by J. N. Colon
I swallowed hard, the painful answer clinging to my tongue. “The baron paid me a visit earlier.” Rum still lingered in my mouth.
Worry lines deepened across his forehead. “What happened?”
I licked my dry lips, hesitating. “He told me if I broke the deal, Marisol would die.”
Etie’s expression was blank for several moments as my words sank in. Silence stretched between us, heavy and palpable.
Once he understood, his eyes transformed into a raging ocean and a wild, primal forest. “You are not serious!” His growl shook the entire porch.
I was lucky no one was home.
His hands fell from around me, and he began pacing like a feral animal trapped in a small cage. Rapid French tumbled from his mouth, probably cursing me to hell and back again.
“I’m sorry, Etie,” I said, interrupting his tirade. “I’m sorry you wasted your time on me, and I’m sorry I made you use all this voodoo.”
He halted, slowly turning in my direction. Hard lines etched his stony face, but something beyond the fury radiated around him. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
I continued in his silence. “After I’m gone, you can still look for the bokal in my house. You can sneak in when no one is home. Bastien can help.”
He marched toward me until he had me trapped against a column. Heat radiated from his body. “You think that is what I care about?” His voice rumbled through the air along with pops of energy. “My time and the stupid bokal? You think that’s why I did it?”
I swallowed hard, my knees quivering from his intensity. “I…uh, yeah.”
He jammed his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots. Was this going to be the last time I saw him? Would he be offended if I asked him to stay for a while?
From the wild look in his face and flaring nostrils, I would probably get the one finger salute.
Etie shook his head. “You can be so damn hardheaded.”
My jaw dropped. “Me? Hardheaded?” Well if that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black.
Before I could get another word in, Etie’s lips crashed on mine.
The hot, intense moment lingered. The air sweltered, steamier than the road top after a summer storm. His tongue played chase with mine while his sweet cherry taste drove me wild.
I would forever be addicted to that taste.
Our bodies pressed together. Neither of us wanted an ounce of space to exist between us. The hard, ragged rhythm of our hearts matched our uneven breaths. If this was the last thing I experience before the voodoo king came for me, I could die happy.
Etie was intoxicating. Sinful. Wicked.
Everything about him made my blood hot. From his infuriating personality to the sultry side, and even the few glimpses of that sweet guy who took care of me. It all drew me in. He’d captured me, ensnared me the moment those different shaded irises seared into me from his porch.
Etie’s fingers curled in my hair, and I moaned at the sensations cresting over me. I wanted this to last forever and yet forever wasn’t long enough.
Nothing would be.
Too soon, Etie pulled back, resting his forehead on mine. His lips were wet and swollen from our kisses. “This is why I did it, Angeline.” His husky whisper sent a thrill through my belly.
“Oh.” Deep down I had hoped Etie was helping me because he cared, not because he wanted to find the bokal.
Too bad it wouldn’t save me.
“It still doesn’t change what I have to do, Etie.” Oh man did I want it to.
The tendons in his jaw flexed. “Why do you have to sacrifice yourself for her? Do you think your life is worth less than hers? Do you think no one will miss you?”
A groan left my mouth. He was making this so much harder than it already was.
I shook my head. “No, I—”
My words were cut off as his lips covered mine again, stealing my sanity and all the reason I had left.
I didn’t want to leave this world behind. I didn’t want to give my soul to Baron Samedi. And least of all, I didn’t want to give up this feeling Etie sparked inside me. But what kind of a person would I be if I left my sister at the mercy of the voodoo king when I could have prevented it?
Etie would do the same for his brother. He had to understand.
“Don’t leave me, Angeline,” he murmured, his lips still caressing mine. “Not when I just found you.”
A fist tightened in my chest at the bittersweet moment. He was lifting all my doubts about him and making me fall twice as hard. My body trembled against his, and I wanted nothing more than to give into my own desires. I longed for Etie in every way.
“Your soul shouldn’t belong to the baron.” He nibbled on my bottom lip, shooting sparks behind my lids. “It’s too precious. Too sweet. If I could have…”
His body froze, his fingers tightening around my hips. “Oh mon Dieu. That’s it.” He pulled back, his wide eyes regarding me in wonder. Something had happened in that strange mind of his. “The answer was right in front of me this whole time,” he whispered.
I licked his taste from my lips, unable to get enough.
So addicted.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
A rough laugh slipped from him. “I know how to save you.”
He was losing his mind. “Didn’t we already have this conversation? Marisol will die if I break—”
Etie pressed a warm finger to my lips. “I know what Papa Legba was trying to tell us.” He shook his head, his gaze staring passed me. “He must have known the baron would take Marisol if I broke the deal. He was trying to tell us there was a way to save your gwo-bon ange without actually severing the deal with Baron Samedi.”
My fingers curled in his shirt, tension weaving through my body. “How is that even possible?”
The corners of his lips twitched. “Papa knew I’d do it. He knew even then I’d take the consequences.”
I stepped back as cold seeped down my spine. “Wait. What consequences?”
Etie’s hands gripped my hips and tugged me back. “Every spell has a price. Whether it’s something as simple as blood and energy or something more permanent. A price must always be paid.” Etie tilted my chin up, his index finger gently stroking my jawline. “Don’t worry, cher. This ain’t so bad.”
The porch spun. Baron Samedi wasn’t someone to be messed with. He was a voodoo loa, a deity for crying out loud. He wasn’t going to be happy when he found out Etie was able to stop him from taking my soul.
“What if he hurts Marisol anyway?” My voice trembled as images of the voodoo king haunting her flooded my mind.
A line formed between Etie’s brows. He knew my fears weren’t unjustified.
His grip slipped off, and he paced the length of the porch. He whipped out a lollipop from his pocket, shoving it in his mouth as he thought. The sun dipped behind the horizon, painting the sky with a rainbow of blues, purples, and pinks. Crickets chirped, filling the heavy silence between us. Soon, it would be night. And then day.
And then my birthday.
Finally, after what felt like forever, Etie halted. He marched toward me until our bodies brushed together. “I can do a protection spell on her.” He nodded more to himself than me. “Unless she calls for Baron Samedi herself, he won’t be able to touch her.”
A breath of relief shot out of my lungs so violently I crashed into Etie. His arms engulfed me, tucking me against his chest.
I was going to be free of this damn deal, and my sister was going to be safe.
Etie’s gaze lingered over the house behind us. “We need to do the spell here. It’s where most of her presence in Carrefour is. It’s the second best thing to Marisol participating.”
“We can do it in the attic,” I said.
His eyes found mine, the irises shimmering with warmth. “After I do this spell for your sister, promise me you’ll let me perform the one to save you.”
“Tell me what the price is? What are these consequences?”
Nothing could be as bad as what I had bargained with when I was ten.
His fingers brushed a lock of hair from my face. “Don’t worry about that, cher. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Just promise me,” he pleaded.
“I promise.” The words easily tumbled from my mouth as if he’d used magic to pull them out. The challenging look he wore told me I couldn’t take them back.
Chapter 26
I obscured the pentagram with boxes so Etie wouldn’t see it. I didn’t know what possessed me to keep it a secret from him of all people. Maybe it was the distant voice in my head that kept whispering things I didn’t want to hear.
Or maybe I was just paranoid.
Instead, I cleared a space out toward the back. Etie had returned and was drawing symbols in white chalk along the wooden floors. My mother and Abuela were in the house somewhere. I really hoped they didn’t get the sudden urge to visit the attic. I’d have a hell of a time explaining Étienne Benoit much less all the voodoo crap about to go down.
“Did you get what I asked for?” Etie pulled out a small drum from his book bag.
My brow arched. “How loud is that thing going to be?”
He smirked. “Just light taps, cher. This isn’t like what you’ve seen before. This is a simple protection spell. Very powerful, but tame.”
I handed him a sandwich bag of hair from Marisol’s brush, her favorite necklace, and the teddy bear she still slept with. “You’re not going to burn all that stuff, right? Because you wouldn’t need to worry about the voodoo king taking my soul if Marisol found out I destroyed Mr. Tuddles. She’d kill me herself.”
Etie pulled out two small gourds. “The bear and your soul will be safe. The only thing that’ll be burned is the hair.”
Well, that was a relief.
“Make sure to stay outside the circle, Angeline.” Etie pushed me back until my toes were several inches from the white chalk. He handed me the small gourds. “Shake these when I tell you, okay?”
“Got it.” I grabbed his arm before he turned away. “After all of this is over, we’ll find that bokal for you. You won’t have to use your magic or fight the balance inside anymore.”
Etie’s eyes quickly flicked away. “Let’s not worry about that right now.” He sat in the center of the circle.
Chills skittered over my skin as he began to gently tap the drum in a slow rhythm. The pile of Marisol’s things sat in front of him. He’d already poured some herbs and other ingredients into a bowl.
The chant was deep and gentle, softly pulsing through the air. Energy filled the attic, crackling across my skin. My scalp tingled while my senses came alive.
Etie took out a knife, slicing the tip of his finger without so much as a wince. Red pooled and then dripped into the bowl. Black smoke curled up, and a metallic scent hit the air. He shifted toward me, one eye the color of glowing moss and the other a burning sapphire blue. “Match my tempo.”
I swallowed the nerves down and shook the gourds. Etie’s reassuring smile gave me courage as more chants flowed and his body swayed to the beat. Most of the voodoo I’d seen had been terrifying. Not this. Etie looked right at home. Something was comforting in it. Right.
He sat down the drum but motioned for me to continue shaking the gourds. Marisol’s hair finally joined the other ingredients in the bowl, the smoke shifting and turning into a silvery white. Etie held it over the pile of her possessions, wafting the cloud over them with his hand.
Heat unexpectedly raced up my back. I spun around. The faded lines of the pentagram were glowing between the boxes.
Oh crap.
Dread coiled deep in my stomach, and my legs began to tremble. Electricity spiked, tiny pops traveling over my arms.
“It’s done.”
Etie’s voice had me snapping in his direction. His head tilted as he surveyed me. “What’s a matter with you?”
The lights violently flickered above, and Etie was on his feet in seconds. His gaze landed on the glowing lines of the partially hidden pentagram. “What is that?”
All the moisture was sucked from my mouth. “I-It’s a pentagram,” I admitted. “I found it earlier.”
His luminescent eyes met mine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrugged. “I just…” I trailed off, unable to find answers that weren’t there.
Etie took the gourds from me, placing them on the ground. Wind shifted through the air, and he tensed. His eyes traveled the attic, his nostrils flaring as if he sensed something he didn’t like. “We should get out of here. Now.” He clutched my hand and pulled me toward the door.
We didn’t make it far when the boxes still obstructing the pentagram slid across the floor in one synchronized move.
My sharp breath echoed through the room, and I froze. The three crescent moon symbol blazed brighter than everything else. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. The lines rippled and glittered. Curled and pulsed. Power, it was all it said.
I could hear Etie speaking, but his voice was distant and hazy.
I knew that symbol. It called to me. Beckoned me closer.
Energy crackled and hissed in the atmosphere, and my hair blew around my face. My hand slipped out of Etie’s, and before I realized it, I was kneeling in front of the intertwined moons.
“Angeline, wait…”
I ignored his warning, my fingers reaching out to touch them as they had at Madame Monnier’s occult shop.
Only this time, I wasn’t scared.
And this time, a spark wasn’t what ignited when I finally connected.
A swell of power hit me full force, blinding light exploding. My flesh should have burned right off. My organs should have melted like cheese in a microwave. Singed ash should be all that remained of my hair.
And yet I was still intact.
Strange symbols and unfamiliar words mixed with English and Spanish twisted through my mind. A shelf of leatherbound books inlaid with gold appeared. Candles dripped wax on wooden floors and tabletops. Their flames glinted off the sharp edges of crystals in every shade of the rainbow. Dried herbs hung on walls, and mysterious jars lined more shelves.
Fire and smoke perfumed the air. My father’s laughter echoed. And then grew dim.
Worry. Something was wrong.
Familiar hands drew shapes on the floor in chalk. The five points of a pentagram. Three crescent moons. Glyphs.
I sat in the middle.
Voices rose. Chanting.
Too much power for her. Too much at stake. Danger.
Was I in danger?
A thunderous snap echoed, and my body was tossed back. Something hard and familiar caught me before crashing into the attic wall. The flood of energy dissipated, and the jumble of words left my ears.
The visions faded.
But the memories remained.
“Angeline!” Strong arms held me up. “You okay, no?”
The pentagram and the interlocking crescents slowly darkened into faded paint. I began putting details together, things I ignored.
The symbol, the flickering lights, the electrical malfunctions, my father’s picture, Marisol’s dream…
What I saw moments ago had been real. It was a muddled mess of things, but the message was clear.
I was one hundred percent sure I’d been lied to my entire life.
The attic door burst open as my mother sprinted in, followed by my grandmother, and lastly Marisol. My sister was the only one surprised by the pentagram on the floor and the moon symbol matching the necklace she still wore.
My eyes went straight to Abuela’s, the guilt overshadowing everything else in them. “What is going on?”
Chapter 27
The lights above flickered as hot energy crackled down my shoulders. Etie felt it, his arms tightening around my waist in response.
“Answer me!” A dusty lamp near the door exploded, and Marisol’s scream pierced the dim room.
“Angel, sweetheart.” A tight smile formed over my mother’s face. “Calm down.” He
r auburn hair was frazzled, and she was still in her scrubs.
My nostrils flared. “Calm down? Are you joking?”
Abuela held a hand in the air, halting the conversation. “It’s okay. We’ll tell you the truth, niña.” Her dark gaze flickered toward Marisol. “Both of you.”
My mother grabbed Abuela’s arm, panic rising in her face. “Millie, no.”
Her hand flew to the faded pentagram and me. “It’s no use, Erica. Evangeline’s binds are in tatters. It’s barely concealing her now.”
“Binds?” The word squeaked out.
Etie and I traded glances, both thinking of the binds the voodoo king had put around me.
All the blood drained from my mother’s cheeks, leaving her looking ill. Her breath shuddered. “No. That can’t be…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“Marisol, Evangeline.” Abuela clasped her hands behind her to mask the trembling.
If Millagro De la Mora was shaking, this was bad.
She licked her lips and swallowed hard, stalling. She cleared her throat. “You girls come from a long line of brujas. You’re witches.”
Well damn. Way to rip the bandaid off. Could my life get any more surreal?
With my luck probably.
A barking laugh exploded from Marisol, her head tilted back and her hand clutching her stomach.
I was glad someone found the humor in this.
When she discovered no one else was laughing and the room was still filled with heavy tension, she halted. Her dark eyes blinked in Abuela’s direction. “You’re shitting me, right?”
Her brow arched. “I shit you not.”
Her gaze sought me out, realization crossing her features. “The dream I told you about”—she glanced at the pentagram—“it was real?”
“Sounds like it.” The energy around me crackled again.
“Calm down, cher,” Etie whispered. “You don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“That Benoit boy has no business being here,” my mom hissed, shaking an accusing finger at him. “He should—”