into a convenient pile of dog poop. Her blood still boiled after the revelation about Dianta being responsible for her being a seamstress and the way she treated her in front of Sean today. What was wrong with her? Why didn't she stand up for herself and stop letting Dianta push her around? It was as if her self-respect had died the day Miguel inherited the samba school.
High heels clicked, and cheap perfume filled the air. Speak of the devil , Carmella thought as she checked her watch. Odd, Dianta was usually long gone from the samba school by now. Maybe she was back to yell at her again. Dianta had made it clear that if she ever caught Carmella so much as looking at Sean she would be fired. A row of blue and green drummers' costumes swayed as Dianta shoved the rack to the side.
Carmella froze with the needle in her hand. Behind Dianta stood Branco, gripping his black wooden cane in his gloved hands. Scars ran down the side of one cheek and disappeared into the collar of his dress shirt. Though he was past middle age, his body was still strong beneath his expensive black suit. His dark eyes locked with hers as he said, “ O sono agora e esquece .”
****
Branco watched as Dianta brushed past Carmella's frozen form, making little cooing sounds as she admired the headdress. “Are you sure she can't hear us, meu amor ?” Dianta asked as she held up the top of her costume.
“Not unless I want her to. She's in Guaricana's power now. The spell makes her as helpless as a bug trapped in amber.” Branco watched Dianta with a dead smile.
“In that case…” Dianta purred, and she slid to Branco, running her hands over his dusky cheeks and kissing him as though his throat held the secrets of the universe.
Carmella remained frozen, the rise and fall of her chest and the occasional blink the only disruption of her still state. Her mind slept, and she remained unaware of everything around her.
Branco traced a gloved hand down Dianta's cheek. “You were wise to call me. My spell should have been strong enough to kill any attraction to a man, to squash any self-esteem that would allow her to think he might like her back. We need her to remain a virgin.”
“You should have seen her with that DJ. They were all, but fucking in the middle of the room. Thankfully I managed to break them up before anything happened. I thought we didn't have to worry about her when she started dressing like a boy. The only man she has had for company is that fag, Tian.”
Giving Dianta's butt a pat, Branco turned and looked at Carmella. “Be careful of Sean Kalmus. He is…a special favorite of his god. Much like I'm a special favorite of Guaricana. I can't be here on the days Sean visits. Only call me when you are sure he's not coming.”
Dianta gave him a disbelieving stare. “What can a stupid DJ do to you? You're a voodoo master, a High Priest of Guaricana. You have spilled oceans of blood for his glory.”
“It is best to strike from the dark, Dianta. To be the knife in the back. A betrayer. You should know this better than anyone,” Branco replied lightly.
Dianta's face twisted into an ugly snarl that no amount of plastic surgery could make pretty. “I told that little bitch,” she said and pointed at Carmella, “she would rue the day she stole the samba crown from me.”
“Yes, my dear. Now you have her business, her family is destroyed, and she's a broken seamstress making your clothes. You were well rewarded for bringing her to us. Guaricana enjoys using a favorite of a god of Creation for his bait.”
Slightly appeased, Dianta let out a huff. “When she's no longer of use to us, what are you going to do with her? Can I have her?” Malice glittered in her eyes.
“I'm afraid not. I have a better plan for her.” Using the edge of his cane, Branco lifted a lock of Carmella's long hair and let it fall. “Why, our little Carmella is going to be famous. She's going to take the blame for us in a spectacular
High heels clicked, and cheap perfume filled the air. Speak of the devil , Carmella thought as she checked her watch. Odd, Dianta was usually long gone from the samba school by now. Maybe she was back to yell at her again. Dianta had made it clear that if she ever caught Carmella so much as looking at Sean she would be fired. A row of blue and green drummers' costumes swayed as Dianta shoved the rack to the side.
Carmella froze with the needle in her hand. Behind Dianta stood Branco, gripping his black wooden cane in his gloved hands. Scars ran down the side of one cheek and disappeared into the collar of his dress shirt. Though he was past middle age, his body was still strong beneath his expensive black suit. His dark eyes locked with hers as he said, “ O sono agora e esquece .”
****
Branco watched as Dianta brushed past Carmella's frozen form, making little cooing sounds as she admired the headdress. “Are you sure she can't hear us, meu amor ?” Dianta asked as she held up the top of her costume.
“Not unless I want her to. She's in Guaricana's power now. The spell makes her as helpless as a bug trapped in amber.” Branco watched Dianta with a dead smile.
“In that case…” Dianta purred, and she slid to Branco, running her hands over his dusky cheeks and kissing him as though his throat held the secrets of the universe.
Carmella remained frozen, the rise and fall of her chest and the occasional blink the only disruption of her still state. Her mind slept, and she remained unaware of everything around her.
Branco traced a gloved hand down Dianta's cheek. “You were wise to call me. My spell should have been strong enough to kill any attraction to a man, to squash any self-esteem that would allow her to think he might like her back. We need her to remain a virgin.”
“You should have seen her with that DJ. They were all, but fucking in the middle of the room. Thankfully I managed to break them up before anything happened. I thought we didn't have to worry about her when she started dressing like a boy. The only man she has had for company is that fag, Tian.”
Giving Dianta's butt a pat, Branco turned and looked at Carmella. “Be careful of Sean Kalmus. He is…a special favorite of his god. Much like I'm a special favorite of Guaricana. I can't be here on the days Sean visits. Only call me when you are sure he's not coming.”
Dianta gave him a disbelieving stare. “What can a stupid DJ do to you? You're a voodoo master, a High Priest of Guaricana. You have spilled oceans of blood for his glory.”
“It is best to strike from the dark, Dianta. To be the knife in the back. A betrayer. You should know this better than anyone,” Branco replied lightly.
Dianta's face twisted into an ugly snarl that no amount of plastic surgery could make pretty. “I told that little bitch,” she said and pointed at Carmella, “she would rue the day she stole the samba crown from me.”
“Yes, my dear. Now you have her business, her family is destroyed, and she's a broken seamstress making your clothes. You were well rewarded for bringing her to us. Guaricana enjoys using a favorite of a god of Creation for his bait.”
Slightly appeased, Dianta let out a huff. “When she's no longer of use to us, what are you going to do with her? Can I have her?” Malice glittered in her eyes.
“I'm afraid not. I have a better plan for her.” Using the edge of his cane, Branco lifted a lock of Carmella's long hair and let it fall. “Why, our little Carmella is going to be famous. She's going to take the blame for us in a spectacular
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