Chapter 9: Miami Nights, Miami Fears

Four hours later, we touch down in iconic Miami Beach.

It’s my first time out of state, and at first it feels like any other city. But once we hit downtown, it’s a sensory overload—streets alive with neon, people in swimsuits and designer shades, palm trees everywhere, and the air thick with the smell of fried plantains and Cuban coffee. The city pulses with music—reggaeton, salsa, EDM—mixing with the chatter in English, Spanish, and Creole. It’s like stepping into a different world.

A catchy pop song thumps through the air, and my nerves start to melt. We drop our bags at the hotel, then Savannah leads me to a dive bar to meet her local contact.

Big Joe runs the joint—a Miami native with a gold chain and a booming laugh. Savannah called him two days ago, and he’s been asking around about Mariah ever since.

But Big Joe just shakes his head. “I asked everyone, but this stuff’s old school. Corpse brides are high-end—only for the real bosses. No one’s talking.”

He pours me a Jack and Coke, ice clinking. “This town eats outsiders for breakfast. You want answers, you play by the rules.”

“No,” Savannah says, her voice hard. “Death’s not the end.”

Big Joe studies her, then shrugs. “I get it, but don’t think magic fixes everything.”

I nod. Sorcery here is like a turf war—every street’s got its own flavor, and every spellcaster guards their patch. If I start throwing spells around, the local crews will notice—and probably come after me.

Out-of-towners can’t muscle in; even spirits have their own gangs. Savannah’s snake spirit got nabbed for crossing a line—breaking the code.

Savannah sighs. “We can’t trust the cops, and we can’t use magic recklessly—so what’s left?”

I think, then blurt out, “What if I pose as a customer?”

Savannah and Big Joe look at me like I’m crazy.

I explain, “I’ll say I’m here to buy a ghost bride—supposed to bring luck. If I see Mariah, I’ll snatch her.”

Big Joe’s skeptical. “How you gonna pull that off solo?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a distraction spell—makes a fake double, so I can sneak the real one out.”

Savannah still looks worried.

I add, “It’s a family trick. If you want, I’ll show you right now.”

She waves me off. “That’s not the problem. I just… you don’t exactly look like the clientele.”

Big Joe claps my shoulder. “That’s easy—give me two days and you’ll fit right in!”

Before I can protest, Big Joe drags me to a table full of party girls. The music pounds, and suddenly I’m surrounded. Savannah leans in, yelling, “Just blend in—but watch out, not all the beauties here are women!”

The neon flashes, laughter spills over the tables, and for a moment, the ghosts and curses feel far away—just another secret in the Miami night.