more like it.”
Daria tinkers for several minutes, then comes over with her hands full of drinks—a Bloody Mary for me that’s so spicy my eyes water after a single sip, and a glass of what appears to be gin or vodka mixed with water for her. So much for morning-appropriate beverages.
“So what brings you to my door at this cotton-pickin’ hour?You do know that I work late, right?”
“I know. But I ran into an invisible, yet not metaphorical wall yesterday, busted up my face, and then received a message scrawled in my own blood. Forgive me if I’m having trouble sleeping.”
“They make booze for that, too,” she grumbles before peering closer into my face. She downs half her drink, then shrugs. “I wasn’t going to mention the damage in caseyou didn’t want to discuss it, but yeah. You’ve looked prettier.”
“Thanks,” I manage, half-appalled, half-unsurprised that even Daria employs a very Southern look-the-other-way policy. “It was Mama Lottie. She’s tired of waiting for her answer.”
“I’m surprised she waited this long. Did she do what she said? Prove her good faith?”
I wince. “You might say that. The woman who has been the carrierof the curse, the one harassing my cousin for the past several months, turned up dead in the river behind our house.”
“Foul play?”
“They don’t know. Nothing obvious, but the autopsy results aren’t back yet.” I make a mental note to check in with Travis and Will on that. The autopsy was a couple of days ago now; they should have heard something.
Daria nods slowly. “It had to be her. That womanis powerful, Graciela. I don’t know how to impress upon you how much she can control. I’ve never encountered a spirit like her.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that.”
“So you’re going to tell her no thanks, right?”
I shake my head, and all the blood drains from Daria’s face. “No. I have to take the deal. It’s the only way to save my cousin and her baby.”
We still have the court case to worryabout, but with the curse hanging over our heads, none of the rest of it matters.
“I doubt that, and think it’s a mistake, besides,” Daria says. She looks defeated, as though she expected my choice and doesn’t believe she has any chance of changing my mind but has to try. “She’s not…she’s not on your side, not really. I think she set this whole thing up to suck you in, to bind you up, make youneed her. Or believe you do.”
“I do , though. Unless you can help me break a two-hundred-year-old voodoo curse?”
By the time she answers, her glass is drained and her hands are shaking. “No, I can’t. I know some things about witchcraft, but this is out of my league.”
Her reaction combines with my own discomfort over this decision, fear breaking out nausea in my stomach and sweat on my palms.
“I’m not happy about this, either. You don’t have to tell me Mama Lottie is dangerous. I can smell it on her. She scares the donkey snot out of me, but I don’t know what else to do. And nothing isn’t an option. Not anymore.”
“Okay. Okay, Graciela. I’ll go out there with you to tell her what you decided, just in case you have trouble communicating, but then I’m out of this. No more help.”
Herdecision isn’t unexpected, but it does nothing to make me feel better about this whole thing. Daria is a link to knowledge. She’s a lifeline, of sorts, and to remove her as a resource sets me further adrift in these foreign waters than ever.
But I can’t force her. I would be taking off like a pelican, too, if I had the option.
“I don’t like it, but it’s your choice. I can’t thank you enoughfor everything you’ve done for me and taught me until now.”
“Don’t think this means you and I are done, Miss Priss. You owe me more than a couple of favors at this point, and I’ll call them in when it suits me.” She holds up her glass in a toast, a maniacal smile stretching her lips.
“Are
Daria tinkers for several minutes, then comes over with her hands full of drinks—a Bloody Mary for me that’s so spicy my eyes water after a single sip, and a glass of what appears to be gin or vodka mixed with water for her. So much for morning-appropriate beverages.
“So what brings you to my door at this cotton-pickin’ hour?You do know that I work late, right?”
“I know. But I ran into an invisible, yet not metaphorical wall yesterday, busted up my face, and then received a message scrawled in my own blood. Forgive me if I’m having trouble sleeping.”
“They make booze for that, too,” she grumbles before peering closer into my face. She downs half her drink, then shrugs. “I wasn’t going to mention the damage in caseyou didn’t want to discuss it, but yeah. You’ve looked prettier.”
“Thanks,” I manage, half-appalled, half-unsurprised that even Daria employs a very Southern look-the-other-way policy. “It was Mama Lottie. She’s tired of waiting for her answer.”
“I’m surprised she waited this long. Did she do what she said? Prove her good faith?”
I wince. “You might say that. The woman who has been the carrierof the curse, the one harassing my cousin for the past several months, turned up dead in the river behind our house.”
“Foul play?”
“They don’t know. Nothing obvious, but the autopsy results aren’t back yet.” I make a mental note to check in with Travis and Will on that. The autopsy was a couple of days ago now; they should have heard something.
Daria nods slowly. “It had to be her. That womanis powerful, Graciela. I don’t know how to impress upon you how much she can control. I’ve never encountered a spirit like her.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that.”
“So you’re going to tell her no thanks, right?”
I shake my head, and all the blood drains from Daria’s face. “No. I have to take the deal. It’s the only way to save my cousin and her baby.”
We still have the court case to worryabout, but with the curse hanging over our heads, none of the rest of it matters.
“I doubt that, and think it’s a mistake, besides,” Daria says. She looks defeated, as though she expected my choice and doesn’t believe she has any chance of changing my mind but has to try. “She’s not…she’s not on your side, not really. I think she set this whole thing up to suck you in, to bind you up, make youneed her. Or believe you do.”
“I do , though. Unless you can help me break a two-hundred-year-old voodoo curse?”
By the time she answers, her glass is drained and her hands are shaking. “No, I can’t. I know some things about witchcraft, but this is out of my league.”
Her reaction combines with my own discomfort over this decision, fear breaking out nausea in my stomach and sweat on my palms.
“I’m not happy about this, either. You don’t have to tell me Mama Lottie is dangerous. I can smell it on her. She scares the donkey snot out of me, but I don’t know what else to do. And nothing isn’t an option. Not anymore.”
“Okay. Okay, Graciela. I’ll go out there with you to tell her what you decided, just in case you have trouble communicating, but then I’m out of this. No more help.”
Herdecision isn’t unexpected, but it does nothing to make me feel better about this whole thing. Daria is a link to knowledge. She’s a lifeline, of sorts, and to remove her as a resource sets me further adrift in these foreign waters than ever.
But I can’t force her. I would be taking off like a pelican, too, if I had the option.
“I don’t like it, but it’s your choice. I can’t thank you enoughfor everything you’ve done for me and taught me until now.”
“Don’t think this means you and I are done, Miss Priss. You owe me more than a couple of favors at this point, and I’ll call them in when it suits me.” She holds up her glass in a toast, a maniacal smile stretching her lips.
“Are
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