was too damn healthy for the flu.
Maybe it was something he ate. Like al igator. Or drank. Like
five hurricanes.
Zane had never seen Ty so hungover he was sick, though.
Nick ran a hand through his hair and sat on the end of the
bed. They could hear Ty in the bathroom, still throwing up.
“Is that Ty?” Nick asked.
Zane nodded. “He woke up sick.”
“Where am I?” Kelly asked again, sitting up.
After a few torturous minutes, Ty called out to them,
“Check under the pillows!”
“You okay?” Zane called back.
“No, just look under the pillows!”
“For what?” Zane asked as he glanced at Ty’s side of the
bed.“Gris-gris. Hex bags,” Ty answered, his voice laced with
pain. “Look all over the bed. Under the mattress. Little felt
bags!”
“You all right, buddy?” Nick asked. “Still drunk?”
“Shut up and help him!”
Zane snorted and shook his head. “Nutbar. I think we
would have noticed a little bag of crunchy things, as much as
we shook the mattress last night,” he said wryly.
“Oh God, please,” Kelly muttered. He raised a hand as if
to ward off the images.
86
“Agreed,” Nick grunted.
Zane laughed, but he started a slow perusal of the bed.
Ty was muttering incoherently from the bathroom when
Zane found a small felt bag beneath Ty’s pillow, wedged
between the headboard and the mattress. He pulled it out
and straightened, looking at the little bag with a frown as he
reached over and flipped the lamp on.
“This isn’t good,” he muttered, turning it over in his hand
before squeezing it to try to get an idea of the contents. It
was roughly two inches by three, tied with a simple cord. It
felt like a tea bag, like there was something dry and shredded
inside. With a few hard chunks. It looked like the bag in the
dead girl’s hand from last night.
He heard Ty stumble, gasping for breath. He was
silhouetted by the light from the bathroom, bent over,
clutching his side. “What color is it?” He was completely
serious, as if the color of the bag would tell him anything at
al . He bypassed Kelly’s legs and lurched toward the bed.
Zane was starting to feel a little queasy too. “It’s red. Felt,
I think.”
“Wait, someone was in here?” Nick asked.
“Housekeeping. Had to be,” Zane said grimly. “I knew
those towels were folded wrong.”
Ty lowered his head, biting his lip as he hunched against
the wall beside the bed. “Take me to the hospital,” he said.
“And let me have the bag.”
“You don’t really think . . .” Zane let the words trail off and
shook his head. It didn’t matter. Ty definitely looked ill, and
Zane was more convinced by that than some fantasy about
voodoo curses. “All right. Can you get dressed?”
Ty nodded, but he didn’t actually seem to be listening.
He was still clutching his side when he snatched the bag
87
out of Zane’s hand. He fumbled with the string that bound
the bag, and peered in. He didn’t have a chance to examine
the contents, though. He doubled over with a gasp, leaning
against the mattress as his knees started to fold.
Nick rolled over the corner of the bed to come to his side,
and Zane crawled over to put a hand on his shoulder.
His entire body was trembling, but he was taking deep
breaths, trying to fight through the obvious pain.
“Do we need to call an ambulance?” Kelly asked. He was
finally fully awake, though he looked almost as rough as Ty
did.“You’re the corpsman,” Nick grunted.
“Well, as a trained professional, I advise we call an
ambulance.”
“No,” Ty gasped. “Fuck the shirt, just get me to the ER.”
He let the bag go, leaving it on the bed.
Zane tugged his jeans on and grabbed the first shirt his
fingers touched, one of Ty’s T-shirts. He pulled it on as Nick
tried to help Ty into a button-up flannel. Zane grabbed his
wallet and Ty’s, then the felt bag, and nodded to Nick. “Time
to go.”
“I’ll help you get him into a
Maybe it was something he ate. Like al igator. Or drank. Like
five hurricanes.
Zane had never seen Ty so hungover he was sick, though.
Nick ran a hand through his hair and sat on the end of the
bed. They could hear Ty in the bathroom, still throwing up.
“Is that Ty?” Nick asked.
Zane nodded. “He woke up sick.”
“Where am I?” Kelly asked again, sitting up.
After a few torturous minutes, Ty called out to them,
“Check under the pillows!”
“You okay?” Zane called back.
“No, just look under the pillows!”
“For what?” Zane asked as he glanced at Ty’s side of the
bed.“Gris-gris. Hex bags,” Ty answered, his voice laced with
pain. “Look all over the bed. Under the mattress. Little felt
bags!”
“You all right, buddy?” Nick asked. “Still drunk?”
“Shut up and help him!”
Zane snorted and shook his head. “Nutbar. I think we
would have noticed a little bag of crunchy things, as much as
we shook the mattress last night,” he said wryly.
“Oh God, please,” Kelly muttered. He raised a hand as if
to ward off the images.
86
“Agreed,” Nick grunted.
Zane laughed, but he started a slow perusal of the bed.
Ty was muttering incoherently from the bathroom when
Zane found a small felt bag beneath Ty’s pillow, wedged
between the headboard and the mattress. He pulled it out
and straightened, looking at the little bag with a frown as he
reached over and flipped the lamp on.
“This isn’t good,” he muttered, turning it over in his hand
before squeezing it to try to get an idea of the contents. It
was roughly two inches by three, tied with a simple cord. It
felt like a tea bag, like there was something dry and shredded
inside. With a few hard chunks. It looked like the bag in the
dead girl’s hand from last night.
He heard Ty stumble, gasping for breath. He was
silhouetted by the light from the bathroom, bent over,
clutching his side. “What color is it?” He was completely
serious, as if the color of the bag would tell him anything at
al . He bypassed Kelly’s legs and lurched toward the bed.
Zane was starting to feel a little queasy too. “It’s red. Felt,
I think.”
“Wait, someone was in here?” Nick asked.
“Housekeeping. Had to be,” Zane said grimly. “I knew
those towels were folded wrong.”
Ty lowered his head, biting his lip as he hunched against
the wall beside the bed. “Take me to the hospital,” he said.
“And let me have the bag.”
“You don’t really think . . .” Zane let the words trail off and
shook his head. It didn’t matter. Ty definitely looked ill, and
Zane was more convinced by that than some fantasy about
voodoo curses. “All right. Can you get dressed?”
Ty nodded, but he didn’t actually seem to be listening.
He was still clutching his side when he snatched the bag
87
out of Zane’s hand. He fumbled with the string that bound
the bag, and peered in. He didn’t have a chance to examine
the contents, though. He doubled over with a gasp, leaning
against the mattress as his knees started to fold.
Nick rolled over the corner of the bed to come to his side,
and Zane crawled over to put a hand on his shoulder.
His entire body was trembling, but he was taking deep
breaths, trying to fight through the obvious pain.
“Do we need to call an ambulance?” Kelly asked. He was
finally fully awake, though he looked almost as rough as Ty
did.“You’re the corpsman,” Nick grunted.
“Well, as a trained professional, I advise we call an
ambulance.”
“No,” Ty gasped. “Fuck the shirt, just get me to the ER.”
He let the bag go, leaving it on the bed.
Zane tugged his jeans on and grabbed the first shirt his
fingers touched, one of Ty’s T-shirts. He pulled it on as Nick
tried to help Ty into a button-up flannel. Zane grabbed his
wallet and Ty’s, then the felt bag, and nodded to Nick. “Time
to go.”
“I’ll help you get him into a
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