Page 79 of Too Cursed To Kiss
“Yes, when you fix the ring and give me Wald back, then I’ll give you the marble. That’s the deal,” I said, smacking the fortune-teller photo in the book with my beringed hand.
Her eyes flashed, and she turned into smoke with a hiss swirling around me. “You bitch,” the smoke whispered.
I had highly suspected the Agatha who had groped my ass was not the real Agatha. It seemed a lot more like my dead prick of a cousin, Bill. That cemented it. I pulled the photo out of the old-fashioned photo corners and called to her. “Agatha, I need you. Please come.”
Nothing. The smoke continued to swirl, cursing at me. Maybe it needed blood or something. I scraped the ring over a finger. It hurt but didn’t break the skin. I tried harder. The smoke thing swooped over me. My ringed hand went for the marble, but it missed me again. I grated the ring harder over a finger. It finally broke the skin and a reddish spot appeared. It was going to have to do since the Smoke thing was coming for another round. I ducked again and rubbed the raw finger over the photo.
The smoke thing exploded into thousands of swirling whirls that twirled and shrank and then disappeared. There was dead silence, and then a tinkle of glass, followed by heels clicking against a shiny floor. I whipped around, my ringed hand hovering over the marble.
“Oh my dear, you can’t imagine how happy I am to see you.”
My eyes widened. “Grandma?” The person in front of me was like a projection or a hologram. I could see through her, but it looked like my grandmother. Memories surged back of sugar cookies and tea, the powdery cheek to kiss, and the hug that meant home.
“Yes and no, I am Agatha as well. Your mind has turned me into your grandmother. Your need for her has altered the image.” She laughed, but it was the deep throaty Agatha laugh.
I choked back a sob. She was right. I wanted my grandma more than her. “Can you help me?” Tears began to flow, and I chewed my lip to make them stop.
“Wald, you mean? Yes, he’s here.” She paused, and her voice changed, as if she’d looked away and then back again as she spoke. “You can call Wald, but then I will have to go and your connection with me will break, so first, we must repair the ring.
“Right, the ring. How do we fix it?” I held out a shaking hand, turning it over so she could see the ring.
“The crystal has to be reformed. I can’t do it because I’m not here. So you will have to do it.”
“What? No, how? I can’t reform crystal. I don’t even know what that means. I thought you had to be family or something to fix it.”
“You can do it if I help you.”
“Help? How? I thought you were gone? Passed?”
“I’m tied to you, and we are family now. That’s how I could give it to you in the marble. In the marble, we can also fix it.” That sounded like the sanest plan I’d heard in a while. My hand reached for my cleavage.
“Wait, it’s not safe yet. Frank is looking for you and will continue to do so until the taste of your blood leaves his lips. But you can sever the connection.” Her voicephased in and out as if she was turning away and back again.
“How?” I asked, ready to do anything to make sure Frank never came back again.
“Close the album and lick the cover.”
“What! Lick? The cover? How the hell will that send Frank away?” Theewwwfactor crawled over my skin. My tongue darted out of my mouth as I considered the book.
“And I mean lick. Like lots of saliva and full tongue out. Lick it like you mean it.”
“You’re serious?” I asked, picking up the book and considering it.
“Deadly. The saliva will break the blood connection you made to the cover.”
“Why the cover? I thought the photos were the connections.”
“Not with Frank, he was before photos, and his skin was the only thing we had to pull the photos together.”
“Hang on, you mean the album is made of human skin?” I yelled the last bit and dropped the album on the table like it was a striking cobra.
“Not human but skin, yes. It’s your choice. But as long as the album exists he will always look for you.”
Mother of hell. Well, that was a non-decision. I eyed the album, though wondering how disgusting this pact was going to be.
Closing my eyes, I stuck out my tongue and licked the length of the cover, concentrating on not throwing up. My mouth tasted of Britannia’s stale perfume, the soft black leather of her messenger bag, and something like what I would imagine graveyard dirt mixed with dust would taste like.
I would never untaste it.
