by J. N. Colon
The vivacious blare of trombones was coupled with lively laughter. Cigar smoke and rum perfumed the air. That was never a good sign.
Soon, the fog began to lift. A scene ripped right out of a morbid fairy tale emerged.
The clinking of glass bottles echoed as people danced and drank. They dressed in period clothing or styles from the roaring twenties. A long table stretched in the center, black silk and lace adornments mixed with twisted silver candelabras. The flamboyant guests sitting in high back winged chairs ravaged a smorgasbord of food, guzzling wine and liquor from crystal goblets.
I was looking at a demented version of the tea party in Alice In Wonderland. And Baron Samedi sat at the head of the table, voodoo’s very own Mad Hatter.
He spread his arms wide. “Welcome to my kingdom, the spirit world.” His deep, ominous greeting curled out like thick smoke.
Bile coated my esophagus, and I swallowed repetitively to keep from hurling on my own feet. I wiped my cold, clammy hands on my shorts. “I’m dead.”
Baron Samedi banged his fist against the table, rattling the dishes as his laughter grew manic.
Totally the Mad Hatter.
His guests joined in.
“Oh no, chil’.” He puffed on a cigar, blowing smoke rings over the table. “You’re alive and well. Just the way I want you.”
Knots formed in my stomach at his cryptic words. I touched my chest. It was firm and solid.
How was I in the spirit world then?
My gaze regarded the party guests who looked pretty damn solid too, but they were, in fact, dead.
As if they sensed my attention, several began to dance around me. Chants fell from their lips.
Gwo-bon ange se li. Gadò moun ki mouri ar. Ou pa ka chape anba.
It was the same mantra I’d heard plenty of times these past few weeks. Even in my nightmares.
These were Baron Samedi’s voodoo spirits.
As they danced, the beat of a drum joined the trombone. Their movements were slow and provocative, taunting me. A man dressed in a pinstriped suit, vest, and hat skimmed his fingers over my back before squeezing my ass.
I whipped around, glaring. Fiery heat coiled in my chest. He was the sick, sadistic one that attacked me at the Leroux house. He was the one that had violated me and would have done worse if Etie hadn’t come.
“Don’t be so sour.” A woman in a black flapper dress twirled, her long cigarette almost singeing my hair. “If you remove that stick up your ass, you might enjoy yourself.”
“Yes, ma chère.” Another woman appeared, her full silk and chiffon skirt brushing my legs. “It’s a party. Eat, drink, and be naughty.” Peals of laughter rolled from her scarlet painted mouth.
Without warning, someone grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. The cold glass of a bottle was pressed against my lips. I squirmed as rum was poured into my mouth.
The flapper woman cackled as she released me, the male spirit in the pinstriped suit her accomplice. Only some of the liquor had managed to slide down my throat, burning all the way to my stomach.
The other was still captured in my mouth. Not for long.
I breathed deeply through my nose and spit it into his face. And then, I kicked the evil flapper woman in her shin.
The baron slapped the table, booming laughter ringing through the night. “Oh, Eve-angel-ine. I like you. We’re going to get on fine.” He picked up a goblet, swallowing a massive sip before slamming it down. “You got fire in you, girl. Much more than anybody realizes.”
I roughly wiped my face with the back of my hand. “What are you going to do with me?”
His head tilted to the side. “All in good time, cher.” He motioned toward the table and the dancing guests. “Enjoy the party. Enjoy the spirits.” He winked. “All of them.”
The little rum that I had swallowed threatened to shoot up my throat. “No thanks.”
My gaze regarded the foggy, macabre cemetery. Baron Samedi’s twisted Alice in Wonderland party couldn’t be all there was to the spirit world. The rest of the dead had to be somewhere.
Since the voodoo king owned my soul, I was betting they were somewhere I’d never go. I was his prisoner. Forever.
A tall, foreboding iron gate loomed in the distance, mist weaving through the long spindles. Was that the entrance to the rest of the spirit world, or was it the doorway to the living?
“Can I see my father?” The tiny shred of hope was quickly obliterated by the baron’s cruel chuckle.
“Girl, your father ain’t anywhere near here.” He slurped up a long string of spaghetti. Or it could have been a writhing worm for all I knew.
My soul would never make it to the final resting place where my father was. I was trapped in this nightmare with the depraved partygoers and dancing prostitutes. Was I destined to become one of the baron’s cruel voodoo spirits?
My eyes traced the gate again, my legs itching to make a mad dash. Anywhere had to be better than this.
“Oh, cher, so young and naïve.” He flicked a hand toward the gate. “You won’t make it halfway before my spirits snatch you. And then, for your punishment, I’ll let them have a little fun.” He leaned forward, slowly running a finger over the rim of his goblet. “They like you, remember? And they want to play.”
His meaning was clear. He was the only thing standing between the freaky desires of his spirits and me.
My body weighed two hundred pounds, and my knees could barely keep me upright. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. Most of all, I wanted to bash the voodoo loa’s head in with one of the many rum bottles littering the ground.
Why was he so determined to keep me? Why did I deserve such a tortured afterlife? I didn’t ask for something selfish like fame or money. My sister alive and well was the only thing I wanted, and this was the price for it.
My eyes locked onto his, caramel brown against deep onyx. He’d purposefully answered my call that night instead of Papa Legba. Did he know I was some powerful bruja conduit? Did he make the deal because he wanted to use me, the very thing my family was afraid of?
Cold fingers twisted my gut in knots. Before I woke up in hell, the voodoo king said there weren’t many real coincidences in this world. This couldn’t be one of them either. There had to be a reason he didn’t kill me and take my gwo-bon ange to the spirit world. He took all of me.
A slow smile curled his lips as we continued the stare down. Was he silently admitting it and telling me there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it?
Fire sparked inside, melting the ice that had been slowly spreading through my veins. I was already screwed two ways from Tuesday. If there was a chance I could slip through that gate and find a way back to the real world, I should take it. If it led to the rest of the dead, I could find my father. He would help me.
I pivoted and took one step.
That was as far as I got before the ground rumbled.
My pulse spiked as I glanced over my shoulder, fully prepared for the baron to unleash his hellacious voodoo wrath.
Instead, his brow furrowed and his lips puckered in a frown.
He wasn’t the one causing the ground to quake.
A familiar rush of energy coasted along my skin, sinking through my bloodstream.
Etie.
His heady herbal scent filled my senses. That deep, enthralling voice surrounded me. A warm caress floated over my body. He was everywhere and nowhere.
The voodoo king shot to his feet, flames of hellfire dancing in his eyes. The white skull painted on his face altered, sharpening his features. Smoke curled between his gritted teeth. Shadows slithered around his shoulders, encasing him in murky darkness.
He perfectly embodied the dark side of voodoo.
“Where are you, pouvior bokor?” His head shifted from side to side and up and down, frantically searching between the fog and his party guests. “You can’t sneak into the spirit world. This is my world!”
Etie’s only answer was a chant, each syllable soaked in
power.
Mwen bay nanm mwen l '. Li nan kòb li. San mwen. San li. Lyen nou an gwo-bon ange letènite. De kòm youn. Pou tout ka kraze.
Electricity zapped down my spine, seeping into my nervous system. Ribbons of warmth wrapped around my core. Etie was reaching inside, flooding every part of me.
My entire body vibrated with power. Etie’s power. My power. Our energies wove seamlessly together.
A deep, guttural growl tore from the baron, stealing some of my bliss. He threw a goblet of rum, glass shattering on a tombstone. The music stopped, and the spirits near me began backing away. The party was over.
“She is mine!” Baron Samedi’s head tilted toward the sky, fists shaking. “You’re too late. You cannot have Evangeline. Her gwo-bon ange is mine!”
The ground heaved again, and I stumbled. As soon as I regained my balance, pain flared right above my collarbone.
It was white hot and blinding.
A scream bubbled up, tearing from my mouth. My knees crashed to the ground.
I clawed at the spot, expecting a vicious burn. Nothing was there. Nothing but agony.
It was ten times hotter than touching the crescent symbol in my attic. Acid was burning the flesh clean from my bones.
Baron Samedi’s bellow of fury did nothing to drown out my anguished cries. He gripped the edges of the table, flipping it so violently it splintered into a hundred pieces. Guests scrambled away from the flying trajectories of wood and glass.
“You thief.” His voice deepened to a chilling baritone. I would have been scared if not for the scorching spot on my collarbone ripping my insides apart. “Ou te vòlè li. Ansanm gwo-bon ange!”
I only recognized one word. Gwo-bon ange. Something was happening to my soul.
Baron Samedi marched toward me. The ground smoldered with each step. Fire burned, and smoke spiraled. “You will not take her.”
A ball of energy coalesced in my stomach. Two strong hands gripped my insides. Without warning, my body was yanked away from Baron Samedi seconds before his long fingers reached me.
I was hurtling toward the iron gates at breakneck speeds. Another scream clawed up my raw throat. The spirit world zoomed by, disappearing in a swirl of fog and darkness.
Chapter 30
The searing agony was gone. A familiar scent that was both comforting and thrilling twisted around me. A deep voice spoke, calling out to me while hands stroked my hair.
“Angeline. Angeline. Wake up, cher. Please.” A gentle shake was followed by soft kisses to my cheek. “Come on. Don’t be so damn stubborn. Wake up.”
My brow furrowed, and a tiny moan of protest escaped my lips. My lids fluttered, a pair of mismatched coming into view.
“Etie?” I croaked.
A deep sigh exited him, and his muscles loosened. “Angeline, welcome back to the world of the living.”
Memories swarmed me, dark, twisted and disturbing.
I was really tired of waking up to a rush of unwanted images.
I struggled into a sitting position in Etie’s lap, his arms unwilling to release me. My father’s headstone loomed behind him. Heady herbs, smoke, and fire scented the night.
“What happened?” My voice was raspy from screaming.
Etie’s hair was wild around his face, and his eyes were lit up like neon lights on a dark strip of road.
Magic and power.
It flooded the air, crackling over my flesh. It had never been this heavy before. Not even when he banished the baron from Marcus’s voodoo room.
It wove around me. Inside me.
Something else was different. Something embedded deep in my core. Warm. Familiar. Tingling.
A presence.
My eyes met those glowing orbs, a wild forest and untamed sea. The longer I stared, the more I began to feel him.
My gaze shifted down. A black tattoo with swirling shapes was stamped just above his collarbone about an inch and a half in diameter.
That hadn’t been there earlier.
My fingers drifted to the spot above my collarbone, the same spot my flesh had been melting off.
It was hot.
“I’m sorry about the pain,” Etie whispered, his expression twisting. He swallowed hard. “I-It couldn’t be helped.”
My pulse spiked. “What did you do?” Did I even want to know?
He chewed his bottom lip, hesitating. His eyes never left mine, holding me captive as his arms did. “It was the only way, cher. Nothing else would save you from Baron Samedi without breaking the deal.”
An invisible fist squeezed the organs inside my chest. “Just tell me.” How bad could it be?
“He bound your souls.”
Uh, what?
My head snapped up. A tall, slender man loomed above us, light brown eyes glowing eerily through the darkness. His skin was a deep shade of caramel, and dark brown curls surrounded a finely chiseled face. Fingers scratched the stubble on his chin, a silver snake ring glinting in the moonlight. The reptilian eyes glittered unnaturally.
Ghostly chills skittered down my spine, and it wasn’t because of the snake ring. This was Henri Benoit, Etie’s father.
Bastien stepped in front of him as if putting a barrier between their father and us.
The movement broke the strange distraction Henri Benoit’s presence created. And his words finally sunk in.
He bound your souls.
My breath hitched, and I searched Etie’s enigmatic eyes. “You bound our souls?” Hot shivers radiated through my body as I said it out loud.
Etie’s fingers traced over my jaw, his other arm still tight around me.
Was he afraid to let me go?
“It was the only way,” he repeated, his lids lowering as he leaned closer. “Baron Samedi can’t have your soul if it belongs to me.”
I stood in front of the antique gilded mirror in my bedroom, my fingers tracing the swirling symbol above my collarbone. My gaze continued to catch glimpses of Etie sitting on my bed.
Staring at him. It was a habit.
Less than twenty-four hours had passed since he yanked me out of the spirit world with his soul-binding spell. Having me trapped in another realm turned what would have been an easy ritual for this pouvior bokor into a monstrous ordeal.
That was the reason he and Bastien needed another bokor’s help.
Etie summoned their father.
It was the last thing he wanted to do, and he’d done it for me.
And that wasn’t all.
Because our souls were connected, our magic was connected. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t take Etie’s powers from him. He’d given up his chance at peace. He would forever struggle with the balance of light and dark inside of him.
He’d done all this knowing my grandmother had tricked us and used him. We played into her hands, and she got what she wanted—me alive and well.
She hadn’t planned on me being connected to one of the most notorious citizens of our little town, though.
Neither had I.
“I still don’t understand what the soul bind means. How can we belong to each other?” My lips pursed. “It sounds kind of archaic if you ask me.”
Etie leaned back on his hands, his gaze never leaving mine. It had been that way since we returned from the graveyard. “It means our souls are tied together. Permanently.”
Permanently. That word never held so much weight.
“What should I expect?” The consequences he’d mentioned yesterday were binding our souls together and all that came with it. This link between us was a complicated thing. It stirred inside me as if alive. It flared to life when he was near.
And hated the thought of him leaving.
“Will there be side effects?” Was I going to develop some monster addiction to his touch? Would I crave it?
His head tilted to the side, surveying me. “Possibly.”
I dropped my hands with a huff. “Could you be more ominous and vague?”
The corners of Etie’s lips twitched. “Yes.
”
I rolled my eyes.
Despite the unknowns, one thing was for certain. We were in a mess of trouble. I, some powerful sought-after bruja conduit, was bound to a powerful sought-after voodoo pouvior bokor.
Trouble wasn’t simply on the horizon. It was the horizon.
“Angel, are you coming to dinner?” My mother’s voice echoed from the end of the hall.
My lips curled in a grimace, and the lights flickered. I really needed to learn to control that. “Nope!” I yelled back.
Abuela’s muttering seeped through my door as she stalked by.
I’d barely spoken more than a few words to them since they refused to tell me about my powers.
“You’re going to have to face them, cher,” Etie said. “You can’t avoid them forever.”
My eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do about Henri?”
His face turned to stone at the mention of his father. As we left the graveyard, the intimidating bokor made it clear he wasn’t leaving Carrefour yet. Part of me had a sinking suspicion he only helped because he wanted something from his sons, particularly Etie.
“Don’t speak of him,” he growled.
Shit. That was a low blow. What was wrong with me? Mentioning his father was like throwing battery acid on his wounds.
My gaze averted to the reflection of my bare feet. I hated he called him for me.
Etie sighed, and my bed creaked as he stood. “It was my choice to call him, cher. You had no say in the matter, and therefore, bare no fault.”
Could he feel the guilt eating at me?
I turned away from the mirror to face him directly. He studied my tattoo. A perfect replica was branded on him in the same spot. His fingers ran over the swirling lines on my skin. Tingles hummed across it from his touch, and a sound of pleasure exited my mouth before I could catch it.
Etie’s eyes brightened while a slow smile spread across his face. “I wonder what other noises I can get out of you tonight,” he whispered, his voice sending chills over my skin.
I gulped and tilted my head back as he came closer, helpless. “Don’t push me, buddy. I’ve got powers of my own now.”