Cursed: Decorah Security Book #21

by Rebecca York

  That concept rattled around in the back of her head. The priestess wanted her to flee this place. Leaving in the morning would hand her a victory.

  Morgan had little time to examine that logic as she zeroed in on the dark shadow under the trees.

  Yvonne Sonnier had stopped chanting. She stood silent and still, facing the enemy squarely. Morgan had never seen her up close. She was a small woman with long, dark hair and sharp features, dressed in a simple dark shift.

  “You frightened me when I came to town,” she said, hearing her voice ring out in the night. “Then you did things to my mind—where the road flooded and at the cemetery. But I’ve faced enemies a lot stronger than you. And I’ve finally got my head screwed on straight—at least where you’re concerned. You can’t hurt me anymore.”

  The words were brave. She hoped they were true as she marched across the lawn, not even sure what would happen.

  “Go back inside,” the priestess shouted at her. “Go back before you get hurt.”

  “Make me,” Morgan challenged

  Yvonne began to chant again.

  And Morgan felt her vision suddenly blur and her breath solidify in her lungs. All at once, it was hard to see—hard to breathe. Fear beat against her, but she kept going, determined to fight this woman on her own terms.

  She knew she had made headway when the chanting stopped abruptly and the pressure on her lungs eased.

  Maybe the deciding factor was that her anger was stronger than her fear.

  “Leave Andre Gascon alone,” she shouted.

  “He’s evil.”

  “Of course not. His grandfather loved Linette and she loved him. Tragedy separated them. But that has nothing to do with the man who lives here now.”

  “She died because of his ancestor.”

  “No. She died because she wanted a life with him. He didn’t coerce her.”

  “Go away from here, or I’ll hurt you.”

  “Why—because you know Linette spoke to me?”

  The woman gasped. “No. You’re lying.”

  “She pulled me into the past. She made me feel her joy with Andre. And her pain when she lost her life.”

  “No!”

  “I was with her when the flood took her. I think she wants me here. She wants me to set things right—finally. Your grandmother may have cursed Andre’s grandfather. But it’s time for the hate to end. It’s time for love to take over,” she said, not even sure what she meant.

  The woman looked stunned as Morgan kept advancing. She had no idea what would happen now. Were they going to get into some kind of fight?

  It wasn’t a human voice that spoke next. From out of the darkness, a roar split the night, and the jaguar leaped forward. Morgan gasped in shock. She’d been so focused on the priestess that she’d forgotten all about the animal that prowled the bayou.

  The jaguar gave her a long look, then with a roar in its throat, it turned away and charged Yvonne. But it staggered, choking, as it toppled onto the ground.

  The animal picked itself up, swaying on unsteady legs before starting forward again. It took only a couple of steps before it staggered, then fell to the ground, gasping.

  Finally, it caught its breath, growling in anguish and frustration.

  But Morgan wasn’t affected by whatever spell Yvonne had worked. Grimly, she pelted forward.

  The woman shrieked. And suddenly a knife was in her hand. “Leave me alone!”

  “What, you don’t trust your magic to kill me?” Morgan shouted, lashing out with her foot.

  Yvonne jumped back, then slashed with the knife. This time Morgan landed a kick on the hand with the weapon. The blade slid along her shoe, then dropped to the ground.

  Too angry to think straight, Morgan picked it up and threw it in the direction of the house. With a cry that contained as much fear as anger, the woman turned and ran—into the darkness. Into the night. Morgan picked up the drum and hurled the instrument after her, seeing it hit her back with a satisfying thwack.

  She might have given chase, but a deep growl from the jaguar made her whirl around.

  She and the animal stood confronting each other for the fourth time. The first had been on the road when the men had attacked her. Then the animal had been outside the house. Yesterday, he had rescued her from Dwight Rivers. Now he was back—when she’d been in trouble again. Only some major spell had kept him from attacking Yvonne.

  She should be afraid of him. He was large and strong, with dangerous claws and teeth. Yet she stood her ground, looking into the fierce yellow eyes.

  “Well, here you are, coming to my rescue again. I didn’t thank you for the last time,” she said. “I mean when Dwight Rivers attacked me.”

  She didn’t expect the animal to speak or even acknowledge the thanks. But he moved his large head in a motion that looked like a nod. She felt as though she were on the verge of an important discovery—and at the same time as though the world were teetering under her feet.

  Before anything more could happen, the cat took a step toward the safety of the bayou, then another.

  “Wait!” she called out, as she had called out to Andre a few hours earlier. But the beast ignored her as surely as the man had done. And she was left standing alone in the garden—with the first hint of dawn teasing the edge of the eastern sky.

  Her heart was racing. She wanted to scream in frustration. Every time she felt like she was on the edge of finding out what was really happening here—somebody changed the rules.

  As she stood clenching and unclenching her fists, a rustling in the underbrush made her stiffen.

  Was the cat coming back?

  No. It was a man, she saw. Andre, barefoot, wearing the shirt and jeans he’d had on the night before.

  He stopped a few feet from her, his expression sad and uncertain—but determined.

  “What are you hiding this time?” she asked.

  “I’m done with hiding anything,” he said in a weary voice.

  “Is that your trained jaguar?” she tossed at him. “Did you turn down an oil deal so your cat would have space to roam the bayou?”

  He gave a mirthless laugh. “I wish it were that simple.” He swallowed convulsively. “I told you I was cursed. I told you I have to go out into the bayou every night. I told you I have to drink an extract from that plant to keep myself alive. But there’s more to the curse.” He looked like a man jumping off a cliff when he said, “The curse turns me into a jaguar every night. That cat isn’t my trained pet. I’m the cat.”

  “No,” she answered automatically.

  “Yeah, it’s hard to believe,” he conceded. “Yvonne’s grandmother cursed my grandfather—the man who let Linette get swept away in the flood. That’s what she did to him. Her family was powerful. And the people who settled this area believed in voodoo magic. They figured something strange was going on out here. Still, he was a rich man, and grandmother was willing to marry him for his money, but she didn’t stay long after my father was born.”

  Morgan opened her mouth, but he waved his hand in front of her face. “Let me finish while I have the guts to tell you all of it. The curse fell on my father. He had to stay here and drink the plant extract, but he didn’t get the jaguar part. I hoped and prayed that portion of the curse was lifted. But I guess it only skips a generation. When I turned eighteen, I found out I was back where the original Andre Gascon had started.”

  She fought to catch her breath. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I’m sure you don’t want to.”

  “But you said the . . . the cat part is at night,” she challenged. “I saw the cat during the day—twice.”

  His face softened. “Yes. When the need is great, I can change during the day. I rescued Janet from a bear in the backcountry once. And it was me out on the road after those men made you end up in that ditch. I know you had a gun—and you pointed it at the jaguar. That was the first time. The second time was when Dwight Rivers attacked you. The cat leaped over to the
island and got him off you. Then Jarvis was coming, and you told the cat to go.” He dragged in a breath and huffed it out. “I notice you didn’t tell the sheriff anything about the jaguar. Why not? Because you suspected something strange, but you couldn’t put it into words?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “Well, now you know what I’ve been hiding from you,” he said in a barely audible voice. “And you can understand why I didn’t want to tell you.”

  He had given her reasons to believe him. Although she fought the truth of what he’d said, she still had one more question. “Is there some way to lift the curse?”

  “There’s supposed to be,” he answered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Unable to draw a full breath, Andre kept his gaze fixed on Morgan as he waited for the logical next question.

  “Tell me how,” she said.

  His mouth was so dry that he had to moisten his lips before he could speak. “The priestess said that the spell would be broken if a woman who knew the full extent of the curse came willingly to Andre and gave him her love.”

  He saw her features contort.

  “I knew that was too much to ask of any woman,” he said. “I thought I would live out my life alone here. Then the murders started, and I knew someone was trying to make me leave. I knew I needed help, so I started checking out detective agencies—and rejecting them—until I saw your name on the Decorah Web site, and I knew . . .” He stopped and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I knew there was something about you that made it seem right. But now I realize I was just fooling myself.” He wanted to turn and escape from her. But there was more he had to say before she left. “But thank you for saving me from Dwight Rivers’ nasty little plan. You did a fantastic job of detective work. I’ll mail your check to your agency.”

  It was finished. Whatever had sprouted between them as they’d typed messages back and forth between Beltsville and Belle Vista had died before the roots could take hold. Defeated, he felt his shoulders slump. Before he could make the confrontation any worse—for either of them, he turned and walked away, into the backcountry that he knew so well because he had roamed these acres every night for the past twelve years.

  He stared at the graceful branches of a tupelo tree as he walked away, feeling dead inside. He’d bet everything on one roll of the dice and lost.

  ###

  Morgan watched him leave her, feeling as though a vise were tightening around her heart. He had told her things she couldn’t possibly believe. Terrible things.

  But she had no other alternative than to believe—not after everything that had happened since she’d arrived at Belle Vista. She knew she should run in the other direction. Back to Decorah where she would be safe. And then a thought leaped into her mind, a thought that should not have evaded her. How was this different from the men who worked for Frank Decorah, the men who could turn into wolves? No, they weren’t cursed, but they carried the same heavy burden as Andre. They were different from other men, but they had found a way to live in a world that would reject them if it knew their secret.

  Yet many of them were married. They had found wives who were willing to accept them for what they were.

  Knowing them should have helped her believe what she’d seen with her own eyes when she’d seen the jaguar. But her logical mind had made her fight the only explanation that made sense.

  And suddenly she understood that on some deep instinctive level running away would be the worst mistake of her existence. For the past two years, she had felt as though her life were a hollow shell.

  Now she had power to make it much worse.

  “No,” she whispered.

  As Andre walked past a stand of graceful blue water iris, she found herself running after him.

  Reaching him, she grabbed at a broad shoulder. He went rigid, then whirled to face her.

  “Don’t walk away from me again,” she whispered.

  “You want me to stay—after what I just told you? Why? Are you caught in Linette’s dream?”

  “No,” she answered, but she knew she sounded uncertain.

  “Are you feeling her emotions, is that it?”

  “Partly. And mine, too.” She swallowed, then fought to make sense to herself—to him. “Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked.

  “I . . . don’t know.”

  “You said you dreamed of Andre. Dreams where you were him. Where you knew facts that only he could know.”

  He nodded.

  “And Linette came to me—with a kind of reality that was frightening and confusing.” Morgan squeezed her eyes closed, then opened them again. “Linette taught me things I didn’t know. I loved my husband. I clung to his memory because it was all I had. But there were elements missing from my marriage, gaps I didn’t want to admit. We formed a bond because we were in the same profession—the spy profession—and we could share experiences that we couldn’t talk about with anyone else. But that was really all we had. When he died, I was left with nothing. I mean, we hadn’t made much of a life. We could have settled down, had children. But we didn’t do that.”

  She felt as though she’d made a terrible confession and at the same time as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

  Reaching for Andre, she pulled him toward her and held on tight. His arms came up to embrace her, but she knew he was still afraid to believe they could break the curse together.

  She pressed her face to his chest, then tipped her head up so she could meet his gaze. “Don’t turn away from me—from us. And don’t turn away from the chance to right the wrongs of the past,” she whispered, then held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  His gaze burned into hers. “You have to be sure. For yourself.”

  “My feelings are as real as Linette’s. What about you?”

  “I knew from the minute I found you at Decorah that I had to ask you here.”

  “Then stop fighting—us.”

  “You don’t know me well enough . . . to . . .”

  “I think I do. I came down to Louisiana because we had already formed a strong relationship. Then you did your best to push me away. Now I understand why. You were afraid of what would happen to me if I stayed. And you’re still fighting . . . us. Now do us both a favor and stop it.”

  When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his hand and held on. She felt a shudder go through him. Then he began walking, leading her farther into the bayou, to a place where the ground was covered with soft moss and the light was filtered by tree branches.

  He brought her under the shelter of a tree. When he turned to face her, his expression was grave. “We can settle things here. Or—you’re free to leave,” he said.

  “Why are you still trying to push me away?”

  “I’m giving you time to think rationally,” he said in a gritty voice.

  “Well, I’ve always been better at action than thinking.”

  Her hands weren’t quite steady as she reached for the hem of her knit top, pulled it over her head and tossed it on the ground. Then she kicked off her shoes before reaching for the waistband of her sweatpants and slicking them down her legs.

  Wearing only her bra and panties, she smiled as she took in the stunned expression on his face. Because she was enjoying herself now, she reached around behind her back and unhooked the bra.

  She felt her breath catch as his gaze swept over her. He finally spoke, and she thought everything would be all right. “You are so beautiful, standing there with the sunlight and shadow on you,” he breathed.

  She smiled at him—in triumph and in joy. “We could use some more clothing on the moss—to make a nice bed.”

  Still looking like he didn’t entirely believe they were here together, he pulled off his tee shirt, then his jeans, tossing them to join her clothing. But then he seemed incapable of moving. Or maybe he was simply incapable of believing that she hadn’t run away from him—after he had told her the worst.

  She slicked her panties d
own her legs, then walked toward him and grasped the elastic band at the top of his briefs, pulling them off, too. Her touch seemed to release him from a spell.

  With an urgent sound deep in his throat, he gathered her to him, his mouth coming down on hers for another hungry kiss.

  They swayed together, touching, kissing, sighing, neither of them steady on their feet.

  “Maybe we’d better get horizontal,” she said against his mouth.

  “You mean before we topple over?”

  “Yes.”

  They lowered themselves to the makeshift bed, and he rolled to his back, bringing her down on top of himself, his hands taking long strokes along her back.

  “Lord, I can’t believe this,” he whispered.

  “I know. But it’s real,” she said, adjusting herself so that his erection was nestled in the space at the top of her legs.

  He cradled her against his body, then rolled them to the side so that his hands could find her breasts, shaping them to his touch, and she responded with a long sigh of pleasure. Bending, he drew one nipple into his mouth, before lavishing his attention on the other.

  When he looked up, his features were taut as he winnowed his hand through the back of her hair.

  “Do you feel the magic?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, realizing that it was true. They were caught in a bubble of golden light, the only two people in a magic world.

  Tender, possessive feelings welled inside her. Not just from herself—from Linette.

  “Do you feel them?” she asked.

  “Andre and Linette?” he asked.

  “You do!”

  “Yes.”

  “Why weren’t they with us before—in the bedroom?”

  “Because they were waiting for me to accept you—all of you,” she whispered, knowing it was the truth.

  She expected him to look relieved. Instead, his features clouded. “You’re sure this isn’t just for them?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. This is for us. But they want to be here, too,” she answered. “They want to share in what we’ve found together. Don’t ask me how I know all that. I just do.”