Penumbra (The Midnight Society #2) (17 page)

He turned his attention back to Isadora who seemed to take pleasure in our situation. She had a smirk on her face.

“Mr. Sparrow, I cannot return the three million to you that is currently in play. It was the agreement I had with Beau.” Isadora said. “However I
can
give you three million out of my own pocket.”

“That’d be most gracious of you,” Lincoln said. “But I assume there’s a catch to this.”

“Isn’t there always?” Isadora replied.

He let out an exasperated sigh and nodded. “What do you want?”

“A business partnership with the Midnight Society,” she replied. “I have a new business venture starting up, and I would like to have your organization’s influence in helping me get it off the ground.”

Lincoln shook his head. “We have nothing to contribute right now, as you can see,” he said. “We’re scraping pennies off the sidewalk here.”

“This is a temporary setback,” she replied. “I’m confident that in few years, you’ll be the world-influencing empire that you once were. I’d love nothing more than to have your organization back my new business in both social and financial influence.”

“What are you selling?” Lincoln asked.

Her smile was full of mischief, one that made me think she was serving up a big slice of trouble pie for us to eat.

“The greatest profit turning business in the world,” she replied, “Faith. I want to sell my voodoo to the world. But first, I need one of you to believe. I need one of you to get in bed with your ghosts.”

#

Chapter Nineteen

Aria

Sleep with my ghosts? This chick had read one-too-many paranormal romance books. From the amused look on Lincoln’s face, it seemed like he agreed with me.

“Look, I appreciate the offer of you giving us the cash out of your own wallet but—”

“Do you think voodoo is a joke?” Isadora asked.

Beau spoke up. “No ma’am,” he replied. “I’ve seen enough shit in this life to know that sometimes black is white and up is down. I’d be damned if the cause of that didn’t come from something existential—something spiritual.”

I couldn’t help but suspect Beau was kissing her ass just so he could tap it later.

Isadora looked at Lincoln. “What about you?”

Lincoln shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll believe in anything that ends up with money in my pocket.”

Isadora shook her head. “That’s not enough.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Don’t get me wrong, I do believe in the existence of spiritual entities and higher order,” Lincoln began, “But if you expect me to suddenly put
all
my faith into voodoo and magic, it’s a stretch for me. I’m being realistic here.”

She didn’t seem to like his answer and was quick to brush him off, turning her attention to me instead. “What about you?” she asked. “Do you believe in spirits?”

It sounded preposterous.

“Yes,” I lied.

“Do you believe in my magic?”

I shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

Isadora smiled. “Are you willing to prove your belief then?”

“What do I have to do?”

“Take a leap of faith,” she replied, “And allow yourself to succumb to the spirits. It’s the spirits that are the true essence of voodoo.”

I didn’t see the harm in playing along. It was all just a bunch of smoke and mirrors anyway.

“Lucy—” Lincoln began.

Isadora was quick to cut him off. “Tomorrow night, there will be a wedding,” she said. “I’d like for all of you to attend. It will be a wonderful celebration filled with food, music, alcohol, and of course magic.” She turned and looked at me. “Before the ceremony, I’d like you to meet with me privately and experience my brand of voodoo. Only once you’ve experienced it can you truly believe.”

She turned to Lincoln. “Tell your boss I do not expect any of you to convert to the religion in which I offer,” Isadora said. “But I do want him to acknowledge its existence, to know that what I do is real. Once Lucy has experienced the spirituality of my beliefs, I want the Midnight Society to endorse the Lalonde branch of voodoo as a respected form of religion.”

“So, all you want is to be acknowledged as a legitimate faith?”

Isadora nodded. “Yes,” she replied. “And for that I need social influence and political backing, both of which the Midnight Society once had.”

“Had is the key word,” Lincoln replied. “As you mentioned, it’ll be a while before we can regain all that back. We are starting at ground zero.”

“I am very patient,” Isadora said, unconcerned.

“Religion is also a very tough sell,” Lincoln replied. “Especially since the entire concept of voodoo is based around ghosts and spirits and other creatures of the night.”

“The Christian faith believes in spirits as well,” Isadora pointed out, “The holy spirit being at the center of Christianity.”

“The lady’s got a point,” Beau said. “The Christian faith does have its savior preaching about eating his body, drinking his blood, and rising from the dead. That’s some crazy vampire shit.”

“I’ll continue to ignore you,” Lincoln sighed, turning his attention back to Isadora. “I don’t think it can be done, forging a business empire with the type of belief you’re offering.”

Isadora scowled, not impressed by Lincoln’s skepticism. “Scientology believes that evil alien overlord spirits inhabit your body. The key to getting rid of them is to pay them hundreds of thousands of dollars,” she stated. “They are very wealthy.”

Lincoln paused for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. “Well Isadora, you got me there. I retract my statement. I guess there is room for a venture into a business of the religious nature. My boss can be convinced.”

Isadora smiled. “Then it is agreed,” she said as she turned to my direction. “Lucy will participate in one of my private voodoo blessings. Once she’s experienced my faith, the Midnight Society will become the benefactor of my religious expansion. In return, I shall deliver you three million dollars out of my own pocket.”

“Those terms are acceptable, with the exception of Lucy being involved in one of your voodoo ceremonies,” Lincoln replied, “Especially without me being there.”

Isadora shook her head. “Those are the terms. I will not do business with an organization that does not believe in what I have to offer.”

“What if I took her place?” Beau asked.

Isadora shook her head. “No,” she replied. “It has to be her.”

She seemed hell-bent on using me for whatever strange ritual she had planned. I was nervous.

However if this was the only way for Lincoln to get what we needed—

“I’ll do it,” I said.

“Lucy?” Lincoln had a look of concern on his face. He was about to say something, but I hushed him.

“I said I’ll do it,” I replied.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “I’m sure there’s another way.”

I shook my head. Isadora looked like a woman who had made up her mind. I knew there was no way in hell that was going to change.

“You’re sure about this?” Lincoln asked.

I nodded.

“Splendid then,” Isadora said as she rose from her seat and extended her hand to me. That was when Beau whispered in my ear—though in a tone that was still audible for everyone in the room.

“Don’t let her shake your hand. If she scrapes your skin cells underneath her fingernails, she can use it to construct a voodoo doll and stab you in your sleep.”

Isadora looked at Beau as if he had a set of nuts growing out from under his chin.

I had to admit, Beau had me a little scared. I scrunched my hand into a fist and pointed it at her.

“Fist bump?” I asked.

Isadora shot me an angry look too. “Whatever,” she replied, ignoring my fist entirely, clearly offended. “You can ask Delilah for a wedding invitation on the way out. Come three hours before. Now if you would excuse me…”

She didn’t bother finishing her sentence. I could tell she wanted us to leave as soon as possible.

“Good night,” Lincoln said, doing his best to stay in her good graces.

She nodded, without saying a word.

Before we left the Voodoo Shop, we stopped by Delilah, whose warm smile was as welcoming as the afternoon sun in comparison to Isadora’s icy glare.

“We were told to pick up a wedding invitation?” Lincoln asked.

“Oh, of course,” she said as she reached underneath the counter and pulled out a big, golden envelope sealed with red wax. “I’m so glad you folks are coming. It’s going to be one amazing night.”

“I’m sure it will,” Beau said as he leaned forward, “especially if you’ll be there.”

Delilah pushed him back with one index finger, a smile still on her face. “Why of course I’ll be there silly. I am getting married after all.”

Beau sighed as he removed himself from her personal space. “What a shame,” he replied. “And suddenly another prize fish is removed from the sea.”

“I’ll see you at the wedding,” she smirked.

“Congratulations,” Lincoln said to Delilah, just before we left. “Love is a beautiful thing to find.”

And it was a tragic thing to lose as well, I thought to myself.

#

For the most part, we walked back to Beau’s place in silence. It wasn’t until our feisty Cajun opened his mouth that sparks started to fly. 

“Five million return,” he said as he rubbed his stubbly chin. “I think ol’ Donald would have been proud of me.”

Lincoln shook his head. “He would have called you an idiot,” he snapped back.

“I beg your pardon?”

“That money was a safety net for the Midnight Society. The purpose of it was to be available to us if and when we needed it,” Lincoln said. “But instead of keeping it safe and sitting on it—which was your only task—you got bored and decided to hand it over to the Kingpin of Crime in New Orleans.”

“Relax Mr. Sparrow,” Beau said. “We’re getting the money back, aren’t we?”

“We are, but at what cost now?” Lincoln asked. “We’re locked into a partnership with a woman who, according to rumors, is a ruthless psychopath that dabbles in pagan magic for her side job.”

“For all we know, voodoo could be legit.”

“I’m not disputing that,” Lincoln said as he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned and looked Beau straight in the eye. “The bottom line is, you’re incompetent and if your dad were alive to see you now, he’d slap you upside the head.”

For the first time since our first meeting, I saw anger creep across Beau’s face that was directed towards us. It was rather unsettling.

“I don’t appreciate the noise that’s coming out of your mouth.”

“Too bad,” Lincoln replied.

The tension between the two was strong enough to catapult a cow into space. Perhaps it was time for me to step in before their testosterone took complete control of their brain cells and they started eating each other’s fists. 

“Let’s just leave this alone. Beau, you made a bad judgment call, but no harm done,” I replied. “I’m certainly not one who should judge someone else’s bad decisions.”

I bit my lip as I recalled that night when I told Justin everything I knew about the Midnight Society.

The punishment for violating the sanctity of our little secret is death—to you and the person you divulge to,
Calisto had warned me. If only I wasn’t so naïve back then and I had taken that warning seriously.

“Here’s where you’re wrong pretty girl,” Beau said. “I didn’t make a bad judgment call. The way I see it, we have an extra two million to use for the resurrection of this clubhouse of ours along with a powerful new ally. With the reputation Isadora has—Mr. Friday has—you don’t think the bad guys will think twice before they take a run at us?”

Lincoln shook his head and began walking again, clearly frustrated. “You don’t get it,” he said. “The Midnight Society isn’t about aligning ourselves with the most dangerous person out there. It’s about keeping people we can trust.”

“Well ain’t that a funny thing then,” Beau began, “Seeing as how I heard Shadow’s own sister was the one who crushed the Midnight Society.”

Lincoln didn’t respond.

We stopped just outside of the Angel’s Trumpet. Beau fished into his pockets for the key to his store.

“And here’s another question for you, Mr. Sparrow,” Beau said as he unlocked the door. “Who the hell are you really? For someone who says they’re just a runner for the Midnight Society, you seem to have a lot of influence in regards to the high level decision making that needs to be done. I think you’ve been lying to me all this time.”

Once inside, Lincoln waited for the door to close behind him before he pulled out his gun and pointed it at Beau.

I was stunned.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“My name is Lincoln Richards,” he said, ignoring my question, “And as promised, I have delivered myself to you.”

The look on Beau’s face was unmistakable—pure, unhinged anger.

Suddenly I had a bad feeling that when the door of the Angel’s Trumpet opened again, not all of us were walking out of there alive.

#