“Your mother was worried.”
That didn’t seem strange to Memphis. She was a mother. Mothers worried. “What was she worried about?”
“She said she’d made a bad bargain.”
“What sort of b—”
“You want information. I want information. You first.” Seraphina leaned back and rested her slim forearms on the chair’s plush velvet arms. “Four of my runners got shook down yesterday. I had to go to the precinct for them. I heard from other bankers. They are having the same trouble. Cops—and Dutch Schultz. Yet Papa Charles is untouched. How is Papa Charles keeping his business safe?”
If Memphis told Seraphina the truth about his healing, he’d be betraying both Papa and Owney. There was no telling what they might do if they found out he’d shared their secrets. Memphis’s stomach tightened. “Papa doesn’t tell me everything. I’m just a runner.”
“So you say. But I hear the two of you make visits to the Cotton Club late at night—yes, I have eyes on the streets, too. If you’re just a runner,” she sneered, “then why is Papa Charles taking you to see Owney Madden? What is Owney doing for Papa?”
“He just needed someone to come along,” Memphis lied. “For protection.”
Madame Seraphina smirked. “Protection is why he has Yannick and Claude.”
Memphis tried the power of his charm. “That’s all there is to it,” he said, tossing off a shy smile. “That’s all I know.”
Seraphina leaned forward, eyes flashing. “Do. Not. Lie. To. Me. I did not come to this country and rise up from its streets to be dismissed in my own home!” She cupped Memphis’s chin in her silk-soft palm. “Cowards ignore women. Men listen. If you will not respect me, you can leave. But then you will never know what your manman confessed to me.”
Papa Charles had told Memphis about the honor among men. Memphis hadn’t really thought much about how that honor was built on the idea of keeping women out. On a belief that they should not be trusted. After Theta, Memphis felt that Papa had been right. But Seraphina wasn’t going to tell Memphis anything unless he was honest with her, and he needed to know the truth.
“Some of his runners got arrested,” Memphis said carefully. “And Papa pays his dues.” Everybody had to pay off the police if they wanted to run a business. That was common knowledge uptown. “But these cops are getting paid by Dutch Schultz.”
“Everybody knows that,” Seraphina said, dismissing Memphis’s comment with a wave of her hand. “What is Charles asking you to do for Owney behind closed doors?”
Memphis hated to think about what Papa Charles would do if he found out Memphis had been telling Seraphina his business. “He’s having me heal up Owney’s men when they get hurt. Owney’s still more powerful than Dutch. Papa says if we get Owney on our side, make an alliance, we can keep Dutch from taking over. That Owney will protect us.”
For just a moment, Seraphina was so still that Memphis could scarcely hear her breathing. And then a laugh tore out of her, loud and guttural and tommy gun–quick. She slapped her knee. “Oh, Charles, Charles. You old fool.”
“It’s worked so far.”
“So. Far,” Seraphina said, drying her eyes. “Papa Charles thinks if he makes nice, these ofay will accept him.” She shook her head.
“I’m sure Papa Charles will look out for us,” Memphis said, feeling defensive.
Seraphina snorted. “Papa hobnobs with radio stars and the mayor. He thinks they accept him as one of their own, just another businessman. He forgets that in this country, he is a black man first. They will never let him in, not all the way. Owney will ignore his promise. And when Dutch Schultz calls the shots, the white people will back him. What do they care as long as they can dance where they like?” Seraphina lowered her chin and leveled her gaze at Memphis. Her eyes were flecked with gold, like a tiger’s. “No one feared the rabbits until they took over the garden. The white gangsters have been occupied with bootlegging. But now they’re pushing into our numbers game. Bit by bit, they will take all we have built. And they will destroy the Harlem we love.”
The news unsettled Memphis. He didn’t like healing Owney’s men in the first place, and the idea that it might all be for naught made it worse. Still, he had to believe that Papa Charles knew what he was doing.
“I’ve told you what you wanted to know. Tell me about my mother like you promised.”
Seraphina leaned back against her chair again. “Your mother said she had taken bad medicine. She was afraid it had cursed you and your brother. Do you know this?”
Memphis nodded.
“She told me that because of the bad medicine, there were people who would come for you. She had wanted to protect you and your brother from those bad people. And that was when she made her mistake.”
“What mistake was that?”
“She called upon a bad spirit from the land of the dead. She made a bargain with the King of Crows.”
Memphis’s heartbeat quickened till he could hear the rhythm of his blood in his ears like drums. “What kind of bargain?”
“My turn,” said Seraphina. “Why do you do this healing?”
“Told you why. Papa said it would help us.”
“Papa said, Papa said. You do everything Papa tells you? You make any decisions for yourself?”
“I made the decision to come here,” Memphis sniped. “I want to hear about my mother.”
“Your mother knew she was dying,” Seraphina said after a pause. “And she feared she would not be here to watch over her boys. She was worried about threats here and from beyond—a coming storm. So she went to the graveyard barefoot, and that night, he appeared to her. He told her that he would make sure the bad men could not find you and your brother. He promised that she could watch over you from beyond. For a price.”
“What price?”
Seraphina sighed. “This, I don’t know. But I do know that crows are powerful. They are messengers of the dead. They can travel between worlds.”
“Between worlds…” he whispered. Something was fighting to take shape in Memphis’s mind. The room tilted sideways as it came to him. “Berenice?”
Seraphina made a face. “Who is Berenice?”
It was impossible. But the more Memphis thought about it, the more he realized that the bird that had been following him for months had been keeping watch like a guardian. Like a mother. Instinctively, he looked to the window. The crow was just outside, waiting. Memphis kept a grip on the chair; it felt as if he could float away so easily.
“Can the curse be undone?” Memphis asked.
“I only know so much. I don’t play with bad magic. And he is bad magic,” Seraphina said. “You want to know? Ask the ghosts.”
Memphis thought again of the thing in the graveyard. Of the spirits they’d annihilated over the past few nights. Guilt twinged in his chest.
“No,” Memphis said.
Seraphina pushed air through her teeth and pursed her lips in mild rebuke. “You afraid of spirits? They’re with us always.”