Free Forbidden Fruit by Ann Aguirre

kills me dead. Dead, I tell you, especially the way he stretches the word very . He goes on, “But yes. In beer, it’s Flying Dog pale ale. For sipping, I prefer Chivas, if you’re looking to buy me something nice.”
    I grin. “I doubt I can afford it on a Pretzel Pirate’s salary.”
    “Then you’d better find a higher-paying job if you intend to keep me in the style to which I’ve become accustomed.”
    I absolutely love this exchange because the idea of me being Jesse’s sugar momma is hilarious. Besides, he gets a cop’s paycheck, so he’s not used to a lavish lifestyle. I’m giggling quietly as the bartender says: “Twila will see you now.”
    Jesse takes my hand and guides me back, suddenly somber, and I take my cue from him. My first impression of the Queen of Texas is regal beauty. Her presence is powerful, making you want to drop to one knee in obeisance. I can imagine her seducing Mark Anthony or captivating Caesar on a barge drifting slowly down the Nile. She’s tall, stately, with graceful shoulders and dusky skin. Her black hair hangs in beautiful braids, twisted together and caught in a golden snood. This only reveals her strong jaw and sculpted cheekbones. Right now, I realize I’ve been staring too long, but she must be used to startling people with her majesty.
    Her office is equally impressive, all old-world elegance. I dip at the knee, unable to control the urge. Jesse bends as well, bowing before her.
    And Twila smiles.
    “I wondered how long it would be before you lost lambs came bleating at me.” Her voice is lovely too, mellifluous and rich with just a hint of tropical islands. “Sit, little one.”
    She’s clearly talking to me, so I obey, folding my hands in my lap like I’ve been called out for disciplinary action. I’m so nervous, more than when the old woman was trying to murder me. And what sense does that make? Yet the air feels thick, not with the dead, but…sentience. It’s like no feeling I’ve ever had before.
    Before I can speak, she adds, “Let me save you some time. You want your lost memories…and to know why the demons are involved.”
    Jesse was right; she does know everything. She’s like that song, where Santa Claus sounds like a stalker. He sets a hand on my shoulder, obviously sensing my emotional state. Something about this room is freaking me out. My skin literally creeps, like when I was being watched at the mall, only not quite.
    “You’re more sensitive than most,” she says softly. Then she whispers a few words, and the atmosphere lightens.
    “What did you do?”
    “Sent the loa away. Most people can’t feel them.”
    Wow . The power she commands awes and terrifies me. “You were right about why we’ve come.”
    “I can help,” she tells me. “But it will cost you.”
    “Without knowing what you’ll charge, I can’t say whether I’m willing to pay.”
    Twila arches a brow, glancing at Jesse. “I like this girl.”
    That’s good, right?
    “We’re willing to talk terms,” Jesse says. “But not before full disclosure.”
    “Then let me spell it out. In return for my aid, Shannon Cheney will come to work for me. People occasionally leave this life without telling me what I need to know. It would help me immeasurably to have someone who can coerce answers from beyond the grave.”
    “You can’t?” I ask, before realizing that might sound offensive.
    She shakes her head. “My loa can do many things, but they cannot pass to the other side. As I understand, nor can you. Instead, you call the dead back to you.”
    That’s a fair assessment. I’m about to agree to her bargain when Jesse presses on my shoulder. “Can we talk in private for a moment?”
    “Of course. You have five minutes.” She rises smoothly and steps out of the office, then I hear her moving away.
    “You can’t do this, Shan. Your life wouldn’t be your own…Twila will keep you on call twenty-four seven. And she won’t have a reason not to kill people.