Hungry Ghosts (Eric Carter #3)(79)

“Thanks,” she says, surprise clear on her face. “I’m not sure when. Might be a while. I’m still trying to figure some things out. But I thought you should know.” Translation: “I figured I shouldn’t be as big a prick as you were and just up and disappear.” Fair enough.

“That’s it, I guess,” she says. “You have the paperwork, you have the keys. Oh, there’s a lawyer’s card in there, too. You’re going to want to talk to him if you have any questions.”

“Cool. Lawyer. Got it.”

She steps forward uncertainly, arms out, steps back. I do the same. It’s the Hug Don’t Hug dance. We settle on shaking hands and I walk her to the door. I stand there until she gets into her car and pulls into the alley.

It’s a weird feeling watching her drive away. The last time it was me who was leaving. I left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. She’s classy enough to tell me, though god knows I don’t deserve it.

I really am sorry things went the way they did between us. But it was over a long time ago. It’s just taken me this long to let it go. I take a deep breath and close the door. It’s time I let go of something else, too.

I head into the living room, sit cross-legged on the floor, open my messenger bag. I start to pull out the things I’ll need, salt, a bundle of sage, a jar of red pepper flakes, sulfur. I stop when I find the Lotería cards.

I’ve been through this bag a hundred times since I left Mictlan. I know for a fact that these cards weren’t in there. LA MUERTE, LA CORONA, EL VALIENTE, EL ALACRáN, and finally EL CORAZóN. The five cards Tabitha drew for me from her deck in Tepito.

I can think of a connection to each one of those cards. Some more literally than others. I look at EL CORAZóN, the Heart. “No me extra?es corazón, que regreso en el camión,” is printed beneath the image of a heart surrounded by the same wedding band I’m wearing, calaveras carved along the side and everything. It’s not an image I’ve seen before, and it’s very clearly specific to me. But I don’t know what it means.

“Do not miss me, sweetheart, I’ll be back by bus,” I say, translating the phrase. “Well, goddamn.” She even predicted the Caddy breaking down.

I stack the cards neatly into a pile and slide them into my coat pocket. I’ll puzzle these out later. I have more important things to do right now.

I pour the salt and red pepper flakes into a wide circle, light the sage and put it out to let the pungent smoke fill the room. I can feel Lucy’s Echo become sharper in the background. I have its attention, or as near to that as you can get with a mindless projection of someone’s final moments.

I sit in the middle of the circle, and pull out my straight razor and a small, silver dish. I cut myself on my left forearm, blood dripping into the dish. I focus my magic on the blood like I’ve done a thousand times before. Shape the magic with my will, tie it into knots, let it flow out of me like water.

And say goodbye to my sister.