Voodoo Love (And the Curse of Jean Lafitte’s Treasure)

by Victoria Richards

  ****

  Juan and I were quiet for a few minutes, both processing what had just happened. I drove on the dark roads just outside of Barataria, unsure of where we were going or what the plan was. My mind felt jumbled and exhaustion crept in, a product of the adrenaline finally wearing me out. All I really wanted to do was find a bed, pull the covers over my head, and settle in for a week.

  "Turn right," Juan said.

  I slowed down and turned onto a dirt road. It was like traveling down a tunnel with Spanish Moss trees arched over the road, their arms heavy with leafy tendrils. My headlights cut through the darkness, but revealed nothing about what lay at the end.

  "Where are we going, Juan?"

  "To Euralie's."

  "What? She lives out here?"

  "Yes. Her family has owned a piece of land in this area for over two hundred years. They were some of the first original settlers of Barataria."

  "She's been so close all this time, and I never even knew it."

  "Euralie is a private person. She probably didn't want you to know about her. She feels that she failed her family."

  "Because the map got in the wrong hands?"

  "Something like that." He was quiet a moment. "Slow down. We don't want to run right into the swamp."

  I braked gently, glad for the warning. In the darkness, the water was hard to see, only the muddy bank giving away its existence. The car shuddered and then died. Too much ghost mojo, I guess. Without the headlights, it was impossible to see anything in the area.

  "Are we getting out?" I asked. "Even with your super powers, I don't think it's safe to run around the swamp without lights."

  "Probably not. Pop the trunk."

  "No keys. No can do."

  Juan disappeared, and a moment later I felt the car vibrate a little as the trunk was lifted open. I got out to see what was going on.

  "Here." Juan handed me a flashlight and a tire iron. As he was about to shut the trunk, I spotted something in its depth.

  "Whoa!" I reached in and grabbed a brown paper bag. "I know exactly what this. Good old Ellen made at least three trips a week to the liquor store to pick up her favorite brand of vodka. This is coming with us!"

  Juan gave me a weary grin as I cracked the seal on the bottle of Tito's Vodka.

  "C'mon, Elizabeth, we have a ways to go before we can let our guard down."

  I took a swig of vodka, feeling the burn as it went down my throat. Switching on the flashlight, I followed my ghostly companion through the brush of the swamp, hoping we weren't going to encounter snakes or gators. Neither was on my top ten list of things I wanted to deal with that evening.

  Then again, the walking dead hadn't been on the list either.

  Juan didn't say much. He steadied me a few times when I tripped, his touch sending small fires through my body which made me feel ashamed. I mean, really. How could I feel lust when I'd already seen so many bad things today? For crying out loud, I'd watched the man I'd called my husband for a year die. What was wrong with me?

  "Did you know Eddie was at Laveau's Lounge the night we first met?" I asked. "I saw him in the vision you showed me."

  "I know it now, but not when we were first there. I didn't know his role in this thing until much later." Juan stopped to look at me. "He isn't what he seems, Elizabeth."

  "Seemed." I corrected. "He's dead now."

  Juan frowned. "Is he?"

  "Isn't he?" I stared at him confused. "I know you were out of the room a second, doing whatever ghosts do, but Diego shot him."

  "Did you see any blood?"

  "Of course I---" I stopped, and thought back to that awful moment. Diego shot him in the chest. I remembered that clearly, but we'd gotten out of there so fast that I didn't really remember seeing any blood.

  "Your husband claims to be a cop, right?" Juan probed. "Who exactly does he work for?"

  "The Barataria police force now, but before that he was an undercover cop in New Orleans."

  "And you know that how?"

  "Because he told me so."

  "When did he get involved in your case?"

  "He was one of the people who pulled me out of the life raft the day you died. That's when I first met him. We bonded…and he helped me with the Feds." I tilted my head to the side. "What are you trying to say?"

  "Think about it. It's too much of a coincidence that he was in Laveau's Lounge and one of the cops that picked you up from the lifeboat. He's an agent."

  "Okay, maybe he is. I mean, what's the big deal? It's no secret the Feds wanted us to stay together. They arranged our fake marriage for protection. Maybe they wanted him to get info out of me."

  "I didn't say he was an agent for your government." Juan lifted an eyebrow and nodded at me as comprehension dawned. "It may be for the best that he's out of the picture. I'm not sure where his loyalties really lie, but I know one thing for certain. His heart belongs to another."

  "Who?"

  How could Eddie be involved with someone else? When did he have time?

  "Shhh…we can discuss it later." Juan stilled, his body tense. "Do you hear that?"

  I listened, trying not to dwell on the little patch of jealousy that sliced through me as I thought of Eddie with another woman. At first, I heard nothing, but then there was a low humming sound. After a moment I realized it was drums. Somewhere in the bayou they were being played in a slow, almost intoxicating rhythm. The cadence rose, snaking its way through the night, and making me uneasy. Juan put a finger to his lips and beckoned me to follow. I sucked down another gulp of vodka for courage and tried to keep up with his pace.

  We stopped at a little cove deep in the bayou. Perched on the land was a boat, what the Cajuns called a pirogue. It's small and used for traveling in the murky bayou waters when a regular sized boat can't do the job. Some of them have motors you can hang over the side to help them move, but this one was pretty crude. All I saw to help maneuver it was a long thick stick.

  "Uh-uh," I said. "You've got to be kidding. I'm not getting in that boat. We'll sink. Or an alligator will throw us over with one swat of his tail."

  "It's safe." Juan bent over the boat and pushed it off the bank. "Come on."

  "Juan, I--"

  "Elizabeth, there are all kinds of things in the bayou, things that you don't want to encounter. Please get into the boat."

  Things? That didn't sound good. I managed to get in the boat, tensing as it rocked precariously from side to side. Juan pushed off using the stick and then we were gliding through the swamp, towards the drums.

  Without a moon to guide us, the swamp was just eerie, and I heard odd sounds that I couldn't identify. Sometimes it seemed that laughter, rough and course, bubbled around us, and once, I could have sworn someone just to my left was crying. But I could make out nothing, and when I shone the flashlight around there was only trees and the occasional splash of water.

  As I took another sip of vodka, I squinted in the darkness, trying to see Juan. Another time and place, perhaps this would have been considered a romantic outing. Even though we were in danger, my mind wandered back to our kiss earlier that day in my house. It had set my hormones off, making me long for him and causing me to wonder what else had taken place between us two years ago. My dreams were always explicit when it came to Juan and more than once, I dreamed about sex with him. Had we ever actually done it though? I couldn't remember, but I knew I wanted to. And I wanted it bad.

  I drank again, knowing that I shouldn't be having these thoughts. Before I could examine them further, an orange light flickered in the distance. As we got closer, I could see it was a fire someone had started in an old chiminea. Its flames illuminated a weathered and worn shack surrounded by Cypress trees. A figure sat next to the fire deftly beating on a small drum and chanting.

  "Is that Euralie?" I asked.

  Juan nodded and maneuvered us towards her small wooden dock. She continued with her work, not appearing to notice us as we got out of the boat. I gripped the bottle of
vodka tighter as we approached her, ready to use it as a weapon.

  Euralie stood and the bayou fell silent without the sound of her drums. Her eyes were tightly shut. She was inside a white circle made of bones laid out on the ground. Various candles were lit inside the circle, surrounding a tall drum called a tanbou. A small animal skull sat to her right, and her long green sundress swept against it as she swayed. Outside the circle were symbols and intricate pictures that I couldn't interpret, but I knew what this was.

  Voodoo.

  You can't live in Barataria or anywhere in Louisiana for that matter without being aware of it. It's part of the backbone of the culture around here. Many people believe in talismans and voodoo spirits who have the power to give and take away.

  "Don't break my circle." Euralie kept her eyes shut. "One of you ain't natural anyway. You have no power here. But the other…."

  She opened her eyes and stared at me. Thought it had been two years since I'd last seen her, she didn't look surprised to see me. If anything she looked…angry.

  "You got all the power." Euralie said. "Your very skin sings of power, Elizabeth Brown."

  "You remember me?"

  "Oh, I know you, alright. And I’m good friends with an acquaintance of yours."

  "Who?"

  She pointed at my vodka bottle. "I see you brought an offering. That's good. The voodoo loas like all kinds of liquor."

  "Loas?" I turned to Juan who merely shrugged.

  "Spirits, little girl," Euralie whispered. "The gods of voodoo are called the loas. And they be stirred up something awful tonight. They need something to calm their spirits."

  "I know just how they feel," I said.

  "Do you?" Euralie peered at me. "You look like someone who has seen many things. You still got my treasure map?"

  I glanced at Juan for help here.

  "She doesn't remember anything Euralie. Not the treasure, the location--nothing." He took a step towards her, but she held up a small cross made from two chicken bones. "I won't hurt you."

  "You're a dead thing, unnatural," Euralie said. "Can't be too careful when it comes to your kind. Reveal!"

  With that she raised her hand and blew black ash at Juan. It drifted towards him, wrapping around his body. He shuddered and pale green glow emanated from his skin. Euralie's eyes widened and a slow smile crossed her face.

  "Ah, you got the mark. Lafitte has placed his curse on you. You're a crewman, ain't you?"

  "Yes." Juan stepped towards her, his hands outstretched. "But I’m trying to earn my freedom, and I've made a deal with Lafitte to do it. I can still be saved."

  Euralie studied him, sizing him up in her way. I felt lost though. What were they talking about?

  "Maybe you can," she said, eyes darting back and forth between us. "Maybe you can. Take the girl inside and rest. You both look terrible. There's a room in the back you may use."

  "There's a man after us, Euralie," I said. "Diego Martes. He killed my husband."

  For a moment, she looked stricken. Grief stretched across her face, and I thought I saw something dark in her eyes. My visions of the past had revealed she had no fondness for Diego. He'd abused her and stolen from her, and while I still didn't know their whole story, I didn't want her caught off guard. She gave me a tight smile and nodded.

  "I'm ready for him. I'll keep watch. There's all kinds of tricks up my sleeve now." She looked out into the dark bayou and then over at Juan. "You rest. I think you got unfinished business with that one. Diego won't cross the swamp tonight."

  I hoped she was right. I hoped those ghosts were keeping him occupied.

  "Leave the vodka," she instructed.

  Euralie's house was small but clean--if you could get past the dried gator heads on the wall and her collection of animal skulls that seemed to rest on every shelf of the house. There were strange drawings on the floor, the walls, and even one on the ceiling.

  "Veves," I said.

  Juan raised in eyebrow and I gestured at the drawings.

  "A veve is like a symbol for certain voodoo deities." I pointed at one on the wall. "That's the one for Marie Laveau, the famous voodoo priestess."

  "How do you know that?" Juan asked.

  "I…I don't know," I admitted. It had just come to me. Maybe another piece of the puzzle was finally being revealed. Something about those symbols seemed familiar.

  "Let's go find a room," Juan said. He probably didn't mean it to the sound the way he did, full of a double meaning, but that's where my mind went and I couldn't help but blush a little. Luckily, Juan didn't see.

  I pushed open the door to the bedroom, amazed when the candles placed all over the room suddenly lit on their own. Their small flames whisked to life illuminating a four poster bed draped with white, gauzy fabric.

  "Did you do that?"

  Juan shook his head and looked around the room, his stance cautious.

  Directly above the bed on the ceiling was another veve, and I recognized this one, too.

  "La Sirene," I said. "The voodoo loas for lust and love. She sings to her lovers, seducing them into her bed."

  Juan shut the door. For a moment we stared at each other, both of us acutely aware of the awkwardness of being alone like this. It was one thing to be on the bayou with him, but a whole other thing to be in a bedroom with the man I'd been fantasizing about for the last year.

  "I think I'll freshen up a little," I said and headed to the small bathroom attached to the room. There was a blue silk robe hanging on the back of its door and I couldn't help but think longingly of taking a shower. Maybe Euralie wouldn't mind if I borrowed her robe?

  Twenty minutes later, I left the bathroom feeling clean and slightly more relaxed.

  Juan waited for me by the window. He gave me a soft smile as he took in the robe and the fact that I was naked underneath it. Instantly, there was heat in the room. Not the humidity of the bayou though. No, this heat was more sultry, more sensual--a reflection of all my bottled up emotions. The exhaustion and shock of the last several hours slipped away as Juan approached me.

  "Are you alright?" he asked.

  "No." My truthful answer caught him off guard. He touched a strand of my hair, ran a finger down the side of my face.

  "What can I do, Elizabeth?"

  He made my name sound beautiful, desirable. I knew what I wanted from Juan before this whole crazy adventure came to an end. Sex. Now it was my turn to give him a suggestive look.

  "You sure that's what you need right now?" he asked with a grin. He didn't wait for my answer. Instead, he pulled me to him.

  I shut my eyes and let my body drown in the sensation of his touch. He cupped my face between his hands, kissing me so deeply that I felt dizzy and weak-kneed. Before I could turn into a puddle of desire on the floor, Juan picked me up and carried me to the bed. He ran a hand over the robe, giving the sash a small tug. With slow and patient hands, he parted my robe. For a moment, he stared down at me, the heat of his gaze warming my body. Then he kissed the hollow of my neck, his lips pressing as light as butterfly wings against my sensitive skin. I couldn't fight the shivers, and as he moved back up there was a satisfied grin on his face. The robe slipped from my shoulders and arms. Gently, he pushed me back against the soft bedspread, trailing little kisses down my legs. I moaned softly and his grin grew wider.

  "Stop right there," I said. "I want you to undress for me."

  A wicked little light gleamed in his eyes.

  "I see you've gotten better at saying what you want," Juan said, removing his shirt. "Two years ago, you were hardly able to look at me without turning red. What else has changed about you?"

  I gave him my own wicked smile. "I've found that I like to be in control of things."

  The candlelight added a sensual glow to his body, and I have to say that for a dead guy, he still had one killer set of abs. Unable to stop myself, I swung my legs on either side of him. Sitting up, I ran my hands up his chest, pinching at his nipples until they hardened. I lic
ked one and heard his sharp intake of breath. Then my hands slipped lower and undid the button on his pants, yanking them down until he stood naked before me.

  I reached out to touch him again, my hand gently gripping his erection. I stroked him, watching his face as he closed his eyes, thoroughly enjoying my touch. His breath grew ragged and I couldn't help but give a soft laugh at the sheer delight of having such power over him.

  Juan opened his eyes and with a little growl, gave me a gentle shove and made me lay back down. Then he lowered the filmy white curtains on each side of the bed. I could see the glow of the candles all around us, pushing through the fabric, and then there was nothing but Juan.

  Though I'd been looking at him for the last few hours, I'd really only seen the memory of him. Seeing him this intimately again had me thinking how handsome he was, how amazing his body could feel pressed to mine. The sharpness of his chin, the slant of his eyes as he looked at me, the primal, raw smell of him--it shattered my defenses and made me completely open to him in everywhere that a woman can be.

  "I've missed you," he whispered.

  "I bet you say that to all the girls," I teased. "You probably have a whole bevy of undead girlfriends."

  "Doesn't work that way," he said, running a hand over my breast, caressing it tenderly. "There is only you. You changed me."

  He kissed me again, and there was no more room for talking as we teased at each other's most sensitive spots. I moaned as his fingers stroked between my legs, stirring my passions until I almost couldn't stand it.

  As he entered me, my body arched up, and I saw once again, the veve on the ceiling--La Sirene. I felt like her at that moment--powerful, seductive, a creature of sexual prowess. I wrapped my legs around Juan, desperate to make him mine. Judging from the guttural sounds he made, he didn't seem to mind.

  His gaze went dark as he looked down at me. I was drowning in sensation and his deep, slow thrusts pushed me closer and closer to the edge as the intensity of our passion began to overtake me. I was so open to him, so open to anything he wanted and he knew it. At times his movements were fast and hard, and yet just when I'd almost peaked, he would slow down, teasing me into a submission that made me moan for more.