I padded to Eyang Ida on my big soft paws and curled by her feet, my left front paw on my right. Hold on. I will free you, too.
I faced Jim and let my magic spread from me. Flowers pushed through the moss at my feet, blooming into tiny yellow and white blossoms. A blue butterfly floated next to me, bouncing on soft wings. A white one joined it, then another and another . . .
Jim stared at me, his jaw hanging open.
My magic slid up the tree trunks. The oaks above us groaned, their branches moved, compelled by my power, and a ray of sunlight, pure and warm, fell on the old woman’s face. Eyang Ida took a deep breath and blinked.
Jim dropped my glasses into the moss.
THE problem with being a shapeshifter is that you can never keep your clothes on, which is why I always carried a spare outfit in my car. So when we pulled up in front of Eyang Ida’s son’s house and Jim carried the fragile old lady to the front door, I was able to knock with my modesty intact.
The door swung open and Wayan, Eyang Ida’s son, saw his mother. He grabbed her from Jim and ran inside. The family swarmed us and pulled us into the house. The air washed over us, bringing with it aromas from the kitchen: tumeric, garlic, onion, ginger, lemongrass, cinnamon, and the roast duck. Bebek Betutu was cooking somewhere nearby.
Everyone was talking at once. What happened, why, does she need to go to the hospital? I answered as fast as I could. She was attacked by black magic; she will be okay; no, the hospital isn’t needed, just bed rest and lots of love from her family; no, thank you, I wasn’t hungry . . . After the first twenty minutes, the storm of questions and excitement died down and Iluh got through to us.
“Thank you for saving my grandmother!”
The relief on her face was so obvious, I hated to shatter it. “It’s not over yet.”
Iluh’s face fell. “What do you mean?”
“I need to talk to you,” I told her.
A couple of minutes later Jim, Iluh, her mother Komang, and I sat in the wicker chairs on the back porch, away from the family’s buzz. Iluh and Komang looked alike: both pretty, graceful, and tall. Komang held a degree in chemical engineering. My mother and she had come to Atlanta as part of the same corporate expansion just after the Shift.
I faced Komang and spoke in English for Jim’s benefit. “This is Jim. He is . . .”
Oh gods what should I call him . . . If I introduced him as my boyfriend, it would get back to my mother.
“We work together,” Jim said.
Nice save.
“And we’re dating.”
Damn it!
Komang raised her eyebrows. “Congratulations!”
Argh! I almost slapped my face with my hand.
“Won’t it cause an issue at your workplace?” Iluh asked.
“It won’t.” Jim gave them a smile. “I’m the boss.”
I glared at him. What the hell are you so happy about? He grinned at me and patted my hand with his.
I turned to the two women. “Your mother was attacked by jenglots.”
Komang blinked at me. “A jenglot? How bizarre. She was always afraid of them. She saw one when she was a child. It wasn’t real, just something a taxidermist made out of some horsehair and a dead monkey, but it terrified her. She had nightmares about it for years.”
There was no such thing as coincidence when it came to magic. “Usually when a jenglot tribe appears, it begins with a Queen. She enchants a person and begins to feed. When the magic essence of the person is exhausted, he or she becomes a jenglot. The jenglot magic begins to poison the area. One by one the tribe grows. A typical tribe is about five to eight members. More than twenty, and the tribe becomes a swarm. We saw at least fifty jenglots around your mother.”
“Fifty?” Komang opened her eyes wide.
“Yes,” Jim said.
“A swarm of this size would have to steal a person every week,” I said. “There is no way fifty people vanished in Eyang Ida’s neighborhood and nobody noticed. Not only that, but because jenglot magic is so toxic, it poisons the area around their nest. It is difficult to purge. The purification in Eyang Ida’s house took very little effort.”
“What are you trying to say?” Iluh asked.
“Someone summoned the jenglot swarm. I think someone deliberately targeted your grandmother.”
The two women looked at each other.
“But why?” Komang asked.
“Eyang Ida has no enemies,” Iluh said.
“No personal grudges?” I asked. “No irate neighbors? Nobody jealous or mad at her? Any frenemies?”
Komang glanced at Iluh. “Frenemy?”
“A fake person who pretends to be nice but secretly hates you,” Iluh said. “I don’t think so.”
Komang shook her head. “No, she would’ve told me.”
“It doesn’t have to be someone with a grudge.” Jim leaned back in his chair. “Most homicides are committed for three reasons: sex, revenge, or profit.”
“We can rule out sex,” Komang said. “My mother was happily married for over fifty years. My father died two years ago and she isn’t looking for romance.”