Page 10 of Dima's Vision
“Look, hot guy, there’s only room for one witch, so you’ll have to answer to another name.”
My shoulder sags under Glenn’s weight, so I move toward her, dipping enough to be able to whisper in her ear, “I’ll answer to ‘my love’, if that’s any better.”
Her hazel eyes narrow as I pass by her. “Anyway, Mama Celene, I have a bone to pick with you. Why are you here and not at the cottage I bought you? This place isn’t safe.” She huffs. She plays it off that she’s untouchable, but I know my woman has hidden depths.
The old woman waves a hand at her as she shuffles back to her rocking chair. “Dat place all frills,cher. Dem kids? Dem gifted like you an’ dey need me right here in da dirt.” She nods once, sitting and crossing her arms over her chest.
“There’s more?”
“Don’t you ‘member? Dere’s always more, chile. They need me to guide em.”
Kristiana blinks once, twice, her gaze moving to mine then back to the woman who helped her when she was young and lost. “You need help, you call me. Promise me, Mama Celene.”
Mama Celene’s gaze finds mine and she lifts her chin in my direction, “I gon’ call da Ghost.” My little witch growls, and it’sfucking adorable, the only thing stopping her is Mama Celene’s raised hand. “Shadows movingcher. Ghost gon keep ya safe.”
Kristiana glances at me, her earlier annoyance gone as a smile plays on her lips. “Looks like I get to keep the name Witch,Ghost.”
She stalks toward the fenceline, clumsily climbing over in her haste to get to the woman who trained her. Stomping up the porch steps, her lips move, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. Whatever it is, it’s a private conversation between her and Mama Celene. I turn with my cargo and make my way to the pavement, waiting for my Witch there as people go about their daily lives, not taking notice of me or the fat kidnapper over my shoulder.
The two women embrace and I get a very real glimpse of someone who has used her myth as her armour. Here, in the arms of the woman she loves like a mother, she seems young, carefree, unburdened by her fate. My chest aches. I want to be that for her too. Her shelter in the storm.
Looking lighter, she skips down the porch steps, dancing her way toward me. “Come on, let’s get this fucker all loaded up,” she slaps Glenn’s unconscious ass and prances to her little mint green Beetle.
I follow her because there is no place I’d rather be than in her shadow.
La Strega
Alright, I admit that perhaps I got a little pushy making Dima bring my car to this kidnapping. I should have thought the logistics through, or at the very least asked what size our victimwas. The VW Beetle has a reasonably sized trunk for the size of the car, however a tall, fat man is perhaps a slightly bigger cargo than intended.
After watching Dima carrying him over his shoulder like a lumberjack carrying a felled log, I then got a front row seat watching his muscles bulge and flex as he turned Glenn this way and that way to maneuver him into the trunk. In the end we forced the trunk closed, and probably caught some skin in the latch but who cares? He’s not long for this world anyway.
“Next right,” Dima says in his smooth voice. God, what I wouldn’t give to hear that voice call me a good girl.
I squirm in my seat at the thought, peeking at him through my lashes. He’s staring out the window, jaw clenched. I’m not sure what all went on when he was inside the house, but between that and Mama Celene talking shadows, he’s been all squirrely.
“So, you gonna tell me where we’re headed? Or is it a surprise?” I side eye him. “I don’t like surprises.”
He turns to look at me thoughtfully. “Why don’t you like surprises?”
I chew my lip, then shrug. “People die from surprises.”
Dima snorts. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Trust me.” I give him a bored look. “When I was nine the aunt I was living with threw a big surprise party for my uncle. Massive cake. A full live band. A balloon arch with paper streamers everywhere.” He stares at me, unsure where this is going. We pull up behind some traffic at a red light, so I turn to look at him. “My uncle walks through the door, we all jump out from behind the couch, hooting and hollering Happy Birthday. The man throws his hands back in surprise, the cigar he usually had in his mouth is between his fingers. The lit cigar touches one of the paper streamers he’s standing under. The whole thing goes up at the same time my cousin pops the cork on abottle of champagne he’s just shaken. The spray hits the flaming streamers and my uncle dies in a fireball.”
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, looking horrified.
“Yep.”
“How many more of those stories do you have?”
I shake my head. “More than you’d expect.”
“Surely it’s just a coincidence?”
I shrug, “Or it’s a curse. You and I both know there is some weird woo woo shit out there.”
He huffs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Is that the technical term for it?”
