Page 17 of Dima's Vision
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I know as soon as I wake she’s no longer here. I could feel the emptiness wrap its arms around me as she slipped out of my home. Also, the recurring dream I have of her kinda was a huge giveaway.
Scrubbing my hand down my face I reach for my phone, trying not to picture the ways I had her last night. I scroll to Lexi’s name and then hesitate. My thumb frozen over the call button. Is it better for me to call Lexi to find her, trace her phone, or for me to use my vision and common sense to find her?
“Shit!” I throw my phone on the bed as Lady Gaga blares through it, giving me enough of a fright that I’ll have to check my boxers. Snatching it up, I swipe the screen, “Lexi?”
“Why are you breathing weird? Wait, are you with a girl?” Her eyes narrow at the screen.
“No! You gave me a fright.”
She side eyes me. “Riiiiiight. I gave the creepy guy a fright,” she snorts.
“Is there a reason you’re calling me?”
“Yeah, you had any more visions of people?”
I hesitate. Do I tell her about La Strega and let her work her magic? Flicking my eyes to the date on the screen I have four days before Halloween night. Which is when I’m pretty certain her time will be up. Anything that can help me would be a good thing.
“Yeah, what can you find me on someone known as La Strega? She’s Mafia.”
“The Witch?”
“You’ve heard of her?” I ask, sitting up at this information.
“What? No. La Strega translates to ‘the witch’. Surely, being a witch yourself you’d know that.” The little shit rolls her eyes.
“No, because I don’t spend my life learning what the word ‘witch’ is in different languages.”
“Well, suit yourself. Lemme do some digging and I’ll get back to you.”
With that she hangs up, not even saying good bye. That kid is too much like her father.
I flop back into my bed, thinking through the past 24 hours. How much my life has been irrevocably changed by one little killer woman. I know that she’s running, afraid that she’ll lose me, but my little witch is going to find that it’ll take a lot more than a fucking curse for me to give her up.
Kristie
“And that is why you don’t fuck with kids.” Gently my finger squeezes the trigger, and I watch as a bullet tears through Mike Campini’s head.
I brace myself for the whispers, the cries, the lost dreams that Mike will never be able to make reality. With clenched fists I listen to it all. All the people complicit with this piece of shit. The people who provided him with innocents.
Shit. Flabby assed Glenn was right. It’s huge. The people behind this, the kidnapping, the selling of little bodies, they’repowerful. Well known. Not only in the New Orleans community, but in the underground community where people like me and Dima live. This little side quest of mine has just got a fuck ton more complicated. And that’s without my feelings for Dima.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a bit of a party girl. A loose woman if you will. I mean, both are terrible terms to describe women who enjoy sex, but it is what it is. Last night with Dima? I have never felt a connection like that before. It wasn’t just our bodies speaking to each other, it was like our souls were connected. Which is why, in true independent woman fashion, I ran away as soon as my eyes opened. I cannot be the death of that man. Not a man that is as pure as he is. He was a damned virgin for shit’s sake! Ugh. Tipping my head back I take a deep breath, center myself, then take my phone from my pocket.
“Yeah, I need a clean up. I’ll pin the location.” Hanging up I pin the whereabouts of Mike’s body, then slip out of the room.
The Sanificatore family don’t need me to give them directions. They’re trained for this. The whole family have been Mancini cleaners from the very start. Emigrating from Naples to the US when the original family came. They’re also somewhat creepy, but I guess you get that from generations of cleaning up dead bodies.
Slipping out of the door I walk down the street, whistling. I may have just had to listen to Mike’s secrets, but I feel a shit ton lighter because I also got rid of another piece of shit. It’s checks and balances sometimes. Pushing through the door of my favorite coffee shop I raise my hand, one finger in the air. Brenna beams at me, nodding and giving me a thumbs up, showing she got my order.
The bubbly redhead is the best thing in this dreary cafe. Sunny, colorful, full of life surrounded by a weirdly emo vibe. But I mean, I can’t talk. I’m the human embodiment of this sadcafe. Clad in black, Doc Martens, thick dark eye make up. Hey, it’s my vibe.
“Here you are, lovely,” Brenna beams at me, placing my to go cup on the table I’m sitting at.
“Thanks, babe.” I grin when she turns pink. I should really stop flirting with the poor girl.
“How are you doing, anyway? I didn’t see you yesterday.”
