Spell for Sophia
Sophia Perez-Hidalgo’s has to master her magic – her life depends on it as she runs from her lawless parents and their evil boss.
When she runs as far as the Lousiana bayou, fate delivers her into the arms of Shiloh Breaux Martine, and his grand-mère, a voodoo priestess.
How far will Sophia have to run to escape her parents and their boss forever?
“I will not drop you off at the nearest town,” Breaux insisted the next morning. We stood in the small sitting room where I had slept on the sofa and he had snored into a pillow on the floor. Neither of us had felt comfortable disturbing Mam’zelle’s bed. “You’re coming home with me. Maman will want to hear about Grand-mère.”
I knew what he was thinking — you owe her. I crossed my arms over my chest. “You can tell her.”
The vein above his left eyebrow throbbed. I could tell he was clenching his teeth. He always clenched them when he was angry. I jutted my chin so he wouldn’t know how much I wanted to go with him. Finally he said in a low voice, “I never figured you for a coward.”
“Excuse me?” My tone sharpened.
He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. We had dressed in jeans, long-sleeved knit tops, and hoodies. “You’re afraid Maman won’t believe you.”
I averted my gaze and ran my hand down the fuzzy scarlet scarf Ainslie had given me one Christmas. He was right; that worry had been in the back of my mind. But mainly it would shatter my soul to be surrounded by Miss Wanda’s motherly kindness. Worse, to be under the same roof as Breaux knowing Mam’zelle would disapprove. No point further scarring my heart or angering a deceased mambo queen. I still had a little pride and a large desire for self-preservation.
Breaux’s voice softened. “Don’t run away. Tell Maman about Grand-mère. She’ll want to hear about the soul path. I won’t be able to do it justice.”
A boulder of resolve tumbled from my shoulders. I searched for an excuse. “Your mother is a foster parent. I’m underage. Won’t she be obligated to report me to the authorities?”
“She hasn’t so far. Besides, they could help you get home.”
I blinked back tears. “You don’t get it. I have no home. I can’t go near anyone I care about.” I lifted my backpack off the floor and glanced at the front door. “I need to find a safe hideout—”
He stepped closer and reached for my backpack. His fingers brushed mine, sending tingles up my arm. “Tell me why you need to hide.”
“I can’t. You’ll hate me.”
“Did you kill someone?”
I shook my head.
Breaux placed the backpack on the floor beside us and took my hand. Palm to palm, our fingers laced together. A thrill shivered my stomach. “Rob a bank?” he asked.
“Harm an animal?”
I glared at him. “Of course not.”
He wrapped his free arm around my waist as though we were slow dancing. “Buy more than fifteen items at the grocery express line?”
I laughed. “Maybe.”
His eyebrows arched. He waited. I knew him. He could wait until the next hurricane hit.
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