Something About Harry(30)
Harry growled in response, a low hum Mara recognized as menacing.
She put her hand back on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed it, telling herself it was to settle him down rather than just experience the firm, round muscle of his flesh beneath her fingers. “Finish, Guido. Hurry. I make no promises he won’t shift at this point. It could get hairy—literally.”
Guido gripped the edge of the table. “Since then, I just fake it. I’m not in this to hurt anyone. I make everyone sign a disclaimer, all legal-like, so I don’t have to deal with the repercussions if the spell actually works. Most times, it doesn’t work well because I don’t know what the hell all that mumbo jumbo in that book I inherited means. Or if it does work, I can’t pinpoint how I made it work. I just know I don’t guarantee shit.”
Harry bristled, sitting up in his chair. “So I’m guessing this means I paid you to trick me so you had grocery money? That’s a lot of grocery money, man . . .”
Guido gave him a guilty look and, reaching into his pocket, he dropped a wad of bills on the table using his fingers to push them at Harry.
Mara grabbed the wad of bills with a gasp. “Guido! This is an indecent amount of money for probably nothing. Shame on you.”
“So no go on the werewolf reversion after drinking what tasted like toxic waste?” Harry asked, shoving half the wad back at Guido because the Harry she knew had a good heart.
Guido toyed with the bills, finally looking at Harry, gratitude filling his eyes. “Probably not, but you never know, right? The mishaps like the mute guy happened in the adjustment phase of this crazy. Since then, I’ve stayed away from the general population, and I guess whatever this thing I was given is, it evened out. As long as I’m around all this stuff that was mysteriously shipped back from Africa with my personal belongings—” he pointed to the mason jars, and dried skulls hanging from the ceiling “—the voodoo crap, or whatever it’s called, seems to stay quiet. It’s just when I try to leave everything all behind and start a new, voodoo-free life things go to hell in a fruitcake. So I stay to protect everyone else. But I need to have food and shelter. I won’t apologize for that.” He pulled his shoulders back tight, shooting them all a defiant look.
“So what did you give Harry?” Mara was suspicious again. And afraid. Very afraid.
He shot a dismissive hand up. “Just some dirt from my garden, and some fresh herbs with some banana seed oil. I think. I mix it up with coconut milk and a Capri Sun to hide the flavor.”
Harry chuckled. “You need to work harder. It was disgusting.”
Mara finally felt comfortable enough to sit. She grabbed the last toppled chair, her anger passing and sympathy setting in. How awful to never be able to see your family again because you might turn them into a mute—or a toad. “So what about all these experiments gone wrong we heard about. If you’re so innocent, how’d they happen?”
“I’ve screwed up pretty royally a few times now, but it wasn’t on purpose. I really was trying to do what I’m supposed to do—my destiny, as the villagers called it,” he defended with a scoff.
Though it was with a defeated air to it. One that left Mara sad.
“But after Carl, I learned my lesson and stopped trying to fulfill my destiny. I’d rather be a crappy witch doctor than screw up like I did with Carl. Now, mostly, I fake it. I jump around—shake some maracas, make stupid noises, and dance like I saw some tribal dudes do on Nat Geo. Then I take the cash so I can afford to eat canned ravioli and, sometimes when the greens are right, a can of tuna. I’m livin’ the witch doctor life, people.”
A loud scraping noise from the back of Guido’s shack startled them all. When the noise groaned and snorted, Nina was on her feet, leering down at Guido. “What the fuck?”
“Jesus, what is it with you and all the snarling? Relax, lady. It’s just Carl.”
The moaning and grunting became louder, almost enraged.
“What the fuck is a Carl?” she roared seconds before a large, grayish blue figure with stringy hair and hands the size of slabs of meat stumbled into view.
Harry was up on his feet and shoving Mara away in an instant, his strong hands forcing her behind him. “Is that what I think it is?”
Oh, sweet heaven. Mara nodded, but words eluded her. She didn’t even have time to appreciate Harry’s forceful touch on her body.
“It is not,” Harry mumbled, shaking his head as if doing so would make it all go away.
She cleared her throat after a gulp. But it was . . . “Oh, yes. Yes, I believe it is.”