Mrs. Robinson grew serious and hesitated long enough to make me uncomfortable before speaking again. “You’re in a whole lot of trouble. I probably shouldn’t even have the likes of you around here, but this life for me is almost over, anyway. Your invisible—your sister, you say? She’s stuck underwater in the dark place because she’s worried about you.”

My blood was running cold. I had no idea what she meant by the dark place, but I didn’t like the sound of it, or of Jennie being there.

“Now, I can’t understand what she’s trying to communicate because that message is for you and not me. But you’ve got loa all around you, and she’s protecting you from them. You did something to upset them, and whatever it was…” She trailed off and closed her eyes, shaking her head as if whatever I’d done was too terrible to put into words.

Afraid, I asked, “What are loa?”

“They’re the spirits, ma chèrie. They bring us messages from the Bondye, but they need to be fed in order to stay strong enough to manage their business,” she explained.

I didn’t want to ask what the loa liked to be fed, or what kind of business they managed. I had a bad hunch where this conversation was headed. “What do they eat?”

Mrs. Robinson pressed her lips together as if trying to decide whether or not to answer me honestly. “They feed on life.”

Life. Of course. This conversation was getting to be too much for me. I couldn’t go down this road again. I had found a decent balance, with the protection spell, and I couldn’t risk that.

“Mrs. Robinson? My shift ended ten minutes ago, and I’m going to get in trouble with my boss,” I interrupted her as she went on about loa. The sun had completely set during the few minutes that had passed since I’d entered her suite, and I rose from my seat to turn on the overhead lights in the room. “We need to get your dinner order in, or you might have to actually go down to the cafeteria if you want to eat.”

She was adamant that she didn’t want to socialize that night, so I called down to the cafeteria and placed her order for a bowl of chicken soup and a side of mashed potatoes. I felt my phone buzz in the breast pocket of my shirt and didn’t have to check it to know that it was Rhonda, texting me to see if I was ready for her to pick me up. But despite everything, I couldn’t make myself step out of the room.

I knew—after everything I had already done and all of the warnings I’d been given by Judge Roberts—that the smart thing to do would have been to bid Mrs. Robinson a good night and leave—go back to Dad and Rhonda’s without giving Mrs. Robinson’s observations another thought.

But my scalp was still tingling as if I’d rubbed peppermint oil on it. Jennie wanted to communicate.