19. Voodoo-proof Vest
Chapter nineteen
Voodoo-proof Vest
Kazimir
My mouse better be fine.
I carried the Eye of the Gator in one hand and headed to the shadow-draped porch.
The few Black men that weren’t standing, now rose and came to the edge of the porch.
Their gazes remained on my SUVs of armed men.
Do not worry. There will be no need for war as long as my mouse is fine.
Those men stood on the porch, still as statues. And in the trick of the moonlight, shadows partially concealed their faces, morphing their expressions into otherworldly illusions with unblinking eyes. The threat of violence radiated from them. It was as if they were not men all, but phantoms Delphine had summoned from old graves.
Dead men to protect her forever.
A chill slithered down my spine.
Despite the undercurrent of danger, I moved forward without a gun or my men.
The love for my mouse propelled me.
Turning fear into determination.
This was why love was a gun to me.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
Inescapable.
It loaded me with courage, aimed my resolve, and pulled the trigger on my actions. With each step, I was firing bullets of defiance against the fear that sought to paralyze me.
For her I would walk through hellfire, barefoot.
Be okay, mysh.
I climbed the stairs and moved past the silent phantoms. Their gazes damn near pierced my skin.
When I stepped on the porch, it creaked.
The pungent odor of marijuana swirled toward me.
Maxwell stopped pacing and stared at me. “Em still hasn’t come up.”
“And you still have not gone down.”
Maxwell stepped forward and kept his voice close. “I’m not going down unless you’re with me.”
I scowled. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I left you here to watch over her like you always do.”
“Well. . .now we know that even I have my limits when it comes to protecting Em.” Maxwell glanced at the jar. “You got the Eye?”
“You thought I would not?”
“More important.” Maxwell lifted his gaze to me. “Did anybody die?”
I frowned. “Let’s go see my mouse.”
“Hold up, man.” Maxwell took a hit of his joint and handed it to me. “You’re going to need this. Trust me.”
Thin whips of smoke left his nostrils.
I was about to knock the joint out of his hand, until I looked into his eyes. My nerves flared. Maxwell’s eyes mirrored the unease I felt pumping inside of my chest.
“For real, man.” Maxwell gestured to it. “Trust me.”
Against all logic, I took the joint. “Do you think Delphine is helping her?”
“All of this shit is out of my domain of common sense, man.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m just here for the ride, trying not to get bit by a vampire or something else.”
“I doubt vampires exist.”
“Yeah, but you still won’t see me walking in no fucking alley late at night in this city. One might pop out of the shadows.”
I brought the joint to my lips and inhaled deeply.
Maxwell watched me and then shook his head. “I forgot you like to slobber all over that shit.”
Smoke slipped against my throat and filled my lungs.
I took another hit.
“Damn, man.” Maxwell frowned. “Are you trying to fuck the joint or smoke it?”
I ignored him and smoked some more.
A wave of euphoria washed over me, a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. It was as if the smoke was a key, unlocking a door to a calmer, more detached part of myself. The world slowed down. The sounds of the night morphed into a distant symphony. My muscles relaxed. The tension in my shoulders eased.
All around me, smoke coiled, curled, and danced in eerie wisps.
Maxwell watched me. “You might as well keep that. She’s your woman now.”
I put the joint out and placed it in my pocket. The euphoric haze softening the edges of my reality. “Come on.”
Together, we entered.
It could have been the marijuana, but every step I took felt deliberate, as if I were walking not just into a house, but into the unknown parts of reality.
The wooden floor groaned beneath our feet. The sound echoed through the empty rooms.
Maxwell led the way, his posture rigid.
I followed, my senses heightened.
The sound of drumming and chanting lured me forward.
When we approached the basement door, Maxwell stopped and turned to me. “So. . .”
I quirked my brows. “What?”
Maxwell gazed around as if making sure the space was empty. “Listen, man. We’re going to be a little unconventional right now.”
“What are you talking about?”
Frowning, he sighed. “Hold my hand.”
I sneered. “I am not holding your fucking hand.”
“Yo, I’m not going down that motherfucker unless you hold my hand—”
“Why would I hold your hand—”
“Because I don’t want to end up in another vault room with naked bitches and riches.”
Rage boiled within me. “Stop smoking marijuana.”
He held out his hands. “It’s not the weed, man. This is real shit I’m talking about. I had a messed up experience in this house before when I came here with the Butcher.”
“A room full of bitches and riches?” I shoved him to the side. “Come on, before I push you down the steps and tell my mouse you slipped and fell.”
Maxwell crossed his arms over his chest and stepped back from the door. “I’m not going down there unless you hold my hand.”
“Are you serious?”
“Serious as a newly-shoveled grave.”
Together, we stood at the threshold of the dimly lit basement. The drumming grew louder, sending sinister vibrations up through the soles of my shoes.
I studied that dark abyss beyond the basement door. Chanting rose in the air and. . .something didn’t seem right about it all.
That set my nerves on edge.
A cold shiver crawled up my spine.
The shadows stretched and twisted into sinister shapes, as if mocking our hesitation.
It does look scary, but what is scary. . .to a lion?
Still, I couldn’t shake the unnerving sensation.
The doorway emanated a sense of wrongness that was impossible to ignore.
Maxwell’s breathing hitched. “You feel that shit too. Don’t you?”
I tensed. “I feel something. . .odd coming from there.”
“And your gut is saying turn around?”
It is.
“I love Em, but. . .” Maxwell took another step back. “You’re going to need to hold my hand.”
I frowned and studied the darkness before me.
It was fascinating, the way humans were wired to sense danger, even when it was not immediately visible.
Was it some ancient instinct, buried deep within our DNA, alerting us to the unseen, the hidden threats lurking just out of our sight?
As I stood there, staring into the darkness beyond the door, every primal alarm in my system screamed at me to run the other way.
And this sensation wasn’t based on anything I could see or hear.
It was the vibration in the air.
The shift in the atmosphere.
The eerie, crawling feeling on the back of my neck.
The coldness seeping into my bones.
Maxwell let out a long breath. “We need a voodoo-proof vest or something. In fact, next time Baba should be with us. Wizard against wizard sort of shit.”
“Yeah, and maybe some garlic and a few silver bullets, just in case.”
“You’re over there joking, but if you a had holy cross and some garlic, I would take it from you right now.”
I have to make sure she is okay.
There wasn’t much choice left. Emily was down there somewhere, and no matter what horrors lay ahead, I would never let her face it by herself.
Aggravated, I turned to him and offered the idiot my hand. “We do not discuss this with anyone.”
“Man, you think I’m going to tell people?”
“Just shut up and take my fucking hand.”
“Eh, don’t make this weird.” He grabbed my hand, latching his palm to mine and holding on tightly like he was Paolo.
I shook my head, but on the inside, I was happy he was with me.
While I could have had any of my men come along, Maxwell loved Emily too. And what my mouse needed was people who cared for her, around her while she was in. . .whatever state this was.
Maxwell gave me a sidelong glance as we began to descend into the darkness.
And I could not deny that when we entered the doorway, the experience was akin to stepping into the mouth of an evil beast and then being swallowed.
A heavy chill hung in the air.
The stairwell was a narrow passage, more a gullet of an ancient creature than a man-made structure.
The darkness was so absolute, it was disorientating, leaving me to grope blindly for the railing that was cold and sticky under my fingertips.
The only light was a faint, ghostly blue luminescence that seemed to emanate from nowhere, casting grotesque shadows on the walls that writhed and twisted like tormented souls.
Maxwell whispered, “Are you still with me, man?”
I tightened my grip on the railing. “Shut up and try not to piss yourself.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Let’s see if you talk that shit after you leave here.”
Down and down we went.
The eerie shadows continued to contort around us like living entities.
Then, the temperature dropped further. The air grew frigid.
Next, a scent hit me.
What?
It was the unmistakable, sickly-sweet stink of blood, thick and cloying. A fragrance I knew all too well, one that spoke of death and decay. And it was the smell of a life ending abruptly, violently—the coppery tang of spilled blood mixed with the putrid scent of opened bowels and the lingering aroma of fear and despair.
“Yo,” Maxwell whispered. “Do you smell that?”
“Yes.” I quickened our pace, nearly dragging Maxwell with me.
The smell of blood and death grew stronger, more pungent with each step we took, clinging to the back of my throat.
The walls seemed to close in on us.
My heart pounded in my chest matching the drumming up ahead.
We are almost there.
Then, abruptly, the narrow stairwell opened onto a cavernous room, a vast underground lair that swallowed the feeble blue light.
Here, the smell of blood was overpowering, heavy and thick in the air.
My stomach lurched, rejecting the stench.
A sound echoed through the chamber.
Whimpering.
Dread bolted through me.
I let go of Maxwell’s hand. “My mouse?”
I rushed forward into the gloom, rounded the corner, and saw her.
No!