Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
She had long gray hair that was braided in two ponytails that stopped past her waist.
Some of the huge men backed away as if nervous about pissing her off.
Rafael even inched behind Gwen, and all of his men put their guns up and took their asses right back into the vans.
Alright. I’m taking note. Don’t fuck with her.
No one moved their lips.
It must have been silent as hell outside the car. I bet even birds and crickets shut the fuck up.
From the porch, the woman looked down at Gwen and Rafael for several silent seconds. Then, she turned her view to our vehicle and I swore she stared directly at me for one long minute.
I tensed.
Next, she moved her focus to the van that I knew Timur was locked in.
Can she see through metal or something?
Right when I thought she was going to say something, she lifted her cane, turned around, and took her time heading back into the house.
Not one person said anything.
Even I didn’t speak until the door closed.
Rafael glanced over his shoulder and gestured for us to come.
None of us moved.
“And what about this house, Butcher?” I looked at Jean-Pierre. “Do you think magic and miracles are here?”
Terror filled his eyes. He blinked. “Rafael claims that Gwen’s grandmother has divine healing powers. He says that she can fix everything from disease and haunted houses to career and love problems.”
“But, how does he know?”
“Rafael said he saw it himself, and that she fixed him.”
“Fixed him from what?”
“Childhood trauma and a broken heart.”
For some reason, that sent chills up my spine. “Even if she could, I don’t think I can have your back with whatever is in there. I bet you they won’t let us take our guns into the house. Boris and I won’t be able to protect you. It would be a waste of your money.”
“Sometimes I don’t need men to shoot their guns.” He swallowed. “Sometimes I just need. . .men next to me.”
Fuck.
I looked at Boris. “What do you think?”
“There is one thing that I am certain of.” Boris took off his seatbelt. “That woman should be able to fix Timur.”
Taking off my seatbelt, I sighed. “Sure, but will we get fucked up in the process?”
Jean-Pierre gave me a sad smile. “Have faith in the storm of fear, Maxwell.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I left the Benz. “I’ve had just about enough of faith in these past days.”
Chapter 16
The Voodoo Woman
N
ow out of the Benz, we headed off.
Rafael and Gwen had a hushed argument by the steps. Their voices were barely audible above the sound of various car doors slamming as the Pansies decided to come back out. Still, they kept their guns hidden. Most constantly checked the porch as if making sure the small woman didn’t return.
She must have done something to them. What the hell is going on?
Rafael’s men took Timur out of the van. The crazy guy still stood on the dolly with the straight jacket on. However, this time red tinted his face. He looked like he’d been crying. I was sure Timur was going to yell something out about the Great Eagle, but as soon as he caught sight of the house, he cried to put him back in the van.
Damn. Even his crazy ass knows something is wrong.
“Please.” Timur kept his voice low. “Please, don’t take me into that place.”
The men ignored Timur and rolled him forward.
“I. . .I’m sorry for anything that I’ve done.” Timur trembled. “Please, get me back in the van. I like it there better.”
When Jean-Pierre, Boris, and I approached the steps, Timur was near us on that dolly.
“Maxwell! Maxwell!” Timur struggled in the straitjacket. “Don’t let them take me in there. The Great Eagle doesn’t like this place. The Great Snake is here.”
I ignored him and headed up the stairs.
Four men carried Timur and the dolly up with us.
When we all made it to the porch, Gwen’s huge half-brothers and cousins surrounded us.
I felt like a weak little frail man.
What the hell are they feeding you all down here in the south? You all must be eating gun powder with your grits.
A bald headed guy stepped to Jean-Pierre. “We need you to get rid of those guns.”
The Butcher was no fool. He gave a half bow, pulled his weapon out of his jacket, and gave it to the man. “I would love to do so.”
Another man with cornrows grabbed the Butcher’s gun and then spit on the ground.
Not needing anyone to tell us shit, Boris and I followed, taking our guns from our jackets and giving our weapons to anyone willing to grab them.
Bald Head snatched my gun from me and glared.
Hey, man. I don’t have any beef with you.
Suddenly, a feminine voice sounded from inside the house. “Maxwell can keep his gun.”
Uh. . ? Was that her? Who told this woman my name?