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“Children, come fast,” Grandma DeSeroux hissed. “That’ll throw them off—but not for long.”
Then she grabbed Riley’s hand, pulling them forward, and extinguished the light from her staff. Darkness enveloped them. Thick darkness. Pure darkness. Jamal felt himself choking on it. He couldn’t see anything. But he held fast to Riley’s hand like his life depended on it.
Because in a way, it did.
“Malik, are you with me?” Jamal whispered to the darkness, to the shadows.
Silence.
Had he lost his brother forever?
But then—
“Don’t worry, I’m here…Little J,” rasped Malik. “Right behind you.”
Was it Jamal’s imagination, or did his voice sound weaker? He remembered Grandma DeSeroux’s words: I fear that your brother is already fading. He just hoped she could help them.
A few minutes later, Grandma DeSeroux lit up her staff again. The reddish light fell over a rustic hut, surrounded by a trickling stream. It looked simple yet idyllic, but, more important, like a safe place. One word rushed through Jamal’s head.
Home.
It looked like home.
“You’ll be safe here,” Grandma DeSeroux said, throwing open the front door and ushering them inside. “There are ancient protections.”
Her hut was more spacious than it appeared from the outside, like an optical illusion. How is this possible? Jamal wondered. Inside, a fire flickered, casting warm light over the comfy interior.
Masks of all shapes and sizes adorned the walls, while patterned fabrics covered the furniture and brightened the decor. There was a simple single bed, a lumpy old sofa, and a knobby rocking chair carved from cypress wood. Jamal glanced at the stained glass windows, wondering if the dolls were lurking outside, waiting for them to emerge from the hut. He just hoped her ancient protections would be enough to keep them away.
Grandma DeSeroux cast off her cloak, hung it on a peg, then settled into the rocking chair with a sigh. Jamal noticed that her black hair, braided back from her face, was streaked with gray. She still clutched her staff. Jamal got the feeling that she never set it aside.
Her sharp eyes fixed on them. “Have a seat, my children,” she said in her clear voice. “Make yourselves at home. My house is your house.”
Riley led Jamal to the sofa, where they settled in. He glanced down, realizing how filthy he was from their trek through the bayou, and immediately felt bad for tarnishing her clean hut. Malik flowed over the floor and took his place by Jamal.
“Oh my, your poor brother,” Grandma DeSeroux said, her eyes following Malik as his dark form moved across the floorboards. “Tell me everything, my child. Leave nothing out.”
Jamal swallowed hard to still his nerves, then explained everything that had transpired: his grandmother’s leaving him her skull necklace when she passed away; Dr. Facilier’s coming after him and promising him the future he most desired; Jamal’s trading his brother’s trumpet to him instead of the necklace, then waking up to a world where he had replaced his brother altogether.
“And then I found out that my brother had become a walking, talking shadow,” Jamal finished, casting his eyes down to the creaky old floorboards. “And it’s all my fault. I never should have trusted the shadow man.”
Grandma DeSeroux shook her head. She rose from her rocking chair and poured them mugs of steaming herbal tea from the pot simmering gently over the fire.
“My child, that’s what he does,” she said, handing Jamal a mug. The mug was warm—and it did make him feel better. “He preys on folks’ deepest, darkest fears, then makes them an offer they can’t refuse. He promises them what they most desire. But it’s always a trick to get what he really wants. He’s fooled more poor souls than I can count.”
“But…can you help me?” rasped Malik, his voice fading in and out.
Jamal realized that it wasn’t his imagination: his brother was growing weaker.
Grandma DeSeroux noticed it, too. She looked worried. “I fear he is beginning to fade from this world. I’ve seen this sort of dark magic before. Soon your brother will cease to exist altogether. You don’t have much time to reverse the curse.”
“Grandma, you have to help him,” Riley said. “You’re our only hope.”
“Please, how do we fix it?” Jamal added. “There must be a way to help. I’ll do anything.”
“Child, I wish it were that easy,” Grandma DeSeroux said, lowering her head. It was as if a shadow crossed her face, aging her. “This sort of ancient magic isn’t easily undone. It is nearly unbreakable.”
Jamal felt a jolt of fear. “What do you mean? It can’t be reversed?”
