Fiends on the Other Side Page 4

  Dr. Facilier leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “All your life you’ve been pushed around, haven’t you?”

  Jamal flinched. Dr. Facilier was right. Even worse, he had to face Colton at school the next day. That meant…bad things were in store for him.

  Dr. Facilier reached into the pocket of his purple suit and produced a business card. He walked over and handed it to Jamal. It had a skull wearing a top hat on the front.

  DOCTOR FACILIER TAROT READINGS. CHARMS. POTIONS. DREAMS MADE REAL.

  As Jamal scanned the back of the card, his skull necklace flared brighter and hotter than ever, like it was warning him to run away. But still he lingered in the alley. He felt torn. The card was tempting. Maybe this strange man could actually help him.

  “‘Dreams made real’?” Jamal read, then looked up at the man. “What does that mean?”

  Dr. Facilier grinned and pointed toward a narrow purple door in the dark alley. A chill ran through Jamal again. Had the door been there the whole time? He didn’t remember seeing it before. It led into the shop with the creepy dolls. The one he had seen from the bus the day before. They had stared out from the front window. Their eyes had seemed to lock on to him, though that was impossible. They weren’t alive.

  They’re just dolls.

  Jamal shifted his gaze to the sign over the door. It was shaped like a top hat with a skull and crossbones, the same as Dr. Facilier’s hat. It read:

  DR. FACILIER’S VOODOO EMPORIUM

  Three skulls sat under the sign. Dr. Facilier tipped his cane at the skulls.

  Suddenly, they lit up with flames.

  Jamal’s eyes widened in fear. “H-how’d you do that?” he stammered.

  “Step inside my shop, little man,” Dr. Facilier said, “and I’ll show you.”

  “Follow me, little man.”

  Dr. Facilier thrust open the heavy door to his shop, which creaked on its hinges, and ushered Jamal inside. Jamal ducked quickly under the three skulls that still burned with flames.

  It’s probably just a trick, Jamal thought. Like the street performers in the French Quarter who did magic tricks to dazzle tourists into giving them bills and loose change. His father had warned him about them.

  “This way, my young friend,” Dr. Facilier said, leading him deeper into the shop. It took a moment for Jamal’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. Shadows cast by flickering candles curled and undulated. They almost looked alive.

  His gaze passed over glass bottles of colorful potions, shrunken heads, dusty books piled on shelves, and the handmade dolls. The air smelled musty and stale, yet sweet and alluring at the same time.

  The skull necklace around his neck throbbed with light. Run, run, run, it seemed to warn him. Everything about the shop felt strange and unnatural. It felt wrong. He wanted to run away as fast as his legs would carry him, but something stopped him. He clutched the business card tighter. Dreams made real. The promise echoed through his head. Dr. Facilier was right: he did need help.

  He took a deep breath to steady his racing heart. “What is this place?”

  “My humble business, of course,” Dr. Facilier said, gesturing around with his cane. “This is where I do my special work.”

  Jamal’s eyes darted to the dolls in the front window. Their faces were crude swatches of burlap fabric, and their eyes were mismatched buttons. Pins stuck out of their lumpy bodies. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. Their faces were turned toward him. When he’d entered the shop, they had been facing away, staring out the front window.

  How did that happen?

  Jamal remembered how they had seemed to be watching him when he was on the school bus. Between that and the skull necklace burning his chest and flashing urgently with light, he started to feel like he’d made a mistake.

  “Uh, I really should be going,” he said, backing toward the door. The dolls’ button eyes seemed to follow him, raising all the hairs on his arms. His heart thudded in his chest. “My parents will miss me if I don’t get home for dinner soon…. They’ll start to worry.”

  “But will your parents worry?” Dr. Facilier said with a sympathetic look. “They prefer your twin brother, don’t they? You’re invisible at home, too. You’re always in his shadow.”

  “No, that’s not true,” Jamal said. “They love us both…equally.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Dr. Facilier said. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of purple dust, which he blew into the air. It swirled around them and then slowly resolved into images.

  Jamal recognized them. They were scenes from his life. They materialized in the air around the shop and played out like scenes in a movie.

  His parents cheering for his brother at a basketball game. His parents watching Malik play trumpet at a jazz recital. His parents at the dinner table praising Malik, but ignoring Jamal. The family photos of his brother crowding the mantel, but almost none of Jamal.

  “Wait, how are you doing that?” Jamal said, backing farther away in fear. The images from his life kept playing anyway. A smile twisted Dr. Facilier’s face.

  “I told you I have special powers. My friends on the other side tell me secrets. Trust me, little man. I can help you.”

  Jamal wanted to run away. He wanted to listen to the skull necklace and its warning. But the images hypnotized him. It was true: his parents did prefer his twin brother.

  “You can change this?” Jamal asked. “But how?”

  Dr. Facilier gestured to a round table with a tablecloth, set on a pedestal and surrounded by red velvet-backed chairs. The whole setting was illuminated by a crystal chandelier. “Have a seat,” he said, tipping his cane toward it. “I can read your future. I may even be able to change it for you. The shadow man can make your every dream come true.”

  “You can really do all that?” Jamal asked. He chewed his lower lip. He knew he should leave, but something tempted him. He thought about the bullies waiting for him at school the next day, the bus driver deserting him on the curb, the teachers who never called on him even though he knew the answers, and his empty yearbook pages. “You can help me?”

  “Sit down and you’ll find out,” Dr. Facilier said, leading Jamal over to the table. They took a seat, and Facilier produced a deck of tarot cards. They looked old. He shuffled them with great skill, then fanned them out on the table.

  “Take three cards,” Dr. Facilier said. “Let’s see what your future holds.”

  Jamal reached for the deck and carefully selected his first card, then a second and third, laying them facedown on the table in front of him.

  With a flourish, Dr. Facilier flipped over the first card. It depicted two children, but one of them stood in front of the other. Dr. Facilier pointed to the card with his spindly finger.

  “This card represents your past,” he said. “Your brother was born first.”

  “He’s my twin,” Jamal said. “But you’re right. He was born five minutes earlier than me. And he never lets me forget about it.”

  Dr. Facilier nodded and flipped over the second card. It showed one boy holding a trophy over his head while another boy stood in his shadow.

  “This is your present situation,” Dr. Facilier said. “You’re always in your brother’s shadow. That’s why you feel invisible. That’s why nobody ever notices you. He’s the cause of your problems. But you could have this….”

  With that, he flipped over the third card. It showed the second boy holding a trophy, surrounded by adoring fans, while the first boy cowered in the shadows. The shadows weren’t just normal shadows, either—they looked like shadowy monsters. Their dark fingers reached for the cowering boy.

  “Is that what you want?” Dr. Facilier said, his eyes locking on Jamal.

  “You can do that for me?” Jamal asked, mesmerized by the card.

  Dr. Facilier blew more purple dust over Jamal. Suddenly, the scene from the third card came to life, offering Jamal everything he had ever wanted.

  Jamal getting called
on first when he raised his hand in science class. Jamal getting picked first for basketball teams in gym. The school bus door opening wide for him. His parents heaping praise on him for his stories at dinner. His pictures taking up the entire mantel.

  “Little man, don’t you want your dreams made real?” Dr. Facilier said. “Don’t you want to step out from your brother’s shadow and have this future?”

  Jamal did want it. He watched the images swirl around him in the purple dust. But then they faded away.

  “Wait, bring them back,” Jamal said, feeling a stab of longing. “I do want it…. I really do!”

  “Very good. All I require now is payment,” Dr. Facilier said. “This kind of spell isn’t free, you know. My friends on the other side don’t work for nothing.”

  Jamal frowned. “But I don’t have any money. I’m just a kid. I don’t even get an allowance.”

  “Oh, we’re not talking cash,” Dr. Facilier said. “Though that can be useful. It has to be something of great importance and value to the dreamer.”

  “Great value?” Jamal said. “But I don’t have anything valuable.”

  Dr. Facilier pointed to Jamal’s shirt, where a flare of reddish light could be seen through the fabric. “That skull necklace would suffice. From your grandmother.”

  Jamal reached for it protectively. It felt hot and kept flashing. “Wait, but I still don’t understand how you know about my grandmother. Or her necklace.”

  Dr. Facilier’s smile twisted. “That necklace. For this future.” He pointed to the third tarot card. “Don’t waste my time, little man. How I know doesn’t matter. Now hand it over.”

  He held out his hand, his thin fingers outstretched. Jamal swallowed hard. He knew it was wrong. His grandmother had left him the necklace for a reason, even if he didn’t fully understand it. His mother would be angry with him if he gave it away to a stranger.

  But his head felt foggy, like he’d just woken up from a deep sleep. The images from the tarot cards continued to swirl through his head, almost like he was in a trance. He felt envy surge in his heart again. The shadow man was right. He was sick of being stuck in his brother’s shadow. He wanted what the shadow man had shown him in the third tarot card. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his whole life.

  He took a deep breath, then pulled out the necklace and held it up. It looked even eerier than usual in the flickering candlelight. The skull’s eye sockets still glowed with reddish light. The air in the shop felt heavy, almost smoky. Jamal reached for the clasp to unfasten it, and the dolls in the window snapped their heads around. Their button eyes were fixed hungrily on the skull necklace.

  What am I doing here? Jamal thought in a panic. Suddenly, he could see clearly. His eyes darted around the shop.

  “I’m sorry…. I can’t do this,” Jamal said, jumping up from his chair and running for the door. His heart thumped faster. “I really have to get home.”

  He yanked the door open and dashed into the dark alley. The last thing he heard was Dr. Facilier’s voice echoing after him.

  He sounded angry.

  “You’ll regret this, little man!”

  “No, get off me!” Jamal screamed. But the creepy dolls chased him through the Voodoo Emporium. Their button eyes were fixed on the necklace around his neck. He bolted for the door, reaching out to grab the doorknob, but one of the dolls clung to his ankle, tripping him.

  He went down hard.

  Wham!

  “You can’t run from us!” the dolls shrieked. There were so many of them. “We’ll get that necklace back!”

  The dolls swarmed toward him, their button eyes glaring.

  “No, stay away!” Jamal screamed.

  One grabbed at his arm, another grabbed his leg, and another reached for his neck—and the skull necklace. The doll grasped the heavy chain, pulling it and strangling him.

  “No, please…let me go,” Jamal gasped. “I’ll give you anything.”

  Suddenly, a dark, skeletal shadow with a top hat stretched over Jamal, who was writhing on the floor.

  “That necklace belongs to me.” Dr. Facilier’s voice reverberated through the emporium. “You can’t escape from my friends on the other side—”

  Jamal woke with a start, struggling for breath. He blinked at the bright sunlight streaming through his window. He looked down. His sheets were damp with sweat and tangled around his arms and legs. The skull necklace was twisted around his neck, partially choking him.

  That explained it.

  “It was only a dream,” he whispered to himself. His throat felt raw, like something really had choked him. “It wasn’t real. Just a terrible nightmare.”

  But the details had been so vivid. The terrifying dolls chasing him through the shop and attacking him. The shadow stretching over him. Dr. Facilier’s voice. Even stranger, the dream didn’t fade like other dreams did when he awoke. It remained sharp in his mind.

  He sat up in bed, untwisting the damp sheets from his body. He glanced over at his brother’s bed to see if Malik had witnessed his night terror. But it was empty. He felt a rush of relief. That was a small miracle. The last thing he needed was to get teased by his brother on top of everything else.

  Jamal could hear the shower running in the bathroom across the hall. Malik must have already gotten up for school.

  He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Oh, no,” he whispered. He was running late.

  He jumped up and dove for the closet, where he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the door. His face looked haunted. Dark circles framed his eyes. His skin looked clammy. The skull necklace dangled from his neck on the heavy chain.

  The eye sockets on the skull were dark—it wasn’t glowing. In fact, it had stopped glowing the second he’d stepped outside of Dr. Facilier’s shop. Jamal frowned at it.

  “Why does he want you so badly?” he said to its reflection.

  Suddenly, the bedroom door flew open. “Why does who want what?”

  Jamal jerked around, his eyes falling on Malik, who was wrapped in a towel. His hair was still damp from the shower. He ran his hand through it, shaking off a spray of water.

  “Uh, nothing,” Jamal said, quickly pulling on a shirt and tucking the necklace underneath it so it was hidden from view. It was moments like that when he missed having his own room at their old house, before the hurricane flooded it.

  “Okay, weirdo,” Malik said with a roll of his eyes. He paraded to the closet. “But don’t make me late for school. It’s a big day, remember?”

  Jamal frowned at his brother while he grabbed more clothes. “Big day?”

  “What, are you living under a rock or something?” Malik said, shaking his head. He pulled on a T-shirt. “The election results?”

  “Oh, right,” Jamal said. The week before, their class had voted for the next year’s class officers. His brother had run for president, of course. Homemade posters featuring Malik’s grinning face had been plastered along every school hallway for the past month.

  Jamal didn’t bother running, not even for something less important, like class secretary or treasurer. Nobody at school knew he existed, let alone would be willing to vote for him in an election.

  “I’m sure you’ll win,” Jamal added, trying to force himself to sound happy for his brother. But it came out sounding sullen.

  Oblivious, Malik cracked a cocky grin and pointed at his own reflection, like a politician. Both brothers stared into the mirror. Their reflections were side by side. They looked the same—they were identical twins, after all. Except Jamal looked glum, while Malik beamed.

  “Yup,” he agreed. “And then you’ll have to call me Mr. President.”

  * * *

  “The election results are in,” Mrs. Perkins said, clutching them in her hand. She stared at the class through her huge glasses. “Please congratulate your new class president…Malik!”

  Jamal sank down in his desk while all the other kids broke into thunderous applause.
Malik stood up and launched into a victory speech, where he promised better snack machines in the cafeteria and more pizza pep rallies before basketball games.

  Jamal knew he should be thrilled for his brother. Malik loved him and always supported him, even saving him from Colton and the gym class bullies. But all he felt was jealousy eating away at his heart. Combined with the guilt, it was even worse.

  After announcing the other officers, Mrs. Perkins flicked off the lights and projected their lesson, casting the classroom into darkness. Jamal squinted in the dim light. Her shadow fell across the class…and then, suddenly, it moved.

  The arms transformed into spindly, ghostly claws.

  They reached for Jamal’s neck…and the necklace.

  “No, don’t hurt me!” Jamal shrieked, leaping up and jumping back from the shadow. Under his shirt, the necklace flared with reddish light and singed his chest.

  Everyone in class turned to stare at him.

  “Look, he’s scared of his own shadow!” Colton cracked.

  The whole class broke into jeering laughter. A spitball smacked Jamal square in the forehead. It stuck, then slid wetly down his cheek.

  Mrs. Perkins flicked on the lights, causing the shadow to vanish.

  “Jamal…is everything okay?” she asked. Her forehead crinkled in concern.

  “Uh, yeah…sorry,” he muttered, sliding back behind his desk.

  When the bell rang, Jamal darted into the hall, slipping by his brother. The fan club clamored around Malik, congratulating him on his victory. Jamal knew he should join them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Especially not after what had happened in class. Instead, he shrank into the shadows creeping down the hallway. But then it happened again: the shadows moved.

  They transformed into spectral shapes, reaching for his neck.

  Even his own shadow turned on him.

  Sharp teeth.

  Spindly arms.

  Jagged claws.

  The skull necklace under his shirt was glowing again. Jamal bolted down the hall, away from the monstrous shadows. But they chased after him, stretching down the hall with dark claws. They clung to the crevices and cracks in the corners, where the light didn’t reach fully.