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Like he could read her mind, Malachi’s hands on her back pressed gently,until Joy was fully lying down on top of him, her head resting on his shoulder.
“Okay?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes.” Joy sighed.
She’d told herself to take several steps back, but instead, she’d run full-fucking-speed ahead. But what was she supposed to do? She’d had a mini-panic attack, he’d tried to calm her down, then he’dtouchedher—thenshewas touchinghim, and he’d confessed to not being touched in a long time, and she was just supposed to what?Stop?
Okay, maybe. Yes.
But then he’d kissed her, and Joy was lost.
She trembled with memory. Malachi’s arms tightened around her in response, making her heart thump. Fuck, she didn’t want to think about this right now.She knew she wouldn’t sleep, but she closed her eyes anyway, feeling as close to peaceful as she’d felt in a very long time.
EIGHT
Aunty Paloma lived in a quiet neighbourhood downtown. It was located within a fancy, private little estate, with a uniformed gateman who asked who Joy was here to see. He told them to wait while he went to his gatehouse to confirm, before waving them through.
If she were being honest, the neighbourhood kind of freaked her out a little. Uniformed houses with uniformed mowed lawns sat in neat little rowsthatformed concentric circles which faced what was probably the neighbourhood’s square.
She wasn’t sure if the creepy uniformist nightmare was better than what she’d expected the last time she’d come here—two weeks ago now, before she’d summoned Malachi. With all the stories her family on her mother’s side had pandered, she’d thought Aunty Paloma would be living in some dilapidated hut in the middle of a forest or something. She’d known they’d been exaggerating, of course, but there had to be some truth to all that fantasy, right? Apparently not.
When Joy had spotted her aunt’s number and address amongst the things her mother had left behind, she hadn’t thought it was a coincidence. Joy hadn’t even known her mum and aunt had been in contact, let alone knew where each other lived. The extended family had cut Aunty Paloma off with a swiftnessfor two reasons: one, whenher husband had died under“mysterious” circumstances;and two, when she’dalmost immediatelydenounced Christianity afterward and started preaching about demons and old gods.
Aunty Paloma had been her favourite aunt growing up; she was generous with her purse, and she’d always treated Joy like she was a tiny adult. In a sea of adults who saw a child constantly questioning things as the child beingrude, Aunty Paloma’s easy indulgence in her endless curiosity felt like a breath of fresh air. Despite the shock that her mother had seemingly kept in contact all these years, she must’ve still feared the influence Aunty Paloma might’ve had on her child because she’d never once told Joy they were on speaking terms.
Before her mother had died, the last time Joy had seen her aunt had been Christmas nearly fifteen years ago, when visiting their village—where her mother had grown up—had been a yearly Christmas tradition. It was one of those childhood memories that were so vivid they ironically felt like a dream.
Her uncle’s—Aunty Paloma’s late husband’s—funeral had literally been a few months before that Christmas, but Joy had never seen her aunt glow so brightly. It was like a fire had lit up inside her after her husband’s death, instead of his death putting the fire out, like it’d done to Joy after her parents had left this earth.
When Aunty Paloma had denounced Christianity atdinner, an eleven-year-old Joy hadn’t understoodthe reason fortheoutrage. Wasn’t the whole shindig about Christianity being that you had a choice? Of course, the other choice was going straight to hell, but even at that tender age, Joy thought if people wanted to damn themselves, then they should have the right to do so.
After all the gift-giving and celebrations, and theshockhad died down from Aunty Paloma’s announcement, she had secretly pulled Joy aside.
“What are we doing?” Joy remembered whispering excitedly. They’d left her grandparents’ hut, and were in the village’s abandoned secondary school behind the house.
“I have another gift for you,” Aunty Paloma said, also whispering.
It was an anklet, made of cowrie beads stained slightly red. The red glowed, like the beads were jewels. Joy loved it immediately.
“For me?”
“Yes,” Aunty Paloma said, smiling as she tied the threads on the ends around Joy’s left ankle. It sat pretty, making Joy for some reason appreciate the sight of her own feet. “It’s for protection.”
“Protection against what?” Joy said, too busy admiring the way the light glinted off the red, and how nice it looked against her dark brown skin.
“Anything. Everything. Anything that might hurt you.”
Joy glanced at her. “Like what?”
“You and your questions.” Her aunt laughed kindly. “It’s protection specifically against demons.” Then her eyes had looked strangely bright in the darkness. “Or the Devil,” she added lightly, the brightness gone.
“Isn’t that what my rosary is for?” an oblivious Joy had wondered, rolling her eyes.
Aunty Paloma laughed. “Yes, but aren’t two heads better than one?”
Joy pursed her lips, but she was nodding. “I guess so.”
“Then it stands to reason that two means of protection are better than one, abi?”
