Kill Her Again (A Thriller) (34 page)

Madam Zala had been gone for more than a moment. Closer to five minutes, actually.

“Probably making sure the bills aren’t counterfeit,” Pope said.

Then a toilet flushed somewhere inside the house and a few seconds later the curtain of beads parted with a rattle as Madam Zala returned, taking a seat opposite them.

She was carrying something wrapped in a blue scarf.

Anna shot Pope a glance, knowing he must be thinking that this was a waste of time. But she was convinced that Susan had written the name on the back of Chavi’s photograph for a reason, and the least she could do was let this thing play out, for better or worse.

Madam Zala reached to a dimmer switch on the wall behind her and turned the lights low, then lit the candle and moved it to one side.

Placing the scarf at the center of the table, she unwrapped it to reveal a deck of tarot cards, which she extended to Anna.

“Please shuffle them.”

Anna took the cards. There were twenty or so, but they were larger than normal and handling them felt a bit awkward. She did her best to shuffle them, then handed them back to Madam Zala.

The woman squared the cards. “You have a question for me?”

“Question?” Anna asked.

“Most who come here seek answers, yes? Without a question, the cards cannot guide you.” She glanced at Pope, then returned her gaze to Anna. “Something about your love life, perhaps?”

“I just want to know my future,” Anna said.

“That could cover many things. Is there something specific you’re concerned about?”

Anna thought about this. “There’s someone new in my life. A stranger. Can you tell me about him?”

Madam Zala nodded, then cut the deck and dealt several cards faceup on the table, arranging them in an elaborate layout. Each card carried a number in the corner, along with daggers and swords and naked goddesses and New Agey symbols. Anna had no idea what any of it meant.

“The Major Arcana,” Madam Zala said. “Each represents one of life’s journeys.” She pointed to a card, showing a man with a wand. “The Magician represents the journey of will. You have been weakened by recent events, only to gather strength and rally, your will growing stronger with each passing hour.”

She pointed to another card, showing an old bearded man. “But the Hermit crosses before you, representing caution. Fear. Prudence. Ignore him at your peril.”

Then another card, this one showing a man hanging upside down from a tree. “The Hanged Man,” she continued. “The symbol of sacrifice. To achieve the goal you wish to achieve your sacrifice will be great. Perhaps greater than you’re willing to accept.”

“What does any of this have to do with the stranger?” Anna asked.

“Patience,” the woman said, then pointed to yet another card. A skeleton holding a scythe. “Here is your stranger. The Death card. He is the cause of these things. The reason you have been put to the test.”

Anna sucked in a breath.

“But do not fear,” Madam Zala continued. “This card merely represents change. Transformation. Your life has been altered in significant ways, and you must adapt and change or suffer the consequences.”

Anna now wished that she had simply gone for the direct approach. She’d always thought of fortune-telling as a con game, designed to part unsuspecting fools from their money. What Madam Zala had just told her, however, was eerily accurate. Then again, it was also fairly generic and might apply to anyone who sat in this chair.

Enough of this, Anna thought. Time to get down to business.

Taking the photo of Chavi out of her pocket, she laid it on the table.

“What about this one?” she asked. “What does she represent?”

Madam Zala froze, staring at the photo, then her head jerked up, her gaze meeting Anna’s. “Who are you?”

“A woman on a journey,” Anna said, then unfolded the
Temptress and Slave
print-out and placed it in front of Madam Zala, pointing to the boy in the wagon. “And this is the stranger I seek.”

Madam Zala’s eyes widened. She jumped to her feet, nearly knocking her chair over as she backed away from the table. The candle wobbled, threatening to fall.

“Jozef!” she shouted. “Jozef, get your ass out here! Now!” Her accent had mysteriously disappeared. “Hurry, Jozef! It’s her! She’s here!”

They heard the pounding of heavy steps on a wooden floor, then the beaded curtain parted with a sharp snap as a large, twentysomething lunk stuck his head into the room. In a dark alley, Anna might have mistaken him for Red Cap.

“What’s wrong, Ma?”

“Get them out of here! Get her out of this house!”

Clenching and unclenching his fists, the lunk moved toward them aggressively, and Pope rose to meet him. “Easy, pal.”

But the lunk ignored the suggestion, grabbing a handful of Pope’s shirt as—

—Anna quickly reached back and brought her Glock out, pointing it at him. “FBI! Let him go.”

The lunk’s face went white at the sight of the weapon and he released Pope’s shirt, stepping back to join his mom, who was now flat against the wall, her eyes narrowed in anger.

“What do want from us? Why did you come here?”

“The photo,” Anna said. “Tell us about the boy in the photo.”

“I don’t know anything about him.”

“Bullshit.”

“I swear to you, I’ve never seen him before.”

“Then why did you react that way? Like you recognized him?”

“You startled me, that’s all. When I’m in the middle of a reading, I’m deep in concentration and—”

—a shout from the back of the house cut her off. “Stop, Tatjana! Stop with the lies!”

It was a woman’s voice, the interruption so unexpected that they all froze in place.

“Bring her back to me,” she shouted. “I want to see her face.”

“But, Mother—”

“Don’t argue with me, girl! What have I told you about that?” Madam Zala, or Tatjana, or whatever her name was, lowered her gaze to the floor, then gathered herself, looking at Anna.

“You won’t need the gun,” she said. “It won’t protect you from the truth.”

4
4

T
HE OLD WOMAN
was the size of a small tent.

Sitting on a daybed in a poorly lit room, she was so enormous that it would take a crane to lift her off of it. Anna had seen people like this on the news and in movies, but she wasn’t prepared for the real thing.

The room had a gamey smell. A hint of urine. A walker stood at the foot of the bed, but Anna doubted it had been used in recent memory. The bedpan beneath it, however, obviously got regular workouts.

The sight made Anna’s stomach churn with revulsion and she was pretty sure her expression showed it.

“I am what I am,” the old woman said. “Think what you will.”

She was close to eighty years old, with dirty gray hair and stark brown eyes. That she’d lived this long without succumbing to a heart attack or some obesity-related illness was a miracle.

Glancing around, Anna saw that, unlike the previous room, this one was filled with framed photographs. On the wall, on tabletops. Photos of family and friends, including reproductions of some of the O’Keefe prints she’d seen online. But newer ones, too. A chronicle spanning decades. The old woman had surrounded herself with the history of her life.

And on the wall, just to the right of the daybed, was a framed blowup of the photo of Chavi.

“My name,” she said, “is Antonija Zala. Madam Zala to the
gadje
.” She lifted a finger and wiggled it at Anna. “Come closer, child. I want to see your eyes.”

Anna glanced back at Pope, who stood near the doorway with the lunk and his mother. They no longer seemed to be a threat, having given themselves over to the will of the old woman. They were afraid of her. And Anna wondered if she should be afraid, too.

As if reading her mind, the old woman said, “You’ve nothing to fear. Come closer.”

Anna hesitated, another wave of revulsion passing through her, then did as she was told. The old woman stared intently at her eyes as she approached, recognition spreading across her face.

“Ahhh, yes,” she said. “I knew he had found you again. He wasn’t certain at first, didn’t want to make another mistake, so he held back. But he knows now. He knows you’re the one.”

Anna couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “How could you possibly know all that?”

“I have the gift, child. How else?”

“And he
told
you this?”

“Not in words,” the old woman said. “And not in this world. But in the nether. In the spaces between time.”

“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“That I can sometimes read Mikola’s thoughts.”

“That’s his name? Mikola?”

The old woman smiled. “You have so much to remember, my dear.”

“Then quit being so goddamn cryptic,” Anna said, her frustration bubbling over. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Calm down, girl. You have no enemies here.”

“Then answer my question.” She showed the old woman the print-out, pointing again to the boy crouched inside the wagon. “Is this him? Is this Mikola?”

The old woman didn’t look at it.

Simply nodded.

“What does he want with me? My soul? Is that what he’s after?”

Another nod.

“But
why
?” Anna asked. “Who
is
he?”

“He’s Roma,” the old woman said. “Blood.”

“What do you mean he’s blood?”

Antonija Zala smiled again, patiently, the folds of fat in her chins jiggling with the effort.

“He’s family, my dear. He’s your brother.”

A
NNA SAID NOTHING
.

Feeling as if her legs might give out, she found a chair nearby and sat.

Her brain felt numb.

“Let me tell you a story,” the old woman said. She shifted on the bed, grunting with the effort. “It’s the story of two children, conjoined twins, you might say. But it isn’t a body they share. No organs. No limbs. But something far more vital than any human shell could ever be.”

“A soul,” Anna said. “They share a soul.”

Antonija Zala smiled again. “That’s right, my dear. They were born many years ago, to a family of Rom. Our family. The Zala family. The Zala clan had traveled for many a decade, then finally found their way back home to Slavonia, to a city called Osijek.

“When one of the wives, my great-grandmother Natasa, became pregnant by her husband, Nikolai, there was much joy in the family. But at the moment of birth, those present knew something was seriously wrong.

“There were two children in Natasa’s womb. One, the girl, was quite beautiful. Pristine, in fact. They named her Chavi.

“But the boy, he did not fare as well during the birth. He was small, sickly, with a deformed face and body. He was, they thought, possessed by demons, and those who saw him that morning did not expect him to live.

“He was taken into the forest and left to the elements, his father weeping as he laid the boy under a tree. And when Nikolai returned to camp, he found that little Chavi was crying as well, tears that had not stopped since her brother was taken from her side.

“She cried through the night, her little face red with anguish. But the deed was done. The boy had been given to the angels.

“Or so they thought.”

The old woman paused, shifting again on the daybed.

“When Nikolai returned the next day to the spot where he had left his son, he was surprised to discover that the boy was still alive. The temperature during the night had dropped below freezing, and Nikolai knew it could not be possible, yet there he was, crying angrily, just as Chavi had cried. And he knew that the boy had been warmed by Chavi’s tears.

“Not knowing what else to do, Nikoli picked him up and carried him back to camp. At first the family celebrated. It was a miracle, given to them by God. But then the whispers started. Perhaps God did not have a hand in the boy’s survival after all. Perhaps it was the Devil. The demons that possessed him.

“But all Nikolai and Natasa knew was that their little beauty, their Chavi, was no longer crying.

“As the years passed, the twins became inseparable. It was said that they not only shared blood, but were two parts of the same wheel. The boy, Mikola, had trouble walking, but he would follow Chavi wherever she went. And while Chavi was doted on by members of the family and their friends, Mikola was often ignored, unless there was a chore to be done. A task to be completed.

“The Zala family had always been a powerful clan. Tales of their magic were known throughout the region, some true, some exaggerations of the truth. And as she grew into a lovely young woman, Chavi discovered that she had powers far greater than anyone else in the family.