She recalled her seekers and tried to return to reality. Her focus became cloudy as the fragrant fog surrounding them thickened and swirled up and down their bodies in sensuous eddies. She was drawn to the pool of liquid. It steamed and bubbled on the floor of her secret room and grew larger until it encompassed the entire floor space. She was conscious of an irresistible desire to fall into the warm fluid as she dropped Quinn’s hand and began removing her clothes. When she was naked, she fell into the pool which had grown bigger than her bath. She dropped into the milky liquid and allowed it to engulf her. She suddenly became aware of another presence in the bath with her. Quinn! And he was also naked.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. The kiss was like no other she’d ever experienced. His lips joined with hers. Their tongues touched and she threw her head back so he could kiss her throat and the nape of her neck. The liquid seemed heavier and thicker than water. She was unaccountably buoyant. They floated together with the warm fluid slopping across their bodies.
Quinn stopped kissing her throat and returned his mouth to hers. The kiss deepened, she closed her eyes and allowed him pull her into his lust-filled thoughts. She felt his erection as if it belonged to her and the overwhelming desire to bury it in her flesh. Their bodies were tightly pressed together in the liquid, floating, free of all thoughts but the desire to meld. Without thinking she spread her legs wide and invited him inside her.
He prolonged the moment by kissing her breasts. He sucked each nipple until it was long and sensitive. She moaned and clutched at him, her desire to feel him inside her reaching a painful peak. She wanted to experience the penetration from his viewpoint, wanted to feel the sensitive head of his organ open her lips and slide into her tight, velvety passage.
But instead of fulfilling this need, he held her with one arm and stroked her aching sex with a hard finger. She quivered beneath him and moaned into his ear. The warm liquid enveloped them and washed over them in thick waves like the fingers that had been searching for Fenix. This thought troubled her but she was too lost in the erotic moment and had not the strength to pull back. He threw one leg over her and guided his organ to her waiting opening. She felt the hard head of his cock slip through her well-lubricated lips and in the back of her mind, she knew it was wrong but could not stop it. When Quinn’s organ penetrated an inch, she felt him begin to burn. Her love for him was white hot and dangerous. Quinn was on the brink of igniting.
She tried to break away. “No, you’ll die,” she gasped.
“I’m burning!” Quinn screamed. He tried to pull away but could not. His cock was slowly sinking into her. She knew his death was only seconds away and could do nothing to save him.
Chapter 14
A big hand grabbed Quinn’s shoulder and pulled him out of the pool of liquid. “Mistress Bryn,” Fingle said in a mournful voice. “Don’t kill Master Quinn. We need him still.”
The erotic spell was broken. Bryn opened her eyes and saw Fingle’s sad face hovering over her offering her a towel. “Oh, Fingle, you saved him. What made you come down here? I particularly instructed you not to.”
“A huge dragon flew into the shop and blew his fiery breath. Everything in the shop was turned to cinders. The house would have burned as well, but you’d set that spell when first we moved here to repel fire. As it is, the front room is singed and there’s smoke damage in all the rooms.”
“No matter. I can soon put that to rights.” Bryn climbed out of the pool and tried to stand on weak legs. Her recent exertions had her dangerously depleted. Standing proved too hard and she had to grab Fingle’s arm. “Quinn?”
“I’m here, my darling, even though you tried to kill me.”
“I was overcome and weakened by the casting. You should not have been here. It was too dangerous.”
“At least I now know your warning is not fabricated to hold me at arm’s length.” He looked down his body at his privates. “No, you’re warning was all too valid, my love. Thanks to Fingle, I still have my manhood.”
She reached for him and he swept her into a tight embrace. “It would have engulfed you. Your entire body would have burned and you would now be dead.”
“Yes, my darling. I believe you.”
She wavered in and out of consciousness. Quinn saw her trouble and scooped her into his arms. “You’re too weak to stand. Fingle open the door and help me get your mistress up to bed.”
Her eyelids fluttered and she slowly was able to focus. His concerned face hovered close to hers. She reached up and touched it. “I forgot to tell you. I found her.”
Fingle opened the door and stood waiting. “You found Miss?”
Too weak to speak, she nodded.
“Of course you found her,” Quinn said. “However, you wore yourself out in the effort. I’m putting you to bed. You’re exhausted.”
It felt good to be held in his strong arms. The casting coupled with Quinn’s brush with death and her frustrated desire had drained all of her energy. She allowed him to carry her upstairs and to her bedroom. He laid her on the bed and knelt beside her. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, my love. After I rest for a bit, we must be after Fenix. The witch took her into the swamp. I feel sure she’s going to perform some kind of terrible ritual this night for the moon is full. I shudder to think of what will happen to poor Fenix.”
He lay down next to her and pulled her against his hard body. She snuggled close, so grateful he was still alive. His brush with death had been far closer than he knew. He was a second from bursting into flames. She tried not to think about how close she’d come to losing Quinn. He had become too important to her happiness. She’d allowed herself to fall in love with him. She held this warm feeling close to her heart and soon fell into a deep sleep with her head resting on his chest.
* * * *
Priest flew over the city of New Orleans in a black mood. Bryn was performing some magic ritual in her basement hole. She was hidden from his eyes but he could feel the white power swirling about her house. It felt like fingers crawling up his spine and all over his body. He shivered and flapped his black wings harder. He’d tried to burn her like the witch she was but she’d put some kind of spell on her residence and it would not ignite. His evil grin of satisfaction revealed row after row of sharp teeth. At least her shop was destroyed. But his efforts to discover where exactly Marie LeVeque planned to hold her ritual using the Coeur de Flamme had failed. All he knew was the general direction and that it was to be tonight, the night of the full moon, and it would be deep in the swamp. In this God cursed region of the world, that covered a lot of territory.
He spiraled down, fully aware it was a hazy afternoon and anyone bothering to look up could see him. He chose St. Louis Cemetery to land dropping swiftly from the sky, perching briefly on the top of one of the tombs and then swiftly transforming into his human form. After shaking out his robes and smoothing wild hair into a neat tail at the nape of his neck, he took off on sandaled feet for his home in the priests’ residence behind St. Louis Cathedral thinking all the way.
The voodoo priestess had Fenix. Bryn must have been performing a conjure to find her. This meant she would soon set out to rescue her sister. LeVeque had something terrible planned for the redheaded witch and Bryn would do everything in her power to stop it. And Bryn was after the stone for the same reasons he was. They both needed it badly. Bryn would stop at nothing to get it and save her sister.
If he could follow Bryn, he would kill two birds with just the one stone. He would have Bryn in his power and he would find the Coeur de Flamme. He extended one claw-like hand and flexed arthritic fingers. It would be so good to be a young man again, to feel the stirring of his organ as he had when he was eighteen, merely at the sight of a beautiful woman or for no reason at all; the power of a youthful erection. He sighed. If he couldn’t have that power, that wonderful feeling again, he preferred death. And if death was the answer to ending his curse, then so be it.
* * * *
/> Fenix stretched and tried to pull one hand free of the bindings that dreadful witch had wrapped around her body. Just one hand would mean freedom. She would fabricate a fire ball and burn them off. She squirmed, sucked in her breath so she was smaller and succeeded in moving her wrist, but in doing so she fell off the pew landing on her face. The hard landing had one consolation to offer, it had loosened her bindings another inch. She pushed herself up on her knees and stuck her butt in the air. She was on the filthy floor between pews three and four. When she stabilized herself, she rose high enough to look over pew three.
Her gasp of horror brought unwelcome notice. The witch had been standing naked in front of the upside down crucifix. She held a snake, a big reticulated, green and black, slimy snake. Its coils wrapped around her neck and its wide head was waving back and forth in front of LeVeque’s open legs. When LeVeque saw Fenix was still securely bound, she smiled and opened her sex so Fenix could get a better look as the snake slithered into her opening.
The huge snake’s head disappeared. LeVeque closed her eyes and swayed back and forth moaning and rubbing her swollen parts. A wave of intense sexual arousal hit Fenix causing her legs to weaken. LeVeque was using the snake to pleasure herself or in some perverted manner the snake was part of a disgusting ritual. Perhaps it was a little of both. Fenix dropped to the floor unable to watch as LeVeque’s moans became louder and more of the snake disappeared.
She increased her struggles to gain freedom, ignoring the discomfort. Now, while LeVeque was wholly engrossed in her perversion, was the time to affect her escape. With a cry of white hot pain, Fenix dislocated her shoulder and slipped her hand free. In a few agonized seconds, she was out of the bonds. She slammed her shoulder into the back of the pew which put the joint back to rights and then chanted a prayer of healing. Pain gone, she rose to peer over the top of the pew. LeVeque had dropped to the floor in front of her altar and was writhing in ecstasy. There was no sign of the snake, but poor Emile lay dead or comatose on the floor beside her.
Fenix dropped to her knees and began crawling toward the exit. It was dark outside. Soon the moon would rise and LeVeque would begin her terrible ritual. Emile would become a zombie. There was little Fenix could do to save him. He had already slipped beyond the first veil. She’d felt that when lying next to him. If LeVeque’s ritual did not revive him soon, he would follow the light and be gone forever.
When she reached the exit, she leaped to her feet and ran down the hill to the dock. The boat was gone. Damn! Double damnation. She paused on the dock uncertain of her next move. She didn’t have the strength to morph into a phoenix. She was weak, as Bryn said, too close to the end of her cycle. She wished for the millionth time she could remember her death and rebirth. But not being able to remember was part of the curse.
Since escape was out of the question, she needed to make a choice; hide and wait for her sister to come, which she surely would, or try to steal the stone. The shining emerald had not hung around LeVeque’s neck while she performed her recent disgusting ritual. That meant it was sitting somewhere, somewhere Fenix might be able to discover. If only she was a shapeshifter. She could turn herself into a mongoose or a weasel and sneak into the church to find the stone unseen.
Shaking her head and grinning ruefully, Fenix crawled out of the bushes. She’d made up her mind. LeVeque was distracted. Now would be the perfect time to search.
* * * *
Quinn galloped his big horse behind Bryn’s modified racing curricle. She drove like a crazy person in the lightweight carriage, determined to make up for the time she’d wasted by sleeping. He rode the horse around a narrow curve in the road and spotted water ahead. Bryn pulled her horse up at the end of a rickety dock and Fingle jumped out of the carriage. Quinn leaped down and tossed the reins to Fingle.
“Stable the horses behind the bar,” Bryn ordered him. “And quickly.”
Quinn stepped onto the dock. It swayed and groaned under his weight. A flat boat was tied to it along with a pirogue and a fishing boat, sails furled. “Where does this guy fish?”
“The lake,” Bryn said looking thoughtful. “We shall take the flatboat.”
“Bryn, that’s stealing.”
“No it’s borrowing. I shall return it.”
“So you say. I’m sure the owner will be glad to loan it to you if only he knew you needed it.”
“Now is not the time for sarcasm. Fenix could be dying alone without me. If we don’t hurry, Marie LeVeque will have her way and Fenix could die and be lost to me forever.” She groaned with frustration. “Why do I bother to talk to you? You do not understand.”
He stepped forward to offer comfort and she brushed him off. “Oh Quinn, do not touch me now. I am not safe.”
“I see.” Indeed she looked dangerous. When Fingle returned, they climbed into the flatboat. Fingle took up one pole and Quinn the other as Bryn loosed the ropes holding it to the dock. Quinn had never poled a boat while Fingle was apparently an expert. Quinn mimicked Fingle’s smooth motions as best he could and the boat moved down the sluggish channel. As the sun set and darkness fell over the bayou, a thick mist rose concealing the ribbon of black water.
Bryn sat in the rear steering with a large rudder. “Can you see to steer, my darling?” Quinn asked.
“I see well enough.”
“Then do you have a plan? What do we do when we get there?”
“It won’t matter if you don’t pole faster,” she complained. She suddenly slammed the rudder down. “Fenix will already be dead or turned into God knows what by that evil bitch if we continue at this sad pace.” She leaped to her feet. “We can’t wait. I must do something. Fingle, steer.”
“Yes, Madam,” the sad-faced man said and dropped his pole into the bottom of the boat.
Bryn waited until Fingle had the rudder in his capable hands. “Take a seat, Quinn. We are about to travel at a much faster speed.”
Quinn took her at her word, locked the pole into the boat’s well and sat on a seat. Bryn lifted her hands, closed her eyes and began whistling. The calm water of the bayou quickly developed ripples. The ripples grew into waves. The waves built behind the flatboat which suddenly shot down the bayou. Fingle struggled to steer. The rudder was like a living creature. He wrestled for control of it sometimes flying into the air as it swung wildly and the boat sped down the dark tunnel of water through dangling vegetation. When Fingle lost control for a moment, the boat climbed the bank, tore through vines, palmettos, scrub brush and shot back into the water sending a geyser exploding around them. Quinn hung on for dear life while Bryn stood like a statue, arms upraised, eyes closed.
Chapter 15
Priest followed Bryn’s curricle from high above the trees. He flapped slowly, swooping and catching the updrafts to soar with his wings outstretched. When the threesome below climbed into a flatboat and headed into the swamp on Bayou Tigre, he flew ahead. Traveling at the slow pace they were making in the boat, they would be at least an hour behind him.
He dropped low enough to fly under the tree canopy and follow the ribbon of black water. Ahead, a hill glowed with an unholy red light. A dock appeared as he rounded a corner. This had to be the place. He swooped to the top of a hill and saw an old church. A red light pulsed from the windows. Above, the full moon slowly rose above the tree line lighting the thick jungle a ghostly blue. Marie LeVeque must be inside this derelict church preparing to perform, or already performing, her terrible ritual. That meant the stone would be there.
Priest settled in the bushes, hissed the words of power and returned to his human form. He would miss flying when he broke the curse, but it would be worth it to have an organ as hard as a limb of mahogany. He decided to disguise himself. His priest persona had become too well known. He closed his eyes and transformed into a handsome young man with sleek black hair, a trimmed goatee and arched black brows. He wore a black formal suit with tails and a crisp white shirt. He hoped he would be welcome at the ritual. Marie seemed to like a handso
me man.
When he entered the church, he stood at the door hunting for Fenix. Marie had her here somewhere. This he knew. The pews were filled with darkies dressed in all manner of strange garb. He saw two white women and a light-skinned man. Maybe he would not stand out as being so different. He moved down the center aisle and took a seat in the second pew. He wanted to be able to see everything.
In front of him, a small dark-skinned woman wearing a colorful shawl and a red turban swayed to the music of a piano accordion and a drum. The beat was primitive and disturbing. When he glanced around, he saw all the people in the pews had their eyes closed and were waving their arms and swaying to the rhythms. Marie LeVeque, quite naked, stood in front of an upside down crucifix draped with a monstrous reticulated python. She offered a bowl to the statue of a dark-skinned god. Priest wrinkled his nose. There was blood in the bowl.
She spit into the bowl, held it out to the god, and then placed it in front of the statue. LeVeque lit a cigar, puffed until the end glowed, and offered this to the god. Then she picked up a bottle of whiskey, took a pull on it and sprayed the mouthful across the god’s face. When these three things had been offered, she began chanting. Priest noticed the huge black man lying in front of the altar for the first time. He appeared to be dead. When Priest concentrated on him, he detected no heartbeat, no pulsing of life blood through his veins.
Keyed to Sahir blood, Priest felt Fenix before he saw her. When he spread his consciousness abroad hunting for the source, he pinpointed it outside one of the windows. Was it Bryn or her sister? He closed his eyes. It was Fenix. The redheaded witch’s face was faintly visible behind the filth-encrusted glass.
The Flight of the Zeppelin Page 10