He tied up next to the other boat and reached for the ladder. His leg screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain. He raised his head above the galeria floor and risked a peek inside.
People moved about, but he couldn’t see who or how many. He reached for his Glock and felt only plastic.
Damn. His rain jacket covered the weapon. He stepped back into the boat. The current swung the back end around and banged the side against one of the support beams, knocking him on his butt. His pulse roared in his ears. Had anyone heard? If they had, he’d better be ready. He unzipped the jacket and tucked the corner into the back of his jeans, uncovering his gun.
This time his leg didn’t protest as he climbed the ladder. Rain covered the sound of his footsteps. He struggled to maintain his balance as the entire structure shook from the force of the wind.
His rain jacket whipped against him with sharp stabs of pain, like being popped with a wet towel. The hood slapped his face, obscuring his view. He moved the Glock to his left hand as he slipped the jacket off. Before he’d switched the gun back, the wind lifted the jacket in a macabre dance and flung the garment out of sight.
One more step and the screen door stood in front of him. A lantern hung from the center of the single room, coating everything in a faint yellow light.
His eyes locked on the four people inside, then immediately slid down to the weapon on the big guy’s hip.
“You need to keep walking.” Yvonne Dupre gripped her arm and propelled her around the room.
“Why? I’m tired. I want to sit down.” Adrienne didn’t want to sit down. She wanted to lie down. But that nasty old man was in her bed. Sure, he was old and feeble, but she was the one about to have a frigging baby.
“Walking helps speed the process along.”
“I don’t want to speed the process along. I want the pain to stop. I don’t want to have this baby at all, especially not in this filthy cabin without any drugs to help.” Dammit, she would not cry in front of these people.
“I know, honey, but you can’t stop labor once it’s started. The best you can hope for is to get the birth over with as soon as possible.”
Adrienne swallowed her anger. She’d let Mrs. Dupre act all sweet and helpful if she wanted—it made her more pleasant to be around—but she didn’t plan to forget that she was in on all this.
A shutter banged back and forth against the wall, finally tearing away and allowing rain to pour through the uncovered window. Wind howled through the opening and tree limbs scraped the sides and roof.
Fear raced through Adrienne’s veins. Was she about to die? Would her parents ever know what happened to her?
“Can I have some water? Will that hurt anything?” she asked.
Mrs. Dupre seemed startled. “I guess not. Just a few sips. We don’t want you to throw up. Here, sit down and catch your breath.” She shooed the tough guy out of the rocker and Adrienne plopped down.
Adrienne grabbed the bottle of water Mrs. Dupre held out and chugged half of the contents, letting the cool liquid soothe her parched throat. Nothing had ever felt so good.
Mrs. Dupre wrestled the bottle away from her. “I said a few sips.”
Sebastian twisted his head her direction. “Don’t let her rest too long. She must deliver before the waxing crescent fades under the sun’s rays or I won’t acquire the babe’s full power.”
Tough Guy snorted, as if she had misbehaved in school. He looked put out that he’d had to move off the good chair. What had he been doing, cleaning his fingernails? Let him tote a twenty-pound bowling ball around in his stomach, cutting into his lungs, punching him in the kidneys. Then he could complain about giving up the rocking chair and sitting on a stool.
Maybe he should ask the old man to move over and let him share the bed. Then he could rest in style.
She hated them all. Each one more than the last. She’d never been so afraid and alone in her life. She wanted her mother to help her through this.
But what she really wanted was her daddy. She wanted him to rescue her. She wanted him to come in and shoot everyone here, then take her out of this place.
Mrs. Dupre set the water bottle on the table and reached for her arm, trying to coax her to stand up again. The cabin swayed in the wind and her stomach lurched. Maybe drinking so much water hadn’t been a good idea.
Had she hurt herself or the baby?
Lightning flashed and she thought she saw a dark figure standing outside the door. Her heart jumped into her throat. The figure looked like the drawings of Death she’d seen in an old mythology book. Had he come for her? If so, she was ready. Just take her before the next contraction hit.
She couldn’t hear the thunder over the wind and rain, but the cabin shook. If there was a Hell, this was surely it.
Lightning flashed again and she clearly saw her father’s face. Was she dreaming? He was afraid of the swamp. He would never come this far into it, would he?
Maybe he would. For her.
She still wasn’t sure if the figure was her father or an apparition, but if it was her father, and Tough Guy looked up and saw him, he’d kill him before he had a chance. She had to do something.
She screamed and doubled over, clutching her stomach. All eyes were on her.
When she straightened up, her father was inside the cabin, his gun pressed against the old man’s head.
Her heart leapt. Her daddy had come to save her. How could she have doubted?
Water dripped from his black hair and his shirt was plastered to his body. The gun in his hand didn’t waver.
Mrs. Dupre’s eyes were the size of saucers. She looked from one man to the other. Trying to pick the winning team?
“Yvonne, take the gentleman’s gun and hand it to Adrienne, butt first.”
How could her father sound so calm?
Adrienne glanced at Tough Guy. His hand was on his gun, but the barrel hadn’t cleared his holster. He shoved Yvonne to the ground and jumped behind Adrienne, putting the crook of his arm around her neck. “Looks like we have a standoff here,” he said.
Had she ever heard him speak before? His voice was high and squeaky. It didn’t fit his musclebound body.
“Maybe. I’ll trade my daughter for the old man. There are two boats out there. We’ll take one and be off. You can have the other and leave or wait here till the storm passes. I don’t know who you are or where you live, so no one will come looking for you. Yvonne, I promised Jean-Paul to do my best to protect you. And I always keep my word.”
He wanted to go out in that storm? Adrienne wasn’t sure which was more frightening, staying here or leaving.
Sebastian raised his head from the cot. “It’s much too dangerous to go out in this storm. Let’s all wait here until it passes.” His voice sounded weak, but still managed to have a calming tone. “Then you’re welcome to take your daughter home. No one forced her to come here. She wanted time to think and plan for her future. We were only seeing to her welfare.”
She had learned to shut his voice out, but her father didn’t know what he was capable of. She had to speak up before the old man cast his spell over her father. “Don’t listen to him, Daddy. He can fool you into doing what he wants just by talking.”
She’d rather die in the swamp with her father than stay here another minute. The contractions hadn’t progressed much over the last hour. A minute to two closer together and each one more distinct than the last.
That was why Mrs. Dupre kept asking her to walk around the cabin. All that had accomplished was to increase the pain in her back and make her swollen feet ache.
She winced as Tough Guy tightened his grip around her neck, preventing her from saying more. Daddy didn’t understand. Mrs. Dupre might be in this for the money, but for these two guys, her giving birth seemed like a religious experien
ce.
The old man obviously thought her baby would make him well and strong. And from the look of the altar he’d set up in the corner, she was afraid that included a sacrifice.
Once the baby was born, he wouldn’t need her any longer, or Mrs. Dupre. And Daddy was just in the way.
She had to get away from Tough Guy before he killed her father and Sebastian stole her baby.
Chapter 33
Remy had seen Adrienne look directly at him, so he felt sure her scream was a diversion. But what if he was wrong?
He couldn’t take his eyes off the man with his arm around her neck to check.
He should have gone for the musclebound jock first. With Adrienne and Yvonne in the way, he could only have managed that by working his way around to the side window and shooting him in cold blood. Something he wasn’t willing to do at the time.
Now he regretted that decision.
Taking Sebastian should have been the right move. He was the key. Remy had caught his statement about stealing the baby’s powers. The old man might be crazy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t the one in charge.
“What do you say, an even trade? Make up your mind. The old man isn’t looking too good.”
Sebastian spoke up before the jock had time to answer. “Don’t listen to him. We don’t have time to search for another baby. You’re safe. He won’t risk hitting his daughter. Take him now.”
Remy dove under the cot and tried to shoot the jock in the foot.
The gunshot reverberated through the little cabin, overpowering the roar of the storm. His ears rang and from the way Yvonne slapped her hands to the side of her head, hers did, too. The burnt smell competed with the propane lantern and candles.
All that, and he’d missed. He’d hit the runner of the rocking chair instead. And now he was trapped under the cot. The jock couldn’t shoot him there, but Remy knew he couldn’t get off a decent shot either.
He watched as the edge of the rocking chair tipped forward. Adrienne immediately slammed her body back. Her head hit the jock’s nose and blood spurted everywhere, crimson against her blond hair and on her fair skin.
The curved backrest of the chair struck the jock in the chest, forcing him to take a step back.
Remy rolled out from under the cot and jumped to his feet. He took one step toward Adrienne as something cold and unyielding yanked his foot out from under him. He hit the floor hard, pain shooting up the leg that had just started to recover. Twisting around, he saw the hooked grip of the old man’s cane around his ankle.
The old man struggled to stand and Remy upended the cot, but he’d lost his advantage. The jock was holding his nose with one hand and reaching for his gun with the other.
Adrienne struggled out of the chair and ran behind Yvonne. It was the first time Remy had gotten a good look at his daughter. He couldn’t believe his eyes. What had happened to her?
He’d seen photos of her only a month before and she’d looked sexier than he’d been comfortable with for his seventeen-year-old daughter. None of her friends or her mother had noticed a thing.
Yet here she was, straining the fabric of her pink gown.
He’d delivered an eight-pound baby in the back of a squad car from a woman who wasn’t half Adrienne’s size. Adrienne was only supposed to be six months along. Yet everyone here seemed to expect the baby tonight.
Her navel protruded from her rounded belly and showed through the thin cotton of her gown. Hadn’t he joked with Gabby that hers had looked like the timer on the Christmas turkey? When it popped out, you were ready.
“Adrienne, go outside and get in the boat. If anyone but me comes out, untie the rope and start down the bayou.” But could she climb down the ladder in her condition?
Yvonne snatched a dingy sheet from the floor and wrapped the stained cotton around Adrienne’s shoulders before pushing her toward the door.
The jock took his eyes off Remy long enough to shove Yvonne aside and grab Adrienne’s arm. “Not so fast, sweetie.”
Remy took aim, but the two women were in the way. He stepped to the side, hoping for a clear shot when a burning pain sliced across his arm. Sebastian had pulled the handle off his cane to reveal a wicked-looking knife, which now dripped his blood.
“Quick, bring her to the altar. The mojo won’t be as strong as if the babe was born alive, but it will buy us time to prepare. I haven’t been doing this for the last hundred and eighty years without learning a thing or two.” Sebastian held the knife high.
The jock tugged on Adrienne’s arm, but she planted her feet and refused to move. He spun around and pointed his gun at her head just as Remy fired.
The shot went through the boy’s side and into his chest.
The punk stood for a count of three then sagged to his knees. The hand with his gun rested on the floor and he stared at it as if willing it to move before toppling to the side.
Remy lifted the gun from the boy’s lifeless hand and flung it out the open window.
The floor tilted as a gust of wind slapped against the cabin and Sebastian stumbled. The old man grabbed a table edge for support and seemed to whither in front of Remy’s eyes. He lay on his back, gasping for air.
For a moment, Remy could believe Sebastian was the one hundred and eighty years he claimed.
An ear-splitting groan filled the cabin as a support beam cracked and part of the roof peeled back. Rain poured in, drenching the inside of the cabin.
Sebastian’s body suddenly dissolved into a pile of ashes as he watched. The wind swept down and swirled the ashes into a miniature tornado before carrying them through the hole in the roof.
Remy blinked, unsure whether he believed what he’d just witnessed, but he didn’t have time to question it.
“Head for the boat,” he yelled. “This place is breaking apart.”
“Go ahead,” Yvonne answered. “I’ll be right behind you in the second boat.”
She ran toward the altar and opened the bag beside it. Remy glanced back as he reached the door and saw her stuffing stacks of bills into her pockets.
The water level had risen to even with the galerie, making it possible for Adrienne to step into the boat without assistance. The second boat had been tied lower and the rope held its bow down. Another few inches and it would fill with water.
“Hurry, Yvonne,” he yelled, but the wind snatched his words away.
He watched as the last of the roof peeled away. The cabin twisted on its moorings with an unearthly screech.
The full force of the wind and rain hit him and made breathing difficult.
Remy slipped his hunting knife from its sheath and hacked at the rope holding his boat. As the strands parted, the wind grabbed the boat and swung the skiff around. Which way was he supposed to go? He could hardly tell up from down, much less north from south.
The glow from the propane lantern swayed violently as the cabin sank into the waves, but the light lasted long enough to show him which way to turn.
The heavy oak doors closed behind Gabby and the noise level dropped dramatically. She breathed a sigh of relief. Who knew the constant howl of the wind could be so exhausting?
She hesitated beside the font of holy water affixed to the wall just inside the doors. What if this liquid burned her the way the water in the vials had? But she had no choice. She offered up a quick prayer and plunged her hand into the basin. Icy water chilled her fingers and forehead as she crossed herself.
Either the vials she bought from Sister Eva were never holy water in the first place, or she had been cleansed of whatever spell had taken hold of her.
Gabby dipped her fingers into the holy water again and sprinkled the liquid over the stack of bills she’d taken from Sebastian Guidry’s altar table. She wouldn’t consider them for herself, or even for Adrienne, but Wil
low deserved them. If Adrienne survived, it would be because Willow sent Remy in the right direction. And her family couldn’t continue to live in a trailer that flooded during storms and had a dog-eating alligator for a neighbor.
Gabby inhaled. The familiar sent of furniture polish, incense, and candle wax soothed her. Water had soaked through her tennis shoes and they squeaked with each step as she made her way up the aisle.
She knelt and lit three candles, one for Remy, one for Adrienne, one for her unborn grandchild, then bowed her head and tried to find the words to pray.
“Gabby, what are you doing out in this weather? Look at you. You’re soaked to the skin. Is something wrong?” The warmth of Father Donavan’s hand on her shoulder, made her realize how cold she was.
She twisted toward him, still on her knees. “Father, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t disturb me. I’m an old worrywart. I couldn’t rest without checking that the sanctuary was closed up and safe during this storm. I’m glad I hadn’t locked the front doors yet. I wouldn’t want to stop anyone who feels the need to pray. Are you concerned about the storm or about your daughter?”
“Both, I guess.” He must have walked across from the rectory. His pants were wet from the knee down. “You knew Adrienne was kidnapped?”
He held out his hand to help her up. “I knew she was gone, but I heard she ran away. Kidnapped? You must be frantic. Have you talked to the sheriff?”
“He’s the one telling everyone she ran away. That way he doesn’t have to look for her. Remy has taken a boat into the swamp to search for Adrienne.” She couldn’t tell this man of God about the voodoo shrine she’d found or the poppet in Remy’s image with needles thrust into the torso.
“Remy? Adrienne’s father? I though he was out of the picture.”
“He’s a police detective in Houston, but he keeps in close contact with her.” That wasn’t the answer she’d have given a month ago. Then she’d been ready to think the worst of him.
Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte Page 24