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I cringed. This was not going well.
“It’s more like what’s got into me. The artifact was a dweomer, and my body absorbed it.”
Chastity stared at me in total shock, and she tried to move her mouth, but no sound came out. Her jaw opened and closed like a fish trying to breathe in oxygen-depleted water, which was scary to watch. My best friend was cool, calm, and always collected—the result of being raised by a Voodoo priestess and seeing weird shit every day of her life.
“It gave me neat new abilities.”
“New abilities!” exploded Chastity. “Ki kaka sa!”
In my limited Creole acquired from living with Chastity, I understood she was calling bullshit on me in a Creole French accent. If she didn't love me like a sister, she'd make tracks now, which made me feel like a piece of kaka, but I can’t change the present.
“Wha, what dweomer is it?” she stuttered.
“Thorn called it the Hand of Belial.”
The color drained from Chastity's face, and she put her hand to her mouth, and my insides turned cold when her reaction told me I was well and truly fucked.
“Len,” she said a shade above a whisper, “You've got to get that thing out of you.”
“Well, that’s the plan. Thorn—”
“What?” she fairly screeched. “Are you still hanging around that gangster?”
“This is his house,” I said in a deadly serious voice.
Another round of Creole sputters erupted from her mouth, with more invocation of the saints. She stood and turned to the living room.
“Len, I love you like the sister I never had, but this is a stratosphere above a simple Voodin priestess’ pay grade. This is bad shit, like ending your life shit, and “kill-the-people-near-you” shit. Do you know what this Hand of Belial is? It’s called the hand of wickedness. It possesses the essence of all vices. It corrupts the person who possesses it and the people within their orbit. Itcommandsdemons, Len. Commands. Get it. You can call hell creatures by name, and they appear.”
When she said that, a connection in my head clicked. Thorn had said he thought I compelled him to proposition me, but what if this artifact in my chest prompted him? Did the artifact force him to be there that night in the bayou?
“Every vice, including lust?” I asked.
“What the hell!” she spat. “I just told you that the soul of methamphetamines resides in your body, and you’re worried about your libido?”
“No,” I said. “It’s… Okay. Never mind. And thanks to you I’m properly scared shitless, now. Thank you. So what do I do about it?”
She sucked in a breath, and for a second, my utterly calm friend returned. But I see I'm on shaky ground here, and she could freak out any second.
“Oh, by theloa,this is a big mess, Len.”
“How about reading your cards for me?” I said hopefully. Chastity gave incredibly insightful readings. It was how I met her when she was giving Tarot readings in a store.
She shook her head. “Not here. Not in this house. My skin crawls from sitting here, so I must leave. But I will call you when I get settled. There is an older priest and priestess I can speak with.”
I nodded and searched in my pocket for a coin. It was a ritual for Chastity. Crossing her palm with silver would set the intention of what I sought. But her lips drew a tight line as I put a quarter on the table.
“No, Len. I cannot take money for this. Not from you.”
I cocked my head. “That never stopped you before.”
“Mon cher, as much as I love you, I can’t take anything from you until that hideous thing is gone and we do a cleansing on you.” She cocked her head. “Did you stop at the apartment with that thing in you?”
“It’s my apartment, too,” I replied.
“Then I can’t go back there either. I suppose I can stay…Never mind. The less you know the better.”
She grabbed her purse and her suitcase before she walked to the door. She looked over her shoulder at me.
