Zack put his feet on the other chair, kicked back to reminisce. “You know, I had a friend who said his uncle conjoined with a soucouyant–”
  “Conjoined a who?”
  “Soucouyant, you know. An evil spirit, but hot. Seriously, you never heard of that?”
  Michael shook his head.
  “Like a vampire, but doesn’t drink blood. It goes after guys, sucks up their life energy with wild sex till they die.”
  “A succubus?”
  “Hell if I know.” He relit the joint. “So anyway... Oh, man, you made me lose my train of thought.”

  Rose, sunburned and in a stained T-shirt and raggedy shorts, looked up to the gallery. When she saw Laura– a vision in a loose sky-blue sundress– she automatically took on the ugly duckling role. They eyed each other. A territorial dare Rose lost.
  Michael hopped on the back of her motorcycle, waved goodbye to Laura as they drove away.
  “Who’s that?”
  “Laura, my new stepmother. Can you believe that?”
  “Humph. Not much older than us. Gorgeous too. Is she nice?”
  “Just met her yesterday. Seems nice enough. Quiet, kinda conservative, though.”

  Carved countless years ago into the bark, the symbol began to ooze. It dripped sap into the murky water, and onto the translucent ovoid below. Hidden and protected by labyrinthian tree roots, the ovoid swelled as it absorbed the vital fluid.
  The dark shape within stirred. Sensed movement as cottonmouths slithered in the secret burrow, black ribbons weaving through gold coins lying at the bottom of the nest.
  It was time.
  She opened her eyes.