I glanced at Perry, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. Her brow was furrowed, the wheels spinning; it was safe to say we were on the same page.
We lapsed into silence after that, Rose glancing at us on occasion, as if she could see the suspicion on our faces. After a while, the tension was too much for the giant jackass ginger and he started asking Rose about the people who used to work at the bar, harmless small talk, although I could sense rehashing the past was a bit leaden for both of them.
Fortunately, the Mambo’s house wasn’t too far outside the city limits. It was amazing how quickly the landscape changed, how the dark, murky waters, flocks of birds, and weeping trees took over civilization in an instant. Rose turned the truck onto a dirt road and we bounced down it, my eyes torn between the beauty of the dark swamp around us and the beauty of Perry’s bouncing br**sts.
The further we went, the more it looked like we’d never see a human soul again, until finally, rising up like a beacon, was a small, one-level house, bright white with green trim and a screened-in porch. The swamp water lapped a few feet away, and I noticed a low makeshift wall of sandbags sat between it and the house. There was also a small dock with a metal air boat on one side and a rowboat with peeling paint on the other. The inlet was flanked by drooping trees rising right out of the water, white egrets flapping noisily to and fro. Crickets and unknown insects chirped loudly, despite it being afternoon.
We parked the car beside two others, a small rusted Toyota and a brand new Range Rover.
“Does she have company over?” I asked.
She shook her head as she jumped out of the truck. “As I said, she’s shunned. Ambrosia keeps her Rover here since you can’t drive to her cabin anyway.”
“Ambrosia?”
She tried to a hide a smile. “Ambrosia Paris. It’s the name of her apprentice.”
That figured. I got out and was immediately met with the musty stench of the water, which was enjoyable in a weird way. I was also met with the sudden whine and pinch of mosquitoes.
I slapped my arm in several places, swearing. Mosquitoes were my nemesis these days. Back when I was on my medication, they never even bothered me, yet lately it was like my pure blood had been attracting them like crazy and now I was in Malaria City.
Rose leaned into the truck and pulled something out of the glove compartment. She tossed it at me and I caught it. Good ol’ fashioned Off!
“I don’t even get bitten anymore,” she said, “but you three won’t be so lucky. Spray yourself up.”
I clouded myself in a toxic mist and did the same to Perry before reluctantly giving the spray to Maximus. I guess it was more like I threw the spray at him, aiming it at his head. Big dumb oaf had quicker reflexes than I gave him credit for.
We waited for him to finish, then walked up to the house, following a stone path lined with translucent, reddish flowers that were shaped like bells. Butt ugly landscaping, if you asked me.
“Carnivorous plants,” Rose said, nodding at them with a grin. I was starting to get a distinct Little Shop of Horrors vibe from the place and the feeling doubled once we climbed up the steps and opened the rickety screen door to the porch.
The porch was lined with plant after plant after plant, some hanging from the roof, others seeming to grow straight up from the ground, breaking through the slats on the porch floor. There was also a mess of dried herbs, a bunch of jars filled with thick goo and what looked like embalmed reptiles, and a small fridge that hummed in the corner. I didn’t want to know what was in there.
Rose rapped on the glass door while my eyes were still searching the porch for more weirdness. I found it when I recognized a few beehives stacked in beneath a large Venus fly trap.
“Those don’t have bees, do they?” I asked. “Because I’m allergic. Seriously allergic.” And though I’d packed the Epi-Pen in my luggage, I hadn’t been smart enough to bring it with me. Then again, I didn’t know we’d been venturing out into an honest to God Voodoo hut on a bayou.
Rose shook her head. “They’ve been empty for a long time. Maryse used to use the beeswax for a lot of things.”
I swallowed hard, trying to slow my heart. That whole thing put me on edge and I had to remind myself that Maryse probably wasn’t much different from our old Medicine Man friend, Bird.
The door opened and I was expecting to see some horrible haggard old witch. Instead it was a smiling young woman. I was actually a bit taken aback. This woman was smoking hot.
“Hello, Rose,” she said in a very light Creole accent. She smiled brighter at the rest of us. “You must be the ghost hunters. I’m Ambrosia. Won’t you come in?”
Hell yes, we’d come in if she was showing us the way. She was a very light-skinned African American with pale green eyes, tall in stature. Her hair was shiny and wavy, rich like dark chocolate, going all the way to her ass. And what an ass. It was one of those shelf ones you were tempted to place something on, just to see if it would stay. I could bounce f**king nickels off that thing, if not smack it a few times with my dick.
I felt coldness from beside me and looked down at Perry, who was looking straight at Ambrosia with a worried look in her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. Ah shit, I’d been ogling the woman, hadn’t I? Jenn had never cared who I ogled, but Perry wasn’t built like that. I had to keep my old habits in check when I was around her and remember that she was a lot more insecure than she looked.
I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze while I introduced us to Ambrosia.
“I’m Dex, this is my girlfriend Perry.” I looked over at Maximus. “That’s Maximus Douchekabob. It’s a foreign-sounding last name, but he’s actually from here.”
Maximus glared at me before offering Ambrosia his hand and a shy smile. Well, wouldn’t you believe it, Maximus was smitten with her as well. I guess he wasn’t the racist redneck I’d pegged him out to be.
We followed Ambrosia inside and I did my best to keep my eyes off her jean-clad ass. I kept them on Perry’s br**sts instead and it worked out even better.
Maryse’s place was fairly large for being one-level, though it suffered from the same amount of controlled chaos and clutter as the porch did. Thankfully there was nothing of the heebie jeebie variety inside, just stacks and stacks of books and magazines, floral upholstery, watercolor landscapes, doilies, lace, dolls, and dust.