Did she want him to cry? It certainly felt like it.
Returning to him, she leaned down to press her lips to his, at once soft and tender, a perfect contradiction to her earlier roughness. She settled over him, her body tightening around him, and a long moan escaped his lips. When he opened his eyes, he found her gazing down at him, her gray eyes alight with mischief, but as he watched, they shifted. Desire turned them graphite, but something else shone from deep inside. Something he was afraid to see, acknowledge, despite his own solidifying emotions.
Her movements were slow, teasing once more, her gaze not leaving his. She rested her hands against his chest for balance, squeezing his hips with her thighs. When she stopped, her brows drew together, mouth parting as if she wanted to say something. Her lips pressed together, the moment passing, and Luke couldn’t stand it any longer.
Flipping her around, he buried his face in her hair even as he drove himself into her. Every pretense of control vanished, and a gasp, followed by a low mewl, sounded in his ear. Rowan clung to him, keeping up even as her body quaked with release.
Sweat dampened his skin, his heart and breathing continuing to roar. Dimly aware of tears against his face, he faltered to kiss them away. Her sigh and the press of her lips to his incited him to heighten her senses, strive for her completion. Only after he’d pushed her over the brink a second time did he allow himself to follow.
He cuddled her close, kissing her perspiring brow, relishing their nearness. When he felt her body relax in slumber, Luke weighed everything within. He’d never considered he could reach this point with another woman. For years it seemed impossible, but now, as he gazed down at Rowan, the sweep of her shimmering red hair covering half of his chest, he wondered if he’d unconsciously permitted life to begin again.
And he wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or terrified.
****
Luke blinked hard, trying to focus on her shadow as she moved around the room. Confusion addled his brain, and he turned to squint at the clock beside him.
2:57 glowed back at him.
“Rowan?” His voice felt gravelly, mind still murky with sleep. “Is everything all right?”
The shadow stilled as if he’d startled her and only through the scratching of instinct at the base of his brain did it occur to him that everything was definitely not all right. He rolled quickly at the sudden attack but not enough to avoid the blow. A flare of intense pain shot across the side of his head, setting off a popping of bright lights within his field of vision as he hit the carpet. When they faded, he dimly watched through cracked eyes as the small shadow went about its business as if nothing had occurred. Shock and terror for Rowan coursed through him before the roll of darkness pulled him into oblivion.
****
With movements not her own, she dropped the flashlight and finished dressing, pulling on previously laced sneakers in addition to the jeans and hoodie she’d already donned. Shaking, she wanted to go to Luke, but her body wouldn’t obey. Her mind begged, pleaded for him not to be dead.
Scalding tears erupted from her eyes as she stepped over him and slid through the darkness, trying to fight the mechanical contractions of her muscles. Any screaming she might have done was buried under the heavy suffocation of her will.
Roses wafted around her at the top of the staircase, cooling into biting cold when she pushed through. She silently cried for help, and thought she felt, for the briefest of instances, a light comforting stroke across her cheek, and then nothing.
Descending the steps, her head whipped from side to side, the portal of her eyes wary despite her personal knowledge that other than Luke, no other living human currently existed within the tavern. Her body stopped short at the barricade of chairs and tables before the front door. Two more barstools slid across the worn floor as she watched, and a growl not her own rose from her chest.
Checking the heavy metal backdoor, she found it buried under an avalanche of janitorial supplies and metal shelving.
Pivoting, she headed to the kitchen and pulled a rarely used cast-iron skillet from a lower cupboard and a towel from an adjacent drawer. With jerky, restrained movements, she climbed atop the counter and slammed the cookware into one of the narrow windows above, shattering the glass with ease.
The sudden gust of frigid, otherworldly wind struck her in the face and she bent forward, narrowing her eyes against it. Using the towel, she pushed away residual glass from the frame before pulling herself up to wriggle through the small opening. Even as small as she was, it was a struggle, her body bruised and scraped by the time she was forced through. Rowan landed in a heap on the other side, protecting her head but rapping her shoulder and hip against broken macadam.
Eyes blurry with tears of fear and pain, she pushed to her feet, shoes making little sound against the deep silence of a sleeping neighborhood. Somewhere west of her, the low roar of Bourbon Street met her ears, but the lurid dissonance was much too far to help her. Muscles heavy and numb, she walked toward the next block, head fixed straight ahead. She plodded from shadow to streetlight and back again.
The old SUV was parked a few yards beyond the intersection, and as she approached, the driver leaned over and shoved open the passenger door.
When she climbed in, she didn’t want to look at him, tried to keep from doing so, but she was unable. As if someone had grasped her chin and jerked her head, she found herself staring at Marcus Ady.
Brilliant, unblinking green eyes looked back at her from hollowed sockets. Crumpled, sagging skin hung from a face ravaged by disease, and ill-fitting clothes billowed around a weak frame. When he smiled, the scream inside her head was deafening, but not a sound passed from between her still lips.
He reached over to fasten her seatbelt. “Can’t have you damaged. We have to leave the city.”
She continued to watch him, body trembling and blood racing in heated panic. He pulled from the curb and she envisioned herself flinging the door upon and tumbling out before the truck could pick up speed. Despite the pandemonium in her head, Rowan’s body continued to betray her, her hands resting boneless in her lap.
“Interesting side effects, don’t you think? I hope you enjoyed yourself. You and Mr. Meunier … well, initially at least. You should have seen how the drug affected my goats.” The man laughed heartedly in the dark and then his voice went matter of fact. He shrugged. “The thing about sex is it makes a man vulnerable.”
He let the comment hang and Rowan closed her eyes, anguish razor sharp and biting before pure rage filled her. This man had infused himself within the physical act of her love for Luke, tainting it with his own nefarious motives.
Sweating with effort, she used that anger to push outward, finding hope when she managed to clench her fists, even weakly. They tingled and ached with the ferocity of awakening nerves. Surprised, she cut the driver a peripheral glance, trying to deduce if he’d noticed. His gaze pressed straight ahead, concentrating on guiding the SUV through the city and onto the interstate.
Channeling her fear and rage, she focused on slowly bringing her body under her own control.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Luke awoke with the mother of all headaches, opening his eyes and closing them quickly as his head pounded and stomach rippled.
Somehow he’d landed on the floor, his cheek pressed to the carpet, one arm curled under him, dead, the other splayed out. With effort, he rolled onto his side and took another moment to push into a sitting position. The room tilted and he pressed the heel of his hand against his head, startled when it came away wet. He stared at the dark splotches in confusion.
Memory twisted with pain, and horror had him lurching to his feet, only to drop to his knees when his body dissolved beneath him. Blinking hard, his gaze fell on the heavy flashlight lying a few feet away. Sickness crept up the sides of his belly and beads of sweat rolled into his eyes. Trying again, he managed to push up onto the bed before struggling to stand again.
“Rowan!” he roar
ed, wincing when the sound bounced inside his throbbing skull. He tried not to retch.
Pulling on his jeans, he used furniture to brace himself, stumbling through the open apartment door. He dimly noted Josephine’s scent before grabbing the banister to work his way downstairs without tumbling and breaking his neck.
He screamed her name again, quickly blinking away the spread of darkness behind his eyes. Glancing to the right, he saw the barricade by the backdoor and staggered ahead, stopping and almost falling just before the pile of furniture by the front.
Breathing hard, he contemplated a few moments before returning the way he’d come and careening through into the kitchen. A cool night breeze fluttered against his face from the broken window. He stared at the small opening, not doubting she’d been able to wriggle through, but certain it had been an uncomfortable, probably painful, squeeze.
Heart thrashing, he worked his way past the kitchen to the bar to grab the landline. For the longest moment, he stared at it, unable to remember the number he needed, before it occurred to him to check numbers dialed. With an unsteady hand, he pressed what he needed, concentrating on the steady ringing, praying David would pick up, praying it wasn’t too late for Rowan.
“This better be good, ’cuz I’m not on duty for another four hours,” the man mumbled, voice thick with sleep and annoyance.
“Dave, it’s me.” Luke kept his hand pressed to his head in a possibly futile attempt to keep it from falling off.
His friend’s tone changed in an instant. “What happened?”
“I don’t think your mother’s protection spells worked.”
Dave remained silent at the other end for one long moment before repeating his initial question. “Luke, what happened?”
“Um…” He paused, remembering the large flashlight on the upstairs carpet. “I don’t think Rowan would normally hit me with a blunt instrument and take off. I know I tend to piss her off at times, but whacking me one still seems out of character.” His voice slid into a tunnel and he made another conscious effort to pull his murky brain together.
“Shit. You need an ambulance?”
“No, I just need to find her.” He expected he had a concussion but didn’t give a flying fuck. Despite the spinning of his head, fear for her made it and everything else insignificant.
“Okay, we’re on our way.”
Luke disconnected and worked his way to the front, intending to remove the barricade. Dully, he watched chairs and tables slide away.
“Thanks, guys,” he heard himself mutter from a distance before the room tilted to knock him off his feet again.
****
Luke opened his eyes to the sound of the front door opening. He hadn’t been able to unlock the door and it took him a blurry moment to remember he wasn’t ever alone in the old building. At least not really.
Confused, he rolled onto his side, looking up to see Ruth and David Leroux stepping across the threshold. For the first time in memory, the woman looked old.
“Dear God!”
David crouched beside him, curling his hand around Luke’s bare shoulder.
Any other time he would be self-conscious without a shirt, but he threw it aside before the discomfort could even hook into his brain. “I’m okay.”
The man frowned, dubious. His gaze flicked back and forth between Luke’s eyes, apparently looking for abnormalities. “You should get checked.”
“No, I have to find Rowan.” He sat up, waited for the swooping in his head to pass, and got to his feet with Dave’s help, stopping to stare at the woman.
Face ashen, Ruth turned the way they’d come and kneeled down to remove the rubber mat and sweep the thick line of salt away from the front door. “Go. We’ll follow you.”
“Mama?” Dave frowned down at her, disquiet creased deeply into his features. “What are you doing?”
“He knows. He’s going to her.”
“Who knows?” Luke angled his head, frowning.
“Jimmy … Timothy.” She gasped, the sudden chill around them bringing it out in a huff of vapor. She whispered, face slack in shock. “Both of you?”
“What?” Luke glanced at David, brain still muddled and unfocused. Anger and frustration layered onto his cold fear.
“She’s not talking to us, man.” He turned to study his mother, expression watchful, expectant.
Ruth stiffened and shuddered and when she pivoted to face them, her eyes and expression had gone blank. Her words, however, weren’t. “C’mon, you two. David, help that boy. We have to go now.” She walked out the door, spine yardstick straight.
“Shit.” David stared and pressed his palm to his forehead.
“There’s something wrong with her.” Luke wavered and his friend slid forward to steady him before pulling him along.
“Yeah, there is. Mama’s housing one of your spirits.”
****
They’d left the freeway miles back, now twisting and turning on back roads barely wider than the old SUV. Headlamps lit their direction, while the three-quarter moon above dusted thick and knobby, bald cypress trees in an eerie, pale glow.
Rowan tried to keep track of every turn, but each one had little marker she could distinguish. As a city girl, her directions consisted of buildings and landmarks, not trees, brush, wetlands, and wildlife. Lost and turned around, she decided to instead concentrate on residential lights.
But those had become few and far between as the SUV tires continued to bump and shimmy along the uneven road.
With effort, she isolated and flexed every muscle she could. They didn’t like it, protesting with jabbing pins, but persistence made them acquiesce to her. Rowan could only hope they’d be strong enough. She’d come to the obvious conclusion that she would have to save her own ass. There’d be no Calvary riding in to the save the day. She was on her own.
“We are almost there.” The man flashed a huge smile at her. “It’s not much, but I find it comfortable and of course the swamp has its own beauty. In the morning or evenings, I can step out on my deck and see any number of wild creatures. Of course, sometimes they might wind up on the menu, but mostly I like to watch them lumber along, doing what they’re doing. They have a very simple mindset. Survive and procreate. Humans are no different. Oh, we like to pretend we are, with our technology, fancy clothes, and cars, but when it comes down to the baser instincts, we’re just animals.”
He reached over to pat her leg and she winced in recoil and disgust.
Ady went on as if having a pleasant two-sided conversation. If he noticed anything from her, he gave no indication. “No, girl, we all fight to live and breed. I never had children myself, though. My wife and I couldn’t. I buried her years before you were even born. I suppose I could have tried again, but I’m a one-woman man. There’s just no one else I could ever want.”
What was the purpose of even going on if there was nothing to look forward to? Was it habit, or fear of the unknown? She found herself trying to form the words but let them die in her throat. Horrified to feel a thread of sympathy, Rowan batted it away to work on her muscles, work on her breathing, and calm her heartrate. Compassion or not, she knew she’d soon have to fight.
He turned one more time, guiding the SUV toward a house little more than a shack. It rose on stilts, backing against thick foliage. When he cut the engine, the thick musk and earthy smell of swamp pressed in from around them. “All right, this is it. Quite isolated, I know, but I like it that way. From here, most directions will bring you eyeball to eyeball with gators, water moccasins, even black bears. Every year we hear about some tourist losing themselves, dying in all kinds of unfortunate ways. It’s never pretty.”
Ady climbed out and came around to open the passenger door. Leaning in, he touched her face and smiled. “Huh. I can see you in there. I have to say I’m quite impressed. Most people are urinating themselves at this point, but not you. You’re scared, I know, but my, what a temper! It’s keeping you from turning into a little puddle of terror.
” He laughed. “Listen to me. I’m suddenly quite the poet.”
Her respiration stayed fast and shallow, perspiration gleaming against her fair skin. Her eyes rolled toward him, away, and back. He tilted his head, studying her, mood sobering. “You may not believe this. Of course you wouldn’t. But I am sorry. You shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of your family, but unfortunately for you, if it’s between your life and mine, I’m going to choose mine. It always goes back to that survival instinct I mentioned.”
A solitary tear tracked down her face and he gently brushed it away with his thumb. “None of that, child. You were doing so well. You have to trust me. Once you go under, I promise you won’t feel a thing. Now, come with me. I have preparations to make.”
****
He took her arm and pulled her from the SUV and toward the little house. Ady guided her up the back stairs, noting the movements of her body. They were still wooden, jerky, but less so.
The drug in her system would wear off shortly, so she would need to be subdued while he prepared for the ceremony. But that was okay. She didn’t worry him. Soon he’d be back to his old self. He smiled in anticipation. He’d shed this horrible weakness like a snake discards its old skin.
And afterward, like all the others, he’d let the gators have her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The house wasn’t any more inviting on the inside than it was on the outside. A cheap, fiberboard coffee table and end tables perched before and next to a worn floral sofa, while a card table and folding chairs filled the small dining room. Blank walls reflected scuffed plank floors with no area rugs. Rowan didn’t even see a television or stereo. It wasn’t a home, only a place to step in out of the rain, as far as she could tell. She would have found it depressing at any other time.
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