Page 17 of Cheater Slicks

And that was proof enough.

“A parade is coming.” I stepped up to the curb. “I can’t see them yet, but I can hear them.”

“Damn it.” She noticed her crushing grip on me and let go with a grimace. “I wish I could help.”

With the rest of us craning our necks and straining our ears, it was little wonder she got caught up in the moment. “I’m sorry, Mary.” I jostled her arm. “When I see him, you’ll be the first to know.”

Stepping out into the street, Kierce called back, “I’ll go search for Vi.”

Funerals in New Orleans weren’t somber graveside affairs. Not entirely, anyway. Some families opted for jazz funerals, processions accompanied by a brass band, to celebrate the lives of those who had been lost. Music played, mourners danced, and some even sang hymns.

I had been swept into one or two, the participants’ joy infectious. Tears of sadness and happiness mingled until you couldn’t tell one from the other. It was beautiful. It was soulful. And it was damn strange when the spectral musicians came into view because I had never seen spirits reenact funerary rites. Most souls wanted to cling to the echoes of life, not the trappings of death.

For a moment, I thought I must be wrong. That this was a residual haunting left over from some Mardi Gras parade. I kept scanning for floats or spirits tossing beads, coins, or candy. But as they drew nearer, and I got an eyeful of their somber attire, I knew I had been right all along.

We kept to the curb, allowing the soft-blue glowing mourners to march past us. Dressed in their Sunday best, they were a sight.

“This must be it.” I willed myself to believe it. “This must be what Pierre wanted us to see.”

The music swelled as the outliers drew even with us, and I scanned every face for Matty.

Midway through the revelers, I was rewarded with a glimpse of a face I would recognize anywhere.

“I see him.” I broke away from Josie. “I’m going after him.”

“Me too.” She growled her frustration. “I can’t stand here and watch, even if I can’t see a damn thing.”

“You’re not going in there.” I slowed, fear coasting down my spine, and she smacked into my back. “We don’t know how people become afflicted, and we’re not going to risk you to figure it out.”

“Frankie—”

“No.” I shut her down fast. “I’m not losing my sister too.”

“Take Pedro at least.” Tears threatened in her voice. “Just in case you can swap them out.”

Instinct screamed at me not to risk Pedro for the reasons I didn’t want Josie anywhere near a dangerous source of magic we didn’t understand, but from the look on his face, they were united in overruling me.

“This is why I’m here,mija.” Pedro gentled his tone. “I want to help.”

“There’s no time to argue with either of you.” I lifted my hands in defeat. “Let’s do this, Pedro.” I broke into a sprint, Pedro on my heels, waving a hand overhead and yelling,“Matty.”

He noticed me, and his face lit up as he stuck out his elbow for me to slide my arm in. I focused to grant his soul enough substance I could hook him, but my arm passed right through his. Again and again, I tried with the same result. Finally, he shrugged and walked on, shuffling his feet to the beat and eyeing the woman ahead of him with the flare of interest he had shown me.

“Matty.” I ran to catch up, each swipe of my hand failing to connect with him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Hey, pretty girl.” His stare was glazed where it fell on me. “Want to dance?”

“I’m not a pretty girl.” I struggled against the pinch in my chest. “I’m your sister.”

Humming along, he sidestepped me in pursuit of the woman again.

A growl in my throat, I circled in front of him, my hands clawing through him without purchase.

“Pedro?” I tamped down the frantic thread about to snap in my tone. “You’re up next.”

Two souls could occupy the same body, and Matty was an old pro at cohabitation. But this wasn’t how it was done back home. I couldn’t exorcise Pedro without Matty’s body dropping like a ton of bricks.

Pedro could only grasp at him, his fingers slicing through air.“Mija?”

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