Spell For Sophia (20 page)

Through the windows I spotted a few people congregated outside. Most were university students wearing Tulane green and shouldering backpacks. The silvery teen glided among them, sticking close to the windows, shadowing us from outside. High emotions flowed from her in waves. Hatred. Anger. Fear. Revenge. Worry. Heartache.

I glanced back as the Overseer commandeered the aisle behind Breaux, cutting in front of the complaining guy, who compressed his lips and remained silent.

"Do not let him get hold of the knife," Bayou warned, splattering swamp water as she backstepped through the wooden seats.

"I know," I said through my teeth.

"What do you know, little girl?" the Overseer called over Breaux's shoulder.

"Shut up," Breaux warned him.

Two rows from the front I told the driver, "Sorry for the trouble, ma'am."

She grunted at me, but uncrossed her arms and returned to her seat. As I approached the open glass door, the silvery girl retreated behind an oak tree. My thoughts darted. I knew what I needed to do. But first I had to get Nervous Guy to take control of his body again. Something had triggered his reemergence last time, but what?

I grasped the vertical pole and eased down the streetcar step, my free hand pressed to my sore ribs. The students waiting to board the vehicle threw me curious looks as I disembarked, some hostile. Murmurs rose as Breaux descended behind me. My cheeks heated. As disheveled and strung-out as I must appear, Breaux looked worse with his bloody bandana. Too many people eyed him. My stomach wrenched. What if someone pulled out a cell phone and snapped his picture? What if people started asking questions? If his bright future were ruined because I had forgotten to ask Papa Legba to close the door, I'd never forgive myself.

I stumbled from lack of sleep and protein. Breaux quick-stepped and caught my elbow.

"Thanks." Our eyes met, and for a second everything else melted away and I flashed on the day we had first met by the schoolyard.

Breaux squeezed my elbow.

"I can walk," I mumbled.

His lips lifted into a smile. "Sure you can."

"We must be in the homestretch." My gaze jumped from the gold letters spelling out Tulane University on a low wall to the massive, pale stone building beyond. Large arched doorways and windows defined the ground floor. One story up, the curved windows were smaller, uniform, and laid out in a neat horizontal row. My gaze swept upward and followed the triangular façade on the top floor to its peak. My heart clutched.
I'd love to go to a college like this.
Regret exploded inside me.
I wish I had never tracked down my bio-parents and crawled into their car.

"We need to ditch the crazy guy, then see if
Grand-mère
left us any clues."

Adrenaline pumped through my veins. "No. I have to help him."

Breaux released my elbow. "Are you serious? Take off your hat. I want to check for a brain injury."

"Ha ha," I mocked. He reached for my knit cap and I swatted away his hand. "I have a plan."

"Watch your back!" Bayou yelled.

Too late, I sensed bad mojo pressing against me and felt the Overseer's hot breath through the knitted yarn. The silvery teen dive-bombed me from the left. Bayou screamed.

I ducked, twisting away from Breaux and the Overseer. I recovered, and as I rose from my crouch, time slowed. The murmurs of the college kids and the rattle of the streetcar dimmed as though someone had rotated a dial from eight to one. The peculiar metallic smell of the departing streetcar reached my nose, then faded. My body angled toward the silvery teen's trajectory. I spotted her a few feet away as another silvery being joined her. The newcomer clutched a rose quartz pendulum in her translucent hand. The two hovered above a strip of grass between two oaks and stared down at me. Chills tingled my skin.
Ainslie?

"Behind you!" Bayou warned.

I swung about and faced the Overseer. He glanced at me, then his gaze shifted and his eyes widened. His shoulders jerked. He took a step toward the silvery being with the dreadlocks, the one who had dive-bombed me.

"I remember you." His voice was as smooth and black as a scrying mirror and infused with the fire and ice of cooled lava. He whipped back to me and his gaze dropped to my waist. My hoodie must have inched up when I stumbled, exposing the leather knife sheath. His lips spread into a feral smile.

No. No. No.

The Overseer lunged for the knife. I pivoted away from him and thrust one hand inside my pocket.

The Overseer's hand connected with my ribs instead of the leather sheath. In an explosion of pain, time accelerated. I extracted the black man-purse, heedlessly knocking the poppet and twine from my pocket. They landed near Breaux's feet. The Overseer's face contorted with rage. Breaux's lips moved, but the time warp distorted his words. He launched himself at the Overseer.

I still had the knife. I could do this. Remembering what had snapped Nervous Guy back into his body the last time, I held up the man-purse. "Lose something?"

Spying the leather clutch, the Overseer went limp and slipped from Breaux's grasp. Nervous Guy sank to the ground, his legs bent at the knee as much as his black skinny jeans would allow.

A group of students surrounded us. "Everything cool here?" a brawny football player asked.

"Is he okay?" a young woman with a bicycle asked.

"He skipped breakfast and became lightheaded." I knelt next to Nervous Guy's feet. The small, mottled soul of the Overseer writhed across his solar plexus. "He'll be fine. We'll take care of him."
As soon as you all leave.

Instead of heading off to class, the students opened their backpacks and messenger bags. Protein bars, a banana, and possibly a Hurricane drink were placed on the ground beside Nervous Guy.

"Thanks, y'all," Breaux said.

The football player pointed at Breaux. "Wow, you resemble Congressman—"

"Yeah, so I've heard." He gave the banana to Nervous Guy, whose hand trembled.

"Bro, you better get to the health center and get your head examined. You're bleeding."

"I will," Breaux promised.

I sensed the silvery beings and swamp ghost inch closer, but didn't dare tear my gaze from Nervous Guy or the Overseer's mottled soul attached to his solar plexus. Nervous Guy propped himself up on his elbows. When he started to push upright into a sitting position, I stared him in the eye and almost imperceptibly shook my head. His gaze dropped to the man-purse in my hand. Understanding dawned in his eyes. He settled back into the half-prone position and waved feebly at the students who had stopped to help.

"Later, man," the jock said. He and the others dispersed.

"Are we cool here?" Breaux asked.

I nodded. Breaux cast a warning look at Nervous Guy. "I'm going to get your stuff," he told me. "I'll be right back." He stepped away to gather up the poppet and cords and the backpack he must have dropped when he'd lunged at the Overseer.

"Ready?" I asked.

Nervous Guy nodded.

I laid the man-purse on the ground and wiped my palms on the thighs of my jeans before scooting within striking distance. My hand closed around the sheath and unsnapped the leather safety strap. One pass. If I could get a clean cut and sever the Overseer's cord, it should kill him without harming Nervous Guy. I withdrew the knife.

The Overseer's mottled soul scuttled like a spider, concealing the cord. Nervous Guy fell back, legs kicking as though he were having a seizure. The man-purse flew beyond my reach. Nervous Guy made a guttural sound and clutched the heavy padlock hung around his neck. I glanced back at his third chakra as the Overseer's foul soul disappeared into the vortex.

Sophia, watch out!
Ainslie's voice screamed.

I scrambled backward as the Overseer lunged.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hands closed around my neck, choking off my cry for help. Thumbs pressed against my skin graft. I dropped the blunt-edged table knife and tore at the Overseer's hands, scratching and pulling. White light burst before my eyes, then blackness started to close in on me. Bayou hollered at the Overseer to stop. Ainslie shouted too, but it was hard to make out her words over the ghost. Was she saying something about soccer?

The blackness grew. My vision tunneled. I could no longer see my assailant's face inches from my own.
Kick it, Breaux! Turn around. I'm dying here. Kick…it. Ainslie was screaming for me to kick him.
I sent what strength I had left into my right leg and aimed blindly, praying I'd connect with the Overseer's groin. With a howl, he released me and dropped to his knees, clutching between his legs. I crashed to the ground; the blackness receded.

The howl had alerted Breaux, who swung about. Fury and pain contorted the Overseer's expression. He launched himself sideways and knocked Breaux's feet out from under him. Breaux hit the pavement hard and fell still. The backpack thudded on the concrete near his waist. The poppet and binding cords flew from his hands and landed on the pavement between the Overseer and me.

Gulping air, I staggered to my feet. Too late I remembered the knife.

The Overseer rose as well. Nervous Guy's facial features had morphed. The Overseer's face — older, with higher, sharper cheekbones, dark flecks in his eyes, and a cruel cast to his fleshy lips — had reemerged. The fine hairs on my forearms and nape stood on end.

"Funny thing about head injuries." He tugged at the cuff of his leather jacket as he limped back toward me. "They make you slow. Dull-witted." His gaze dropped to the spirit doll and table knife, then scythed up to me. "Planning to be a
mambo
queen when you grow up, little girl?"

My hands closed into fists. The Overseer stooped and picked up the knife and poppet with his bloodied hands. He scrutinized the now deserted streetcar station. Classes must have started. His piercing gaze swung back to me.

"I see you." My words scratched to the surface, my throat raw from having been choked. "The real you. Why do you have a
veve
branded on your forehead?"

She can see it!
Ainslie words entered my head.

Another voice sounded inside my head.
But she won't understand what it means without the spell book. We have to leave. Now. The drums…

The Overseer's brows trenched together. I wasn't sure if it was because of my remark or because he could hear Ainslie and her astral friend. He hurled the poppet onto the ground and stomped on it. When he lifted his foot, dirt and pebbles from the sole of his boot clung to the bloodstains on the doll's rough cotton skin. The Overseer brushed his fingertips across his forehead. Behind him and off to the side, Bayou knelt over Breaux.

"You lie." The Overseer tossed the silver knife from his right hand to his left and then back again.

"Nope. The symbol is there, big as life. Oh. Sorry. Poor choice of words." I sidestepped. A small surge of hope coursed through me as I hid the lump of binding twine beneath my sneaker. I stared at the Overseer, but watched Breaux in my peripheral vision as he struggled to his hands and knees.

Ainslie!
the silvery girl warned.
The drums!

Leave! I'll catch up with you,
Ainslie told the girl.
I'm going to stay and buy her time.

Air whooshed behind me. Ainslie hurtled past me like a comet, rocketing toward the Overseer's face. He raised the knife to slash her.

"Go!" Breaux yelled.

I swept up the poppet and binding cords. My heart accelerated when I realized the twine had become tangled. I knelt to free it. My fingers trembled as I followed the thread, loosened the loops and knots. I glanced up as Ainslie made a second pass at the Overseer. My heart bungee-jumped as his knife hand arced toward her lifeline.

Breaux swung the backpack two-handed. The overstuffed pack boxed the Overseer in the side of the head before tumbling off his shoulder and thudding to the ground. With a clatter, the table knife bounced off the pavement. The Overseer staggered sideways and collapsed to his knees. Ainslie twisted in air as though checking her lifeline.

The twine unraveled. The dreadlocked astral girl touched down beside me. I sent her a telepathic message, hoping she could hear my thoughts as well as I could hear hers.
Go if you must. Get Ainslie to safety.

She won't leave until you are safe. What do you need?

I glanced at the Overseer.
I need Nervous Guy to take control of his own body and mind.

She seemed to hear me. She glanced at the Overseer as though she had. But she hesitated. I wasn't sure what she could do in her astral state or how she could help. But I didn't have time for hesitation. I needed Nervous Guy to reassert himself.
Where's his purse?

Ainslie backpedaled in midair. Breaux gathered up the silver knife and converged on the Overseer. The dreadlocked girl flew to the Overseer's side.

Christophe? Can you hear me, Christophe? It's Yemaya, Amélie's friend.

The Overseer's features collapsed into a dazed blob and vanished like sewage flushed down a toilet. Nervous Guy's face reappeared. "Yemaya? Is it truly you?"

"Now!" I shouted hoarsely at Breaux. "The solar plexus."

Breaux wielded the knife. I wrapped the cord and uttered the binding hex. The Overseer's enraged face emerged on the doll, then vanished beneath the cords. Bile rose in my throat. It burned as I swallowed it back and completed the binding hex.

I must leave, Christophe,
the silvery girl said.
Be strong.

Ainslie flew close to my ear.
I will never stop searching for you.

My chest constricted. She hadn't forgotten me. She'd never stopped looking for me. I pressed my lips together. She'd seen me perform the binding hex and she'd still promised to find me.
Why?
I searched her eyes, but they were silver pools reflecting back my teary eyes.

Before I could summon the right words, the other astral girl flew to Ainslie's side. The two vanished like marionettes whisked away by a celestial puppet master.