Chapter Ten
“Voodoo? I thought that was only in New Orleans and mostly urban legend designed to draw tourists. The dolls, the blood sacrifices and all that stuff. There’s someone around here?”
Merck hoped this consultation didn’t go south, getting one of them hexed or possessed. He wouldn’t let it happen. He could handle a voodoo mambo.
“It always seemed so dark in the movies. What should I expect?”
“I can’t be sure with Lola. Sometimes it’s spirit conjuring. Sometimes spell casting or reading various signs. Depends on her mood and how much she wants to show off.”
“She’s reliable?”
“She’s given me good information in the past, but I don’t trust anyone who uses any sort of death to power spells, even if Lola only uses animals.”
Shannon crossed her arms and hugged herself, staring out the side window.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know you won’t,” she whispered.
The trust in her voice kicked him in the gut. He’d get her through this. Smarter would be not to take her at all, but she wouldn’t go for being dumped somewhere close by, but safe, twice.
Merck hummed along with the country tune on the radio to fill the awkward silence that settled between them. Last week his life had been under control. He’d been captain of a sinking ship scheduled to wreck soon. He convinced himself he was fine to go down with the ship. He even had a night-before-death plan, which involved a lot of alcohol with Chad and Danny. Now, he’d lost the captainship. He’d become a passenger clinging to the rails in a hurricane.
His mind kept going back to the rune symbol of love and harmony. It might mean Shannon. Maybe Bythos really did mean his best life-saving scenario involved tying the knot. He hadn’t said a clear no to matrimony. He’d only indicated Merck needed to protect Shannon.
Sweat trickled down his back. The thought of the commitment, to honor and protect, one woman scared the hell out of him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t commit if he survived beyond this week. He feared he couldn’t ensure her safety from the evils he was eternity-bound to chase. He couldn’t opt out of being the Enforcer. Should he marry, word would get out in underground black-magic circles that he now had a vulnerability. Her. If there were kids the threat was ten times worse. He couldn’t risk the possibility of his little one in the hands of a warlock, or worse, a necromancer. He’d seen what they could do. Eons ago when he’d vowed his soul in order to save his wife and son, he remembered the torture done to them by a warlock. He might’ve freed them with his eternity bargain, but they’d never been the same and ultimately took their own lives.
Then there was Brian Randolph’s bomb. He’d lied to Shannon all those years ago. She didn’t know about the first, and only, time in this lifetime that he’d attempted to be a stand-up guy. One kiss and he’d lost his mind and forgotten about consequences. Getting shut down had been for the best. Even if he had the chance at a do-over of that night, he’d allow himself to be intimidated by Brian again out of fear he couldn’t keep her safe long term.
Was she really any safer with him right now than with the druids? Probably not, but at least he knew the full scope of capabilities for each nasty magical she might encounter. He never should’ve offered to take her to Lola, but something about her made him unable to say no and move on. That and Brian had pushed more than a handful of his hot buttons.
Enough. He would ensure her safety. That was his job. Protect humans. Remain level-headed, vigilant and prepared. I’m the Enforcer.
“We’re not far now,” he said to break the silence. The car bounced along the rough two-lane for another mile before he turned onto an unmarked dirt road. He sped over the washboard surface to the next unmarked turn onto a sandy road.
“Do you still have the protective crystal I gave you yesterday?”
She removed it from beneath her shirt where it hung around her neck.
“Keep it on. It’ll ward off spells. Lola should behave, but you never know.”
Lola’s one bedroom house had been built on the edge of a pond. She’d added a screened in back porch since the last time he visited several years ago. Even though it looked better kept than most of the houses in this area—clean with a fresh coat of paint and a mowed lawn—it wasn’t a welcoming place to him. Too many spirits had been called upon here. Too many spells had been cast and animals killed to power magic than he cared to imagine.
“Be alert.” He scooted around to open her door, barely making it before she hopped out.
She glanced up, her eyes wide with unease.
He squeezed her hand and held on. “I got this. You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m glad you’re helping me.” She gazed at a stork strolling through the cattails. “This is quaint.”
“Don’t let it fool you. This isn’t the type of voodoo practiced in Haiti where they do it as a way of life to achieve cosmic harmony or something like that. Here, it’s become twisted with a focus on want and need rather than mastery of the divine.” He lowered his voice as they walked up the path to the front porch, “Don’t look directly into her eyes.”
“What?”
He shot her a quelling look as the porch door opened.
“Jason Merck. Had a feelin’ you’d be by today. And ye brought a special friend to visit.” The petite Haitian’s lips widened to reveal white teeth with a gold crown on a lower canine tooth. The smile stretched the maze of wrinkles on her dark skin. Although ageless, he guessed Lola to be in her seventies. The hem of her sky blue dress flapped in the breeze. “Come on in and we’ll get you and your lady friend sorted.”
As they passed close to her through the door, the smell of rum and cigars assaulted his nose. She’d been conjuring spirits today who’d probably foretold of their arrival. One step inside and his stomach lurched at the fetid odor of barn animals, putrefying blood, and incense. He stared at Lola’s eyes, violating his own rule. Yet, he pulled away before he became entranced by her cloudy, pale blue irises. The eyes were disconcerting next to her dark skin and Haitian heritage.
“You been communing with Papa Ghede today?” Merck infused calm into his voice.
Lola cackled. “You’s a smart one. Papa Ghede does love his rum. He be telling me abouts you and the lady, he did.”
Great. Just what he needed was the voodoo spirit of death to be talking about him. “Guess he’s looking forward to a meet-and-greet soon. He say anything useful to you?”
She laughed her shrill noise again. “He’s a fickle one, that Papa Ghede. I take everything he say to be only half true.”
Lola waved at her dining table, which she probably never used for meals, but only to invoke spirits and cast spells. “You two sit at the table. I made us tea.”
“Don’t drink,” he whispered to Shannon as they sat.
Her throat worked as she glanced at the table of rotting severed heads of dogs, snakes and lizards—fetishes used in spells ranging from the simplest libido enhancement to the darker rituals. Three skinny, hobbled roosters lay on the floor near the kitchen table ready to be used as sacrifices. On a side table an altar to a goddess was decorated in flashing Christmas lights, flowers, and mini liquor bottles.
He tried to convey reassurance with a small smile, but feared it came out stressed.
Lola placed a cup of tea in front of each of them and nudged at the sugar bowl in the center of the table suggestively. The tea smelled herbal with a splash of something extra that most likely helped push people into “the spirit.”
Lola rubbed her lower lip with her index finger as she stared at Shannon. The excitement in her eyes wasn’t good. “What brings you two all the way out here?”
“We’re searching for something.”
Her gaze snapped to Shannon. “You don’t think you have it? Many think you do. ’Course Papa Ghede told me you thought you didn’t. You want me to help you find it?”
Merck said, “I think we need to clarify what it refers to so we’re all on the same page.”
“Poseidon told Papa Ghede he’s very angry. He don’t like being angry with his son, ya know. But his son is helping the one who stole.” Lola clucked and shook her head. She rubbed her hands together. “Maybe I call on Papa Legba and see if he has anything to tell you about the staff of Poseidon.”
“Is he a more reliable spirit than Papa Ghede?” He distrusted all voodoo spirits. If they didn’t receive the perfect offering and proper veneration they were apt to lie to the conjurer.
“I have a price for asking.”
Of course she did. He gave her a go-ahead-and-name-your-price nod.
“I want the scrying glass that she tried to buy off Harnish.”
“That’s not really your style, Lola.”
“It’s what I decided this be worth.”
“Don’t make me have to hunt you.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Not your business what I do with it. If I use it, then we be seeing who’s got better magic. If a friend uses it, I’ll warn her you be vistin’.” She crossed her arms. “It’s the price.”
He didn’t want to give up the dangerous piece. Shannon chewed on her lower lip and looked at him with a mixture of hope and apprehension.
He wasn’t going to win the argument of not giving it to Lola. If Shannon said please or shed a single tear, he’d do it.
Merck said, “Okay. You want it now or after?”
Lola waved her hand dismissively. “We’ll get around to it.”
She placed beans and rum in small dishes in the center of the table as offerings. Then, she began weaving from side to side, humming. Eventually, she broke into song:
“Legba, open the gates for me
So that I may go through.
Upon my return I shall greet the Iwa.
Voodoo Legba open the gate for me
So that I can come in.
Amen.”
Lola seized a hobbled rooster off the floor and cut off its head with a dirty knife, draining its blood into a calabash bowl. The annoying humming she’d maintained throughout the rooster’s death stopped. Her eyes rolled upward until only the vein-ridden whites were visible. Trembling starting in her arms and overtook her body. Energy stirred in the small kitchen.
Lola’s eyes popped open. Her dilated pupils obscured the pale irises making her eyes appear black. Her body shakes ceased. Silence descended with only the sound of their breathing in the room.
Her gnarled hand reached toward Shannon. “Let me see your hands, honey.”
Shannon stared into the black eyes, mesmerized.
“No.” Merck grabbed Shannon’s hand as it reached toward Lola.
Shannon’s gaze snapped to his, startled and apologetic.
“Lola, Legba, or whoever you may be right now, if you touch her, I’ll cut off both your hands. If it’s worth losing limbs and you hurt her, I’ll ram this knife into your heart.” Merck slammed his black-blade knife on the table. “Are we clear?”
“We’s good.” Lola smiled and folded her hands together on the table. She gazed sightlessly above their heads for several long seconds. Her eyes focused on Shannon. “You must survive to thrive.”
Silence rested between the three of them for several dramatic seconds before she turned to Merck. “That you seek is not ahead of you but now.”
With a headshake, Lola’s head rolled forward onto her chest where it stayed. End of spirit possession. Show over.
All this for two bad lines he could’ve gotten out of a fortune cookie? What a buttload of worthless crap to have suffered the stench of this place and be cheated out of the scrying glass. Usually, Lola provided better information.
Moments later, Lola blinked. “You get what you needed to know?”
Merck pushed away from the table and grabbed Shannon’s hand, encouraging her to stand. “Yep. As always, it’s been an experience. I’ll get the glass out of the car for you.”
Merck pulled Shannon outside. Questions loomed in her gaze.
“Not now.” He retrieved the scrying glass from his duffle bag, walked it up the steps and handed it to Lola.
Lola palmed the piece and laughed. “Nice doin’ business with you. Stop by for tea again.”
He paused on the lower step to face her. “Behave or I’ll be back sooner than either of us would like.”
“Of course, Mister Enforcer.” She fake saluted him.
Shannon didn’t unfold her arms until they were back on the washboard road. “What’d it mean?”
“No clue.” That you seek is not ahead of you but now. Confirmation he had no future.
“I can’t get it to make sense for anything to do with finding the Trident. And, I feel grimy.”
“Sometimes Lola isn’t helpful, like today. It’s rare she has nothing to offer, but she’s not a guaranteed answer. We need to go somewhere with lots of people right now. A tourist trap works best. I usually hit Seaside Papa’s after a Lola visit.”
“Why do we need a place like that?”
“We need somewhere friendly to erase the darkness voodoo leaves.”
The restaurant’s dirt lot had few spaces remaining, and that was with good parking technique. Tourists didn’t excel at make it into the narrow spaces. The rectangular one-story building had retained its homey feel, which he enjoyed, even if it’d been overdecorated with crafty, country shit.
As they entered, the busty brunette hostess lit up. He stifled the oh shit on the tip of his tongue when the thirty-year-old with whom he’d spent a disappointing one-nighter a year ago scanned him from head to crotch. He’d forgotten she worked weekdays.
“Merck, how ya doing, sweetie? It’s been a while.” The hostess’s eyes narrowed with promised payback for not calling or texting afterward.
“We’re two for lunch, Mariah.” He slung his arm around Shannon’s waist and pulled her against him. Her head collided with his chest.
Shannon glanced up with wide eyes. He didn’t know if her look was in reaction to Mariah’s behavior or his. She rose onto tiptoe and pressed her soft lips against his. This was taking it farther than he expected, but it worked for him. Oh, Lord, it worked.
Curtail it or you’ll end up getting kicked out for indecent exposure.
Shannon pulled away with a wicked smile that insinuated all kinds of badness.
He was hooked on Shannon. How he hated being a predictable part of the gods’ plans. If everything continued to be as mind-boggling as it’d been so far every time they touched, then what the hell. He’d stay on the bus and see how far it went.
When he glanced back to Mariah, she’d turned several shades of scarlet. Guess she’d received the message he’d moved on.
“This way.” Mariah led through the busy restaurant to a four-seater with a window view of the ocean. He moved around to get Shannon’s chair for her.
As Mariah set a menu in front of Shannon, she whispered, “He might be pretty good in the sack, but he’s not a stayer.” Mariah cast Merck a saccharine sweet smile and left.
Shannon nibbled on her lower lip, but the twitch of a smile creased the corners of her mouth. She glanced up at him. His face heated.
“I never knew you were such a gentleman. Car doors and chairs. Of course, you are a ladies’ man sometimes, aren’t you?”
“My mamma would box my ears if I didn’t hold a chair for a lady.” The Southern charm came easily. The bitch who’d raised him might’ve resented him, but she’d instilled manners from the moment he could talk.
“You and Mariah, huh?”
He glanced toward the hostess station. Stepping into this conversation with Shannon was a bad idea.
He busied himself with the menu. They placed their orders.
“So, what do you think Lola’s answer meant?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry I suggested her. Total waste of time.”
“It’s okay. Had to try something. Any other suggestions?”
As the waitress returned with their drinks she glanced up at the TV screen overhead. “That girl kind of looks like you. Bless her heart, I can’t believe she was attacked on Extreme Survivor. I mean, she was just doing her job, and then someone on the staff went nuts on her with a knife. Weird that the couple who was also attacked on the show disappeared too.” Her tone left the sentence open-ended, waiting for Shannon to comment.
He didn’t miss the dread in Shannon’s gaze when she glanced up at the flash of her image across the screen with the headline: Mystery camerawoman disappears. New lead.
“Maybe the show paid them to all disappear,” Shannon offered.
“She was stabbed while working on the show.” The waitress gazed at Shannon again. “You do really look like her. Are you…?”
“Do I look like someone who got stabbed on a reality show in the jungle?”
“Nah. I guess not. That poor woman.” The waitress shook her head and wandered off.
He sipped tea and stared at the TV, which had now changed to a different news topic. “How exactly did you get hired to work on the show? Did they seek you out?”
“It was last minute. Jen got into her head she had to be on the show. We later found out she’d been hexed to do it, but we weren’t sure who cast it. The producer, Rick, seemed focused on killing my mother and me as a way to wipe out our bloodline. He might’ve been involved with my brothers’ deaths last year. He’s the one who got me with the sword, which must’ve somehow transmitted the Trident’s essence to me.”
“What about Owen? Other than hosting the show how exactly was he involved?”
“Owen convinced Jen he would only date her if she went on the show. She was convinced he was her soul mate. Again, ridiculous, but when we have a chance to find our once-in-a-lifetime guy, we’ve gotta do whatever needs to be done. Jen was convinced. Later we realized it was because Owen gave her a hexed necklace. The good news is Jen’s now husband agreed to be her fake boyfriend for the show and turned out to be the right guy for her. I don’t know how Owen or Rick knew if they got Jen on the show that I’d try to get on as a cameraperson. In the end it seems Jen wasn’t their primary target. It was my mother and me.”
“They could’ve consulted with a fortune teller to find out how to get you on the show. I’m sure Owen knows a few.”
“You mean someone with precognition?”
“Sure. You still think Owen Campbell is the key to understanding what’s going on?”
She glanced at the TV, which now flashed sports scores while cradling her cheek in one hand. He noticed the delicate bones of her wrist—so fragile. She said, “He’s the only lead I’ve got…the only person alive who played a part in me getting run through with a sword, but I agree that he’s dangerous. He was involved in Jen’s hex, but it’s unclear if Owen cast it or his fiancée.”
“The necromancer isn’t dead.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t believe she’s dead. Confronting either of them is a bad idea. They may not know where you are, but once they do, they’ll come after you if you’re important to their plans.”
“I’m not sure I have time for a wait-and-see approach.”
“You don’t need to find them. They’ll find you.”
“Within the next few days?”
“Probably.”
“Sounds like a reunion. Can’t wait.” She pushed her silverware around. “Maybe Lola wasn’t talking about me. Maybe she meant you.”
Damn it, he thought so too.