Chapter Twenty-Two #3
“We should shower,” Shay said, resting his lips on Aiden’s chin. “And take out your stitches before we meet with Kelly.”
“We should, yeah.” Aiden kissed him again, prying at his juicy mouth. “In a minute.”
“In a minute,” Shay echoed. Black slowly drained toward his pupil.
Kelly Angelica Crawford lovingly draped her shawl over the back of her chair. Burlap twined around the bottom of her braid and faceted crystal jewelry hung at different lengths over her satin romper. She tapped coffin-shaped fingernails on a chilled Lemon Drop, glancing between Aiden and Shay.
“So,” she said, arching an eyebrow, “this morning was quite a shit show.”
Aiden chewed on his cheek. “Why is she here?”
“We don’t know it’s her,” Shay said, hope ringing in his voice.
“Oh, it’s her.” Kelly tipped her chin, eyeing Shay. “Laura Rose Noble. Well, I don’t think it’s necessarily her , but whatever has taken hold of her body. It’s complicated. More complicated than I care to understand, especially since I’m not proficient in the language necessary to explain it.”
“Can you ask spirit to explain it then?” Aiden asked.
“Coyness doesn’t suit you, Mister Moore. Frankly, I’d prefer if you got to the point. Why are we here?”
He inhaled a shaky breath and opened his hand in the center of the table.
“I felt like I was drowning last night—this morning, actually. Probably sometime around three. I saw Shay covered in blood, like he’d been ripped apart.
” He glanced from Kelly to his palm and curled his fingers, beckoning her.
“Earlier today, I saw her in a mirror, like. . . like she was me. I think I experienced what she did, felt what she did, and I need you to tell me if I’m going batshit crazy or not. ”
Shay gripped his knee under the table, expression wilting from stoicism to sadness. He stayed quiet, though. Holding Aiden, watching Kelly.
The psychic pursed her lips, studying Aiden’s outstretched hand.
She drew in a breath and laid her fingertips in the dip of his palm.
Her eyes curtained, lips moving around silent words.
The room seemed to empty and go silent. Time paused and the air closed, shrinking toward them.
Suddenly, she gasped, spreading her fingers like a spider.
Her brows pulled together. Glittery pink lips folded into an unpleasant snarl.
Aiden tried to pin-point the tickle of Kelly’s presence in his mind, but she was silent and stealthy, and he found no trace of her. She withdrew, cradling her hand.
“This is out of my depths,” she said. She searched the table, the packed bar and bustling lobby, and drank her martini.
“You’re not crazy, I can tell you that. But you are a damn fool.
” When Aiden tried to speak, she continued.
“Don’t bother asking, because I don’t know what she’s after.
She’s certainly tied to you, though. Tethered, I’d say.
Attracted to the blood that gave her— it —access to a corporeal form.
Now close your mouth and listen, boy. I value my comfortable, blessed life, and I’d like to see it through to its natural end.
” She gave Shay a steady, careful look. “You’ve got something powerful looking after you, keeping you out of trouble despite your inability to stay away from trouble.
I’m not stupid, I know when it’s best to tuck tail and run.
Unfortunately…” She exhaled an irritated breath, scented like citrus and vodka.
“I doubt you’ll allow us to peacefully part ways. ”
“Your instincts aren’t wrong,” Shay said.
“They rarely are. That being said, I have a professional friend—not your sister, relax—who might be able to help you. She’s interesting, to say the least. You’ll be respectful or you’ll regret more than you already do. Understood?”
“Interesting?” Aiden asked. He rested his hands in his lap, pulling at his knuckles and the webbing between his fingers.
What else had she seen? Confessing his love in that dingy Roswell motel?
Shay stitching the gash on his throat with a sewing needle?
Licking blood from Shay’s teeth an hour ago? Invasion sat heavy in his gut.
“To say the least . She’s nothing like that poor little pretend-witch you desecrated in the desert. She’s eager to connect, so stay tuned,” she said.
“Eager?” Aiden asked.
Kelly nodded. “That’s a good thing.”
“Thank you,” Shay said, and lifted a glass to his mouth.
“Nothing’s free, sweetheart. Consider this a line of spiritual credit.
One day, I’ll bill you.” A radiant smile dimpled her cheeks.
“Be well, both of you,” she said, in her ridiculous, hotline-voice.
She swung into her shawl and left the bar, grinning widely at convention-goers.
Oh, yes, hello. Yes, darling, so good to see you.
Your energy is divine, dear. Her cooing faded, engulfed by chatter and suitcase wheels.
Aiden drank his lukewarm beer and stared at the lipstick print on Kelly’s martini glass. “Should we trust her?”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Shay said.
“Think she’ll bait us into a trap?”
“She values her life, like she said.”
“True.”
“You didn’t tell me you saw. . .” Shay gripped Aiden’s thigh, tucking his thumb along the seam of his jeans. “Last night, you didn’t?—”
“Tell you I saw you covered in blood while you were inside me? Yeah, no, I skipped that part, Shay. Can you blame me?”
He blushed and pushed his fingers through his damp, auburn hair, recently colored with dye from a box. “You could’ve, though. You know that. ”
“Yeah, babe. I know. Thank you, I hear you, but there’s not a single universe in existence where I would’ve willingly mentioned it, okay? One, I was more than a little traumatized, two, I’d downed, like, ninety-four cocktails.”
“Ninety-four,” Shay repeated, humming sarcastically. He finished his drink and pushed Aiden’s temple with two fingers as he stood. “You still have all the shit you used for your ritual-thing?”
Aiden almost saved himself some heartache and said no , but he drained his beer, hiccupped, winced, and told the truth. “Some of it. Why?”
“You said Cit’s ritual was similar to yours. That Laura came back because we redirected their intent or something, right? If we can figure out the difference between the two… whatever, spells , I don’t know, then maybe we can figure out how to undo it.”
“We haven’t found a single resource that can tell us what, exactly, you are. Personally, I’m still convinced you’re a Chupacabra,” Aiden said. Shay shushed him and Aiden shushed him back louder. “How are we supposed to figure out how to undo anything?”
“Well, we have a crazy, black-eyed, devil-bitch leaving bodies on our doorstep, so we might as well try,” Shay snapped, voice low and secretive. “Beer or liquor?”
“Both. All. Tell the bartender to drop two shots of tequila into whatever IPA they have on tap.”
“No,” Shay said, point-blank. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay, then get me an IPA and a double Patron, and I’ll do it myself.”
“That’s revolting, Aiden. I’m not letting you?—”
A crisp, familiar voice shot through the air.
“Aiden?” Then a gasp. Great . Called from his childhood like a night terror.
Awesome . Followed by sisterly fury. Here she comes .
“Qué le has heche a tu pelo? Ay dios mio!” Camila Ramírez angrily roped a Metaphysical Assembly lanyard over her head, and rounded the table, jabbing his buzzed hairline with her square, manicured fingernail. “ Why?! ”
“Ow—stop—because I wanted to—seriously, stop ,” he said, and swatted her hand.
“Everyone else said it looks good. Anyway, hi .” Aiden kicked a chair toward her.
“I clearly remember the word convention not assembly. Since when are you into this woo-woo bullshit,” he teased, dodging another mean jab. “Kidding, I’m kidding. Stop!”
Camila dropped into the chair. Her long, midnight hair was slicked into a rose-shaped bun, eyebrows sharply penciled, brick-colored lips lined in maroon. “You look like a gang member,” she said.
“Uh huh, and you look like the icon on a bag of tortillas— don’t! ” He pulled his knee to his chest, dodging a slap.
“I’m here on business. If I don’t look chicana enough, white ladies won’t stock us at their uppity crystal shops. You know how it is. I come to this thing every year—got a booth and everything. You’d know that if you ever helped out at the botanica, no?”
Shay, very quietly, said, “Hey, Cami.”
“Hi, asshole,” she said, without looking at him.
Aiden shot him a tight smile.
“IPA, double patron. Got it,” Shay mumbled, and walked to the bar.
“You should’ve told me that ticket was for you. I thought you were asking for a friend,” he said, frowning. “So, you’re promoting the store? Selling rosaries and Mama’s wax figures?”
“Yeah, believe it or not. Candles, rosaries, herb packets, books, all the good stuff. I’m on a few panels, too.
Monetizing Mexican American Witchcraft and Practical Santeria.
Got one tonight, actually. You could come,” she said, hopeful.
She crossed one leg over the other, creasing her black, floral dress, embroidered like a modern huipil.
He shook his head. “I’ve got rehearsal. What about breakfast tomorrow?”
This time, she shook her head. “Got an early morning social with first time attendees. New blood, you know? Potential buyers.” She narrowed her eyes, staring at his neck. “What’s that?”
“What?”
Camila flicked the bandage covering the freshly unstitched knife-mark on his throat. “That.”
“It’s nothing.” Thankfully, the new fang-prints were hidden by his choker. He batted her away.
“What is it? Tell me,” she said, and reached out to flick him again.
“A hickey! It’s a hickey. Christ, Cami. Enough .”
“Oh, right,” she murmured, and switched her gaze to Shay, who took his time at the bar. “How could I forget. You have two braincells, you know that? He’s dangerous, Aiden. You’ve got your water, yeah? I’ll give you more while I’m here?—”
“Ease up about it, all right? And I’ve got three braincells, at least.”
“Take this.” She dug into her purse and dropped a black paperback—Defiéndase Con El Diablo: Magia Negra—onto the table between them. “We’ll be carrying this volume and two others by the same author next month. It’s good. Informative. Take it .”
Aiden rolled his eyes but snared the book with two fingers and dragged it toward him. “Gracias,” he said, sarcastically.
She snorted. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re bein’ good, yeah? Stayin’ out of trouble? Mama’ll kill you, hermano. I’m not kidding.” She kissed him on the cheek, and he wrapped his arms around her .
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Love you, see you tomorrow.”
“Read that book,” Camila said, and thumbed lipstick off his face. I don’t believe you, her eyes said, and he remembered how difficult it was to lie to her. She scrubbed her palm over his buzzed head before she walked away, black lace flowing behind her, woven by their mother.