Tempt Me

by R. G. Alexander

The Mambo opened another box and pulled out a long strand of blown-glass beads and bone. “Some things are sold, many are given away to those truly interested . . . but some objects are too powerful and are entrusted to me to keep safe for as long as I can. Until another keeper comes along.”

  Elise moved to the other side of the Mambo and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “Very subtle, Annemarie.”

  The Mambo glared at her before turning her obsidian gaze back to Bethany.

  Bethany started. “Me? Are you talking about me?”

  Did she sound hopeful? It sounded like a major homework to Angelique, but then, she’d never met anyone so interested in books and history as Bethany was. Even with a sensual powerhouse of a husband to distract her, she still found time for her other great obsession.

  The Mambo’s expression was serene. “I’m not planning on going anywhere just yet, but I would like you to catalogue some of the older, personal journals for me. I know you don’t practice the faith, but you are connected to it all the same. Who else do you know who’s been on the other side of the Gate of Guinee and back? Who, other than you, has been granted an audience with Papa Legba and brought home a Loa of her very own?”

  Angelique stepped closer. She knew the stories about the gate. Every New Orleans teen who’d snuck out of the house to go to a party, who had to walk past one of the cemeteries late at night, knew not to look for it. “Wait—that’s real? Is that how BD became human? Bethany found it?”

  The three women turned toward her as if just remembering she was there. Elise nodded at the same time Bethany shook her head.

  “I wouldn’t have known about it if not for them.” She gestured toward the Mamas. “And Emmanuel.”

  “Emmanuel?”

  Elise smiled, clearly delighted. “She hasn’t heard the whole story yet, has she? How about we have our coffee and tell her before we work?” She scrunched her nose at Annemarie. “And I’m not just saying that because I don’t like getting dirty. Everything happens for a reason, yes? Angelique is one of the family now; she deserves to hear the highlights. Should we start with Bone Daddy waking up naked in the cemetery? I love that part.”

  Angelique closed her mouth, which had dropped open at Elise’s very visual teaser. “Now you have to tell me.”

  Sipping the rapidly cooling liquid, she listened, utterly enthralled as Bethany told her the whole story of how she and Bone Daddy met and fell in love, of their tragic past life together and the Loa’s intervention, as well as the young ghost Emmanuel’s sweetness and sacrifice.

  She’d known the basics, information garnered from eavesdropping and Allegra’s writing, but nothing this detailed. “That is the most romantic story I’ve ever heard.”

  But a little sad. Angelique found herself feeling sorry for the boy who’d died so young, who’d spent so many years trying to share the truth about what happened to his sister and her lover. And then, when he’d found them at last, a family and people who could see him, he had to leave them again.

  “Poor Emmanuel.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud until Bethany took her hand gratefully. “Thank you for that. He deserves to be remembered. And I do miss him, but he wanted to go. I have to believe he’s happy. That he is where he is destined to be. And with what I know now about life . . . I believe, in one way or another, we’ll see each other again.”

  Then her deep blue eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head. “In fact, I could have sworn I heard him the other day. Or someone who sounded a lot like him. Like I’d imagined he would sound if he’d grown up.”

  The older women leaned closer. “You did? Was that how you knew about my . . .” Mambo Toussaint took a calming breath. “About the fight?”

  Bethany nodded. “Yes, but I know it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. Still . . . who? And why me? Why didn’t whoever it was go to Michelle or one of you?”

  Angelique was lost. The fight? She remembered the fading bruises on Gabriel’s body. They must be talking about him—and a disembodied voice that had led help to him . . .

  She looked at the Mambo. “It might be the same voice that talks to him.”

  Now all eyes were focused on her, and, standing behind the other women, Bethany was shaking her head in warning.

  Elise pushed a lock of shiny blonde hair behind one ear. “A voice talks to him? How could you know that, dear?”

  Uh-oh. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. “I—Um, well. I was out in Ben and Michelle’s backyard look—I mean getting some air.” She covered her racing heart with her hand, feeling the same way she had when she’d told her mother that Leroy Cavuti had given her a hickey. “I heard Gabriel yelling at someone, but when he saw me he said he was just talking to himself.”

  The Mambo swayed and Elise wrapped an arm around her, leading her to the nearest chair.

  Angelique didn’t need any special abilities to know what they were all thinking. That it was the djab. That the thing they couldn’t place, the feeling they all had around him since he’d returned was what they’d most feared. But she knew it wasn’t true. She wasn’t sure how she knew; she just did.

  She knelt beside the Mambo with an earnest expression. “It told Bethany how to help him, right? And when I heard him, he sounded like he was arguing with a really irritating pest, not anything evil.” She thought about the conversation she’d had with BD and Bethany, grasping for another explanation. “For all we know, it could be those Marassa Twins. Or a guardian angel.”

  Gabriel wasn’t evil. Rude, insensitive, and aggravatingly arrogant, certainly, but not evil. Angelique fiddled with her cross again, praying her instincts were right. That the man she was lusting after, feeling protective of, wasn’t irredeemable. That she wasn’t as wrong about him as her mother had been about her father.

  “BD would agree with her.”

  Angelique glanced up over her shoulder at Bethany, who was biting her lip. Was she holding something back, or concerned that Angelique had said too much?

  Mambo Toussaint spoke in a soft, gentle voice. “Elise is right. You are here for a reason. A very special spirit to be so kind. Theresa is wise to be proud of you, though I think, just like any mother would, she still sees you as the baby she held in her arms. But you’re a woman, aren’t you? Elise, I think we are getting old.”

  Elise Adair made a dismissive sound. “Impossible. I’m sure I would’ve noticed something like that.” She, too, looked down at Angelique, reaching out to place a hand on her arm.

  Angelique recognized her expression. Her son, Ben, had worn it each time he’d searched her mind, looking for the truth. Oh damn, how could she have let herself forget?

  She tried to push away the memories of her and Gabriel together, but from the startled look on Elise’s face, she knew she hadn’t succeeded. Angelique blushed.

  “She is definitely grown-up now,” Elise murmured. “But I think she’s right—nothing negative has control of him. Still, there is something going on with Gabriel. Something he hasn’t seen fit to tell his family.”

  Angelique could relate. Hadn’t she been avoiding her own family? Not only keeping her growing feelings for Gabriel a secret, but also not telling them about turning down the job one of her professors had offered her with the Atchafalaya National Wildlife Refuge?

  She’d been drawn home again, at a crossroads in her life, trying to decide what she really wanted for her future. Dragged back here as if by an unseen hand. She didn’t know why. She’d thought she wanted the job. She’d worked for it.

  Until recently, she’d been planning on making a permanent home in Baton Rouge, close to her friends and the life she’d built for herself over the past few years. Where she wasn’t the innocent who needed to be protected from all the family skeletons. From life. But something had been missing. She’d come back to New Orleans to discover what it was. Though since she’d returned, questions about her future had taken a backseat to her preoccupation with Gabriel.

  “Maybe you will find yo
ur answers soon, little angel.”

  Shit. Elise was still touching her. Angelique stood up quickly, distancing herself from the petite empath. She wondered how Michelle did it, marrying into a family who knew every random thought in your head. It was disconcerting.

  Mambo Toussaint rescued her from having to respond. “Leave the poor girl alone, Elise. She’s come here to work, she’s relieved an old mama’s mind, and she doesn’t need us giving her the mental third degree.” She placed her hands on her thighs and leaned forward until she was standing again. She smiled at Angelique. “It’s enough for now to know he’s safe from that evil. My son came home. And he’ll come to me with his burden in his own time.”

  Elise seemed dubious, but nodded in agreement. “Let’s start unpacking these boxes, then. The longer we wait, the dustier they get.”

  Mambo Toussaint chortled. “Ain’t that the plain truth? Angelique, I think there’s a box of protection fetishes and jewelry around here somewhere. If you find something good, maybe you can keep it as payment for helping us go through everything. Just let me see it first. Bethany, I put those journals around here somewhere . . .”

  She turned away and Angelique shared a look of relief with Bethany, heading to the box farthest away from Elise Adair. She was grateful that Ben’s mother hadn’t mentioned her encounters with Gabriel to the Mambo, but she wanted to keep her thoughts to herself, thank you very much. The smartest move, in her opinion, since so many of them these days were X-rated.

  The hours passed swiftly as the foursome dug into the pile of other people’s memories. Angelique hadn’t realized it would be this engrossing. That the figurines made of seashells or the rings made of twine would make her feel like an explorer discovering buried treasure.

  Mixed in with the trinkets were old photographs of women and men from a time when New Orleans was younger, the clapboards brighter, and life filled with more promise and vitality.

  Back then there was no graffiti, no areas of town cordoned off by orange tape, no bad memories that everyone wanted to forget. She knew Louisiana had never been an easy place for people to live. They’d carved their cities out of the bayou and swamp, daring the elements to take away what they’d created. Though nature had tried on many occasions, the people always came back, more defiant than ever.

  But Hurricane Katrina had been different. New Orleans hadn’t bounced back with its usual resilience. Sure, the main tourist attractions were back in business, people were still drinking to excess, riding in horse-drawn carriages and having bei-gnets at Café Dumond. But beneath the glitter of the beads and celebrations, the melody of the city had changed.

  Each time she’d come home on vacation from school, Angelique had looked for it, what she remembered from her childhood. It hadn’t gone away completely; people were building houses and repairing what had been lost. Others, like her, had gone to school with the intention of fixing what had been broken. But she knew in her heart it would never be completely the same.

  She lifted the yellowed picture in her hand, staring at the proud, smiling figure with a white kerchief covering her curls. New Orleans would never again be the place this woman had known.

  A tinny, musical sound drew her gaze to the corner of the room. A small bookshelf filled with shoe boxes. She heard it again and Angelique glanced at the others, wondering if they heard it, too. No one glanced up from their work. Strange.

  Angelique set down the picture and got to her feet, walking until she was standing right in front of the bookshelf. The shoe box directly in her line of vision moved. Her brows furrowed in disbelief.

  Maybe she needed more coffee.

  She turned to go back to her sorting when something hit her right between her shoulder blades. Angelique looked down on the floor. “What the—?” A box lid was lying there as if it had tossed itself at her.

  She grumbled under her breath about the dangers of voodoo shops, bending to pick it up and cover the box once more.

  “Oh, how pretty.”

  Right on top, spread out as though waiting to be admired, was an antique locket. A beautiful piece of jewelry with delicate, silver filigreed leaves and vines, leading to a single ruby-red gem. A rose. Inside the frame of vines the locket looked as though it had once had an engraving, but it had been worn away so much Angelique knew that more than time was involved.

  She reached for it, feeling the weight in her palm. It was warm. She tried to open it but the latch was sealed. It appeared that the silver there had melted, and there were still traces of wax along the seams.

  Someone hadn’t wanted this to be opened.

  Still, it was stunning. Holding it in her hands made her cheeks flush.

  “You okay?” Bethany showed up beside her, her arms full of books.

  “I’m fine. You are definitely in your element.”

  Bethany didn’t bother to hide her grin. “Absolutely. This is fascinating.” She lowered her voice. “I was just asking. Celestin isn’t very comfortable with this kind of thing because of your—”

  “Father, I know.” Angelique stopped her, knowing where she was going. “I’m the youngest. I mean, my memories of the old man aren’t good, but I have a lot less of them. And I didn’t have to suffer the consequences of my father’s deal.”

  The deal he’d made with Bone Daddy. The deal that offered the bodies of his children in return for the adoration of the one woman in town who wouldn’t sleep with him.

  Bone Daddy. BD. Angelique shook her head. “We are a very unlikely group, aren’t we?”

  Bethany shrugged. “I don’t know. On the outside maybe that’s true. But something brought us together, magic or hoodoo, whatever you want to call it. And love kept us close. Personally, I like us. And I’ve never been fond of people as a rule.” She hugged the journals to her chest. “Books, on the other hand . . .”

  The two women laughed just as Angelique showed Bethany her prize. “I just found this. The lid . . . fell off and there it was. Do you think the Mambo will let me have it?”

  Beth studied it and frowned. “You should ask, just to make sure, but she did say you could pick something you wanted.”

  “Why do you think they sealed it like this?” Angelique’s voice was hushed. She felt so strange. Breathless. And she couldn’t take her gaze away from the locket.

  “I’m not sure.” Bethany sounded thoughtful. “From what I’ve read, it’s done to keep the essence of something close. Locked inside. Love or protection, things like that. Maybe a woman was trying to keep her lover from roaming.”

  Angelique grimaced. She couldn’t imagine allowing herself to get that desperate. If she couldn’t get Gabriel on her own, no magical spell would do. She’d learned that much from her father’s mistakes.

  Still, she wanted this necklace. If it was a fetish used to bind a lover, then maybe it would serve as a reminder for her not to be so blinded by lust that she lost her bearings.

  A reminder she might need if she spent too much more time around Gabriel. It was an idea that didn’t scare her the way it should have.

  Not a good sign.

  CHAPTER 7

  “WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO TELL US WHAT’S GOING ON with you?”

  Gabriel froze in the act of putting on a clean shirt. “Bethany. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  At least she’d waited until he’d gotten out of the shower. She would have gotten an eyeful of more than just his naked behind, and he would have been too busy trying to ease the relentless, bottomless ache in his cock to notice her arrival.

  Just thinking about his most recent fantasy involving Angelique Rousseau made his erection stir again. Jesus. He needed to go out and get laid. Get this out of his system. Preferably with someone he didn’t know.

  “Well?”

  Bethany crossed her arms, tapping her toe on the wood floor, making him feel like a child about to be reprimanded.

  Gabriel sat down on the bed, buttoning his shirt. “I really appreciate you letting me stay here. It’s been . . . he
lpful.”

  He’d been surprised to find the same kind of protection in this house as he had at his mother’s. No shadows. He shouldn’t have been. BD did know all the tricks of the trade, after all. And he’d felt good here, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He still didn’t know what he was or why. And he still didn’t feel like he could tell them about Emmanuel.

  “I should go.”

  Bethany tilted her head, as though studying a strangely colored bug. “Probably. But for some reason I don’t want you to. Maybe it has something to do with the voice I heard the night we found you, but I feel responsible for you. Besides, unless you’re willing to tell your mother what you won’t tell me, I think you’ll do less damage under my roof.”

  Gabriel flinched. She sounded like Emmanuel. Had he done damage? Had his silence caused his mother pain? His sister? God, he was an ass. “So I can stay?”

  She was silent for so long he began to mentally consider hotel options; then she shrugged one shoulder. “You can’t hide forever—Michelle would kill me if I let you—but yes, you can stay. You have to earn your keep, though.”

  Bethany crooked her finger at him before turning to walk down the hall. Intrigued, Gabriel followed. They walked down the stairs in silence until they reached the black-and-white marble table in the foyer. Bethany picked up a large, sealed envelope and handed it to him.

  “Angelique forgot this at your mother’s shop today. I have too much to do but I really need her to get this tonight. It’s important.”

  A blow to the head wouldn’t have shocked him more. Despite his body’s immediate response, he shook his head. “You know that isn’t a good idea.”

  “What isn’t a good idea, Blue Eyes?”

  BD appeared from the living room and Gabriel swore under his breath. He’d been looking for the bastard all morning, determined to get some answers, but he’d been nowhere to be found.

  Bethany lifted her cheek for her husbands gentle kiss, leaning back against him affectionately. “I asked him to make a simple delivery, but Gabriel is afraid he won’t be able to resist Rousseau’s little sister.”