Several beats passed until I felt as if I was a rubber band about to snap. When he opened his lips to speak, I was already convinced the answer was yes.
He blew out a breath. “No.”
It sounded like what I wanted to hear but not necessarily the truth. “You sure about that?”
Daemon dragged his sight away from the road. His emerald eyes churned with an indefinable emotion. “Yes, I am sure.”
I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt because if I couldn’t trust him, then who could I trust? “Ok.”
We drove into New Orleans a quarter past noon. I strained my face against the glass and gaped at the energy spilling out of the street corners. Jazz music faded and began again as if the city had its own personal soundtrack. Happiness in pastel shades painted the houses and ivy climbed up the balconies of businesses. New Orleans was a place that would never lose its majestic powers.
Daemon broke into my thoughts. “It’s an amazing city, isn’t it?”
“You can say that.”
I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. A man playing a saxophone caught my eye and winked while his sweet musical notes floated in the air. I stayed that way, breathing in the sight and smells of the city until I grew dizzy with elation.
When I got back inside the car, Daemon saw my smile and matched it with his own. “I like seeing you this way.”
“What way?”
“Happy and free. New Orleans agrees with you.”
The fervid adoration in his gaze caused my eyes to drop away to the floor. My heart fluttered in my chest. It was dangerous to have these feelings for Daemon. We had no future together. He would watch me grow into an old woman while he stayed his young sixteen-year-old self. I couldn’t do that to him or me. On the other hand, no future with Daemon was as bleak as a winter’s day. As corny as it sounded, he had become my ray of sunshine.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
Daemon parked the truck next to a shop where a sign that read “Mrs. Ruth’s Voodoo House” hung in the window.
I hopped out. “Is this where we’re going?” Staring at the stone front, it appeared to be like any other business. Then again, I had never been to a voodoo house before.
Daemon joined me on the sidewalk. “It is, but prepare yourself. Mrs. Ruth is truly one of a kind.”
I came from Los Angeles where weird was the new normal, hardly anything fazed me anymore. “Please. Who do you think I am?”
Daemon shot me a grin. “You’re Sky Noelle. General badass and the sexist woman alive.”
“Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere.” I strode over to the red painted entrance and tried to locate a doorbell.
“This way.” I turned my head to find Daemon at an iron gate and looked back at the front door. He sensed my confusion. “Mrs. Ruth is a fan of façades.”
“Of course she is.”
Daemon swung the gate open and gestured for me to go first. “After you.”
I walked along a cobble stone paved pathway. Fairy lights were hung overhead and moss covered the buildings on both sides. Noise from the street dimmed to a low hum as Daemon closed the gate behind us. It was as if we had entered a private world unto itself. He placed his hand on my lower back. We walked toward the sound of jazz music, beckoning us into its embrace.
Daemon lowered his mouth to my ear. “On the weekends, Mrs. Ruth’s house turns into a speakeasy/non-stop party.”
The alleyway opened to a patio decorated with a long communal table. People were milling about, drinking, dancing, and having a joyous time. What caught my eye though was the woman who was clearly the host. She had a royal air about her that demanded your attention. Beautiful wouldn’t be an accurate way to describe her. Her tea colored skin, raven red hair, and angular jaw line didn’t quite fit the rest of her features until I moved closer and saw her become more arresting in her beauty. As if she sensed she had visitors, her head turned. At the sight of Daemon, her eyes brightened and envy turned in my stomach. I wanted to scream out that he was mine, but that would be a lie. Rising from her chair, she floated over to us.
“Daemon.” She held out her manicured hand. “It’s so nice to see you.”
He gracefully took her palm into his. “And you as well. Thank you for inviting us into your home.”
Her lips curled back into a smile that showed off a perfect row of straight teeth. “You know you’re always welcome,” she purred.
I stood there like an idiot, watching them exchange pleasantries. There was obviously an intimate history between them. You could practically see the sexual energy in the air.
She turned her gaze onto me. “Hello, you must be Sky.”
I didn’t know whether I should stick my hand out or not. So instead it hung limply at my side. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you…I am sorry I didn’t catch your name?”
A tinkering laugh escaped her throat. “How rude of me. I am Mrs. Ruth. The owner of this establishment.”
Figured as much, but I didn’t want to assume.
“It’s a beautiful place,” I remarked.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Ruth directed her attention back to Daemon. “You didn’t tell me she was so polite. It’s a nice change from these blubbering idiots,” she said jokingly as she gestured over her shoulder at her guests. They raised their wine glasses and laughed.
Daemon’s eyes held pride while he looked at me. “She’s pretty amazing.”
My cheeks heated at his compliment as a grin spread across my face. A burst of affection bloomed in my chest. Mrs. Ruth titled her nose up to the cloudless sky, breathing deeply. The lighthearted atmosphere vanished and was replaced by an inexplicable friction.
Mrs. Ruth lowered her chin and locked her gaze onto Daemon. “You haven’t told her yet,” she said vaguely. “Have you?”
His demeanor tensed. “That is none of your business.”
“It is my business. You know I do not allow deceit in my house.”
At a loss about what they were talking about, I looked at Daemon questionably. “What deceit?”
His features morphed into a mask of rage directed at Mrs. Ruth. What could Daemon possibly be holding from me?
Mrs. Ruth spoke soothingly. “It is not right for you to keep this from her. That’s not the kind of man you are.”
Her words struck a chord in Daemon because his fist relaxed and raw devastation replaced the anger. My stomach flipped over in anticipation. It was clear whatever secret he hadn’t revealed might shatter the foundation of trust we had built, which was why I faltered. What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat.
“You don’t have to—” Daemon cut me off with a look that pierced my soul.
“I do have to. Mrs. Ruth is right.”
Mrs. Ruth quietly excused herself and hustled everybody back inside the house so we were left alone.
I hugged my arms around myself to ward off an unexpected chill. “Ok then, tell me.”
“I’m so sorry, Sky.” Daemon’s hand lifted as if he wanted to touch me but it hung in the air between us. “I’m so sorry.”
His hand dropped to his side as the weight of what he had done brought him to his knees. He remained mute, staring at the cobblestone.
I got on his level and tipped Daemon’s face upwards to meet mine. “Whatever it is. We will get through it together.”
“I lied,” he began. “I have controlled your memories, or just one in particular.”
I stumbled backwards in disbelief as my pulse thrummed in my ears.
His green eyes churned with turmoil and regret as he proceeded to destroy the loyal man I perceived him as. “The car accident didn’t kill Melissa.”
My vision blurred as the ground underneath me shifted. Far off, Daemon kept talking. “She was an unplanned casualty. We were supposed to capture you and only you, but Melissa stepped in. She died saving you, Sky.”
My head throbbed as I tried to pry open my eyes but they felt like they had been rubbed with sandpaper. I moaned and flopped o
nto my side. The satin sheets twisted around my legs. Slowly, the events of what happened last night came back to me. Daemon had lied to me and it wasn’t a little lie either. He had a hand in Melissa’s death. A sob traveled up my throat. I couldn’t believe the man I had trusted with my life was also the one who took everything away from me.
“Shhh child. Drink this.” The edge of a cup was pressed to my lips. “It will calm you.”
I didn’t want to be calm. I wanted Daemon to pay for his actions. As if the mysterious woman could read my thoughts, she spoke again. “The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.”
“What?”
“Marcus Aurelius.”
I propped myself onto my elbows and let the world come into view. A woman with long blonde hair basked in the moonlight sat in a chair next to my bed. Her hands cradled the cup in her lap as she stared patiently at me.
“What?” I repeated.
“I was quoting Marcus Aurelius. He was a roman empire who ruled from 161-181 AD.”
“Cool.” I resumed my previous position and threw a pillow over my head. Maybe if I pretended as if last night never happened, I could squash the hate bubbling inside me toward Daemon. Yet it was impossible. He had kept this monumental secret from me while I had bared my soul to him about the night of the accident. If I thought my guilt was bad before I found out about the true story, it was a thousand times worse now. Melissa died because she was trying to protect me. Then Daemon stepped in and manipulated my memory. God, what really happened that night? Were we even in a car accident or was it just staged to look like it? Melissa’s inky black hair fanned over the sidewalk, her lifeless eyes, and the way she let out a small sigh as her soul left her body was so real. Wasn’t it?
I bit out a curse. “Where’s Daemon?”
“I am afraid I am not at liberty to say.”
The angelic act grated on my nerves. I threw my face into the pillow and let the frustration and betrayal and everything else I was feeling come out in one muffled long scream. When I looked back up, the woman’s expression was unchanged.
“You probably think I am a nutcase,” I said.
“Not at all. You’ve been thrown a tremendous curveball. The man you love is not who you thought he is.”
“Thank you…” When I realized she used the world love, my eyes widened. “I do not, nor will I ever, love Daemon.”
Her lips pursed as if she didn’t believe me.
“Seriously.” I threw off my covers. “How can I love somebody who is a stranger to me?” Tears gathered in the corner of my eyes.
“He did not have a choice. He was under the control of the voodoo priest.”
“Everybody has a choice.”
She shook her head. “Not unless somebody else owns your soul.”
I couldn’t believe I was arguing with a stranger over whether or not Daemon’s actions were justified. One of the Ten Commandments was “Thou shalt not kill,” and being a zombie was not a ‘get out of jail free’ card.
This woman had to leave my room before I strangled her. “Look, I don’t know who you are or why you have been sent here but I want to be alone.”
She gave me a pensive look. “My name is Ina and I’m afraid that is not an option.”
“According to whom?”
“The master of the house.”
It was as if I had blacked out and woken up in the 1800s. Since when were there masters of houses and servants no less? Ina needed to hear about something called women’s power. I had other pressing matters at hand though, like figuring how to get out of this prison. I didn’t want to be under the same roof as Daemon. Frankly, another state would be more preferable.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Well, can you at least get me something to eat? I am starving.”
Ina’s dress gathered on the floor as she stood up and crossed over to the other side of the room. She came back, holding a cheese platter with dried fruit and nuts. My stomach grumbled loudly. I hadn’t eaten anything since those two bites of pancakes but at last food could wait a while longer. I needed Ina to leave so I could jump out the window and make my escape, Men in Tights style.
I scrunched up my nose, faking revulsion. “I’m allergic to dairy.”
“You can eat the fruit and nuts.”
“Sorry, but that won’t be enough for me.” My face stretched into a sugarcoated smile. “Can you please go downstairs and get me a sandwich or something?”
Ina’s peaceful façade cracked and annoyance peeked through. “I told you the master of the house…”
“I know, but Mrs. Ruth? That is who you are speaking of, correct?” Her chin dipped in a yes. “Mrs. Ruth wouldn’t want me to starve. That wouldn’t look very good for the house or you.”
As soon as I brought up her reputation, Ina hurried to the door. “I will be right back.”
A tinge of remorse for lying tumbled in my stomach but it quickly disappeared when I thought about what Daemon had done. A hurricane of hatred built up inside me. I gritted my teeth, hoping it would pass, however, the hatred only grew worse. Black spots floated in my vision as I grasped the nearest object, a lamp, and threw it onto the floor. Shards of porcelain exploded around me. Panting, the spots cleared and my pulse leveled out. I stepped over the mess to see if there was a pair of clothes I could borrow. Mine would attract attention I didn’t need.
I opened an elaborate armoire. “Jackpot.”
There were rows upon rows of dresses each more colorful than the next. I pulled a black and blue striped maxi dress off a hanger. Tugging it over my head, it bunched at my feet. Luckily, I found a pair of scissors in my nightstand drawer. I cut off the hem to fit my 5’0” frame. With little time left, I slipped on my shoes and ran over to the window. My room was on the third floor with a patch of soft grass below. There was a chance I’d break my leg if I jumped. Nonetheless, there wasn’t an alternative plan. In the distance, footsteps approached. With all the courage I had, I took a deep breath and launched myself out into the open. Wind ripped through my hair as I fell to the ground. At the last minute, my legs tucked into my body and I rolled, saving myself a costly emergency room trip. I brushed the dirt off my dress and sprinted into the bright lights of the French Quarter.
The people who populated the streets didn’t spare a second glance at the girl in the maxi dress and long frizzy hair. New Orleans was a place you could blend amongst the weird.
“Excuse me,” I called out to a woman dressed to the nines. She turned around and I realized she was a drag queen. “Can you please tell me the time?”
She cocked her hip. “Honey, do I look like I own a watch?”
Her black jumpsuit shimmered underneath the streetlights while her pink heels put her easily at six feet tall but her arms were bare of any accessories. “No. Sorry to bother you.”
As I was about to head off in the opposite direction, she laid a hand on my arm. I looked into her heavily mascaraed eyes. Kindness softened them. “Why don’t you come get a drink with me? You seem like a girl who needs a strong cocktail.”
My mom had always said to never go anywhere with strangers. “I can’t. I’m not old enough to drink.”
“Then have a Shirley Temple for all I care, but I know that look all too well and it’s not safe to be alone.”
“Do I look like I want to kill somebody or something?”
She slapped her palm over her chest. “You look like your heart has been ripped out of your chest, smashed to pieces, and torched to ashes.”
Jesus, dramatic much?
Although, she was spot on once you added a dash of remorse into the mix. Sighing, my eyes took in the crowds of people. What other choice did I have? I was in a strange city in the middle of night. What happens in New Orleans stays in New Orleans.
“Alright, I’ll go with you but you have to tell me where first so I can prepare myself,”
I said.
She let out a deep belly laugh. “I like you…what’s your name?�
��
“Sky.”
Bowing at the waist, her raven red wig slipped down her forehead. “It’s a pleasure. You can call me Cheri Bomb.”
I had a strong hunch Cheri Bomb was her stage name. Unless her parents had a sick sense of humor. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Cheri sized me up and I fidgeted underneath her judgmental stare. “You look as if you been through the ringer.”
If only she knew how true her statement rang. I wished I had taken a shower before I jumped out the window. There was probably still dried blood on my skin amongst other unseen bruises. Cheri dug into her mega-sized purse. Muttering, she uncovered a tube of lipstick, a comb and wet wipes.
She stepped off to the side underneath an awning. “Come here. You can’t go into Cat’s Meow looking like you got into a fight with a raccoon.”
What was with everybody wanting to change how I looked? First it was Emily, then Lucy, and now Cheri. Still it wouldn’t be a bad thing if my appearance were altered a bit. That was the number one rule when you go on the run.
“Ok,” I said warily.
Standing in front of her, she tipped my chin upwards, while she attacked me with wet wipes. “Jesus girl, you’re covered in dirt and grime. Where have you been?”
I didn’t think she would take lightly if I said the lowest depths of hell so instead my shoulders shrugged in indifference. Next, came a swipe of red lipstick followed by a serious amount of tugging so my hair didn’t look like a rat nest. When Cheri was done, she pulled out a mirror and showed me my new and improved look. I had to give it to her; I didn’t appear half as bad as I felt. The power of red lipstick and a comb was transformative.
Cheri dumped everything back into her bag and hefted it over her shoulder. “Come on. We have to get to the Cat’s Meow before my set starts.”
I hurried after her, wondering what I had gotten myself into. The Cat’s Meow wasn’t a name that held a lot of sophistication behind it. Then again, nobody would think to find me there, which was ideal.
Five minutes later, we stood out front a nightclub. Techno beats from inside shook the ground beneath our feet. Girls dressed to impress stood in a line that snaked around the block.
The Accidental Kiss Page 14