ELLA

I am about to send someone to the ER.

I gasp, wiping my face and squeezing oil out of my hair while waiting for an explanation before I throw a slap to that old face and knock the damn red-rimmed glasses off.

But her lips break into a pleasing smile, and she pulls me closer, trapping me in a bear hug. “May the spirit of the Lord be with you,” she says, grinning widely. “You are blessed, child. Demons would screech and burn in the presence of that oil. So good to know that you are ...