“Hey, girly. Go ahead and cut the cards. Let Zenda read for you,” the woman instructed.
Krista eyed her warily, shaking her head. “That’s okay. I’m just here looking.”
Zenda sucked air in through her teeth. “Girl, you ain’t never gonna learn nothin’ just looking.” She pushed the stack of cards closer to the edge.
“You did?” I ask. I still have no fucking idea what she’s talking about. Or even who she is.
This happens way too fucking often, if you ask me. I leave a trail of breadcrumbs and notes for myself throughout history.
Just call me fucking Gretel.
I sit up with a jolt, scaring the two EMTs who are riding in the ambulance with me. I tear at the cannula in my nose, glaring at them. “Take me to Tulane Emergency. There’s something there I need to speak to.”
I promptly pass out.
My minions stop their assault and stare at her with dead eyes. She is frozen to the spot, looking at them. She sees Hell in their eyes, and rightfully so, she is bound there. One of the hounds jumps up and pounds the window, barking and snapping its teeth in a spray of hot spit. She screams and stumbles backward. I can’t help but laugh as the hounds and souls resume the barrage upon the house. Eventually, something in the warding slips, cracks, and breaks.
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