TEN

Today’s agenda:

I’m barely managing the first item.

The backyard fills with Jada’s screeches as Luis chases her. Another sleepless night, but Thomas may have gotten a jump start on surveilling me for “Blackbead standards,” so I try to be attentive. It’s not easy, though, handling this duppy shit by myself. Last night, I snuck into the theater and curled up in one of the seats to sleep. It felt like a good idea; my room seemed like the epicenter of paranormal activity, so the less time I spent there, the better. But I only rested for a couple hours before dragging myself back to my own bed. I didn’t know what would happen if Thomas or the Halls caught me snoozing outside of my quarters, and I didn’t want to risk it.

Two or three hours of sleep isn’t enough, and I’m feeling it.

I’m in pieces. But unease and dread hold my eyes open. If the kids fell in the pool under my care, I’d never forgive myself for failing to protect them. Never mind that I’d be terminated faster than a half-baked Netflix show.

Except losing this job feels like the least of my problems now. In fact, it seems unavoidable. Joy won’t let me stay here, happy and healthy. So either I leave on my own, or she finds a way to force me out.

And she’s always been stronger than me.

Gregory and Aaron work close by, pruning slightly overgrown bushes. Gregory snipes at Aaron to work quicker; Aaron focuses on one area, trying to perfect it. Their usual dynamic.

A reminder to be normal. To hold it together. To not scare the kids by acting like a weirdo zombie.

“You thirsty out here?” Chef Wesley asks. He comes bearing a platter of glasses, each cup full of ginger beer. The kids cheer, grab their drinks, and sit on the poolside chairs, pretending to be little adults. “Got drink for you too,” Wesley adds. He rotates the tray so I can pick up the glass with the pineapple wedge. In a blink, his soft smile shifts into some awful shark-toothed sneer. Before I can scream, it snaps itself back into his familiar kind face.

I’m tripping.

The sight of the drink makes my gut churn. I graciously accept it anyway.

Wesley hands Aaron a cup of water. There were only three glasses of ginger beer—for me and the kids. It bugs me, but Aaron doesn’t seem to mind the rules about what he can and can’t drink while working. Wesley hurries back inside, leaving Aaron and me alone.

“Still not sleeping?” he asks. I squint at him, confused. He motions to my eyes. “Little dark under there. I hope is not rude to say.” I didn’t bother applying concealer; here, my makeup melts right off.

“I could use a nap,” I admit. After the endless phone calls from a few nights ago, and the blood bull… “And maybe, like, an exorcist?”

I tell Aaron everything that’s happened since I moved into Blackbead. He listens well.

He places his water glass on the patio table. “Definitely duppy work,” he concludes. “And it nah like you at Blackbead. Want you gone.” He shrugs. “Might be the safest thing.”

He’s not wrong. Even without Joy terrorizing me, I legally shouldn’t be in the Halls’ home. Any way you slice it, it’s dangerous to stay in Blackbead. But the wild thing? I still feel like I’m supposed to be in Jamaica. I’m meant to be here so I can figure out my life and be a better me. I’m closer to doing that than ever before. Yet it still might be out of my reach.

Justice is a bitch.

This disturbed, haunted life is what I’ll have now, probably until the day I die. But no matter what happens to me, Aaron doesn’t need to worry about it.

“Maybe you’re right about leaving,” I tell him coolly. “But I don’t think my work contract will release me due to ghostly activity. So I’m locked in.”

“Brave thing,” Aaron says. “Need to brew you a bush tea to try keep the duppy off you. If you’re staying, that is.”

“I am.” For now.

“A warning, then. Because the spirit seem like it on a real mission. And ghost them can be a beast if you not careful. You gotta move with caution around the Blackbead duppy.”

The Blackbead duppy…

“Hold up. The other day,” I begin, “you said you felt like Blackbead has always had duppies, right?”

His energy lifts at the question. He doesn’t have anyone to discuss ghost stuff with, does he? “I’ll be honest: I haven’t seen anything too, too serious. But the day I start work here, I smelled honeysuckle right away, strong. The scent usually only that intense at night, so I figure the Halls must have a lot of honeysuckle here for it to be so… in your face.”

“And you said they don’t have any?”

“I asked Gregory. The Halls don’t care for it, so none here. Not then, not now. So where the smell come from? I started to wonder.”

“Anything else?”

Aaron’s posture contracts a little. “Well, I once saw Wesley toss rice out the kitchen window. Said a spirit bother him while him try cook, so he make it count the grains one by one. Keep it busy until he could see Mother Maud and get a wash to protect himself.”

No, Aaron’s evidence isn’t strong. Or definitive. But he believes in it. And I know what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt. There’s a presence here. And at this rate, it’s going to kill me. Or melt my brain. Whichever comes first.

“So you think some random ghost moved in to Blackbead and started going wild?”

“Nah, not random at all.” Aaron takes a seat next to me, leans his forearms on his knees. “After a while, the valet told me about the legend of the Blackbead duppy.”

Josh has mentioned the Blackbead duppy in passing, but nobody’s explained its backstory to me.

“Don’t know how true this is, but you gotta hold it down, okay? Don’t spread this around.” Don’t have to tell me twice. “Some people say Mr. Hall have an ancestor way back named Solomon. Work ’pon the sugar plantation that used to be near here. Him close with the master’s nanny—she a wet nurse. And she trust Solomon.” He bounces a knee like telling a ghost story literally gives him life. “One day, she tell him she plan to escape with her little ones. She want to join the Maroons, live free with ’em. She even ask him to come with her.”

I see where this is going. “She didn’t make it.”

“Worse. Solomon told their master. To gain favor.” It’s always betrayal that destroys everything. “The nanny didn’t get far. She kept running. So the master kill her. And the children them.”

“And then Solomon felt like a piece of shit and atoned, right?”

“If he did, maybe the duppy wouldn’t be so mad.” Good point. “Nah, for his loyalty, the man got his freedom, tiny plot of land, and the master’s last name. But nobody trust him. What Solomon did follow him for generations.”

“So the legend is that the wet nurse is the one haunting the Halls now?”

Aaron nods. “Solomon was Mr. Hall’s great-great-great grandfather. So they say the nanny haunt Solomon’s entire bloodline to this day. Because the Halls are successful, but the success born through deception. She lost everything because of him, and she nah stop until his family lose everything too.”

A tiny spark comes to life. So small, so delicate.

If all that Aaron says is even slightly true, then the ghost might have been at Blackbead long before Joy became a ghost herself.

So, could the duppy… not be Joy?

Of course. Why not? If the ghost were Joy, why show up now instead of haunting my lonely-ass New York bedroom right after she died? It makes more sense that whatever’s troubling me has been here longer than I have.

Or maybe I just want it to make more sense than what I’ve been believing. Is that so wrong? When Aaron said a duppy was tormenting me, my mind crumbled at the mere idea of ever facing Joy and her anger again. I felt small, overwhelmed. Like if she didn’t end me, I might do it myself someday, because witnessing her rage is too much. But that’s not what I want. I want to take the best of Joy and the best of me and get away from my wreckage. I want to be better. I want to be new.

Taking pieces of Joy’s identity opened a path to freedom. I could come to Jamaica and escape the worst of who I used to be. So what do I do if I can’t get away?

If Joy is the duppy, everything ends. There’s no reason for her to let me survive.

But if the duppy’s the one from the myth, then I still have a chance. At happiness. At redemption. I just need to appease it, exorcise it, something. That possibility holds me up, strengthens me.

This ghost can’t be Joy. It has to be tied to the legend. And I’ll prove it. Somehow.

I’d puzzle this out alone. But I think I need help. From an expert. A believer.

Like Aaron.

Careful.

If I play this right, I solve this mystery and go back to my new normal. My new normal is all I have.

I take in Aaron’s tall frame and broad shoulders. The grim expression on his face. Two sharp horns erupt from the top of his head. I don’t blink until I come back to reality, and the horns fade away.

I’m slipping.

And staying close to Aaron might be what keeps me sane.

I’d never do anything to purposely hurt Ora. But Aaron is all I have, the only one who accepts this, no questions asked.

I look Aaron in the eye. “So how do we get rid of a duppy?”

Aaron grows still. “We see Mother Maud.”