Simple? There was nothing simple about any of it. “Is that why this is happening? Why you’ve latched on to me—because I’m her?”
It had always about her. Never about me. I’d known that, and yet now this piece of information felt different.
“That is not true, Lucy,” he said, answering my unspoken accusations. “Perhaps fate has brought you here. Perhaps we knew each other once. Certainly, I loved you once. That I cannot deny, nor will I deny that a part of me will always love Armantine.” He paused and stared at me, willing me to understand. “But you are not her. She did not have your strength.” He smiled at me then. “Fate may give us opportunities, Lucy, but it does not control us. We make our own futures. We choose who we love.”
“It doesn’t feel like a choice,” I said. It felt like a trick—the dreams, the way I’d been lulled into feeling what Armantine believed. The day before, I’d thought I loved him of my own free will. Now I wasn’t sure.
“Love is always a choice, Lucy. Remember that. It isn’t a blind tying. If I loved Armantine once, if I love her even now, it has no bearing on what I feel for you. What you are to me.”
“Did you know who I was from the very beginning? What I’d done to you in the past?”
He nodded, and at first I was angry, but then I thought about all those times he’d held himself apart from me. The times he’d closed down his emotions so I couldn’t read the pain or the worry or the love in his eyes. And I understood.
“You gave me a choice, didn’t you?” He could have pursued me with an intensity that I wouldn’t have been able to refuse.
“It was all I could do, love.”
“No. That’s not true. You could have told me and forced my hand, but you didn’t.” I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that piece of knowledge, but I knew I had to keep it safe, hold it close, and maybe it would be enough of a tether to hold me when things threatened to overwhelm.
“I did that once before—pushed you before you were ready. Asked you to give up far more than was right. It is the reason everything else happened. This time, I forced myself to be patient. To give you the time you needed. This time, things had to be different.”
“She wanted to save you,” I told him.
“I know,” he said. “Through the haze of whatever was in that wine, I could hear everything. See everything. And I could do nothing to help her.” The frustration and desperation in his voice as alive as the energy thrumming between us. Then he smiled softly, as if remembering. “She fought like a wildcat.”
“It didn’t work,” I said numbly.
Although Armantine had tried to stop the two large men Thisbe brought that night to take Alex, it hadn’t done any good. The men easily pulled Armantine away from Alex and pinned her to the wall.
I’d awoken from the dream at that point, but I instinctively knew what came next. It made sense now. All those years I’d dreamed about drowning, it had always been her. And it had always been me. The overwhelming sense of guilt I always woke with made sense, too, now that I knew what she’d done. What I had done.
“Why don’t you hate me?” My voice shook and I couldn’t blink back the tears any longer. “You should hate me, Alex. You asked her for trust and she betrayed you. You asked her for love and she caused your death. How do you know I won’t do it again?”
“I’m not dead, Lucy.”
“That’s worse, though. Isn’t it?” I already knew the answer, but with a small jerk of his chin he confirmed it. I watched as his jaw tensed and he struggled to find the words he needed.
“I am not sure I can explain to you what it is like to live on for years beyond when I should have died,” he said.
“Thisbe hurt you by trapping you here.”
He looked at me, his eyes bleak. “Maybe, but when I’m with you, I can remember what I once was—what I want to be again.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before now?”
“You weren’t ready for more.” He smiled sheepishly. “It’s not the sort of thing that is easily believed.”
That much was true. If he’d told me that first day in the clearing that I’d been his love in another life and he was a ghost trapped in a Voodoo-induced limbo, I would have been on the first plane back to Chicago.
Still, there was one question I needed the answer to. “What am I to you, Alex?”
He smiled then, and warmth bloomed in my chest. “Light, ma chère. You are my light. You may have been Armantine once, but that life pales in comparison to what you are now. That love, it pales in comparison to what I feel for the person you are in this life.”
His words hit me like a killing blow, and I sank to my knees. He knelt down next to me and ran his hand across my hair, trying to calm me in the only way he could. I craved those whispers of ethereal warmth caressing my skin, but I wondered if it could be enough for either of us. Even as I knew that it had to be. Because of who I’d once been and what I’d once done to him.
And yet, he had somehow forgiven that girl I once was and accepted the one I’d become. More than accepted. Because when I finally met Alex’s eyes again, there was an intensity and fierceness there that gave me hope that maybe there was an answer to our shared pain. That maybe our love could be more someday than a deep well of regret. That, at the very least, having him—even like this—could be enough for us both.
Thirty-One
I’d never really believed before that a single moment could change you. That one minute you could be one person, and then something might happen that was so transformative you became someone completely different. But understanding my link to my dreams changed everything. Was I Armantine? Was I still Lucy? And how could I be Lucy, if this version of Lucy—the one who chased Voodoo curses and talked to ghosts—was so different from the one I’d been before? Only the knowledge that my brother needed help kept me going the rest of that day. Only the threat of his life hanging in the balance kept me grounded.
Nothing had changed at the hospital. T.J. was still stable, and the doctors were still confounded about what was causing the problem. My brother looked a little paler, though, and the change worried me. I knew it worried my parents, too, because the entire time we were there, T.J.’s room remained silent except for rare, hushed whispers. It was like the three of us thought that if we spoke too loudly we’d disrupt the delicate equilibrium that T.J.’s life depended upon.
Alex had stayed at the plantation to continue his search. I was grateful, but I also missed his presence. I was getting used to the way he’d send those skittering whispers of heat across my skin when he tried to touch me. I craved them in the sterile coolness of the hospital.
Eventually my dad sent me home. I made the drive alone, from the bright modern city to the timeless darkness of the land on the river’s banks. It would have been a harder drive if I didn’t know he would be waiting for me.
When I arrived, our cottage was bathed in shadows. No lights cast a welcoming glow from the windows, but the dark stillness of the exterior didn’t stop me. I knew I wouldn’t have to be alone that night, and I knew I’d walk through any amount of darkness to spend whatever time we had left together with Alex.
Luckily, I didn’t have to walk through the darkness alone. He was waiting for me in the shadows of the porch. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to—I knew with a single glance that he’d made no progress in his search, and he seemed to know that T.J. hadn’t improved.
When we came to my room, he entered first, checking for hidden dangers. Even though I knew he was no more solid than air, he overwhelmed the space with his presence. He looked so out of place among the soft purple my mom had picked for the walls and the delicately carved furniture my parents had collected over the years for me.
My heart lodged in my throat as I watched him scan the room. Even after all I had done to him, he protected me. I vowed not to make the same mistakes I’d made before. That Armantine made, I corrected myself. Because I was determined not to let her past determin
e my future.
I dressed quickly for bed in the hall bathroom while Alex waited in my room. When I came back, my face freshly scrubbed and my hair tamed into a loose braid for the night, he was in the large closet I used as a darkroom.
It was lit only dimly from the light of the larger room, so his face was draped in shadows. “These are wonderful,” he told me, pointing to the pictures of my brother.
I swallowed back the tightness in my throat and walked over to join him. He was right. They were wonderful. There in brightness and shadows, T.J. lit up the images with his roguish grin. “He looks so alive,” I said, my voice shaking.
“He is alive, love, and we shall make sure he stays that way.”
I nodded, unable to say anything else, and focused on the pictures. In one, T.J. was holding up a crawfish. In another, he was laughing at the sky, his face streaked with mud. In another, he peeked over a log, his eyes impish with delight at the attention he was receiving.
I felt a shiver of unease creep up my spine as I counted the prints and then looked at the ledger I kept to record each one’s developing time. I counted again.
“One’s missing,” I said. “There should be more prints here. I developed nine prints, three of negative fourteen.” I pointed to the shot of T.J. with the crawfish. “But there are only two of those here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” I showed him my ledger. “If I don’t keep precise notes about my darkroom time, I end up wasting a lot of material. See, here’s where I record the negative number, the exposure time, and the results. Nine. But there are only eight pictures here.”
He crossed his arms and scrubbed at his chin as he considered the prints still hanging from their hooks. “Once, I was afraid to let Armantine make an image of my sister. I wonder if perhaps my fear was not so ridiculous after all.” He stepped closer to examine the prints. “Who would have had access to these?”
“No one. Just me and my parents.” But my parents wouldn’t have come into this room. “T.J., maybe, if I wasn’t around to stop him. No one else would be allowed in here.”
“Someone was, though, or you would have nine portraits here. Think, Lucy. Who else has been in here?”
Running back over the last few days in my mind, I realized who it had to have been.
“Chloe,” I said. “Chloe came the day I printed these, to take me into the city for dinner. She was alone in here for a few minutes while I got ready, so she would have had time to take one.”
Then I shook my head, striving desperately for another explanation. “She acted strange that day, but she wouldn’t—” I looked at Alex frantically. “He’s just a kid. She was always so nice to him. Why would she hurt him?”
“She was the one who came to the cabin that day as well?”
I nodded numbly. She’d been at the bayou when Emaline was killed, as well. “But the Chloe I knew before could never do this,” I insisted. There had to be another explanation.
“Perhaps.” But Alex didn’t sound sure. He ran his fingertip gently across the back of my hand. I focused on the hint of warmth left in its wake. “I could go tonight. Tell me where this Chloe lives, and I shall find out if she was the one who did this.”
I considered his offer for less than a second before I refused. I didn’t know for sure what was going on, and I didn’t want to rush into anything again. “Tonight, we stay together, Alex. Tomorrow, we’ll go talk to Chloe, and then we’ll pay Mama Legba a visit.”
He studied me, and I thought he might argue, but he seemed to understand that there wouldn’t be any point to it. “If you’re sure?”
I nodded. I didn’t want Alex out in the darkness risking himself for me. And I didn’t want to be alone.
Thirty-Two
The next morning, Alex wasn’t pleased when he couldn’t talk me out of coming with him to Chloe’s house. He was even less pleased when I refused to wait in the car while he went to explore.
The clouds hung low in the sky, threatening to crush us beneath their weight. I hadn’t been to Mina and Chloe’s house since the day after Emaline’s body was found. That day, I’d thought the house was charming. Today, the bottles hanging from trees reminded me of hanged men waiting to be cut down.
As we walked up to the porch, the door opened and Chloe stepped out, blocking the doorway. She smiled at me, but it wasn’t Chloe’s smile that spread across her face. The surface of her face seemed to ripple, like her skin was trying to resist conforming to the smile being forced upon her.
Suddenly, it all made a horrible kind of sense. It wasn’t really Chloe.
“I knew you’d come,” she said in a voice as flat and lifeless as her eyes.
“Lucy, we need to leave. Now.” Alex’s voice was urgent in my ear.
I shook him off. I wasn’t leaving until we got back the picture.
Chloe was watching me. “Is he here?” she rasped, addressing the empty spaces around me. “Did you bring him with you, or is he tucked away safe somewhere?” The voice that came out definitely wasn’t hers, and I understood that Thisbe was behind this.
But I wasn’t sure how. Had Thisbe’s ghost somehow possessed my friend? Had my dreams somehow unleashed her, or had she always been around … waiting? Had Chloe always had this inside of her? I prayed silently that whatever the case might be, I could make it right.
I had to make it right. I drew strength from that thought and squared my shoulders to cover the terror climbing inside me.
“Who are you? What do you want from me?” I asked. I could sense Alex vibrating with tension beside me.
Chloe looked back at me, her head cocked at an odd angle. “What do I want?” She laughed. “I want what’s mine back. I want the charm. I want the boy.”
“What charm?” I already knew, but I needed to hear it for myself. Everything was too precarious to take any chances.
“The one that you took from my home,” she snapped, the anger in her tone making Chloe’s body tremble. “You want your brother whole again, you’ll give it back to me.”
It dawned on me that she wasn’t acting like she knew the doll had been destroyed. The thought was tiny pinpoint of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Thisbe wasn’t that powerful. Maybe she didn’t know who I was, or what I knew.
“I can do that,” I told her. I didn’t know how I would do it, but I knew I could buy us time.
“Lucy!” Alex hissed into my ear. “We need to leave now. You don’t bargain with the devil.”
I ignored him. “I want the picture of my brother that you stole.”
She smiled viciously. “A trade?”
I nodded. “You get your charm. I get the picture and you release my brother. Or the charm is gone. For good.”
The Chloe-thing hissed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I tried to hide my relief. She doesn’t know. I was sure now. “I would do more than dare if you do anything else to hurt the people I love.” My voice was stronger now.
“Lucy!” Alex was frantic. Warmth pulled at my shoulders, and I knew he was trying to move me. But it wasn’t the calming warmth I was used to. His wisps of energy were charged with the cool burn of his desperation and fear. I silently willed him to trust me.
“Very well, child,” Chloe said, a devilish smile playing at her lips. “We’ll make your little trade.” She held out her hand, expectantly.
“I have to go get the charm,” I told her.
“Today,” she said. “It must be today. The boy doesn’t have that much longer anyway.”
Her words chilled me. “Where?”
“Come to my home at sunset. You’ll get your picture.”
“Sunset,” I repeated, knowing she meant the cabin in the grove of trees.
“Lucy. We need to leave now.” Alex’s voice was firm now and I knew I’d finally exhausted his patience. But I kept myself composed. I didn’t want Thisbe to sense any weakness.
I turned and left, walking slowly and deliberately to my car. Somehow I managed to start
it and get it into gear. My hands barely trembled as I backed out of the driveway and drove away from the house where Chloe still stood watching, but once we were a mile or so away, I pulled over to side of the road, no longer able to keep myself from shaking.
“Lucy, please love, you must calm yourself.” Alex’s voice was gentle but I could hear the worry in it. “Come on, ma chère.”
I took a few deep breaths that only helped a little. When my breathing finally eased back to a more normal rhythm, he roared at me. “How could you do that!”
I winced. “I knew what I was doing, Alex.”
“You couldn’t possibly know what you were dealing with there. The danger you were in!” His jaw was clenched.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “I’m okay.”
“That girl could have hurt you.” His voice cracked with tension and relief. “I would not have been able to stop her.”
“She didn’t, though.” I needed him to understand. “I don’t think it’s really Chloe, Alex. Thisbe’s involved somehow.”
“I know, ma chère. I was trying to tell you that when you insisted on talking with her.”
I looked at him. “You could see it too, couldn’t you?”
He nodded. “Your friend may be in there somewhere, but she is not in control. Perhaps she never has been.”
With unsteady hands, I put the car in gear again and drove us even farther away from the small home that had once seemed as welcoming as my own. I spared it only one glance in my rearview mirror. From far off, the house once again looked like any other home. Anyone else passing by would never guess that behind its cheerful blue shutters lurked darkness thicker than a nightmare.
“Why did you make that bargain, Lucy?” Alex asked. “We no longer have the charm.”
“I know that, and you know that, but she doesn’t seem to,” I said, glancing over at him. “If she knew we’d already destroyed it, she wouldn’t have asked for it. She definitely wouldn’t have bothered making a deal.”
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