An urgent feeling filled my belly. I needed to see what lay beyond the light. I couldn’t explain where the feeling had come from, but I knew I had to obey. Despite my hardest efforts swimming through the nothingness, I was barely any closer to my destination.
My magic was rising to the surface, prickling beneath my skin and itching to escape. The light grew brighter. I focused on it and willed myself closer.
I was standing in an open room. It looked like someone’s home, despite being sparsely furnished. Exposed brick walls and steel rafters screamed of a converted warehouse. A worn grey sofa sat in the center of the room and a very familiar blonde head could be seen over the edge of the backing.
“Angie?”
The question left me before I could think clearly enough to stop it. I was just so damn glad to see her, but, despite my inquiry, there was no reaction from her. I strode forward and rounded the edge of the sofa.
Angie sat curled up with knees hugged tightly to her chest in the center of the couch. Seeing her in such a state made a knot form in my stomach. She was barely recognizable. The heavy bruising and swelling had left her delicate features. The Angie I remembered was so full of life. Her smile could light up a room. This Angie sitting before me was a shell of her former self. Her eyes were dull and lifeless. Her hair hung limp, stringy, and laden with grease.
Heavy footsteps echoed about the room and I turned just in time to see Arlen before he walked right through me as if I didn’t exist.
I wasn’t actually in the room with them. Shock still coursed through me, but I turned and watched the pair of them. Arlen slowed his movements several feet away from her, seemingly hesitant to approach her like a spooked animal. He reached out a hand towards her and stepped forward until his fingers brushed the hair from her face.
Angie’s reaction was instant as she jerked back from the contact and cowered away from Arlen. Her body shook in fear and sobs racked her frail frame. Arlen’s hand dropped to his side in defeat and his fingers curled into a tight fist. He appeared pained and deeply hurt by her reaction to him. I had noticed his instantaneous response to Angie when he first came into contact with her during her rescue. She was vital to him now and she was so damaged that she could do nothing else, but reject the comfort he had tried to offer.
I examined Arlen a bit more intensely. His iridescent purple eyes were ringed by dark circles. His stern face was sharp and angular, made all the more severe by his tired and pale complexion.
He backed up away from her and slumped against the wall dejectedly. His eyes never left her though. I knew they were both hurting badly and my hopes that Angie would be on the mend were shattered as I looked at her. Her cowering form was far from the strong and independent woman I knew.
My feet moved of their own accord, backing me away from the tortured pair and slowly the darkness had overtaken me once again. I knew their pain was my fault. I just wished that I knew what to do to ease their hurting.
My second trip through the inky matter was much faster. Hair whipped around my face and my skin grew cold and damp as I passed through the space. That time, the gradual brightening of the opening to the realm of the living was absent. Instead, I was slammed into an intensely lit room.
Losing my balance, I stumbled backwards and landed hard on the tiled floor. My eyes were unprepared for the lights and I was blinded momentarily before they slowly adjusted.
My head swiveled in every direction as I searched for anything even remotely familiar.
A dark wood counter stood on my left with mostly filled barstools lining its length. Raucous sounds from the street outside led me to believe that I was still in New Orleans.
As I gained my bearings, I peered curiously around the establishment as I searched for anything I could latch on to that would clue me in to why I was there. Groups of men and woman sat contently at tables nursing their drinks. Lone men and women prowled about, looking hungrily at their prospects for the night. People moved animatedly about the space within the cramped quarters of the bar. It wasn’t a place that I recognized, but there were so many watering holes in the city that it didn’t surprise me.
I took a tentative step towards the rear of the building, still searching for my purpose in being there, when my eyes stuck on a familiar mop of dark, wavy hair. He’d let it go a bit since I’d seen him last. Had it been long enough for it to grow that much?
It was Rhys.
Thick scruff covered his jaw and like Arlen and Angie, he looked like he hadn’t slept much. Though he was still one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen, he didn’t appear well. He sat hunched over a glass of amber liquor, my guess was whiskey. Rhys was staring intently at the bottom of the tumbler like he’d find the answers to all of the universe’s problems.
I felt my heart flutter at the very sight of him. I shuffled closer and hoped to feel the slightest bit of comfort I usually found with him.
His heady, masculine scent enveloped me and I ached to be held by him. His head turned towards me slightly, however he couldn’t see me. His eyes looked past me to the entryway as if he were waiting on someone. My throat tightened at the possibility that he may have moved on.
He turned back to his glass and downed its contents before motioning to the bartender for another.
My mind raced over all of the reasons he was there. A small part of me that I had trampled down was clawing its way to the surface, begging the question why wasn’t he coming for me? Why wasn’t he trying to do something? The flutter that had filled my chest was turning to ice.
I wanted to demand answers from him. His apparent lack of effort in coming after me was destroying the last glimmer of hope I had. If he had moved on, I’d have no other choice than to be resigned to my fate.
“Rhys?” The voice that escaped me was just above a whisper and sounded nothing like my own.
He moved just slightly, bunching up his shoulders, but otherwise made no indication that he could hear me.
Seeing him was so bittersweet. I was so glad he was alright and yet it was ripping the wounds our separation had caused right back open, leaving them exposed.
The darkness began to overtake me again. My magic raced within me and I pushed it outwards, fighting to stay with him as long as I could. It didn’t matter though. The harder I fought, the harder the black waves pulled me under.
“Rhys!” I screamed one last time, as I lost the fight to stay with him. His face snapped towards me, eyes wide just before everything went dark again.
He’d heard me.
Rhys drained the contents of his third glass of bourbon. The hair on his arms still stood on end and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t been alone. In fact, he’d been absolutely sure that he’d heard Maya’s sweet voice for a second, but she was nowhere to be found.
The waiting was killing him. He wasn’t a man to sit around and wait for others, however barging headlong into Guinee to rescue the love of his life would be suicide.
He took another glance towards the door before checking the clock on the back wall behind the bar for the tenth time in the last hour.
The nyanga was late. He hated working for witch doctors. Based on his past experiences, the nyanga’s couldn’t be trusted. They tended to be closer to snake oil salesmen than healers.
There had been so many dead ends already and Rhys knew that he was getting nowhere. Maya had already been gone a month. Her wedding would soon be approaching and any chance of bringing her home safely would be out of the question. Once she married the Loa, she’d become one in her own right. Maya would never be able to come back to him and the Baron would keep her on a short leash.
The whole situation was sketchy. Brigitte, the Baron Samedi’s first wife, had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Rhys would bet his life that it had something to do with whatever the Baron was planning. He wouldn’t take Maya the way he did if there wasn’t something big hidden up his sleeve.
The energy in the room changed. It was charged with v
ibrant and mysterious vibes that were distinct to the nyanga. Rhys looked up in time to see the flamboyant Tyrique Sepion strutting his way into the Three Legged Dog, drawing the attention of everyone in the place. In true Tyrique fashion, he pulled off his tan fedora and bowed deeply to those who had taken notice. Rhys wasn’t sure how the man could manage the maneuver while wearing pants as tight as he was. He popped up and sauntered towards Rhys, drunk on his brief time in the spotlight.
“Rhys, my dear, what a pleasure to see you again! Looking devilishly handsome as always I see.” Tyrique’s eyes devoured every bit of Rhys and stalling on his more intimate regions.
Rhys was more than uncomfortable, but he’d do whatever it took to find out a way to bring Maya back to him.
“Good to see you again, Tyrique. Still charming the tourists into leaving you their wallets and life savings?” Rhys asked with a grin.
Tyrique winked. “When the occasion calls for it. So, what brings you to this side of town to see little ol’ me? I can’t imagine you needing any help in the love department, nor to get rid of an enemy. Maybe you be having a bit of trouble with makin’ the rent?”
Rhys chuckled. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush and it would seem that neither was the nyanga.
“No, actually, it’s about the new queen, Maya Thibodeau. She was taken to the Land of the Dead against her will and I’d like to fetch her back without losing my own head in the process. I was hoping you might be able to point me in the right direction. If I remember correctly, there isn’t much that happens around this town without you knowing.”
Without answering, Tyrique motioned to the barkeep. “I need a martini. Shaken and…” he leaned closer to the man behind the bar and licked his lips, “extra dirty.” He turned back to Rhys while the bartender staggered backwards and hurried to put together the drink.
“Can you help me?” Rhys asked, cutting to the chase.
“It would seem you are off the market then. Shame, but I think I might be able to help you.”
Chapter Four
Revenge is a dish best served cold
My limbs were weighty and I felt as if someone had body slammed me back into my bed. Della stood over me with a firm grasp on my arms. She was shaking me and looking quite worried.
“Are you alright, miss?” Her quaint voice sounded sincere.
I shot upright and took stock of my surroundings, confused and disoriented. It had been so real…Rhys had been right there. I still had the remnants of his scent in my nose, but upon waking, I realized it had all been a dream.
“Yes, umm…I’m fine. Thank you, Della.”
Scrubbing my hands down my face to clear the sleep and grit from my eyes, I tried to make sense of it all.
“Yes, miss,” Della said as she turned and went about her business of setting up my morning meal.
I thought back on my visit with Angie and Arlen, and seeing Rhys again. Part of my brain nagged at me, telling me that it was much more than a dream and I was inclined to believe it. I’d had dreams before, that were true. Actually, that was how I’d discovered that Marie Laveau was my three times great grandmother. After everything that I had been through since discovering my own powers, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch.
Angie and Arlen were far from the happy couple I had thought they would be. I had not anticipated the extent of the damage that had been done to Angie, and I knew Arlen was suffering right along with her. He was her other half. It was as plain as day to me when they’d first come into contact with each other at the St. Louis Cathedral. Being deprived of the comfort they could offer each other wasn’t helping matters.
Then there was Rhys. I just knew that he’d heard me before I’d been ripped away from him. However, he wasn’t coming for me. I’d made my decision to save him and I’d known it was final when I had agreed to the Baron’s terms, but his resignation didn’t sit right with me. Had what we shared been real? Or was it another one sided fling? I didn’t have the time to ponder the circumstances of what I had seen any longer.
Before I could slip from my bed, Zelda barged in without ever stopping to knock. The woman knew no boundaries and there was no love lost between us. My stomach churned at her mere presence.
“Still in bed, are we? Unacceptable!” Her thick, Scandinavian accent made understanding her nearly impossible. “And such behavior from a future queen. Well, what are you waiting for? Get up!” she scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever witnessed.
The woman was intimidating to say the least and I had already managed to get on her bad side. Not wanting to anger her further, I threw the covers off and scooted to the edge of the bed. Daring a glance down at myself, I found myself still clad in the previous day’s gown which was wrinkled beyond recognition by sleep.
Zelda had a very important job, or so Henrietta had told me as I’d been doing my fair share of whining about the wench. She was what people used to call a valet, or someone who was in charge of making sure I was where I should be. She was to keep me on task and on schedule. I guessed she felt it gave her a great deal of power over those who she was charged with.
“Miss, your meal is ready,” Della meekly said with a curtsey. She hightailed it back out the door before I could beg for her help.
Great. She’d abandoned me. I wasn’t sure I could manage Zelda without the buffer that a third party offered.
“You have a busy day ahead of you. It would be wise to not leave everyone waiting.” Zelda’s eyes narrowed at me.
I didn’t satisfy her with an answer. Instead, I stood before her, visualizing any number of ways to knock her off her high horse. The child in me wanted nothing more than to turn her into a frog.
My patience with the bitch was fast running out. I hadn’t done a thing to her and yet somehow, I’d won her hatred. Between her and the Baron, I’d become a doormat. Everyone assumed that I was pliable and would do as I was told, but they plainly didn’t know me very well. At least, Samedi might have an inkling by now. My heated emotions brought my powers to the surface. They sizzled as they waited for instruction.
“Waltzing about and acting like the Queen of Sheba. She’s nothing special. Don’t know what he could possibly see in her,” Zelda muttered under her breath, yet loud enough to be heard.
“What the hell did you just say?” I demanded, knowing full well exactly what she’d said. Best part was that she knew it too.
She squared up to me and looked me up and down. Zelda’s jaw had a stubborn set to it and I knew a tongue lashing was coming.
“You aren’t Brigitte. You’re never going to be her. Best you can hope for is being a cheap substitute. So why not do us all a favor and not keep us waiting all day?”
She was seething as I stood there staring her down. My blood had begun to boil and I had to suppress my breaking point.
Turning, she began her jaunt to fetch something appropriate for me to wear. A task she had decided to make her own since she loudly disapproved of anything I picked for myself.
I remembered the hideous green frock and the squabble that had ensued when I refused. Needless to say, I wore the dress and was utterly miserable the entire time. It went so far that I even refused to leave my room that day so I wouldn’t be seen wearing it. My independent nature wouldn’t allow another such occasion.
“No.” My voice was quiet, yet firm as I stood my ground against the gargantuan woman. I wasn’t about to take any shit from anyone. She’d clearly gone on a power trip and let it all go to her head.
“What did you say?” She stopped mid-stride, on her way towards the armoire filled with clothes and faced me squarely. Her face resembled a tomato and a vein near her temple was becoming very pronounced.
“No,” I said a bit louder and readied myself for a fight.
After Drake and the Bacalou, I knew I could handle myself. My fingers sparked with the anticipation.
“I don’t think you understand. You don’t have a choice.” Zelda started towards me her face a storm
cloud.
“I will always have a choice.”
My hands raised in front of me, braced for impact and hot with untapped power that was more than ready for action.
She raised her hand above me, poised to strike. Recognizing the threat, I unleashed the barest burst of energy. It snaked its way out of me and drove straight into Zelda’s chest, stopping her in her tracks. Her eyes widened in shock as she made a choking gurgle and started grabbing at her torso. The magic winding its way through her lit her from the inside out, glowing the whole way. The fluid movement was mesmerizing. I tracked its whole journey until it reached its destination.
Zelda wasn’t in any type of mortal danger, but she’d know now that I wasn’t to be trifled with. Her lips started to droop, like melted candle wax and slowly melded together as they disappeared. She screamed within her throat and clawed at her mouth to keep it from sealing up. However, she was no match for me. Within a moment, any signs of her mouth were gone and all she could do was grunt.
Fear glistened in her eyes. Zelda stumbled backwards and sat down hard on my chaise lounge near the foot of my bed. Her shock was palpable. I was feeling drunk and euphoric on the power that coursed through me.
Such an action was so unlike me, and I wasn’t only a little surprised, but even more so that I was enjoying it. It was thrilling watching someone I loathed thrash about in panic while knowing I had bested her. A manic giggle left me, startling myself and making me chuckle harder.
Loud clapping from the doorway sobered me in an instant. I straightened and turned to see who had joined the party.
Papa Legba stood in the entrance, leaning against the jamb with a wicked grin and twinkling eyes. He continued his slow clap as he shoved off the frame and sauntered towards me, chuckling a bit.
A Soul's Surrender (The Voodoo Revival Series Book 2) Page 5