Authors: Lizzy Ford
Distress growing, Adrienne nibbled on her lower lip, staring at the floor a couple feet in front of the chair. She found herself gripping the dog tags for comfort and praying to the family gods that the protective spell was enough to keep away whatever danger people seemed to think was headed her way.
Unable to understand why the woman showed herself now, after leaving anonymous notes for two weeks, Adrienne focused on what she knew. She had to figure out the song from her sister’s journal. Jax, Therese, the curse, the robed man … all were somehow tied to the song encoded in the journal.
Adrienne pulled out the sheaf of papers with trembling hands. She blinked away tears, studying the first page again. She wrote out the notes in the lower margin then paused, frowning. She knew the notes, but a string of notes wouldn’t give her the rhythm required to turn it into a true song.
She gazed at the first line of the journal and began counting the letters and spaces between the circled letters. The rests and slides were there, disguised as more letters and spaces.
She wanted to cry but concentrated instead. She drew an uneven staff and bar lines then began to fill in the notes and their lengths and pauses between.
After ten grueling minutes, she had the first three lines decoded into what resembled a tiny musical score.
She started to hum the tune, coughed loudly then stopped, eyes watering.
She couldn’t sing. No matter how horrible school would be Monday, she had to find Kimmie and ask her to lift the curse. There was no other guaranteed way to get rid of the hex preventing her from singing.
Adrienne stared listlessly into space for a moment. Monday would be the worst day of her life, but Candace was right. If she didn’t go back and try to reason with Kimmie, she’d end up disappearing or dying like her sister. The curse might take the rest of her sisters.
Therese discovered how to stop it through the song. Why didn’t she do it? Was it incomplete, inaccurate or did it not work when she tried?
They were questions she should’ve asked an hour before but didn’t.
Adrienne covered her face with her hands, feeling very alone. She drew a deep breath and pulled out the iPad. She responded to Jayden first.
J-
Thank you so much for today. You’re the only good part of my life right now. I’ll see you at school Monday.
A.
She sent it then systematically deleted all the horrible emails from kids at school. She paused at Emma’s, her guilt making her want to cry again.
Emma,
I’m so sorry I didn’t have lunch with you Friday. I was stupid. If you don’t want to have lunch with me again, I totally understand. If you do, I’ll buy us both salad on Monday.
Adrienne
It didn’t seem like enough, but she didn’t know what else to say to her friend. If she had the money, she’d offer to buy Emma lunch every day for as long as it took to win her back.
If I don’t get my voice back, I can use my album money.
Adrienne sighed, not wanting to consider what happened if Kimmie refused and Candace’s tea didn’t work.
“Why you down here?”
She looked up, not noticing Rene’s approach until he stood right in front of her.
She shrugged.
He sat down in the chair beside her, managing to take up the whole space. He hung his arms over the sides of the chair and sat with his knees a part. She envied him for a moment, wishing she was as unapproachable looking as he appeared to be. People were probably afraid to embarrass him in public or break into his apartment to leave mysterious sticky notes. Even the Red Man would be leery of executing the curse.
Residents that had ignored her eyed the muscular thug in baggy clothing seated beside her.
“How did Jax lose his way?” she asked.
“None of your business.”
“It is now.” She slapped the sticky note down on his arm. “Some crazy person broke into my apartment to tell me that.”
Rene caught the note before it fell, glancing up at the tremor in her voice.
“Who broke in?” he asked warily.
“I don’t know. Some woman. There was something … unnatural about her.”
He read the note and passed it back, unaffected. “She’s wrong. You need to keep away from him.”
“So … what? Jax is in trouble?”
He said nothing.
“No, I get it now,” she said, angry and upset. “Jax wants me to go home. Maybe because I remind him too much of Therese. You’re the voodoo warrior gang member who’s supposed to be protecting people like me, except you won’t stand up to your brother. In the meantime, the Red Man is fixin’ to show up in my house and kill me, because of some curse started by people I ain’t never heard of, but who happen to be related to me. I could stop it, but I can’t sing!”
Rene rested his head against the back of the chair, watching her calmly.
“Am I right?” she demanded.
“Not really.”
Rather than anger her further, his words crushed her. Adrienne pushed the things in her lap to the side of the chair and pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. She couldn’t cry. She was too angry.
And scared. The sticky notes appearing hadn’t bothered her, but their delivery by a woman who might’ve been possessed by her dead sister –
that
was something worth fearing.
“I just want to be normal,” she murmured. “Instead, I’m just waiting for some stupid curse to get me.”
“It’s not that bad.” Rene sounded distracted.
Adrienne twisted her head to see him. “How so?”
“You ain’t dead yet.”
“You are getting on my everlasting nerve, Rene.”
“If you angry, you fine. If you hurt, you alive. Be grateful.”
“I can’t be grateful. I’m scared.”
Rene shifted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was quiet for a long moment.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Do me a favor,” he replied. “Don’t leave your apartment tomorrow.”
“I have to sing …” she stopped, throat tightening. “Never mind. I guess I won’t be singing at the church anytime soon. But I do have to work.”
“Call in sick. Quit. Just don’t leave the house.”
“Why?”
“Something’s not … right,” he said. “I don’t know what. But I know I can figure it out. Work on your sister’s journal.”
Adrienne considered. It did sound like a good idea – staying home to put together the music mystery her sister left. She didn’t have to tell her daddy she was skipping. She’d send him off like she did the past three Sundays, telling him she’d be at church then at the psychic’s. He used Sundays to wrap up any outstanding work from the shop and to do paperwork. He’d yet to come home early, so he’d never know if she stayed home.
“What if … she comes back?” she asked tentatively.
“She won’t.” Rene was firm. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“You gonna sit down here all day?”
“No.”
“You are moodier than any woman I’ve ever met.” Puzzled, she sensed his mood was turning from cooperative to stonewalling, like usual. “I’ll stay home tomorrow, if you tell me what’s going on.”
“I will later,” he said gruffly and stood. “Candace walk you home or you just act stupid and walk on your own?”
She said nothing.
“You just asking for it,” he snapped, frustration clear. “I’m going out of town for a couple days. Stay away from Jax and don’t walk anywhere alone. You got it?”
She rolled her eyes and nodded.
Satisfied, Rene left.
Adrienne watched him walk out of the building. People moved out of the thug’s path, and she almost smiled. She wondered why he was so nice to her, if Jax insisted, because of Therese.
She stayed downstairs until her daddy got back from work then joined him in the elevator. He was tired looking today. For his sake, Adrienne put on a smile she didn’t feel.
He didn’t need the added burden of her life issues.
“So, we gonna talk about Candace, Daddy?” she asked, needing a distraction from her worry.
“What about her?” he asked gruffly.
“Like … maybe you can tell me why it’s okay for you do date a black woman and I can’t even
study
with a black kid from school?” she challenged.
“Black man and white girl.” He shook his head. “Ain’t no excuse for that.”
“Daddy, Jayden’s father is like some sort of genius and he’s rich. He’s smart and sweet and plays football. Football, Daddy. You
love
football,” she pointed out.
“Every man born south of the Mason-Dixon line loves football, if he wants to call himself a man,” he replied. “Don’t mean I want black football players in my living room.”
“You’re not making sense,” she complained. “Candace is beautiful and nice. It’s not fair!”
“You’re a different kind of girl, Addy,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Almost unnatural like. I don’t know where you get this stuff. Therese never would’ve let no black man in my house.”
Therese was in love with a voodoo-practicing gang member!
Adrienne crossed her arms, moping. Her daddy didn’t know anything about Therese. She wondered if anyone actually did. It seemed liked every year her sister only got smarter and sweeter and more religious and better than Adrienne in every way.
Who had Therese really been? She practiced voodoo and dated someone she could never bring home to her daddy. Was she really what others thought she was?
For the first time in her life, Adrienne wished more people knew about Therese’s dark streak and how she’d dabbled in black magic. Maybe the comparisons would stop.
This thought helped ease some of the guilt Adrienne felt at lying to her daddy. Perfect, beautiful Therese had kept secrets, which meant it was okay if Adrienne did, too.
Like seeing Jayden and trying to break the family curse. Her daddy could never understand these things, but she began to think that her long-dead sister could.
We aren’t as different as I thought.
On the other side of town, Jayden opened his eyes, awaking from a deep sleep. A glance at the clock on his car dashboard revealed it was just past dinnertime.
He rubbed his head, not understanding how he’d just fallen asleep in the parking lot of a gas station. His car was boiling hot, and sweat soaked his clothing and ran down his face. He started the car and rolled down the window, gasping in air. His phone had six texts and three missed calls, one from Mickey, one from his mother and one from Tara.
Where you at? Party starts in an hour. Need ride!
Mickey had texted two hours before.
His head felt like it was stuffed with wool. Jayden looked around him, uncertain what he was doing in the city on a Saturday. He came to this gas station sometimes after he left his mother’s, but he didn’t recall seeing his mother today.
What the hell was wrong with him? How did he not know where he spent the day?
He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Mickey to see if he still needed a ride.
Jayden waited for his air conditioner to chill the car’s interior before rolling up the window. His thoughts began to clear without the oppressive heat, and he pulled on his seatbelt.
He drove home, unable to explain his blackout and the missing time. He tried hard to remember what he’d planned to do today without success. By the time he got home, he was troubled but glad that the strange headache was gone.
He parked out back and went in through the kitchen. The windows of his father’s manor glowed warmly, casting cheerful yellow light into the garden. He breathed in the scent of night blooming jasmine deeply, then paused, recognizing a second scent.
Vanilla. It reminded him of something, though he couldn’t quite place what.
Shaking his head, he was upbeat by the time he walked in through the kitchen, the headache forgotten. The family chef was joined by an assistant in the kitchen that smelled richly of homemade bread, barbeque sauce, steamed veggies and some sort of fruit torte.
Jayden’s stomach growled. He waved at the chef and continued through to the staircase leading to the second floor. Tara had texted twice more while he drove home, demanding he return to take her to the party.
He barely reached the top of the stairs when Chelsea let out one of her shrieks of anger. Seconds later, Izzy joined her.
Jayden grimaced, not looking forward to dealing with the twins when they were upset. He covered his ears.
“Stop it!” Tara shouted above their screams. She stormed out of the girls’ playroom, nearly running him over in the process. She was dressed in a slinky party dress, her hair and makeup done and her jewelry on. “Jay! What took you so long! You have any idea what I’ve been dealing with?”
Jayden grated his teeth.
“I’m getting my shoes, and we’re going.” Tara was furious. She punched him in the arm and swept by him. “We’re already late, Jayden!”
“All right,” he said.
The girls’ screams grew louder, and he flinched, some of his headache returning.
There were days when he could handle them and days when he just closed the door and went to his room.
Today was one of those days.
He pulled the door to their playroom closed. It muffled the horrible screeching without silencing it, but it was good enough for now.
Jayden went to his room and closed the door. He glanced down at himself, unsettled to discover he didn’t remember getting dressed this morning or why he was in chinos and a polo instead of jeans, his normal weekend clothing.
Like he’d been trying to impress someone. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember who that was.
His cell rang, and he answered automatically.
“Why you didn’t tell me you’re going to see Grandmama tomorrow?” his mother demanded.
“Hello to you, too, Mama,” he answered, rubbing his eyes.
“You weren’t going to take me?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you lie to me, boy. Just because you’re your father’s son, you don’t get to lie to me.”
“Mama, I’m not going to see Grandmama tomorrow. I don’t care what her spirits are telling her,” he said with tried patience.
“No, Jay, she called me and said you’re coming tomorrow and did I want to come, too? And I told her you hadn’t even told me. She said you were coming to talk about the girl whose ear she cut off.”
“Grandmama did what now?” he asked, surprised.
“She cut the ear off that girl you brought out there. What wrong with you, Jay?”
“I didn’t bring any girl out there, except Kimmie,” he replied, baffled to the point of amusement. Where did his grandmama come up with this stuff? “I’d remember if Grandmama cut off Kimmie’s ear.”
“Kimmie ain’t white.”
“Can I call you tomorrow? I’m kind of trying to go somewhere tonight,” he said, rolling his eyes. He kicked off his shoes and went to his closet, stopping in the doorway.
The girls had been in the box of junk his grandmama gave him. He frowned at the cat paw keychain and voodoo good luck charms strung along the floor of his closet.
“You lie to me then want to get rid of me,” his mother complained.
“No, Mama,” he said with a grunt, kneeling to grab the junk on his floor and toss them back into the box at the back of the closet. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Silence then, “You wearing your dog tags, Jay?”
He touched his neck, about to reassure his mother when he realized he wasn’t. Jayden glanced down and tugged shirt away from his chest to see if they’d fallen down and gotten caught somewhere inside.
“Actually, no,” he replied. “Weird. Pretty sure I had them on earlier today.”
“Grandmama told you never to take them off. That’s a family heirloom. What’s wrong with you, Jayden?”
“I’m sure they’re around here somewhere,” he replied. “Look, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
She hung up on him.
Jayden sighed.
His mother was furious at him and babbling nonsense that warned him she might be on drugs again. Grandmama cutting off someone’s ear? Him voluntarily going to visit?
“Crazy,” he muttered. He tossed the last of the weird gifts from his mother’s family into the box.
His gaze lingered on the box, and he recalled the other heirloom he’d been given this week. One he wished he’d never touched, let alone inherited. He wasn’t certain if the girls took anything with them or were just playing in his closet. He hadn’t thought about them finding the key when he tossed it in with the rest of his junk but considered it now. The voodoo stuff – if gross – was harmless.
The key was evil. He wasn’t superstitious, but something with a history like the one it had was nothing short of sickening.
Jayden tugged the box into the direct light and rifled through it.
The key was gone.
He looked through it again then straightened, feeling ill at the thought of the girls playing with the key.
“Jayden!” Tara pounded on his door.
“Jesus, give me a freakin’ break tonight!” he pleaded, glancing up at the ceiling.
Screaming girls, a pissy Tara, a blackout, his mother and grandmama …
He wrenched open his door, fed up. “You mind?” he snapped at Tara, who blocked his way.
Seeing the expression on his face, she closed her mouth and stepped aside.
Jayden stalked to the playroom, where the girls were taking turns screaming. He walked in, and they stopped briefly, facing the door to see who it was.
“Stop!” he ordered when Chelsea took a huge breath. “Were you guys in my closet?”
Silence.
“Let me rephrase. I know you were,” he said and approached them.
Their playroom was a disaster, with toys and stuffed animals scattered across the floor. He searched it visually for the key.
“Did you take anything out of my room?” he asked sternly, folding his arms across his chest.
“No, Jayden,” Chelsea answered in a small voice.
“No, Jayden,” Izzy echoed.
“So if I search your playroom, I won’t find anything that belongs to me?”
“No,” they chorused.
Jayden saw Chelsea trying to be discreet about hiding something under her shirt. He always found it funny how hard they tried not to get caught and how obvious they were. Was he like that as a child?
He couldn’t smile, though, not when he was playing the daddy role.
“Okay show me your hands,” he directed.
“Jaaaaaaydeeeeen!” Chelsea whined, an indirect admission of guilt.
“Now. Both of you.”
Izzy looked at Chelsea, waiting for the leader of the small gang to go first.
Chelsea stuck out her lower lip in a pout but held out her hands. A black, fuzzy cat paw keychain was in her hands.
Jayden plucked it free. “You’re turn, Izzy.”
His sister held out one hand. It was empty.
“Izzy, don’t be stubborn,” he told her.
She held out her second hand. In it was the skeleton key.
Jayden didn’t expect the sight of his sweet little sister holding a dark piece from history to scare him the way it did. His thoughts raced back to the story his dad had told him. He couldn’t imagine the amount of lost or enslaved lives the key saw during the generations it sealed away people to horrible fates.
“Izzy,” he said, taking his sister’s shoulders. “Don’t you ever,
ever,
play with this again. Do you understand me?”
He didn’t realize how harsh his words were, until her eyes watered. Instantly, he felt guilty for scaring her. Jayden released her and took the key. The heaviness and coldness of the metal distressed him.
Chelsea was staring at him uncertainly, and Tara was silent.
“I’m sorry, Izzy,” he said, forcing himself to calm down. “This is just a very bad toy. Okay? No playing with it.”
Izzy nodded, as did Chelsea.
Jayden sensed his short rant had hurt the feelings of everyone in the playroom. He pocketed the key and left, wanting to hide it where Izzy would never find it again.
He pushed the door to his room open and went to the dresser.
“What the hell was that?” Tara asked from his doorway.
He gave her a harried glance. Jayden peeled off his polo and tossed it into the hamper.
“You always jump all over me for raising my voice with them and you yelled at them like you were crazy or something, Jayden.”
“I know. I don’t know what got into me.” He reached for the key and stared at it briefly before putting it in the top drawer of his dresser, outside the reach of the twins.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You just screamed at everyone over it and it’s nothing?”
He sighed. “It’s a long story, Tara.”
“We’re already two hours later.” She crossed her arms. “I want to know what made you freak out.”
Jayden hesitated. His father claimed he’d tell Tara eventually. Jayden didn’t want to discuss the dark family legacy, but his guilt – combined with Tara’s angry look – made him reconsider. He pulled the key out of his drawer and tossed it to her.
Tara caught it, studying it.
Jayden pulled a clean t-shirt out of the dresser and tugged it on.
“What does it go to?” Tara asked.
“Slave chains.”
“Seriously?”
“I guess it’s your history, too, since Daddy adopted you. Apparently, my ancestors sold whole villages into slavery. That key went to the chains that locked up the first slave.” He paused once more then told her the tale his father told him, down to the bizarre curse. Jayden shook his head ruefully when he got to that part.
Tara listened in rapt attention, quiet for a few moments after he finished.
Jayden waited for her reaction.
She fiddled with the key then tossed it back. “Okay. I get why you were upset. I don’t blame you.”
“Kinda makes me sick to look at it,” he said. He tucked it back into the drawer. “I’m sorry I went crazy. When I saw it in Izzy’s hands, all I could think about was a little girl like her being put in chains.”
“I understand.” Tara was unusually quiet. “I’ll make sure they don’t get a hold of it again, either. Something like that should be destroyed.”
“It wouldn’t make my past any less true,” he pointed out. “Daddy said it’s a reminder for me to do what’s right and to try to make amends for what my ancestors did to my people.”
“Jay, that’s an insane amount of pressure,” Tara objected. “You didn’t do those things.”
“I get that. No offense, Tara, but it’s different for you,” he said gently.
“Because I’m white.”
“Yeah. You’ve got less to prove.”
“You’re still a rebel where it counts.” She smiled at him. “So I take it you didn’t bring up Adrienne.”
“Who?”
She laughed then stopped, brow furrowed.