by J. N. Colon
A giggle trickled out of Kara. “Anything to eat?”
Etie glanced at me questioningly, and I shook my head.
“How about some gator bites and French fries.” He gave Kara a heart-stopping smile.
Her cheeks flushed. “Sure thing.” She looked at me and pointed her pen at Etie. “Be careful with that one. He’s a snake charmer.”
I didn’t doubt that.
As she twitched away, his gaze remained on me instead of her perky ass.
“Are you ready to stop being a bad girl and listen?” he asked, digging a lollipop out of his pocket and peeling off the wrapper.
The way he said bad girl had my insides shivering. “You started it.”
He clucked his teeth before diving back into the conversation. “The main idea of voodoo is balance. There must be equal parts of bad and good in the world for it to remain in harmony.”
My head snapped back. “Evil has to exist?”
“Sort of.” He shifted closer, further intoxicating me with his scent.
Was he doing it on purpose?
“Without evil, good wouldn’t exist.” A finger ran over the scar on his cheek, his gaze pensive. “If there were no darkness, there would be no reason for light to chase away the shadows.”
I slowly nodded, wrapping my mind around the concept. “I guess that makes sense.”
He sipped his beer. “Events or people can make one side overtake another. When that happens, magic or sacrifices to the loa work to correct the balance.”
“Loa?” I leaned my cheek in my hand, fighting to pay attention to his words when his accent was lulling me into a trance.
“Loa are voodoo deities. They are the means of communication between humans and the Bondye, the one true god of all voodoo.”
I ran a finger through the condensation on the beer bottle with my free hand. “The loa are like lesser gods?”
Etie shrugged. “Compared to Christianity they would be like angels, good and bad.”
“Right. Because there has to be a balance.”
Kara appeared with Etie’s plate of fried gator bites and French fries. “Enjoy.” She winked at me, and I had a feeling she was telling me to enjoy the guy sitting next to me.
Etie ate the rest of his lollipop as he grabbed a bottle of ketchup, squeezing a glob on his plate. “Crossroads are very important in voodoo,” he said, licking bits of sugary candy from his lips. “Know why?”
I shook my head, afraid my voice wouldn’t work. Watching him for this long was hazardous to my health.
He picked up the salt shaker, sprinkling the fries. “It’s where good meets evil. They cross paths, and since balance is so important, the meeting place of both sides is sacred. Magic is strong at a crossroads.”
I reached over and grabbed a fry, dragging it through ketchup before dropping it in my mouth. Since Etie didn’t pester me about eating, it made me want to eat. The worst thing about being skinny was when someone pointed it out. They thought because you weren’t overweight it was okay to comment on your body.
They were wrong.
Etie pushed his plate closer. “Do you know what Carrefour means in French?”
I shook my head.
“It means crossroads.”
My fingers dangled above another fry. “Is that important?”
His eyes pinned me to my chair. “Think of our town as one giant crossroads. Things are drawn here, good and bad. It vibrates with mystical energy that attracts all types of creatures.”
Chills slithered down my spine, and I sat back, my hand falling to the table. How did my family end up picking some mystical kind of vortex to move to?
“It’s why my father traveled here.” His index finger picked at the label on the beer bottle. “He felt the pull of the crossroads, the magic.”
A sugary laugh echoed as the door across the room slammed shut, alerting the entire restaurant to a customer’s arrival. The flashy blonde’s blue eyes immediately landed on Etie as if he was her personal crossroads of good and evil.
She sashayed toward us, her boobs spilling out of her blacktop that was two—or three—sizes too small. The leopard print miniskirt wasn’t faring too well covering her ass either.
Etie cursed under his breath.
“You’re not excited to see your friend?” My voice was thick with sarcasm, masking the fist knotting in my chest. Etie didn’t only have a reputation for voodoo.
“I wouldn’t call her a friend, and no, I’m not the least bit excited to see her.”
“Hey, Etie. I was hoping I’d see you here,” she purred, twisting a blonde lock around her finger. Her nails were painted a deep shade of red.
“Trisha.” He gave a curt nod. It wasn’t the friendliest greeting, but she didn’t seem to mind.
I never had the pleasure of meeting Trisha Belmont personally. The stories from Marisol and Ms. Unrue were enough to warn me away.
Backstabbing tramp. Those were my sister’s words, not mine.
She sidled up next to Etie and ran those slutty looking fingers down his arm. “Why don’t you come buy me a drink? I’ll make it worth your while.”
I mentally gagged at her insinuation. I could only imagine what she had in mind. Actually no, I didn’t even want to think about it, let alone imagine it. The fries I ate were already rolling in my stomach.
Etie shrugged her hand off and motioned toward me. “I’m here with someone else.”
Her eyes flicked in my direction, a grimace masquerading as a smile crossing her face. “Oh. Agnus or something, right?”
I fixed her with a narrowed glare. “Or something.”
Etie cleared his throat, his lips twitching at the stare down between us. His arm slipped over the back of my chair, his skin brushing mine and sending electrical pulses through me. “Trisha, if you don’t mind, we were in the middle of something.”
The blonde scoffed. “If you get bored with the kid, I’ll be at the bar.” She gave her lips a slow lick before slinking away.
I turned toward him, the sarcastic remark on the tip of my tongue quickly melting when my lips almost touched his. My breathing hitched.
His eyes were dark and unreadable, holding me in an unrelenting stare. “Where were we, cher?” That voice had dropped, turning to warm honey as the accent thickened.
I swallowed hard. “I…uh…” Talk was a no go.
Etie’s nose brushed mine before he finally backed up, putting some well-needed space between us. He removed his arm from my back, and I could finally breathe normally. Well, mostly.
“Crossroads.” The word was so hypnotic coming from him.
“Crossroads,” I repeated. I blinked and shook the stupid from my brain. “Right. Crossroads.”
“It’s also why Baron Samedi answered your call that night.” He swirled his beer around, absentmindedly watching the golden liquid. “You were at the swamp, another crossroads. It’s where water meets land. He easily heard you.”
My brow furrowed. “But why didn’t Papa Legba come instead of Baron Samedi?”
Etie shook his head, and his gaze darkened. “I don’t know. It’s not like them to answer each other’s prayers.”
“Prayers?”
He shrugged. “What would you call it?”
My mouth turned dry as I posed the next question, one I feared I already knew. “Who are they exactly?”
As if Etie knew where my mind was going, he nodded. “Yes, cher. There are several more, but Papa Legba and Baron Samedi are two of the loa.”
My head spun as his words sank in. I called upon a voodoo deity—a lower god—and bartered my soul. “Papa Legba is a good loa?”
“Yes.” He rubbed his fingers on a napkin, smearing grease from the gator bites he’d just inhaled. “Baron Samedi is on the darker side.”
“There must be a balance.” My lips felt cold.
The sheer weight of my decision had me slumping in the chair. I’d signed my life away to a voodoo deity, one who danced on the dark side. The hope
lessness of the situation was choking me, invisible hands squeezing my neck.
There was no way in hell I was getting out of this myself.
My gaze slowly lifted to the voodoo Cajun next to me. “Help me.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
I didn’t really want to stop them.
He was already shaking his head. “I can’t.”
“You practice voodoo. You can do magic. There has to be a way to stop this. To undo it.” My fingers curled in his shirt while my eyes burned with unshed tears.
Etie’s jaw clenched as a storm brewed in his eyes. “I don’t like being involved in voodoo. I don’t like to use my powers unless I have to.”
“Then help me find someone who does,” I pleaded. “You grew up with this. You have to know someone who can help.”
Why didn’t he like using his powers? Was that why he almost bit Max’s head off when he asked if he could help instead of Bastien?
Etie unfurled my fingers from his shirt. “You’ve promised your soul to Baron Samedi. You’re gwo-bon ange. I’m not sure anyone could reverse that, cher.”
“I have to try something.” I gnawed on my bottom lip hard enough to taste the metallic tinge of blood. “I can pay you. Anything you want.”
Wow. Did I sound desperate or what?
Etie shifted away and leaned his elbows on the table, rubbing his face. His fingers dragged through those deep brown strands of hair, pulling on the roots.
If ever there was a time to beg it was now. I needed this guy’s help no matter how much he irritated me. I saw him use magic with my own eyes. He vanquished the baron’s spirits with a few words, sent them back to the spirit world within seconds.
I’d never felt anything like that in my life, but I knew that heavy, pulsating energy was his power and he’d only unleashed the tiniest tip of the iceberg.
An iceberg full of voodoo juju.
Etie turned and regarded me for a long time, his mismatched gaze dark and turbulent. The wheels in his mind were spinning, and the longer he stared, the more my stomach clenched.
After the lengthiest pause of my life, he licked his lips and swallowed. “There might be something you can do for me.”
My cheeks heated as my mind painted several naughty images.
His brow arched as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. “I’ll let you know specifics when I have more information.”
Chills trickled over my skin at the open-ended bargain. Of course, it couldn’t be any worse than bartering my soul.
“Do we have a deal?” His hand drifted forward.
My hand slipped into his warm one. “Deal.”
Lightning flashed through the windows, and a rumble of thunder drowned out the music. Ominous ripples slithered over my spine, sinking through my bloodstream. All the moisture was sucked from my mouth.
Etie had agreed to help me, but something told me my voodoo troubles were just beginning. How deep did I have to go in the world of magic to find my way back to freedom? Would I even walk away whole?
My gaze roamed over the mysterious Cajun. There was no way I was walking away from Étienne Benoit unscathed. If voodoo wasn’t the death of me, he or his mysterious favor might be.
Chapter 9
The crowbar bounced on the chipped wooden floor after I tossed it with unnecessary force. Blood pounded in my ears, and my nostrils flared. Sweat dribbled down my neck, soaking into my already damp shirt.
Étienne Benoit was the bane of my existence.
He strolled into the Leroux house today as if last night never happened. Like he never saved me from sadistic voodoo spirits belonging to Baron Samedi, and we didn’t strike a deal to help each other.
Nothing.
His eyes were dark and unreadable, his face a complete mask as he shoved a to-do list in my hand and disappeared out the back door without so much as a second look.
After prying up rotten baseboards in the dining room, my hands were covered in a crap ton of splinters. I should make him pull each one of them out.
I glared at him through a watery window while he used an electric sander on a door balanced on a work table. His skin glowed with sweat from the hot sun in a cloudless sky. The powder blue t-shirt stuck to his body, making the lines and curves of his hard chest visible.
I absentmindedly licked my lips.
“Want me to cut the power off so you can talk to him?”
I spun around at the humorous voice. Antoine, one of the tile guys working on the bathrooms upstairs, stood with his hands on his hips and a smirk curling his full lips.
“N-No. Of course not,” I sputtered as heat flushed my cheeks. “Why would I want to talk to him?”
Antoine clucked his teeth and wiped away a dribble of sweat running down his smooth, dark mocha cheek. “Girl, do not even play with me. That boy is sex on a stick, and we both know it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jar of lip gloss, applying some with the end of his pinky. “If he drove stick, I’d be the first in line.”
“I bet you would. Him or Bastien.” Antoine’s crush on the brothers was no secret. Half the men in town—gay or straight—were secretly crushing on the Benoits one way or another.
That didn’t mean I’d admit to having naughty thoughts about Etie.
Antoine pointed a buffed fingernail at the male in question. “And with all that candy he eats, I bet he tastes sweeter than cherry pie.”
I didn’t doubt that.
The sound of the power sander shut off, and Etie put it down.
Antoine shoved me forward. “You better go, girl. He’s whipping out a lollipop. Go get you a lick.”
I shot a narrowed glare over my shoulder, thankful my tan skin was masking the flush in my cheeks. “I’m only going because I need to talk to him about business.”
His tongue slid across his white teeth. “Sure.”
I spun around and headed toward the back door, careful to miss the gaping holes in the porch. It was worse than the front. The moment Etie saw me, he picked up the loud power tool.
“Do not even think about cutting that thing on.” My hands popped on my hips. What was it about him that brought out the sass in me? Maybe it was simply his infuriating personality.
His mouth formed a scowl. “What is it?”
“What is it?” I repeated, my expression incredulous. “Are you joking?”
“Do I look like I’m joking, cher?” He slipped the lollipop back in his mouth and reached for the sander.
I grabbed the power tool and pulled it out of his grasp. “What’s the plan?”
His face was a blank mask. “To finish sanding this door.” He yanked the lollipop out of his mouth and motioned toward the sander. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to work. Aren’t you supposed to be pulling up baseboards?”
I dropped the sander and snatched the lollipop out of his hand. Loss of candy would piss him off more. “Remember the mutual deal we struck? I help you, and you help me.”
“You have to break a deal with the voodoo king,” he pointed out, reaching for his candy without success. “My problem is a little easier to solve.”
I moved back until I hit the table, Etie crowding me. “You haven’t even told me what you want. And let me remind you, I’m running out of time.”
His body brushed mine, creating sparks of electricity along my skin. He gave me a feral smile. “I’m well aware of your time.”
“Play nice you two.” Bastien strolled by, shooting a wicked grin. “Or naughty, as long as you have fun.” He winked.
Etie used my distraction to grab the sucker from behind my back, shifting his body further into mine. He remained there, the entire length of him pressed against me. Warmth spiraled through my stomach, and my pulse kicked up.
“We’ll do whatever I say when I say, Angeline.” Hot breath ghosted down my face and neck, spreading goosebumps along my flesh.
My eyes narrowed, determined to wipe that smug look off his face. “You’re no
t the only one with magic,” I reminded him. “Maybe I should ask Bastien for help instead. He’s the nice one.”
I spun around and took one step toward his brother when warm fingers curled around my bicep. He yanked me back so fast air caught sharply in my lungs.
“Don’t even think about going to my brother for help.” His voice deepened, and his eyes began to shimmer with that otherworldly sheen. “Not unless you want your gwo-bon ange to end up with the baron.”
My brow arched in challenge. “Bastien has magic, too”
“I’m the best person to help you on this. Trust me.”
“So help me then.” I pulled out of his grasp. “Don’t ignore me or the importance of time.”
“I know. You have two weeks before your birthday.” Etie raked his fingers through his hair, mumbling French beneath his breath. He was probably cursing me. “Be ready at 10pm tonight. I’ll pick you up.”
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced at my feet. “Do not wear flip flops.”
Something bumped the bottom of the boat, and I grabbed onto the edge, imagining a gator tipping us. My wide eyes searched Etie’s calm expression. He looked right at home in the middle of the dark swamp. I guess he was.
“You don’t need to worry about the gators, cher.” His deep, hushed voice easily carried through the humid air. He continued to row, the muscles in his arms rhythmically stretching and coiling.
“You keep saying that, but it’s not making me feel any better,” I mumbled, my eyes skimming the water.
“It’s not the gators you need to worry about. You need to keep a look-out for snakes.” Etie jerked his chin toward my left.
A large form slithered from a tree branch, falling into the water not far from me with a splash.
I choked on a gasp. There was no part of the swamp that wasn’t treacherous.
A deep chuckle broke from Etie. “Relax, Angeline. We’re almost there.”
I scowled in his direction, wanting nothing more than to toss him overboard. Then again, without him, I’d be lost in two-point-five seconds and gator food by morning.
Nocturnal eyes glowed from the thick green foliage curling along the edges. Air bubbles floated up, breaking the surface of duckweed as we coasted by. The slosh of a gator returning to the water echoed, mixing with the crickets and frogs serenading the night.