by Sable Hunter
LILY’S MIRAGE
HELL YEAH!
SABLE HUNTER
CONTENTS
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Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
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The End
Untitled
About the Author
Follow Sable!
Sable’s Books
Other Titles from Sable Hunter:
-
HELL YEAH!
BY
SABLE HUNTER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Lily’s Mirage
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2017 © Sable Hunter
Cover by JRA Stevens
Down Write Nuts
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher
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INTRODUCTION
Lily Bastien comes to mysterious St. Phillips Island for a last fling with life. She knows her future is uncertain and love is not in her stars. Here, in a cottage haunted by lost love, she will discover a secret that will rock her world. A ghost from the past is not the only unexpected visitor to her private sanctuary. Imagine her surprise when she finds Sexist Man Alive, Blade Jensen, naked in her bedroom. They clash, at first, but soon they can’t fight the attraction they feel for one another. Sparks begin to fly and the passion they share changes everything. Lily can only dream of forever, but Blade is determined to make her dreams come true. To protect the man she loves, she tries to hide the painful truth from him. But fate finds a way and Blade and Lily learn that sometimes a love is so great, one lifetime together could never be enough.
1
“Oh, yea, right there. Harder. Harder,” Lily whimpered, arching her back and spreading her legs a little wider. “Fuck me, this feels so good.”
As she pumped the small vibrator in and out of her quivering sheathe, Lily covered her breast, pulling on the sensitive nipple. If she kept her eyes closed, she could hold onto the dream image of a powerful man possessing her body, pumping in and out between her thighs. Giving her pleasure and taking his own. All too soon, the clit stimulator did its work and she achieved orgasm, but the euphoric elation died quickly as the fantasy lover faded away. With a frustrated sigh, she pulled the battery-operated toy from her vagina and rolled out of the bed to wash and dry it off, replacing the poor substitute for a flesh and blood man into the drawer of her bedside table.
Sitting on the side of the antique sleigh bed, she stared through the double French doors and out into the private courtyard. The only thing moving in her house was the slight breeze from the air conditioner. Her loneliness was palpable. Gazing into the darkness, she tried to think of anything but the future. She wasn’t sleepy, maybe she ought to put in a few hours work in the gallery. There were several new acquisitions to catalog and two showings to get off the ground. With her mind on work, she wasn’t really focused on what was before her eyes.
Until something moved in the garden…
Stiffening with surprise, Lily concentrated on the scene in front of her and what she saw in the distance made her gasp and rise to peer closer. The gas lamps created an impressionistic study of light and shadows as fog swirled among the tropical plants, seeming to give birth to the spectral illusion of a couple caught up in a passionate embrace. “Charlotte?” As the image became clearer, she could discern the woman’s hair, an old-fashioned hoop-skirt gown, and even her hand clasping the man’s broad shoulder.
“Look this way, just turn your head. Let me know you’re real.” Almost afraid to breathe, she strained to tell if what she was seeing was actually there or a figment of her overactive imagination. Maybe if she drew closer, she could see more clearly.
“Just stay there. Stay there. Don’t move.” Walking quietly, she padded through her French Quarter Creole cottage, oblivious to the rich furnishings and the valuable pieces of art on the walls. Lily was intent only on reaching the courtyard. Tugging her white cotton wrap more securely around her body, she unfastened the locks and slipped out into the night.
The difference in temperature from the cottage to the humid, sultry air created an immediate gloss of dampness on her skin. Lily hadn’t bothered with shoes, so she crept softly on the worn bricks, the melodious tinkle of the fountain muted any noise from outside the walls of her sanctuary. Brushing aside a wide banana leaf, Lily gazed into the depth of the garden – past birds of paradise, hostas, and ginger lilies. “Charlotte Belmont,” she mouthed the name silently, agape at the discernable form of a woman cradled in her lover’s strong arms. The figures were clearly visible, yet translucent. She could see every pleat in the gown the woman wore, the texture of the lace around her slim wrists, even the velvet ribbon that held back her long dark hair. Their substance appeared to be opalescent energy, seemingly alive, yet wonderfully supernatural. As she stood transfixed, the man went to his knees and clasped Charlotte’s hand. Lily waited for them to speak, but there were no words. Maybe none were needed. Before her eyes, the apparitions grew dimmer until they vanished into the gloom. Lily stood there for the longest time, staring into the velvety twilight, mesmerized by the possibilities.
When a siren sounded somewhere outside her haven, she blinked her eyes, the spell broken. Lily knew she was completely alone now, there was no effervescence in the air as before. Bowing her head, Lily had to wonder if her vision had been real or if it was, like Flora insisted, born of the damned lesion in her temporal lobe.
Chafing her arms, she returned to the cottage. Lily wasn’t cold, she was…nervous. Sleep would be elusive. The ghosts in the garden wouldn’t be haunting her dreams, rather the certain knowledge of her own mortality weighed heavily on her mind.
Lily did not fear her nocturnal visitors. If they truly existed, she felt a connection with them, for she owned Charlotte’s shop and lived in Charlotte’s home. The diary Charlotte had written held a place of honor in her library and the paintings Charlotte once collected were proudly displayed on Lily’s walls. She knew Charlotte’s protégé, Abraham, and how she took great pains to protect the young black man and preserve his art. Lily knew enough about the lady from long ago to know she’d never hurt anyone, much less someone who was trying to preserve her legacy. If she didn’t know better, Lily would think she’d been Charlotte in another life. Conversely, if the images were merely a product of the abnormal cells in her brain, the specters posed far less of a threat to Lily than the malady from which they rose.
“You look like death warmed over, Calla Lily. When are you going to give up and come home with me?” Flora offered, thumbing through a stack of invoices. “You can lay in my chaise lounge out on the front gallery and sip mint juleps all day long.”
Lily snatched her private paperwork from her nosy sister’s hands. “Stop it. I’m not an invalid. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
; “Insomnia and stress are common side effects of a glioblastoma.”
Flora’s calm, know-it-all assessment irritated Lily. “No, I heard something outside. After I got up to check on it, I couldn’t go back to sleep. Entirely normal,” she said the last word with a hint of disdain.
Her sister kept on with her snooping, sitting down at Lily’s laptop and calling up her accounts receivables. “What disturbed you? A bird? Revelers outside the courtyard wall?”
When Lily didn’t answer right away, Flora cut her eyes toward her younger sister. “What?” When her question received no response, she perked up like a hound dog on the scent of wild game. “Are you seeing spooks again, Lily? Is that what this is?”
Lily pressed her lips together. She refused to give Flora more ammunition than she already possessed.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts, Lily Jean Conn.”
“Don’t use the name Conn, we’re Bastiens.” Lily stood up and leaned over to close her laptop, almost catching Flora’s fingers in the forceful snap.
“Conn blood flows through our veins, always will, we didn’t change who we are just because our uncle adopted us. Either way, you’re not receiving visitors from the great beyond.”
“This is New Orleans, Flora. The dead outnumber the living here, by far.”
“Only in people’s imaginations. As far as your phantoms are concerned, it’s clear that you’re hallucinating, Lily. I spoke to Dr. Kimmel yesterday…”
“I wish you wouldn’t discuss my health with your friends.”
Flora gave her a sly smirk. “Jay Kimmel is much more than a friend.” When Lily just rolled her eyes, Flora sobered. “I do this because I care, Lily. You’ve given up, I haven’t. Still…Jay did tell me that hallucinations accompany the type of malignancy you suffer from. He says sometimes the patient can’t tell what’s real from what’s not.”
“I’m sick, Flora,” Lily murmured. “I may be dying.” She took a catalog from Flora’s hands. “But I am not crazy! Please refrain from sticking your nose in my business!”
Flora frowned, slapping the table. “I’m just trying to help you. If you do die, who do you think is going to take over the art gallery when you’re gone? It’s not like you have a husband or children! You might as well let me start to help you now, I’m going to be running this place eventually.”
Lily stared at her sister, amazed at her audacious, rude behavior. “Are you trying to be a royal bitch? Or am I experiencing one of those hallucinations you were talking about?”
The blunt language didn’t faze Flora. “I promised Daddy that I would look out for you. I’m just keeping my word, that’s all. In fact, you shouldn’t be driving, you probably need to give me the keys to your Mercedes.” She held out one well-manicured hand, palm up.
“Not a chance in hell. I love my car. And why should you keep a promise to Daddy? He never kept any he made to us.” Taking Flora by the arm, Lilly pulled her to her feet. “Thanks for dropping by, but you have your own bookkeeping business to take care of. I have things to do here and you’re distracting me.”
“All right. I’ll leave, just know I’m available when you need me. Things will continue to deteriorate for you, so I think you should consider moving home soon. A woman in your condition shouldn’t be alone.”
Being alone after Flora left was a blessed condition as far as Lily was concerned.
After a few hours of work and several meetings with clients, she was ready for a break. Going to her desk, she pulled out her Wish Book and began leafing through the pages. Here, within the confines of this journal, she wrote down all the dreams and details of the life she would’ve lived had she been granted the chance. Today she made a new entry about what she and the husband she’d never have, would do on their tenth anniversary. She smiled as she made the notation of a romantic walk along the beach and her gifting the shadowed figure of her fantasies a gold watch with the engraving: I love you more than life. You have made all my dreams come true. Before she set the book aside, Lily glanced through it, seeing her imaginary life laid out before her – the wedding she’d never have, the honeymoon she’d never go on, the children she’d never hold in her arms. She knew some said that right before they died, the life they’d led flashed before their eyes. Lily’s did also, but she didn’t see past events she’d been blessed to experience. Instead, she witnessed a mirage of the days and years she’d never be privileged to know.
“Why do I do this to myself?” she whispered. Sometimes the act of recording her imaginings of the life she would’ve wished for was a welcome consolation…and sometimes she wondered why she tortured herself with things she’d never have. “I need to get up, I need to talk to someone.” Not Flora though, Flora was depressing. This time, Lily sought out company of her own choosing.
Just as she grabbed her keys, Lily caught a glimpse of something or someone in the rear of the gallery. She could’ve sworn she saw the broad shoulders of a man standing in the back doorway. Moving slowly, she checked everywhere, making sure all the security features were functioning on the windows and side doors. After performing an inspection of the entire premises and finding nothing, she shrugged. “I need to find some way to prove I’m not hallucinating, at least to myself.”
Locking up Charlotte’s art gallery, she went next door to Bliss Renaud’s Curiosity Shop. The few short steps carried her from one world to another. For stepping into the Curiosity Shop was like entering another realm entirely. “Bliss!” Lily added her call to the mystical tinkling of a small bell hanging over the door.
The next breath she took was full of amazing smells: patchouli, High John the Conqueror, frankincense, and eucalyptus. Vying with the tantalizing smells was a myriad of things to admire and examine. Herbs, crystals, candles, and oils competed for attention with mojo bags, voodoo dolls, magic wands, and tarot cards. Shelves were full of books on magic and mystical knowledge, while antique display cases offered cauldrons, anathemas, and small statues depicting gods and goddesses. The Curiosity Shop served both the New Orleans wiccan community, plus the hoodoo and voodoo crowd, and anyone else who had a taste for the esoteric. Paintings by local artists covered the walls and racks hung heavy with ornate capes and cloaks. Not everything was mysterious, however. A coffee bar in the back welcomed visitors to sit a spell or conjure a spell, whichever they’d rather. “Bliss!”
“Join me, Lily,” a warm voice called from a side aisle. “I’m in the process of putting together a love spell for a customer.”
“I’ll take one if you have extra.” She poked her head around the corner and saw a figure in motion - long flowing purple skirt, topped with a flowing purple cape, adorned with long flowing dark hair. All seemed natural for this woman, for loved flowed from Bliss Renaud as freely as water from a bubbling spring. “There you are.”
“Yes, here hold these rose petals and red candles.” She piled items in Lily’s hands, then stopped to choose two red velvet bags, two pink quartz crystals, and a vial of attraction oil. “Now, follow me, let’s sit down and conjure up a man or two.”
“Oh, Bliss, you’re a hoot.” Lily followed the pretty woman to a comfortable table. Nearby was a chintz love seat adorned with two huge cats, one black and one calico. “I’m so glad you decided to open up your shop next door to mine.”
“Good karma, lots of family history on this block.” Bliss laid out her love spell goodies. “Tea, coffee, or something stronger?”
“Coffee, I think. I can fix it.” Lily put the items she was carrying next to the rest. “How about you?”
“Tea, lots of sugar, a little lemon.” Bliss gave the cats a pet, then walked to a nearby hutch and took out a small cauldron, a mortar and pestle, and an amethyst pendulum. “When I discovered my ancestor used to own your art gallery, I knew I’d be happy close to her.”
“I’m sure Charlotte’s happy you’re here. Sometimes…I feel she’s still with us.”
Lily waited for Bliss’s reaction while she poured the tea and coffee.
“I agree.” Bliss smiled, seemingly unperturbed. “I’m convinced life goes on, love survives beyond the grave.” She lit one of the candles and placed the rose petals in the mortar. Adding a few other herbs, she began to crush them with the pestle.
Lily shivered at Bliss’s words. “Not very many people share your view.”
“I’d say you and I are very similar.” She added a few drops of oil, then dipped the concoction into a filmy bag. “I feel as if we’re connected in some mystical way, more than just our connection to Charlotte.”
“I don’t know, I sure don’t have much in common with my own flesh and blood.” Lily shook her head sadly, handing Bliss the quartz stones to add to the bag. “Do these things really work?”
“Yes, they help you focus your intent. They open your eyes to possibilities.” Her fingers were busy, assembling the ingredients, adding a couple of small charms. “The bag I’m making for Tilda is focused on a particular gentleman. This one,” she held up the bag meant for Lily, “will open you up to the possibility of love.”
“I’m more interested in the possibility for sex,” Lily teased, knowing for certain she didn’t have time for love. She remembered telling Glory Bee the same thing, the only problem was that she couldn’t afford a relationship. No matter what impossible dreams she recorded in her Wish Book, there was no use getting attached to anyone, and she certainly didn’t want anyone getting attached to her.
Lily was running out of time.
What she needed to do was escape, if only for a little while. She needed to come to terms with her fate. “I’ve got to get out of here, Bliss.”
Bliss looked up, concerned by Lily’s change of tone. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to spend my last days battling my sister. I want an adventure.”