Spell For Sophia Read Online Free Page A

footbridge was tethered to a small island. On the far side, a rowboat waited. We usually kept the boat tied to a small dock near the footbridge. But Mam'zelle's wasting disease had birthed flashes of paranoia and she had insisted I move it.
    Moonlight slid through the windows, illuminating the smudges left by the dragonfly assault. I huddled on the sofa in the sitting room. Say I got away. Then what? I couldn't go to the police and tell them my parents had kidnapped me. Mamá would say I had contacted them . I had willingly entered the car.
    I had stolen their drug money.
    I had lit the match.
    The hut swayed and creaked. I clutched the faded floral quilt to my chin and prayed Oya-Yansa wouldn't blow away the salt I had spread across the thresholds and windowsills to ward against evil. I had coated a candle with cinnamon and cayenne pepper. It burned low, but having grown up in earthquake country, I had a strict rule against falling asleep with a candle lit. I compromised and placed the votive in the kitchen sink near the plaster statue of Black Mary.
    I drifted into an uneasy slumber and dreamt the police arrived by airboat and questioned me about Mam'zelle's disappearance. What did you do with her body? Feed it to the gators? I awoke at daybreak, sopping with sweat and terrified Breaux would believe I had done in his grand-mère.
    "Mam'zelle? Are you still here?" Not sensing her spirit, a wave of grief and abandonment washed over me. I released a ragged breath, then moved her photo to the altar. "Be at peace with the ancestors, Mam'zelle." I struck a match and the white candle sizzled and flared.
    Stay busy. If I stop, I'll cry. If I cry, my heart chakra might open. If my heart chakra opens, Mam'zelle's spirit might sneak in. Then whatever hex got her will get me too.
    I fetched a bucket and vinegar from the side of the stilt hut and dried yarrow and rosemary from Mam'zelle's magic room. I knew she would have wanted the hut to be spiritually and physically cleansed. Though I wasn't sure what to do about her bedding. The serpent had slithered off during the night, but fear and worry prevented me from washing the sheets. I left them undisturbed, smelling of floral perfume and illness, and scattered with magnolia leaves. Evidence. I needed Breaux to see the bed just as Mam'zelle had left it. Maybe if he passed his hand over it and read Mam'zelle's energy residue and her thoughtforms, he'd believe me.
    If the police showed up, surely the blood on the bandana would raise suspicion. I left the orange cloth for the moment, lifting it only long enough to scrub the nightstand with a flannel cloth from the rag bin. Mam'zelle would have been anxious about the dried stain. An enemy could use it to hex her past or her future. I'd have to dispose of bandana at some point. Maybe when the alligators swarmed.
    A sense of urgency drove me. At any moment Breaux might materialize, or the police, or Mam'zelle's ghost. My bowels rumbled with the unending fear my parents or their drug boss from the pancake place would find me. I listened for alligators congregating beneath the floorboards.
    When hunger threatened to topple me, I stopped long enough to eat. Afterward, I washed the windows and then cracked them open to release Death. The mild December air raised goose bumps on my skin. Breaux crept into my thoughts. I owed him so much. Someday he was bound to collect on the debt. Or he'd leave, like everyone else.
    Darn it, Breaux.
    I closed the windows and reinforced the protection spells. Mam'zelle's broom beckoned from the corner. I sprinkled bay rum on the tips of the bristles and brushed each corner from top to bottom. After an anxious glance out the glass, I swept the scuffed wooden floor, then filled the bucket with fresh water, vinegar, yarrow, and rosemary. Dropping to my hands and knees, I scrubbed away everything but the salt strewn across the threshold. I kept my ears pricked for the sound of a powerboat. Part of me hoped Breaux hadn't