Spell For Sophia (22 page)

Don't panic. Don't panic.
The obsessive-compulsive part of my brain took over, counting each boom, calculating when the next one would hit.
Four. Five. Six. Yemaya?
By nine I had reached my limit, convinced I could endure no more. Panic tightened my throat, cutting off my screams. I tensed for the next boom. When it hit, I was unprepared for the turbo blast. My wings dissolved and I catapulted through the roof of my house.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sophia

My hands clutched the edge of the rowboat seat with such force I expected the one-inch pine plank to break. At least this time I was upright and not splayed facedown across the bench. My stomach reeled. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop my vision from ping-ponging. The night sounds of the bayou — chirps, trills, whistles, and mews
—
filled my ears. Water slapped the sides of the small rowboat, gently rocking it.

Sensing Breaux's presence, I opened my eyes. "We have to stop meeting like this."

On the opposite bench seat, Breaux planted his elbows on his thighs and covered his eyes and cheekbones with his hands. He shook his head and uttered a sound halfway between a laugh and a cry. He let his arms fall, glanced upward, and motioned for me to scoot over. "Let's not make the same mistake twice."

My smile collapsed. I had been joking. He didn't have to agree with me.

"You're sitting on the crossroads," he clarified. "Close the opening."

I smelled it then, the whiff of pipe smoke and rum. "Oh, crap!" I scooted aside and ran my fingers over the bench, searching for the spot where I had used my pencil to scratch crossroads into the wood. My fingertips encountered the narrow grooves. I stood, rocking the small rowboat, and raised my arms.

"Papa Legba
, fermez la porte.

Papa Legba
, fermez la porte, la porte.

Papa Legba
, fermez la porte.

Close the door, Papa Legba, so we may find our way home."

I grabbed the nearest oar and faced Breaux. "What do you think?"

Breaux sniffed the air. "Gone. Good job."

"Good teamwork," I corrected as I sat down. "Thanks for the save."

"Which one?" His smile gleamed in the darkness like a Cheshire cat's. "What time is it?"

I checked my watch. "Eleven-ten."

"Does your timepiece show you the date? Specifically the year?"

"Oddly, no. But I'm guessing we're back in the present."

Something over my shoulder caught Breaux's attention. He jerked forward, picked up his oar, and threaded it through the oar hook. His smile returned. "There's the boat rental office."

I twisted on the bench. Behind me, Breaux's oar arced into the water and pulled us forward. Ahead, the light from a single lamppost illuminated a small parking lot. Breaux's secondhand hybrid and an oversized pickup were the only vehicles in the lot.

"Any idea what kind of car the drug lord drives?"

Fear prickled my skin. "A nondescript four-door sedan. Why? Do you think he could be waiting for us?"

"He and his buddy might have rented their boat here. Asked around. Good thing there wasn't anything to tie us together."

"The truck might belong to the owner of the boat rental company. Did you notice it when you rented the boat?"

Breaux touched his bloody bandana. "I can't remember."

"What should we do?"

"Go for it," he said without hesitation. "It's our only option."

"Agreed. We worked too hard to give up now. I hope you still have the car keys."

He released the oar long enough to pat the front pocket of his jeans. "Yep. This isn't my first rodeo."

I dragged my oar through the dark water. Several smooth strokes brought us to a small dock where we tied Mam'zelle's rowboat.

"I'll call the rental office later and explain about their boat," Breaux said. "Though I'll leave out the part about it being demolished by a bewitched alligator."

"But it would make such a colorful footnote when you run for Congress." I kept my voice light.

"Ah. No."

We tiptoed side-by-side up the wooden ramp to the parking lot. The truck appeared to be empty, but we kept to the shadows just in case. The breeze blew a piece of paper onto my sneaker. It stuck to my shoelaces. When I bent to brush it off, I realized the paper was a twenty-dollar bill. A small thrill rushed through me. I held it up so Breaux could see it. "Breakfast," I whispered.

"Awesome! I was going to use my gas card at the mini mart." He extracted the keys from his pocket and unthinkingly pressed the remote. The resulting loud beep startled the night birds into silence. We both crouched and held our breath. When no one stirred in the truck, Breaux's shoulders drooped. "Sorry."

"Don't be, Congressman. We're fine."

He escorted me to the passenger's side door. "I wouldn't put too much stock in me becoming a Congress member."

"Why not?"

"Because we may have messed things up by travelling through time."

Remorse slammed me. "And magic always exacts a price."

Breaux opened the car door for me. "Always."

I climbed in and sank into the cushioned seat. "But why would Mam'zelle take the chance? Why would she endanger the very future she wanted for you?"

Breaux placed the backpack at my feet. "To motivate us. Maybe she wanted us to see what was possible so we'd work hard to attain it." He wiggled his eyebrows at me, then closed the car door.

Motivate you, maybe. We visited
your
bright future, not mine.
Then I remembered Ainslie's final words.
I will never stop searching for you.

Maybe my future wouldn't suck.

Breaux kept an eye on the truck as he walked around the front of the hybrid. "I think we're cool," he said after he opened the driver's side door, climbed in, and closed the door. For a minute he just sat there and stared out the windshield.

"You okay to drive? You've lost a lot of blood. And you haven't eaten or slept…"

"I'll be fine as soon as I get some food in me." He switched on the ignition. Music blared from the stereo. Startled, I banged my arm on the door.

"Sorry." Breaux lowered the volume. "Wake up!" He patted his cheeks. He shook his head, fluttered his lips, and then yawned wide enough to swallow a monster burger whole. "I think there's an all-night diner once we reach the main highway."

"If you're sure you're okay. I wish I knew how to drive so I could help." I forced my eyes as wide open as possible, determined to stay awake until we could stop somewhere. Fingers crossed, I followed the hybrid's headlights. They swept the parking lot as Breaux rotated the car toward the dark and deserted swamp road.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ainslie

"We're going back."

Yemaya stared at me as though I had grown a second head. "No. We're going to sleep for ten or twelve hours." She placed her elbows on the kitchen table and pointed her dessert fork at me. "Then we will go to the mall, where you will buy me a fabulous pair of boots and a burger. I'm iron deficient after…" Yemaya placed her fork on the plate next to her half-eaten strawberries and cheesecake. She stared down at her hands. "After seeing Christophe again."

I lowered my fork. "It must have been rough."

"I almost didn't recognize him. He should be nineteen now. Didn't he appear much older?"

"I thought he was thirty."

"Me too." Yemaya shook her head. "I wonder what caused him to age ten years?"

"Bad magic?"

"Maybe."

I pointed my fork in Yemaya's direction. "You survived your first dragon flight.

She glanced up. "I wasn't sure you'd come back for me."

"Ye of little faith." I
tsked.

"At some point I would have remembered my training and willed myself back to my body."

"I wish I had remembered in the Void. No. Scratch that. I'm glad I traversed the Void. It made me mentally tougher." I consumed the last strawberry on my plate. "Why didn't your spirit guide help you, or your totem animal? I thought all shamans had totem animals."

"They do. And mine did help. He created a cloud in his image so you could find me." She dabbed her mouth with a cloth napkin.

"Oh." I reached for my crystal goblet and took a sip of almond milk. "About New Orleans, I meant take a plane there. Not another shamanic journey."

"I figured. But even if I could afford it, the answer would be no. Besides, you don't need me anymore. Sophia will call or email you. The two of you will get caught up and you'll figure it out from there. Want my advice?"

"Sure."

"Now you know Sophia is alive. So why hasn't she contacted you in three years?"

Hurt knifed my chest. I stood, letting my chair scrape along the imported Italian floor tiles, and carried my plate to the sink. The cheesecake flattened into used cardboard in my stomach. Yemaya had tapped into my secret fear. I wanted her to leave.

Instead, Yemaya followed me to the sink and stood inches from my side while I rinsed my plate. Softening her tone, she said, "I saw how Sophia gazed at you before we were whisked away. She never forgot you. She must have been too afraid to make contact, but why? Figure it out. Otherwise she'll never return."

The tightness in my chest uncoiled. "Makes sense."

The antique clock on the mantle in the family room ticked. I loaded my plate and fork into the dishwasher. Yemaya finished her dessert, then rinsed her plate and passed it to me. I hesitated.

You survived the Void. A few germs won't hurt you.
Releasing a breath through my nose, I took her plate and fork and found places for them in the dishwasher. Then I washed my hands and dried them with a fresh paper towel, ignoring the clean cloth towel Mom kept on the counter. "I'll ask Mom to rehire the private investigator or use her legal connections to get an update on Sophia's parents."

"I never fired him," Mom said as she descended the servant stairs. "We kept the PI on retainer. He reports quarterly, unless there is an important development. I just received an email from him."

Yemaya and I exchanged a quick glance. "Has something happened?" I asked.

"Maybe I should go," Yemaya said.

"No. Stay," I said. "I mean, if you want to."

"Ainslie said you've been helping her, so do stay if you'd like."

"Okay. Thanks."

We converged around the kitchen table and sat down. Mom placed a purple file folder on the table and splayed her hands, palms down, on either side of it. "Sophia's parents were arrested a few days ago." She slid an email from the folder and studied it. "Authorities busted their meth lab near the border. They've been charged with multiple felonies, including possession with intent to manufacture, sell, and deliver methamphetamine, maintaining a dwelling place for a controlled substance, and possession of a meth precursor. The list goes on and on."

I gaped at her. "Wow."

"Sophia wasn't with them and there was no sign of a child on the premises."

"She's in New Orleans," I said.

Mom's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"We saw her during our shamanic journey." I glanced at Yemaya. She nodded in confirmation. "She could see me, too! I'm sure she'll contact me now that she knows I've been searching for her."

Mom's features puckered with concern. "Sweetie, I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"You didn't see the look in her eyes."

Mom frowned down at the purple folder. After a moment she opened it again and pulled out a second printed email. "You sure it was New Orleans?"

"Absolutely. We saw the Café Du Monde, Loyola, and Tulane."

She angled her head. "Your journey took you to the French Quarter and the Garden District?"

"Yes," I said. "And I need to go back for her."

"It may not be safe." Mom pulled another paper from the file — a mug shot of a guy with slicked-back black hair and deep acne scars around his mouth and along his jaw. "Did you see this guy during your spirit flight?"

Yemaya and I glanced at each other before shaking our heads. "Who is he?"

"An associate of Sophia's parents, a higher-up. The DEA has had all of them under observation for some time. He was seen threatening Sophia's parents before he and another lowlife traveled to Louisiana last week."

"Do you think it's a coincidence?" I asked.

Yemaya twisted her amethyst ring. "There are no coincidences."

The blood drained from my face. "Is the Drug Enforcement Agency tracking him?"

"That was the PI's impression. He'll notify me as soon as he learns more. With New Year's almost upon us…" She shrugged. "Be sure and let me know if you hear from Sophia. And if you do hear from her, ask her about this guy." Mom handed me the mug shot, then grimaced. "Sorry to spoil the party."

"You didn't," Yemaya said in a rush.

"I appreciate you telling me," I said.

Mom pushed back her chair and stood. "Well, I'll see you both in the morning."

"Good night, Mom."

"Yes. Good night," Yemaya said.

Mom blew me a kiss, then headed up the servant stairs.

"What scum." Yemaya pushed back her sleeves. "I hope Sophia will be okay."

"Me, too. About New Orleans — I'd pay for your trip. It wouldn't cost you a thing. You could check on Christophe and Shiloh Breaux Martine. Make Bayou happy."

Yemaya fingered the stem of her water goblet. "Thanks, but I can't leave town. I'm sorry. It's because of a family situation."

I tilted my head and studied her. A bad feeling crept over me. Maybe Sophia wasn't the only one with serious parental problems.

Yemaya nodded toward the stairs. "Your mama is pretty cool. She didn't doubt for a sec we'd gone on a spirit flight."

"Christmas with my Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun changed her. A lot."

"The dragon shamans?"

"Yes."

Yemaya pushed her chair back. "You have too much to do tomorrow. So I'm going to take a rain check on the new boots."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. If it rains, I'll use my purple rain boots."