest of his life to his parents, teachers and coach. No, he could be himself with Addy, and she liked that about him.

His cell rang, jarring him out of his warm thoughts.

“Jay?” It was his mother. “Did you call?”

He clicked the icon on the car’s dashboard to engage the Bluetooth, aware his mother would yell otherwise once she found out he was driving.

“Hi, Mama,” he said. “Yeah I called earlier.”

“I just got off the phone with Grandmama. Went to the grocery store before.”

“Cool,” Jayden said. “She get her AC fixed yet?”

“No.” His mother made a sound of frustration. “I don’t think she never will. You wearing your dog tags?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“She said to tell you not to take them off, even for football.”

“I only take them off in the shower,” he replied.

“Not even then, Jayden. She told me what she told you. You never told me she said you were going to die!” His mother was angry. “If I found out you took off those –”

“Mama, can you please stop with this voodoo crap?” he demanded. “It’s not real. I wear the tags because they’re a family heirloom.” One I don’t need to be ashamed of.

“Don’t you talk about our religion like that, Jayden. She’s trying to save your life.”

“All right, fine,” he said, not wanting to end his night arguing with his mother. “I’m wearing them. Okay?”

“That’s not all she told me.”

God, please, just cut me a break for once, he pleaded silently.

“She told me who will kill you if you take them off.”

“Fine. Who?” he asked.

“A damsel in distress.”

“What?”

“She said it was on the day of a full moon. A white girl with white hair and eyes like jewels.”

Jayden’s brow furrowed. The description sounded a lot like Adrienne, though it didn’t seem possible his grandmama could know about her. Tara was the only one who knew he liked Adrienne, and Tara wouldn’t dare stoop to the level of talking to his poor relations.

“Grandmama hates white people,” he said. “You sure she’s not just venting?”

“Grandmama does not hate white people. The loa Brigit is white and we worship her.”

“So she hates non-deity white people.”

“Will you just listen to me for once, Jay?”

He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to hang up on his mother.

“Grandmama said grandpapa told her this morning you’d meet this white zombie this week and that she’s from a lost family line sworn to black magic.”

“Is that it?”

“She said this family is cursed, Jayden. The white zombie is gonna kill you, and it’s all your daddy’s fault.”

Of course. Everything is. “How will I know this white zombie from any other white girl?” he asked, amused.

“Grandmama says the curse took the firstborn in the zombie’s family.”

Jayden gripped the steering wheel, recalling Adrienne’s sister. “How does grandmama come up with this?”

“The spirits tell her.”

“She told me that my great grandpapa would protect me after the zombie killed me. Does that make me a zombie, too? Will I be trying to eat other people’s brains?”

“Don’t be disrespectful, Jayden. The walking dead look and act like normal people. If grandmama has to bring you back with a zombie rite, maybe. If the EMTs bring you back, probably not. Why you ask? You meet the zombie?”

“No.”

He wanted to pry more into the zombie business, but didn’t dare for fear his mother might catch on that he’d met someone who fit his grandmama’s description. He wasn’t about to encourage either of them in their unhealthy obsessions with spirits and spells.

“If you find the white zombie, bring her to Grandmama.”

No way in hell. While New Orleans was the voodoo capitol of the South, his family brought their traditions over from Haiti. They were the real thing – nothing commercialized or put on for show. His grandmama made voodoo dolls for good luck. There was a reason there were no stray cats in the neighborhood and a whole lot of mummified cat parts in Grandmama’s shed next to the box of chicken feet. Allegedly, cats and chickens were good luck, though their luck ran out when they crossed paths with his grandmama.

Adrienne, who moved to New Orleans from somewhere else, would run the other way.

Out loud, he said, “All right. Thanks for letting me know, Mama.”

“Just be careful, Jayden. You’re my reason for living.”

“I’ll be around to drive you crazy until you’re a hundred years old,” he promised. “Mama, can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure, Jay.”

“It’s about Izzy.”

Silence.

“Would you consider letting her stay with Daddy full time?”

No response.

“She loves it there. Our stepsister, Chelsea, is her best friend. They go everywhere together. She’s really happy.”

“I been good, Jay,” his mother’s voice was hushed. “I done everything the court said and more.”

“I know, Mama.” Already, he hurt for her. “Isabelle is really happy.”

“She needs to know her relations.”

“When she’s older, I’ll bring her to visit everyone,” he promised.

“I’ll think about it.” She hung up.

Jayden resisted the urge to call her back and press the issue. It was hard for him to broach the subject, even harder not to imagine how poorly his mother might handle the topic. Was she lining up shot glasses? Calling the ex who supplied her with drugs?

He had to have a little faith that she’d do what was right. He was giving her the chance to prove she knew what was best for her daughter. Jayden just wanted her to sign away Izzy willingly in hopes of giving his troubled mother some peace.

He released a breath, thoughts on his grandmama’s latest bizarre prediction.

A white girl with white hair and eyes like jewels.

The description was too accurate for his comfort. He could convince himself it was a coincidence, except for the information Adrienne told him about her sister dying.

He shook his head, spooked for no reason.

Jayden finished the drive to his dad’s and pulled into the smaller garage behind the house. His two young sisters weren’t on the couch waiting for him, which meant Tara had probably dragged them kicking and screaming to bed despite her insistence earlier it was his turn.

Selfish and vain, Tara still had a streak of goodness in her. Sometimes, he forgot she’d come from a background as screwy as his. Tara’s biological parents were both dead. Her mother died of cancer when she was young, and her father passed soon after Chelsea was born. Cherie Washington had adopted the little girl left to her by her dead husband then married Jayden’s daddy, who adopted both girls as his own.

Tara was a good person, if snobby.

The sounds of low talk and scent of cigar smoke came from his father’s study, an indication the dinner party was running late.

He continued down the hallway to the kitchen and automatically checked the refrigerator to make sure the chef had prepared the lunches for the two young girls before he went to his room.

Alone in the quiet room, he flung himself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts fluttered between Adrienne’s incredible smile and his mother’s uncanny warning.

He’d never believed in that voodoo crap. He wasn’t about to tonight.

Rousing himself from his thoughts, he set his football gear by the door and went to bed.

After a grueling football practice and fast breakfast, Jayden was ready for a nap. He made it though his first period before going to the Coffee Corner. Mickey was there with a cup in his hand already.

“That thing’s bigger than you,” Jayden teased.

“I’m not going to make it,” Mickey groaned.

“Tell me about it.”

“Where were you last night?”

Jayden smiled mysteriously. He wasn’t certain how to answer, because there was no easy way to explain he’d spent two hours walking around the Iberville Projects looking for a girl no one knew he was interested in.

Mickey perked up. “Kimmie?” he guessed.

Jayden shook his head.

“Who?”

“Let me get my coffee.”

Jayden went through the line then met Mickey’s gaze. He nodded his head to the side, indicating Mickey should follow him.

Mickey did.

“You know the singing angel?” Jayden asked.

“No way!”

“Nothing serious. Just tutoring her.”

“So … you’re not asking her to Homecoming?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Kimmie would make your life hell.”

And Adrienne’s. Jayden considered, aware it was going to be hard enough for Adrienne to fit in as a scholarship student without Kimmie turning the school against her.

He shouldn’t have to be concerned with what Kimmie thought. It bothered him today more than usual. There were a lot of reasons not to pursue Adrienne: his father, Kimmie, school, the drama of his personal life. Yet he was drawn to her in a way that seemed too strong to resist. Something about her was special.

“Maybe I’ll ask her,” Mickey mused.

“No.”

Mickey laughed. “Okay. Off limits. I get it.”

“Ugh. I just want to play football and graduate valedictorian so I can run away to college. I don’t need more girl drama,” Jayden said.

At that moment, he saw Adrienne, walking with Tara down the hallway. Suspicious of his stepsister’s intentions, he caught her eye and lifted an eyebrow. She grinned.

Jayden scowled. His eyes went to the small form of Adrienne, whose face glowed. Her long hair was in a braid down her back.

“Earth to Jayden,” Mickey teased, waving a hand in front of his eyes. “You’re right. No drama.”

Jayden batted his hand away, aware he stood in the middle of the hallway, gaze on Adrienne.

“She’s just so … pretty,” he said.

“She’s cute. She’s no Tara, though.”

“Dude, I have to live with that. Trust me – you couldn’t handle it,” Jayden said with a smile.

“I’d put up with hell for a chance.”

I know the feeling. Jayden’s eyes strayed once more in the direction Adrienne had gone. He’d ignore the strange warning his grandmama gave him and Adrienne’s father’s racism for a chance to date her.

“Later,” Mickey said, breaking away.

“Later.” Jayden shook his head and headed down the hall.

“How about today?”

He turned at Kimmie’s voice. She stood a few feet behind him, her dark eyes taking in his face closely.

“You still don’t want to date me?” she prodded.

“What? Did you buy a new spell?” he asked.

“Two. One to make you forget every other girl and one to make you love me.”

Jayden rolled his eyes. “The answer is no. I’m telling you. Go get your money back.”

She gazed at him critically. Her eyes fell to the dog tags he wore, and a look of intent interest crossed her face.

“Are you wearing a protection spell?” she asked.

“Goodbye, Kimmie,” he replied and walked away.

She didn’t respond.

Jayden went to his next class and sat down, checking his emails. He had the usual from the guys on the team, but it was Adrienne’s email that caught his attention. He opened it.

Hi J-

Thank you again for rescuing this damsel in distress last night. Your Band-Aid saved my life LOL. We can study at the library tonight or somewhere else. (If you still want to study with me.)

A.

Jayden re-read it. Damsel in distress. The phrase shouldn’t have disturbed him. After all, he didn’t believe in his grandmama’s crazy talk. He reminded himself that people who won the lotto got lucky guessing the right numbers. Maybe – on occasion – his grandmama did, too.

He typed a quick response.

A-

I’ve got to go directly home after school to babysit my two little sisters. I’ll be free by six. Meet at six, campus library?

J.

PS – lunch today?

He suffered through AP American History and Chemistry before her response came right before the lunch break.

J-

If you buy me lunch, you have to buy Emma lunch, too. So we don’t have to do lunch.

A.

He snorted and responded with a quick note for them both to meet him by the cafeteria in a few minutes.

Jayden went to his locker to put away everything but his wallet.

“Hey, Jay.”

“Yeah?” He glanced over at Tara. Her brunette hair was up in a ponytail, her makeup perfect and sophisticated as usual. A senior as well, their birthdays were separated by two months, and she’d opted to change her last name to their father’s after he officially adopted them. Washington was embossed across the leather case of her iPad.

“So I talked to Adrienne,” she said, leaning against the locker. “She’s real cool. You know she’s the girl who read my cards Sunday, right?”

“What? No way. She seems too … cool to be into that stuff.”

“Whatever, Jay. You can be such a jerk sometimes.”

Jayden closed his locker. “Is that it?”

“Kimmie’s gonna prank her Friday at the pep rally in front of the whole school.”

“How bad?”

“It’s stupid. She’s buying a spell from a bokor.”

“If it’s the same one she buys spells from to use on me, I’m not worried,” he replied. “That’s it? Just some stupid voodoo spell?”

“Well, for now!” Tara retorted. “She’ll prank her and kick her off the team. That’s if Kimmie doesn’t catch you staring at her all googly-eyed.”

“I don’t stare at her like that!”

“You so do, Jay. It’s so obvious. My big brother is googly-eyed!” Tara said in a voice she’d use to talk to a baby. She reached up and pinched his cheeks.

“Whatever,” he said and pushed her hands away. “Mickey –”

“Don’t start!” she snapped, holding up a hand. “I can’t stand that squirrely little man!”

Jayden laughed at the description. Her piece spoken, Tara marched away.

There were days when he could almost appreciate his stepsister. Tara was snobby and self-centered, but she wasn’t mean like Kimmie. No, Tara just thought the world revolved around her. She never went out of her way to prank anyone, and she’d always sided with him against Kimmie, her frenemy.

He went to the cafeteria and saw Adrienne and Emma awaiting him. Adrienne looked ready to bolt again and was holding her iPad tightly enough that her knuckles were white. Emma’s eyes widened at his approach, as if she didn’t realize he was serious until he showed up. She didn’t appear to be particularly pleased to see him. More nervous, which Jayden assumed was because she thought everyone at school was as angry with her about the accident last year as Kimmie.

“Hey, girls,” he said, flashing a smile.

Adrienne flushed. Emma appeared distraught.

He didn’t know what Adrienne found in Emma, who had been as stuck up as Kimmie from what he remembered of her, but he understood how hard it was for girls to not do something without their friends. Kimmie and Tara couldn’t.

He motioned them into the cafeteria. Emma made a beeline for the salad station, and Adrienne trailed.

Jayden grimaced. He didn’t eat salads. At least, not as main meals.

“She’s on a strict diet,” Adrienne explained when he reached them at the salad station.

“I need a cheeseburger or chicken or something,” he said, eyeing the greens displayed in shallow metal bins before them.

Adrienne giggled.

“You eat salads every day?” he asked.

She nodded, face red again.

“Salads it is,” he said cheerfully.

Adrienne appeared relieved.

He ordered the biggest Caesar salad they’d make him, paid for all three and joined them at a table in the corner.

“Jayden,” Emma said. “Did you really break up with Kimmie?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“I wonder if she’ll ever decide not to be mad at me.”

“She’s mad at both of us now. Not that I care. I’ve got enough going on to deal with that drama.”

Emma smiled. “Me, too.” She appeared to be relieved.

Adrienne was quiet.

“Oh, isn’t this cute?” Kimmie’s overly sweet voice edged into their silence.

“You lose a bet and have to eat with losers?” Kayla asked him.

Emma’s face turned red. Adrienne, however, looked angry.

“You, too, Addy,” Kimmie added. “You should be eating with us over there.” She pointed to the table where Tara and a couple other members of the cheer squad sat.

“I’m okay here. Thanks,” Adrienne replied quietly. “Emma is my friend.”

“Listen, Addy. You’ll never get a date for Homecoming if you hang out with girls like her. Choose your friends wisely,” Kimmie advised. “I don’t think you can afford a nose job, if she runs you into a brick wall like she did me.”

Adrienne glanced at Emma, who looked upset. Unable to tolerate the thought of a girl crying, Jayden stepped in.

“Hey, Kimmie, be nice,” he said. “It was an accident.”

“Whatever. You weren’t there,” Kimmie snapped. “Maybe you can take her to Homecoming, since I already have a date.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” he said calmly, unwilling to let her provoke him like she was trying to do.

Kimmie appeared as stunned as Emma. Adrienne was gazing at him hard, trying to figure out if he was being insincere like Kimmie.

“I brought this for you,” Kimmie said and set down a drink in front of Adrienne. “I read it’s supposed to be good for singers. Since you’ll be singing at the pep rally tomorrow, I wanted to do something nice for your first one.”

“Really?” Adrienne asked, features softening. “Thank you, Kimmie.”

“I’m not a jerk,” Kimmie said.

These words were meant for Jayden, and he ignored them to stuff his mouth with salad.

“We’ll see you at practice, Addy,” Kayla added.

“Thank you,” Adrienne said, a smile crossing her features.

The two cheerleaders walked back towards their table. Jayden picked up the drink Kimmie left, curious of its contents. Aware of Kimmie’s penchant for voodoo spells, he checked to make sure the seal was still intact before replacing the bottle.

“It’s supposed to be pH balanced and is expensive,” Adrienne explained. “I’ve heard of it but never tried it before.”

“Are you really taking me to Homecoming?” Emma asked, staring at him.

Damn. Jayden pointed to his mouth, indicating he’d answer when he was done chewing. He thought hard. If he went with anyone, it should be Adrienne. The look on Emma’s face was so hopeful, though, that he feared what might happen if he said no.

Adrienne was also expectant, as if she wanted him to take Emma. She was too sensitive about her status at school to suspect he was going to ask her.

“Sure,” he said at last. “As friends.”

Emma was stunned. Tears lined her eyes, and he felt badly for her. He knew she’d fallen out of favor with the popular girls like Kimmie, but he didn’t realize she was completely shunned. It didn’t seem right for her to be so miserable over an accident. Everyone in the car was drinking underage, and it could’ve been any one of them at the wheel. They were all at fault or being stupid in the first place.

Adrienne grinned, as though it was her who just got asked.

Jayden forced himself to smile back.

What the hell did I get myself into?

A peek at Adrienne’s unguarded, adoring look, and he knew why he’d asked the least popular girl at school to Homecoming.

His phone rang. He glanced down.

“It’s my mom,” he told them, standing. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The girls were too happy to understand how relieved he was to escape. He ducked out of the cafeteria into the hallway.

“Hi, Mama,” he said into the phone. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Grandmama wants you to come by tonight and fix her AC.”

“I don’t know anything about repairing an air conditioner,” he objected, startled by the bizarre request. “You know I can barely change a light bulb.”

“I told her you wouldn’t do it, even though it’s the only thing she’s ever asked you to do.”

Jayden rubbed his forehead. “I’m suppose to tutor someone tonight. Grandmama lives forty-five minutes away on a day with no traffic.”

“If you go, we can talk about Izzy,” his mother said.

He was quiet, debating. His mom didn’t always follow up on her promises, but did he risk losing the chance she’d talk to him about it?

“Fine, Jayden. Don’t go. I will.”

“Mama you can’t fix an AC any better than I can. Let me send out a repairman. I’ve been saving my allowance. I can afford it.” He wasn’t about to mention the credit card his father gave him and Tara when they turned sixteen. He’d caught his mother taking money out of his wallet once, claiming it was okay, since it was actually his father’s, and his daddy had more.

“We don’t need your charity, Jayden! Don’t you be like your daddy. You can’t just throw money at someone and they go away. Your grandmama gave you those tags. You should be grateful.”

“All right. All right.” He sighed, irritated. “I’ll ask Tara to watch Izzy after school and head out as soon as I can. Then we’ll talk.”

“Thank you,” his mother said. “Take that kid Mickey with you. He can throw the ball with Uncle Tommy.”

“Right. Listen, I’ve gotta get to class,” he lied. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

“Thank you, Jayden.”

“You’re welcome, Mama.” He hung up. For a moment, he stood alone in the quiet hallway, wondering what he was going to tell Adrienne.

Dared he take her out to his grandmama’s? Part of him was curious to see what his grandmama said about Adrienne when they met. Would she realize her white zombie talk was nonsense when she saw how sweet Adrienne was?

He couldn’t get the odd warnings out of his thoughts, even if he couldn’t bring himself to believe them, either.

The longer he thought, the more he realized he was looking for an excuse to spend time with Adrienne. It was almost two hours round trip. They’d have time to talk. Maybe he could take her and have her stay in the car while he made an appearance at his grandmama’s and promptly offered to pay for a real repairman to help her.

It was the plan that let him see Adrienne without letting down his family, either.

The warning bell rang, indicating lunch ended in ten minutes. Jayden tucked his phone away and rejoined the girls, who were both smiling. He said nothing of the after school trip to Adrienne, trying to figure out how to ask her to go out of her way when he’d already promised to tutor her.

“Come on, Addy. We have to get to class,” Emma said after a moment and rose. “Thank you for lunch, Jayden.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

Emma limped away.

“You didn’t eat,” he said, looking at Adrienne’s plate.

“I don’t really like salad,” she admitted.

Jayden laughed and pushed his away. “Me neither. “

“Thank you for humoring Emma. She’s a real sweet girl and everyone treats her badly.”

“Anything for you.”

Adrienne flushed. She murmured something he couldn’t hear then fled.

Jayden waited until they were both gone before crossing to the grill. He ordered two fried chicken sandwiches and wolfed them down on his way to his first afternoon class, where he spent half an hour phrasing his email to Adrienne.

Chapter Ten

An hour after school ended, Adrienne sat in the car with Jayden. They’d been talking about classes she was struggling in for over half an hour as he drove them north of New Orleans, towards the house of his grandmother. Still unable to believe he’d asked, she was nervous enough about being alone with him that she could hardly sit still.

Quiet fell after she explained what classes she’d taken in math before coming to the academy.

She leaned down and reached into her book bag, discreetly pulling a card to see how the visit was going to go.

The cards had their own agenda. Adrienne stared at them, mesmerized by a vision. It was unlike any communication she’d ever experienced before with the spirits. Instead of a familiar symbol for her to interpret, a scene played out on the cards.

Two little girls were playing with a skeleton key. They looked like they were in a closet somewhere, if the clothes hanging on one side of them were any indication.

The key looked a lot like the one in the mark on her shoulder.

As she watched, the girl with a birthmark between her eyes and a scar down the side of her face took the key and held it in both hands. The metal morphed and grew, snaking around her wrists to form manacles. As if it were alive, it then began to spread, winding its way up the girl’s arms, across her body and shoulders, until her entire body was trapped.

The vision flashed away. Adrienne found herself shaking the card to see if it returned.

According to her sticky notes, she was supposed to find a key. Maybe it was real. If so, who were the little girls? Where were they? Why did they have the key she needed?

“My mama’s family is a little poor and um, backwards,” Jayden said, interrupting her thoughts.

Adrienne sat back quickly and glanced at him, sensing his tension.

“My daddy has the money. I try to be diplomatic and keep Mama happy. Sometimes it’s hard.”

“My parents are both poor, but my mama is a little crazy,” Adrienne said. “I’m used to backwards.”

Does he think I’m backwards? She glanced down at her nails. Maybe she could afford to spend a little of what she saved to get stylish nail polish and a pair of jeans that weren’t hand-me-downs.

Jayden left the highway and turned down a residential road.

She took in the housing as they wound through a large neighborhood. The structures were getting worse and worse looking, with some boarded up and covered in graffiti while others were abandoned and still others appeared to be occupied although close to unlivable.

“This looks like home,” she said. “Except most of the damage was done by hurricanes and never repaired.”

“Were you there for the worst of them?”

“No. Mama …” is a voodoo priestess who was told by our ancestors’ spirits the hurricanes were coming. Adrienne sought a better explanation, aware of Jayden’s view on voodoo. “Well, we were out of town at the time. Luckily.”

She sipped the water Kimmie had given her. She’d never noticed the difference in how water tasted, but this was smooth, soft. She almost understood why it was popular among vocalists. If she could afford the ten-dollar a bottle price tag, it would be all she drank.

One day, she promised herself. Once she made it big, she’d take care of her family then buy as much of the special bottled water as she wanted. After all, she was already one step closer to making it as a singer. Tomorrow, at the pep rally, she was singing the National Anthem, something Kimmie arranged for her.

While she didn’t feel comfortable with her footwork in the cheer routines yet, she did know she’d knock them dead when she sang. Then maybe the students would accept her, and maybe for prom, Jayden would ask her to go.

Her secret wish made her giddy. She had eight months to wow the students and win over Jayden. He’d asked her to his grandmama’s; she might not need all eight to work up the courage to ask him if he wanted to see her for more than tutoring.

“That was cool of you to ask Emma to Homecoming,” she said. “You have no idea how happy you made her.”

“She’s a nice girl.” Jayden didn’t sound anywhere near as excited as Emma.

Adrienne couldn’t bring herself to think worse of him, though, not after he’d agreed to go. Even if Kimmie pushed him into it. He could’ve said no – but didn’t. Which meant Jayden was not only handsome and smart, but a good guy.

“What did you tell your daddy so he’d let you come with me?” Jayden asked.

Adrienne laughed. “I sorta lied. Told him I was staying over to work on my cheer routine.”

Jayden smiled. “Hopefully this doesn’t take long and we can get some real studying in.”

“Yeah, sure.” She needed the help, but she hoped he was interested in more than being her tutor.

They pulled into the driveway of a dilapidated house with a middle-aged man seated in a rocking chair on the front porch.

“Ah, Uncle Tommy’s out,” Jayden said with a sigh. “I had hoped to run in and say hi and not drag you in. I’ll have to take you in now.”

“Oh.” Adrienne’s smile faded. He didn’t want her to meet his family?

“Sorry. We’ll be quick.”

Adrienne pushed away the hurt feeling and got out of the car. Jayden led her up to the stairs.

“Uncle Tommy, this is Adrienne,” he said. “She’s from my school.”

“Hi,” Adrienne said, stepping forward with her hand extended.

Uncle Tommy’s dark eyes slid to Jayden in a knowing look that Adrienne couldn’t interpret.

“Nice to meet you.” The words were grumbled, the handshake brief. Uncle Tommy nodded his head towards the front door. “Grandmama’s inside.”

Jayden opened the screen door. Adrienne followed, at once accosted by the heat of the confined home and the scent of cat urine.

It wasn’t much different than her mama’s house. She glanced around the living room with its worn furniture and the stained carpets. From somewhere, she heard a cat meow, and the sounds of pots banging around came from the kitchen.

She felt homesick at the familiarity of the rundown house around her, but Jayden looked out of place, like a prince in a ghetto. He was tense, his gaze taking in the surroundings with a frown.

“It smells worse every time I come,” he muttered.

Adrienne said nothing, thoughts on the strange vision she’d had in the car. It wasn’t something she could share with him. He could definitely never meet her mother and that side of her family. It wasn’t just the voodoo, but the fact Adrienne’s house was worse with three kids and cats running around it.

She studied the back of his head, feeling bad about her mother’s poverty and craziness without Jayden even meeting her. Every once in a while, she thought they were too different to be more than friends. Was this what the cards were trying to tell her?

“Grandmama!” he called, moving towards the sounds in the kitchen.

“She’s downstairs,” a woman’s voice returned. “Jay, you here to fix the AC?”

“Yeah.”

Adrienne entered the kitchen behind him, breathing in the scents of dinner. She missed her mother’s home cooking, too!

“Adrienne, this is my Aunt Bess,” Jayden said, motioning to the tall, slender woman at the sink. “Aunt Bess, this is Adrienne from school. I’m tutoring her.”

Aunt Bess looked her over critically. Adrienne resisted the urge to shrink back into the other room.

“AC’s in the living room,” Aunt Bess said shortly and turned around to finish washing dishes.

The cold welcome wasn’t lost on Adrienne. She looked up at Jayden, whose mood appeared to be getting worse. His eyes were on the open door leading to the backyard.

“Stay here, please,” he said, moving away.

Adrienne didn’t need Aunt Bess’s glare to encourage her to return to the living room. One of the cats had come out of hiding and was seated on a chair, watching her though gold eyes.

“Hi, kitty,” she murmured. Crossing to it, Adrienne petted it for a moment.

Her focus shifted to the old AC unit propped up by a two by four. From the stains beneath it on the carpet, it had been leaking for some time before giving out.

The oldest sibling in a household without a father, Adrienne knew a thing or two about repairing household appliances. She moved to the AC unit, needing an outlet for her nervous energy. A bottle of antifreeze was on the top, and she shook it. It was half-full.

Adrienne moved it to the floor and checked the levels. They were fine. The issue wasn’t the antifreeze. Starting with her troubleshooting, she tested different outlets before prying the jammed panel away from the controls.

Something nudged her thigh, and she saw the cat seated as close as it could get to her on the arm of a chair. Adrienne smiled and petted him.

“Sometimes the wires get crossed with the knobs,” she told the cat. “Can you fix this?”

The cat gazed at her. She imagined it was trying to think of an answer and was debating how to tell her without revealing its secret ability to talk.

“Sneaky cat.” Amused by her thoughts, Adrienne laughed quietly and returned her attention to the AC unit.

“You talkin’ to the cat?” Uncle Tommy asked, leaning in the front door.

“Just playing,” Adrienne replied. She picked up a screwdriver someone had left with a few other tools on the floor beneath the AC.

“Hey, Bessy. Lil’ girl thinks she can fix our AC!” he belted out to the woman in the kitchen.

“Maybe,” Adrienne said quickly. “Back home –”

“Well bless her heart. Didn’t know white people got their hands dirty,” Aunt Bess replied, appearing in the living room.

“My dad’s a mechanic,” Adrienne replied.

Confused by the look they exchanged, she concentrated on the AC.

Adrienne jammed the tip of the screwdriver between the back of the control panel and the body of the appliance. She shoved it in with all her strength then yanked. The back of the panel popped free, flew through the air and landed halfway across the living room. She glanced at it then surveyed the wires behind it.

“Do you have any electrical tape, Uncle Tommy?” she asked.

“I reckon.”

“There’s water damage in here.”

“Lemme see.”

She shifted out of the way. Uncle Tommy approached. Peering at the wires, he pointed to one whose plastic covering had been eaten away to expose a rusted wire.

“Yeah. And this should go here,” she said, pointing to the wire that had slipped free of the on-off knob.

“A’ight. I’ll get tape.” He moved away.

“How you know this?” Aunt Bess asked. “Daddy teach you?”

“No. They’re divorced. My mama has two of these in our house in Atlanta,” Adrienne replied. “Can’t afford new ones, so I had to figure out how to keep these working.”

“How you get into Jay’s school?”

“Scholarship.”

Aunt Bess frowned. “Jay’s daddy pays and you get in free. Figures.”

Adrienne didn’t know what to say. She shrugged and retrieved the part that had landed in the middle of the room. She wished hard that Jayden’s relatives left her alone with the cat.

Uncle Tommy returned with tape. Adrienne held out her hand for it, but he eyed her.

“I can do it,” he said curtly.

Nothing she said was going over well. Adrienne stepped aside to watch him. His hands shook as he wrapped tape around the exposed wires. She wondered if he were ill, but didn’t ask, aware of how seriously southern men took what they believed to be their manly duties. Her father was the same. He was never wrong, and when he was, he was all the more convinced he was right, unless she simply dropped the topic. Then his pride wasn’t injured, and he’d come around.

Uncle Tommy reconnected the ignition wire to the knob where it belonged. It took longer for him than it would her; he struggled to keep his hands steady enough to maneuver the pliers and wire in place.

Adrienne watched him, ready to help, prepared to earn more glares. In the end, she didn’t have to. He reconnected it then set the pliers on the top of the unit and flipped it on.

The ancient appliance roared to life with a shudder that rattled the window it hung out of.

“Look at that,” he said.

Adrienne handed him the plastic piece that covered the wires from view. He replaced it then closed up the control panel.

“Why you couldn’t do that before, Tommy?” Aunt Bess demanded. “You got your ass beat by a teenage, white girl.”

“Why you couldn’t do it before?” he snapped. “You got small hands like she does!”

Adrienne crept away. She was thrilled when the appliance worked, but suspected she’d made more of a mess than anything else. She sat down on the couch with the cat, watching the two of them argue over who was the worst sibling for not knowing how to fix the AC unit.

“Tommy, you fixed it?” Jayden called over the sound of the AC. He appeared in the doorway leading from the kitchen.

“Damn right I did,” Uncle Tommy replied.

“No you did not!” Aunt Bess countered. “Lil’ white girl did.”

“Adrienne?” Jayden asked, surprised.

“Oh, you think only a man can fix things?” Aunt Bess demanded.

“No, Bess – “

“Shut it, Jayden. Shut it both of you! If not for me and Mama you’d be out on yo ass, Tommy. And you, Jay, why you couldn’t tell me kids can get scholarships to your school? You don’t want your cousins going?”

Jayden appeared harried while Uncle Tommy grumbled and slammed the door to the porch open.

Adrienne giggled, unable to help the nervous reaction to the insanity around her.

“What you laughing at?” Aunt Bess demanded.

She ducked her head and hugged the cat.

“It’s fixed. We’re done,” Jayden announced. “You ready, Addy?”

“You ain’t taking my cat!”

Adrienne set the cat on the cushion beside her. This time, she imagined the cat silently imploring her to take it with her.

“Sorry, kitty,” she murmured, patting it one last time.

“Jayden, you fix the AC?” another voice with a heavy accent asked from the kitchen.

“Go back outside, Grandmama,” Jayden said, turning to intercept someone. “Tommy fixed it.”

Adrienne almost objected this time, hurt he didn’t want to admit she did it.

“Jay’s girlfriend did it,” Aunt Bess said.

“Jayden has a girlfriend?” the voice asked.

“Grandmama, I think –” Jayden was trying to keep the elderly woman in the kitchen.

Curious as to why, Adrienne moved closer to see.

The round woman in purple stopped pushing at her grandson when Adrienne came into view. Her eyes grew wide, and she mumbled something in French. She hurried further into the kitchen.

Jayden shook his head and turned.

“You ready?” he asked Adrienne, forcing a smile.

She nodded, though she hoped not too eagerly. Jayden rolled his eyes, and she sensed he was as stressed out by the visit as she was. He moved towards the door, where his aunt stood with crossed arms. Adrienne watched him, once again glancing at the cat.

She pitied the poor creature.

“I’ll see you soon, Aunt Bess,” Jayden told his aunt, leaning forward to kiss her.

“Zombie!” shouted his grandmother.

Adrienne barely had time to turn. Purple filled her vision, and something soft knocked her to the ground. She landed with a grunt beneath the weight of the overweight woman on top of her, soon aware of something else: the flash of a pair of poultry shears heading towards her head.

“White zombie!” Jayden’s grandmother hissed at her. “You will not take him!”

Adrienne braced herself to be killed by the crazy woman with gold teeth, too shocked to scream.

Instead, Jayden’s grandmother grabbed a handful of her hair and sliced through it, taking a piece of Adrienne’s earlobe with it.

She screamed at the hot pain.

“Grandmama!” Jayden was the first to recover.

“You will not take him!” his grandmother shouted.

Jayden pried her off of Adrienne, who felt close to fainting at the pain. She reached up and touched her ear, horrified at the blood on her fingers.

“Why did you do that?” Adrienne asked faintly.

Jayden was panting from the effort of pulling the hefty, incensed woman away.

“You brought your family’s curse into my house!” the grandmother shouted, pushing Jayden away. She rose and stuffed Adrienne’s hair in the deep pocket of her housedress.

Aunt Bess and Aunt Tommy stood a few feet away, stunned. Jayden moved between his grandmother and Adrienne.

Adrienne stood, scared but ensnared by the talk of a family curse. How did Grandmama know?

Jayden gripped her arm and kept her behind him.

“I warn you, Jayden,” his grandmother said. “I warn you!” She reached into her pocket, and Adrienne braced herself for a gun or something worse to appear.

His grandmother withdrew a vial of what looked like blood and flung it at the two of them. Adrienne gasped while Jayden muttered a curse. The liquid seeped into the white shirts of their school uniforms.

“What is this, Grandmama?” Jayden exclaimed, pulling his shirt away from his chest as the wetness spread.

“My most powerful protection spell. Made with my own blood,” she replied proudly. Her eyes settled on Adrienne. “It will kill a zombie.”

Adrienne stared down at her shirt, horrified by the thought of being covered in someone else’s blood. She held the injured earlobe, disgusted by the warm liquid trickling down her hand.

“Adrienne is not a zombie. For the last time, stop with this nonsense!” Jayden yelled. “Stop filling my mother’s head with this ridiculous voodoo shit.”

His grandmother didn’t seem to be paying attention. “The spell does nothing. Her face is the same, but she is not the zombie I saw.”

“You know what? That’s it. Adrienne is a sweet, good person. She sings like an angel – she is an angel,” Jayden snapped, pulling Adrienne towards the door. “After what you did to her, I’m never coming back, Grandmama!”

Adrienne glanced back over her shoulder, as intrigued as she was surprised and grossed out by the blood. Her ear hurt badly enough to make her feel like vomiting.

Jayden, who hated voodoo, had a powerful priestess as a grandmother. One who had recognized Adrienne and her family’s curse.

Grandmama was studying her.

Adrienne turned away, fear running through her again.

They made it outside and to the driveway when Jayden stopped to look at her. She gazed up at him, wanting to cry, but not in front of him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the angry edge leaving his voice. His warm eyes softened. He scoured her features then took the hand covering her ear.

He didn’t seem to care that she was bloody. He pulled her hand away and grimaced.

“I am so sorry, Addy,” he said. “You must hate me.”

“No,” she replied. “Just a little freaked out.” She stopped and swallowed hard, trying to contain the tears that were forming in her eyes. Jayden hesitated then wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t expect the warm embrace or the sensations it caused. She was too aware of the heat racing through her, his scent, the strength in the body pressed to hers to enjoy the hug.

“You really think I’m an angel?” she asked.

“Without a doubt.” Jayden hugged her closer. “I can’t tell you how bad I feel. I never should’ve brought you here.”

“It’s okay, Jayden,” she said, lifting her face to see his eyes. “Your grandmama wanted to protect you.”

“That crazy old bat,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t know how she could’ve done that to my angel.”

My angel. Adrienne’s pain almost disappeared at the gentle words. He meant them. She saw his sincerity in his features. For a moment, she was almost glad she’d been attacked by his crazy grandmother.

“Come on. We gotta get you to a doctor,” he said. “You have to be on your feet and ready to sing for the school tomorrow!” Jayden withdrew and took her hand, walking with her the rest of the way to the car.

Adrienne couldn’t answer. First he’d called her his angel. Now, he held her hand.

He really did like her.

If her ear didn’t hurt, this would replace the day before as the best in her life!

They got into the car. She glanced down at her bloodied shirt, uncertain which was hers and which was his grandmothers. Worse – how did she make a decent impression at school when she had to choose between a soda-stained shirt and a bloodstained one?

“You have a doctor in town or should I go to urgent care?” Jayden asked.

“Um, it’s okay. This doesn’t look that bad,” she replied.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” She feared looking in the mirror to learn how bad it really was.

“I’m taking you somewhere. This is my fault, Adrienne. I’ll pay for it, whatever it costs.”

She flushed. She hated that he’d guessed why she didn’t want to go to the doctor.

“You don’t owe me, Jayden. It’s okay. I can take care of myself,” she said firmly.

“Look, Adrienne, I kinda know you’re probably on scholarship for a reason,” he said. “Not being mean. Just saying I care about you. If you’re hurt, let me fix it.”

“You can drop me off at the free clinic,” she said. “But I won’t let you do more.”

He frowned.

“And … maybe you can take me to that arts and crafts fair,” she said then quickly added, “If you want.”

Jayden glanced at her. “Yeah. Okay. It’s a date.”

Adrienne smiled. If her daddy had a phone, she could call her best friend from Georgia and tell her she was going on her first real date. She’d have to email instead.

“There are napkins in the glove box,” he said.

She wiped her hand on her shirt before opening it then grabbed a handful. Adrienne wadded them up and pressed them to her earlobe. Her adrenaline wore off too fast, and the injured body part began to ache badly.

Her thoughts settled as well, and she dwelled briefly on why Jayden hadn’t wanted his grandmama to meet her. Did the older woman always try to cut off the ears of people, or was there something about the white zombie that Jayden had known about when he took her there? She couldn’t think poorly of Jayden, not with how sweet he was being.

But she did wonder how his grandmother knew of the family curse on sight.

You will not take him! What did this mean? She didn’t know how to even get through Therese’s journal, let alone use magic to do anything to Jayden!

“So your grandmama is into voodoo?” she ventured.

“Unfortunately. She’s ruined the lives of all her kids with that nonsense.”

Sore topic. Adrienne said nothing, wanting him to like her. If he thought she was like his grandmama, there was no way he’d take her on a date.

She wanted to know more but didn’t ask. Clutching her ear all the way back, she was almost relieved when Jayden dropped her off in front of the free clinic. It hurt more than she was willing to tell him.

“You want me to come in?” he asked, eyeing the crumbling brick exterior doubtfully.

“No. I’ll be okay.”

“Adrienne – ”

“Jayden! I can do this.”

“I know you can. I’m just worried,” he said, his warm gaze on her.

“I’ll email when I get home. Okay?” she asked, touched that he was concerned.

“All right,” he said grudgingly.

Adrienne got out before he could insist again. She closed the door and waved with a smile, then faced the free clinic.

Ugh. She smiled until she walked in the front door and saw the overflowing waiting room. There was little more standing room than on the city bus at rush hour. Adrienne squeezed herself to the front to sign in then started to make her way back. Even with a bloodied shirt, she knew she’d wait for a few hours at least.

“You again,” a familiar woman said.

Adrienne turned to see Rene and Jax’s aunt waddling with a small stack of files to the front desk. A stethoscope was draped around her neck, and she wore red scrubs that made her round form look like an apple.

“C’mon, cinnamon rolls,” their aunt grunted. “If you walking with that much blood, can’t be that bad.”

Adrienne almost smiled, but didn’t, aware of the glares she was getting from those who had probably been waiting since noon to be seen. She maneuvered through the patient packed hallway to follow their aunt, who disappeared into a doorway.

“Rene, you and yo’ friend need to stop fighting.” The aunt was saying sternly.

Adrienne walked into the room and saw Rene on a chair near the computer, holding ice against what looked like a black eye. His blue-green eyes glowed, and dried blood was on his shirt.

Rene did a double-take, his eyes narrowing as he took in the blood on Adrienne’s shirt.

“Hop up,” his aunt directed her, patting the exam table.

Adrienne dropped her book bag by the door and obeyed.

“What’s bleedin’?”

“My ear.” Adrienne removed the wad of napkins with a grimace.

Rene’s aunt peered at it. “Cut your lobe right off. You need stitches. Wait here.” She left the room.

Adrienne met Rene’s gaze. He rose and crossed to her, resting his hands on the table on either side of her as he leaned in to see her battle wound. Adrienne’s breath caught in her throat at his nearness. Jayden smelled clean and of cologne; Rene smelled of male musk and sweat, a heady combination she found herself breathing more of.

“She got most your hair. You win at least?” he asked, leaning back.

“That’s um … kinda hard to say,” she said. “Someone attacked me with scissors. I just kinda laid there.” She reached back to feel for her hair.

“So you lost.”

“It wasn’t a real fight.”

Rene raised his eyebrows. His face was covered by two days growth of a beard, his direct gaze and heavy features rendering his appearance dangerous. He was so close, and warmth pooled at the base of her belly. She wondered what it would be like to date someone like him, if he was gentle with his girlfriends like he was tough with the rest of the world. He was a bad boy, the opposite of Jayden, and yet, she found herself attracted to him as well.

“Did you win?” she asked curiously.

“It wasn’t a real fight either.” He turned away and returned to his chair, sinking into it. “You have a fallin’ out with cheerleaders over mascara?”

She rolled her eyes. Adrienne hopped off the table and went to the mirror over the sink. She stared, dismayed. Half of her long hair had been chopped to shoulder-length. She’d have to cut the other half when she got home, or she’d look awful for her singing debut at the school.

Rene’s aunt was right about her ear lobe. Most of it was missing, and it still bled down her neck. She looked awful, covered in blood and with half her hair missing. She bit back tears.

“Some voodoo priestess attacked me,” she said at last and returned to the table. “Was worried I’d take her grandson away or something.”

“No surprise.”

Adrienne looked up, startled.

Rene shrugged.

“What does that mean?” she prodded.

“Jax said your family was cursed. She probably knew it.”

Is it that obvious to everyone? Adrienne absently rubbed the spot on her shoulder that marked the curse. It never saw the light of day and yet, somehow, everyone knew.

“She took my hair and threw blood on me,” Adrienne finished. “No chance she’s not making a voodoo doll or hex to put on me. Like I need another curse.”

Rene snorted, amused.

“It’s not funny, Rene.”

“A’ight.”

What was it with boys? Jayden took her to meet a woman who chopped off her ear and Rene thought curses were funny.

“You should learn to fight,” Rene advised.

“You know how to fight and you’re still here,” she pointed out.

“That’s different. I fought with Jax.”

“Your brother did that to you?”

“He got what he gave!” Rene shot back.

“Why were you fighting?”

“My family ain’t your business.”

“You’re not convincing me that learning to fight will help me at all,” she replied. “Doesn’t seem to do you no good.”

“I didn’t get my ear chopped off. Like I said, this was different. Always different when you fight family.”

“You do that often?” she asked quizzically. “Cuz I never fought any of my sisters.”

“You’re a girl.”

“Whatever.”

“You wanna learn, I’ll show you. You don’t, I won’t. Not my ears getting chopped off,” he said.

“Gee, thanks.”

“What he say?” his aunt demanded, walking in. She smacked Rene on the back of the head.

“I didn’t say nothing,” he growled.

“His mama moved in beside me when he was ten after his daddy ran off and his mama got sick. She don’t walk no more. Practically raised him and this is how he turn out?” his aunt complained.

Adrienne smiled.

“Wipe that smile off, cinnamon rolls. This is gonna hurt. We saving our local anesthetic for people worse off than you,” his aunt told her.

Adrienne’s smile dropped. “You serious?”

“Yep. Can’t hurt as bad as you getting cut up. You be good, and I got cookies this time.” His aunt turned and waved to her nephew, “Come hold her hand. I gotta use both of mine to sew.”

Once more, Rene appeared less than pleased at being burdened with her. He tossed his ice and crossed to the table, slapping his hand palm up on the table beside her.

Adrienne placed a hand in his, not expecting to notice the size, warmth and strength of his. Was it possible to be attracted to two guys? Sweet, dreamy Jayden and Rene, her reluctant thug of a guardian!

“What your name? You been in here twice. I’ll make you a file in case you come back,” his aunt asked. “Hold still.”

“Adrienne St. Croix.” She jerked at the sting of alcohol on her already burning ear. Rene’s aunt cleaned her up quickly then reached for the small tray containing a needle, thread and needle-nosed surgeon’s pliers.

“She look like the girl Jax dated a few years ago,” his aunt observed, pulling off the bloodied gloves and pulling on a clean pair.

“Not really,” Rene replied. “She wasn’t puny.”

“I’m not puny!” Adrienne objected.

“You should let Rene teach you to fight. He had to learn cuz his daddy was the only white man on their block. Might keep you outta here,” his aunt said and lifted the needle.

“I don’t need to – oh, god!” Adrienne’s ears burst into buzzing as agony roared through her. Tunnel vision formed, and she slumped.

“Nice,” Rene muttered.

Adrienne was vaguely aware of his arms circling her to keep her from falling off the table.

“I’m quick,” his aunt said, unconcerned.

The piercing pain made her want to throw up. True to her words, his aunt was fast and had the wound stitched within a few long seconds. Adrienne felt her wipe it down again then bandage it.

“Is she okay?” Rene asked uncertainly.

“She fine,” his aunt said. “Brighten right up when I bring in cookies.”

Adrienne forced herself out of the in-between place. She’d been attacked by a crazy priestess then almost passed out when someone tried to stitch her up. She helped raise her three younger sisters and manage her unstable mom. Of all things, she wasn’t weak, but today made her feel that way.

She drew a deep breath, pulling in Rene’s scent. He was strong and lean beneath the saggy clothing. Her ear throbbed, and his grip was solid.

He held her close until his aunt was done. His hands slid down her arms as he released her but kept one hand on her back to steady her. She rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and enjoying the way his warmth came through his t-shirt.

“You got even whiter,” Rene said, studying her.

Self-awareness spun through her. Did he think she was weak for almost passing out?

His eyes settled on her lips and lingered.

Was he thinking of kissing her?

Adrienne stared at him, startled but thrilled by the idea he was attracted to her. As if sensing her thought, he pulled away from her.

“It’s been a weird day,” she said. Adrienne wiped her face. She felt tired and weak. “Did you have any luck with Jax about the journal?”

“Don’t talk about it here,” Rene snapped quietly, attention shifting to the door.

“Are you walking me home again?” she asked. “Because I want my journal back.”

Rene shrugged and returned to his chair.

“Your cookies,” his aunt said, appearing in the doorway. “You feel okay?”

Adrienne nodded and accepted a sandwich bag with three cookies. They were warm to the touch, and her mouth watered. It was almost dinnertime, and her lunch salads weren’t filling her up at all.

“Go on. Rene, you walk her home. I don’t want to see her here again!”

“I had nothing to do with this!” Rene replied, standing.

“She got issues. The Lord say we take care of people with issues.”

“I don’t have issues,” Adrienne said, dismayed. She stood, wobbled and steadied herself.

“Maybe I should send more cookies. Fatten you up a little. A stiff breeze take you away.” Rene’s aunt laughed loudly.

“Thank you. Again.” Adrienne mumbled and walked out.

Did she have issues? Or at least, did she appear to have issues? Like her mother? People who saw her mother knew she’d bring drama with her, even before she opened her mouth. It was the crazed look in her eyes.

Was Adrienne turning into her?

Double ugh! She started out of the clinic, lost in her thoughts and wincing with each step that seemed to jar her sensitive ear. Judging by the last two days, she had something going on, or she wouldn’t keep finding herself at the free clinic.

Chapter Eleven

When she reached the humid outdoors, Adrienne waited for Rene. She reached into her book bag.

“Are things going to get better?” she whispered.

She pulled out a card.

“Chariot, reversed.” Ick. There was no such thing as a bad card, but this was yet another one of caution. “Okay, so no reckless actions.”

“You read cards?” Rene asked.

She turned to look up at him, one hand going to her hip.

“My journal,” she said once more.

“I’m working on it,” he said. “Really. You can do tarot?”

“Yeah,” she said, replacing the card. Unlike Jayden, she didn’t feel a need to hide herself from Rene.

“I want one,” he said. He moved closer, digging into her book bag.

“I can’t just do it on the spot!” she objected. “I have to sit and concentrate.”

“You’re smart. What this one mean?”

Adrienne rolled her eyes at him, but relented. She snatched it out of his hand. “Strength, reversed. It means you’re stronger than you think.”

“Even the damn cards want me to be a warrior.” He started away. “This is the last time I walk you home.”

“My journal.” Adrienne replaced the card and then followed with a sigh. “Rene, it’s important.”

“Jax ain’t taken off his mask in five years out of respect for your sister. If you think I can just ask him and he gives me the book, you a fool. He won’t do it for a pretty girl like you and he won’t do it for his brother. That book’s going nowhere.”

Pretty. In the course of a few hours, she’d had two guys compliment her. It soothed the pain in her ear to know that tough Rene found her pretty, no matter how irritated he was about walking her home again.

Adrienne nibbled on a cookie, quiet for a moment. “Rene do you think Jax will talk to me about my sister?”

“No.”

“Did she have any friends? Anyone else I can talk to?”

He glanced down at her. “Not dressed like that.”

She purposely didn’t look at her bloodied shirt. She was feeling light-headed enough as it was.

“I’ll change clothes. Then we can go?” she asked quickly.

“What makes you think I got time for you?”

“Because I know where your aunt works, and I’ll tell her if you don’t.”

Rene stopped walking and stared at her. Adrienne held her breath. He muttered something then spun and began walking again.

“C’mon.”

She went. When he didn’t answer, she sank into troubled silence. It seemed like learning more about her sister was within reach, yet no one was willing to talk to her about it. Not her father, not Jax, not Rene. The prickly gang member was the most likely to help her but even he was close-lipped.

They reached her building.

“You got five minutes. Go change,” Rene said gruffly. He took up a position against the building, leaning back with his arms crossed.

“Really?” she asked, brightening.

He tossed his head toward the door.

Adrienne ran. She waited impatiently for the elevator then changed at the speed of light when she reached her daddy’s apartment. With no time to wash the blood from her hair or cut it all to the same length, she shoved it all under a hat. She barely made the five minute deadline and burst through the front door in time to see Rene making an exchange with another man who looked like a gang member or drug dealer.

Whatever Rene received, he shoved in his pocket without acknowledging the other man now headed down the street. Adrienne looked at him critically.

“Are you on drugs?” she asked, approaching.

“You want to see this person or not?” he returned.

“Yes.”

“Then mind your own damn business. C’mon.”

Adrienne said nothing and joined him walking down the sidewalk. He didn’t go far but cut through a vacant alley, crossed a street, entered another alley and walked half a block to an equally run down area with mom-and-pop eateries, apartment buildings and small businesses. Graffiti decorated the walls and curbs while trash clogged the shallow gutters.

He stopped at the Coffee Loa. Decals of veves decorated the windows, which were covered by heavy black drapery. She read the small wording printed in one window.

Bokor services available upon request. Results not guaranteed

Rene walked in.

Adrienne, however, hesitated, hand going to her hurt ear. The last voodoo priestess she met cut off her earlobe.

Rene waited. “Won’t no one attack you here.” He held out one arm.

Adrienne stepped forward. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him as he had the first time he walked her home, assuring her that she would be all right. She relaxed against him.

She entered timidly, glancing around the room. Half of it was a café with a dozen small tables, the other half a store. Haitian and African décor, altars, kits for creating ceremonial veves, spells-in-a-jar, dried animal parts, herbs and other voodoo supplies and knickknacks lined the shelves of the shallow front of the store. A woman in tribal African dress and head wrap sat behind the counter, reading a romance novel.

“Hey, Candace,” Rene said, approaching the counter. “Brought someone who wanted to meet you.” Candace set down her novel and stood. She was tall and slender with intelligent, dark eyes that settled on Adrienne with caution and curiosity.

“The cursed girl’s sister,” she guessed.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Adrienne.”

Adrienne hung back from the counter, waiting for a pair of shears to appear in the woman’s hand. Candace studied her for a moment then moved towards a curtain blocking off the back of the shop from view from the front.

“You must have many questions,” she said.

“I do,” Adrienne replied.

“Come. We will talk.”

Adrienne gave a sidelong glance at Rene, whose response was to push her towards Candace. Adrienne went.

“You have nothing to fear here.” Candace’s smile was kind. “I smell fresh blood. Are you okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. I got hurt today,” Adrienne murmured.

“Come in. Rene, bring my calming tea.”

Adrienne followed her into a small, comfortable room with a table on one side. At the other side was an altar with candles and a wooden image of Papa Legba, the god of good fortune, also known as a good-natured trickster. She relaxed, relieved to see Candace’s family god was not one of the darker gods.

Adrienne sat on a stool opposite Candace.

“Let me see your hand, Adrienne,” Candace said.

Adrienne held her right hand out. Candace took it in her cool palms and peered at it closely. Adrienne waited apprehensively, relieved when Candace leaned back. The woman appeared thoughtful rather than freaked out.

“What do you know of this curse on your family?” Candace asked.

“Not much,” Adrienne admitted. Her hand went to her shoulder automatically. “It’s old. Mama says it claimed my sister and any firstborns in our family.”

“You don’t know why your family bears it?”

“No. Can you tell?” Adrienne lifted her palm curiously.

“I can’t see your past. This type of curse usually is one doled out for punishment of only the greatest of crimes involving blood rites,” Candace said. She frowned, gazing into the distance for a moment. “Horrific crimes.”

“You think my family did wrong?”

“It’s possible. Or you had an enemy whose vengeance knew no limits or morals.”

“No one in my mom’s family would tell me this,” Adrienne admitted. “I asked all kinds of people for help.”

“It’s dangerous to speak of it. I am risking drawing the attention of the dark spirits enforcing the curse, which is why we are seated here to discuss it.” Candace pointed to the veves and protective symbols drawn on the floor beneath the table. “It seems wrong to bear the curse without knowing why.” Her brown eyes were sympathetic.

Adrienne liked her. A lot.

“Tea,” Rene said. He passed through a rattling bead curtain leading to the back room of the store. On a round tray was an old, oriental tea set with two cups and a pot. He set it down then sat in a chair in the corner.

“You will like this,” Candace said to Adrienne. She poured two cups and placed one before Adrienne. “Straight from Africa. A private recipe from my cousins. It will loosen you up and help you channel the spirits.”

Adrienne took her cup, enjoying the warmth of the tea. She sniffed the light green-brown liquid. Its scent was faint and light: jasmine and something woody. She sipped it, pleased to find the flavor just as light.

“What brings you here?” Candace asked.

“I’ve been asking Rene about my sister. He won’t tell me anything,” Adrienne replied.

“I don’t remember nothing important,” he growled from the corner. “I spent most my time taking care of my mother until a couple years ago.”

“Rene,” Candace said calmly. “There was a time you were so sweet and innocent.”

He snorted. “That passed.”

“I know.” Candace appeared sad for a moment. “Kids grow up, I suppose.”

Adrienne drank more tea. There was a familiarity between the two of them, the kind born of tragedy or shared blood. Adrienne experienced the same kinship with Therese’s best friend from Atlanta, who continued to check in on her family, even five years later.

“Jax took my journal.” Adrienne didn’t realize she’d spoken until both looked at her.

She set the tea down, feeling relaxed enough to be drowsy. Candace hadn’t touched her tea, and Adrienne’s gaze lingered on the cup.

“Jax took your journal?” Candace asked, drawing Adrienne’s attention away from the tea.

“I’ve been trying to get it back. It was Therese’s. I think … the tea is … working.”

“Relax and let it. I’ll ask you a few questions and that’s it.”

Adrienne nodded.

The scene turned dream-like. Candace asked her a question she didn’t hear. Candace’s lips moved, but the words were lost in the hazy distance between them.

Adrienne heard herself answer, also not processing what she said. She focused on Candace’s dark eyes while responding to questions she couldn’t understand. At one point, she thought she was writing something instead of talking but couldn’t be certain. She didn’t seem able to control her body, and felt as if she just floated around.

After a while lost in her thoughts, Adrienne found herself reaching for more tea. She sipped and drank.

Blinking, the world around her became clear again, and Adrienne’s senses returned, along with her ability to comprehend what was going on. Rene was seated at the table with them.

She shook her head to clear it of the last of the tea’s effects then peered into the cup.

“What just happened?” she asked.

“The tea was a little strong for you, I think,” Candace said with a warm smile. “Look.” She raised her eyebrows towards a piece of paper in front of Adrienne.

Adrienne looked down and snatched her hands off the table. She’d drawn something while in her stupor: the Red Man, his symbol and a few nonsensical sentences resembling those she’d found in her sister’s journal. In addition, she’d written the word chosen three times and drawn boxes around it. Of all she’d written, she couldn’t take her eyes off the robed man.

“Who is he?” she asked, her heart racing once more.

“I don’t know exactly,” Candace said. “Where I come from, the Red Man is a cannibal-like figure, one who preys on his own kind. I think you know what – or who – he is. Or perhaps, the spirits of those who came before you do and are trying to tell you.”

“I wrote this?”

“You did.”

“My sister’s journal was filled with it.” Adrienne stared at the writing. Like her sister’s, it contained some French, some English, some letters randomly capitalized. “They’re not even words, except for chosen. They make no sense.”

“Perhaps they are not meant to be words. Maybe they mean something else.”

“Like what?”

“Letters are symbols. If you look at them not as part of something bigger but as letters, do they tell you something different?”

Adrienne stared at the writing. She didn’t understand what Candace was trying to tell her.

“A code, a sequence, a private meaning?” Candace prodded.

Adrienne shook her head. She sighed and pushed the paper away from her, eyeing the Red Man she’d drawn.

Candace and Rene exchanged a look. Rene’s crossed arms rested on the back of the chair. He shrugged at Candace’s unspoken communication.

“You think I should know what this is,” Adrienne guessed.

“Your sister knew.”

“Really?”

“From what we know of her, yes,” Candace added. “I never met her. The spirits have told me some about her and that she was cursed and Jax had lost his ways and Rene was sure to follow.”

“Lost his way,” Adrienne murmured. “Because of the gang?”

“Because he hurts people.” Candace’s words were hushed.

Adrienne looked from her to Rene. The gang member’s eyes were on the Red Man in her picture, his face unreadable.

“He didn’t hurt my sister, did he?” she asked, uncertain she wanted to know.

“No,” Candace assured her. “He is … was … innocent when he became entangled in your curse. Rene, you are destined to be a warrior for our gods. We failed with your brother.”

“Jax will be fine,” Rene said gruffly. “I don’t fight for no one but Jax.”

“Adrienne will need your help.”

He glanced at her.

“I don’t need help.” Adrienne gazed back, uncertain what to think. “How do I break the curse?”

Candace gathered up the tea items and replaced them on the tray, thoughtful.

“I told you - you need to learn to fight,” Rene told Adrienne.

“It’s not going to help me with the curse!”

“It wouldn’t hurt to learn self-defense, especially in this neighborhood,” Candace said wisely. “Most curses have some sort of limit on them to prevent innocent people from being hurt and also to prevent the originator from harm. An expiration date, single person or goal, or a way to lift it. While drinking tea, you said there was a limerick your grandmother sang to you when you were little. Do you remember it?”

Adrienne thought hard. Her grandmother sang to them in French. Even so, the elderly woman had died before Adrienne was six.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I can ask my mama.”

“Ask her if she knows what generation the curse is in. That might help us,” Candace said. “I don’t know if I can lift it or shed light on what happened to your sister, but I can try.”

“Really?” Adrienne asked, astonished someone was willing to help when no one in her hometown had been willing to even discuss it. “Why would you help me? I can’t pay you.”

“Multiple reasons,” Candace said, glancing at Rene again. “Moral obligation, mostly. I am a mambos whose specialty is healing.”

“Thank you so much!”

“It’s late, Rene. You should take her home.”

Rene rose before Candace finished speaking, his features tight. Adrienne sensed he was upset, then decided that was usually the case and rose, gaze on Candace.

“So I should come back after I talk to my mama?” she asked.

“That would be fine.”

For the first time since arriving to New Orleans, Adrienne had someone to help her uncover more information about her sister. And about the family curse.

She looked at the picture she’d drawn. How had she known how to write the strange code from her sister’s journal?

Who was the Red Man?

“C’mon,” Rene said brusquely, sweeping out of the private room.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Adrienne said. “I hope to see you again soon.”

“Take care of yourself, Addy,” Candace replied.

Adrienne nodded. She didn’t notice her throbbing ear until she left the shop and reached up to touch it. She grimaced.

“You need to learn to fight,” Rene said. “Or you can stop popping up in my damn territory.”

“Not until I get my journal back!” she snapped.

“Whatever.” He began walking.

Adrienne eyed the sky, hoping she’d beat her daddy home from work. She had to try to get the blood out of her clothes before he discovered what happened. She needed an excuse, too, and right now, saying she got beat up by a gang sounded better than the truth.

“Who was that guy last night?” Rene asked. The odd note in his voice drew her gaze.

“Guy?” she repeated.

“The one who said your daddy was looking for you.”

“Jayden.” She smiled. “He’s a friend from school.”

“Right, and I’m your brother.”

Adrienne giggled at the thought of her daddy raising Rene. “He is just a friend,” she said. “I think.”

“You don’t know?”

She was quiet, debating.

“You want there to be more,” Rene guessed. “Prissy, pansy rich boys. Everyone’s got a type.”

“He’s not prissy or a pansy,” she replied quickly. “He’s a quarterback and a gentleman.”

Rene rolled his eyes.

“You’re a voodoo gang member who lives at home with his mother,” she retorted. “Tell me that’s better!”

“I do not live with my mama. She lives with me!” Rene responded. “You tell him you going to bokors and hanging out with voodoo gang members at night?”

Adrienne flushed.

“I can’t hear you.”

She said nothing.

“Oh, so he don’t know what you’re like outside of school. Nice way to start a relationship.”

“This is my first week at school. Fine. I like him. A lot, but he’s … not like us,” she said.

“So, what? I’m your girlfriend, and he’s your boyfriend? I get to know your secrets and he gets what? A fake you?”

“It’s none of your business, Rene. Your aunt know you on drugs?”

He eyed her. “It’s not drugs.”

“What is it?”

He was still for a moment then reached into the pocket where he’d put whatever he got from the stranger in front of her apartment building. He held out a piece of paper.

Adrienne took it and unfolded it, recognizing the veve of the warrior god, Ogoun. Nothing else was written.

“When a bokor or other member of our House requires a … favor, they send a message like this,” Rene explained. “This is from my uncle. He has an assignment for our crew. He sends a note, I go meet him for details.”

“Oh,” she said. “Assignment?”

“You don’t need to know. Gang stuff.”

“You mean bad stuff. Hurting people, vandalizing buildings, thieving?” she asked.

“Yeah. If we can’t do it through normal methods, we resort to black magic.”

“That’s awful, Rene. I think drugs are better.”

“You got no clue.”

There were times she was attracted to him and times she wanted to kill him. Adrienne didn’t know what to feel about Rene, who loudly proclaimed he didn’t want to help her then walked her home when he could clearly just leave her in some alley.

Irritated with one another, they didn’t talk the rest of the way. Adrienne walked into her building without saying farewell, upset to realize he was at least a little bit right. She’d planned on not telling Jayden anything about her voodoo past or her curse or even ever letting him meet her backwards mother and family.

She reached her daddy’s apartment and was relieved to see it wasn’t quite seven yet. He’d be home soon, but she had time to try to get blood out of her uniform.

She checked her email first and saw a note from Jayden waiting for her.

A-

Just making sure you’re okay.

J.

She felt guilty. She’d spent the evening out with Rene, even if it had been in pursuit of information about her sister. She couldn’t tell Jayden that, though. She hesitated then typed a response.

J-

I am, thank you! The line at the clinic is always long. Tomorrow’s the big day – you get to hear me sing!

A.

She sent the response then emailed her mother, asking about the lullaby her grandmother used to sing.

Afterwards, Adrienne evened out her hair and did her damnedest to scrub out the blood from her school uniform before her daddy got home. She set out her cheer squad uniform, grateful she had the weekend to find white shirts, since both of hers were stained. She wasn’t sure how she’d manage to get her homework done and try to figure out how to catch up in math, when her head was barely above water.

Jayden promised to help.

She told herself this over and over. Emma said he was the smartest kid at school. If anyone could help her, he could. Maybe this weekend, she’d find time to spend with him working on keeping her in school.

Right at eight, her father got home from work.

Adrienne shoved the clothing she’d spent half an hour scrubbing into the tiny dryer and closed it.

“You ready for dinner, Daddy?” she called.

“Yeah, pun’kin.”

Adrienne went to the kitchen. Her ear was hurting. She kept her new hairdo down, hoping her daddy noticed that instead of her missing earlobe.

She opened the cabinet. A sticky note fluttered to the ground. Adrienne picked it up.

Get my journal back.

She stared. The journal was Therese’s. Did that mean whoever left the note was Therese?

How was that possible?

“You change your hair?” her daddy asked.

Adrienne crumpled the note in her hand and shoved it in her pocket as she reached for a box of Hamburger Helper.

“Yeah. Trying to be um, more stylish,” she lied.

“Looks nice.”

“Thanks.” Distracted, she made dinner, ate quickly and returned to her room, anxious for some alone time to try to figure out what was going on.

Instead of studying, she searched for more sticky notes. There were none, just like there was no explanation as to why a voodoo priestess she’d never met before had chopped off her hair and ear.

Uneasily, she could guess what the woman might do, if she was one of those who toyed with black magic.

Adrienne’s eyes watered. She definitely didn’t need another curse to complicate her life. Hopefully, Jayden’s grandmama was devoted to the gods who favored healing over violence.

Lying down, she found it hard to sleep for more reasons than because her ear hurt. Tomorrow, she’d be singing in front of Jayden and the school. If there was one thing she knew, it was that she’d blow them away. How she’d find a way to catch up to class was a different matter entirely.

She stretched for her tarot deck and drew a card.

“Will tomorrow be awesome?” she asked then flipped a card. “Six of Pentacles, reversed.” Tough one. “So I need to be open to someone trying to help me? What does this have to do with school?”

Sometimes, the cards were more confusing than helpful. She replaced it and turned off the lamp on her nightstand.

Chapter Twelve

A few blocks away, Jax rocked and chanted, focusing hard on pulling the spirit he sought back into this world. His bedroom smelled of incense, blood and fear.

“I’m too … tired.”

The thin voice interrupted Jax’s chanting. He dropped beside the body on the bed.

“Come on, baby. You can do it.” He poured more of the dark liquid in the jar between the lips of the pretty, buxom blonde he’d found lost in one of the crew’s alleys. Streetlight lit up her pale face. Blue eyes were dazed, her features clammy.

“Jax …” Therese’s voice was distant, fading.

“No, baby, no,” he whispered urgently. He tossed his head back. “I command you, Baron Samedi! Bring her spirit to me!”

The blonde’s body bucked in response, and the woman cried out. Blood streamed from her nose and ears, joining the rivulets he’d caused earlier when he cut her for the rite. She shuddered and fell still suddenly, her eyes closing.

Jax felt as if he’d been punched harder than ever before. He struggled to catch his breath and steady his shaking hands. Each time he performed the rite, he lost a little more of himself. If he didn’t work out for two hours a day to stay strong, he’d have been dead years before from the toll the rite took on him.

“Therese?” he called, straightening. “Are you there?”

“I … can’t do this any … more,” her faint voice told him. It came from the body of the stranger on the bed. “Can’t … keep running from … him. Need permanent host.”

“You can do it. Come on, baby, just … focus on tonight. Focus hard. We worked too hard for you to give up now.”

The blonde’s body went limp.

Jax uttered the foulest curse he knew and threw the clay jar against a wall. It shattered, and what remained of the blood-based spell slid down the wall.

He sank against the bed, reliving the emotions from the night Therese died, the way he did every time he performed the rite.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, as much to Therese as the woman he’d accidentally killed this night.

Every once in a while, the rite failed to bring Therese’s spirit back from the purgatorial place between life and death where she dwelled. He’d gotten good at the monthly ritual. His first year attempting to bring her back had ended in nothing but failure, but he’d figured it out soon after. it wasn’t the first night recently where he’d been unable to pull her spirit into the token body of a woman he’d chosen for her. The rumors about the serial killer were back on the streets. While their friends in the police force were suppressing them, Jax knew he could only fail so many times before people started asking too many questions.

Jax’s head spun. He sagged against the side of the bed, waiting for the dizziness to pass. It wasn’t normal for him to feel weak during a rite. Then again, he had never performed this particularly powerful rite two nights in a row.

He shook his head and wiped his face. There were tears on his cheeks. Every month, he brought her back, only to lose her when the rite was over. Every month, he mourned her again, and every month, it hurt more.

Resting his head against the mattress, his thoughts drifted once more to Adrienne. He was usually careful with the women whose bodies he claimed for the sacred ritual. They were, after all, the embodiment of his love for twelve to twenty four hours. They deserved his respect and care. He didn’t want to hurt the women permanently, only to borrow their bodies so he could pull Therese back from wherever her spirit was. If they were to avoid the Red Man, she couldn’t stay permanently, no matter how much he yearned for her.

Seeing Adrienne again today, however, made him want to ask Togoun for the magic he needed to give Therese a new body. Forever. But how was it possible, when the Red Man always came for her?

Jax pushed himself up with effort. He was exhausted.

His eyes traveled over the woman. He checked her pulse, not surprised to feel there was none. When he failed to bring Therese back according to the stages of the rite, he ended up losing both spirits.

Was it better in the long run for everyone if he did find a permanent host for Therese’s body? Someone who looked like her? Someone with silky blonde hair and clear, green eyes, whose soft voice reminded him of the few months he’d spent with her?

Who better than her sister?

“No,” Jax said firmly. Adrienne deserved his protection, not to be turned into someone else or worse, to have the Red Man hunt her down, too. Therese would want her sister safe.

Distressed by the weakness and pain he’d heard in Therese’s voice, Jax snatched his knife again and gazed at the dead woman. He had half a notion to go back to Togoun for a new spell, to find a new woman and summon Therese again. Just to be sure she was okay and the Red Man hadn’t gotten her. He might be able to use this body again, if he hurried. Black magic zombie spells were complex, but the body didn’t have to be fresh to be brought back, just recently dead.

A knock at his bedroom door jarred him.

Who was in his house? Had the Red Man sensed Therese enter this world and come to claim her, the way he had a few other times?

Jax readied his knife and yanked his door open.

“Jax, we been looking for you,” his brother said.

Rene’s jaw dropped at the sight of the girl on the bed. Jax glanced around his room, aware of how unnatural everything would appear to someone else. Veves in blood covered the walls and floor, and he’d built a shrine in each corner to a different god or goddess. The room smelled of herbs from the rite and death. The blonde was bound spread eagle on his bed in her underwear.

“What happened?” Rene managed, his voice hushed. “Is she alive?”

“No.”

Rene stared at him, his shock rendering him frozen.

If he was any other member of OL, Jax would kill him where he stood. But he couldn’t, not his brother. He’d already lost the love of his life. He’d never hurt Rene, aside from their occasional scuffle over the crew’s business that ended in a fistfight.

“It’s not what you think,” Jax said. He was almost too exhausted to care that the person he trusted most in the world had found out one of his secrets.

Rene was gazing at him, waiting for an explanation. Jax knew he could lie, and Rene would choose to believe him, even if they both knew it wasn’t the truth.

When had his brother turned into a man? Jax didn’t recall seeing Rene grow. His little brother had been under his guardianship since he was ten, when their father ran off and their mother’s illness constrained her to a wheelchair. Rene dropped out of school when he was thirteen, and Jax had taught him to survive on the streets.

Jax still saw the little boy Rene had been, every time he looked at his brother. But Rene wasn’t a boy. He was a man who had done his fair share of killing and stealing to keep their community and House safe.

“Will you say the dessonet prayers with me?” Jax asked, referring to the final set of prayers meant to help the spirit leave the body for good. “Whatever you think of me right now, she deserves that much.”

Rene said nothing, but Jax knew his brother wouldn’t turn him down. It was a miracle he’d managed to hide what he did for five years from Rene.

He pulled a squeeze bottle of herbs and powders mixed together then drew the veve of Baron Samedi and his family’s guardian, Ogoun, on the woman’s body. When he finished, he knelt beside the bed and bowed his head.

After a moment, Rene joined him.

They murmured the final prayers quietly, asking their ancestors and hers to help the woman’s spirit transition out of her body as gently as possible.

The woman sighed suddenly in death, a sign her spirit was leaving her.

Jax rose. Freeing her spirit was the least he could do for the woman he didn’t mean to murder.

“Will you call Deputy Brannon?” he asked Rene, who hadn’t said anything yet.

“Yeah. Tell him the usual? Drug overdose?”

“Yes.”

Jax un-cuffed her hands then sliced her ankles free with his knife. He reached under the bed for the supply of thick plastic sheeting he kept there for circumstances like this. While rare now, they still happened.

Rene made the phone call quickly to their main contact at the local police station. When he hung up, a tense silence fell between them.

Jax considered how much to tell Rene, now that his brother stumbled upon the girl. Was there more than one reason he hadn’t told the person he trusted most with what he did?

Because it’s wrong.

“She wasn’t supposed to die,” he said into the tense silence.

“You cut her open, Jax. How was she not supposed to die?”

“I didn’t cut her open. I had to … to kill her, in order to bring her back.”

“Zombie? You performed the zombie ritual?”

“Every month for five years.” Jax glanced at his brother. He’d never seen Rene so surprised. “They usually live through it fine, and I turn them loose.”

“But why?”

Jax was quiet for a minute, stretching out the plastic onto the floor beside the bed. His brother was no stranger to death or violence or black magic, yet he hesitated, wanting to protect Rene just a little longer from how bad of a person he was. Rene knew about Jax resorting to black magic when normal violence failed and about the OL traitors or weak members he routinely purged to keep their crew strong and dedicated. Hurting someone innocent, however, was different. Even Jax didn’t take the death well of a woman who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I bring Therese back every month through the rite. We spend the day together, and I lose her again. But at least I know I can bring her back next month,” he explained, needing to hear the reasoning out loud. “A few times, the Red Man notices she’s not in the spirit world and shows up to kill her. Then there days where I just … I guess I’m not strong enough.”

“Jax, the penalty for black magic is –”

“Three times the harm I cause. I know. Lift her feet.”

Rene hesitated then obeyed. He picked up the woman’s feet while Jax lifted her upper body. They set her on the plastic sheeting.

“I will go to the deepest pit in hell,” Jax added. “But I might save her.”

“Save her? You crazy, Jax. How many people you kill to save one girl?”

Jax snatched Rene and shoved him into the wall, fury flying through him at the stupid question. He pressed the tip of the bloody knife to Rene’s neck. Eyes the same shade of blue-green as his glared back at him.

“Therese is my world,” Jax snarled. “I will do anything, anything, to protect her. Don’t you ever talk about her like that again!”

“You got serious issues, Jax,” Rene said, unafraid. “You gonna kill me the way you killed that girl?”

“Rarely do they die.” Jax released him, dizziness swirling through him once more. “Normally, it doesn’t happen this way. No one gets hurt.”

“How many have you killed?”

“Twenty-three in the past five years.”

“I’ll help you dump the body, but I don’t want anything to do with this,” Rene snapped. “Blood magic, Jax. You into blood magic.”

Jax said nothing, but slowly began wrapping the body in plastic.

“How you gonna save a dead girl anyway?” Rene demanded, helping him roll her up.

“It’s none of your business, Rene.”

“You’re my brother, and you’re doing something stupid. It is my business.”

“You’re all grown up, aren’t you.” Jax smiled to himself, recognizing the words he’d once told his younger brother to keep him out of trouble. “It’s too much to explain. Help me tonight, and we’ll talk later.”

Rene grumbled. He didn’t speak up again, but assisted Jax in wrapping then taping up the body. Jax took a brief break, hands shaking from effort.

Rene was watching him, arms crossed. His brother showed no sign of weakness like that Jax felt.

“Adrienne is figuring out the journal. Why won’t you give it to her?” Rene asked. “Maybe she can fix … this.” His troubled gaze went to the wrapped body.

“It’s mine,” Jax said. “I’m not giving it up. It’s all I have left.”

“It’s all Adrienne has, too.”

“You care more about Adrienne than your own brother?”

“No. But Candace thinks the journal has some meanin’, something that might break the curse, and she says there’s someone … a chosen. She don’t know what they’re suppose to do yet.”

“It’s too late for Therese!”

“It’s not too late for Adrienne. The curse is after her, Jax.”

Jax was silent. No part of him wanted to give up the journal, the last physical piece of Therese he had. He’d been stunned when Adrienne claimed to have it in the alley. Therese was his, and so was her journal.

“What if she can break it?” Rene pressed. “What if she can help you and Therese?”

“How?”

“I don’t know, man. But she can’t do nothing if you don’t let her try.”

Jax rose and paced. The idea of letting anyone else even touch Therese’s journal made him want to tear something apart.

“She needs the words,” Rene said. “Keep the thing. Just copy it.”

Considering, Jax’s eyes went to the dead girl again. What if Adrienne was able to break the curse? He could find Therese a permanent host without worrying about the Red Man coming for her.

“Take care of her, and I’ll copy it,” he said, pointing to the plastic sheet wrapped body.

Rene shifted uneasily. “I never hurt no girl before.”

“You didn’t hurt this one either.”

“You’ll copy the journal?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Jax growled.

“Brannon is meeting me downstairs in a few minutes.” Rene grunted and leaned down. He picked up the body and hefted her over his shoulder, carefully balancing her.

Jax studied his brother. Rene was upset, that much was clear. He didn’t doubt Rene would do his part. Blood made them brothers, and their experience on the streets had made them close enough almost to read each other’s minds. Rene was strong and independent minded, but he’d never let his family down.

“How is Adrienne?” Jax asked absently, unable to shake the idea that she’d make the perfect host for her sister.

“You keep her out of your mess. She’s a good girl.” Rene’s tone was sharp.

“She’s under our protection. I have a right to ask.”

“She’s safe. Candace’s helping her. When she has the journal, she might be able to break the curse.”

And I can find Therese a permanent host. Jax nodded. At first, he’d been rattled by the appearance of a girl who looked so much like his lost love. But maybe, she was part of some larger plan. Maybe she was there to break the curse and reunite him with Therese. Maybe, she was the missing piece that Therese hadn’t been able to figure out, before the Red Man came to claim her.

Was it possible to break such a powerful curse that the gods themselves didn’t try to help sweet, innocent Therese?

Rene moved towards the door.

Jax sat down on his bed, feeling even weaker. He viewed the idea of Adrienne breaking the curse with skepticism rather than hope. After all he’d done the past five years, how did he believe the gods would let him bring Therese back from the dead instead of simply helping him break her curse?

He refused to dwell on the cost of what he’d done, the price he’d pay for abusing the sacred rite and for the lives he accidentally ended during it. Today was no different. He’d rest for a day or two days to regain his strength before the full moon arrived in two days time. Then go back to Togoun for a new spell.

The door closed behind Rene.

Jax stood and went to the living room, where he’d hidden the journal behind a stack of books on the TV stand. He turned on a light and squatted beside the stand, retrieving the leather bound diary. He’d tried to read it many times since taking it from Adrienne without succeeding. It was gibberish, nonsense, and he’d given up and focused instead on the familiar images of the Red Man, the veves, and the heart she drew with their initials.

He clutched it to his chest.

No, he couldn’t return it. He’d do what Rene asked and copy it. It would have to be enough, because he wasn’t willing to hand it over.

Maybe I can take the copy to Adrienne. See those eyes one more time.

Jax shook his head. There was no doubt in his mind that Adrienne was the ideal host for her sister’s spirit and no doubt the girl was off limits.

Rene seemed to think Adrienne was the key to breaking the curse. He’d wait and watch to see what happened. If she succeeded, he’d find a body for Therese’s spirit.

Part of him knew he’d already made his choice.

She’s gotta break the curse first.

Chapter Thirteen

Jayden lay in bed past midnight without falling asleep. He stared at the ceiling, concerned about Adrienne. And Izzy. And his mother.

What the hell got into his grandmama today?

He should’ve known better than to take Adrienne there, and he was serious about never seeing his mother’s family again after the attack. He was reminded too much of how he’d failed to protect Izzy from the family. He’d failed again today.

His mother called shortly after the incident to scream at him about taking the white zombie to his grandmama’s house, vowing never to let Izzy go. Instead of feeling worse, he recognized that his father was right. Court was the only option, and there was no fixing his broken mother. Or her family. He definitely wasn’t going to let Izzy anywhere near those people again. What if Grandmama or his mother took out their anger on the little girl?

Restless and disturbed, Jayden flung off his sheets and padded to the door. He couldn’t shake his anger or the sense he should’ve just walked away from his mother and her family when Izzy was hurt.

Of all that happened, he couldn’t get the sight of Adrienne bleeding out of his thoughts. She hadn’t wanted his help – at all. Did she blame him? After the mess he’d made of everything else, he was the last person whose judgment could be trusted to help someone else.

How did he make it up to Adrienne when he was still trying to make things up to Izzy? Was there any way at all to alleviate the guilt and shame he felt about what happened to both innocent girls?

Someone else was in the kitchen when he entered. Tara sat at the breakfast bar, half gallon of ice cream on the table in front of her. She was eating directly out of the container.

“I’ll be too bloated for my cheer uniform tomorrow,” she lamented and then took another bite.

Jayden laughed. “If I wasn’t lactose intolerant, I’d join you.” He went to the refrigerator for sandwich supplies and set them out on the counter. He glanced up. “Why you up tonight?”

“Ever feel like we’re the parents?”

“All the time.”

“So annoying.”

He said nothing and finished making his sandwich.

“I had to pick up Izzy early today. She freaked out at soccer practice this evening. Kept asking for Chels and wouldn’t leave the bleachers,” Tara said.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, surprised.

“You got a lot going on.” She shrugged. “I heard about Addy.”

“What about her?”

“Your mama called Daddy after dinner and screamed at him for like ten minutes then hung up. I’ve never seen a look like that on his face.” By her twitching features, she was trying not to laugh. “Anyway, I heard him call Mama after and tell her what happened.”

“It’s all my fault,” Jayden said, dismayed his whole family knew Adrienne got hurt.

“Did she really get her ear chopped off?”

“Her earlobe, yeah,” Jayden said. He poked at his sandwich, no longer hungry. “I never should’ve taken her there.”

“You didn’t stab her,” Tara replied. “Don’t worry – I pretended not to know about her when Daddy asked. You know he won’t want you dating a scholarship girl.”

Jayden rolled his eyes.

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah.” No thanks to him. Worse, Kimmie had something planned for tomorrow at the pep rally. The idea of a hex alleviated some of his concern. Except that he didn’t believe his grandmama’s magic either, and she still found a way to hurt Adrienne with a pair of scissors. Desperate people did desperate things. “I got a busy morning. Can you make sure Addy’s … okay tomorrow?”

“From her attack or from Kimmie?” Tara asked.

“Both, I reckon. And Tara, don’t tell anyone else about what my grandmama did to her,” he hurried on. “I don’t want Adrienne to be upset.”

“All right. But I want something from you, too,” she said firmly. “I’m going out tomorrow night. I’m not putting the twins to bed or picking up anyone from school or anywhere else. If they call me, I’m texting you.”

“Deal,” Jayden said, smiling.

“Our family is so dysfunctional.”

“It’s better than where we both came from.”

“Yeah.” She plopped the lid on the ice cream.

Jayden had always been protective of his complicated family. He recalled a time when Tara wasn’t the spoiled princess she was now, but when she’d been a lost ten year old who held his hand in the mall, because she was afraid her new brother would die and leave her alone, the way her parents did.

He sensed something was bothering her this night, but didn’t pry. She’d talk when she felt like it. She always did, whether or not he wanted to listen.

Tara replaced the ice cream in the freezer and slid the spoon into the wide sink.

“Night, Jay,” she said and left the kitchen.

“Night, Tara.” His gaze returned to the sandwich. Guilty about wasting food, he wrapped it up and replaced it in the fridge. He ate enough for three people during football season. He’d get to it tomorrow for sure.

Returning to his room, Jayden’s gaze went towards the closet. He flipped on the light and entered, kneeling beside the box of odd presents in the corner.

“Where are you?” he asked, sifting through it for what he sought.

The heavy skeleton key was on the bottom. He hefted it and sat back on his heels, gazing at it.

Since the incident at his grandmother’s, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of the curse his father mentioned was on his family. How was it possible that Adrienne’s family was cursed, too?

Not that it was real, just … odd. He’d felt connected to her since they met. Was this why? A shared history, if not a curse?

He shuddered, hating the site of the key in his hand. Imagining the amount of pain the small item had caused over the course of years disgusted him.

He dropped it back into the box and left the closet, not wanting to be troubled by such dark thoughts the night before their first big game of the season.

Practice on game days was light, and Jayden changed into his spare jersey, tucking it into the slacks of his school uniform. He was one of the last out of the locker room today, partially because he didn’t look forward to seeing Adrienne this morning. He was afraid she’d be angry with him or worse, she’d want nothing to do with him. He wanted to hear her sing like he had every morning this week after practice but dreaded lowering his guard only to be hurt if she changed her mind about the fall festival this weekend.

Tired from his night of poor sleep and the drama of the day before, he found himself putting his phone in his locker. He had a message awaiting him this morning from his mother. She sounded drunk. Or high. He didn’t know and for once, he felt like he couldn’t bring himself to care. How she was able to defend what Grandmama did to Adrienne was beyond him.

“You look like you need this,” Mickey said, thrusting a large coffee at him.

“Thanks.” Jayden closed his locker and took it with a tired smile.

“I saw Tara in her cheer uniform.”

Jayden shook his head. “You’re obsessed, man.”

“Probably. You going for pizza tonight after the game?”

“Don’t think so. I’ve gotta put the twins to bed.”

“Your turn to play daddy this week?” Mickey teased. “If you feed me, I’ll come with you. Izzy loves me.”

“Yeah she does. You’re always welcome, Mickey.”

“Awesome. Maybe I’ll run into Tara?”

“She’s got a hot date tonight, and it’s not with you,” Jayden teased.

“I’ll settle for food.”

They started down the hall together.

“Isn’t that your girl?” Mickey asked quietly, nudging him.

Jayden glanced in the direction he indicated and almost stopped in place.

Adrienne was glowing with happiness. The grin on her face was huge, her new haircut framing the elfin features of her face. She wore the cheer uniform with a short skirt and tank-style top. His eyes drifted down her body automatically, and he was unable to suppress his intense interest at the sight of her tiny waist, the delicate flare of her hips and the shapely legs. He’d been beyond attracted to her since he first heard her sing.

She didn’t know Kimmie was getting ready to prank her. Though when Kimmie’s plan backfired, she wouldn’t have an excuse to kick Adrienne off the team like she planned.

He had no right to expect her to talk to him after yesterday, but he found himself approaching anyway, mesmerized by her beauty, husky purr and the part of her he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Hey,” he said, stopping a few feet from her.

“Hey.” Adrienne looked up at him, features growing pinker.

Whenever she was around, Jayden felt the urge to smile. He studied her, uncertain what to ask. Adrienne gazed at him, her green eyes glowing. He’d held her hand yesterday and hugged her. The need to feel her body in his arms again was strong, the instinct to protect her from the world stronger.

“How are you feeling?” he asked at last. “About today?”

“Great,” she replied. “I’m going to show them why I’m here.” From her tone and the firm set of her chin, she was determined.

“I know you will,” he said. “You’re amazing, Addy.”

She beamed a smile and shifted nervously. The moment grew long, the silence between them awkward.

“We still on for tomorrow?” he asked then braced himself for her answer.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I thought maybe yesterday would’ve scared you off.”

“It takes more than that to scare me,” she told him. “I’m tougher than I look, Jayden.”

“I believe you,” he said and laughed, charmed by the gleam in her gaze. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.”

The warning bell rang.

“I gotta go,” she said, taking a step back. “I’ll see you later.”

“Later.” He watched her twirl and trot away, admiring her slender frame and the bounce of her hair.

“You’re as bad as I am,” Mickey said from behind him.

“I don’t know what it is about her,” Jayden said, shaking his head. “I can’t think right when she’s around.”

“It’s love.” Mickey clutched at his heart with an overdramatic sigh. “C’mon. We’re going to be late!”

Talking to Adrienne – however briefly – left Jayden feeling at peace and refreshed. She was better than a large coffee.

Assured everything was going to be okay today, he went to his next class, upbeat and excited about Adrienne’s singing debut at the school this afternoon.

Chapter Fourteen

Jayden spoke to her!

Adrienne went to her next class, bursting with joy. He hadn’t paid any attention to the talk about her family’s curse, and he didn’t know that she spent the evening with a voodoo priestess learning about her sister.

She was aware of the students looking at her in the cheer uniform and couldn’t help but smile at everyone she passed. In a matter of a week, she fit into her new school in a way she’d never expected. Jayden liked her and the cheer squad members were quickly becoming her friends.

Despite a steady stream of cards warning her to be cautious, the morning passed in a happy, dreamy haze, the best day of school in her life.

On her way to lunch, Kimmie intercepted her.

“Addy, why don’t you sit with us?” she asked.

“Um, I …” Adrienne glanced towards the open double doors of the cafeteria, hesitating. She’d promised to have lunch with Emma, who was probably waiting for her at the salad station.

“You’re part of the team now, Addy,” Kimmie reminded her. “We always have lunch together on game days. It’s for luck.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess I can do that today,” Adrienne replied.

“Great!” Kimmie looped her arm through Adrienne’s and waved Kayla over. “I’m like, so excited to hear you sing today.”

They walked into the cafeteria. Adrienne’s gaze went to the salad station, where Emma was waiting.

She waved and started towards her, wanting to explain that she was having lunch with the cheer squad today only.

“This way,” Kimmie said, tugging her the opposite direction.

“I need to tell –”

Kimmie made an exasperated sound. “It’s just one lunch.”

Adrienne didn’t resist. She cast a glance over her shoulder, in time to see Emma’s face fall. The lonely girl limped to the salad station alone.

Adrienne pried her arm loose from Kimmie’s, intending to talk to her friend, whether or not Kimmie wanted her to.

Until she saw Jayden seated at the table with the other members of the cheer squad and a few guys in football jerseys.

He caught her gaze and smiled.

All thoughts of Emma faded, and Adrienne walked the rest of the way to the table without Kimmie’s help. She sat down in an empty spot, surprised to see there were two large pizzas on the table already.

“We have a pizza lunch every game day,” the skinny teen with dark eyes and blond hair told her. “I’m Mickey.”

“Adrienne,” she said.

“I know.” He grinned and glanced at Jayden, who was at the other end of the table.

Adrienne followed his look, admiring Jayden’s chiseled profile. He was breathtakingly handsome, so much so she almost didn’t believe he was at all interested in her.

“Hi, Tara,” Mickey said to the girl who sat down beside Adrienne.

“Whatever,” came the curt response. A gorgeous brunette with large, blue eyes and golden skin, Tara had a heart-shaped face and high cheekbones. She was taller than Adrienne, willowy and feminine from her manicured fingernails to her neat hair and the light scent of perfume. Adrienne recognized her when they met earlier from Madame Estelle’s.

Mickey appeared wounded enough for her to giggle.

“Addy, I brought us all that water you like,” Kimmie called from her spot three seats down. “Cherry flavored!” She held out a bottle to Adrienne.

Adrienne took it. While she loved the water, the blood red coloring was a little too similar to the red from her adventures yesterday. She forced a smile.

“Thanks, Kimmie.”

Kimmie beamed and passed out bottles of red water to everyone else on the cheer squad.

A little queasy at the red water, Adrienne touched her ear. She’d taken enough painkillers to keep it from hurting more than a distant throb. Her hair was down, so no one had noticed the bandages around her ear.

“To the first game of our senior year,” Kimmie said and stood. She raised her bottle of water. “And the best quarterback in the country. Win us a game, Jay!”

The others at the table clapped and whooped, while the girls on the cheer squad raised their bottles in a toast.

Adrienne swallowed hard and did so as well. She sipped it, relieved it tasted like cherry.

Don’t be so lame! She lectured herself. It’s just water.

She drank more, relaxing. It wasn’t the blood of a deranged voodoo priestess, just flavored water. Mickey plopped a slice of pizza on her plate then tried to offer one to Tara, who just passed her plate down to the girl beside her.

Sensing someone watch her, Adrienne looked up.

It was Jayden. He wasn’t smiling. His gaze went from her to the bottle and lingered before he looked away.

Was he thinking of what happened at his grandmama’s last night?

Her spirits dampened a little. Maybe he was more upset about what happened than he let on. He’d been smiling and happy to see her earlier, but maybe the blood red drink was too much of a reminder.

What if his grandmama called him and told him again that Adrienne was cursed?

She drew a deep breath.

Enjoy today. It was the best day of school ever. She’d wow everyone – including Jayden – at the pep rally and then cheer her heart out at the game tonight. Tomorrow, she’d splurge on some nice nail polish then go out with Jayden after her shift reading tarot cards.

This was her year. She was going to relish every second of it.

“You wanna hang out after the game tonight?” Tara asked her.

Adrienne froze, not expecting yet another incredible addition to her already amazing day.

“Yeah,” she said. “I would.”

“We usually go for pizza. It’s all we eat on Friday’s,” Tara said, smiling. “Seniors buy. It’s my turn tonight.”

Adrienne didn’t want to think about what happened if it ever came to be her turn to buy. How on earth could she afford to buy pizza for the whole football team and cheer squad?

“Jay has to take care of the twins, so he won’t be there,” Tara added.

“Twins?” Adrienne echoed.

“Our sisters. We take turns during the school year so we can have like, a life.”

“You’re …” Adrienne tried to grasp what Tara was saying. She glanced at Jayden.

Devil. Death. Six of Cups.

Suddenly, the cards she’d seen Sunday made sense. Jayden’s cards had been haunting her all week.

“Stepsiblings. His daddy adopted us when he married our mama,” Tara explained. “Our parents are too busy for the two little ones, so we take turns.”

“I know how that feels,” Adrienne said with wry emotion. “I pretty much raised my three younger sisters before coming here. If you ever want a babysitter, let me know.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, sure.” Adrienne smiled. “It’s what friends do, right?”

Tara appeared startled. She said nothing for a few seconds.

“Um, I guess,” she said finally. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Adrienne wolfed down her pizza, grateful to eat real food instead of salad for lunch. She calculated how much money she’d save if she didn’t have to pay for lunch on Fridays. It was at least ten extra dollars a week. It would add up fast.

Lunch passed quickly, and she went to her next class. No one had called her Swamp Girl all day, though a few students snickered to see her dressed in the cheer uniform. There was nothing any of them could do today to upset her.

She finished Kimmie’s water the next class and dropped the bottle in a recycle bin. Her throat was tingling by the time she sat down in the last class of the day. The pep rally would take up the final period, and her excitement was growing.

When they heard her sing, they’d never call her Swamp Girl again. The whole school would know she was meant for something great.

Adrienne cleared her throat a couple of times, attributing the scratchiness to nerves. Even knowing how good she was, she felt anxious about singing in front of Jayden. He’d heard her practice, but he’d never heard her really sing. They’d asked her to sing the National Anthem at the pep rally then one other number, the school’s alma mater.

Too nervous to focus on the instructor, she checked her email and was excited to see an email from her mother.

Hi baby,

I don’t remember all of it and can’t recall the original French. It was one of them fairy tales meant to teach kids lessons. I think it went something like …

A man gave the gods his spirit for a black magic spell

that would grant him riches.

The gods took not his spirit but what he cared for most.

A curse times three came upon the bokor who created the blood magic

that took the lives of thousands.

Ninety-nine lives was the price of the bokor’s magic, and the bokor’s life.

The man was spared but brought the curse of ninety-nine upon his family.

He spent his life with gold and pain and only his greed

kept him warm at night.

That’s all I can remember. When are you coming back? You seem so far away.

Love,

Mama

Adrienne re-read the disjointed tale many times, perplexed by it. Candace seemed to think either Adrienne’s family did something terrible or were the target of someone’s vengeance. What if it was something different? What if one of her ancestors was the bokor who created the blood magic that hurt thousands?

Who were the man and bokor? Why was the man who bought the spell in pain? What was it he cared for most of all? Who were the ninety-nine who died?

The more she thought, the more confused she became. Much of the story was missing. Could Candace make any sense of it?

Adrienne jotted down her questions. She wrote herself a reminder to mention the sticky notes, too, when she saw Candace next.

The bell rang, jarring Adrienne out of her thoughts.

Adrenaline jolted through her. She stood in sync with the rest of the kids in class and cleared her throat once more. It felt … swollen? She hummed to loosen it up on the way to her locker. Following Kimmie’s instructions, she put everything away.

Her attention went to the single photo she’d put up in her locker, the one Rene gave her of Therese and Jax.

Get my journal back.

Adrienne’s smile fell. She studied the picture. Maybe she shouldn’t go for pizza after the game tonight but find Candace instead. Was she being selfish by not going right away?

Jax cared for her sister too much to destroy the journal.

What was the mysterious leaver of sticky notes worried about, if not Jax ruining the journal?

“You ready?” Tara asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Yeah,” Adrienne answered. Her voice was husky, the way it was when she had hay fever in spring. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Just grabbing a good luck charm.” She tugged the photo free and tucked it into the small pocket of her skirt. She debated for a split second, not liking the idea of leaving her iPad where she couldn’t see it. She’d never owned anything so expensive. She preferred to keep it with her.

“You don’t have to do this, if you’re not ready,” Tara said.

Adrienne put her iPad in its cross body case to take with her and closed the locker.

“I’m ready,” she said happily and started towards the locker room.

“No, really.” Tara took her arm. “You don’t have to do this.”

Tara was serious.

Adrienne was more than a little wounded. Why would Jayden’s stepsister not want her to participate? What had he told her?

“But I want to,” Adrienne said. “I want to show people I’m not some charity case. When they hear me sing, they won’t make fun of me anymore.”

Tara released her, features softening. “I just … Jayden’s right. You’re a sweet girl.”

“He said that?”

Tara nodded.

“C’mon, girls!” Kimmie shouted from down the hallway.

Adrienne went, the strange exchange with Tara forgotten. Her heart hammered faster and faster the closer she got to the locker rooms. The excitement in the air made her almost giddy at the opportunity to show the world why she was there.

The girls on the cheer squad were joking and laughing. A couple freshened up while two more dished about the members of the football team they were dating. Adrienne listened to the chatter flying around her, amazed.

This is what it’s like to be popular. It was better than it looked from the outside.

Only Tara seemed uninterested in engaging with the others. She was quietly redoing her makeup a short distance from everyone.

Adrienne wondered what was wrong with Jayden’s sister. Her own spirits were too high for her to dwell on Tara’s subdued presence. It was soon time for them to make their entrance into the auditorium.

“Line up!” Kimmie ordered.

The girls fell into a single line like they’d practiced. Because she hadn’t yet mastered the first cheer, Adrienne was in charge of starting the music. She fell into the last spot, agitated energy making her bounce in place.

They ran out of the locker room into the auditorium, cheering as they went. Claps, whistles and whoops went up from the packed seating in the gym. The administrator gave up trying to call out the names of the squad and stepped back, clapping with the rest of the students.

Adrienne went to her assigned spot beside the podium to start up the music. The other girls moved into formation. She plugged in Kimmie’s iPod to the speakers and turned to watch.

The first dance went without a hitch, the girls moving in perfect rhythm to the music. Grinning, Adrienne watched, thrilled to be a part of their team. When they finished, more cheering and clapping ensued, until the administrator announced it was time to meet the football team.

Adrienne joined the other girls, who formed two lines on either side of the exit from the boys’ locker room. She smiled at Tara, who was grinning.

“Number three, our All American quarterback, Jayden Washington!” the coach announced.

A roar went up from the student body.

Jayden’s lean, muscular form trotted out. Waving and smiling at the crowd, he winked at her as he passed.

Best day of my life. Ever!

Enamored by Jayden, she barely heard the others being announced. He slapped hands with each member of the team as they reached him, joking and grinning with them.

When the last player was announced, the cheer squad took up their post near the podium. Adrienne wiped her hands on her skirt. She sang in front of a full congregation every Sunday without feeling the nervousness she felt today. She rubbed her throat. It still didn’t feel right, but she was too excited to give it too much thought.

The administrator waved her forward when the crowd had settled. She adjusted the microphone they’d set up for her and waited for his cue.

“Our newest student, Adrienne St. Croix, will be singing our National Anthem,” he said. “Please stand.”

A hush went over the students, and they rose. Adrienne drew a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. The music started, and she closed her eyes to center herself.

“Ohhh say can you –” She choked then coughed. Adrienne stopped, startled. A ripple of laughter went through the kids. The music continued. She swallowed then picked up the music.

“… what so proudly we –”

She burst into another round of coughs that hurt her throat so badly, she couldn’t continue. When she recovered, she clenched her mouth closed.

Something was wrong. She’d never frozen up from nerves before. She knew the words by heart, and nothing was wrong with her voice. She’d had the best vocal practice ever this morning. Even when she had hay fever, she sang, albeit not as well as usual.

She opened her mouth again. More coughing came out.

Someone shut off the music, and students began laughing.

“Welcome to New Orleans, Swamp Girl!” Kimmie shouted. She held up a bottle of red water.

Everyone was laughing. The chant of Swamp Girl began.

For a long moment, Adrienne absorbed it all. The scene was surreal, a nightmare. She was the laughingstock of the school. A glance at Kimmie and Kayla’s smug looks hurt more than the chanting.

They set her up. But how did they take her voice, unless …?

The water. What had the cherry flavoring been covering? A spell? A drug?

Adrienne swallowed hard, afraid to try again to sing. Her eyes were watering, and the chanting grew louder, along with the laughter. She couldn’t bear to look at Jayden, afraid to see him laughing and more afraid to see him pity her.

Unable to handle the laughter, she turned and ran.

Adrienne fled into the locker room, swiping at her tears to keep from running into anything. She paused only long enough to grab her iPad and sling it over her head.

“Swamp Girl!” The chanting continued, chasing her out of the locker room and into the hallway.

She didn’t stop running until she neared the bus stop at the edge of the campus. She reached for her bus pass only to realize it was still in her locker.

I’m never going back! She swore silently.

“Adrienne!”

Unable to face anyone from school, she bolted down the street, trying to escape her humiliation or tears. She ran until she couldn’t breathe then slowed to see where she was.

She wasn’t too far from home. Tired, she wiped her face and trudged onward. She had no misconception about not being welcome at the game tonight or the pizza party afterwards.

Kimmie wanted to humiliate her and had succeeded. The invite to the cheer squad had seemed too good to be true. Now, she understood what the cards had been trying to tell her. Not to trust Kimmie or get drawn into her game, and to heed the warning of Tara, which she didn’t.

Adrienne stopped suddenly, cold fear seizing her chest.

How long was the hex supposed to last? Only today, to embarrass her in front of everyone? Or longer to get her kicked out of school? What happened if her voice was gone forever? How did she help her family?

More tears spilled down her cheeks. They stung. She began to trot then jog, then broke out into a panicked run.

She cut through the alley neighboring her daddy’s apartment building, not caring if she was murdered by gang members. She could barely see straight through her tears. A blurry form moved away from one wall, and Adrienne smashed into him.

“Hold up,” Rene’s familiar voice said. “What mess you get in now?” He steadied her, his blue-green eyes piercing her misery.

Adrienne pushed him away, too upset to deal with anyone. She started past him. Rene caught her arm.

“I ask you a question, girl,” he growled.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone!” she cried. “I want to be alone!”

“A’ight. Whatever.” He held up his hands and walked away.

Adrienne watched him. She wiped her face, forcing herself not to cry.

Rene glanced back at her then paused, facing her once more.

“What’s up?” he asked without approaching. “Your other ear get cut off?”

“I had a bad day.”

“Cheerleaders have bad days?” His gaze swept over her doubtfully.

“I got set up. They invited me, but then they really just wanted … to … humiliate me … in front of Jayden … school.” She was sobbing again. “Kimmie … curse in my … water.”

Rene stared at her. “I didn’t understand any of that.”

Adrienne forced herself to take a shaky breath. She wiped her nose on her shoulder.

“Real classy,” Rene grunted.

“Need a … Kleenex,” she said, sniffling.

He peeled off his shirt to reveal a tight, gray tank top. He was more muscular than she expected, his frame solid and lean. Tattoos covered his chest and arms. He tossed the shirt to her.

“Thank you.” Adrienne wiped her nose on it, not caring what he thought of her. The shirt smelled of him, the musky male scent that somehow helped calm her. She blew her nose before holding out the shirt.

“I don’t want that shit back,” he said.

She giggled then hiccupped. “I’ll wash it out for you.”

He was studying her.

“Can you take me back to Candace’s?” she asked.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

She shook her head.

“Then no.”

“Rene!” she objected. “I had a bad day. I just need to see Candace.”

“Why?” He crossed his arms.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Then find your own way there.”

“I don’t know my way around the city! Everyone is abandoning me!” she said sadly, tears forming. “I need help, Rene.”

He didn’t budge.

“I might be under a curse.” It took all her effort not to cry. “Some girl at school took away my singing.”

“You can’t sing?”

“No. It’s all I have. I have to see Candace. She can help me.”

He tossed his head to the side then turned and began walking.

Adrienne wiped her nose again and trailed him out of the alley. Her heart felt like it was breaking, but she was hopeful Candace could help her at least save her voice.

She didn’t want to think about what Jayden thought of her or how she’d ever go back to school again on Monday. Distraught, all she could think of was how much she liked Jayden and how humiliated she was that he saw what happened.

As they walked, she regained what she could of her tattered composure. Tara’s words returned to her.

Had even Jayden’s stepsister been in on the prank? Was she trying to warn her? Why not just tell her what Kimmie planned to do?

Adrienne patted her iPad absently then glanced down. She hesitated but pulled it free, wondering if Jayden had tried to email. Did she want to know if he had?

She opened it. Her email inbox had blown up with emails from students at the school. Most had subjects that made her throat tighten.

Nice work, Swamp Girl

Welcome to civilization!

Go back to the bayou

She blinked away tears and scanned through the horrifying subjects and names until she found an email from Jayden. The subject was blank.

A-

Please PLEASE let me know you’re okay. I knew Kimmie was planning to prank you, but didn’t know this would happen. I’m so sorry.

J.

He knew. Jayden knew. Was his affection part of the prank? Make the new girl think she was able to capture the heart of the most popular boy in school and join the cheer squad?

How could he do something so cruel?

She shoved the iPad back into its case and began crying again. She stifled the sounds with Rene’s shirt.

“I’m never going back!” she vowed in a half-sob.

“To school?” Rene asked, glancing down at her.

“Today was the worst day of my life.”

He rolled his eyes. “Did anyone die?”

“No.”

“Anyone get hurt at all?”

“No.”

“Don’t sound that bad.”

“Someone might’ve taken my voice!” she snapped.

“True. I been to church every Sunday to hear you sing.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Like an angel. Stealin your voice … that’s a crime.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, not unaffected by his rough kindness. “My mom sent me an email about the song.”

“The one your grandmama sang?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

Comforted by his presence, she fell into troubled quiet. The horrific day left her doubting herself in every way – even doubting her gift. How would she live with herself if Kimmie had taken away her ability to sing? Would her daddy be disappointed if she told him she was going back to New Orleans?

What about the mystery she’d leave in New Orleans if she went home? Would she ever know what happened to her sister or how to lift the family curse?

“You okay?” Rene asked coolly.

“Not really,” she replied. “I don’t know what to do.”

He pushed open the door to Candace’s shop. Today, the scent of incense joined that of coffee. It drifted over her when she entered.

Candace’s smile at Rene faded when she saw Adrienne’s red eyes and nose.

“What happened, Adrienne?” she asked, standing from behind the counter. “Rene?”

“Why everyone think I make her cry?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Adrienne said. “I need some help.” Her eyes watered.

“Of course, child. Come on back.”

Adrienne went, followed by a moody Rene.

“Someone hexed me, Candace,” Adrienne said miserably. She sat in the same chair she’d been in the other day.

The voodoo priestess studied her. “You are fortunate. My focus is healing. My brother is the bokor. We are … yin and yang.”

“He sells curses and you cure people he curses?” Adrienne asked.

“Precisely.” Candace smiled. “It’s my way of making things right. Rene, my healing tea.”

“Not sure I want more tea.”

“This one will help purify you,” Candace assured her.

Rene disappeared behind the beaded curtain leading to the back room of the shop.

“The quickest way to remove a curse is to ask he who jinxed you to remove it,” Candace advised. “Is that an option?

“No,” Adrienne said softly. “I’m never going back there.”

“Very well. I’ll do my best. It will be a lengthy process.”

Adrienne nodded. “I brought the song you requested with me.”

Candace brightened. “I have never seen a curse such as this one. May I see it?”

Adrienne tugged her iPad free and turned it on. Tears formed at the additional emails that had stacked up in her inbox. She scrolled down to find her mother’s message then pushed the device to Candace and rested her forehead on the table.

Candace was quiet for a long moment before speaking. “Can I email this to myself?”

“Sure.”

Rene placed the tea set down on the table.

Adrienne lifted her head. She stretched forward to pour tea, but her hand shook.

Rene rolled his eyes, but did it for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, clutching the warm cup close to her.

“My goodness.” Candace was staring at the iPad. “I’ve never seen this level of cyber bullying.”

Adrienne nodded blandly.

“Curses tend to go in three waves. I’d say your voice was the first stage, these emails the second. I think we can at least stop this one before the third.”

“I need my voice, Candace. Please.”

“Drink your tea, sweetie.” Candace closed the iPad and pushed it across the table.

The mambos lit incense and traced the shape of Papa Legba on the table with a white mixture from a squeeze bottle. She murmured in French and placed a small rock in the center, wafting incense over the rock.

Adrienne sipped her tea. It was warm and soothing, and she felt herself relaxing.

“Your boyfriend stand up for you today?” Rene asked from the corner where he’d sat down.

She ducked her head.

“Guess not.”

“He knew about the curse. I don’t think he was ever my boyfriend,” she whispered.

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“Rene, that won’t help her,” Candace said, glancing up from her prayers.

“She needs to toughen up.”

“Or someone to step up and protect her.”

“I ain’t no warrior.” Rene shrugged.

“The warrior is among the most sacred duties in our religion, Rene. It’s an honor and your destiny, from what our ancestors tell me,” Candace chided.

“Not happening.”

“I just want to go home to Georgia,” Adrienne said. “But I can’t until I find out how to lift my family curse.”

“Take me with you,” Rene grumbled.

“Ignore him. He’s upset because I told his mama he was meant to be a warrior, and now she won’t leave him alone about it,” Candace said. “Adrienne, you have time before you and your sisters are old enough to bear children. If you return to Atlanta, we can continue to work on the family curse.”

Adrienne hesitated, debating internally. Finally, she pushed away the thick band of her tank top to reveal the mark of the curse.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she said. “This shouldn’t be there.”

Candace’s eyes widened, and Rene rose, leaning on the table to see.

“You’re marked, Adrienne,” Candace said.

“I don’t understand how,” Adrienne responded. “Mama said the curse takes firstborns.”

Candace said nothing. She stood and walked to the front of the store, returning with a piece of paper. She unfolded it and set it down.

Adrienne leaned back, recognizing the Red Man and words she’d drawn the other day while under the trance Candace put her in.

“You know. Somewhere inside of you. You know,” Candace said. “The spirits spoke through your sister and are trying to speak through you.”

“But I don’t know.” Adrienne’s tears rose again. “I don’t know who he is. I don’t know what he wants. I don’t even know what these words mean. I just want my voice back, Candace!”

“Calm, child.”

The bell at the front door rang.

“Stay here and drink tea,” Candace said, standing. “Rene, behave.” She disappeared through the curtain separating the store from her private shrine area.

Rene sat down across from Adrienne at the table. Adrienne ignored his look, staring at the paper. She drew a deep breath.

Candace was right. Therese’s journal was filled with this nonsense, but it meant something. If the spirits had tried to warn her sister, maybe they were trying to warn her now, too. The sight of the man in red made her want to run away, but she forced herself to pick up the paper with one hand.

“If your brother would give me back my journal …” she said, glancing at Rene.

“Not happening. You’ll have to figure this out without it.”

Adrienne didn’t expect any other response. She traced the robed man with her finger. The simple movement sent a chill through her, as if drawing the man gave him some sort of life.

“He’s bad,” she said. She wiped her face again with Rene’s t-shirt. “Are you really a voodoo warrior?”

“No.”

“Want me to ask my cards?”

“Definitely not. Just because everyone else thinks I should be something, don’t mean I will be. I’ll take care of you and no one else and that’s because you’d be dead by now otherwise.”

“I understand. Thanks.” Adrienne sighed and focused. She needed her voice back. She needed to lift the curse. Why was everything on her shoulders and not those of her mother? Her father?

“Table and boredom great shoes,” she read a few of the words she’d written. “It doesn’t mean anything!”

“Like Candace say. Maybe it means something else than the words,” Rene reminded her. “Why is this capitalized?”

Adrienne picked up a pen and circled the capitalized letters in the first few words.

“A, B, B, D, E, A, E,” she said aloud. “Not all vowels, not all consonants.”

“But they’re the same letters,” Rene said, pointing to the next line of text she’d written. “You don’t see any capital S’s or R’s.”

“No, you don’t,” Adrienne said pensively. She circled the rest of the capitalized letters and sat back with a gasp. “Rene! I know what it is!”

“That makes one of us.”

“It’s musical notes. It’s a song!”

“Seriously?”

“Omigod! I’m such an idiot! It makes perfect sense. My sister was a singer, too. The spirits were trying to talk to us through songs. Or a song. I don’t know.” Thrilled, Adrienne rose and ducked outside the private room.

“Addy?”

She froze, staring at her father, who was leaning over the counter his hands clasped with Candace’s. He straightened, breaking contact with Candace. His smile faded.

“You’re that Candace?” Adrienne asked the calm woman in African dress, astonished.

“What’re you doing here, Addy?” her father asked, frowning. “You get out of school early?”

“Um … yeah,” she managed. “I, uh …”

Her daddy didn’t know Candace was a practicing mambos, or he wouldn’t be seeing her.

Adrienne’s intent gaze went to Candace. Twice today she’d been betrayed by people she trusted. Was Candace the third?

Her daddy was looking at Candace, too, and Adrienne saw the happy glow fade from his face.

Whatever she thought of Candace right now, her daddy really liked her. Adrienne sought something smart to say about why she was there while grappling with the realization that her racist father was falling in love with a woman straight out of Africa. What were the chances? Would that make him more likely to let Jayden in to study with her?

Right now, she needed an excuse as to why she was hanging out with the woman her daddy hadn’t wanted her to meet yet in a neighborhood he’d warned her to stay away from. God help her if he met Rene, a certified gang member! She’d be sent packing to Georgia.

“Mama asked me to send her something,” she said finally. “I didn’t think you’d approve and didn’t want to tell you.”

“Something … voodoo?” he asked, glancing at the supplies that lined one wall.

“I import herbs from Africa,” Candace added. “Some are rare.”

“I was having tea while Candace looked through inventory.” Adrienne’s gaze narrowed. “Daddy, why didn’t you tell me about Candace?” She crossed her arms.

Her father appeared uncomfortable suddenly.

Adrienne didn’t say what she wanted, that he’d forbidden her from seeing anyone darker than her and treated Jayden like crap when he came over the other night.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said gruffly. “I’m on break. I can take you home real fast.”

“I’m not ready yet,” Adrienne said quickly. “I mean, the herbs aren’t ready yet.”

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe,” Candace promised warmly.

Her father didn’t appear pleased. Adrienne offered a smile.

Inside, she was stewing. Today was filled with surprises, most of which she wished she could just forget.

“All right,” he said at last. “Be back by dark.”

“I will, Daddy,” she assured him.

He hesitated again then glanced at Candace and left.

Adrienne kept the smile plastered on her face until the door closed behind him before she turned on Candace, hands on her hips.

“You didn’t tell me you knew my daddy!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sick of people lying to me today.”

“I believe in respecting the privacy of others,” Candace said. “Your business with me is between us. My business with your daddy is between him and me. When the time comes for that to change, I wanted him to be the one to talk to you.”

“But you lied to him.”

“So did you.”

Adrienne pursed her lips. Uncertain what to say, she swept aside the curtain and went back to the table. She snatched the paper from Rene.

“Wait, Adrienne,” Candace said, following. “I really do want to help you. I think you need my help.”

“Not anymore. I figured this out,” Adrienne said, waving the paper. She jammed it into her bag, furious at herself for trusting people who didn’t deserve it. Didn’t the cards warn her of that?

But who else could help her?

“You’re upset. I understand. When you’re calm, come back,” Candace said. “Take these with you.” She held out the rock she’d been praying over and a small baggy of herbs. “Drink the tea every morning and keep the rock with you. It’ll prevent the curse from getting worse and gradually remove it.”

Adrienne hesitated then took the items. She placed them in her bag then dropped the cross-body carrier over her head. She grabbed Rene’s shirt, turned and left without speaking.

“You ain’t walking alone,” Rene said firmly, trailing.

“Leave me alone, Rene!” she snapped. She shoved the front door open and paused on the sidewalk, orienting herself.

“So you had a bad day. Don’t be stupid,” he said. He took her arm.

Adrienne shook him off.

Rene snatched her and yanked her in front of him hard enough to jar her out of her swirling emotions.

“You don’t get it, girl,” he warned. “You wanna stay alive, you stop playin’ the fool.” His grip was harder than his gaze, his muscular frame tense enough to scare her. “You got it?”

She nodded.

“You don’t walk nowhere alone and you don’t walk out on me again,” he added.

A dark, haunted emotion she wasn’t able to define crossed his features.

“Ow,” she murmured.

He released her.

“What’s wrong, Rene?” she asked.

“Nothing. Let’s go.” He moved away.

“Rene, I’ve had the worst day ever. Everyone has lied to me or worse! Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” she pushed, refusing to move. “Did you know Candace and my daddy were dating when you took me to her?”

Rene turned, tense once more, and glared at her.

“I can’t trust anyone,” she said, throat tightening. “I’m scared, Rene.”

“Shut up and walk, Adrienne.” His tone was softer. He walked away.

Even her reluctant guardian was hiding something. She sensed it.

The whole world is against me. Defeated, she followed him.

At least she had a new clue about her sister’s journal. She had a piece of the song in her bag. Her eyes settled on Rene, and she trotted forward to draw abreast of him.

“Rene.”

“What.”

“If you can’t get my sister’s journal from Jax, can you copy it?” she asked. “Even if you just take pics of the pages with your phone or whatever.”

He was quiet for a moment, his brooding mood giving her no insight into which way he’d be swayed.

“You just don’t know when to give up,” he said finally.

“Would you give up on Jax?” she challenged.

His jaw clenched. He stopped in place for a moment, and a tortured look crossed his face.

She gazed up at him. Accustomed to him being moody, she was startled to see an emotion that was far more than indecision. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t about Jax and her journal.

“Did you guys get in another fight?” she asked.

He shook his head and started walking once more.

“Rene!” she all but shouted. “Will you help me?”

“I’ll try,” he grumbled. “But you best stop bugging me.”

“Thank you.”

They started down an alley, but stopped. Rene caught her arm and lifted his chin towards the scene in the middle of the alley. A small gathering of gang members were crowded around something or someone.

“You don’t need to see this,” he said and pushed her back to the street.

“See what?” She leaned to see around him.

“They doing what they do.”

She caught a familiar flash of maroon that matched the skirt of her cheer squad she wore. Adrienne hardened, hoping it was Kimmie in the alley, but immediately felt guilty. Even Kimmie didn’t deserved to be messed up by a gang. Adrienne didn’t know what they’d do to her, but she suspected Rene was serious about them killing people. Her daddy seemed to think that was all gangs were good for anyway.

“I think I know her,” she said, tugging free of Rene. She stepped into the alley, trying to make out who the gang members had cornered and were pushing around.

“Not your business.”

“It is!” she insisted. She gasped, catching a flash of a familiar face. “It’s Tara.” She started forward.

“Stop,” Rene grabbed her arm. “The crew will tear you up after they’re done with her.”

“Then stop them.” Adrienne turned to face him. “She’s on the cheer squad.”

“Didn’t they screw you up?”

Adrienne hesitated, thoughts going from Tara’s warning to Jayden. The humiliation and despair she felt hours before fluttered through her.

“It’s still not right to leave her,” she murmured. “Please?”

“You serious?” Rene frowned. “They’re Jax’s boys. You want me to get my ass kicked for some girl who effed you up?”

“I can do it.”

“Stay out of sight.” He pushed her towards the street with another mumble she took to be curse words directed at her. Rene trotted down the alley.

Adrienne did as he said and went to the building on one side, peering around the corner to see into the alley.

Rene said something as he approached. A few of the thugs laughed. Then he grabbed one and smashed him in the face with a fist.

Adrienne gasped and covered her mouth. Rene was strong and tall, but the guy he punched was huge. Another of the gang members shoved him. He shoved back then punched him, too.

Sensing their fun was over, the others broke up. One shoved Tara at Rene, who caught her with one arm. He motioned angrily to the guy on the ground, who talked back, but didn’t fight. He got to his feet and sulked away.

One arm around Tara, Rene walked calmly down the alley towards Adrienne. Dread fluttered in her stomach at the sight of Jayden’s sister. She wondered if Tara came so far just to laugh at her again or to drop another curse on her.

Tara’s hair was mussed, a few of her nails broken. She’d been crying, and her makeup was smeared and one cheek red from someone’s punch. She’d been shoved into a puddle, and her cheer uniform dripped with water.

“Are you okay?” Adrienne asked uncertainly, stepping from the building as they neared.

“I told you to stay out of sight,” Rene snapped.

“They can’t see me.”

“One day, girl, you gonna get your ass kicked, and I’m gonna laugh.”

Tara looked ready to cry.

Rene spun her to face him roughly and took her chin, peering into her face.

She cringed away.

“You fine,” he said, pushing her away.

“It’s okay, Tara.” Adrienne took the girl’s arm. “Rene is … a friend. When he feels like it.”

“What you doing here?” Rene asked Tara gruffly.

Tara was shaking. She looked away from him quickly, not speaking.

“You’re scaring her, Rene,” Adrienne told him.

“Me? I rescued her ass.”

“Okay, come on, Tara,” she said, wrapping one arm around Tara’s waist. “Rene, home.”

“Great. Now I’m Walkin’ Ms. Daisy.”

Adrienne rolled her eyes. She didn’t know what to think of the moody gang member except he wasn’t going to abandon her. He was the only constant after her day. He’d bitch about it, but he’d see her home this afternoon and probably any other afternoon, whether or not she wanted him to.

Rene walked ahead of them, moping, all the way back to her apartment building. Tara didn’t stop shaking and didn’t speak, clearly in shock.

“Thank you, Rene,” Adrienne said, pushing open the door to her building.

He shrugged and walked off.

“He’s such a pain,” Adrienne complained. “But he’s all bark. I think.”

Tara glanced around her, clearly unimpressed with the lobby of the apartment building. Adrienne led her to the elevator, nervous now that Rene was gone. She didn’t know what Tara was doing there or even if she should show Jayden’s sister how poor she was when they got to her father’s rather plain apartment.

Tara said nothing as they rode in the elevator and entered the apartment.

“I can get you dry clothes,” Adrienne said, walking down the short hallway to her bedroom.

She dug through the closet, afraid to see Tara’s face at the cramped room that was hers. Adrienne pulled out a worn t-shirt and workout shorts for Tara then clothes for her to change into.

Tara was looking around, starting to register the world once more. She didn’t appear to be repulsed by the bedroom of the scholarship girl they’d gone out of the way to ridicule.

“Um, I’ll leave you alone to change,” Adrienne murmured, pitying the girl. “I’ll make us some tea.”

Tara took the clothes without speaking.

Adrienne left and closed the door behind her. Emotionally drained, she felt like crying again. She didn’t, instead changing quickly in the bathroom then going to the kitchen to microwave water for tea. Her ear was hurting badly, so she downed a couple more painkillers.

The door to her bedroom opened and the bathroom door closed.

Adrienne put two cups of tea on the kitchen table and waited, twisting her hands in her lap.

Tara emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later and sat down on the couch. She’d smoothed out her hair and removed her makeup.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the cup of tea Adrienne gave her.

An awkward silence fell.

“Are you okay?” Adrienne asked.

“Yeah.” Tara cleared her throat and took a sip of tea.

“So, what were you doing in the alley?”

“Looking for you.”

“Why?” Adrienne asked, dismayed. “The pep rally wasn’t enough?”

Tara flushed. “Believe it or not, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Let me guess. You knew what Kimmie aimed to do, but didn’t warn me either.”

“Yeah. I didn’t think it’d work, though. Voodoo isn’t real. I mean, I didn’t think it was.”

“It is,” Adrienne said. She hesitated then realized there was no reason to hide the truth anymore. She’d already lost the respect of everyone at school, and Jayden helped set her up. “My family is cursed. Every firstborn in my mama’s line is killed, including my sister, who disappeared five years ago when she came to New Orleans to live with Daddy. Jayden’s grandmama even knew I was cursed. That’s how I know magic is real.”

“You’re serious.” Tara’s eyes were wide. “So Kimmie’s curse ... worked?”

“Yeah. She took my voice.” Adrienne’s eyes watered. “I can’t keep my scholarship without it. I’ll have to go back to Atlanta. I’m so close to finding out what happened to my sister.”

“I’m sorry,” Tara murmured. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, I obviously don’t fit in there anyway. No one bothered to tell me, and everyone knew.” Adrienne took her cup to the kitchen, upset. “I’m never going back.”

“You have to come back,” Tara said, following her. “Jayden likes you.”

“Not enough to warn me!”

Tara was quiet for a moment.

Adrienne picked up the phone from the counter and clicked it on, grateful to hear the dial tone. At least her daddy had decided to pay the phone bill. She wouldn’t look like complete white trash in front of Tara.

“Here. Call your mama or someone,” Adrienne said, holding it out. “We don’t have no car and someone like you don’t ride city buses.”

She left Tara in the kitchen. A moment later, she heard Tara speaking quietly to whomever she called.

Adrienne sat on the couch and pulled free her iPad. She stared listlessly at the horrible emails from half the kids in the school then spotted one from Emma.

Hi Adrienne,

I hope you are okay.

Your friend,

Emma

Adrienne swallowed her tears, not recalling how she’d stood up Emma until seeing the note. Emma was her only real friend at the school, and she’d broken her promise to eat lunch with her to sit with kids who humiliated her in front of everyone.

Maybe I deserve what happened.

“Jayden’s coming to get me,” Tara reported, joining her in the living room. “He asked about you.”

Adrienne shrugged.

“Look, Adrienne, all that stuff that happened … Jayden had nothing to do with it. Kimmie is always putting hexes on him, so we figured she was just full of it. Nothing bad has ever happened.”

“I don’t care, Tara. If someone was going to hurt him, I’d tell him.”

Tara frowned. She said nothing.

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“Who was the guy with you?” Tara asked.

“Rene. He acts tough, but he’s helped me a lot this week.”

“He’s got that total bad boy thing going on. It’s kinda sexy.” Tara smiled. “You told him to rescue me?”

Adrienne nodded.

“That’s real cool.”

“I try to do good. Not here to hurt anyone.” Except I hurt Emma.

“I’m sorry, Adrienne. I know it’s too late and it doesn’t do anything to help. But I am sorry.” Tara was sincere, her features troubled. “Just … don’t hold it against Jayden.”

Adrienne didn’t know what to say. It hurt just thinking that he knew, but didn’t tell her. Was he as fake as the rest of the kids at school? How was she able to trust him after this?

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t go back,” she said.

“You have to. If you run away, it’s just making Kimmie’s power trip worse.”

“Everyone is making fun of me,” Adrienne said, holding up her iPad to show the overflowing inbox. “Everyone. I don’t belong there, and they know it.”

Tara didn’t reply, frowning.

Sooner than she expected, there was a knock at the door.

Adrienne’s heart jolted at the thought of seeing Jayden again until she recalled he’d been there for her humiliating debut in front of the school. Dreading what he might say, she crossed to the door and opened it.

Jayden still wore his jersey and slacks. His smile was quick, his dark eyes concerned as he studied her closely.

Her body betrayed her despite her resolve to resent him for hiding Kimmie’s prank. Heat raced through her, and she found herself unable to look away or ignore his clean, woodsy scent. She was speechless at the sight of him, too confused to know how to react. Was Tara right about him not knowing or was he a part of the plan to humiliate her? The more she thought, the harder it was to believe that the most popular boy at school really was interested in her.

“Hey.” His husky voice was soft.

“Tara,” she called over her shoulder, stepping away from the doorway. “Your brother’s here.”

Adrienne hugged herself, unable to look at him again. She was too aware of his presence and afraid of what he thought about her.

“One sec. Let me get my uniform,” Tara said, hurrying down the hallway to Adrienne’s room.

The awkward silence made her nervous.

“About today,” Jayden started.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said curtly.

“Okay.” He didn’t seem to know what to say.

Adrienne ached for him to explain why he’d lied to her, except she was afraid to learn that maybe he never liked her at all.

Tara wasn’t long. She returned with her uniform in her arms.

“Thanks, Addy,” she said, hugging her quickly. “I’ll wash out your clothes and bring them to school Monday. Okay?”

“Sure,” Adrienne replied. She didn’t tell Jayden goodbye but closed the door and bolted it. She stayed where she was for a minute then burst into tears.

Adrienne ran to her room and flung herself down on the bed, weeping.

Chapter Fifteen

Jayden lingered in the dingy, poorly lit hallway outside Adrienne’s apartment. He’d seen the crushed look on her face and wanted to make her feel better. Somehow.

He didn’t know what to say. He’d had the urge to wrap his arms around her, but sensed she’d probably throw him out, if he did. She hadn’t responded to his email, and by his reception at her apartment, she was too upset to talk to him at all.

Not that he blamed her. He should’ve stopped Kimmie from doing whatever she was doing. He definitely wasn’t expecting Kimmie to destroy Adrienne’s singing debut at the school. She’d gone from glowing like an angel to fleeing with tears in her eyes.

He’d failed her. Again.

“Come on, Jay. She needs some space,” Tara called from down the hallway near the elevator.

He went grudgingly. The elevator didn’t look like it was in the best shape.

“You okay?” he asked Tara, pushing the button for the lobby. Her cheek was red and her eyes puffy, as if she’d been crying.

“I’m good.” Her response was unusually subdued.

“What were you doing here?”

“What you told me. Trying to make sure Adrienne was okay,” she snapped. “Except she ended up coming to my rescue, after I helped set her up. Some gangbangers cornered me in an alley. Addy’s friend bailed me out.”

Jayden didn’t have to ask which friend. If it was the same thug he’d found her with the other night, he could see how the rough gang member was able to help his sister. Why on earth was Adrienne hanging out with such a person? Did she really need someone like that to keep her safe in this neighborhood?

A tremor of jealousy went through him. The thug – whoever he was – had been walking Adrienne home the other night and now, defended Tara against gang members. Both were responsibilities Jayden should’ve met but didn’t.

Tara appeared to be fine, if quiet. He was afraid to ask what he wanted to know most: if Adrienne was angry with him.

“I don’t know what Kimmie did to her, but I’m going to find out,” he vowed.

“She cursed her.”

“I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“Adrienne does.”

Jayden glanced at her.

“She said her family is cursed. It’s why her sister was killed.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“She does,” Tara insisted. “I’m starting to think she’s right. Kimmie put a curse on her water to take away her singing voice. She was bragging about it.”

“It’s not real, Tara!” he said impatiently.

The elevator door opened, and they walked through the lobby. Tara dropped the subject, or so he thought. They left the building and crossed the street to his car.

“What if it is real?” Tara asked when they’d both closed the doors.

Jayden clenched his jaw. It was bad enough that Adrienne was hurting. He wasn’t going to humor any talk about the sweet girl believing in something as backwards as voodoo. Then again, Tara had claimed Adrienne read her cards last weekend.

“How do you explain that she has a voice except when she sings?” Tara demanded. “Didn’t you say your grandmama even said she was cursed and attacked her?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tara. It’s not real!” he snapped.

“You don’t want it to be real, Jayden, but that doesn’t make it less true. Kimmie’s done things like this before to other girls, and she’s tried to curse you. It never works with you.”

“I’m sure she just put something in Adrienne’s water bottle.”

Jayden didn’t want to consider Kimmie going to this extent to hurt Adrienne. He’d dated Kimmie for two years and never thought her capable of putting something in Adrienne’s water. But curses? It was a new level of dysfunction, even for Kimmie.

He’d been thinking of his grandmama’s words since the assembly. He was embarrassed to admit that he’d thought about Kimmie’s curse the moment Adrienne began to cough instead of sing.

“I don’t know, Tara.”

“Why would Kimmie’s hexes work against Adrienne but not you?”

He touched the dog tags around his neck. Was there a chance his grandmama was right? If so, were his dog tags the reason Kimmie’s spells didn’t work against him?

Tara sighed noisily. “I didn’t do it, but I feel like I have to help her,” she complained. “She’s afraid of being kicked out of school if she can’t sing.”

“Because of her scholarship.” The seriousness of the situation dawned on him. He’d been worried about her before, but he hadn’t considered that Adrienne might be forced to leave school over the stupid prank.

“Yeah. Hey, can you ask your grandmama for like a cure or something?”

“I don’t know.” Jayden gripped the steering wheel. If he admitted voodoo was possible, was he losing his battle to keep his mother out of its influence?

“Oh! I need to get a new cheer uniform. Can you take me home first?” Tara asked, gaze out the window.

“Yeah.”

Distracted by his thoughts, Jayden drove them home first and pulled up to the front door. He put the car into park with a glance at the time. Assuming Tara didn’t spend an hour changing and putting on new makeup, they’d barely make it before they were supposed to be at the pre-game meeting at school.

Tara darted out of the car and into the house.

Jayden checked his email, hoping Adrienne had responded.

She didn’t.

Did he blame her? Uncertain what to do, he scrolled through his contacts until he found his grandmama’s phone number.

Was he really considering calling her about this voodoo insanity?

Tara was right. It was bizarre that Adrienne couldn’t sing, but could talk and that her voice going out corresponded with Kimmie’s claim of a curse. Couldn’t it be nerves?

No, Adrienne relished the thought of proving herself to the school by singing.

If there was the smallest possibility that a weird curse was behind this, didn’t he owe it to her to help?

After the other day, his grandmama was one of the last people he wanted to call. He set down the phone, his anger remaining from the horrible visit. He touched his dog tags again.

If any of this was real, and if his grandmama was serious about protecting him, he could give his tags to Adrienne. Maybe they would help counteract whatever Kimmie did.

He considered the idea, reluctant to admit magic was real but more concerned about Adrienne. He realized how much he didn’t know about her. He’d been vocal about his view of voodoo, never stopping to consider what her beliefs might be.

She was poor and believed in magic. His daddy would have a fit if he found out how much Jayden liked her. Of course, if she bore a grudge deep enough to write him off or got kicked out of school, he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

He’d failed to protect her twice. He wasn’t going to fail her again. If that meant he broke down and called his grandmama, then he would. He owed her that at least.

Jayden eyed the phone. Finally, he picked it up and dialed.

His grandmama never answered on the first ring but appeared to be waiting for him this day.

“Bonjour,” she answered.

“Hey, Grandmama.”

“Hello, my Jayden.”

He took a deep breath. “I brought a friend the other day.”

“The white zombie,” she said expectantly.

“Her name is Adrienne,” he said, anger bubbling “You know what? This is a mistake.”

“La-tche chatte pousse avec temps. You are coming around. Do you wear your grandpapa’s gift?”

“Yes.”

“Good. She was not the white zombie I expected. I think her sister is the white zombie,” his grandmama said calmly, cheerfully.

“Her dead sister?”

“She’s no dead, Jayden.”

This is crazy. “Anyway, Grandmama, you said Adrienne was cursed. A girl at school put a curse on her. I need to know how to fix it.”

“The girl who curse you?”

“Probably.”

There was a pause. “You bring her here. I will fix it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You cut off her ear last time she visited,” he reminded his grandmother. “I doubt she’ll be up for visiting again. Can you make … uh, something I can give her?”

“I have her hair, blood and flesh. I should be able to.”

“You kept her earlobe?”

“Of course.”

Jayden rubbed his face and bit his tongue to keep from shouting at the crazy old woman. What was he thinking, calling her about Adrienne?

“I’ll come out Sunday,” he forced himself to say in a measured tone.

“You know, Jay, you are the hundredth firstborn in our House.” She paused thoughtfully.

“And … what?” he prodded.

“You are not cursed and she is. Your pasts are linked, and so are your futures. Do you not see it?”

“I don’t want to know, Grandmama,” he said, at the end of his patience. “I didn’t want to call you and I don’t want to see you after what you did to her. But she … believes in this stuff, and that’s why I’m talking to you.”

“I understand, my prince,” she said in a hushed tone. “One day, I hope you will come to understand all that I’ve done.”

“Let’s get through this weekend first,” he said. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Very well, Jayden.”

“Okay, so I’ll call before I come up. Have a good weekend.” He hung up.

He felt like he needed a shower at the mere thought of going into his grandmama’s freakish shed. He didn’t even feel badly this time at the odd sorrow in her voice. He was done with his mama’s family after this weekend.

The reminder of why – and who – he was doing it for eased some of his revulsion.

Adrienne was too upset to talk to him today. Tara was right. He’d give her some space then find her tomorrow. After all, he knew where she worked. He’d drop by to check in on her.

Tara reappeared five minutes later, still wearing Adrienne’s clothing. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder and her makeup case in hand. She opened the door.

“It’ll take me forever to get ready!” she complained, dropping into the car. “Drive slow, Jay. People can’t see me without makeup.”

He snorted. She was pretty either way, but he was in no rush to get back to school. Not until he’d cooled off a little more.

Chapter Sixteen

Marie Toussaint stood at the sink in her kitchen, washing dishes while her daughter, Bess, dried. She heard her son speak from the direction of the front porch and stopped to listen, curious about who had come to visit.

“G’evenin’.” Tommy’s deep voice drifted into the house.

Assuming it was one of the grandkids who lived in the neighborhood, Marie checked the bowl on top of the counter near the door to the living room. It was always loaded with treats and the first place the kids went.

It was full, as usual.

“Who is it, Tommy?” Bess called.

“Damned if I know.”

The eldest of her kids, Bess tried to take care of everyone or bullied them to death trying. Marie watched her toss the towel she was using to dry dishes and storm out of the kitchen.

“Who did you bring me here?” Marie whispered to the spirits, looking up.

Candace.

Marie stilled in her movements. From what she knew, the mambos rarely left the city. If the House leader herself was seeking her out, it had to be about something important.

Drying her hands, Marie shuffled into the living room just as Bess opened the door for the graceful, gracious Candace.

“Madame Marie,” Candace said with a smile.

The cats came out of the woodwork when she entered, sensing her subtle, but powerful healing magic. The five of them surrounded her, nuzzling her legs.

“Welcome!” Marie said, grinning. “Shoo!” She waved the cats away and took Candace’s hand, anxious to take her to the magic-protected shed out back.

“Goodness, Marie, you need an AC unit in here,” Candace said.

“Oh don’t go there!” Bess snapped.

In her fury after Jayden brought the girl over, Marie had tossed the working AC out the window, breaking it into pieces when it fell. She’d been worried about the white zombie lacing it with black magic spells, only to discover she’d been wrong about the girl completely.

And now, she once again had no AC.

You coulda told me sooner, she addressed the spirits silently.

She led Candace out of the house and to her special place to perform rites then lit candles dressed with cascarilla powder and vanilla on the table where she did most of her spell work.

“I’ve never seen such a collection,” Candace said, admiring the bookshelf dedicated to thumb-sized vials of oils. “Marie, you must have everything.”

“I hope I do,” Marie said proudly.

“I brought you some tea.” Candace held out a small tin of loose leaf tea. “May I?” She motioned to a chair.

“Yes.” Marie waited for her to get comfortable, anxious to hear why the House leader was here.

“The girl I told you about,” Candace started. She tapped the table with her fingernails, gaze growing distant. “I spent the morning in meditation, communicating with my ancestors. Marie, I think she’s the chosen one you spoke of this past weekend.”

Marie listened intently. First, Jayden called to ask if he could visit for a voodoo-related reason, now this. It was an incredible bountiful day, in terms of good news.

“You said you knew who she was?” Candace asked. “You learned this week?”

Marie’s eyes went to a jar on one of her shelves. She pushed herself to her feet and crossed to it, returning with the jar in her hand.

Candace lifted it, peering at the small segment of an earlobe suspended in gel.

“I mistook her for the white zombie,” Marie explained. “She wasn’t no zombie. When I made a spell with her blood, I got a vision. She is the chosen.” She pointed to the flesh.

“Is this … Adrienne’s?” Candace asked. “This is what happened to her ear?”

Marie nodded.

Candace smiled and then chuckled. She set the jar down. “What a fortunate turn of events. Even if by accident, you are able to confirm what I felt was true.”

“The white zombie haunts her, as does the Red Man,” Marie said. “But I don’t know why. The spirits won’t tell me nothing more.”

“I’ve sought answers as well. All they tell me is that the chosen is going to be misled. Does that make sense to you?”

Marie tilted her head, working on recalling everything the spirits had shared with her.

“Or maybe you can tell me what it is you’re hiding, Marie,” Candace continued. “Because they tell me you have the secret I need to help Adrienne.”

“No secret.”

“Marie,” Candace chided.

Marie sighed. She debated what to do. If her grandson wasn’t mixed up in this and the chosen not essential to the future of all of them, she’d continue to cover up the entire truth. As it was, she might need Candace to help Jayden one day.

Not everything, the spirits told her.

“The curse you are trying to break,” she began. “My family helped the bokor who created it. Long ago.”

Candace’s eyes widened.

“You cannot tell no one of this. Even the chosen,” Marie said sternly.

“I swear on the spirits of my ancestors, I will not.”

“There were three families involved in the curse who seem to be involved in the prophecy, too. I do not know all the details, except that my family, Jayden’s father’s family, and the family of the Adrienne girl and white zombie were all a part of it.”

“Your family was not cursed.”

“No. We were spared. But we are involved in the prophecy, through Jayden. Quand li gagnin kichose dans so latete, ce pas dans so lapie.” I’m used to seeing sky as “ciel”.

“Agree, except it won’t just be the flies caught if the sky falls.” Candace took the information in.

“My family helped the white zombie’s ancestor create the black magic that would grant the wishes of the two lovers. The curse should be over. Ninety-nine firstborns from each of the two lovers’ families are dead. Jayden is the hundredth born, the first in four hundred years who is not cursed.”

“But something happened on Adrienne’s side, within the Fourth House. The white zombie – her sister – thwarted the Red Man, and now Adrienne bears the mark of the curse,” Candace finished. “Which set into play the prophecy.”

“Yes,” Marie said with a sigh. It was almost a relief to have the dark secret off her shoulders. “But I can’t understand why the white zombie poses a threat. The spirits scream at me, say if she regains what was hers, she will draw forth evil and destroy many. We have found a Warrior in Rene, the Chosen in the girl, and … I think Jayden is the Devil. But for what purpose?”

Candace frowned.

“It makes my head hurt. I pray and beg the spirits and gods each night for answers,” Marie said sadly. “All they tell me: Keep Jayden safe. Don’t let the white zombie get him. Keep him safe.”

“If he’s the Devil, he may be free of the curse, but he’s not free of whatever happened four hundred years ago,” Candace said. She took Marie’s hands. “The curse and the prophecy are connected, the way your families are.”

Marie squeezed her, sensing her friend and fellow mambos was as worried and lost as she was.

“Thank you for trusting me, Marie,” Candace said. “Adrienne is safe. Rene watches over her.”

“The reluctant warrior is rising,” Marie said, smiling.

“Complaining all the way.”

“He is a good boy. I worry there is no one to protect my Jayden.”

Candace was quiet for a moment. Marie took the jar with Adrienne’s earlobe back to the shelf, aware it was far more important than she could understand. If she needed to make a spell against the white zombie, what was more powerful than the flesh and blood of her sister?

What kind of spell stopped someone neither living nor dead?

“What if we talked to the Red Man?” Candace asked in a hushed tone.

Marie turned, startled by the question.

“I know. It sounds crazy. I don’t know what else to do. I’m doing my best to help Adrienne, but I don’t have all the answers she needs.”

“I understand. But Candace, the Red Man … summoning a spirit like his will require the blackest of magic.”

“I know.” Candace rose, distraught. “You know my brother performs such magic. I can ask for his help.”

“No, Candace. My ancestors thought the same long ago and drew the Red Man’s curse upon them.” Marie shook her head gravely. “We cannot risk it.”

“What do we do?”

“What the spirits tell us. Help Adrienne, and I will help Jayden.”

Candace drew a deep breath. “You’re right. Of course. It is so hard for me to see her in pain, to know I may not be able to save her. She’s a good girl, Marie. The spirits are drawn to her. She is meant for … something great.”

“Like Jayden. My ancestors don’t tell me why.”

They exchanged looks of concern.

“We are doing all we can,” Candace said. “I will keep researching and praying. There’s more. I just don’t know what it is.”

I’m sorry I can’t tell you, my friend. Marie smiled in comfort. “We can only do what the spirits let us.”

Even if it meant lying to someone who might be able to help.

Chapter Seventeen

Adrienne didn’t mean to cry herself to sleep. She awoke early the next morning, refreshed although her eyes were puffy. She didn’t want to think about the day before. The only thing that mattered today: figuring out more about the song she’d discovered.

With a jolt, she realized she hadn’t left her daddy dinner and it was almost too late to get ready and make him breakfast. He might think something was really wrong, if she didn’t get herself together. Explaining to him that she’d lost her voice and been made a fool of in front of the school wasn’t how she wanted to start her weekend.

She sat up and glanced around. The apartment was quiet at six thirty in the morning, though her daddy would be up soon to get ready for work. He left at seven thirty, and she left at seven for Madame Estelle’s.

She rose and crossed to her dresser, stopping when she saw the mirror.

You must sing.

The words appeared to have been written in blood. She rubbed her face, upset by the sight of blood but more than that, angered at the constant reminders of a danger she didn’t understand.

“What? You couldn’t find no sticky notes?” she asked in frustration. “You know who has to clean this up? It ain’t you!”

Adrienne almost started crying again, distressed at the reminder that she’d lost more than her faith in humanity the day before. She scribbled the newest communication on a piece of paper and added the note to her collection. Whether it was her sister’s spirit or some other supernatural entity, she was pissed that something had decided to pour salt in her wounds first thing in the morning, not to mention cost her time getting ready by having to clean off her mirror.

She took a quick shower and changed into the long skirt and bright purple blouse that made up her uniform at Madame Estelle’s. She tied a bright scarf around her hips and added a choker then tied her hair in a bun.

“Daddy, you up?” she called, hurrying from her bedroom to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” came the groggy response.

Not wanting to talk to him about yesterday or Candace yet, she made him scrambled eggs as fast as she could then pushed down the handle of the toaster.

“Breakfast is ready!” she shouted and grabbed her cross-body bag then her tarot cards. “I’m late! Email me if you need anything.” She didn’t wait for his response before pulling the door closed behind her and hurrying to the elevator.

Adrienne glanced down to make sure she looked decent, even though she felt horrible. She’d always thought she looked cute in the outfit the Madame Estelle gifted her after being impressed by her reading skills. Swiping on some mascara and lip gloss in the elevator, she readied herself to face the world when all she wanted to do was hide.

She wasn’t excited about going to work to earn money to produce her own album. She didn’t look forward to counting her tips and putting aside lunch money for next week. After a few minutes of thought on the slow elevator, she realized why.

There may not be lunches next week and if there were, they wouldn’t be with Emma, who would probably no longer be her friend. She’d done exactly what Emma said she would and turned against her. And what happened if Candace’s tea didn’t lift the curse before she lost her scholarship? No amount of tip money would let her stay in the exclusive academy. If she couldn’t sing, she couldn’t produce an album or have Christie help her prepare for an audition for a conservatory. She felt like she was about to lose everything that mattered in her life. She’d end up broken and poor, like her daddy, or crazy and poor, like her mama.

The elevator doors opened, and she froze.

Jayden was in the lobby. He turned at the elevator’s ding.

The doors started to close. Adrienne crossed her arms and walked out, afraid to know why he was there.

“Um, you want a ride?” he asked, shifting feet nervously. He wore chinos and a polo that skimmed his muscular form. He held her gaze.

Adrienne shook her head.

“It’s raining.”

She glanced past him out the door. He was right. Her walk to the bus stop would be miserable, but he hated magic. If he didn’t run away from her after yesterday, he would when he saw where she worked.

If he does, I’ll know we just ain’t meant to be.

“Please.”

“All right,” she murmured.

He opened the door for her. “Wait here. I can get the car.”

Adrienne walked past him, breathing in his fresh, masculine scent. She almost objected about not melting in the rain but stopped. She was still angry, and the idea of him getting wet made her feel a little better.

Jayden trotted out of sight and reappeared a few minutes at the wheel of his car.

She got into the passenger side and closed the door.

“You work at Madame Estelle’s?” he asked.

She nodded. They fell into quiet for a moment.

“What’re you doing here, Jayden?” she asked.

“Driving you to work.”

“No. Really.”

He glanced at her. “I wanted to see you.”

Adrienne refused to take his words seriously. He’d been part of her set up. Maybe he was taking pity on her or maybe, he felt guilty and wanted her to make him feel better.

She wasn’t going to, though.

“You not talking to me now?” he asked.

“Should I be?”

“Look, Adrienne, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

“How ‘bout explaining why you didn’t give me no warning? Or maybe you can tell me how far you went to set me up for such an epic fall.”

“What? I –”

“We’re here. Thanks for the ride.” She opened the door and got out, not listening to him. Instead, she trotted into the small shop.

Adrienne’s plain, dark room fit her mood today. A clean tablecloth was on the table, and she sat, leaning down to put her purse in the box under the table. She closed it then spread out the maroon tablecloth and then set her cards on top.

Rattled, yet thrilled by the idea that Jayden went out of his way to seek her out, she drew several deep breaths before stepping out of her room to see if he’d left.

Jayden was the only person seated in the small waiting area. He smiled when she emerged from the back.

“So, um, why do you work here?” he asked, glancing around. While uneasy, he gave no indication he was in a hurry to leave.

“Not many people can read cards like I can,” she said with some pride. “I know you don’t believe in no magic, but I am good at what I do.”

“I believe that without a doubt,” he replied. “Is it … um, real?”

“Yeah. The cards tell a story. It ain’t always easy to understand the story, though. Like each card can mean something different to each person.”

“Interesting.” He didn’t seem to know what to say for a minute. “On TV they always get the death card. Seems … weird.”

“The Death card means change,” she said with a small smile. “It’s a good card in the right context.”

“We won last night,” he said, returning the smile. “You weren’t there.”

How could he bring up such a sore topic? Adrienne started to say something then stopped. The door jingled and someone walked in. By the slightly lost look, she assumed it was the woman’s first reading.

Adrienne shifted her attention to the client then led her back to one of the psychic’s rooms.

When she returned, three more people were standing in a line, waiting to be seen.

Jayden had picked up a Psychics Today magazine and was reading, one eyebrow quirked up skeptically.

The sight made her want to laugh. Was he trying to understand her world or just trying to figure out why he was there?

She took her client back for a reading. They lasted thirty minutes, and as soon as she was finished, the psychic sent over another client.

Adrienne had a steady flow of clients for a few hours before she decided to take a break. Assuming Jayden had gotten tired of being ignored, she was surprised when she went to the front and saw him seated where he had been earlier, talking to a couple of the regulars who came every Saturday since she began reading cards there.

When he saw her, he flashed a smile at the two and stood, crossing to the counter.

“Got you a coffee.” He placed it on the counter. “Not sure what you liked, so I got a mocha.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re still here.”

“I’ll wait ‘til you have time to talk or until you’re done working.”

Adrienne felt badly. She wanted to despise him and think the worst after yesterday. Gazing at him, she found it hard to deny what her heart told her. She’d been half in love with him since he almost knocked her over in the cafeteria. Yesterday did nothing to change how she felt and neither did the cards that kept warning her that they’d face danger if they were together.

What was she supposed to do?

“Yeah, right,” she said finally.

“I will. Watch. Keep ignoring me.”

She tried not to smile. Adrienne took her coffee and turned away, disappearing behind the curtain leading to the back. The mischievous side of her wanted to prove him wrong, if for no other reason then so she could write him off as the jerk she desperately wanted to consider him. She doubted someone as popular and handsome as Jayden would need to stick around to impress a girl when he had to have a million others waiting for him.

Jayden didn’t budge. Adrienne peeked out at him after each client. She watched him, though, when he didn’t know she was looking. He played on his phone, and made friends of almost everyone who walked in. With his easygoing nature, Jayden got along with everyone from the superstitious old ladies to the Japanese tourists. He seemed to have fun, listening and laughing with them.

What was it about him that fascinated her enough for her to disregard the warnings of her cards? They’d spoken of a connection in their past. Was this what she felt? Their ancestors shared a history?

The mid-afternoon lull came at around three. Adrienne drew a breath and went to the small break area in back for some water. When she returned to her room, Jayden was seated at the table.

“What’re you doing?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

“Getting my cards read or future predicted. Whatever you do,” he replied with a smile.

“So you can make fun of me more after yesterday?”

“I would never do that.” He sounded so sincere that the edge of her anger melted.

Adrienne sat down across from him, feeling nervous being alone with him. She feared learning what he thought of her after yesterday.

“How does this work?” he asked, glancing at the cards.

“Well,” she paused, face growing warm. Would he think she was silly or stupid? “You take the cards and they absorb your energy. Just shuffle them around.” She pushed them towards him. “Think about something you want to know while you do it.”

“Like the future?”

“More like a question or a particular problem or circumstance.”

He was quiet, thoughtful, as he shifted and shuffled the cards. “Okay. Do I tell you?”

“You don’t have to.” She watched him for a moment then patted the table. “Set them cards down.”

He did.

Her heart was beating quickly at the thought of him deciding she was too backwards or superstitious.

Adrienne laid out six cards and studied them, concentrating hard. She wanted to make this good for him.

“This is you,” she said, pointing to the familiar Devil. “I um, pulled your card earlier this week and when Tara came here last weekend. I didn’t know it was you at the time.”

“The devil?” his eyes widened. “Wow.”

“It ain’t bad,” she told him. “Well, I mean, it ain’t like you’re a demon. It means you’re trapped. Or maybe you feel trapped.” She shook her head. “I’m sick of this card.”

“Which one?”

She pointed to the Ace of Cups. “It keeps popping, but I don’t know why.”

“What does it mean?”

“A connection to the past. But like, it means there’s something in your past that is stickin’ with you.”

At his silence, she glanced up.

Jayden was staring at her. He shifted and leaned forward in interest.

Her brow furrowed. “That means something to you?”

“Maybe. What else?”

“I’ll explain them then put them together into a story,” she said. “This one indicates you’re afraid of yourself or at least, of letting who you are shine through. This one, that you must not fear change. This one …” She flushed. “… could indicate that you fall too quickly in love or um, don’t think twice before making a decision that backfires on you.” She rushed on. “This is strange. It shows that you um, have a duality of heart. You fall for two women?” She eyed him.

Jayden met her gaze then laughed. “No. Definitely not me. I don’t need any woman right now.”

“Oh.” The words hit her hard.

“I mean, I don’t mean that like that … not about you,” he stumbled. “Anyway, what story does it tell?”

Wounded, she nonetheless studied the cards. The sense of danger lingered around his cards.

“This one means there’s hope,” she said. “You, the man trapped by his past, will make a hasty decision that backfires on you, possibly about the women in your life. But that there’s a chance for you to redeem yourself, if you’re brave enough to make a choice that takes you out of your comfort zone.”

Jayden was quiet.

“Did you ask about um, romance?” she asked him.

“No,” he said then laughed. “I asked what was going to happen next week.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know what to ask. This really means I’m trapped by my past?” He touched the two cards.

“It means you might feel that way, yes. Do you?”

“Actually, yeah. I don’t know about the rest of it, but that part is true.”

“Why?”

“Long story. Not a good one.” He studied her then fingered the dog tags at his neck. “Tara said you want to drop out of school.”

Adrienne ducked her head. “I can’t go back.”

“You have to. Emma needs a friend.”

“I messed that up, too. I make a mess of everything.” She saddened to think of Emma eating lunch alone.

“That’s totally not true.”

“I stood her up Friday to eat with y’all.” Adrienne’s face flushed, this time in anger. “I knew I should’ve sat with her but I didn’t. I thought … I thought Kimmie and you and everyone else were my friends.”

“I am. Or, I want to be,” he said. “Kimmie is a lost cause. You can’t let one stupid person run you out of school.”

“One stupid person. Hmm. How about the half a dozen people who knew what she was fixin’ to do and didn’t tell me?”

“You have every right to be mad. It’s cool. I get it.” Jayden cleared his throat. “Don’t let her … or I guess, us, be the reason you don’t come back. I’ve heard you sing, Adrienne. You deserve that chance to break into the industry. I know you can do it.”

“I can’t keep up with the classes and I have no singing voice. They’ll kick me out soon anyway,” she said miserably.

“Then I’ll help you with class.”

Just thinking of her embarrassment in front of the whole school made her want to run away to New Orleans.

“Think about it?” he prodded. “What do your cards say?”

She said nothing for a long moment. “They say I need to be here, but that there’s danger here, too.”

“Worse than Kimmie?”

“A lot worse.”

“Take these.” Jayden pulled off the dog tags he wore around his neck. “My grandmama put a protective spell on them to keep me safe.”

Her eyes flew up to his. “I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff.”

“I don’t. Not really,” he said with a shrug. “But Tara said you do, and your card trick kinda has me wondering. If these help you stay, then I’ll believe they’re magical.”

Adrienne’s determination to keep her distance began to crumble. She took the dog tags carefully. They were faded and warm from time, but she was able to read the name stamped on them.

“Jayden, I can’t take them.”

“They’re yours. If you decide to go back to Georgia, then maybe you can remember me when you look at them. If you want to remember me,” he rushed on with a sloppy smile.

“You’re serious?” she asked, searching his gaze. “You want me to have them?”

“Yeah.” He took it out of her hands then stood and leaned to drape the ball chain over her neck. “They’re almost a hundred years old. They’ve gotta be good luck to make it that long, right?”

She chewed on her lower lip, not wanting to smile. It tugged free, and she nodded, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“Thank you, Jayden,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome. Adrienne,” he paused, visibly struggling with the words. “I want a second chance with you.”

She gazed at him longingly, wanting to believe him and the idea they had a chance.

“There’s an issue, though. I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

“Issue?” she asked, thoughts on her daddy’s run down apartment and the dog tags.

“Not with you,” he said quickly. “My family. Your cards … they kinda hit home. I need to think about something.”

“They want to cut off my other ear?” she half-joked, blood racing as she tried to interpret what he was saying. Did he want to see her again or not? Were the dog tags a farewell gift or a gift to someone he hoped would become more than friends?

“No, nothing like that.” His gaze was distant. “Can I ask you to be patient with me, until I figure this out?”

“Patient? What do you mean?” Her thoughts went to the cards that said there was someone else in his near future, someone he might love.

“I guess I mean, I want a second chance with you. More than anything else in my life.” He frowned. “I have to figure out something first.”

“Stop being so vague!” she said, sighing. “You either like me or you don’t!”

Jayden laughed. “I do. I know I do.” The intensity of his gaze made her face warm.

“You ain’t embarrassed to be seen with me at school, are you?” she whispered.

“Of course not. I plan on talking to Kimmie about what she did. It was stupid to mess with your scholarship like that. Just … let me think a little this weekend, okay?”

Adrienne wasn’t certain how to feel. He’d spent the whole day waiting for the opportunity to talk to her but wasn’t willing to go out with her for reasons he wouldn’t say.

Not that she would trust him or let him back into her life so easily. But she wanted to know that she hadn’t lost him, either.

“We both need to think,” she said. “I don’t want to risk our feelings if I can’t stay.”

Jayden searched her gaze. “You have to stay, Addy. No matter what happens. You have to follow your dream. Once the right people hear you sing, you’ll be famous. I know it.”

I have no voice! She wanted to scream the reminder, but didn’t, afraid of crying if she brought up what happened if she failed to recover her singing voice.

“Sometimes, timing is just … not quite right with things,” Jayden continued. “I know I want to be more than your friend. I don’t know how to juggle dating and everything else.”

There was more that he wasn’t saying, and she couldn’t guess what. He said it wasn’t directed at her, but she couldn’t help thinking that her family and humiliation at school were part of it. The troubled look that crossed his face when she told him about being trapped by his past returned.

“It’s okay, Jayden. We both have a lot to think about,” she murmured.

“I promise, I’ll tell you more in a few days.”

She nodded, not really believing him. On Monday, she’d figure out for sure what he was trying to say. If he avoided her at school or helped others to ridicule her, then she’d know he was trying to alleviate his own guilt this weekend without any real interest in dating her.

But maybe, that was for the better. With the Red Man haunting her, did she really want to drag Jayden into her backwards world anyway?

“I can drop you off at home, if you’re ready,” he said.

She was almost relieved at the chance for some time alone to think.

Adrienne rose and wove her way through the tables to the door. Jayden pushed it open for her, and she stepped into the balmy, cloudy afternoon.

He was trying. She’d give him that much. She couldn’t believe he’d given her his great grandfather’s dog tags, and she wasn’t certain what exactly that meant. He’d helped embarrass her yesterday then given her something of great value today.

They were quiet on the short drive home. Adrienne was surprised to see someone waiting for her in front of the apartment building.

“Hmmm,” Jayden said. “You want me to walk you in?”

“No. That’s Rene. He’s nice. Well, he’s always cranky, but he’s a good person,” she said.

Jayden didn’t look impressed at the sight of the thug.

Adrienne smiled. “Thank you, Jayden.”

“You’re welcome. Think things over. Email or call or whatever, if you want.” His narrowed gaze was on Rene.

“Okay.” She got out of the car and closed the door, waving.

Jayden drove off.

Adrienne approached Rene, planting her hands on her hips.

He rolled his eyes at her. “You back with the rich boy?”

“He drove me to work and back. That’s it,” she said. “You have anything for me?”

“Maybe. You got time to see Candace?”

“I don’t feel like it. Had nothing but bad luck the past couple of days.”

“You a diva, girl. She’s got news for you. You don’t want it, that’s on you. I ain’t gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

Ugh. She kept getting sucked in. Was she foolish for wanting to trust Jayden and Candace?

“Okay,” she said unhappily.

“You got your drawing?”

She nodded.

Rene pushed himself away from the wall and walked with her the ten minutes to Candace’s café. Two customers sat in the corner, drinking coffee and talking. Candace was at the counter. She opened the curtains for them to enter the protected area of her shrine room.

“I’ll join you in a minute,” she said, then closed the curtains.

A stack of paper was in the middle of the table.

Adrienne gazed at it then gasped.

“Rene! You did it!” she exclaimed, recognizing the writing from her sister’s journal. He had copied each page of the journal.

Adrienne flung her arms around Rene. He hugged her back.

“You wanna thank me, hook me up with that piece of ass I saved in the alley last night,” he told her, his breath tickling the hair around her ear in a way that made her shiver.

“Tara?” she asked. “Really?”

“She’s hot and you ain’t interested.”

“I never said …” She stopped, suddenly aware of what he was saying. She was surprised to feel a little jealous. “You never asked me.”

“I ain’t your type. You like rich boys with no spines.”

“You don’t know that,” she returned.

“He wasn’t man enough to stand up for you after you lost your singing voice.”

“At least he was man enough to ask me out, and he came to see me today!” She pushed him away enough to glare up at him. “It doesn’t matter what he did or didn’t do yesterday.” The pain of the memory caught her by surprise, and her eyes watered. “What would you have done?”

“Messed up anyone who hurt you. Not let you run out into the city on your own. You a good girl. You need someone who sees that and treats you right. Obviously, he don’t.”

Adrienne’s anger swirled away. “That’s real sweet, Rene.”

“Yeah, well …” His blue-green gaze was intent enough to send a flutter through her. His hands lingered on her arms. Despite the tattoos and roughened exterior, he had a gentle heart, one she innately knew was good. “You wanna go out?”

She hesitated. Strong and confident, Rene was the one who knew the most about her and the only one who had never let her down or run away. He was frustrating at times, but he never disappointed her.

But Jayden went out of his way today to sit with her and apologize, to try to get to know her world, even if he disliked magic.

“Think about it.” Rene took a step back and cleared his throat, uncomfortable in the awkward silence that fell between them.

“Okay. I will,” she said.

Rene flung himself into his corner chair.

Adrienne sat down and pulled the stack of papers towards her. Someone had started circling the capitalized letters already, and she picked up a pen, flipping pages until she found one without the circles.

“I found out something,” Candace said, watching her. “You want to hear it?”

Adrienne nodded, focused on her task.

“There are three original Houses here in New Orleans, bloodlines with roots in serving the spirits who have been here for four hundred years. Your appearance marks the return of the Fourth House, which started out in New Orleans and then disappeared. Rene and Jax are from House DuBois, my brother and I are from House Igbo. The third is just outside of the city,” Candace started. “I called everyone I could from all three families. I found someone I think can help, a powerful priestess. She’s a little … off.”

Adrienne glanced up. Candace appeared baffled and amused at the same time.

“She knew things I didn’t know were possible, like another verse of the lullaby your grandmama sang you.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s the beginning of the story. The man who bought the spell was in love with the bokor who created it. He was from a poor family and she from a wealthy one with secret, superstitious roots. She warned him, but he insisted she make the spell, so he could have the gold he needed to win over her father and marry her. That’s how it starts.”

Adrienne listened. “I’m guessing by the second verse Mama sent me things didn’t go the way they intended.”

“No, they didn’t. The curse of ninety nine fell upon both. Marie Toussaint believes ninety nine refers to the number of people meant to die in each family as a result of what these two did.”

Adrienne’s mouth fell open. How many years and people were caught up in the curse?

“We think the two lovers were separated, but both their bloodlines suffered from the jinx, which could’ve spanned about four hundred years. If true, Marie believes your family’s penance should’ve ended with the death of your sister. It didn’t, if you’re marked. It’s spreading instead.”

“Why?”

“Not sure.” Candace shrugged. “We need the third piece of the lullaby, the part that discusses what happens if the curse is not carried out. We think there might be information about a prophecy connected to the curse. I’m not even certain how this fits into it.” She motioned to the stack of papers. “Your sister found something.”

“How to break it?”

“Maybe. Or maybe how to evade it. This … song, if that’s what it is, could be very dangerous, Adrienne.”

“Therese wouldn’t want me to find it, if so.”

“What makes you think she wanted anyone to find it? That it’s not a demonic spirit trying to trick you?”

“She told me.”

Candace was silent.

Adrienne glanced up and saw the surprise on her face.

“I forgot to tell you about the stickies,” she said. She put her pen down and pulled out the iPad, to the notes she’d made of the sticky note mysteries. She handed it to Candace. Candace read them aloud.

“I’m glad you’re here.

Be careful. He is coming.

Keep the journal safe.

Free us. Find the key.

Get my journal back.

You must sing.”

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Adrienne said. “Except each note is written in a different person’s handwriting and none of them are Therese’s.”

Rene stood fast enough to knock his chair over. He left quickly, startling both of them. Adrienne stared after him then shook her head, assuming the gang member was having one of his moods.

“What do you think?” Adrienne asked.

“I think something else is going on here. It’s not unheard of for a mambos or houngan to write or speak in tongues when the spirits take them. Different handwriting would indicate different people were possessed. But six notes all for you, by six people … someone is trying to talk to you. Your sister or someone else with an interest in you and her fate,” Candace said slowly. “I’ve never seen this level of persistence.”

“There’s a very important reason behind all this,” Adrienne said matter-of-factly. “I know it. Now that I know what this writing is, I can piece together the music.”

“To do what?”

“Sing it. I mean, Therese and I both sing. Maybe that’s the key to freeing her. Somehow.”

“Freeing her from what?”

Adrienne shrugged. “First, I need my voice back.” She sighed.

“That could take a while,” Candace said. “If it comes back at all.”

“You think I should go back to school and confront Kimmie.”

“I think that is the quickest and best solution. She can help you get it back.”

Adrienne bit her lower lip, disturbed by the idea of facing the entire school.

Jayden wanted her to stay. He’d made that much clear.

“Candace, why didn’t you tell me you were dating my daddy? Did you know that when Rene brought me here?”

“I knew when I saw you. Your daddy is very proud of his girls. He showed me pictures,” Candace said, smiling. “I’m sorry, Adrienne. I wanted things to unfold at their own pace.”

“It hasn’t been an easy move,” Adrienne murmured. “I miss my friends and school, and I’m trying to find out what happened to Therese, because … ” She stopped.

“You’re afraid it’ll happen to you.”

Adrienne nodded.

“It’s a lot to deal with for someone your age.” Candace said. “I’ll talk to Marie Toussaint again this weekend and do some more research. Try out another week of school and focus on healing your voice and figuring out this song. We’ll meet here next weekend and figure out what our next steps are. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Unconvinced about school, Adrienne knew she at least needed time to write out all the notes of the song.

Candace wasn’t wrong about asking Kimmie to drop the curse, either. Adrienne wouldn’t be able to do it, if she wasn’t at school.

“I’m going home,” she decided. “I’m taking these, okay?” She picked up the papers.

“Of course. You should wait for Rene, though.”

“It’s the middle of the day. I’ll be fine,” Adrienne replied, tired of being treated like a kid. She was capable of walking home by herself, if not figuring out her sister’s clues. She tucked the papers into her bag then stood. “I’ll see you later, Candace.”

“Take my card. If you need anything, call.” Candace handed her a gray business card.

Adrienne tucked it into the front pocket of her bag. She left the café and glanced up at the sky. It looked and smelled like more rain was coming, but the clouds were holding their downpour for now.

She started down the street, reviewing her day mentally. It started out as miserable with the rain, work and too painful memories of the day before.

Jayden managed to change all that. No matter how confused she felt about him, she could appreciate seeing him sit in the psychic’s waiting room all day, waiting for her to give him a chance to say his piece.

She touched the dog tags at her neck. Maybe he was confused, too, but he’d given her a gift of great personal significance. That had to count for something, right?

She half expected Rene to appear to escort her and was pleased that he didn’t. She kept to the sidewalks and avoided the alleys, knowing he was probably the only one willing to help her out, if she ran into his gang.

The rain started the moment after she stepped into the lobby of her daddy’s apartment building. It smelled like bleach, a sign the ancient caretaker had mopped at some point this afternoon. She went up to her floor and walked into the apartment.

Deep in thought, she tugged off her cross-body bag and dropped it on the kitchen table then stuck a cup with water in the microwave for tea.

The sound of the floor creaking beneath someone’s feet caught her attention. It came from the direction of the hallway leading to the apartment’s two bedrooms.

“Daddy?” she called.

No answer.

Brow furrowed, Adrienne walked down the hall, pausing to peek into the living room. It was quiet, the television off. She went to her daddy’s room. His door was open, the bed unmade, as usual. He wasn’t there.

The creaking came again. From her room.

She tiptoed the rest of the way down the hall to her doorway and froze.

Someone was in her room. A woman in jeans and t-shirt, tall with dark hair and pale skin.

“Who are you?” Adrienne demanded.

The woman turned. Her eyes were a bright shade of blue, her features pretty. She didn’t seem surprised, as if expecting to be discovered. She cocked her head to the side, blue eyes sweeping over Adrienne curiously.

The strange sense of standing close to Jax returned, as if this woman wasn’t completely … natural. The hair on Adrienne’s arms rose, and her pulse flew. It took every piece of her will power not to run.

A sticky note was on Adrienne’s nightstand.

The woman’s gaze followed hers, resting on the yellow square.

Adrienne studied the woman again, noticing the sweat dripping down the side of her face and the clammy sheen of her skin. The woman appeared to be under some sort of strain. She weaved as she stood, and there was tightness around her eyes and lips. Her clothing was rumpled, dirt along one leg of the pants.

Was she diseased? Sick? Crazy?

Moving back into the hallway, Adrienne silently thanked her daddy for paying the phone bill, so she could call the police.

“Don’t run, Adrienne,” the woman said, her attention slowly shifting back to her. “Please. Just let me talk to you.”

“You know who I am.” Adrienne’s panic grew too strong for her to contain.

She wasn’t calling the police – she was getting the hell out of there! She turned to dart down the hallway towards the door.

The woman was at the other end of the hallway.

Adrienne froze, her body aching with the tension of her muscles.

“Please,” the woman said again. “I don’t have much time or … ” She wobbled and caught herself against the wall.

Adrienne backed away. A frantic glance into her room revealed it was empty. Her breathing was fast enough that her ears were starting to buzz and tunnel vision formed. With her escape route and ability to reach the phone blocked, Adrienne sank against a wall, shaking.

The woman knelt as well, even paler.

Adrienne closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her breathing, terrified of what might happen if she passed out. Tears squeezed from her eyes as she struggled to control her body’s frantic response to finding a stranger in her house. After a moment, the dizzy spell passed, and she forced herself to focus.

The woman was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Her breathing was rough and quick.

“What do you want?” Adrienne managed.

“I brought you a … note.” She pointed with a quaking hand towards the bedroom.

With effort, Adrienne pushed herself up and went to her room. She picked up the sticky note on her nightstand.

“It’s blank,” she said, confused.

“I know,” the woman said from the hallway.

Curiosity got the better of her. Adrienne went to the doorway of her room, feeling somewhat safe knowing she could close the door and hide, if need be.

“I didn’t have time to write it,” the woman admitted.

“What should it say?”

“Help Jax.”

“What? Why?” Adrienne asked. “Omigod! Is he the man in red?” As soon as she asked the question, she realized it was stupid to ask a stranger about something from her sister’s journal.

“No,” the woman said. “He’s lost his way.”

The woman appeared to be growing weaker in front of Adrienne.

“Who are you?” she asked again.

The woman laughed, a husky, strained sound. “I don’t even know.” She drew a deep breath then pushed herself up to her feet.

“You came here to my home to tell me to help Jax. Did you write the other notes?”

“Yes and no.” The woman took a step towards her.

Adrienne shrank away, recalling what Candace said about the possibility that a spirit possessing different people had written the notes. This woman didn’t know who she was. Was she under the influence of a spirit?

“I wrote the warnings. Not the notes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. Just … you have to sing, Adrienne. You have to. Soon.” Her voice was growing faint, more strained.

Adrienne didn’t know what to say.

The stranger smiled then turned and started towards the door.

“Wait!” Adrienne cried, forcing herself forward. “I have so many questions! What does the song mean or do or …”

“Sing, sweet Addy. Sing.”

“Please wait! Tell me what this veve means!” Adrienne ducked into her room and wrenched open the nightstand, where she kept the other sticky notes and the drawing she’d traced of the Red Man’s veve.

When she returned to the hallway, the woman was gone.

With some apprehension, Adrienne ventured away from the safety of her room. She peeked into her daddy’s bedroom once more and the living room then the kitchen.

“Hello?” she whispered.

The door was locked from the inside, and the woman gone.

Shaking, Adrienne sat down numbly on the couch, unable to explain what just happened. Had she just met a possessed woman? If so, whose spirit was inside her?

I wrote the warnings. Not the notes.

Adrienne didn’t let herself consider the possibility she’d just run into her dead sister’s spirit in a new body. After minutes of furiously searching her mind for a different explanation, she finally relented and gave the idea a full minute of thought.

It scared her, but it was possible.

Adrienne grabbed a pen from the coffee table. She wrote the woman’s warning on the sticky note.

Help Jax.

Two people thought he’d lost his way, and Adrienne didn’t understand what that meant or what it had to do with her.

Afraid to be alone in her own home, she grabbed her bag and left, too rattled to sit and think in the silent apartment. She didn’t go far, but curled into one of the faded, old chairs in the lobby. The in and out of residents and weekend visitors soon eased her fear and tension. She watched for a while, unable to digest completely what happened.

A strange woman who knew her randomly appeared in her apartment with a message. Then disappeared, after alluding to the idea she might be Therese.

Why didn’t she come out and say so, if she was? Had Adrienne missed her chance to ask her sister directly what was going on? What happened to her?

What if this was the only chance she’d ever get to ask and she blew it?

Distress growing, Adrienne nibbled on her lower lip, staring at the floor a couple feet in front of the chair. She found herself gripping the dog tags for comfort and praying to the family gods that the protective spell was enough to keep away whatever danger people seemed to think was headed her way.

Unable to understand why the woman showed herself now, after leaving anonymous notes for two weeks, Adrienne focused on what she knew. She had to figure out the song from her sister’s journal. Jax, Therese, the curse, the robed man … all were somehow tied to the song encoded in the journal.

Adrienne pulled out the sheaf of papers with trembling hands. She blinked away tears, studying the first page again. She wrote out the notes in the lower margin then paused, frowning. She knew the notes, but a string of notes wouldn’t give her the rhythm required to turn it into a true song.

She gazed at the first line of the journal and began counting the letters and spaces between the circled letters. The rests and slides were there, disguised as more letters and spaces.

She wanted to cry but concentrated instead. She drew an uneven staff and bar lines then began to fill in the notes and their lengths and pauses between.

After ten grueling minutes, she had the first three lines decoded into what resembled a tiny musical score.

She started to hum the tune, coughed loudly then stopped, eyes watering.

She couldn’t sing. No matter how horrible school would be Monday, she had to find Kimmie and ask her to lift the curse. There was no other guaranteed way to get rid of the hex preventing her from singing.

Adrienne stared listlessly into space for a moment. Monday would be the worst day of her life, but Candace was right. If she didn’t go back and try to reason with Kimmie, she’d end up disappearing or dying like her sister. The curse might take the rest of her sisters.

Therese discovered how to stop it through the song. Why didn’t she do it? Was it incomplete, inaccurate or did it not work when she tried?

They were questions she should’ve asked an hour before but didn’t.

Adrienne covered her face with her hands, feeling very alone. She drew a deep breath and pulled out the iPad. She responded to Jayden first.

J-

Thank you so much for today. You’re the only good part of my life right now. I’ll see you at school Monday.

A.

She sent it then systematically deleted all the horrible emails from kids at school. She paused at Emma’s, her guilt making her want to cry again.

Emma,

I’m so sorry I didn’t have lunch with you Friday. I was stupid. If you don’t want to have lunch with me again, I totally understand. If you do, I’ll buy us both salad on Monday.

Adrienne

It didn’t seem like enough, but she didn’t know what else to say to her friend. If she had the money, she’d offer to buy Emma lunch every day for as long as it took to win her back.

If I don’t get my voice back, I can use my album money. Adrienne sighed, not wanting to consider what happened if Kimmie refused and Candace’s tea didn’t work.

“Why you down here?”

She looked up, not noticing Rene’s approach until he stood right in front of her.

She shrugged.

He sat down in the chair beside her, managing to take up the whole space. He hung his arms over the sides of the chair and sat with his knees a part. She envied him for a moment, wishing she was as unapproachable looking as he appeared to be. People were probably afraid to embarrass him in public or break into his apartment to leave mysterious sticky notes. Even the Red Man would be leery of executing the curse.

Residents that had ignored her eyed the muscular thug in baggy clothing seated beside her.

“How did Jax lose his way?” she asked.

“None of your business.”

“It is now.” She slapped the sticky note down on his arm. “Some crazy person broke into my apartment to tell me that.”

Rene caught the note before it fell, glancing up at the tremor in her voice.

“Who broke in?” he asked warily.

“I don’t know. Some woman. There was something … unnatural about her.”

He read the note and passed it back, unaffected. “She’s wrong. You need to keep away from him.”

“So … what? Jax is in trouble?”

He said nothing.

“No, I get it now,” she said, angry and upset. “Jax wants me to go home. Maybe because I remind him too much of Therese. You’re the voodoo warrior gang member who’s supposed to be protecting people like me, except you won’t stand up to your brother. In the meantime, the Red Man is fixin’ to show up in my house and kill me, because of some curse started by people I ain’t never heard of, but who happen to be related to me. I could stop it, but I can’t sing!”

Rene rested his head against the back of the chair, watching her calmly.

“Am I right?” she demanded.

“Not really.”

Rather than anger her further, his words crushed her. Adrienne pushed the things in her lap to the side of the chair and pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. She couldn’t cry. She was too angry.

And scared. The sticky notes appearing hadn’t bothered her, but their delivery by a woman who might’ve been possessed by her dead sister – that was something worth fearing.

“I just want to be normal,” she murmured. “Instead, I’m just waiting for some stupid curse to get me.”

“It’s not that bad.” Rene sounded distracted.

Adrienne twisted her head to see him. “How so?”

“You ain’t dead yet.”

“You are getting on my everlasting nerve, Rene.”

“If you angry, you fine. If you hurt, you alive. Be grateful.”

“I can’t be grateful. I’m scared.”

Rene shifted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was quiet for a long moment.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Do me a favor,” he replied. “Don’t leave your apartment tomorrow.”

“I have to sing …” she stopped, throat tightening. “Never mind. I guess I won’t be singing at the church anytime soon. But I do have to work.”

“Call in sick. Quit. Just don’t leave the house.”

“Why?”

“Something’s not … right,” he said. “I don’t know what. But I know I can figure it out. Work on your sister’s journal.”

Adrienne considered. It did sound like a good idea – staying home to put together the music mystery her sister left. She didn’t have to tell her daddy she was skipping. She’d send him off like she did the past three Sundays, telling him she’d be at church then at the psychic’s. He used Sundays to wrap up any outstanding work from the shop and to do paperwork. He’d yet to come home early, so he’d never know if she stayed home.

“What if … she comes back?” she asked tentatively.

“She won’t.” Rene was firm. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You gonna sit down here all day?”

“No.”

“You are moodier than any woman I’ve ever met.” Puzzled, she sensed his mood was turning from cooperative to stonewalling, like usual. “I’ll stay home tomorrow, if you tell me what’s going on.”

“I will later,” he said gruffly and stood. “Candace walk you home or you just act stupid and walk on your own?”

She said nothing.

“You just asking for it,” he snapped, frustration clear. “I’m going out of town for a couple days. Stay away from Jax and don’t walk anywhere alone. You got it?”

She rolled her eyes and nodded.

Satisfied, Rene left.

Adrienne watched him walk out of the building. People moved out of the thug’s path, and she almost smiled. She wondered why he was so nice to her, if Jax insisted, because of Therese.

She stayed downstairs until her daddy got back from work then joined him in the elevator. He was tired looking today. For his sake, Adrienne put on a smile she didn’t feel.

He didn’t need the added burden of her life issues.

“So, we gonna talk about Candace, Daddy?” she asked, needing a distraction from her worry.

“What about her?” he asked gruffly.

“Like … maybe you can tell me why it’s okay for you do date a black woman and I can’t even study with a black kid from school?” she challenged.

“Black man and white girl.” He shook his head. “Ain’t no excuse for that.”

“Daddy, Jayden’s father is like some sort of genius and he’s rich. He’s smart and sweet and plays football. Football, Daddy. You love football,” she pointed out.

“Every man born south of the Mason-Dixon line loves football, if he wants to call himself a man,” he replied. “Don’t mean I want black football players in my living room.”

“You’re not making sense,” she complained. “Candace is beautiful and nice. It’s not fair!”

“You’re a different kind of girl, Addy,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Almost unnatural like. I don’t know where you get this stuff. Therese never would’ve let no black man in my house.”

Therese was in love with a voodoo-practicing gang member! Adrienne crossed her arms, moping. Her daddy didn’t know anything about Therese. She wondered if anyone actually did. It seemed liked every year her sister only got smarter and sweeter and more religious and better than Adrienne in every way.

Who had Therese really been? She practiced voodoo and dated someone she could never bring home to her daddy. Was she really what others thought she was?

For the first time in her life, Adrienne wished more people knew about Therese’s dark streak and how she’d dabbled in black magic. Maybe the comparisons would stop.

This thought helped ease some of the guilt Adrienne felt at lying to her daddy. Perfect, beautiful Therese had kept secrets, which meant it was okay if Adrienne did, too.

Like seeing Jayden and trying to break the family curse. Her daddy could never understand these things, but she began to think that her long-dead sister could.

We aren’t as different as I thought.

Chapter Eighteen

On the other side of town, Jayden opened his eyes, awaking from a deep sleep. A glance at the clock on his car dashboard revealed it was just past dinnertime.

He rubbed his head, not understanding how he’d just fallen asleep in the parking lot of a gas station. His car was boiling hot, and sweat soaked his clothing and ran down his face. He started the car and rolled down the window, gasping in air. His phone had six texts and three missed calls, one from Mickey, one from his mother and one from Tara.

Where you at? Party starts in an hour. Need ride! Mickey had texted two hours before.

His head felt like it was stuffed with wool. Jayden looked around him, uncertain what he was doing in the city on a Saturday. He came to this gas station sometimes after he left his mother’s, but he didn’t recall seeing his mother today.

What the hell was wrong with him? How did he not know where he spent the day?

He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Mickey to see if he still needed a ride.

Jayden waited for his air conditioner to chill the car’s interior before rolling up the window. His thoughts began to clear without the oppressive heat, and he pulled on his seatbelt.

He drove home, unable to explain his blackout and the missing time. He tried hard to remember what he’d planned to do today without success. By the time he got home, he was troubled but glad that the strange headache was gone.

He parked out back and went in through the kitchen. The windows of his father’s manor glowed warmly, casting cheerful yellow light into the garden. He breathed in the scent of night blooming jasmine deeply, then paused, recognizing a second scent.

Vanilla. It reminded him of something, though he couldn’t quite place what.

Shaking his head, he was upbeat by the time he walked in through the kitchen, the headache forgotten. The family chef was joined by an assistant in the kitchen that smelled richly of homemade bread, barbeque sauce, steamed veggies and some sort of fruit torte.

Jayden’s stomach growled. He waved at the chef and continued through to the staircase leading to the second floor. Tara had texted twice more while he drove home, demanding he return to take her to the party.

He barely reached the top of the stairs when Chelsea let out one of her shrieks of anger. Seconds later, Izzy joined her.

Jayden grimaced, not looking forward to dealing with the twins when they were upset. He covered his ears.

“Stop it!” Tara shouted above their screams. She stormed out of the girls’ playroom, nearly running him over in the process. She was dressed in a slinky party dress, her hair and makeup done and her jewelry on. “Jay! What took you so long! You have any idea what I’ve been dealing with?”

Jayden grated his teeth.

“I’m getting my shoes, and we’re going.” Tara was furious. She punched him in the arm and swept by him. “We’re already late, Jayden!”

“All right,” he said.

The girls’ screams grew louder, and he flinched, some of his headache returning.

There were days when he could handle them and days when he just closed the door and went to his room.

Today was one of those days.

He pulled the door to their playroom closed. It muffled the horrible screeching without silencing it, but it was good enough for now.

Jayden went to his room and closed the door. He glanced down at himself, unsettled to discover he didn’t remember getting dressed this morning or why he was in chinos and a polo instead of jeans, his normal weekend clothing.

Like he’d been trying to impress someone. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember who that was.

His cell rang, and he answered automatically.

“Why you didn’t tell me you’re going to see Grandmama tomorrow?” his mother demanded.

“Hello to you, too, Mama,” he answered, rubbing his eyes.

“You weren’t going to take me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you lie to me, boy. Just because you’re your father’s son, you don’t get to lie to me.”

“Mama, I’m not going to see Grandmama tomorrow. I don’t care what her spirits are telling her,” he said with tried patience.

“No, Jay, she called me and said you’re coming tomorrow and did I want to come, too? And I told her you hadn’t even told me. She said you were coming to talk about the girl whose ear she cut off.”

“Grandmama did what now?” he asked, surprised.

“She cut the ear off that girl you brought out there. What wrong with you, Jay?”

“I didn’t bring any girl out there, except Kimmie,” he replied, baffled to the point of amusement. Where did his grandmama come up with this stuff? “I’d remember if Grandmama cut off Kimmie’s ear.”

“Kimmie ain’t white.”

“Can I call you tomorrow? I’m kind of trying to go somewhere tonight,” he said, rolling his eyes. He kicked off his shoes and went to his closet, stopping in the doorway.

The girls had been in the box of junk his grandmama gave him. He frowned at the cat paw keychain and voodoo good luck charms strung along the floor of his closet.

“You lie to me then want to get rid of me,” his mother complained.

“No, Mama,” he said with a grunt, kneeling to grab the junk on his floor and toss them back into the box at the back of the closet. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Silence then, “You wearing your dog tags, Jay?”

He touched his neck, about to reassure his mother when he realized he wasn’t. Jayden glanced down and tugged shirt away from his chest to see if they’d fallen down and gotten caught somewhere inside.

“Actually, no,” he replied. “Weird. Pretty sure I had them on earlier today.”

“Grandmama told you never to take them off. That’s a family heirloom. What’s wrong with you, Jayden?”

“I’m sure they’re around here somewhere,” he replied. “Look, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

She hung up on him.

Jayden sighed.

His mother was furious at him and babbling nonsense that warned him she might be on drugs again. Grandmama cutting off someone’s ear? Him voluntarily going to visit?

“Crazy,” he muttered. He tossed the last of the weird gifts from his mother’s family into the box.

His gaze lingered on the box, and he recalled the other heirloom he’d been given this week. One he wished he’d never touched, let alone inherited. He wasn’t certain if the girls took anything with them or were just playing in his closet. He hadn’t thought about them finding the key when he tossed it in with the rest of his junk but considered it now. The voodoo stuff – if gross – was harmless.

The key was evil. He wasn’t superstitious, but something with a history like the one it had was nothing short of sickening.

Jayden tugged the box into the direct light and rifled through it.

The key was gone.

He looked through it again then straightened, feeling ill at the thought of the girls playing with the key.

“Jayden!” Tara pounded on his door.

“Jesus, give me a freakin’ break tonight!” he pleaded, glancing up at the ceiling.

Screaming girls, a pissy Tara, a blackout, his mother and grandmama …

He wrenched open his door, fed up. “You mind?” he snapped at Tara, who blocked his way.

Seeing the expression on his face, she closed her mouth and stepped aside.

Jayden stalked to the playroom, where the girls were taking turns screaming. He walked in, and they stopped briefly, facing the door to see who it was.

“Stop!” he ordered when Chelsea took a huge breath. “Were you guys in my closet?”

Silence.

“Let me rephrase. I know you were,” he said and approached them.

Their playroom was a disaster, with toys and stuffed animals scattered across the floor. He searched it visually for the key.

“Did you take anything out of my room?” he asked sternly, folding his arms across his chest.

“No, Jayden,” Chelsea answered in a small voice.

“No, Jayden,” Izzy echoed.

“So if I search your playroom, I won’t find anything that belongs to me?”

“No,” they chorused.

Jayden saw Chelsea trying to be discreet about hiding something under her shirt. He always found it funny how hard they tried not to get caught and how obvious they were. Was he like that as a child?

He couldn’t smile, though, not when he was playing the daddy role.

“Okay show me your hands,” he directed.

“Jaaaaaaydeeeeen!” Chelsea whined, an indirect admission of guilt.

“Now. Both of you.”

Izzy looked at Chelsea, waiting for the leader of the small gang to go first.

Chelsea stuck out her lower lip in a pout but held out her hands. A black, fuzzy cat paw keychain was in her hands.

Jayden plucked it free. “You’re turn, Izzy.”

His sister held out one hand. It was empty.

“Izzy, don’t be stubborn,” he told her.

She held out her second hand. In it was the skeleton key.

Jayden didn’t expect the sight of his sweet little sister holding a dark piece from history to scare him the way it did. His thoughts raced back to the story his dad had told him. He couldn’t imagine the amount of lost or enslaved lives the key saw during the generations it sealed away people to horrible fates.

“Izzy,” he said, taking his sister’s shoulders. “Don’t you ever, ever, play with this again. Do you understand me?”

He didn’t realize how harsh his words were, until her eyes watered. Instantly, he felt guilty for scaring her. Jayden released her and took the key. The heaviness and coldness of the metal distressed him.

Chelsea was staring at him uncertainly, and Tara was silent.

“I’m sorry, Izzy,” he said, forcing himself to calm down. “This is just a very bad toy. Okay? No playing with it.”

Izzy nodded, as did Chelsea.

Jayden sensed his short rant had hurt the feelings of everyone in the playroom. He pocketed the key and left, wanting to hide it where Izzy would never find it again.

He pushed the door to his room open and went to the dresser.

“What the hell was that?” Tara asked from his doorway.

He gave her a harried glance. Jayden peeled off his polo and tossed it into the hamper.

“You always jump all over me for raising my voice with them and you yelled at them like you were crazy or something, Jayden.”

“I know. I don’t know what got into me.” He reached for the key and stared at it briefly before putting it in the top drawer of his dresser, outside the reach of the twins.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“You just screamed at everyone over it and it’s nothing?”

He sighed. “It’s a long story, Tara.”

“We’re already two hours later.” She crossed her arms. “I want to know what made you freak out.”

Jayden hesitated. His father claimed he’d tell Tara eventually. Jayden didn’t want to discuss the dark family legacy, but his guilt – combined with Tara’s angry look – made him reconsider. He pulled the key out of his drawer and tossed it to her.

Tara caught it, studying it.

Jayden pulled a clean t-shirt out of the dresser and tugged it on.

“What does it go to?” Tara asked.

“Slave chains.”

“Seriously?”

“I guess it’s your history, too, since Daddy adopted you. Apparently, my ancestors sold whole villages into slavery. That key went to the chains that locked up the first slave.” He paused once more then told her the tale his father told him, down to the bizarre curse. Jayden shook his head ruefully when he got to that part.

Tara listened in rapt attention, quiet for a few moments after he finished.

Jayden waited for her reaction.

She fiddled with the key then tossed it back. “Okay. I get why you were upset. I don’t blame you.”

“Kinda makes me sick to look at it,” he said. He tucked it back into the drawer. “I’m sorry I went crazy. When I saw it in Izzy’s hands, all I could think about was a little girl like her being put in chains.”

“I understand.” Tara was unusually quiet. “I’ll make sure they don’t get a hold of it again, either. Something like that should be destroyed.”

“It wouldn’t make my past any less true,” he pointed out. “Daddy said it’s a reminder for me to do what’s right and to try to make amends for what my ancestors did to my people.”

“Jay, that’s an insane amount of pressure,” Tara objected. “You didn’t do those things.”

“I get that. No offense, Tara, but it’s different for you,” he said gently.

“Because I’m white.”

“Yeah. You’ve got less to prove.”

“You’re still a rebel where it counts.” She smiled at him. “So I take it you didn’t bring up Adrienne.”

“Who?”

She laughed then stopped, brow furrowed.

“Oh, hey, can you see if Izzy has my dog tags, too?” he asked, patting the place on his chest where they should be. “I gotta finish getting ready.”

“Yeah, sure. Did you ask Adrienne to come tonight?”

“I have no idea who Adrienne is,” he said curiously. “One of your friends?”

Tara didn’t seem to know how to respond.

“I’m meeting Kimmie and Mickey tonight. Like usual,” he added. He walked into his closet once more, this time to grab jeans.

“Kimmie?”

“I thought I was bad with names,” he teased. “I’ve only been dating her for like, two years.”

“I thought you broke up.”

“What? No. She’s beautiful. Smart, nice. Daddy approves of her,” he added, rolling his eyes.

“Is that why you’re dating her? Because your daddy wants you to?” Tara sounded angry.

What is with all these women tonight? There were days he thought he was cursed and days he knew he was.

“No, Tara. I’ve been in love with her since third grade.” He sighed. “Can you go get my dog tags?”

There was a moment of silence. She didn’t answer but slammed his door on the way out.

Who on earth was Adrienne? Someone Tara was trying to hook him up with?

Jayden changed clothes then checked his emails to find the address for the party. Oddly enough, an email from an Adrienne St. Croix was waiting for him. He opened it.

J-

Thank you so much for today. You’re the only good part of my life right now. I’ll see you at school Monday.

A.

He read it twice. He didn’t know any Adrienne, and certainly wouldn’t spend the day with anyone but Kimmie. Was Tara pranking him?

The email seemed too personal, genuine. He felt the emotion behind it. Tara wasn’t that convincing when she tried to lie. He doubted her friends were capable of much more. If anything, the email was probably sent to him by mistake.

Still, the note disturbed him, maybe because he wasn’t able to remember what exactly he did today.

Hitting the reply button, he typed a response.

Hi Adrienne,

I think you sent this to the wrong “J.” Glad you had a nice day.

Jayden

Feeling as though he’d done one nice thing in his odd day, he pulled on comfortable shoes and left his closet.

Tara was standing outside his door once more. He eyed her, not understanding the inquisitive expression on her face. She wasn’t happy with him. He had no idea why, beyond his outburst at Izzy.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yep.” She spun and strode down the hallway.

It’s going to be a long night.

Jayden followed her out of the house to the car. He drove them away from their father’s opulent housing development south.

Tara didn’t speak the entire way. It wasn’t like her at all to keep quiet.

Jayden didn’t press her. He’d managed to piss off every woman he crossed paths with today. He wasn’t going to hang himself again.

His sister’s silence disturbed him on some level. The longer it lasted, the more concerned he became. He held off on addressing it, though, until they pulled into the driveway of the house party.

“You all right?” he ventured.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

Tara glared at him.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said. “I’m always here, if you want to talk.”

“You’re an absolute dick, Jayden.”

Startled by her words, he focused on parking before turning to her.

Tara didn’t wait for him to talk but opened the car door and got out, slamming it shut.

He winced. Maybe I don’t want to remember what I did today.

He got out of the car, intent on finding the one woman who could always brighten his day.

Jayden waded into the party. The scent of alcohol was thick in the air, and music pounded loudly. The furniture of the living room had been pushed aside to create a dance floor while other students huddled in small groups, drinking and laughing.

“Hey! Nice win last night!” someone called to him.

Jayden stopped to greet and slap hands with the members of the football team. He recalled their insane win the night before and began to relax. Someone thrust a plastic cup of beer in his hand, and he sipped as he walked.

His eyes took in the crowd, but he didn’t see the face he sought. He walked through the kitchen and grabbed a handful of pretzels then continued out back, where a bonfire blazed and more students were gathered.

At long last, he saw Kimmie. She appeared to be arguing with another member of the football team. Every time he saw her, it was like the first time. Her natural, graceful beauty and willowy body made him burn for her with inhuman need. Her scent, the feel of her soft skin … the anticipation was killing him.

He crossed the backyard to her. “Everything okay?” he asked casually, glancing at the football player named Deon.

“Awesome,” Deon snapped. “You were right to dump this bitch, Jay. She’s psycho.” He strode away, furious.

Dump? A strange emotion went through Jayden, one that made him uneasy. First Tara, now Deon.

“Hey, baby, you okay?” he asked, approaching Kimmie.

“Baby?” she echoed, hands on her hips.

“I missed you.” Jayden wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her scent deeply.

“What’re you doing, Jayden?” she demanded. She pushed him back.

“Hugging the most beautiful girl on the planet.” He grinned.

Kimmie studied him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “This has been one weird day. Don’t you go weird on me, too.”

She touched his chest. “What happened to your dog tags?”

“I think Izzy hid them. She does that sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “What? No kiss?”

A slow smile spread across Kimmie’s face. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to hers.

“I missed you, too,” she whispered.

“I can’t get enough of you. I want all of you. Every day. Every night.”

“I brought protection in case … you know.”

“God, yeah.” Jayden’s blood surged in response. “I need you, Kimmie.”

“I know, Jayden. I know.”

He closed his eyes and kissed her. With his Kimmie in his arms, his body relaxed and the stress of his day disappeared.

This is how it should be, he thought, content.

Chapter Nineteen

Adrienne’s Sunday passed fast and uneventfully. No more zombies showed up in her apartment, and she was able to make it through half the journal before her daddy came home. She barely slept that night, apprehensive about showing her face at school the next morning. She asked the gods and spirits to magically send her back to Atlanta without success and awoke with dread heavy in her stomach.

When she made it to campus, her heart began to pound, and her palms grew sweaty. Adrienne felt ill with worry by the time she walked through the hallway towards her first class. She hadn’t seen Jayden yet and had told Christie she needed to rest her voice after Friday’s assembly.

Christie seemed sympathetic, no doubt buying the excuse that Adrienne had a throat injury. Anyone who heard her coughing would believe it.

I hate my life! She thought, recalling the worst day of her life clearly.

“Swamp Girl!” More than one student called to her then burst into laughter or exaggerated hacking while others whispered and giggled when she passed them.

She did her best to ignore them, though the words hurt. Every part of her being wanted her to run, but she’d vowed to be strong and pretended sometimes to be Jayden, who was too easygoing to be affected by the opinions of others, and sometimes that she was Rene, who was tough enough to beat the daylights out of anyone who crossed his path.

Right now, she wished she really was Rene. She’d drag Kimmie out of class and beat her until she reversed the curse.

Adrienne was miserable by the time she reached her locker. She opened it and leaned in as far as she could, imagining she was an ostrich with her head in the sand. She sighed. Classes hadn’t even started, and she was agitated from the walk down the hall.

Assuming her scholarship would be gone before the week was over, she hadn’t even done her homework yesterday, instead concentrating on the song hidden in the journal. Adrienne pulled out the notebook she was using to write the music. She’d taken pictures of the pages she hadn’t gotten to the day before with her iPad with the intent of losing herself in the notes and musical staff during classes.

“Hey, Addy.”

She groaned internally. It wasn’t Emma voice, which meant someone was coming to personally ridicule her. Steeling herself, Adrienne pushed the locker door closed enough to see who stood beside it.

Tara was there, looking more perfect and doll-like in the school-issued uniform than Addy ever would.

“You, um, want me to walk to class with you?” Tara asked.

Adrienne shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“Omigod, don’t act like the twins. I’m walking you to class.”

She almost objected but saw the determined look on Tara’s face. Unable to determine why Tara wanted to walk with the least popular kid in school, Adrienne sighed and closed her locker. No doubt, there was something else humiliating in store for her from the horrible cheer squad.

With Tara beside her, the mockery and snickering were less frequent. Students focused on the beautiful brunette rather than Adrienne, and for once, Adrienne was glad to go unnoticed.

“So, uh, I wanted to ask you something,” Tara started, leading them down a second hallway with no lockers and few students.

“Okay.” Adrienne braced herself.

“This voodoo stuff. It can make people … do things, right?”

Adrienne stopped and faced her. “Why?”

Tara didn’t look like she sought some magic spell to use for vindictive reasons. If anything, she appeared troubled.

“How do you know if someone is under a curse?” she asked, ignoring Adrienne’s question.

“Their behavior could change suddenly, or like me. I suddenly lost a skill I’d had since I was young. If I lost my voice, it might make sense, but I lost the ability to sing, not talk.”

“So anyone can buy one of these spells, like even for bad reasons?”

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re asking first,” Adrienne said.

Tara shrugged. “I just need to know.”

Adrienne debated not answering, afraid the girl meant to hurt someone by buying a spell from a bokor.

“People can buy spells from a priestess or priest. Those who sell them are called bokors, and they can sell good magic or black magic. Some don’t care and sell whatever makes them the most money while others just create healing and protective spells. People who buy spells to hurt others are likely to be punished by the gods, three times over whatever harm they caused,” Adrienne explained.

“So Kimmie taking your voice means something three times worse will happen to her?” Tara asked.

“Yeah, at the discretion of the spirits, of course.”

“This is bizarre. I can’t believe I’m talking about this, like it’s real.”

“It is real.”

“You can buy any kind of spell? Like zombies or love spells or whatever?”

“Yep,” Adrienne said, crossing her arms. “You aren’t thinking of buying one, are you?”

“No. Let’s say someone bought a curse and put it on someone. How do you lift it?”

“The easiest way,” Adrienne sighed. “You ask the person who put it on you to lift it. If that’s not an option, then you go to a mambos and ask for her help healing you.”

Tara was quiet, thoughtful.

“It’s the only reason I’m at school today,” Adrienne added sadly. “I have to find Kimmie. I need to ask her to lift the hex she put on me.”

“Interesting.” Tara wasn’t paying attention.

Rolling her eyes, Adrienne started walking again.

“Wait. Can I ask you one more thing?” Tara asked, catching up to her.

“Why not.”

“Do you have Rene’s phone number?”

Adrienne turned, astonished.

Tara smiled. “I just want to thank him for rescuing me.”

Seriously? Rene gets a date out of this and I can’t show myself at school?

The warning bell sounded.

“You can email it to me,” Tara told her. “If you have time after school today, could we talk again?”

“No. I’ve got to catch the bus,” Adrienne replied, stalking away. Was everyone at this school selfish and stupid?

She went to her first class and hurried to the back of the room before the other students filed in. A few glanced her way, and the two members of the cheer squad whispered and snickered, looking at her frequently.

Adrienne wanted to crawl away and hide in her locker. Instead, she tuned out everything around her and focused on decoding the journal. She flipped open her iPad only to see more horrible emails had started to trickle in.

An email from Emma caught her attention.

Adrienne,

We are still friends. I understand. Kimmie embarrasses me all the time. We can have salads today.

Your friend,

Emma

The simple message made Adrienne’s eyes mist over. How did sweet Emma bear through Kimmie’s bullying? Adrienne said a short prayer for her friend, thanking the spirits and the Christian and voodoo gods for sending someone like Emma into her life, especially now, when there really wasn’t anyone else she’d consider a friend.

Except maybe Jayden, if he spoke to her today.

Focused on the journal, Adrienne didn’t notice the class flying by. The bell rang, startling her. She put her things away hastily, wanting to make it to the next class fast enough to grab a seat in back.

As she walked through the hallways, she looked for Jayden or Kimmie, hoping she was able to run into both of them today at some point, yet dreading the interactions as well. Jayden ignoring her or laughing at her would crush her, and Kimmie would be horrible to deal with.

Adrienne grabbed the last seat in the back of her second class and checked her email. She hesitated before opening Tara’s email, afraid Jayden’s stepsister would be making fun of her like the rest. It was short.

Addy,

I’m serious – let’s hang out after school. We can get ice cream. I really do want Rene’s number.

Tara

Adrienne mumbled to herself. “You can have any guy at school. Leave Rene alone.”

What did Tara really want from her? Adrienne had sensed worry when they discussed curses. Had Kimmie hexed her, too?

Her daddy’s email popped up. Adrienne glanced up at the instructor then checked it, expecting it to be another brief note about how he was working late.

Addy,

They found her in our dumpster. I done called a realtor about moving. Not safe for you there.

Daddy

He included a link. Curious, Adrienne clicked on it and read the article about the latest victim of the elusive serial killer that had stalked the slums for almost five years. The cops claimed it was drug-related, though the press was openly disputing the claim, saying it was the serial killer that had been in the Projects for years.

Okay, no more alleys for me, Adrienne thought, reading the article. It was creepy to think about something this awful happening so close. She felt bad for the woman and lucky she had Rene to protect her.

Adrienne scrolled to the bottom of the article, her breath sticking in her throat.

The picture of the victim was the woman who came to visit her Saturday.

She re-read the article. The body was found Saturday evening when one of the residents of the apartment building took out the trash, with the police saying her time of death was a little after four, around the time Adrienne saw her.

Adrienne’s mind worked quickly, but she couldn’t piece together what might’ve happened. The woman had seemed possessed when she appeared in Adrienne’s apartment. What was the connection to her sister? Had this woman known Therese and been entrusted with the message?

She went through her sent box to find Candace’s email address and forwarded her daddy’s note to Candace with a note about how she’d seen the woman soon before the police said she’d been killed. Enthralled by the new mystery surrounding her sister, Adrienne sat in deep thought for her second class, trying to determine what might’ve happened. Had the possessed woman wandered into the alley after visiting Adrienne and been killed? In broad daylight?

Nothing made sense.

Tara emailed again, along with a few more students with the subject lines of Swamp Girl.

Adrienne deleted the other students’ emails then closed her inbox, not wanting to deal with the high maintenance sister of Jayden when she had something far more important on her mind.

She didn’t fit in. She never would. She needed to find Kimmie. Once she did, she could leave this place.

When the bell chimed to mark the end of her second class, she bolted from the room, desperate to fix one mess in her life. She couldn’t help the woman who died in the alley, but she might be able to address the curse.

Adrienne went to the hallway where Kimmie’s locker was, hoping Kimmie dropped by her locker before her next class. Turning the corner, Adrienne slowed. At first, she was embarrassed at the sight of the couple in the middle of a heavy make out session. They seemed oblivious to the kids filling the hallway, caught up in kissing and petting. Kimmie was pressed up against the lockers, her arms around the neck of a tall, familiar form.

“Jayden?” Adrienne uttered his name before she was able to stop herself.

“Get a room!” someone called.

Jayden flung his head back and laughed, stepping back. “Sorry, babe. You do that to me.”

Adrienne couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She felt as if someone had hit her.

“You know I love it,” Kimmie purred, glowing happily. She smoothed Jayden’s vest and ran her hands down his chest to his belt. She tugged at it. “Later. Promise.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” replied Jayden in his low, husky voice.

“Jay, c’mon!” Mickey shouted from the hallway behind Adrienne.

Jayden ducked his head to kiss Kimmie lightly, appearing as enamored as Kimmie. Adrienne had seen that smile directed at her before. It was breathtaking, even now, when her heart was shattering.

He hadn’t been serious about her at all. Not about being sorry for hurting her or the second chance. Were the dog tags even real? She gripped them, the cool metal biting into her skin and keeping her anchored in the surreal world.

Adrienne moved behind a group of students, watching Jayden walk cheerfully past her. He didn’t notice her, and she released her breath when he passed. He bumped fists with Mickey, grinning.

Adrienne hurt. Only when he disappeared from view did she realize she was drawing more looks than usual. Frozen with her mouth agape, she didn’t want to know how stupid she appeared. She forced herself to push away her hurt and focused on her task: asking Kimmie to lift the spell.

It was the only reason she had to be here.

“Kimmie,” she said, approaching.

Kimmie glanced up then back, her gaze critical as it swept over Adrienne.

“What? You couldn’t wash your uniform?” Kimmie asked with a snort.

Adrienne ignored her. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“You’re off the team. Sent you an email.”

“It’s not about that.”

“What?”

Adrienne realized she was still holding onto the dog tags. She dropped her hand and drew a deep breath.

“I’d like for you to release the hex you put on me,” Adrienne said quietly. “You made your point Friday.”

Kimmie didn’t respond for a moment, gaze on Adrienne’s chest.

Adrienne glanced down at the dog tags.

“Where did you get those?” Kimmie asked.

“None of your business. I came to talk to you about the curse.”

“Did you steal those from Jayden?”

“Steal? No. Look, Kimmie, can you just –“

“Those don’t belong to you.” Kimmie reached for the tags.

Adrienne slapped her hand away, anger growing. “They were a gift.”

“Jay would never …” Kimmie stopped, her face flushing. She stretched for the necklace again.

Adrienne shoved her this time and then tucked the tags into her shirt.

Kimmie’s gaze flew up to hers. “Give me the tags, and I’ll lift the curse.”

Surprised, Adrienne hesitated. What did Kimmie want with Jayden’s dog tags?

“They don’t belong to someone like you.”

The tags had no value and weren’t exactly fashionable, like the jewelry Kimmie wore. Adrienne couldn’t see the bitchy girl wearing them. Why did she want them, if not to wear them?

Jayden claimed there was a protective spell on them.

“You know what these are, don’t you?” Adrienne asked, frowning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. As far as I’m concerned, you stole something of Jayden’s, and I intend to get it back!”

“These tags have a protective spell on them. Which means you can’t drop another curse on me,” Adrienne said. “Is that it? You want to do something even worse to me?”

“You’ll be out of the school in a week. The curse I put on your voice will take it away. Forever!” Kimmie snapped. “No, I won’t lift it, unless you give me those tags.”

The deal sounded appealing, especially after seeing Jayden betray her. Adrienne’s instincts were at a roar. She didn’t understand why, but she knew she couldn’t give Kimmie the necklace.

“You realize every curse you put on someone comes back on you threefold, don’t you?” Adrienne asked. “What you did to me will be kind compared to what will happen to you.”

Emotion rippled across Kimmie’s face.

“Your bokor didn’t tell you,” Adrienne guessed. “It’s how black magic works. If you ask a favor of the gods and use their magic to hurt someone, you will pay a price three times what you did to another.”

“No. You’re just trying to manipulate me.” Kimmie snatched something from her locker and slammed it. “It won’t work! I’m not giving you your voice back, Swamp Girl, and I’m never letting go of Jayden!” She brushed by Adrienne.

Adrienne turned to watch her.

More snickering and calls of “Swamp Girl” went up around her.

Any remaining hope she possessed fled, and tears filled her eyes. Her emotions exploded.

She ran, this time with the intention of never going back.

“Adrienne!”

Wanting nothing to do with anyone at the school, Adrienne ignored Tara and kept running. She didn’t stop until she reached the edge of campus then bent over, gasping.

“Jesus, you’re … fast!” Tara said, stopping beside her. “You ever run track?”

Adrienne shook her head and straightened. She wiped away the tears on her cheeks. She wanted to run more but couldn’t catch her breath. Every time she thought of Jayden, she wanted to cry and could barely breathe, because her chest was so tight.

“What do you want?” she demanded, facing Tara. “I’m not coming back, so if you want to call me Swamp Girl or –”

“No, no,” Tara said, rolling her eyes. She straightened out her clothing and touched her eyes delicately to fix her makeup. “Alright. Where are we going?”

“We? Nowhere!” Adrienne whirled and began walking. “I’m going back to Atlanta.”

“Did you even read my email?”

“No.”

“Omigod. What is wrong with everyone?” Tara complained. “I marked it urgent.”

“I really don’t care.”

“I’m trying to help Jayden.”

“He can go to hell!”

“You’re acting like my eight year old sisters. Just … wait a minute, Addy.” Tara took her arm to stop her.

Adrienne pulled away but didn’t move. “What?”

“If you’d read the email” Tara started “you wouldn’t have freaked out. I asked you about the curse stuff because I think Kimmie did something to Jay. He asked me Friday to watch out for you, which I totally failed at. When I talked to him yesterday, he had no idea who you were and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty Kimmie is.”

Adrienne listened suspiciously, uncertain if she could trust anyone at the school ever again.

“I thought it was weird. But what you said this morning makes sense. Kimmie cursed you then she did something to Jayden to make him fall in love with her,” Tara continued. “Right? I mean, it’s possible?”

“Possible, yes,” Adrienne allowed.

“He wouldn’t give you hundred year old dog tags if he didn’t like you,” Tara pointed out, eyes on the necklace on Adrienne’s chest. “I know he liked you, Addy. Even if he didn’t, he doesn’t even know who you are. Like even your name. It’s unnatural.”

Adrienne thought for a moment, not wanting to agree with Tara. She was hurting. She wanted to be angry enough to pack her things and go back to New Orleans, to leave the mysteries of her sister and the dead woman behind her.

To leave Jayden and how beautiful he made her feel behind her.

“So what do you want from me?” Adrienne asked.

“I want you to help me fix him. I mean, he’s totally not helping me with our sisters. He blew off their soccer game yesterday to hang out with Kimmie and didn’t even help me get them to bed. He’s talking about going out with Kimmie every day this week and of course to Homecoming. I mean, I kinda have a life, too. I can’t –”

“Homecoming?” Adrienne echoed. “He’s standing up Emma?”

“That was real?”

Adrienne let out an exasperated sigh and began walking.

“Wow. Then yes, he’s going to stand up Emma,” Tara said, joining her.

Adrienne glanced at the gorgeous girl, wishing she’d take the hint and leave her alone with her misery.

“Since you have uh, superstitious roots, I thought you could help me with Jay,” Tara said.

“Why should I? Y’all have made my life a living hell!”

“Because you like him.”

“Not anymore.”

“Whatever. I know he’s head over heels for you. You know our daddy forbade either of us from dating someone of a lower … socioeconomic status?” Tara asked. “I learned that word this week. Did I use it right?”

“He wasn’t supposed to date me because I’m poor?”

“Good. I did use it right.”

Adrienne rolled her eyes at Tara’s pleased tone.

“So you’ll help me.”

She hesitated, wanting to believe Jayden did care for her but terrified after this morning. What other surprises were in store for her? More dead women in the dumpster? More curses from Kimmie?

She said nothing for a long moment, not expecting Tara to walk with her into downtown New Orleans. Her thoughts calmed, and she was able to sort through some of her feelings.

Tara was right. Jayden wouldn’t give his family heirloom to someone he didn’t remotely care about, let alone didn’t remember two days later. The email she thought had been teasing – if odd – that he sent yesterday made more sense in the light Tara shed on it.

Maybe Kimmie wanted the dog tags for a different reason. If she knew there was a protective spell on them, did she want to make sure Jayden didn’t get them back?

Or was she simply jealous?

Adrienne still felt pain at what she’d seen in the hallway, but it lessened a little at the possible explanation for why Jayden was kissing Kimmie, and she even felt a trickle of triumph at the idea of making Kimmie jealous.

I’m still not staying here, she vowed to herself.

“Where are we going?” Tara asked.

Adrienne debated. “To see a friend,” she said reluctantly. “The voodoo priestess who’s trying to help me with Kimmie’s curse. Maybe she can help Jayden, too.”

“Sweet.”

Adrienne wanted to despise Tara for wanting to help Jayden so she didn’t have to babysit, but she wasn’t able to condemn the girl who ditched school to find a cure for her brother’s hex. Tara was selfish but there was a part of her that was good, or she wouldn’t be talking to her.

“Will Rene be there?” Tara asked.

“Maybe. I dunno,” Adrienne replied. “He kind of does his own thing.”

Tara was quiet.

Adrienne led them through the streets to her neighborhood. At mid-morning, she doubted even Rene could find a reason to yell at her for walking. The streets were filled with people going to and from work, not serial killers and gang members.

Her thoughts went again to the body found in her alley. While Tara’s presence wasn’t exactly welcome, they were at least headed to the place where Adrienne most needed to go.

An hour and a half after leaving the school grounds, they reached Candace’s shop.

“Coffee!” Tara brightened. “Thank god!” She walked to the counter behind which a barista stood.

Adrienne went to Candace, who sat behind the cash register.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Candace asked, studying her.

“I’m never going back,” Adrienne said firmly. “I sent you a link.”

“I saw it.” Candace glanced at Tara. “Who’s this?”

“Tara. Someone who needs help because her brother is hexed.” Adrienne didn’t mention Jayden being the boy she was interested in. “Same girl who cursed me cursed him. I thought maybe you can help.”

“Of course. Come on back,” Candace said and motioned her around the counter.

“Tara, c’mon,” Adrienne called.

Tara grabbed a small handful of sugar packets and a stir stick then followed with her coffee.

Adrienne took her normal seat while Tara gazed around the sacred room curiously.

“This is Tara. Tara, Candace,” Adrienne said. She slumped, tired from her morning and feeling as empty as the bottle of soda on Candace’s table.

The two began talking, and Adrienne tuned them out. She pulled her notebook and iPad free, but ignored the growing number of email alerts awaiting her. Instead, she focused again on her sister’s journal. When Tara was done, Adrienne would talk to Candace privately about the woman in the alley.

Chapter Twenty

“Adrienne.” Candace interrupted her concentration sometime later.

She looked up.

“Tara just told me something really interesting. Were you listening?” Candace asked.

“Nope.”

“Go ahead, Tara.”

Adrienne waited for the pretty girl with dark eyes to speak. Tara smiled at Candace before turning to Adrienne.

“The twins dragged out a box from Jay’s closet and were playing with this key. I guess they were trying to find a treasure chest it fit into or whatever kids do,” Tara began. “Jay freaked. I mean, totally. He’s normally never like that, but he actually yelled at them. They both started crying and I confronted him about it. It was awful. Anyways, I asked him what the hell he was thinking, scaring the girls like that.”

Adrienne listened critically, not seeing what the story had to do with her. She glanced at Candace, whose patient smile was a silent sign of encouragement.

“He told me this strange story about the key. I guess Daddy gave it to him. It belonged to one of their ancestors, who used to sell slaves to the New World and who ended up cursed because of how he betrayed everyone he knew just so he could make like, millions of dollars. The key is a reminder to Daddy’s family of the curse, which I guess was supposed to kill the firstborns in Daddy’s family up until Jayden, who was immune because he was born outside the curse. Something about ninety-nine.”

“Ninety nine firstborns. Like my family,” Adrienne said, surprised. “My sister was supposed to be ninety-nine.” Her mind raced. “Candace, is it true? Is Jayden from the family of the man who bought the curse from mine?”

“It sounds too familiar not to be possible,” Candace said. “I can’t say for certain, but I can ask the spirits to enlighten me. Even if we can’t determine for sure, we can ask Jayden to help us. If he’s not the descendent of the same curse, no loss.”

Adrienne shook her head. “Not until we can do something about Kimmie brainwashing him. Tara said he didn’t remember me, and I saw him making out with Kimmie today.” She cleared her throat, embarrassed by the tears that sprang up at the memory. “But even if he was back to normal, he doesn’t believe in voodoo.”

Candace was quiet. Adrienne forced herself to focus on Tara’s story and not her pain.

“What are you thinking, Candace? That he can help us break the curse?” she asked, touching the dog tags at her neck.

Before Candace could answer, the vision she’d seen in the car – that of the two girls playing with the key – hit her. Tara’s words clicked. The two girls were Jayden’s sisters.

“Candace! Do you think the curse is attached to the key? Like how you can put protective spells on things and then give them to someone to keep with them?”

“Possible. I would need to see the key.”

They both looked at Tara.

She shrugged. “Okay. If you think it might help. Can I bring Jayden in, too, so you can fix him?”

“There is no overnight cure for a curse, Tara,” Candace said gently. “But if you can get him here, then it will definitely help.”

Adrienne listened to them talk, mind on Jayden. What were the chances the two of them were descendants of the same curse? Was this why she felt the instant connection to him, or was it simply hormones, as her daddy would say?

The idea Kimmie was robbing Jayden of his ability to think for himself infuriated her. Kimmie couldn’t know the damage she was doing by forcing Jayden to make decisions he wouldn’t normally make. She didn’t understand what the price was for her actions, either.

But Jayden’s cards from Saturday made sense. He fell recklessly in love with someone he shouldn’t have. She took some comfort in knowing there was hope in his future.

Eyes drifting to the iPad and the page of her sister’s journal she’d pulled up, Adrienne felt suddenly anxious to decipher the rest of the music. How long did she have until the Red Man came for her? How long to help Jayden and how long to regain her voice? What if she missed her chance to help Jax and her sister, if it were even possible?

The anger boiling within her turned to fury and desperation.

“It’s not fair!” she shouted, standing.

Candace and Tara both jumped.

“Kimmie is ruining everything!”

“Calm, child,” Candace said. “We’ll –”

“No! It could take weeks, months, to fix my voice and give Jayden his willpower back, if it’s even possible! It’s not good enough, Candace. We have to do more.”

“More? Like what?” Tara asked.

“Like I want to buy a hex to put on Kimmie, to force her to do what I tell her.”

“No, Adrienne. You don’t fight black magic with black magic. It will only cause you great grief,” Candace said.

“So, what? I wait for the Red Man to track me down and kill me when I know I have a chance to break the curse? Jayden ends up with someone he doesn’t like?” Adrienne paced.

“Tara will bring in the key. I can talk to Kimmie, if need be,” Candace urged. “Have faith, Adrienne.”

“I don’t have time for faith, Candace!” Adrienne snapped. “I can buy whatever I need. If you won’t sell it to me, I’ll find someone who will!”

Candace’s frown deepened. “Think this through, Addy. You inherited a curse from the actions of your ancestors. Would you risk doing the same to your family?”

Adrienne blew out a breath. “What if I never get my voice back?”

“We don’t know that.”

It’s not your life at risk! Adrienne kept the words to herself, doubting Candace could understand. By the mambos’ compassionate look, she wasn’t going to budge.

Adrienne grabbed her iPad and shoved it and her notebook away.

“I’m not going to let Kimmie ruin my life and Jayden’s,” she said and slung her bag over her shoulder. After a moment of thought, she yanked off the dog tags and slapped them on the table in front of Tara. “Take these. Maybe they’ll keep Kimmie’s curse from getting worse. I’ll find someone else to help us.” She pushed aside the curtain separating the shrine room from the front of the store and marched out.

“Adrienne, wait!” Candace called.

Adrienne ignored her. She hurried outside and paused, glancing both ways.

At home, she’d wouldn’t know where to get such a spell. Here, she just needed to find a legit bokor and not one of the tourist traps.

She wanted to scream out of frustration. Worry made her breath short, and she struggled to think clearly. There didn’t seem to be much of a choice now. She had to stop Kimmie. If it was only her life to consider, she might be willing to listen to Candace.

But not Jayden. The idea of Kimmie taking away the only guy ever interested in her, who was perfect in every way Adrienne could imagine, made her sick.

It wasn’t right for one person to ruin so many lives.

She was gritting her teeth hard enough to cause a headache. Adrienne rubbed her temples then picked a direction. She made it to the end of the block before she heard someone new call her name.

“Adrienne.”

She suspected Rene had hunted her down. She turned, not expecting to see Jax a few feet behind her. He moved too quietly for her to hear him approach. Today, he wore a t-shirt that displayed the tattoos running down his roped forearms. He wore no mask, though the creepy skeleton was drawn on his face with Halloween makeup.

“You look like Baron Samedi,” she murmured.

“It’s how I show my respect for him,” he said. “Where you going?”

“I know. Don’t walk alone,” she said, irritated. “But it’s broad daylight. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Your daddy’s apartment is that way.” He turned and lifted his chin towards the opposite direction she was headed.

Adrienne crossed her arms. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

The lean gang leader approached her, pausing less than a foot away. Adrienne tilted her head back to meet his blue-green gaze. There was an odd, predatory gleam in his eyes that made her wish Rene was there.

“You really wanna play this game with me?” he asked softly. “These are my streets, Adrienne. No one crosses me on my streets.”

“I’m not …” she drifted off then swallowed her anger.

Help Jax.

She began to doubt the latest piece of advice from her long-dead sister. Jax seemed completely in control, not the kind of man who needed help.

“I need to find a bokor,” she answered him.

“Why?”

“Um, there’s a girl at school bothering me.” She dropped her gaze to his chest as she spoke, uncertain why her instincts didn’t like the idea of telling him it had to do with the curse.

Jax was silent, still, long enough for her to doubt he believed her. She didn’t look up, instead studying his lean frame. Her sister had fallen in love with this man. The gentlest person on earth, how had Therese managed to tame someone who seemed so … hard? Cold?

“That’s my sister,” she said, eyes lingering on one tattoo on his arm. “She was happy with you.”

His tension was scaring her.

Adrienne withdrew the picture Rene gave her.

Jax took it. The sight of Therese had an instant effect. He took a deep breath and shook out his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We were happy together.”

Sensing his dangerous mood had passed, Adrienne stepped away until she was comfortable with the distance between them.

“You need a bokor,” Jax repeated, eyes on the picture. “C’mon. I’ll take you.” He pocketed the picture and started away.

Adrienne watched him, wanting to run, but suspecting he could find her, wherever she went, as long as she was in his territory.

Now would be a good time to show up, Rene, she said silently, dwelling on the younger brother’s warning not to be around Jax.

Jax glanced back over his shoulder, his gait slowing.

Adrienne scrambled after him, afraid of him without understanding what it was about him that scared her.

He went into the nearest alley, where a motorcycle waited. Straddling it, he tossed her the single helmet.

“Hop on,” he told her.

“Um, are we going far?” she asked.

“No.”

Adrienne went.

Help Jax.

Maybe this is what her sister wanted her to do, to go with him. Therese had trusted him at one point, and she’d possessed some woman’s body long enough to deliver the message to Adrienne that Jax needed help.

Feeling a little more confident, Adrienne climbed on back of the motorcycle, situated her cross-body bag and wrapped her arms around him.

“Ready?” he shouted above the roar of the bike.

“Yes!”

The bike shot forward. Adrienne gasped and clung to him.

Jax tore through the streets, not stopping for traffic, weaving in and out of cars and bypassing red lights with sudden turns.

Adrienne clung to him, at first horrified by the speed and air rushing by her. Her fear was replaced by a thrill as she realized the extent of Jax’s deft skill. He drove with a sixth sense, as if he could predict what the cars and people around them were going to do before they did it. Her heart slammed into her chest as they passed within inches of trucks and cut off cars with a hair’s width of space to spare.

The ride became mesmerizing enough that she forgot to watch to see where they went. The compact blocks grew longer, the frequent stoplights spaced farther a part. Not once did Jax stop at a red light.

After her nightmarish few days, the release of adrenaline lifted her spirits.

The breathless twenty minute ride slowed and stopped. Jax propped one leg against the curb in front of a long row of townhouses with brick facades.

Adrienne climbed off, her legs wobbly and her body humming from exhilaration. She looked around. A small, grassy park was opposite the row houses, and older cars lined the curbs. It was a nicer section of town than where she lived, but not by much. There were bars over the windows of the houses lining the park.

“Where are we?” she asked curiously.

“Where you need to be.” Jax swung his leg off the motorcycle and pried the helmet off her. He draped it over the handlebars then strode forwards.

He took the stairs in front of one row house two at a time. True to his nature, he didn’t knock, but walked right in.

Adrienne followed him and paused in the narrow foyer beyond the front door. Somewhere in the house, a television was playing. The hallway before her had two open doorways – one on each side – and led to a set of stairs going up.

Jax appeared through one of the doorways.

“You got an iPad in there?” he asked, motioning to her bag.

“Yeah. School-issued,” she replied.

“Cell phone?” he asked. He reached forward and grabbed the strap, pulling it off.

“Um, no.”

He unzipped the bag and pulled out the iPad then handed the bag back. Without speaking, he started down the hallway. He tossed the device into one of the open doorways.

“C’mon,” he said.

Adrienne trailed, hesitating at the doorway where he’d tossed her iPad. It sat on a couch cushion in a tiny formal living room. Her excitement from the ride was beginning to fade, replaced by unease.

Jax had passed the stairs and was trotting up a second set of stairs leading to the top level of the row house.

Adrienne followed. The upper level consisted of a short hallway and three doors. One led to a small guest bedroom while the other had a laundry room. Jax had disappeared into the third doorway, and she went to it, pausing. A set of wooden stairs led upward to a dark attic she couldn’t see much of, aside from the beams holding up the roof. She glanced at the door, wondering why they needed one so thick that looked like it was made out of metal.

Don’t do this, Addy, she told herself. Her instincts were at a roar again. No matter what the woman who broke into her apartment told her, she was getting nothing but bad vibes about Jax’s intentions in bringing her here.

“Jax?” she called.

“Come on up,” he replied.

Adrienne stepped slowly into the spacious attic, allowing her eyes to adjust to the poor lighting. A single bulb was on in a corner, leaving most of the attic a maze of dark shapes.

She reached the top and glanced around, trying to make out what was in the attic. What looked like a stack of boxes was a few feet from the nearest wall, and there were shelves lining all four walls beneath a tall, A-frame roof supported by wooden beams.

“Jax?”

He didn’t answer this time, and she walked towards the lighted part of the attic.

The light came from candles at a shrine to Baron Samedi. A large, stone altar was a few feet from the shrine and its candles. This part of the attic smelled like bleach, but she caught the undercurrent of something sickly sweet she didn’t recognize that made her nose wrinkle.

Her eyes took in the strange scene. It certainly looked like some place where a bokor devised black magic spells. The altar was creepy, especially the streaks of what looked like blood that had dried down the sides and the drain two feet away that appeared to be clogged with hair.

Candace’s right. This is a mistake. Adrienne swallowed hard and backed away. Starting to feel freaked out by the place, Adrienne whirled and hurried towards the stairs. She smacked into someone solid and stifled a cry of surprised, not wanting to imagine what lurked in the scary storage space.

Jax steadied her and pushed her back towards the altar.

“Addy.” The woman’s soft voice made Adrienne stop.

A tall woman with blonde hair moved from the shadows on one side of the attic. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her hair tied at the base of her neck. Her skin was clammy and pale, her eyes glazed but trained on Adrienne.

“Jax brought you to visit me.” Her words were faint, as if they came from far away.

Like the woman from Saturday, this woman was pretty – and not quite right.

“I’m sorry if I scared you last time.”

Adrienne shifted, not wanting to connect the bloodied altar and Samedi shrine with what happened Saturday.

“Therese?” she asked.

“Yes.” The stranger smiled. “Jax brings me back every month.”

“You left me the notes.”

“I did.” Therese’s nervous glance at Jax made Adrienne think the gang leader didn’t know about the notes. He hadn’t known about the journal, either, until Adrienne brought it up.

Why was Therese keeping secrets from the man she claimed to love?

“I, uh, didn’t have much time Saturday,” Therese rushed on. “Can I … hug you?”

Adrienne hesitated, scared by the idea of hugging a possessed zombie. She waned to ask more questions but wasn’t certain she should, unless she could get her sister alone.

“Hug your sister, Adrienne.” Jax’s low voice held a note of warning.

Adrienne moved to the woman housing Therese’s spirit. Therese hugged her hard, and Adrienne was relieved that she felt real, alive. She closed her eyes, trying hard to pretend like it really was Therese.

“I don’t understand,” Adrienne murmured, pulling her head back to view the face of the woman holding her. Up close, the woman’s features held the pale blue tinge of death.

“We’ll explain,” Therese promised. “Right now, I need to ask you something.”

“Of course.”

“I never figured out the journal. Jax says you have.”

“But didn’t you write it?”

“I did. I used to call upon the spirits to take me, to show me how to break the curse,” Therese explained. “When they came, I’d write.”

Adrienne gazed at her, wanting to believe Therese was really there, even if only in spirit form. The hopeful look in the woman’s eyes was too real for her to be pretending.

“I’m going to try,” Adrienne said. “I’m marked now.” She pulled away and pushed down her white shirt to show Therese the number written on her shoulder.

“Oh, no. No, no!” Therese whispered, staring at it. “Jax, we didn’t do it. He just chose another to take my place!”

“It’s okay, Therese.” Jax’s deep voice was soft. “I brought Adrienne here so she can help you. She’s going to stay and work on it. Right, Adrienne?”

Adrienne turned to him, unwilling to be trapped in the attic with a zombie and a black magic wielding gang leader.

Jax’s sharp look, however, made her reconsider refusing.

“Yeah,” she forced herself to say.

“Oh, Addy! Thank you!” Therese hugged her.

“We need to talk, Therese,” Adrienne said.

“Next time,” Jax said quickly, calmly. “Therese, we need to give Addy time to figure things out.”

“Yes, Addy. I can’t stand the idea of losing you to the Red Man,” Therese said, her face growing sad. “You can save us both.”

No pressure. Adrienne nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“Come on, Therese. We’ll go to your favorite spot beneath the trees.”

Therese’s attention went to Jax, and the look of affection on her face was enough for Adrienne to understand why her smile was so large in the picture. Jax’s gaze warmed, a smile touching his lips.

He held out his hand, and Therese went to him.

“Go downstairs, baby,” he told her warmly.

She smiled at him and went. Jax watched her until she’d reached the bottom of the staircase.

They really loved each other. Adrienne wasn’t certain what to think, knowing Jax was using black magic to bring her sister back from the spirit world.

When Jax faced her, her fear returned. The smile was gone, the predatory threat back.

“I’ll help you, but please don’t make me stay here,” Adrienne said.

“This is where you should be.”

“What’s going on?” she whispered. “What did you do to that woman?”

He didn’t reply.

She wasn’t able to see his face in the darkness of the attic. He moved towards her, and she tried to skirt around him to get to the stairs.

Jax blocked her.

“I just needed a bokor. I didn’t mean to … intrude,” she said, struggling to keep calm. “Whatever’s going on here, I swear I won’t tell.”

His hands rested on her shoulders. He gripped her hard enough to keep her still. His intensity and size scared her.

Adrienne’s breathing was harsh in her own ears.

“You’re safe here, Adrienne. The Red Man can’t get you. The girl from school can’t get you,” he said quietly.

“Jax,” she whispered. “Please take me home.”

“Candace says you can break the curse.”

She swallowed hard. “Maybe.”

“How?”

“Therese’s journal. I’ve been working on it on my iPad.”

“I’ve got something better.” He released her with one hand. A moment later, he pressed the familiar leather journal into hand. “How long do you need?”

“For what?” she asked.

“To break the curse.”

“I don’t even know if I can. It’s just … just a theory. Maybe, if I could talk to Therese some more …”

His hand slid from her shoulder to her neck, and he pulled her closer.

Adrienne stopped speaking, scared. She braced her arms against his chest, silently praying he wouldn’t kill her, at least not with her sister upstairs.

“You better have more than a theory.” Jax’s voice was low, calm. “I’ll give you two days, Adrienne. If you can’t break it, I’ll save the Red Man a trip.” He squeezed her throat in warning. “You understand?”

“Y…yes.”

“Good.” He released her.

She sagged, catching herself against a stack of boxes.

Jax moved away towards the stairs. “I’m going to Coffee Loa with your sister.”

“Can I do this at home?” she said in a trembling voice.

“I’ll be back tonight. It’s in your best interest to have something to show me.”

“Jax, wait!” she cried, panicking. “Please don’t leave me here!”

“Do what I say, Adrienne!” he snarled, striding towards her.

Adrienne tried to duck away, but he snatched her arms and shoved her hard into the wall, nearly knocking the breath from her. Lowering his head to meet her gaze, he glared at her, his eyes hard.

“You will do this. You will bring her back or you will take her place. I don’t give a damn which it is, Adrienne,” he growled. “Because of who you are, I’m giving you one chance to fix this. If you can’t, you’ll be the next girl the police find in an alley.”

His words terrified her. Adrienne said nothing, struggling to register the horrors that had occurred in this cellar.

“I can’t stand seeing you,” he added, a note of despair in his voice. He released her roughly and moved towards the stairs. “Too much like Therese. We tried every black magic spell there was to break the curse. Spirits help you, you better be able to do what we can’t.”

“Can I talk to her again?” Adrienne asked uncertainly.

“Maybe.” He jogged down the staircase. “Show me some progress.”

A moment later, she heard the heavy metal door slam shut and the sound of it being bolted.

Adrienne dropped to her knees, hugging the journal and breathing hard. It took a long moment before she was able to master her emotions enough to stand without sobbing. She pulled herself up with the help of the boxes and looked around.

Her eyes settled on the altar near the candlelight. She knew that smell now. It was the scent of death, like when a cat crawled under the porch of her mama’s house and died.

Except a cat didn’t die here. The woman housing Therese’s spirit had.

You’ll be the next girl the police find in an alley.

She’d been afraid of Jax since she met him, but he seemed to know something about her sister. Was he really the serial killer plaguing the Lower Ninth Ward? Were the bodies police found those of women he’d slain as hosts for Therese?

Did Therese know what Jax was doing to bring her back? Was her sister as guilty of misusing magic as Jax?

Wiping her face, Adrienne ventured closer to the altar and shrine. She’d never feared Baron Samedi, the god who oversaw the dead. His shrine, however, was sinister, the blood splattered cement around it a testament to the blood rites Jax was performing.

Was she next, if she didn’t figure out how to break the curse?

What would the cards tell her?

Adrienne set down her backpack, unaware of how heavy it was until it was gone. She rolled her shoulders back. They felt bruised, if not from the bag then from Jax’s grip on her.

She skirted through the altar and shrine area, disgusted by it, and grabbed a candle. Hurrying back to her bag, she dropped to her knees and set down the candle before pulling out her cards.

With a deep breath to calm herself, she focused on how to escape the attic. Her hands shook as she shuffled, and she laid out a spread of three and three.

“Please, please help me,” she whispered to the spirits. “Show me what to do.”

She turned over the cards one at a time, growing more puzzled as she went. When she was done, she sat back.

Two of Pentacles, reversed

Two of Swords, reversed

Two of Pentacles, reversed

Two of Swords, reversed

High Priestess, reversed

Devil, reversed

“This isn’t possible,” she said, struggling to understand the story before her. Like her vision in the car, the cards had taken on their own life, showing her what she didn’t think was possible. “There’s only one of each card in the deck!” She stared at them, convinced the stress of her situation was making her misread them.

She closed her eyes, counted to three, then opened them.

The cards hadn’t changed.

She was close to crying again.

“A good spread.”

She twisted at the unfamiliar voice and sprang to her feet.

The Red Man was nearby, fully materialized and glowing faintly in the dark attic.

Adrienne backed away until she hit the wall, too stunned to release the scream building up in her chest.

“What does the two mean?” he asked.

She stared.

“Girl!” His sharp tone was accompanied by a snap of his fingers.

“Duality,” she blurted out. “Balance with myself … and others, intuition and thought.”

He moved closer to her cards, peering at them.

Is this really happening? She felt like she was close to fainting. “Are you … are you here to kill me?”

“No.” The dark opening of the hood turned to her. “Your cards say you haven’t been listening to the spirits. Probably why I’m here.”

She said nothing, terrified of moving or speaking.

“Maybe you’re not strong enough yet,” he added. He reached up to remove his hood.

She squeezed her eyes closed, not wanting to imagine what kind of monster he was.

“Girl!” Another snap of his fingers.

She jumped, more afraid of what he’d do if she upset him than what he looked like. Adrienne opened one eye then the other.

Her heart felt like it stopped.

The Red Man was almost identical to Jayden, except his eyes were green. She gazed at him, emotion surging within her, even knowing it wasn’t the boy who held her heart then broke it.

“Sometimes our choices are hard,” he said. “Mine included. To continue chasing Therese or to take low hanging fruit?” His gaze swept over her. “Just one life.” The words were soft, yearning.

She pressed herself against the wall, not liking the way he looked at her.

“The easy route. I almost always take it,” he said. He shook his head. “I still might.”

“We’re going to break your curse,” she managed. “You can’t have either of us.”

“Intriguing,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “You don’t know.”

She said nothing. All along, she’d felt something was wrong. That maybe there was more to Therese’s story in New Orleans than she knew. It was disrespectful to think poorly of the dead, and so she’d chosen to focus on how good Therese was.

“Know what?” she asked, sensing she wasn’t going to be able to be oblivious any longer.

“Therese offered you in her place.”

“What? No.” She shook her head firmly. “She’d never do that.”

“You cannot deny that she is not what others remember. I know you know differently. I know you know she had a side that no one else knew.”

“Yes, but this is different.”

“I’ve had multiple chances to claim you. You’ve seen me and ignored me. Did you not think I wanted to speak to you?”

“How?” she asked. “I don’t never use black magic.”

“Our families are linked, Adrienne. You simply could’ve asked your ancestors, the one who condemned the ninety-nine in your maternal line,” he said. “But you didn’t.” He gestured at the cards. “You asked everyone what Therese was involved in except those who could tell you.”

Adrienne shook her head, starting to tremble. “Don’t matter now. I ain’t leavin’ here unless Jax kills me and drags me out.”

“Jax and the zombie. Almost as tragic as my love story,” he mused. “You don’t want to hear what I have to say, but you will hear it.” He approached as he spoke, his face harder than Jayden’s had ever been. The air around him rippled with his robe and the dark magic clinging to him.

Unable to move, she simply watched him come, tears stinging her eyes and cheeks.

“If your sister succeeds in breaking my curse, if she brings herself back to life permanently, I will claim thousands, maybe millions more,” he said quietly. “I will kill until the debt I owe is paid. The blood of the St. Croix will fill the streets, and I will spare no one. No one. I must claim the last life owed.”

Adrienne flinched at his tone.

“And all that I do will be a fraction of what the zombie will do, if she is permitted to find a new host and break the curse I am here to enforce.”

She looked up, astonished. “My sister –”

“Set you up. Set Jax up. Look at those cards, Adrienne.” He snatched her arm and dragged her back to them. “Duality. Power and intuition. Choices and fate. Life and Death. You and her.”

“I don’t understand!” she cried.

“Good and evil. An ancient prophecy brought to life by the curse in your House. If she rises again, she will bring unparalleled evil with her.”

Adrienne’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the cards. He was reading them at a level she couldn’t imagine, one only a spirit could see.

He released her. She dropped to her knees.

“Which will you be, Adrienne? Because I know which your sister is. Without balance, there is destruction. I can kill you now, but I risk unleashing her upon the world without you to balance her.”

“You … you’re saying I’m meant to become a mambos, like my mother and grandmother?” she asked.

“I’m saying you are meant to become the mambos who prevents what the spirits fear will happen, should your sister reclaim what she’s lost,” he said quietly. “This is what prevents me from taking you. You were chosen, girl, to stop an ancient prophecy. The threat and the solution both originate from your House.”

She touched the cards. She tried to find untruth in his logic or an instinct that warned her he was manipulating or lying to her.

If anything, his words felt truer than any others she’d ever heard.

“If I become … powerful,” she murmured. “I can help Jayden.”

“You can help his family. My family. We are connected to yours and have been for four hundred years. The curse has linked our fates in a way that cannot be broken,” he answered.

“But Therese …”

“Has helped kill twenty three women. Innocent women.”

She looked up, unable to fathom Therese hurting anyone.

“No,” she said forcefully. “She gave me the journal. The song will break the spell. Why else would she do that, if she turned me over to you?”

“Because, sister of Therese...” He knelt beside her, bringing his intensity with him. “The song she wrote will free her of the spirit world. It will allow her to reclaim what she’s lost. Your sister has been dedicated to black magic for quite some time.”

“If that’s true, why did she give it …” she drifted off. “So I could bring her back. She didn’t know it was a song, did she?”

“Not until you figured it out.”

Adrienne felt ill.

“And now you have a choice, Adrienne,” he said. “You can accept your fate or you can become the last life I need to fulfill my debt and let the zombie loose upon the world. I fear, however, that my penance will be extended, if I don’t let you live. A dangerous prophecy is upon us, one you are involved in. If evil is loose upon the world, and I am the one who allowed it to happen … I’ve been down that road before. I don’t want to take a second trip.”

She shrank away from him. Her mind was reeling with the information he provided. The events of her week began to fall into place. The warnings her cards gave her, the connection she felt with Jayden... Jax’s threats.

The dark side of her sister she’d tried to forget.

Even the timing of her ability to sing being stripped. If what the Red Man said was true, she’d missed warnings from the spirits, who had taken a different type of action to prevent her from singing the song. The careful truth she’d been avoiding – that Therese had more than a curiosity for black magic – crystalized. It wasn’t possible that Therese claimed a temporary host without knowing what happened to the women whose bodies she overtook.

She dropped her gaze to the black journal. Pain like that she felt five years ago when she first heard the news her beloved sister had died robbed her of breath and made her double over. Her insides hurt with the kind of pain that came from no physical source but managed to be far more crippling.

Picking up the journal, she began to cry. The pain intensified, fed by fear that she was doing something she’d regret. Adrienne opened the diary with hands that shook almost too much for her to hold it.

She lowered the pages over the candle until they caught fire. Flames devoured the dry paper. She dropped the journal.

“Good girl.” The Red Man said. “Now, you leave, before they come back to claim your body.”

She shuddered, fresh terror filling her. Adrienne gathered her tarot cards clumsily and stuffed them into her backpack.

When she looked up, the Red Man was gone and light from the hallway spilled into the attic, indicating the door at the bottom of the stairs was open.

Unwilling to believe her sister meant to kill her, even if she’d taken other lives, Adrienne stumbled down the stairs, falling more than once. She ran blindly down a second set of stairs to the main floor and darted to the front door, wrenched it open, and ran down the stairs to the sidewalk.

She stopped and looked around, wanting to scream or break down and sob. Aware her danger wasn’t passed, she wiped her eyes quickly and oriented herself. She didn’t know anything about New Orleans or even what direction Jax had driven her. How did she get home?

A flash of red came from her peripheral. She turned and saw the faint glimmer of the Red Man’s robe leading up the stairs of the neighboring house, whose windows glowed warmly with light. The glimmer faded and disappeared.

Rene’s neighbor. The woman from the clinic.

Hope surging, Adrienne raced down the path the red light had gone to the front door of Jax’s neighbor. She pounded on the door and soon heard the sounds of someone approaching the door.

Rene’s aunt opened the door and stared at her.

“Rene do that?” she demanded, taking in Adrienne’s distraught features and swollen eyes.

Adrienne shook her head, unable to help the laugh that escaped. Within seconds, it turned into crying.

“C’mon, cinnamon rolls,” the woman said. “You in time for dinner.”

“I need … phone,” Adrienne managed.

“You need food. You all skin and bones. I’ll call Rene fo’ you and you eat.”

Adrienne nodded and made herself stop crying.

The nurse was on the phone before Adrienne slid her book bag to the ground. She spoke for a moment then handed the phone to Adrienne.

“What the hell you doing there?” Rene demanded.

“Jax.” She couldn’t get out any other words and definitely couldn’t explain that the Red Man had freed her.

Silence, and then, “Don’t go nowhere. You hear me? Don’t talk to no one, don’t do shit until I’m there.”

She nodded, not caring that he couldn’t see her.

“Put my aunt on.”

Adrienne handed the phone off to the round woman waiting. She went to the window to peek out, afraid she’d find Jax on the doorstep. His motorcycle was gone. The strange flashes of light on the sidewalk in front of his home drew her attention.

With a glance at Rene’s neighbor to make sure she was still on the phone, Adrienne cracked the front door open to get a better look.

She gasped, pushing the screen door open and trotting down the stairs.

The journal fire had spread. The flickering light was from flames that filled the attic of Jax’s house. Smoke poured out of one window on the main floor.

Adrienne watched, uncertain what to feel. Sorrow deep enough to make her hold herself. It wasn’t just about losing Therese and her last belonging. It was for the sense of betrayal that had sunk into her gut the moment she felt the Red Man’s words were true.

Horror and anger mixed with the sense of loss.

What if the Red Man was right about everything? He had to claim his last victim or a prophecy foretelling death would fall upon the world, brought by Therese when she rose again. Therese, Jayden, Rene, Jax … they and their families were all connected.

Adrienne couldn’t let her sister return, even if she didn’t understand yet how to prevent it. She had to learn to listen and channel the magic of the spirits and gods – fast – and find a way to unite those who could help her: Jayden, who didn’t know who she was, and Rene, who was loyal to his brother.

Adrienne watched the flames that began to lick at the roof of the house. Scared yet resolved, she mentally urged Rene to hurry, before Jax returned.

Chapter Twenty One

Seated in the ice cream shop just off campus, Jayden was trying to determine the exact shade of Kimmie’s skin was when his phone rang. He blinked out of his stupor. He’d been unable to take his eyes – or hands – off her since Saturday night.

He glanced at his phone to see who called. If it was his mother, he’d hang up. After their last talk, he was trying to figure out if he should call her drug counselor about her strange rant or just let her work things out. Today was the day his daddy was dropping the paperwork off at court to sue her for permanent, full custody of Izzy.

Tara’s name crossed the screen.

“You can talk to her later,” Kimmie said. “We’re busy talking.”

He clicked the button to hang up on Tara and set the phone down.

“Where were we?” Kimmie asked, her smile dazzling. “I think you were telling me again how beautiful I am.”

Jayden opened his mouth to speak. His phone rang again.

Come on, Tara, just find another ride home.

He hung up.

She called right back.

“All right, she’ll drive me crazy if I don’t get this,” he said apologetically to Kimmie. “Give me a sec.” Jayden untangled his arms and legs from her in the booth where they sat practically on top of one another and walked to the lobby.

Kimmie rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, Tara,” he said, answering.

“Where are you?” she demanded.

“Hanging out with the most incredible woman on the planet.” He flashed a smile at Kimmie, who grinned.

“Ugh you’re making me sick. I need you to come get me.”

“Later. Or you know what? Find your own ride, Tara. I’m tired of driving you around,” he said. “You drove Daddy crazy until he bought you the car you wanted and now, I take you everywhere.”

“You won’t come get me?” She sounded offended.

“Nope. You’re seventeen. Act like it.”

“Okay, fine. I just got raped by a gang, and now, I’m gonna call Daddy and tell him that you refused to come pick me up because you’re too busy hanging out with Kimmie!”

“You what?”

“Oh, are you listening now?” she snapped. “I’m your family, and I need your help. You promised to always come get me.”

“Tara, did you get hurt?”

“Not yet, but if you don’t come here, now, I’m going to walk into the first gang infested alley I find.”

“You’re acting psycho, Tara,” he said, not understanding what was wrong with his stepsister. “What’s going on?”

“Just come get me before I do something stupid. I’ll text you where I am.” She hung up.

Jayden stared at the phone. His heart had flipped when she said she’d been hurt. Whatever mess she got herself into, she clearly needed his help, if she was going to make up crazy stories.

She was acting like his mother. Something was wrong with everyone today. Except Kimmie, the only person making sense.

Jayden returned to the booth. “Kimmie, I gotta pick up Tara. She got into some trouble.”

“What? Now?” Kimmie frowned. “We’re supposed to spend the evening together.”

“We will,” he promised. “I just need to pick her up.”

“Okay.” Kimmie was watching him closely. “You’re sure it’s just Tara? Not like … someone else?”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked. He bent down and kissed her, long and deep, until she was breathless. “Just you, baby.”

Placated, Kimmie smiled.

Jayden left her reluctantly. Sometimes, it hurt being away from Kimmie. Today was one of those days, when walking away made him ache to the point where he was tempted to call Mickey and send him to pick up Tara.

But he’d promised Tara when they entered high school that he’d always put his family first. His phone buzzed, and he glanced down.

“Coffee Loa. What on earth are you doing on that side of town, Tara?” he murmured. He programmed the address into his phone’s GPS.

He went to his car and hopped in, waiting until the interior cooled down before pulling out of the parking lot. With the guidance of the GPS voice, Jayden managed to make it to the Coffee Loa in just under thirty minutes.

He expected to see his stepsister waiting for him outside. When he didn’t, he parked as close as he could get and walked down the block to the coffee shop.

Jayden entered and breathed deeply of the scent of espresso and incense. There were two customers in the shop, both of whom looked wasted or drugged. Either way, he assessed they probably needed the huge mugs of espresso in front of them.

A pretty woman in authentic African dress sat behind the register, her eyes on the door. She smiled when he entered.

Tara wasn’t there. Irritated at being pulled away from Kimmie, Jayden crossed to the friendly looking woman at the counter.

“Hi. I’m looking for my sister. She said she was here,” he said.

“Jayden?” Tara whipped open the heavy curtain separating the coffee shop from the back. “Took you long enough.”

He looked her over, expecting to see something wrong after her phone call. She appeared to be fine.

“Come on. I left Kimmie to come get you.”

“We’re not done yet,” Tara said, glancing at the woman behind the counter. “Candace and I need to talk to you, Jay.”

“Make it quick.”

Tara waved him back behind the curtain.

“I’m Candace,” the woman in African garb said.

“Jayden.” He waited for her to duck beneath the curtain then followed.

Tara sat down at a table in the middle of an area that resembled his grandmama’s too much for him to be comfortable. A shrine to one of the gods was on one side, and veves decorated the walls and floor.

“Sit, Jay,” Tara ordered.

“Nah. Let’s just go.”

“Please, Jayden. It’s important to your sister that you sit and talk for a moment,” Candace said, her polished accent and soft voice easing his concern she’d be another crackpot like his grandmama.

He debated for a moment then sat. “What’s this about?”

“It’s about Kimmie putting curses on people,” Tara said bluntly. “She did it to Adrienne and she’s done it to you.”

“Leave Kimmie out of this,” he said firmly. “She’s the love of my life, Tara.”

“Um, no, she’s not. You broke up with her over the summer. Ask Mickey.”

He shifted, uncertain why so many people seemed to think they knew more about his life and heart than he did.

“Do you recognize her?” Tara pulled up a pic on her phone and slid it across the table to him.

Jayden glanced down then looked again, unable to pull his attention away from the angelic girl with white-blonde hair and green amethyst eyes. He knew her from somewhere. He just wasn’t certain where. She wore the cheer squad uniform from the academy, and the photo featured the girl and Tara, grinning for the camera. The picture was a self-portrait taken by Tara.

He knew all the girls on the cheer squad. Why didn’t he recognize this one?

A memory teased him, dancing just out of reach. He heard a faint ballad sung in a voice that was unfamiliar and achingly sweet, a siren song he wanted to hear more of.

“Jay?” Tara prodded.

The song slid back into the depths of his mind.

“I feel like I should know her,” he said then shook his head. “But I don’t.”

“Her name is Adrienne,” Tara said. “You were like, head over heels for her two days ago.”

“No. I’d remember that. I’ve been in love with Kimmie for years.”

Tara gave a noisy, exasperated sigh and looked to Candace expectantly.

“Do you remember these?” Candace asked, holding out the dog tags he’d been searching for Saturday.

“Of course. Grandmama Toussaint gave them to me.” He took them. “How did you get them?”

“You gave them to Adrienne,” Tara said impatiently.

He studied Adrienne’s picture again. His heart belonged to Kimmie, but if not … wow. He’d be all over the beautiful blonde.

“These have a protection spell on them. When you took them off, Kimmie’s hexes were able to take hold,” Candace explained, motioning to the tags.

“Grandmama said never to take them off.” He gazed at the necklace, puzzled as to why he did take them off. Why they ended up with a stranger he’d never met, but whom he couldn’t take his eyes off of. “I don’t believe this stuff, but would putting these back on … change anything?”

“It will prevent more hexes and the current curse from growing stronger. But they will not undo what has been done,” Candace answered. “Kimmie can lift her curse or I can help you lift it over time.”

Tara reached for her phone.

Jayden waved her hand away and pulled it closer to him, eyes on Adrienne’s photo.

“What happened to her?” he asked. “Why did she give back the dog tags?”

“Because you’re an ass, Jay,” Tara snapped. “I’ll send you the bloomin’ pic. Give me my phone.”

He rolled his eyes and slid it back to her. “So you think Kimmie what? Made me forget her?”

“Yep. And put a love spell on you so you’d go back to her.”

“That’s crazy. I’ve always loved her.” Jayden rose, uncomfortable with the talk and unhappy they were slamming Kimmie so much. “Come on, Tara, let’s go.” He turned to leave.

“Do you have any missing time? Any days where there are whole sections you simply can’t remember?” Candace asked.

Jayden froze, hand on the black curtain.

“Like where were you Saturday?” Tara added. “You left early in the morning and didn’t come back until after the party started.”

His hand dropped. He’d been thinking about it earlier today, too. Mickey asked him where he was Saturday, and so had another student from the football team.

“Okay. So I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Do you remember Friday and what Kimmie did to Adrienne?” Tara asked.

He thought hard. He remembered going to school and the football game, but there were blackouts. Like, wasn’t there a pep rally? Did he miss it for some reason?

“Here. One of the other girls sent this to me,” Tara said, handing him her phone once more. “Watch the clip.”

Jayden took it and flicked the play button. It was the pep rally.

He was there, greeting all the members of the football time that ran out of the locker room, like usual. Frustrated, he watched, unable to recall the scene at all.

The cheer squad ran back to the center of the gym. He recognized all the girls – but one. Adrienne.

She was small, slender and gorgeous. The camera zoomed in on her as she strode to the microphone. The music for the National Anthem started. She began to sing, and then suddenly, coughed loudly.

“Whoa,” he said, trying not to smile. He immediately felt bad. The look on her face made him sad for her.

She tried again and again, finally running out of the gym. Tara followed her into the locker rooms, and the clip ended.

“I don’t remember this,” he murmured. “Why?” He looked to Candace.

“Because, Jayden, you’re under a curse. Put these back on,” she instructed, handing him the dog tags. “Your grandmama is as powerful as Marie Leveau was. No one near here can do what she can.”

He accepted his necklace and pulled it on, expecting to feel different once he did.

He didn’t. He still loved Kimmie, still didn’t know who Adrienne was or why he felt like he should know her.

His phone rang. Kimmie’s name flashed, and he grinned, thrilled to hear from her. Without caring what Tara and Candace thought, he answered.

“Hey, baby,” he said.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Picking up Tara. I’ll be back soon.”

“Hmmm. Okay. I feel like you’re ignoring me.”

“No, Kimmie. We’re leaving now,” he said, waving at Tara. “Hey, do you know an Adrienne St. Croix?”

There was a pause, then a tight, “No.”

“Oh. I thought she was on the cheer squad. I saw the video from the pep rally.”

“Oh, that Adrienne. She was on the cheer squad,” Kimmie said. “She’s a scholarship student and decided not to stay at school. Are you with someone?”

Scholarship? His dad would have a fit. The tense note in Kimmie’s voice troubled him. She was too perfect to be jealous or upset over some other girl on the cheer squad.

Even one who looked like Adrienne.

“Just Tara and one of her friends,” he replied. “I’ll give you a call in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Hurry.”

“I will.” He hung up, perplexed, and looked at Tara. “I’d never date a scholarship girl.”

“You would this one,” Tara retorted. “She’s nice. I like her.”

He raised an eyebrow. Tara didn’t like any other girl she hung out with enough to compliment her.

“Will you sit down with us?” Candace asked.

“No. I’ve gotta get back to Kimmie,” he said. “Tara, if you want a ride, you better come now. I’m not coming to get you later.”

“Let me send you back with some tea,” Candace said quickly. “You will love it. Straight from Africa.” She rose and hurried behind a second curtain leading deeper into the store.

“All right.” Jayden glanced at the time. He was beginning to feel like he was suffocating in the back room. The images from the pep rally played over and over in his mind. Before she started coughing, the girl Adrienne had sung in the same voice he heard in the back of his mind.

He knew her. The feeling was stronger, just like his concern over the missing time and blackouts grew more demanding.

Normal people didn’t black out and wake up at a gas station. He couldn’t believe Kimmie would do anything like put a curse on him, but he couldn’t explain it either. Or why he’d brushed it off before, like it was no big deal when it could be indicative of a disease or illness.

Or a curse.

He was sweating. Jayden left the stifling back room for the café. It, too, felt too warm. He lingered in front of the counter, taking in the voodoo supplies and trinkets around the café.

“You okay, Jayden?” Tara asked, following. “You look pale. For you.” She peered up at him.

“Yeah, just … dehydrated, I think.”

“Candace says you can ask Kimmie to remove the hexes she put on you and Adrienne.”

“That stuff isn’t real.” Though he was beginning to think something unnatural was going on. He just wasn’t certain what. “Where did this Adrienne girl go? I didn’t see her at school today.”

“Kimmie ran her out this morning. I came here with her. She left a couple hours ago, and I stayed to learn more about voodoo from Candace,” Tara answered. “She’s really cool.”

“Right. Daddy will throw a fit if he catches you getting involved in this stuff.”

“Like you with a poor, superstitious girl?”

I’m with Kimmie. He kept quiet. Tara was convinced he was dating Adrienne. His head was hurting a little, the heavy air of the café bothering him too much to start another argument with Tara.

A couple came in, and Jayden looked twice. The man had painted his face like a skeleton while the blonde woman with light blue eyes appeared dazed and too pale.

Druggies. He eyed them, wondering why Tara was on this side of town anyway.

A flash of red from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Jayden twisted his head to look but saw nothing there.

“Here you go, Jayden. Sip some each night before bed,” Candace said, reappearing from the back rooms. She held out a small tin he assumed was filled with tea.

“Thanks,” he said. “How much I owe you?”

“Nothing. Just promise me you’ll drink it and keep your tags on.”

“Sure.” He accepted it.

“Come back whenever you’re in the neighborhood,” Candace said with a bright smile.

He lifted the tin in a silent salute.

Tara hugged Candace, talking quietly, while Jayden started towards the door.

The woman who had just entered was staring at him. The couple had moved to a table in the middle of the coffee shop. The man sat, but the woman didn’t.

Jayden offered a quick smile and stopped at the door, waiting for Tara. He studied the plain tin then popped off the top. The light scent of jasmine and something woodsy reminded him of the garden behind his father’s house. It was a pleasing, light smell, and he took a deep breath.

“This ends now.”

He looked up, surprised to see the woman standing just two feet from him. Her glazed eyes looked just over his shoulder, and he glanced back without seeing anyone behind him.

“You won’t take me.”

“I’m sorry, what –” he started.

The woman raised a knife. Jayden’s whole world slowed down. Someone across the room shouted. Instinctively, he raised his hands to block the knife. Fire tore through one hand, and blood splattered him. Shocked by the sensation, he didn’t have a chance to defend himself a second time, yet he threw his shoulder forward and tackled her, trying to knock the woman off her feet without hurting her.

The knife pierced his back once, twice, before they hit the ground.

Jayden smelled blood, felt the fire spreading throughout his body. He rolled off the woman, gasping for air. Why did he feel like he was drowning? There was no water around him.

“Jayden!” Tara’s scream was the last sound that registered, before the world grew too blurry for him to make out.

Jayden’s eyes closed, his grandmama’s warning about someone killing him drifting through the darkness in his mind..

A damsel in distress. A white girl with white hair and eye like jewels.

Adrienne?

Chapter Twenty Two

Jayden’s world grew darker before it began to lighten. Shapes formed, and then he felt the warmth of the sun, heard the sound of a small creek. Grass tickled his feet.

“It is almost ready, Charles.”

Jayden blinked to clear his vision. The surroundings bloomed into light and color. He sat on the ground, leaning against the rough bark of a tree, in a grassy field that smelled of wildflowers. The trickling stream was a few feet away, its clear water reflecting the sunlight.

Where was he?

“I worry it will not work. Or that it will not be enough for Papa.”

He leaned around the tree to see who spoke.

A couple dozen feet away, under another tree, a brunette with porcelain skin took the hands of the dark-skinned man seated beside her. She rested them on her dress, which was pale blue. The man beside her wore all red, a robe of some sort.

“You are so quiet, Charles.”

“I am praying to our gods, my Brianne,” the man’s voice was soft.

Jayden climbed to his feet, flinching when his first step snapped a branch. He paused, afraid of drawing the attention of the strangers.

Jayden!

He cocked his head to the side, recognizing Tara’s voice without seeing her.

The man said something too quiet for him to hear.

The woman laughed, a light, contagious sound that drew his attention.

He felt like he was intruding but moved closer, intrigued by the strangers in his dream. Jayden stopped and leaned against a tree a few feet behind the couple.

The woman’s eyes were clear, green amethyst, resembling Adrienne’s, the girl Tara swore he was dating. He found himself mesmerized by their color. The woman was around Adrienne’s age. The similarities stopped there. This woman’s hair was dark and curly, held in check by a bonnet. If the length of her skirts were any indication, she was also tall.

Jayden tried to figure out where they were. While peaceful and pretty, it wasn’t anywhere he’d been in Louisiana, which made him wonder how he was dreaming about it in the first place.

“Marie comes.”

His focus returned to the couple. He saw a portly, African woman in a long dress and bonnet approaching from the direction opposite of the stream. She carried a small, wooden box inlaid with carvings Jayden couldn’t see from the distance.

“Today is the first day of our forever,” the young woman said, lovingly gazing at the man she called Charles.

“Go. Claim our future,” he urged, nudging her.

The green-eyed woman rose quickly. Jayden was pleased to see he was right about her height. She was about six feet tall and slender. He watched her hurry to the woman bearing the box.

His breath caught. He was startled to see the birthmark the between the portly woman’s eyes. It was the same that Grandmama Toussaint wore, the same his mother and every female member of her family was born with. He started forward, curious to meet the two women with familiar features.

“Que bien aime, tard oublie.” A hand rested on his arm. “Every time I am here, I think to myself, I would do it all again for her.”

Jayden looked up and froze.

The man in the red robe was a mirror image of him, with the exception of his eyes and his aquiline nose. Charles had green eyes but was the same age, build and size as Jayden.

“The Baron lets you watch, not interfere,” Charles warned him.

We’re losing him.

Jayden shook his head again, uncertain where this voice came from or whose it was.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“At the beginning,” Charles answered, smiling faintly. “The Baron Samedi likes to remind me that I am not wholly lost. Imagine a man out of his time and away from his own spirit not being lost.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. This will remind you.” Charles held out his clenched fist.

Jayden eyed it. Reluctantly, he held out his hand.

Charles dropped the familiar skeleton key into his palm.

“The beginning,” he repeated. “The day before I used this key for the first time.”

“You,” Jayden breathed, wanting to throw the dreaded key. “You’re my ancestor, who sold all those people into slavery. Is this a dream? Did I go back in time?”

“Neither. You are in-between life and death. My home, until I fulfill my … obligation.”

“Which is …”

“One more life.”

Jayden inched away. He heard another laugh and faced the creek. With the man in red beside him, he saw three figures passing around the box. The older woman bearing the mark of his family appeared grim, while the young girl with Adrienne’s eyes was beaming happily. Charles – now wearing plain black clothing – also appeared happy.

“What’re they doing?” he asked the robed man beside him.

“Charles – me in the past – and Brianne have just incurred a curse. Tonight, they will be happy, make love under the stars and swear to love another until the day they die, which will be in one year for Brianne, after the man her father marries her off to beats her to death,” the robed man explained. “Tomorrow, I return to Africa, never to see her again. I, however, will live for four hundred years, committing atrocities you cannot imagine.”

“You wanted gold, so you could marry her,” Jayden said, recalling the story his father told him of his family’s gruesome history. “You sold out your own people.”

“I swore to do whatever it took. The curse led me in the direction I had to go. I didn’t question it,” Charles said. “I never knew she was dead for five years after this day.”

The three figures vanished.

“No, wait!” Jayden exclaimed. “The woman, the older lady. I know her, don’t I?”

“There were three Houses involved in the curse. You represent two.”

“So … yes.” Jayden guessed. “My mother’s family helped my father’s family with this curse.”

“Yes.”

“Then you killed ninety-nine firstborns in my father’s family. The girl … is she Adrienne’s ancestor?”

“She is. As my penance, I had to kill ninety-nine firstborns in both Houses. You are the first born outside the curse in four hundred years. Adrienne should be as well,” Charles said. “One more, and I’m free.”

“You said she should be. What does that mean?”

“It means my final kill was taken from me. I’ve been patient. What’s five years when you’ve been alive for four hundred?” Charles shrugged. “I tracked her sister Therese through the Baron’s spirit world. Sometimes, when she emerges into the human world, I kill whatever form she takes as a reminder that I have not forgotten. I can’t quite get to her, but I’m done playing games. Obviously the spirits and gods have other plans, or sweet Adrienne would be mine already.”

The tale chilled Jayden as much as the key in his hand. It didn’t seem possible that the boy his age had killed two hundred people.

“And then you’re free,” he whispered.

“And then I’m free,” Charles agreed. “I can finish out my life in peace and die with dignity.”

Jayden didn’t ask about the lives Charles claimed. There was no dignity in being struck down by a four hundred year old boogeyman from a curse.

Hang on, Jayden. You can do it.

Another voice, this one familiar, though he wasn’t able to place it.

“It’s not right. The people you killed weren’t even involved in this,” Jayden said, motioning to the spot where the three had stood.

“We knew the risks,” Charles replied.

“You knew so many would die?”

“We knew the curse would return upon us three times whatever harm we caused,” Charles said. “We both swore to bear the penance. The more gold I got, the more I wanted, and the more I did wrong to get it. I was stricken by gold lust. I forgot why I wanted it and destroyed as many lives as it took to get more. I feel fortunate the price was only ninety-nine from each House. Considering the evil I did, I could’ve wiped out both families many times over.”

Jayden felt sick. He couldn’t let himself imagine how many lives his ancestor had sold into slavery or outright destroyed.

“Not Adrienne.” He didn’t know why entirely, but he knew she had to live.

“Tell her sister. Therese is the one who set her up,” Charles said. “She couldn’t break the spell and so she shifted it to another, in hopes of one day living again. I’ve been debating what to do: take the easy target, Adrienne, or continue chasing her sister.”

“Her own sister did this?”

“She did. Tragic lovers.” Charles’ eyes went to the spot where the three had been. “Repeating history. Incurring the wrath of a curse whose power they cannot begin to understand. If Therese succeeds in returning, she will destroy many lives. ”

“White zombie.” Jayden wasn’t certain where the odd words came from.

“Yes.”

“What am I doing here?” he demanded.

“You tell me. You showed up in my memory.” Charles smiled. “They’ve been trying to bring you back since you arrived. Why are you here, Jayden?”

Because it’s important I understand what happened. I just don’t know why.

The same way Adrienne had captured his attention with one look, this odd place and its tragic story did as well. His family was free of the curse, and he didn’t even know who Adrienne was, aside from a picture and what his sister told him.

The idea of her dying at the hands of someone who looked like him, though, did not sit well. She shouldn’t die because of something her ancestors did. But what business was it of his to interfere? To warn her? To call the police?

Could the police even protect her against someone who wasn’t supposed to be alive?

“Is there a way to make things right without anyone else dying?” Jayden asked.

“If there is, I never found it. The curse must be fulfilled. It’s the only way to end it. After Brianne married that man, she had twins, born minutes a part. The firstborn was a girl, the second a boy. I spent my first fifty years fighting the curse. I prayed for weeks at a time, tried to kill myself, converted to every religion in existence at the time,” Charles said, pensive. “Nothing worked. Nothing lifted the curse from my shoulders. All the while, I built an empire of gold by selling our people.

“One night, I gave up. I went to bed with two bottles of whiskey and a gun, praying I’d just die. You know what happened?”

Jayden shook his head.

“When I awoke three days later, I found the bodies of every firstborn from both families, stacked like firewood in my yard.” Charles smiled, a strange light in his eyes.

Jayden backed away, not liking what he heard.

“My own son and grandson. Brianne’s daughter and her granddaughter. A few firstborn nephews, nieces and cousins. Twelve bodies total, every firstborn from both families for fifty years. I realized then that I couldn’t fight a power that forced me to take the life of my own son. So, I stopped trying. I accepted my penance and my obligation and I did what I was suppose to do.”

“There has to be another way,” Jayden said, horrified. “My god or your gods … they would never condemn someone to suffer in this way.”

“Well, I never figured it out. One more, and I’m done,” Charles said. “At this point, you have a bigger concern. Adrienne’s sister is getting ready to bring a new kind of evil upon you all, stemming from her attempts to prevent the curse from being fulfilled.”

“Charles, there must be a way to stop this, before –”

Suddenly, he felt as if he was yanked out of his body and thrown into a wall. Light exploded around him, blinding him. Blurred activity was loud around him, and he struggled to understand what was going on. He tried to breathe then choked, but couldn’t cough. He was drowning.

“We got him!” someone called. “Easy, Jayden.”

Hands pressed him back, and his strength gave out. He lay still, freaked out by the inability to see straight or control what was happening to his body. The scent of flowers was replaced by that of antiseptic and blood.

Gradually, he began to realize where he was. While he wasn’t able to focus, he recalled being stabbed by a blonde woman. The strange dream faded without leaving completely. He thought he saw a familiar flash of red – Charles’ robe – but couldn’t turn his head to see if his ancestor was there.

After what felt like forever, the activity around him slowed. Jayden found himself able to focus better. The more he concentrated on fully entering reality, the less he recalled of his dream, until it was too disjointed to remember.

The steady beeps of hospital machines grew sharp and clear. The bed he was on wasn’t soft, but it was firm, and the chill of an air conditioner touched his skin.

“How we doing?” a friendly doctor with large brown eyes asked, leaning over.

Jayden grunted. He felt like his body weighed two tons. He lifted an arm, but it took effort and made him sweat.

“Good. You had a close call, but you’re doing good. Any pain?”

“No,” Jayden answered. “Hospital.”

“Yes, sir. You’re at a hospital. I want you to get some rest before we allow visitors,” the doctor continued. “I’m going to increase your meds just a little, so you sleep tonight. In the morning, you can talk to your parents. Sound like a plan?”

“Sure.”

“Good.”

Jayden had just shaken his grogginess when it returned, settling over him heavily enough to pull him into unconsciousness.

This time, he dreamt of the girl he was supposed to know, but didn’t. She was trapped in a darkness similar to that of his dreams, her green eyes panicked. Her voice was faint, distant, and he strained to hear it.

I can’t sing. Help me sing.

Over and over, she repeated the words. Eventually, she broke into sobs and sank into the darkness, disappearing.

“Wait!” he cried, reaching for her.

She was gone, and the dream faded with her.

I can’t forget. Have to help Adrienne.

Jayden repeated the words silently over and over, fighting the darkness of slumber. Adrienne slid from his mind, forgotten, and was soon followed by the vow.

A deep, unnatural sleep claimed him, and his mind went quiet.

Content

Cursed
Voodoo Nights - 1
by
Lizzy Ford

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two