"It's not that bad." She carefully placed the broken pottery triangle inside the cup, then took it from his hand and put it beside the plate. After that, she went to the refrigerator for cleaning tools—a broom, mop, and dustpan—that were stored in a space between it and the wall, thinking that Zach looked hurt by her rejection of his solace.
"Amazing," she exclaimed. "A refrigerator, an electric stove. To think Mama used to cook all our meals in that fireplace."
Zach didn't say a word.
She got busy sweeping the floor. The jars clanked, and she shoved them aside with her foot. "When Papa bought the butane stove she almost fainted with joy, but she said she still cooked her jambalaya and etouffee in the iron kettle over the open fire because they tasted better that way."
She chattered nervously to fill Zach's silence. "But I guess progress caught up with the Deverauxs, even way out here in the bayous. Can't stop it, can you? Sometimes I wish—"
Just then she heard a noise. Turning, she saw Maddie Catalon bending over inside the frame of the back door. As soon as Liz caught sight of her, Maddie straightened abruptly, one hand behind her skirt.
"Le fantome noir done this," she said, surveying the vandalized room.
"How long have you been there?" Liz demanded.
"Ankouer come around midnight and take the opal." Maddie leaned against the door jamb, one arm beneath her small breasts, emphasizing the angles of her collar bones. She wore another sleeveless, scoop-necked dress, ankle-length and of a wispy fabric. A necklace of bone and teeth was tied around her neck, and a bright red scarf held back her hair. "Frank got in his boat early and go after it.
Liz made a disdainful noise, then briskly resumed sweeping. "Papa's not here, Maddie, and you and I are hardly best of friends, so if you don't mind . . ."
" 'Hardly best of friends,' " Maddie repeated, her usually husky voice precisely mimicking Liz's. "Who'da thought Frank and Ellie's wild swamp girl would turn into such a prissy miss?"
"What do you want?" Liz really didn't care if she got an answer. "Hand me that dustpan, will you, Zach?"
Instead of giving it over, he bent and held it in front of the pile of debris while he regarded her and Maddie. As Liz swept the shards into the pan, she wondered what he found so fascinating. She also wondered what Maddie wanted. After all—
"Didn't Papa spend the night at your place?" she asked sharply.
Maddie's smile held triumph. "All you need to know, girl, is he gone to Quadray Island."
"Quadray Island?" Zach stood up so quickly he spilled glass onto the floor. He grabbed a cigarette from his pocket, and as Liz was about to suggest he take his smoke outside, she noticed he looked kind of shaky.
"What's the deal?" she asked. "Quadray Island's a myth."
"Yeah, right, you're right." He lit up the cigarette, took a puff and began pacing the small room, repeatedly crossing between Liz and Maddie as he spoke. "But the area where it's reputed to be is full of unpredictable eddies. Tornadoes touch down, even when they miss every place else, and it's ru- mored the water is poison." He stopped in front of Maddie. "Nobody goes that way. Why the hell would Frank head out there?"
"I already told you. To find Ankouer and get the opal back for Izzy." Maddie glided to stand in front of Liz. "You gotta go after him. His life, it depend on you."
"For God's sake, Maddie!" Zach barked. "Cut out this crap!"
"T'weren't Catalons who bring Ankouer to the bayous. Deverauxs brung this curse. Now Izzy is the only one left and she don't know jack about using that opal or nothing."
"I don't need to know about ridiculous superstitions, and I sure don't plan to go out and fight one," Liz replied indifferently. "I'll leave that to you."
"If it could be, I would do it. Only a Deveraux woman can tame le fantome. You been running and running, Izzy, but now your duty come a'calling."
"What do you have behind your back?" Zack asked suddenly.
Maddie jerked her head to stared at him. "Nothin'. Ain't nothing. Just some papers I've been needing."
"From here?" Liz looked at Maddie suspiciously. Who could tell what was going on in that woman's head, but her movements revealed a certain secretiveness. "Did you get that from here? Let me see it."
She darted a hand around Maddie's side. Before the woman could react, Liz had snatched the item from her hand. It was an envelope, and she saw her own name written in dark black ink across the front.
"This is for me," she said. "This is Mama's handwriting."
"It tell everything about Ankouer, and Ellie knowed you'd never take it, that's why she give it to me," Maddie said. "Now let me have it back. It don't belong to you anymore. You don't deserve it."
Furious, and wanting absolutely nothing to do with anything that pertained to Ankouer, Liz let the broom clatter to the floor and stormed out of the kitchen toward and through the front door. Then swinging back her arm, she prepared to hurl the package into the water.
"Don't!" Maddie commanded.
It wasn't the power of Maddie's order that stopped Liz. It was the uncharacteristic tremor of terror in her voice. She pivoted slowly to face the woman, noticing an odd flicker to her eyes and a softening of her features as she started to speak.
"You go into great danger, Izzy. Le fantome noir come from the deep, dark, swirling chaos. Chaos he is and chaos he always be." This wasn't Maddie. The voice was soft and sweet and so achingly familiar. "You have power. You must seek it now, claim it!"
Transfixed, Liz reached out her empty handv."Mama?"
"Turn your back on it and you are doomed. . . . Le fantome noir will prevail. His evil will seep into the world. . . . Darkness will be the end. It is up to you, Izzy. You are the last Guardian."
"That's enough, Maddie!" Zach snarled.
His heated order cut through Liz's trance. She jerked backed, startled beyond belief to see her fingers caressing Maddie's face. Her other hand still clutched the envelope.
"This is just too much, Maddie," Liz said wearily. "Would you please go home?"
"Okay, okay. Only don't be throwing the package away, okay?"
Liz unclasped the envelope's metal prongs and lifted the flap. Slipping her fingers inside, she pulled out a small journal. Shaken by the fleeting instant when she'd thought she'd been listening to her mother, she brought the book to her breasts, breathing deep, hoping to smell her mama's scent, feel the hand that had once crossed the pages inside to record her thoughts.
"I'll keep it then," she said stiffly. "Now please leave."
"Okay," Maddie said. "But take heed, you. Your papa's in trouble, and you need to go to Quadray Island and help him."
"Quadray Island is a fantasy, and I'm not going anywhere." Still holding the book close, she started for the door.
"Oh, you will go. Duty call you very loud. You cannot cover your ears."
With that, Maddie slid around the corner of the house in much the same manner as the snake that had dropped from the dock.
"What was that all about?" Zach asked from the door. He phrased the question in a way that made it sound as if he didn't really care. But his shaken reaction in the kitchen hinted to Liz that he did. And very much.
"You tell me. You heard most of it."
"It was weird, that's what it was. Did you really think Maddie was your mother?"
Liz stared at him a second, then walked back in the house without answering. Weird? Oh, yes. But so sweet in the moment. So, so sweet, to touch her mother's face once more.
Zach caught up with her.
"You don't want to talk about it?"
"No. No, I don't."
He regarded her uneasily. Turning away to avoid any additional pressure from him, she carefully replaced her mother's journal in the envelope, put the package on the sideboard, and picked up the broom.
"You don't have to stay, Zach. I can manage."
He gave her another one of those piercing stares, with eyes as blue as the sky, then picked up a pail and went to the sink to fill it. "I'm st
aying until your father comes back," he said. "I still owe him an apology."
Later, as Zach dumped another load of broken pottery into a trash bag, he said, "Tell you what. I'll tie that tin can you came in behind my boat and we can ride back together."
Instead of replying, Liz said, "Have you seen the opal?"
"Maddie said it was— No, I haven't seen it."
"Maddie's crazy." She pointed to the center of the top shelf behind the shattered glass of the display case that topped the sideboard. "Mama always kept it there, for good luck she said, so it has to be around. Help me look, will you?"
She crouched down to search, and Zach joined her. The floor was fairly well cleared, making it easy to find a missing object if it was there. They checked between the stove and the cupboards, behind the sideboard, and even the fireplace.
"Opals are so fragile." Liz poked cautiously through the ashes. "What if we stepped on it? Or dumped it with the other trash?"
Holding back a sigh, Zach grabbed a fresh bag and began methodically emptying the original one, grumbling, "Tarantulas and opals for good luck. Most people think opals are cursed, and, hell, tarantulas are poisonous."
"Not to people," Liz replied, still peeking into corners and under cupboards. "Well, maybe some South American varieties, but not that one." She gestured toward the jar on the sideboard, and Zach felt an invisible something creep up his spine. "Besides, neither animals or objects have anything to do with luck—oh, what's this?"
"You find it?"
"Not the opal. Papa's nitroglycerin." She looked up, worry in her eyes. "Oh, Zach, he's out in that swamp without his medicine ."
Chapter Five
Liz threw herself into cleaning the last of the mess in the kitchen while she worked out the problem. Maybe her father would return soon, but somehow she doubted it. After about fifteen minutes of wiping down the same surfaces, she decided to make some calls to town. She had no faith in Maddie's truthfulness, which made the woman's sly evasiveness about her father's whereabouts the night before a strong case for believing he'd actually been there. But he may have returned to Port Chatre to belatedly fulfill his promise to Liz.
Making ample use of the information service to get the numbers, she phoned every place she thought her father might go when he realized Liz wan't at home. No results. She snapped the phone shut and shoved it back in her handbag, ignoring the worried glance from Zach that mirrored her own concerns.
Where was Papa? Out in the bayou seeking the stolen opal as Maddie proclaimed? The possibility sent a shiver down Liz's spine. He'd been acting unbalanced ever since she'd arrived at the Port. If he was really in search of an island everyone knew didn't exist, that added fuel to her wildest misgivings. What if he was in the grips of insanity? She'd have to do something about it—make sure he stayed safe, get him treatment.
The inner turmoil surrounding this possibility evoked a wave of self-disgust. Her father should be her only concern, but instead she was filled with anxiety over having to explain him to her friends and associates. Was she ashamed of him, as he'd asserted?
The explanation felt all wrong. Her quivering stomach and clutching heart weren't signs of embarrassment. They signaled downright fear, a deep, inexplicable dread that seemed to come from nowhere.
"Maybe he'll realize he forgot his pills and come back for them," Zach said, breaking the long silence between them.
Liz shook her head. "He probably won't even miss them unless he has an angina attack. By then it will be too late."
"I could make a few calls, have a search and rescue team sent out."
Liz considered the offer briefly, then again shook her head. "Papa would never forgive me. You know how swamp Cajuns feel about the authorities."
"But if . . ." As his voice trailed off, he nodded with clearly reluctant agreement. "Besides, your pa might not even have an attack."
"My point." She still felt as confused as ever. "Let me think some more, okay?"
Liz appreciated the way Zach didn't argue. Instead, he busied himself with putting the remaining jars back in the sideboard. Liz returned to wiping down the already clean counters, and even as she scoured a nonexistent spot, she knew what she had to do. Jitters in her stomach, flutters around her heart, neither of these would stop her from doing what was right. Her father came first, and she'd be damned if she'd let some nebulous terror keep her from looking out for his welfare.
She dropped the washrag in her hand, took a deep breath to calm her fear, then turned toward Zach.
"I'm going after him," she announced.
"Do what?" Zach shot back.
"Papa has to have his pills." Which was a good enough reason. Zach had no need to know of her concerns about her fathees mental health.
He touched one of her arms, which she dimly realized she'd rigidly wrapped around her body.
"You haven't been in the swamp in years, cher. Do you even remember how to navigate?"
"How far could he have gotten?" She walked to a cupboard and opened the door, checking for nonperishable food. "We'll be back by nightfall. Morning at the latest."
"Depends on how powerful his boat is."
"It's just a fishing boat with a small motor."
"But I'll bet it's faster than the one you rented from Richard."
"I'm not taking that one!" She put a couple of cans on the floor, then added some packets of dried soups. "I'm taking the tour boat."
"The tour boat? You won't last more than a couple of hours before you run up on some cypress knees."
"I'm going, Zach, that's all there is to it." Liz had the oddest sense that the decision was out of her hands, and if she had to go, she'd just as soon get on with it. "If you're going to keep trying to talk me out of it, I'd rather you leave. But if you want to help, why don't you check the provisions on the boat. I'll need water, some crates for the food. . . ."
She ticked off the fingers of one hand as she spoke. All her uncertainty had vanished, and as their eyes locked she grinned. In that instant, Zach had her pegged. She'd become one of those people who were never truly comfortable unless they had a plan. A valuable trait for a business person, but not so valuable for someone about to embark in the swamps with rusty boating skills.
"Okay, cher, I'll help." But letting Liz head into one of the most treacherous areas of the bayou alone went against his grain. An uncomfortable sensation wiggled inside him, a sure sign he might regret his next words. "I'm coming with you."
Liz rearranged the storage bins beneath the rows of bench seats. Plenty of gas, plenty of water, plenty of food. Matches, charcoal, even a small outdoor table grill. Because her father often took out hunting groups for trips that lasted several days, many of the provisions had already been on the boat, and Zach had insisted on doubling the quantity of food she'd selected. Looking at it all, one would think they were going out for weeks, rather than just the day.
She heard a noise and looked behind her to see him balancing one last crate on his shoulder. He pulled the front door shut and said, "We ready?"
Liz nodded. "I've checked everything. Water, fuel, food, rain gear, life jackets. But there aren't any rafts."
"Don't need 'em." Zach tilted his head toward the two cypress canoes tied to cleats on either side of the boat. "We've got the pirogues." He flashed a grin. "How quickly we forget."
"It'll come back to me."
"Like the bicycle thing? Don't kid yourself, Liz. A mistake'll cost you more than a skinned knee. You're lucky to have me along."
A bit exasperated by his cockiness, she said, "It's not like we're boating around the world. I appreciate your offer, but how much distance could my father have covered in that small boat?"
"Enough, cher." The teasing smile vanished. "Enough. He knows what he's doing."
He climbed into the boat, stowed the crate in one of the storage bins, then went to the pilot's seat. A moment later, the motor sputtered to life. He reached for the shift lever, then paused, looking her over rather critically.
"Those clothes," he said, "you'll roast."
She was getting warm. She'd stripped off her raincoat while cleaning up the kitchen, but now found herself tugging repeatedly at the neck of the speckled sweater.
"Yeah," she said. "But I— Wait, my mother said she kept most of my old clothes."
She rushed back to the house, climbing the outside stairs to the second floor, and rummaged through her parents' closet until she found a trunk near the back. A short while later, she pulled on a cap-sleeved cotton top, then stepped into a pair of overall-type shorts with tons of pockets that might come in handy. On her way out, she went to the kitchen for her coat, in case they were still out when the sun set.
She snatched it up hurriedly, impatient with this small delay, and as she passed the sideboard, she noticed the envelope she'd taken from Maddie. Despite her impatience, she picked it up and slipped out the journal, taking in her mother's familiar script that, typically, was part French and part English. She flipped through the pages and when she neared the end, she noticed an entry made on the day her mother died.
The sun sets soon on Port Chatre. Nights get warm now and bring sweet smells. Other afternoons, I sit out on this galerie to watch that big bright ball shine red on the water and am filled with peace. But tonight bring a different sunset.
With it comes le fantome noir and my night of reckoning.
I must safekeep the fire opal. If it falls in his hands, he will use it to walk the land like humans. But inhuman is his soul, and like the locust he will go forth, eating all who cross his path.
All my life I prepared for this night, like Maman and her maman before her. All the way back to time begins, our women have borne this curse to guard the fire opal against Ankouer.
When I wonder about those who die to give him strength to seek the stone, I feel a heavy sadness. I tremble, too. I tremble and am afraid.
Most folks no more believe in le fantome. Even Frank don't really believe. Ankouer be smart to make the world think this, so none prepare for him no more. Except for me.
Will I be strong enough? Will my heart stay pure? Will I defeat the evil one? This I do not know until the hour come. My dear Frank, he is not ready to defend me, and if he fails, I stand alone. Who can defeat Ankouer alone? Not Maman, and her heart were pure as any angel.
Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set Page 5