Lead Me Astray by Sondi Warner

Author:Sondi Warner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wattpad WEBTOON Book Group
Published: 2022-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Aurie

September 8 | Night

The dryer tumbled in the kitchenette, a warm white noise. Lulled by the hum, Zyr and Mys napped on opposite ends of the couch with legs entangled. The studio had become a fading-daylight shade of blue as Sunday unwound. With the downturn, my thoughts shifted back to my eventful journey to see the voodoo loa.

It had started with a tentative knock at the door of unit 15B. While the sounds of the projects thumped and shouted around me, I strained to hear the shuffle of feet on the other side, staring at the peeling flecks of maroon latex around the peephole, afraid to walk through walls.

“Right on time,” an old lady had greeted me as the door swung open.

Dressed in a colorful muumuu, she patted a headful of pink foam rollers and waved me toward her kitchen. I took a hesitant step inside and closed the door behind me. The woman had a plump jolliness to her. She looked as though she might sooner trade coupons than hurt me, but I couldn’t be too careful.

“Got the sacrifice?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Ma’am?” I squeaked.

Facing me, she shook her head skyward and grinned. “I told that so-and-so you need a sacrifice, gyal.” She tapped a cigarette out of a crumpled pack and lit it. I wrinkled my nose, although the smoke didn’t burn. She scrutinized me, and I scrutinized her. “Lawd, you scared. I don’t bite. You look like your mama,” she said with a grin. “Both y’all do, you and your sister.”

“You know my mother and my sister?”

She gestured again to one of the folding chairs by the table, and I sat beside an open window that let in the noise of the storm. Weak morning sun illuminated the cluttered kitchen. There were dishes in the sink and a pot of grits on the stove. The place smelled like burnt coffee. I didn’t mind any of it. It felt human, and it made me comfortable.

Plopping a battered stack of tarot cards between us, the old woman beckoned for me to shuffle. I did, asking my question again. She had me cut the shuffled deck.

“I got a sense for you. Donno you, but I got a sense for you,” she answered as she laid a tarot spread. A scruffy cat hopped on the vacant chair and arched its back in a lazy stretch. Its pink nose sniffed along the edge of the sticky Formica table before losing interest and wriggling in my direction.

“I don’t understand,” I said to the woman. “What do you sense about me?”

Her eyebrows were threaded with silver. Staring at the cards, she raised them, and wrinkles lined her forehead. When she looked up, I noticed her irises were murky brown, but ringed by an intense cobalt blue. I fidgeted beneath her scrutiny.

“Why you here, baby?” she asked in a smoke-husky voice.

“My friend told me I could meet a voodoo loa here. Are you . . . are you the one?”

“I tend the offerings.” She sounded amused.

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