Chapter 9
Kristie
“Mama?”
Mama Celene shuffles out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of sweet tea and three glasses. My brow raises at the third glass, but I shrug it off. It’s not my business to pry into Mama’s affairs. I learned that through the years of living with her. She’ll only share with you when she’s ready.
I rush forward, taking the tray from her and following her into the little reception room.
Placing it on the mahogany table I wait until she’s seated before I flop back into my chair.
The old wicker may have seen better days, but it’s still as comfy as it was when I first arrived on Mama Celene’s doorstep as an angry, scared, annoyingly smart-mouthed teen.
Mama gives me a little smile as she peers at me, leaning forward to fill our glasses. I take mine, savouring the smooth tea as it slides down my throat. I watch Mama over the rim of my glass, trying to hide my smile as neither of us make a move to break the deadlock we’re in.
Until Mama leans forward and charlie horses my knee.
“Ow! That’s cheating!”
Mama cackles, tossing her head back. I frown at her, then poke out my tongue as I wait for her to stop laughing at me.
“So… you gon’ tell me why you here, cher? Or I gotta read it in de bones?”
I groan, resting my head on the back of the chair as I stare at the ceiling. I could tell her that I was feeling a little sensitive. Whine about how life isn’t fair. But I’m a grown woman and I’ve been living with this weight my whole life. It’s probably time I accept my life will be lived alone.
“Ahhh, yo’ gift weighin’ on ya now, cher?”
“It’s just not fair!” I do exactly what I decided I wouldn’t do. Typical Kristie. Flip flopping all over the place. “Why does everyone I like have to die?”
“Dis ‘bout de Ghost Witch, eh?”
“Oh Ghost Witch now huh?” I tease before huffing. “No,” I lie. I don’t want Mama to know about Dima and how he lights up everything inside me. How I want to have that feeling for the rest of my life. Hopeful. Safe. “It’s about, ah, Brenna.”
Mama squints at me. She probably knows I’m lying. Kinda. There’s something about Brenna that draws me to her. I just don’t know what.
“She works in the coffee shop I like to go to. She’s all sweetness and light and fun and she makes me feel less like everything is shit. But I can’t spend too much time in her presence, in case, you know,” I widen my eyes and draw my fingers across my throat.
“Dat’s not de way, an’ you know it.”
“Really? Because it definitely feels that way. Everyone I come into contact with dies.”
Mama gives me a bored look. “You a hitwoman, Kristiana. Most of dem people you meet ‘cause you s’posed to end ‘em.”
I wave a hand in her direction and look out the window trying not to pout. “Stop talking logic to me.”
Mama chuckles before she clears her throat, gaining my attention. “Mmm, if it de whispers houndin’ ya, den dat somethin’ worth feelin’ sorry fo’.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees as I drop my guard. Only with Mama. And Dima. “They’re dark Mama,” I whisper, “so many of them, evil, shadows in their soul.” I swallow, looking out the window again. “I - I don’t know if I can stop them all.”
“De whispers, are dey leadin’ you somewhere, cher?”
I shake my head. “Not somewhere. Someone.” I hold her gaze. “Someone special.”
“Like you?”
I fidget with my fingers, “No, like Maddigan.”
Mama stiffens in her chair. “This someone, they feedin on people?”
I swallow thickly. “Yeah. But where Maddigan fed off the joy of people, sucking them dry and leaving them bereft, this one feeds off souls.” Mama frowns at me in confusion.
“He’s there in the shadows while the filth violate the pure souls.
The girls Dima saved? He was there when Glenn’s buddies violated them.
He feeds off the pleasure of the men who do this, and the fear of the children. ”
“Mmm, I see it now. De spirits callin’ you, no? To cut down every soul what play dey part.”
“Yeah.”
Mama nods once, then leans forward, placing her hand on my knee. She stares intently at me, her dark eyes clouding over as a sharp pain pierces behind my eyes, making me flinch.
“Ow! Shit!”
“Language!” Mama barks, her eyes back to black as the night.
“Sorry Mama,” I mumble, glaring at her and whatever magic hoodoo she did to me.
““Listen to me, Kristiana. Dis yo’ path to walk. De spirits call you, an’ dey know you strong enough to finish what mus’ be done.
But dere be forces out dere workin’ against you.
Not ever’one you meet be ordinary. Some specials, dey hide what dey are, powers bigger dan you can dream.
So be careful, cher. Trust yo’ gut, an’ trust de Ghost.”
My eyes flick to hers, “Dima? No, he can’t be involved.
He’s good. Pure.” I swallow thinking how pure he was last night before I sullied him.
I shake myself off to stop my thoughts going places I don’t need them to go.
Especially not in front of Mama. “He does good, Mama. I can’t risk him getting hurt. Or worse.”
Mama opens her mouth to argue, before snapping it closed. She purses her lips, as if trying to keep them all in. I roll my eyes at her and wait her out.
“OK,” she shrugs her bony shoulders.
“Wait, why do I feel like you’re tricking me?”
“Ain’t no tricksters in dis house. Only me, an’ de girl I call mine.”
I roll my eyes before standing and moving toward the woman who took me in. Leaning down I wrap her small body in my arms, letting her warmth seep through me. Calming me as it always has.
“Go on, finish dat tea now. I got someone else comin’ to my door.”
I grin, doing exactly as she said before moving to the kitchen and rinsing my glass.
Walking back through the house I stop at the picture on the wall.
The one of me with Mama Celene, and two other kids Mama saved just like me.
Gabe, whose gift is the ability to talk to the dead, and Maddigan.
Whose curse was to revel in the joy of others, feeding on it until there was nothing left of them.
He was one of my first kills. And the hardest. Reaching out, I run a finger along the glass, Maddigan’s face hidden partly in the shadows.
The rest of the people in this picture somehow were lucky enough to survive my curse. Maybe Dima could be another?
“Kristiana!”
“Yeah, yeah, keep your granny panties on, I’m coming,” I holler down the hall to Mama, trying not to laugh as she curses me for talking about her drawers.
She follows me through the reception room, the hall, all the way to the open door, the fall breeze gently whispering through the house. She places the tray and two glasses on her little outdoor table, then turns to me. Arms open wide.
I squeeze her tight, soaking up all her love and good vibes until she pats my back, letting me know her visitor will soon arrive.
“OK, I’m going!” I giggle, throwing my hands up in the air.
I trot down the front steps, heading for my little green car. I feel better. A little lighter and a little more hopeful. May as well try killing another on the list before the day is over.
Dima
OK. I snapped and used my vision. I highly doubt the powers that be will blind me for it, seeing as they’re the ones that sent me Kristie in the first place. Although that still doesn’t help the clenching of my ass cheeks as I sit in my car, impatiently, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.
Blowing out a breath I lean my head back, eyes closed.
I know she’s safe. I watched her walk into Mama Celene’s house after hugging her without the walls and barriers she always has up.
No, that’s not true. Last night I got to see her, the real her without her walls.
I got to feel her beneath me, the fear she usually tries to push away with bravado nonexistent.
Cracking an eyelid I take a quick peek to check that her ridiculous little car is still parked outside of Celene’s.
Confirming that it is, I close my eyes again, running through the scenes in the recurring dream I have.
She’s dressed in white, a long gauzy gown and something so unlike what I’ve ever seen her in.
La Strega is a manic punk pixie, not a summer dress type of woman.
Slowing my breathing I concentrate on where I am in the scene.
My back is to a column, I can feel the cold of it seeping into me.
Tearing my eyes from Kristie I turn, looking up at the large house.
It’s an older ornate Italian style home, at odds with the creole flavor most homes in Orleans adopt.
It’s expansive, wealthy and I know immediately what district it’s in.
Turning, I watch Kristie run, dress tangling around her legs, dark hair flying around her shoulders.
Taking another breath I tear myself from the scene, already knowing how it’s going to end.
My gaze roams the lush gardens of the house.
Tall trees, layered flower beds, a wrought iron fence typical of the era the house was built in.
My brows pinch as I will the version of me in my vision to move.
Move closer to the front gate, look for a house number, anything that will tell me where we are.
Kristie’s screams have me squeezing my eyes tightly shut, to block out what I know will be her dark blood staining the front of her dress before she hits the ground.
Where are her boots? Her guns? Why is she barefoot in a nightgown?
None of this strikes me as usual for Kristie.
Yes I know we’ve only spent one day and most of a night together, but I know in my soul that the version of her in my dreams isn’t the real her.
I jerk slightly, eyes flying open. The version of her in my vision isn’t the real her.
Could this be some sort of trickery? I mean, between me being blessed with visions, and Strega being cursed with death, there’s a lot of weird fuckery in terms of people like us that sit in the middle.
The between space of completely normal people and those of us who have been touched.
My tapping resumes on my steering wheel, as my mind runs from scenario to scenario, trying to figure out the how and the why.
Have my visions been sent to me to save my soul mate, or the imposter in my dreams?
Has Kristie been thrown in my path not for me to find her, but for us to work together on something? Is my dream a distraction?
Movement across the road has my eyes landing on Kristie, skipping down the steps of Mama Celene’s house, waving to her in such a light, happy fashion that it’s hard to believe death follows this woman.
I watch as she climbs into her little beetle, then tears off down the road.
Waiting until she turns the corner I get out of my car, gently closing the door behind me and make my way to the house my woman just left.
Climbing the front steps I find Mama Celene sitting in her rocking chair on the porch, pouring two glasses of sweet tea.
“Ya gon sit, Ghost?”
I nod, not that she notices as she leans her head back, eyes closed to the small sliver of sun gracing her lined, dark face.
“Ya gon ask?”
“Which question do you want first?” I ask, leaning to sit in the empty rocking chair to her left. It creaks alarmingly but manages to hold my weight.
“De one ’bout trickery. It don’t never end, sweet.” She turns, dark eyes roving my face. “Ain’t jus’ you an’ her, cher. Out dere, somethin’ else walkin’. Beins made of shadow, full up wit’ darkness. Dey de ones playin’ tricks on ya.”
“How do I stop them?”
Her eyes narrow, as if looking deep inside me for something only she knows. “She de other half’a you, cher. You feel it? Like fire catchin’ in de bones?”
“Da,” I whisper. I do feel it. It’s not only like fire in my bones, it’s in my blood. A burning deep inside, almost painful but exquisite in its torture.
She wriggles in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips as she tips her head to the fall sun. “Listen now. She hold de key, an’ you guard de gate. But de fight? Dat belong to her. De whisper gon’ fade, de dark gon’ break when La Strega rise.”
I roll her words around, “It’s never been about me.”
“Mm-hmm, you a smart boy, cher.” She grins, her little face lighting up.
She leans forward, her hand resting on my knee, eyes on mine.
A faraway look comes over them, black irises turn hazy, milky as she stares at me, holding my gaze with hers.
I wince when sharp stabbing pain tears through my vision, as if a needle pierced through my left temple, and exited through my right and then it’s gone.
She gently pats my knee, then leans back, getting comfortable in her rocking chair.
“Ya ready now, cher. Go stand by ma daughter. De curse chase her, but wit’ you… maybe she live.”
I stand to my full height, gazing down at Celene. I have a feeling that this won’t be the last time I’ll see her. I open my mouth, to pledge my vow, that I will protect her adopted daughter with everything in me, but she grins and waves me off.
“I know.”
I can’t help but huff out a laugh, nodding once in her direction before moving quietly down her front steps. I walk down the uneven path, out onto the sidewalk jerking when someone walks into my shoulder, barging past.
“Watch it, Phantom.”
My eyes snap to his at the name, too close to what Celene and Kristie call me to be a coincidence.
The guy is in the shadow of the neighbor’s large overhanging trees, but I can’t miss the evil grin that’s plastered on his face, whispers filling my head as I stare at him.
Evil whispers of misdeeds and cruelty. He steps to cross the road and the whispers stop but the ill feeling I had as soon as he touched me lingers.
Not once has anyone ever bumped into me.
It’s not how I move, it’s not how I exist in this world. Something is fucked up.
Looking over my shoulder to Celene’s porch, she’s standing, eyes on the man across the road as he disappears down an alley between two houses. Her gaze meets mine and she nods simply before moving back to her chair with a view.
I blow out a breath and unclench my fists, making my way back to my car. I need to find Kristie. Not only to make sure she’s OK, but because after that encounter I need her teasing and simple view on life to pull me out of my spiraling thoughts.
Shit just got a lot more complicated.