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“If she’d just get some damn couches,” I grumble, shifting uncomfortably on the floor cushions on which I sat.
Seer chuckles quietly beside me. “No…,” he mutters serenely. “That would just ruin the ambiance of the place.”
“Ambiance, my ass,” I say with a snicker. “A few couches wouldn’t hurt. Besides, she could cast a spell on the furniture and make them…magical.”
Seer laughs and shakes his head at me. “I don’t….”
“You lads talking shit about me?”
Mama’s deep voice interrupts Seer’s next words. We each reflectively sit up straighter as Mama appears behind the rope curtains knotted with several bones and other oddities. Mama is a tall Haitian woman in her late fifties with long shiny dreads and graced curves that hint at a youthful refinement. Her exotic black eyes always seem to see into a person’s soul. And even as she settles on her floor cushion beyond the little table that separates us, she’s looking deep into my eyes, her shimmering red lips pulled up in the barest hint of a smile.
“How have you been, Mama?” Seer asks with a fond smile.
“I’m as good as can be,” Mama replies, turning her attention to Seer. “The spirits have blessed me with great energy today. Would you both like some tea?”
“We’ll pass on the invitation, Mama,” I reply. “We’re here for serious business.”
“And what would that be?” Mama asks with a slight frown.
“Do you know of any spell or rituals that could make someone forget parts of their lives?” I ask. “Like…one that makes a person into two separate personalities.”
Mama tilted her head, and her brows deepened in a thoughtful frown. “I can think of several spells that would make one forget their past or lose a certain part of their memories. Just simple….”
“No, Mama,” Seer says, shaking his head. “It’s more complicated than that. She doesn’t remember things she does the night before. It’s like she’s a dangerous weapon at night but back to an average office worker by morning, with no memory of the previous night. And what’s more, she goes into a seizure when the memory is forced.”
“That sounds like a clouding spell,” Mama replies. “It is done in the midst of the devil’s breath with the powers of the Seven Serpents of Hell. A person is given a task they must complete under the cover of darkness. During that time, their souls are incapacitated, clouded over, and have no idea what the body is doing. It’s the darkest of dark sorceries and should never be practiced. And you should know…,” Mama’s piercing black eyes find mine. “Whoever the spell is cast upon is in mortal danger if they do not take the dragon tears to reverse the spell within seven days.”
My heart slams hard against my chest. “What?” I breathe in disbelief. “Wh…what’s dragon tears?”
“The clouding spell is poison to the soul,” Mama says. “And the dragon tears is an antidote that curbs the spell’s poison from eating the bearer from within.”
I can feel beads of sweat forming at my temples.Seven days…Abigail has been at the clubhouse for four days. “Can the spell be lifted?” I ask with more calm than I feel.
Mama shrugs. “Maybe…,” she replies. “But it can only be lifted by the person who cast the spell, and even that is dangerous.”
“Can you give us some dragon tears, then?” Seer asks earnestly.
“I don’t have any I’m afraid,” Mama says. “The antidote is difficult to come by. But if someone is using this spell, they must possess the antidote. The one who bears this spell…what is she to you?”
“Nothing,” I reply quickly –too quickly.
But it’s the truth. To me, Abigail Miller is just bait to ensnare Anderson Grey. It doesn’t matter that I keep drowning in the luminous pool of her enchanting hazel eyes or that the thought of her in pain makes my chest clench painfully. All of that doesn’t matter. That is exactly what I keep telling myself…
“I ask because she could die,” Mama says, her attention solely focused on me. It’s as if she’s trying to pass some sort of personal message to me. “For seven days, the poison will spread within her, slowly feeding on her energy. She’ll get weaker and suffer incomprehensible pains. Finally, she’ll die slowly, with her soul rotten.”
My chest goes tight, and I can barely breathe. I fist my hands on my thighs and clench my teeth to grind down on my rising panic. I don’t panic…ever.
My insides churn with regret and guilt as the consequences of my actions begin to dawn on me. Abigail could die, and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought her to the clubhouse.
“Can you help her, Mama?” Seer quietly asks. He must have sensed my agitation because he keeps his tone level. “We need to keep her alive.”
“I may know a way,” Mama replies. “But you need to bring her down to me. I need to be sure of what we’re dealing with. Give me your palm, Pocus. Let me read your fortune.”
I shake my head. “Mama, I don’t….”
She pins me with her black, hard look, and her lips raise in an encouraging smile. “Let me see your hand, son,” Mama says, holding out her hand to me. God knows that getting my palm read is the furthest thing from my mind right now, but with the look of steely resolve in Mama’s deep black eyes, it seems like I don’t have a choice anyway.
“Fine, go ahead,” I grumble, placing my right palm on her outstretched one. Mama’s grip immediately tightened on my hand, and her eyes drifted close. When she opened her eyes again, they were a smoky gray.
