Page 2 of Savage Devotion
This time my huff is one hundred percent humor and my chest doesn’t hurt as much.
All the same, I shot her an unamused look. “To be you, my sweet friend… to be you…”
I let my words trail off. What else can I say? She doesn’t want to face the reality that bad things happen all the time to good people. It’s the way the world works. Ugh. I sound like the biggest pessimist in the world right now, but facts don’t lie. I would give good money to switch places with just about anyone right now. Instead of focusing on that, I turn my attention to Laila. She can make a dead man laugh and somehow finds humor in just about everything. A trait I wish I could master.
“It’s just that this is the longest she’s been gone. Let’s just get to the police station and get this over with.”
Laila tightens her arm around me and gives a squeeze. “Yes. Let’s get this done with Detective Lafleur and then I wanna take you somewhere I heard recommended in a group chat.”
She slips her arm from around me and slides her hand into mine as I ask one more time, “So, you don’t think it’s her? Adora, I mean?”
Laila stops mid-stride, dragging me back with her. She worries the inside of her lip, and for the first time in my life, I see my best friend hesitate for a heartbeat before speaking. Serious eyes holdmine. “I don’t know for sure, Bells, okay? I wish I could take this whole situation from you and erase all the worry and sadness, but let’s not give into our fears, okay?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know if I can do this. Where is she, Laila?” My voice is a broken whisper, swallowed up by the murmur of traffic and distant laughter spilling from open bar doors. “What if she—” I choke back the words, unable to say them aloud.
Laila shakes her head, her silky hair a mess over her shoulders.
“This isn’t the first time we’ve gone through hell for our family. Let’s get this done and then we can get back to looking for your sister.”
I draw in a lungful of hot air and release it slowly. “We don’t have much of a choice do we?”
The last time I was doing this feels like a lifetime ago, but really seven months since I dragged my sister off a urine stained mattress and dropped Adora into a rehab. The second she finished her program I packed our book collection in a car and pointed our borrowed pickup south. We made promises to each other. She promised there would be no more of ruining her life for bad boys. I promised to make us enough money to open our own book store. We swore to each other we would be different from our mother. Hello, fresh start. Goodbye junkie mother and prison-bound step-father.
It was easier to keep her clean in a new city and rebuild our lives.
Or so I thought.Hoped. Wished.
Fuck. Whatever. The cold reality of it is, once an addict always an addict. A hard lesson I wish no one ever had to learn, but here we are.
Back home I knew people and people recognized me and my sister. It never took more than a day to find my sister when she eventually got pulled into some shit with her trashy boyfriend. But I have no one to call here. Leaning on the cops to actually find my missing sister among the tens of missing daily reports is going about as well as expected until detective Lafleur called. I was not ready for her to ask me to come in to help rule out the unidentified body in the city morgue could be my sister. Lucky for me Laila was already here to offer support and help me find my sister.
I pause mid-step when the flurry of color catches my eye.
“What?” Laila follows my line of sight to a small table
We are between Saint Louis Cathedral and Jackson Square. A small group of women gather around a rickety table with a purple and red cloth thrown over it. On top is a set of solitary cards. Behind the table sits a beautiful black woman with an array of colorful dreadlocks settled over one shoulder. She slowly pushes up from a chair when our gazes lock. I swear with everything I am made of that the woman ten paces away from me radiates love which gives authenticity to her friendly smile.
Madame Celeste. Her name floats through my mind though I’ve never met her. But I’ve heard her name whispered a few times between the customers at the diner where I wait tables six days a week. They say she’s an intuitive. Some use the wordmagicaland that she foretells events before they happen. It seems all like a big wild story to me, but the longer I look into her brown eyes,the more I want to believe. I can’t tell you how many nights I have wondered if I should search for her. Countless.
We move across the street dodging pedestrians and street vendors all looking to grab our attention.
“There you are, child. I’ve been waiting for you.We’vebeen waiting for you.”
I press a hand to my stomach, willing it to settle. “Madame Celeste?”
The energy around her lures me closer while the voice in my head says for me to run the other way. Not because she will hurt me, but because she knows the truth and I don't know if I’m ready.
“We?” Laila asks for the both of us since my brain hits the breaks for a second.
Chills erupt down my arms, and what my brain wants to tell me she means. But I’m not going there.
“Hm-hm” she hums. “Spirit has been waiting for you.” Madame Celeste picks up the cards, shuffling them slowly, never taking her eyes from mine.
“Oh, interesting. I didn’t know you enjoyed getting your cards read, too.” Laila nudges my shoulder with her. She pushes us closer to the table but I dig in my heels.
“Whoa. Wait. No.” I grab at my chest and rub my fingers over my racing heart that suddenly wants to beat its way out.
“What’s wrong?” Laila nudges me gently.
