The Real Mrs. Price by J. D. Mason Page A

everything that week in Vegas. Eddie wined and dined her, danced with her, made love to her. He promised her that he’d give her everything she needed and even some things she didn’t. He’d promised to love her how she needed to be loved. He even bought her a ring. The morning after Marlowe said “I do,” she wished she hadn’t. If she had to pinpoint a moment when her life began spiraling out of control, that would be it, only she didn’t know it at the time.
    â€œWhat do you think he wants with me?” she asked, thinking back to that tall, dark man standing in her front yard. It was hard enough dealing with this drama that Eddie had caused. To have to deal with that one, too? Marlowe didn’t know if she had the strength.
    Her aunt sighed. “I had hoped that if you knew up front that he was coming, you could stop him. But apparently not. You might be able to fight him. It’ll have to be spiritual, though, because I imagine that he’s powerful.”
    â€œHe is,” she murmured. He was massive in size, but even more daunting than being physically powerful, Marlowe sensed that spiritually and possibly emotionally, he was like nothing or no one she’d ever encountered.
    â€œYou might be able to win. But I couldn’t tell you how. It could be that he just wants to use you for something and then go on his way,” Shou Shou said optimistically.
    â€œThe bones said he was coming for me.”
    â€œI don’t know what that means, Marlowe. It could mean so many things. Did he threaten you?”
    â€œWould he?”
    She shook her head. “Probably not. Was he charming?”
    â€œCharming with warning.”
    â€œYes,” she whispered, nodding. “Get the sage sticks out,” she advised her. “Carry your rosary. Stay prayed up.”
    She hadn’t told Marlowe to do anything she didn’t already know about, but she was right. Marlowe needed to do what she could to protect herself.
    â€œHoly water?” Holy water worked on demons, but Marlowe couldn’t be sure that it would work on an actual devil.
    â€œCan’t hurt.” Shou Shou sighed.
    All that was missing were wooden stakes, garlic, and silver bullets. Marlowe made a mental note to stop at the hardware store for wood and the grocery store for garlic on the way home. As for bullets? She figured that she might have to look for silver ones online.
    â€œEddie’s first wife had a man call and ask if she could come see me.”
    â€œYou say yes?”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI think she’s curious about me.”
    â€œHer curiosity is not your problem, Marlowe. That woman don’t need to be coming down here starting no mess.”
    â€œI’m curious, too, Auntie.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œHer. Him. She was married to him longer. Maybe she can tell me something about him that can help clear my name.”
    â€œWell, if she do or if she don’t, both of y’all were fools for a fool. And I’m sorry for you both.”

 
    Black Gypsy
    E VERYBODY DON ’ T NEED EYES to see. Shou Shou could tell that candle was burning by the smell and the warmth.
    An old scratchy song called “Black Gypsy Blues” spun on her record player. She’d been playing it over and over again all morning. That song was always in the back of her mind. Shou Shou played the record whenever people came to her for help having to do with otherworldly matters. She claimed that song as her own, claimed it was about her, written by a man who had loved her once. The women in Shou Shou’s family had never had much luck with love. Oh, the men found them easily enough, loved them hard and strong. All of the women were said to have been so beautiful that men couldn’t keep away from them, claimed that the women put spells on them that drove them mad with desire. Somehow, though, the men who loved them would end up dead or