"I know that it is a charm of some kind, of course. But do the police now threaten old women with voodoo?"
"Whatever works," I said.
"Anita," Dolph said.
"Sorry." I glanced at John, and he nodded. I sat the gris-gris on the carpet about six feet from Dominga Salvador. I had had to take John's word on a lot of this. I had checked some of it over the phone with Manny. If this worked and if we could get it admitted into court, and if we could explain it to the jury, then we might have a case. How many ifs was that?
The gris-gris just sat there for a moment, then the finger bones rippled as if an invisible finger had ruffled them.
Dominga lifted her granddaughter from her lap and shooed the boys over to Enzo. She sat alone on the couch and waited. The strange little smile was still on her face, but it looked sickly now.
The charm began to ooze towards her like a slug, pushing and struggling with muscles it did not have. The hairs on my arms stood to attention.
"You recording this, Bobby?" Dolph asked.
The cop with the video camera said, "I'm getting it. I don't f**king believe it, but I'm getting it."
"Please, do not use such words in front of the children," Dominga said.
The cop said, "Sorry, ma'am."
"You are forgiven." She was still trying to play the perfect hostess while that thing crawled towards her feet. She had nerve. I'd give her that.
Antonio didn't. He broke. He strode forward as if he meant to pluck the thing from the rug.
"Don't touch it," Dolph said.
"You are frightening my grandmother with your tricks," he said.
"Don't touch it," Dolph said again. This time he stood. His bulk seemed to fill the room. Antonio looked suddenly small and frail beside him.
"Please, you are frightening her." But it was his face that was pale and covered with a sheen of sweat. What was ol' Tony in such a fret about? It wasn't his ass going to jail.
"Stand over there," Dolph said, "now, or do we have to cuff you?"
Antonio shook his head. "No, I . . . I will go back." He did, but he glanced at Dominga as he moved. A quick, fearful glance. When she met his eyes, there was nothing but rage in them. Her black eyes glittered with rage. Her face was suddenly contorted with it. What had happened to strip the act away? What was going on?
The gris-gris made its painful way to her. It fawned at her feet like a dog, rolling on the toes of her shoes in abandon like a cat who wants its belly rubbed.
She tried to ignore it, to pretend.
"Would you refuse your returned power?" John asked.
"I don't know what you mean." Her face was under control again. She looked puzzled. Gosh, she was good. "You are a powerful voodoo priest. You are doing this to trap me."
"If you don't want the charm, I will take it," he said. "I will add your magic to mine. I will be the most powerful practitioner in the States." For the first time, John's power flowed across my skin. It was a breath of magic that was frightening. I had begun to think of John as ordinary, or as ordinary as any of us get. My mistake.
She just shook her head.
John strode forward and knelt, reaching for the writhing gris-gris. His power moved with him like an invisible hand.
"No!" She grabbed it, cradling it in her hands.
John smiled up at her. "Do you acknowledge that you made this charm? If not, I can take it and use it as I see fit. It was found in my brother's effects. It's legally mine, correct, Sergeant Storr?"
"Correct," Dolph said.
"No, you cannot."
"I can and I will, unless you look into that camera and admit making it."
She snarled at him. "You will regret this."
"You will regret having killed my brother."
She stared at the video camera. "Very well, I made this charm, but I admit nothing else. I made the charm for your brother, but that is all."
"You performed human sacrifice to make this charm," John said.
She shook her head. "The charm is mine. I made it for your brother, that is all. You have the charm but nothing else."
"Señora, forgive me," Antonio said. He looked pale and shaken and very, very scared.
"Calenta," she said, "shut up!"
"Zerbrowski, take our friend here into the kitchen and take his statement," Dolph said.
Dominga stood at that. "You fool, you miserable fool. Tell them anything more, and I will rot the tongue out of your mouth."
"Get him out of here, Zerbrowski."
Zerbrowski led a nearly weeping Antonio from the room. I had a feeling that of Tony had been responsible for getting the charm back. He failed, and he was going to pay the consequences. The police were the least of his problems. If I were him, I'd make damn sure grandma was locked up tonight. I wouldn't want her near her voodoo paraphernalia. Ever.
"We're going to search now, Mrs. Salvador."
"Help yourself, Sergeant. You will find nothing else to help you."
She was very calm when she said it. "Even the stuff behind the doors?" I asked.
"They are gone, Anita. You will find nothing that is not legal and . . . wholesome." She made that last sound like a bad word.
Dolph glanced my way. I shrugged. She seemed awfully sure.
"Okay, boys, take the place apart." Uniforms and detectives moved like they had a purpose. I started to follow Dolph out. He stopped me.
"No, Anita, you and Burke stay up here."
"Why?"
"You're civilians."
A civilian, me? "Was I a civilian when I walked the cemetery for you?"
"If one of my people could have done it, I wouldn't have let you do that either."
"Let me?"
He frowned. "You know what I mean."
"No, I don't think I do."
"You may be a bad ass, you may even be as good as you think you are, but you aren't police. This is a job for cops. You stay in the living room with the civies just this once. When it's all clear, you can come down and identify the bogeymen for us."
"Don't do me any favors, Dolph."
"I didn't peg you for a pouter, Blake."
"I am not pouting," I said.
"Whining?" he said.
"Cut it out. You've made your point. I'll stay behind, but I don't have to like it."
"Most of the time you're ass deep in alligators. Enjoy being out of the line of fire for once, Anita." With that he led the way towards the basement.
I hadn't really wanted to go down into the darkness again. I certainly didn't want to see the creature that had chased Manny and I up the stairs. And yet . . . I felt left out. Dolph was right. I was pouting. Great.
John Burke and I sat on the couch. Dominga sat in the recliner where she had been since we hit the door. The children had been shooed out to play, with Enzo to watch them.
He looked relieved. I almost volunteered to go with them. Anything was better than just sitting here straining to hear the first screams.
If the monster, and that was the only word that matched the noises, was down there, there would be screaming. The police were great with bad guys, but monsters were new to them. It had been simpler, in a way, when all this shit was taken care of by a few experts. A few lone people fighting the good fight. Staking vampires. Turning zombies. Burning witches. Though there is some debate whether I might have ended up on the receiving end of some fire a few years back. Say, the 1950s.
What I did was undeniably magic. Before we got all the bogeymen out in the open, supernatural was supernatural. Destroy it before it destroys you. Simpler times. But now the police were expected to deal with zombies, vampires, the occasional demon. Police were really bad with demons. But then who isn't?
Dominga sat in her chair and stared at me. The two uniforms left in the living room stood like all police stand, blank faced, bored, but let anyone move and the cops saw it. The boredom was just a mask. Cops always saw everything. Occupational hazard.
Dominga wasn't looking at the police. She wasn't even paying attention to John Burke, who was much closer to her equal. She was staring at little old me.
I met her black gaze and said, "You got a problem?"
The cop's eyes flicked to us. John shifted on the couch. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"She's staring at me."
"I will do a great deal more than stare at you, chica." Her voice crawled low. The hairs at the nape of my neck tried to crawl down my shirt.