Dark Sacrifice (25 page)

We head down the path leading to the pond. Figures. It's the one place Dad knows how to find. Grizzly Adams he's not. It's halfway between the Ackers' and Mala's place.

Ever since Mala mentioned seeing the “dark room” in her dream, I haven't been able to get Ackers' hunting lodge out of my mind. No other place would be more suitable for holding a prisoner than the one that has already been used for the same purpose. It's secluded, but also close enough to carry Dena to if he snatched her while she was on her way to Mala's. Sure, the guy would be an idiot to keep her there for the very same reasons, but I'd be an even bigger fool not to check it out. If only to cross it off my nonexistent list.

The path ends at the edge of the clearing, and I pause before exiting the woods to scan the area for danger. Dad paces along the edge of the water. The worry on his face makes me have second thoughts about dragging him into this mess, but he's the only person besides the twins who know how to find the lodge.

Time to ditch the kiddies and call in the cavalry.

Carl and Daryl sprint across the wildflower-dotted field, shoving and kicking each other out of the way in an effort to be the first to reach Dad.

Dad pats the twins on the shoulder when they reach him. “Thanks for bringing my son,” he says in his booming church voice. The kids practically melt beneath his praise. I'm almost sorry to dash it.

“Yeah, nice job. Now keep your promise. Go back to the house and tell Mala and George to meet us at your dad's hunting lodge.”

“Why are you going there?”

“Why can't we go with you?”

It takes too much effort to figure out which twin asked what. I shake my head, shooing them off. “Look, I don't have time to argue. If I'm right, Dena's been kidnapped and she's being held there. I need backup. The deputy kind with a big-ass gun. George and Mala don't know where the lodge is or that we're going to check it out.”

“Carl will go back, and I'll go with you,” Daryl says.

“You'll both go, or I'll kick your asses.”

A muffled voice turns us around. “I'm thinking ya'll best come with me.”

My heart somersaults in my chest when I see a guy dressed in black pointing a handgun at the center of my chest. One of the twins shrieks and breaks for the trees. The gun jerks and goes off. Wood splinters fly out from Daisy's hull. The running twin falls to the ground, covering his head with his arms, wailing. The other twin cowers behind me. His voice echoes the prayer I'm repeating to myself.

S
weat rolls down my back.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans shorts and lead George to a rocking chair. I'm tempted to bring him a glass of tea, anything to put off having this conversation. But the longer I wait, the more likely I'll talk myself out of spilling my deepest, craziest secret.

Dena doesn't have time for my doubts.

The memory of her fear drills into me. I lean back in the rocking chair and stare at the ceiling. How to start? From the beginning?

“Tell me what you know about Dena's disappearance, Mala.”

“It's not that easy.” I flick a glance in his direction. He hasn't stopped frowning since Landry kissed me. He can't be jealous. We've already established the whole incestuous ickiness that comes from knowing we're related. Not by blood, but still. Sharing a father. And for all intents and purposes, George Sr. has been George's dad his whole life.

I shake my head.
Focus.
“For months I've been dreading having this conversation with you. It's neither simple nor rational from most people's perspectives. Hell, I fought against believing it myself when I first learned what was happening to me.” I sigh and meet his eyes. “Hopefully you trust me enough to take me at my word.”

“Spit it out.”

Crap, he doesn't sound very trusting. More like pissed and impatient. Not at all receptive to me saying “I see dead people.” Maybe Landry's right. I need to come at this from another angle. “The fourth guy who helped kill Mama kidnapped Dena. He's holding her as a hostage to draw out Landry and me. She's bait, and we have to save her.”

“Uh-huh.” He's frowning at a spider spinning a web between the porch's wooden slats.

“He's got her duct-taped in a dark room somewhere.” My newly manicured nails tap a tattered rhythm against the chair arm, drumming faster and faster as the silence stretches between us. Finally I blurt out, “Don't you want to know how I know?”

“You gonna get around to explaining that? Or should I just call out the SWAT team?”

I recognize the sarcasm, but I'm still compelled to ask, “Can't you just call them out without more info?” The hopeful tone of my voice doesn't go unnoticed.

“Mala, what's
really
going on?” He leans over and lays a warm hand on my thigh. “Why does it feel like you don't trust me? Like you're holding back.”

“Why do you need to know? Can't you just roll with what I've told you, please?”

He jerks his hand off my leg and slams it down on the table. “This secret…Landry knows it, doesn't he?”

Uh-oh, this conversation isn't going in the right direction. He glares at me for a long moment then leaps to his feet. My forward lunge almost tips over the rocking chair. I grab George's arm before he can storm down the stairs. My fingers dig into his bicep, and he wrenches them free. He steps into my personal space, and I stumble back against the table, staring at his hands as they flex then clench into fists at his sides.

“Georgie.” I choke on his name, feeling smothered.

He looms, only inches from my body. “Damn, do you know how long it's been since you called me that?” He scrubs his hand across his face and through his hair. Red-gold spikes stick up in every direction, and my heart melts. His hands fall onto my shoulders. He doesn't hold tightly, but I'm frozen in place just the same.

“I'm sorry, Mala,” he says, fingers kneading the tight muscles in my shoulders. It should be soothing, but it's not. “It's my fault. Everything…I screwed up. I should've told you about Isabel. And I shouldn't have pushed you away because I was pissed at Dad for…having you…for making you my sister.”

“We're not blood,” I whisper.

“I know. So why did we let it come between us?”

A rush of panic floods through me. “What does it matter now? Even if we didn't find out, it wouldn't have worked between us. I tried to deny my feelings, but the truth is I'm in love with Landry.”

“You love me too. I know it.” His jaw flexes. “Think I can't feel you trembling beneath my hands?” He steps closer, and I breathe in his clean, mountain-fresh scent. My eyes close as my legs waver.
What the hell...this can't be happening. Not now.

I love Landry.
Only Landry.

“Stop confusing me!” I yank free of his hands. Once he's not touching me, I can think. I take another step back, dragging in huge gulps of muggy air. My hands shake as I fan my heated cheeks.

George shuts his green eyes for a long, drawn-out moment. When they open, all of the emotion darkening them has vanished. He rests his hands on his duty belt, all business again. “Tell me how you know about Dena. Don't leave anything out.”

“I see ghosts.”
Oh crap! What have I done?

“Say what?”

I want to smack myself upside the head. Did I really resort to blurting out the one thing that could really and truly drive him away? Or did I say it because I selfishly hope he believes and accepts my reality?

Blame it on my confusion. Whatever. Doesn't matter now. I have to make him believe me or Dena's dead. “You wanted to know my secret. The one Landry knows and accepts.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “That's it. All those pesky rumors about my family being witches are true.”

“Are you—”

“Spilling my guts. Yeah, I'm desperate. Dena's life depends on how much you trust me. On whether you believe me or think I'm having a psychotic break.”

He rocks back on his heels, eyes rolling skyward. The breath he blows out ends in a laugh. “You've got to be shitting me.”

“No, I'm serious.”

His face flushes. “Bullshit! You don't seriously believe you see ghosts? Or expect me to believe you? Is this a test…some sort of crazy attempt to see if you can drive me away? Haven't you figured out I'm not going anywhere? I care about you, Mala.”

“This confession isn't about us. It's about
me
. I know it's difficult to accept. I didn't believe it either, and it was happening to me. I tried my best to rationalize what I was seeing. Told myself I had posttraumatic stress from finding Lainey's body. I told myself that's why I kept seeing her.” I give a shaky laugh of my own. “My disbelief almost got me killed. It got you beat up when she possessed me in the hospital. I didn't know how to protect myself so Lainey thrust me out of my own skin and used me to expose her mother.”

He blinks.

“Did you hear me?” I shift my weight forward onto my toes. If he runs, I'll tackle him from behind.
He'd better not run.

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

George crosses his hands in front of his chest and shifts into a bladed stance. It's how cops stand when they think they'll go hands-on with a criminal.

“Oh, great!” I grumble. “You're wearing your gunslinger expression. You think I'm crazy, and you're trying to figure out a way of saying so without setting me off.”

“I didn't say that.”

“Mother Mary, you don't have to. Think I don't know you well enough to be able to read your mind?”

“You can read minds too?” His copper eyebrows rise.

“Not yet. If I could, I would've known you were sleeping with Isabel.”
Jerk.
I shove past him and storm down the stairs. “Landry warned me not to tell you, but I hoped you'd believe—never mind.”

His footsteps follow me across the yard. At least he's still willing to listen. Or is he trying to sneak up to throw me to the ground so he can handcuff me? Once upon a time, I wouldn't have minded. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder.

Handcuffs still in their holder.

I slow until he walks beside me. “Sorry. I'm not being fair. I admit my confession's a lot to take in. Guess some secrets shouldn't be shared. I get that.”
Now.
I breathe out a sigh. “How about this, Georgie? Why don't you just take my words on faith?”

“I can't call out the SWAT team on faith. I need evidence.”

“Dena's missing. How much more evidence do you need? Tell them a witness saw the fourth guy kidnapping her. Because that's the truth.” I bite my lip, knowing since I'm serving up a heaping dose of honesty stew, I'd better tell him everything. “You also should know that Reverend Prince has been living in my shed.”

George stops with one foot raised. He lowers it slowly to the ground. “Tell me that's a joke.”

I kick a clod of dirt and realize it's one of Gaston's spiritual land mines. Can't go destroying my protection or Acker might show. “He told Landry he didn't kill Mama.”

“And you believe him? Landry's lying to protect his dad.”

“I heard his story too. He said he feels guilty about falling for Rathbone's lies and blaming Mama for Lainey's death.”

“An innocent man wouldn't be on the run.”

I shake my head. “Rathbone and the missing nurse, Gloria-something, nut-job, drugged him while he was in the hospital. They sneaked him out while he was unconscious. The fourth guy killed them, but the rev managed to escape. He's been hanging around to protect me and Landry.”

“Did he give any proof that what he said was the truth? Where did all of this go down?”

“The hunting lodge. The rev said when he went back Rathbone's and Gloria's bodies were missing.”

“The lodge on Acker's property?” He frowns at my nod. “Dad took me there a few times. He went through a hunting phase for a few years. Back before he and Acker fell out.”

Oh, George Sr. used to hunt?”
How nice they shared so many bonding moments over the years.
Bitterness leaves a tang in my mouth. I can't help feeling resentful. Especially after seeing how much Reverend Prince loves Landry. He's living in a shed to protect his son…to protect me, and I'm not even his child. I've been out of the hospital for almost a week, and my sperm donor never even called to say hello.

My eyes squeeze shut on the uncharitable thoughts. My old man never wanted me. He'll never accept me. Wishing on stars is something Disney made up. And if I don't show George proof of my abilities, he'll think I'm farting rainbows.

“What if I can figure out where the guy dumped Rathbone's and Gloria's bodies? Seeing is believing, right?”

“You can do that? How?”

“Gloria's been haunting me since I was in the hospital. Back then, I didn't know who she was or what she wanted. But it's probably the same thing Acker wants: his body found.”

“Acker's dead too.”

Another confession. Damn.
I've withheld a lot from him. “He died on the same night as Mama. He chased me into the swamp, and Lainey's ghost shoved him into quicksand. That day you came over…well, it wasn't a tornado. Acker threw a rock at your head.”

“Yeah, guess that makes more sense than a tornado in the bayou.”

“Aha! Glad to know the rock didn't scramble your brain too badly.”

“No more than you have with your ghost talk.”

If anyone had the incentive to find Dena, it would be her loving father. The question is, how do I get him to make a ghostly appearance? Gaston warded the yard against him, and Magnolia hurt him so bad during his last attack that he'd be a fool to show. Except the man wasn't a supergenius when alive. Just stuffed full of hate and rage.

“Hey, Georgie, what if the reason he attacked me last time was because he knew Dena had been kidnapped? Maybe he knows where she is.”

“Acker…the not-so-friendly ghost?” He absently rubs the back of his head.

“Yeah! It's a long shot, but it's the only chance Dena's got.” I run over to another land mine and kick it across the yard. George follows, watching me like I've lost my mind. Kind of feel like I have, I'm so excited. “So my dead uncle Gaston warded the yard. Ghosts blow up if they come onto the property. We'll have to destroy the protection. Even with it gone, I'm not positive if he'll show up on his own. And I never thought to ask Magnolia to teach me how to call ghosts. I've spent all my time trying to shove them away.”

I glance at George. “You're being annoyingly quiet.”

“What can I say that won't make me sound like I'm doubting you?”

“Your tactfulness is much appreciated.”

He releases a long-suffering sigh. “It's a skill I practice daily.”

“Soon you won't have to.” A cold wind raises goose bumps on my arms. My hair blows into a halo around my face, and I open my arms wide. George stumbles back, lifting his arms up to protect his face from the debris flying through the air. He stares at me with wide, slightly panicked eyes, and I grin.

I throw my head back and yell, “Acker, come and get me!”

Power converges from all directions, like I'm standing in the epicenter of a magnetized circle. The intensity of the energy makes my skin tingle. The rush almost buckles my knees. My senses heighten until I can hear individual birdcalls and the
scritch
of grasshopper legs rubbing together. I grit my teeth, breathing in the rich, loamy scent of the earth.

Acker arrives in an angry whirlwind, crazier than bag lady Junebug hurling her empty soda cans at the heads of the kids who tease her.
What the hell was I thinking? I can't control him. I broke the wards.

“Gaston, help!” I spin, shoving George toward the house. “Run, Georgie!”

A gust of icy air hits my back so hard that it flings me forward. My hands catch my fall before I face-plant in a mud puddle. George stops and turns around. He grabs my outstretched hand, yanking me to my feet, but before I can catch my balance, a rope of air wraps around my legs at the knees and tightens.

George tries to pull me forward while the rope jerks backward, slicing through my skin. Warm liquid runs down my legs. It's blood. It's going to amputate me at the knees.