She pulled out a card.
“Chariot, reversed.” Ick. There was no such thing as a bad card, but this was yet another one of caution. “Okay, so no reckless actions.”
“You read cards?” Rene asked.
She turned to look up at him, one hand going to her hip.
“My journal,” she said once more.
“I’m working on it,” he said. “Really. You can do tarot?”
“Yeah,” she said, replacing the card. Unlike Jayden, she didn’t feel a need to hide herself from Rene.
“I want one,” he said. He moved closer, digging into her book bag.
“I can’t just do it on the spot!” she objected. “I have to sit and concentrate.”
“You’re smart. What this one mean?”
Adrienne rolled her eyes at him, but relented. She snatched it out of his hand. “Strength, reversed. It means you’re stronger than you think.”
“Even the damn cards want me to be a warrior.” He started away. “This is the last time I walk you home.”
“My journal.” Adrienne replaced the card and then followed with a sigh. “Rene, it’s important.”
“Jax ain’t taken off his mask in five years out of respect for your sister. If you think I can just ask him and he gives me the book, you a fool. He won’t do it for a pretty girl like you and he won’t do it for his brother. That book’s going nowhere.”
Pretty. In the course of a few hours, she’d had two guys compliment her. It soothed the pain in her ear to know that tough Rene found her pretty, no matter how irritated he was about walking her home again.
Adrienne nibbled on a cookie, quiet for a moment. “Rene do you think Jax will talk to me about my sister?”
“No.”
“Did she have any friends? Anyone else I can talk to?”
He glanced down at her. “Not dressed like that.”
She purposely didn’t look at her bloodied shirt. She was feeling light-headed enough as it was.
“I’ll change clothes. Then we can go?” she asked quickly.
“What makes you think I got time for you?”
“Because I know where your aunt works, and I’ll tell her if you don’t.”
Rene stopped walking and stared at her. Adrienne held her breath. He muttered something then spun and began walking again.
“C’mon.”
She went. When he didn’t answer, she sank into troubled silence. It seemed like learning more about her sister was within reach, yet no one was willing to talk to her about it. Not her father, not Jax, not Rene. The prickly gang member was the most likely to help her but even he was close-lipped.
They reached her building.
“You got five minutes. Go change,” Rene said gruffly. He took up a position against the building, leaning back with his arms crossed.
“Really?” she asked, brightening.
He tossed his head toward the door.
Adrienne ran. She waited impatiently for the elevator then changed at the speed of light when she reached her daddy’s apartment. With no time to wash the blood from her hair or cut it all to the same length, she shoved it all under a hat. She barely made the five minute deadline and burst through the front door in time to see Rene making an exchange with another man who looked like a gang member or drug dealer.
Whatever Rene received, he shoved in his pocket without acknowledging the other man now headed down the street. Adrienne looked at him critically.
“Are you on drugs?” she asked, approaching.
“You want to see this person or not?” he returned.
“Yes.”
“Then mind your own damn business. C’mon.”
Adrienne said nothing and joined him walking down the sidewalk. He didn’t go far but cut through a vacant alley, crossed a street, entered another alley and walked half a block to an equally run down area with mom-and-pop eateries, apartment buildings and small businesses. Graffiti decorated the walls and curbs while trash clogged the shallow gutters.
He stopped at the Coffee Loa. Decals of veves decorated the windows, which were covered by heavy black drapery. She read the small wording printed in one window.
Bokor services available upon request. Results not guaranteed
Rene walked in.
Adrienne, however, hesitated, hand going to her hurt ear. The last voodoo priestess she met cut off her earlobe.
Rene waited. “Won’t no one attack you here.” He held out one arm.
Adrienne stepped forward. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him as he had the first time he walked her home, assuring her that she would be all right. She relaxed against him.
She entered timidly, glancing around the room. Half of it was a café with a dozen small tables, the other half a store. Haitian and African décor, altars, kits for creating ceremonial veves, spells-in-a-jar, dried animal parts, herbs and other voodoo supplies and knickknacks lined the shelves of the shallow front of the store. A woman in tribal African dress and head wrap sat behind the counter, reading a romance novel.
“Hey, Candace,” Rene said, approaching the counter. “Brought someone who wanted to meet you.” Candace set down her novel and stood. She was tall and slender with intelligent, dark eyes that settled on Adrienne with caution and curiosity.
“The cursed girl’s sister,” she guessed.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Adrienne.”
Adrienne hung back from the counter, waiting for a pair of shears to appear in the woman’s hand. Candace studied her for a moment then moved towards a curtain blocking off the back of the shop from view from the front.
“You must have many questions,” she said.
“I do,” Adrienne replied.
“Come. We will talk.”
Adrienne gave a sidelong glance at Rene, whose response was to push her towards Candace. Adrienne went.
“You have nothing to fear here.” Candace’s smile was kind. “I smell fresh blood. Are you okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. I got hurt today,” Adrienne murmured.
“Come in. Rene, bring my calming tea.”
Adrienne followed her into a small, comfortable room with a table on one side. At the other side was an altar with candles and a wooden image of Papa Legba, the god of good fortune, also known as a good-natured trickster. She relaxed, relieved to see Candace’s family god was not one of the darker gods.
Adrienne sat on a stool opposite Candace.
“Let me see your hand, Adrienne,” Candace said.
Adrienne held her right hand out. Candace took it in her cool palms and peered at it closely. Adrienne waited apprehensively, relieved when Candace leaned back. The woman appeared thoughtful rather than freaked out.
“What do you know of this curse on your family?” Candace asked.
“Not much,” Adrienne admitted. Her hand went to her shoulder automatically. “It’s old. Mama says it claimed my sister and any firstborns in our family.”
“You don’t know why your family bears it?”
“No. Can you tell?” Adrienne lifted her palm curiously.
“I can’t see your past. This type of curse usually is one doled out for punishment of only the greatest of crimes involving blood rites,” Candace said. She frowned, gazing into the distance for a moment. “Horrific crimes.”
“You think my family did wrong?”
“It’s possible. Or you had an enemy whose vengeance knew no limits or morals.”
“No one in my mom’s family would tell me this,” Adrienne admitted. “I asked all kinds of people for help.”
“It’s dangerous to speak of it. I am risking drawing the attention of the dark spirits enforcing the curse, which is why we are seated here to discuss it.” Candace pointed to the veves and protective symbols drawn on the floor beneath the table. “It seems wrong to bear the curse without knowing why.” Her brown eyes were sympathetic.