Six
Kenzie
Taking care of Mom had never been easy. I’d been juggling her needs and my line of work and trying to keep away from the authorities—human and magical—for years now. By now, it had become second nature. I could take it all in stride. Until things took a turn for the worse. This past year felt like ten.
Mom had always been a tough cookie. It used to be that, even through her memory fog, she’d have days or even weeks where she had clarity and knew who Inez and I were. Now, though… we were lucky if she recognized our faces for more than a couple of seconds. If that.
This wasn’t Alzheimer’s. My mom had a Voodoo curse, old and determined to suck the life out of her. I’d nicknamed it “the Vampire.” Not to minimize it, but to cope. A monster was a physical thing—simpler to deal with than an untouchable curse I didn’t know how to fix.
So far, nobody had been able to help. Finch’s talisman hadn’t worked. All the pills from the magical docs hadn’t done a damn thing. Even Marie Laveau, badass Queen of Voodoo, had been stumped. Turns out, some things even an awesome, super-powerful sorceress didn’t know. She’d told me she suspected the curse predated her, said she was sorry, and turned me out empty-handed. Watching Mom lose more and more of herself, going from total exhaustion and brain fog to flying into sudden bursts of rage and fear which came out of nowhere… sucked. And the changes in her state were near-impossible to predict.
I catalogued my latest batch of burner cells, lifted from here and there in San Diego, when Inez padded out of Mom’s room. I looked up from the kitchen table. My little sis. Half my size but twice as ballsy. When she got older, she’d be a force to be reckoned with, that was for damn sure. But right then, she looked so freaking small and lost. I hated that, seeing her fire snuffed out.
“What’s up, Nezzie?” I asked gently.
“Mom keeps calling me Rhiannon.” Her little face scrunched up. That look, I knew well. She was trying not to cry. There’d be little crescents on the insides of her palms from her fingernails.
“Come sit down. You can help me put new SIMs into these, then put them in boxes.” Work is the best way to take your mind off the bad stuff. I’d learned that early on. If I hadn’t had my side hustle in stolen goods, I’d be on some kind of meds by now.
“Who’s Rhiannon?” Inez bit her lip to stop its shaking.
Mom had called us every name under the sun. On the worst days, she didn’t know us at all. She screamed and wailed and stared at us like we were strangers, demanding to know where she was and what we were doing there.
“She probably thinks you’re Aunt Rhiannon.”
Inez frowned. “We don’t have an Aunt Rhiannon.”
“She died when Mom was little. You’re around the same age she was,” I replied. I might’ve seemed cold, but my way of taking care of Inez involved tough love and constant distraction. We wouldn’t make it otherwise. I couldn’t appear weak when she needed strength.
I’d have done anything, given anything, to make things better. I’d been so sure about Marie. That letdown had round-housed me right in the gut, and I still hadn’t recovered.
Inez got down to business, taking the new SIMs and slotting them into the burners. She’d helped me before. Don’t get it twisted—I’d never let her get caught in the same underworld as me. But if putting a few SIM cards into some stolen phones could keep her mind off Mom, just for a while, that wasn’t a bad thing in my book.
These cell phones kept us afloat. The local gangs always needed them, since the cops liked to scope out this neighborhood more than most. They were constantly being monitored, and I worked as their middle-woman. Simple supply and demand. Plus, it paid to make friends in shady places. I gave them a way to communicate; they kept me and my family safe. The gang leaders posted members on the street corners to make sure nobody bothered us. Some would even walk Inez to the bus stop when I had too much work to do it myself, so nobody got in her way or tried to hurt her. It made a pretty odd image—huge tattooed dudes flanking my little sis and holding her backpack for her.
Everyone had their shades of gray. If you looked closely enough, everyone had a reason for doing stuff others considered wrong. Most people weren’t totally bad. The only person I’d ever met who I could truly mark down as one hundred percent evil was Katherine Shipton, but she’d gotten what she deserved.
“Actually, leave those, Nezzie. You’re going to be late,” I said, seeing the time on the nearest cell phone.
Inez pouted. “Can’t I just stay home with you? Just once?”
“You want to live in this place all your life? You want to live in this neighborhood till you’re old and gray?”
“No, but—”
“No buts. Get your ass to school. A real education will get you somewhere, Inez. If I let you stay home today, you’ll ask again tomorrow. Sorry, Nezzie, it’s not going to happen.”
I got up and took her lunch bag off the counter. I shoved it into her hand and fetched her backpack, forcing it onto her shoulders. She’d huff the whole way to the bus stop, but once she got to school, it’d take her mind off home. I envied that. A break from this. Even thinking that way made me feel guilty, but hey, that’s life. I’d dropped out to look after Mom. Inez had choices I didn’t, and I wouldn’t let her give up to be like me.
“Will you walk me?” Inez scuffed her way to the door.
I shook my head. “Diego and Crossbones will be on the corner. They’ll take you.” I nodded to the huge pile of burners. “I’ve got to sort through these by lunchtime.”
“Will you be home tonight?” She peered up at me as I ushered her out the door. Damn those puppy-dog eyes.
“I’ll try to be.” I stooped to give her a kiss on the forehead. “Now go on, fill that mind with clever stuff so you can go and be a doctor or something, instead of shifting burner cells for the rest of your life. Or maybe a lawyer, so you can get me out of my messes.”
She gave a reluctant smile before hurrying down the creaky stairway and out of the apartment building. That was the beauty of this derelict spot. I could hear every footstep in the empty hallways, and the rusty clang of the front door acted as a readymade alarm. I’d picked this joint for that exact reason. Ain’t nobody going to sneak up on me.
Turning, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Mom stood in the doorway of her room, giving the apartment a blank-eyed stare. She looked like a ghost. Pale, dark circles under her eyes, her body thin like a baby bird. No matter how much I fed her, she stayed painfully skinny.
“Who are you?” Her words cut me like a knife. “Why are you in my house?”
“Mom, it’s me. Kenzie.” I stepped toward her, but she put up her fists. Not now, Mom… please.
“I don’t know any Kenzie. Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Panic edged her wavering voice. “I’m going to call the police!”
“Don’t do that, Mom. I’m your daughter, Kenzie.” I edged toward the landline, trying to block her way. She’d threatened this a thousand times, and it never got easier to handle. It wasn’t her fault. She was scared. She thought some lowlife had come to rob her blind.