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“Black magic?” I pounce on the words as random snapshots of memories flood my mind:
Frog.
Sunshine.
Drowning sketchpad.
What happened to me in Colombia is still a missing jigsaw piece. There’s a time jump of around fourteen hours between the morning and waking up on the bathroom floor in agony, and I can’t recall it no matter what.
And why am I thinking about this now?
“Yeah, but get this…” Ivy’s jade eyes have taken on that same wicked gleam as Rob’s. “All these narcotics and rooster feathers are being imported from Colombia. Same place. Suesca near Bogotá. And guess what’s rumored to still be practiced there? Witchcraft.” She lets that word settle, or ratherunsettlethe moment before continuing. “For some of the smaller cartels it’s bigger than Catholicism. They use it to murder their rivals, gain notoriety…”
“Does it work?”
She shrugs. “Lady, there’s some weird stuff out there. I find it best to respect superstition and keep an open mind. Remember that haunted house story we did last year, Rob?”
“Brujería,” I blurt out, the cogs in my mind whirring again.
Ivy frowns. “Yeah, that’s right. How did you—”
“I’m half Colombian. My aunt used to tell me stories about them all the time.”
“You think your forensics guy might have seen more bodies with this logo?” asks Rob, switching tack.
Ivy nods. “He really wants to meet this week. I reckon he’s got something big for us.”
“Good.” Rob straightens up with a wince. “Switch to burner phones. Call me as soon as the meeting’s over and watch your backs. If this is gang related, they’ll see us coming before we’ve even arrived.” He opens the door and turns his smile down into a frown. “I’m sorry, ladies,” he says loudly. “There’s just no story here so go find me something else.”
“Sure thing, Rob,” says Ivy with a shrug, as I catch the ghost of a wink from him.
Whatever you’re hiding, Edier, we’re going to find it, one way or another.
* * *
After an unproductive afternoonwhich mostly consists of avoiding dart-like questions from Ivy, I leave the office on time.
Walking through reception, collecting various bodyguards en route, I’m sliding into the back of their SUV when my sister, Thalia, calls.
“I’m not going to say it.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “No, fuck it, I can’t help myself.”
“Okay, shoot.” I brace myself for a bombardment of health-related queries. No one knows about my latest appointment, and I don’t want them to.I need to figure out a plan of resistance before I’m ordered back to my father’s island.
“Do you thinkRumoursis the greatest Fleetwood Mac album in existenceorthe greatest album of all time?”
I burst out laughing at this, caught off guard in the sweetest way. “That’s easy, Thalia. It’s both!”
“I knew you’d say that. You’re such a Gen X trapped in the body of a nearly twenty-two-year-old goddess. Okay, next question… Do you think they would have had that same angsty creative vibe if they hadn’t all been screwing, fighting, and getting divorced during the making of that record?” Before I can answer, she’s collapsing into laughter herself. I can hear a male voice in the background. “So, Santi just asked why I was giving you the recap of our entire relationship, minus the divorce part. Though I’m pretty sure I threatened it a couple of million times when we first married.”
“Thalia—”
“Final question,” she says, cutting me off. “Do you prefer sushi or Thai?”
“Sushi, why?”
“Great, because I’m on my way to Manhattan to take you out for dinner. Santi’s got some bad man meeting with Grayson and he’s dropping me off on the way. Oh, andMamáandTíaAnna just landed in Teterboro and are planning to join us there.”
“Are you for real?” I’m stunned. I haven’t seen my family in weeks, and I’ve missed them so much.
