Spell For Sophia (23 page)

"It's almost New Year's Eve," I fretted. "We can't wait too long, or the best boots will be gone."

"We'll get to the mall before they run out."

"You're still spending the night, right? Wait until you see the guest room!"

She twisted her ring. "You sure? I could sleep on the daybed in your room."

My cheeks warmed. "There is a high probability I'll be up all night with nightmares after everything I saw today and after what Mom just told us. So—"

"I get it." She stood. "Give me the grand tour. And don't forget the media room. We might need to watch a fun movie or something to calm ourselves down. We can keep you laptop open in case Sophia emails you."

I rose, grateful for her understanding. Yemaya had been right. Looks could be deceiving.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sophia

"Wake up!" Bayou shouted.

"Huh?" My eyes flew open. Headlights filled the windshield and the flash of high beams blinded me. A car horn blasted in warning. My heart thundered.

"Take the wheel and pull to the right!"

With a shriek I scooted to the edge of my seat, grabbed the steering wheel, and yanked.

"Not so hard! You'll lose control."

Too late. The hybrid swerved to the right. Breaux, who had been slumped against the driver's side door, slid toward me. His seatbelt locked, pinning him to the seatback. The headlights from the oncoming car angled off as it zoomed past.

"Ease up!"

"How?" I screamed, realizing we were about to die and a ghost was my copilot. I glanced down long enough to see Breaux's ankles crossed and his feet tangled in the pedals. My brain switched to rapid upload. We were on a main road, on a collision course with a well lit, highly flammable gas station.

"Crap!" I jerked the wheel left, overcorrecting. The hybrid fishtailed into the oncoming lane. Breaux's head bobbed. I snatched at the denim above his knee and pulled. His feet remained stuck. "Breaux! Help me!"

He woke with a snort. His eyes bugged. "Holy—!" He clutched the steering wheel. I moved out of the way and braced against the dashboard as he steered into the swerve, maneuvering the car back into the correct lane. Ahead, the traffic light changed from green to yellow. Breaux fought to free his feet. His knees jerked at odd angles and he called out to Saint Christopher and Mother Mary. The light advanced to red. I scanned the intersection for other cars and reinforced the protection spell around the car.

"Sit back!" Breaux ordered.

"Don't yell!" I scooted backward until I rested against the seatback. The seatbelt, which had been fully extended, retracted.

"Everyone chill!" Bayou fretted.

Breaux disentangled his feet and stepped on the brake. His right arm shot across me, protecting me until the seatbelt locked and pinned me against the seat. We skidded through the empty intersection, through the red light, and came to a halt in the middle of the road. Breaux blinked a couple of times and continued gripping the steering wheel with both hands. "You okay?"

I hugged my ribs and inhaled the stench of burnt rubber and swamp water. "I will be as soon as my heart slows down."

"You and me both."

"You two are going to be the second death of me." Bayou fanned her face with her hand, spraying swamp water. "I'm going to book now. Bye." She vanished before I could thank her.

"We better get out of the street." Breaux glanced over his shoulder, then pulled into a parking space on the side of the road and cut the engine. He stared at me wild-eyed, his chest heaving. Then he crossed his arms over the steering wheel and squashed his forehead against his arm. "Ouch." His head jerked up and he fingered his forgotten head wound.

I blinked back tears. "I thought you were dead. When you wouldn't wake up…"

"I'm so sorry." He unbuckled his seatbelt and wiped away my tear with his thumb.

I clasped his arm. "No. I'm sorry. This whole thing has been my fault."

He cradled my face and shook his head. Then the corners of his lips curved upward. "Longest day ever."

Verging on hysteria, I giggled. "Fastest decade ever."

"I hope we're back in our own time." He released me and slumped in his seat. "When we get safely back to
Maman's
house, I'm going to sleep for a decade."

"Seriously." I stared out the windshield at the few cars parked along the street.
I'll allow myself to stay at Miss Wanda's for a day, maybe two. Long enough to tell her about Mam'zelle, call Ainslie, and say goodbye to Breaux.
I'd figure out the rest after I got some sleep.

Breaux twisted on the seat and faced me. "I wonder why I lost most of my clairvoyance after we time travelled."

"Maybe because of—" I pointed to his bloody head wound. "I'll catch you up on what you missed. But first I require food and a bathroom, and not necessarily in that order." I pointed up the street to an illuminated yellow sign with red lettering. "There's the all-night diner."

"Thank the saints." He hefted the car keys in his hand. "We're walking."

"No kidding." I reached for my seatbelt buckle.

Breaux clasped my wrist. "I… " He shook his head.

I pressed my fingers to his lips, then hugged him. "Ow." I retreated, clutching my ribs.

"We're a mess. Think we can hobble to the restaurant?" Breaux asked.

"We either head there or crawl to the nearest hospital."

"Food first," Breaux insisted.

****

The nearly empty diner smelled of eggs and fried meat. One whiff and my empty stomach yowled like a feral cat. A middle-aged African-American waitress greeted us at the door. "Howdy y'all. Just two tonight?"

"Yes, please," we said.

"Table or booth?"

Breaux shrugged and hunched his shoulders as though he were too dazed to decide.

"Booth." I figured Breaux could nap on the bench seat while we waited for our food.

She frowned at Breaux's bloody bandana and led us to a back booth where I guess she figured we wouldn't scare or nauseate the other four customers. "My name is Bernita. I'll give you two a moment," she said before leaving.

"I want everything on here," Breaux said, examining the plastic menu.

"Me, too." I pulled out the twenty-dollar bill and examined it under the bright light. It appeared legit. For a sec I had worried it would be like fairy gold and turn into leaves or something.

"I still have some money," Breaux said, counting out seventeen dollars in fives and ones.

When Bernita returned, he ordered the fried steak and eggs skillet from the value menu and an iced tea.

"Breakfast special," I ordered. "Eggs scrambled, bacon crisp, hash browns, and orange juice. Can I get hot chocolate instead of coffee?"

"Sure thing. Anything else?"

"Extra butter on the pancakes?" I asked.

"You got it, hon." She pursed her lips at Breaux. "I'll be right back with your drinks."

After Bernita left I said, "I think she's squeamish about blood."

Breaux picked at the bandana. "Does it look as bad as it feels?"

"Worse. Avoid mirrors if gore makes you queasy." I stood. "Speaking of mirrors, I'm going to run to the ladies' room. Guard our money. And if the food gets here before I return, start without me."

"Don't worry. I will."

As I walked to the bathroom, the two couples seated near the door rose to leave. While they shrugged into their coats and said good night to the cashier, I palmed a knife from a vacant table and slid it up my sleeve. A quick left turn brought me to an alcove leading to the restrooms and a small banquet room. Once inside the ladies' room, I transferred the knife to my waist sheath.

After quickly using the facilities and washing my hands, I winced at my reflection. Breaux wasn't the only one who should avoid mirrors. I hoped I hadn't appeared this hollow-eyed and traumatized when Ainslie had seen me. Since my hairbrush was in the backpack on the floor of the locked hybrid, I tried finger-combing the front tangles. I gave up after the first snarl and splashed water on my face to wake myself up. The scarf binding my ribs seemed to add a few pounds to my slender frame. I debated removing it, but then remembered how Breaux had tenderly wrapped it around me. My cheeks heated and I left it as it was.

Afraid I had dawdled too long, I slipped out of the bathroom and strode to the dark banquet room. The doorknob rotated in my hand. Some of the tension in my shoulders unraveled as I sneaked inside. Stale air filled my lungs. I moved away from the interior windows so I wouldn't be seen by anyone in the alcove.

I unsheathed the table knife and balanced it in my palm. The near head-on collision had cinched it. No longer would I drag my parents' bad mojo around like a debris trail. It had been bad enough when their drug-fueled lives had caused me injury. Now their bad choices and bad karma had forced me on the run as if I were the criminal, not them. Their bad mojo had become my bad mojo, and it almost had gotten Breaux killed. For all I knew it had caused Mam'zelle's death.

I sensed the bad energy gathering like a category four psychic storm. I had to put a stop to it. Time had run out. I couldn't wait for the ideal place and a real silver knife.

I forced the stale air deep into my lungs and then released it. "I hereby invoke the Hermetic Law of Similarity, with this table knife representing a sterling silver knife." I conjured up an image of the sterling silver knife I had worn at my waist until I had dropped it in Mam'zelle's magic room. I projected every detail I remembered about the silver knife onto the restaurant knife: its weight and the pattern engraved on the handle, the engraver's marks.

Raising the knife above my head, I tried to remember who and what I had been before my soul had chosen
Mamá
and
Papá
to be my parents. What lesson had I agreed to learn from being their daughter?

The answers came to me.

The table knife pulsed with the power of nearly pure silver.

I began to cut the cords.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"There you are." Breaux's tone radiated relief. "I was about to storm the ladies' bathroom and see if you'd fainted or something."

I scooted around Bernita, who had just set our meal on the table, and slid into the booth. Steam rose from the eggs and Breaux's steak sizzled. I inhaled, intoxicated. The bacon smelled like sleepover breakfasts at Ainslie's house. "I did get a little lightheaded."
During the cord cutting.

"Get some protein and water in you," Bernita mothered. "Your young man mentioned you'd had a rough day." She glanced about the empty restaurant, then reached into her apron pocket and withdrew a roll of surgical gauze and an oversized bandage. She leaned toward Breaux and placed the medical supplies in his hand. "I borrowed these from the employee first aid kit. I'll replace them on my next shift. Y'all look like you could use a clean dressing."

Breaux blinked up at her. "Ma'am, I am much obliged. And I do apologize for my appearance."

"We were in a boating accident," I explained.

"I'm sure you were." She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "But if you were in some kind of trouble of, say, the legal persuasion, I could call my son. He's a police officer and as honest and trustworthy as they come. He often stops in during his shift."

"Thank you, ma'am. Good to know," Breaux said.

She straightened up. "Well, y'all look half-starved. Anything else I can get for ya?"

"No, ma'am," we said in unison. "Thank you."

"Just let me know." With a final concerned glance she walked to the front to greet some newcomers.

Breaux stashed the bandages in his hoodie pocket. "Unless you are super grossed out, I'll clean up after we eat."

I picked up a piece of bacon. "Are you kidding? Eat! Nothing could stop me from devouring everything on this plate." The cord cutting had left me dazed, as though dark, sticky pieces had been scraped away and set adrift. I needed time to recalibrate. My hand trembled as I lifted my fork. Bernita was right. I needed protein.

I ate clockwise around the plate, devouring the eggs, then the hash browns. Breaux pointed his fork at my plate. "If you decide you don't want your pancakes, let me know."

I wanted them, but I cut off a wedge and placed it on his bread plate. It was worth the sacrifice to see his exhausted features light up. "Steak?" he asked, offering me a bite.

"No thanks." I broke off a piece of bacon. "You need to build up your strength."

"And you don't?" He glanced at my trembling hand.

"I'll be fine."

When he finished, he excused himself and headed for the bathroom. I lifted the white mug containing my hot cocoa to my lips. Breaux strode toward the front, then veered at the midway point to access the restroom.

A fresh aftershock shuddered through me. Cocoa spilled over the edge of the mug.
He could have died. I could have lost him.
My heart tore.
He's going to be a member of Congress. I'm…

Anger flashed, warming my cheeks. Mam'zelle had been wrong. I had cut the cords. My parents no longer defined me. My circumstances no longer defined me.
I
defined me. Maybe Breaux had been right. Maybe Mam'zelle had sent us on this ordeal to show us what was possible. If so, I wondered what possibilities she had foreseen for me.

I blotted the hot chocolate drips with my napkin. Three latecomers who had eaten pie at the counter paid their bill and left. The front door pushed open and two men strode in. Spying them, my nerves crystallized into jagged shards of ice. I sank low in the booth, keeping the mug in front of my face. With my free hand, I pulled my sweatshirt hood over my knit cap and windblown hair.

The drug lord with the oil-slick hair and acne-pocked face acknowledged Bernita's greeting and asked for a booth toward the back, away from the windows. His underling, the guy who had piloted the motorboat, plucked a toothpick from the dispenser by the cash register. Then Bernita led them my way.

Crap!
My hands grew clammy and my heart raced like a bullet train about to derail. I swiveled in the booth, lifting the menu from behind the napkin holder. Sitting sidewise, I pretended to study the dessert menu. Bernita had yet to clear our dishes. I eyed Breaux's steak knife.