Bad Juju (38 page)

Lucien considered shape-shifting, but no longer trusted the Baron.  With T.J. taking over his body, another
loa
inside of him would have been chaos.

The walk from Lucien’s home to the
Novaks
’ was close to four miles.  He moved slowly with the heavy load.  Nonetheless, he enjoyed the warm, starry night and the sounds of the animals.  It gave him time to think.  T.J.’s presence would interrupt him off and on.  He had feared the
ti
-bon-
ange
might alter his plans, but he had grown accustomed to the other voice inside his head.  He wished he knew T.J. better when he was alive.  Although Lucien felt his arthritis return, T.J.’s youth kept most of it at bay, making the long hike bearable. 

Lucien took the side streets when he could, reaching Lake Hayward with headlights to hide from.  He trooped onto the service road wrapped around the lake, thankful for wearing dark clothes.  The lake
access road
had more traffic, probably vacationers enjoying the last days of summer.  He sought refuge behind trees, bushes, cars, and anything he could find.  By 1:30 a.m. he reached Henry’s
lakehouse
.

Lucien dropped his duffel bag and lit two candles, one scented with Dragon’s Blood and one scented with Patchouli for an aroma of protection.  He then poured his home brew around the house.  With only seven gallons of the concoction, he had to use the potion sparingly.  The parcel of land was bigger than he had figured.  Once finished he was surprised to have almost a full jug of the potion left.  If only he could douse the whole town with it.  A good storm would wash away all of his efforts.  He prayed the weather would stay dry for a couple of days.

Lucien took the full jug and went back to parts of the house’s perimeter he had skimped on.

The sounds of jumping fish and buzzing insects rattled him.  He was anxious to leave before the
Novaks
or their neighbors spotted him on their property.  On the side of the house where Lucien
began
his circle, he squatted down and packed up his duffel bag.  He felt eyes upon him and looked up.  Two red dots glowed through a slat of blinds from the second
storey
window.  The red dots vanished and then reappeared from the side window on the main floor.  Lucien’s heart pounded.  It was the
djab
inside of Henry and it wanted something.

T.J.’s thoughts interfered with his own, but the
ti
-bon-
ange
was well aware of the threat.  “Take him out!  Just like Pete!”  T.J. egged on from inside of his brain.

Lucien appreciated the vote of confidence.  He and T.J. were becoming symbiotic with each other as they both shared Lucien’s body.

The red dots faded out, and then the front door opened.  Henry’s body exited the house with his eyes iridescent red.

Lucien stood as still as a statue with his duffel bag in his hand as Henry beckoned.  He saw Henry’s features from the moonlight.  The boy wore a wicked jeer on his face.  Lucien looked down and realized he was standing a few steps outside of the circle.  He quickly stepped back in.  “What do you want?”

Henry hummed a familiar hit song from the ‘90’s then sang the lyrics
.  “And I’m here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away…”

“Take me.  Leave the boy and his family alone,” Lucien proposed.

“It’s not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave to me…”
  Henry continued to sing.  His eyes blazed with the colors of fire.

“We could end this right now.  You could torture me and then kill me,” Lucien begged.

Henry kept on singing without missing a beat. 
“…and I’m not
gonna
fade as soon as you close your eyes and you know it.  Every time I scratch my nails down…”

“Who sent you?  Giselle?” Lucien cried.

Henry stopped singing and lunged at Lucien.  His hands stopped only centimeters away from Lucien’s neck as if an invisible wall insulated him from harm.  Henry swung and kicked, but could not make contact.  The circle worked.

“That won’t last.  Rain is all it takes,” Henry laughed.  “And by the way, I’m here because of Giselle.  Pierre, Jacques, and Christine were also there.  They appreciate daddy’s secrets.  Will surely make them lots of money. 
H
ow nice it was for you to share.  Would have come in handy when they were little and their mothers had to put them in group homes, but better late than never.  Did you know Giselle turned tricks to keep what was left of the family going once you left?  And Jacques?   Jail.  Manslaughter.  You want to know about your other children?  Do you even remember their names?”

“No more!  I beg you!” Lucien cried.

“They were visited by the Baron many decades ago.  He came to collect on a deal you made.  Apparently you didn’t just leave them poor, but traded away their souls.”  Henry cackled.  “You’re more demonic than I!”

“Henry, if you can hear me, hold on a little bit longer.  We’ll save you,” Lucien said.

Henry’s eyes briefly stopped glowing.  “I don’t know if I can…”  Henry’s voice faded.

“Yes
,
you can and you will.  Trust us, Henry,” Lucien implored.

“He will be mine!” the
djab
inside of Henry yelled.  His voice deepened while his eyes brightened to a burnt orange.  “To a new day, bon
ami
!”  Henry turned away and almost floated back inside of his house.

Lucien took the jugs and shook the remaining drops all over his body.  It was a long way home and once out of the circle he was fair game.  His heart weighed like a boulder. 
My own children did this to Henry, an innocent boy.  Oh Papa
Legba
,
Damballah
, forgive me.  I had no idea about the suffering that I caused.  Their souls are
filled with hate, belonging to the Baron because of me. Please give them mercy. 
His past had caught up to him, as he feared it would. 

Chapter 45

Rio retreated to his room after he thought he killed Candy Fontana.  His parents didn’t notice the gym bag he carried or Brittany’s
much-to-small
clothes he wore as he walked into the house.  He stuffed the bag of potential evidence in the back of his closet.  It smelled more like cleaning supplies than blood.  He planned on burning everything once he had the house to himself. 

Feelings of guilt, shame, and misery were replaced with fear and paranoia of getting caught.  Rio was
certain Ms. Fontana was dead.  After scrubbing down all of the evidence, he kept telling himself there was nothing to worry about.  The only foreseeable problem he could think of was a potential witness remembering his car parked in Brittany’s driveway. 

An hour later deep in thought,
Rio’s
mother startled him when she knocked on his door.  “Dinner, Honey.  Chicken enchiladas.”

Rio came to the table ravenous and gorged as if it was his last meal
.  It’s almost over.

Around 2:00 a.m. Bart called.  The phone call woke him up.  Rio could hear excitement in his friend’s voice.  “You’ll never believe what’s on the news.  Turn on channel twelve.”

Oh Bart, if you only knew…
  “Hold on,” Rio answered as he turned on the TV.

“They’re all at Brittany’s house-the media, the police.  So far, they’ve said Brittany was dead and Ms. Fontana is in intensive care!” Bart recapped.

Oh shit!  She was supposed to be dead!
  Rio asked, “What?  How?  When?”

“Don’t know. 
Birttany’s
mom came home and reported this an hour or two ago.  Found them in the kitchen.  The police aren’t saying too much.”

“Maybe they don’t know too much,” Rio said and secretly hoped.

“Wonder if they knew she was pregnant?” Bart proposed.

“With Henry’s baby, not mine!” exclaimed Rio.

“Chill out, man.  Hey, maybe that’s who did this.  That sick fuck Henry.  He couldn’t stand her anymore,” Bart said.

Very interesting theory, Bart
.  “Why do you think Fontana was there?”

“Don’t have an answer for that one.  It’s weird.  Like she’s… what do they call them, oh…an innocent bystander.”

Bart’s pretty smart, but only half right. 
“So Brittany was the victim?” Rio asked.

“Oh yeah.”

“And she was murdered?” Rio asked.

“Well, I’m only assuming, but the police didn’t say.  What a tragedy!  She was smoking hot babe and smart too.  Her mom must be a basket case.  I hope they get the bastard who did this,” Bart said.

“Yeah, and he spends the rest of his life in prison getting fucked in the ass!” Rio added, feigning outrage.  “Thanks for telling me. 
Gonna
watch the news and fall back asleep.”

***

A few days after Brittany was found dead, Rio learned his teacher had survived, struggling for dear life in a coma.  The coroner’s ruling was inconclusive, declaring Brittany’s death a possible suicide or homicide.  They hadn’t had any information.

Rio and hundreds of others from Freemont High School attended her three day funeral.  He faked plenty of tears, pretending to be devastated.  He also participated in the student candlelight vigil held outside of St. Mary’s Hospital.  Thoughts of finishing what he started on Candy Fontana tempted him, but mass hospital security was too much of a determent.  He resigned himself to the clinging hope of her dying.  He would even be happy if she never woke up.  She could have only seen him for a second.  He remembered her cry,
‘Rio, is that you?’
after he stabbed her in the back.

Brittany’s gym bag sat in the back of his closet for the whole summer.  His parents barely worked through June and July.  Instead, they enjoyed their boats and jet skis.

Rio’s doctor declared his shoulder was healed and he could play football.  His parents sent him away to
Greenbay
for football camp.  The bag that still sat in his closet put him on edge.  Nightmares of his parents or the police finding it plagued him for weeks.

Once home, he waited for his parents to continue where they left off with their busy lives and expanding casino business.  A week before the new school year, his mom
and dad finally went back to running the family business.  Preferring to burn the bag and its contents at night, he took the first opportunity that came along.  He planned on torching it all in his outdoor stone fireplace.   

The fireplace sat on the slate and brick patio extended off of the walkout basement.  Rio tried to jam the large bag into the fireplace’s opening, but it was much too big.  Instead, he gradually burned the incriminating items down in smaller increments.  Not wanting his neighbors to see him burning towels and clothes in the morning, Rio took some stacks of newspaper from the recycle bin as a means of concealing the items.  Each towel and article of clothing was inserted in the folds of a newspaper section. 

Rio placed a couple of split logs stacked neatly next to the fireplace on the grate and started a fire.  He slid in the first fold which held a large bloody towel used to mop up Brittany’s floor.  It burned down slower than the paper and left a faint scorched smell that bothered him.  A gentle breeze helped dilute the scent.  He repeated the process several times until he almost finished. 

A couple of hours elapsed.  Rio had a few more things to burn.  He shoved them inside of the hearth.  No longer apprehensive, he kicked back on the chaise lounge with a Coke and bag of Doritos and watched the flames erase his sins.

While the fire died down, he put the unused newspapers back in the recycle bin.  His parents pulled up on the driveway and got out of the car with a couple of sacks of take-out. 
What are they doing here?

“Hi Honey.  We got your brother to handle everything at the new casino.  We wanted to take the boat out one more time before school started.  Tried to call, but you didn’t pick up.  We brought you a couple of burgers anyway.  You hungry?” said Sue.

“Yeah.  Thanks Mom.  I was outside.  Didn’t hear the phone,” Rio said.

“We figured as much. 
Here.
  Take these inside,” said Alonzo.

They went straight to the kitchen.  Rio casually glanced out of the great room’s windows.  He saw puffs of smoke wafting through the air.  His mother noticed it too.

“Something burning?” she asked.  “Where’s the smoke coming from?”

“It’s okay.  I made myself a fire this morning while I sat outside and got some sun.  I wanted the atmosphere,” Rio stammered.

“You know better than that.  We don’t want you to use the fireplace when we’re not home.  And it’s close to ninety degrees.  Why would you want the extra heat?” Sue suspiciously questioned.  “I’ll go hose it down.  Don’t want it burning without anyone out there.”

In desperation Rio suggested, “Mom, let me hose it down.  I’m the one who started it.  Please eat your lunch before it gets cold.”