“The treatment of patients with malignant gliomas still remains palliative and encompasses surgery, radiotherapy, and chemotherapy.”
She couldn’t have heard him right. “There’s nothing that can be done?”
“I’m afraid not.” He reached out and took her hands in his. “It’s in your brain stem as well as the center of your brain. There is nothing that can be done. But I can recommend several other highly qualified specialists if you’d like to get a second opinion.”
Charlie blinked back tears of devastation. “How long do I have?”
“Perhaps you should concentrate on—”
“How long,” she interrupted, fueled by desperation.
He gently squeezed her fingers in his. “With the location and size of the tumors, I’d say three to four months at best.”
The room tilted around her. Charlene closed her eyes in an attempt to hold back the nausea now snaking through her. She’d just been told the unimaginable. She had mere months left to live.
She abruptly stood, forcing the doctor to rise also. “I have to go.”
He touched her on the arm as she moved around him toward the door. “If you’ll give me just a moment, I’ll write you a prescription for those migraines.”
Charlie couldn’t bring herself to speak. She remained still as a statue while he hurried from the room and disappeared down the hall.
He returned a few minutes later holding several pieces of paper in his hands. He indicated the small, blue prescription paper resting on top. “This will help with your headaches.”
Charlie glanced at the name of the prescription, recognizing it as a powerful narcotic she’d administered to many patients over the years.
The doctor then handed her several other forms. “I’ve scheduled you to come back in a week for a follow-up MRI.”
Accepting the papers, Charlie sent him a determined look. “More MRIs won’t buy me any extra time, Doctor Linville. If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll get that second opinion.”
“Absolutely, Charlene. I think you should. In the meantime, if you need anything, just give us a call and we’ll get you right in.”
Charlie nodded numbly and trailed off toward the checkout desk.
A raven-haired girl with a pixie cut and far too much makeup smiled at Charlie’s approach. Her nametag read, SHELLY. “Hi, Miss Howard, your co-pay for today will be twenty-five dollars.”
Charlie pulled her debit card from her pants pocket and slid it through the groove on the small gray box situated on the counter in front of her. She typed in her pin number when prompted and pressed the green key.
“The doctor would like to see you back in one week for an MRI,” Shelly continued without looking up.
Charlie cleared her throat. “I won’t be needing that appointment.”
That got Shelly’s attention. She lifted her head, a small indention between her pretty brown eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I am.” Charlie replaced her debit card and walked out the door before she lost her hold on reality and fell to pieces in the oncology reception area.
Chapter One
One Month Later
Charlie arrived at Shell Island Lake in Louisiana a little before dark on Friday evening. She’d been traveling for two days, foregoing the typical flight in favor of driving. There had been so much scenery she hadn’t wanted to miss.
She passed a few hotels before turning off the main stretch and maneuvering her small SUV down a bumpy dirt road.
The massive oak trees lining the winding drive, formed a canopy of branches that blocked out the sun and cradled its occupants in a cool, darkened den of swaying moss. Charlie had never seen anything so haunting, yet welcoming, in all her life.
She thought of her mother and wondered if Elaine had ever regretted leaving New Orleans for the hustle and bustles of Los Angeles.
Elaine had met Bill Howard during his residency at Saint John’s General in downtown New Orleans when she was twenty years old. They’d quickly fallen in love and married. Soon after, Bill had whisked Elaine away to the big city life of Los Angeles, California where she’d given birth to their first and only child, Charlene.
Elaine had never taken her daughter to New Orleans before she’d passed away. She had moved Charlie’s grandmother to Los Angeles when Charlie was eleven years old. That had been a year before Elaine’s cancer diagnosis.
Cancer had taken Charlene’s grandmother, her mother, and in a short amount of time, would claim Charlie too.
Though the predicted sadness and fear thundered inside her, Charlie couldn’t find the strength to cry. In fact, she hadn’t shed a tear since the day she’d informed her father of her prognosis.
Bill had been beyond devastated, insisting that Charlie fly to France to try some experimental drug still in the trial stages. There were no guarantees it would work, and if it did, no guarantees she’d survive the treatment.
Charlie had made the call, only to learn that her cancer was far too advanced for the trial treatment. So, she’d kissed her dad goodbye with a promise to return soon and set out for Louisiana.
After much research, Charlie had learned of a Voodoo priestess named Celia Battiste. Sources revealed that Battiste had the power to heal, though there had never been any concrete evidence to support that fact. Still, for someone with no other options, such as Charlie, Celia Battiste was a tiny spark of hope in an otherwise darkened tunnel.
Charlie had cleaned out her savings account and rented a house on the bayou, paying six months in advance. She hadn’t divulged her destination to anyone. If she had to die, she refused to let her father watch her suffer. No, Charlie wouldn’t be returning to Los Angeles unless she was cancer free.
An old wood-framed house perched on the banks of the bayou came into view. A small screened porch sat off the ground a good six feet with concrete steps leading up to the door. Charlie noticed a light burning inside.
The car rolled to a stop near a walkway lined in shrubs. Charlie switched off the engine and climbed out.
The buzz of mosquitoes could be heard over the raspy grinding sounds of what could only be described as bullfrogs. Something splashed in the water beyond, prompting Charlie to pick up her pace. She popped the trunk of the car, grabbed her bags, and made her way up the steep steps to the front porch.
“Hello?” she called, opening the door and stepping inside. “Is anyone here?”
She was instantly greeted by a spider scrambling across the wooden porch floor, followed by a massive lizard obviously giving chase.
Charlie froze; not from the size of the lizard, but the spider. God, she hated spiders.
With a shudder, she waited for it to reach the opposite side of the porch and hurried inside the house. What she saw there took her breath.
The house, though small, boasted of hardwood floors in the kitchen and living area. An old rocking chair sat in the corner across from a surprisingly large sofa. There was no television in sight.
Charlie lowered her bags to the floor and took in the kitchen. The refrigerator looked to be from the fifties with its rounded corners and faded paint.
She gripped the small silver lever and opened the freezer to find two aluminum ice trays and a wooden-handled ice pick inside.
With a smile, she closed the door and opened the fridge. Inside, she found a jug of water, a loaf of bread, sandwich meat, and a few other items along with a note that read: We hope you enjoy your stay, the Bickfords.
Closing the fridge, Charlie made a quick sweep through the house. She checked out the small bedroom with its sparse furnishing before stopping to scope out the bathroom.
A giant clawfoot tub sat in a corner with candles lining the backside. A beautiful, lacy white curtain hung half open around it, giving it a welcoming feel. She would definitely take a bubble bath later that night.
Making her way back to the kitchen, Charlie grabbed the contents from the fridge and made herself a sandwich. She had a big day ahead of her on the mo
rrow but made a mental note to find the nearest store and stock up on food.
With a sigh of exhaustion, Charlie took a bite of her sandwich, her mind wandering back to the articles she’d read about the Voodoo priestess. Celia Battiste resided somewhere in those swamps, and Charlie was bound and determined to find her.
The sound of an engine coming up the swamp caught Charlie’s attention. She picked up her sandwich, trailed out to the back porch, and pushed open the screen door.
A boat suddenly came into view. Sitting in back, guiding it through the swamp, was a dark-haired man who looked to be in his early thirties.
Charlie lifted a hand to wave just as he shifted his gaze in her direction. Her stomach fluttered. Even with the sun beginning to set, and that boat more than thirty feet away, there was no mistaking the golden glow of his eyes.
He didn’t return her wave, but the intense look he sent her told her without words that he was checking her out as well.
She continued to stand there, watching the wake of his waves long after he disappeared around the bend.
Chapter Two
Kash LeRoux tied his boat to the dock and switched off the engine. He grabbed his bag of goods and climbed onto the deck, his senses trained on his surroundings.
The ancient Voodoo priestess, Celia Battiste, was at it again. Though Kash couldn’t prove it, he’d be willing to bet his land that Celia had been behind the latest attempt on his life.
It wasn’t so much Kash that she wanted as Mauve…the woman who’d raised him.
Mauve LeRoux had been the last of her kind for many years. A Rougarou, as legend would have it; half-human/half-beast…a werewolf. She’d found Kash on the banks of the bayou after a boating accident had taken the lives of his parents. He’d barely been four years old at the time.
Kash could no longer remember his parents’ faces. He only knew that he’d been presumed dead as well. The authorities had discontinued the search for him after two days, assuming he’d been devoured by the elements. Little did they know he resided deep in the swamps of Louisiana in a place no longer on the map; a place called Saint Malo.
Kash sauntered up the dock, his boots slapping on the wood to drown out the inhabitants of the marsh.
He jumped up onto the steps to the cedar-framed house he’d built a few years back and opened the screen door. “Mauve?”
The sound of her light snoring told him that she slept.
Though Mauve only lived a short distance down the bayou, Kash had demanded she stay with him until Celia could be dealt with.
He quietly put away the few items he’d obtained from town and moved out onto the back porch. Celia was out there somewhere, planning, scheming, and no doubt furious that Kash still lived. For as long as Kash lived, the Voodoo Priestess would never get her hands on his coveted blood…or Mauve’s.
Dropping his weight into his favorite chair, Kash lifted his half-smoked cigar from the small table next to him and brought it to his lips. He plucked up his lighter, lit the tip, and closed his eyes in pleasure. He’d always loved the sweet smell of a cigar.
Laying his head back against the chair, he allowed the sounds of the elements to enchant him. Crickets sang from their hidden dwellings along the swamp, keeping harmony with the bass of the bullfrog. The growl of a hungry gator soon joined in, creating a symphony of sounds that represented home.
A pair of pale-blue eyes flashed through Kash’s mind, bringing him out of his relaxed state.
Kash slowly lifted his eyelids in time to watch the sun disappear over the horizon. Who was the blonde-haired beauty he’d seen back at the Bickford’s place? The corner of his mouth lifted. He didn’t know, but he would damn sure find out.
“I had a dream,” Mauve rasped, ambling her way onto the porch to join him. She took a seat in a rocking chair, her gaze on the bayou beyond.
Kash knew better than to speak. He would hold his tongue until Mauve revealed her thoughts.
She stretched her leg out, touched her bare toe to the floor, and sent her chair into a rocking motion. “I saw Celia, her head hidden beneath a cloak. She sat in the center of a dark circle. A fire burned behind her, illuminating her covered head. The circle began to move, revealing dozens of crows, standing wing to wing.”
Kash listened intently, envisioning the scene Mauve laid out before him.
Mauve continued, “The time had come for me to end her. I reached into my skirt pocket and withdrew a dagger. As I drew near, the crows parted to allow me entrance into the circle. Celia rose to her feet, pushing the cloak’s hood back as she stood. Gone were the black eyes, the wrinkles. In her place stood a blonde-haired beauty with sky-blue eyes.”
Kash’s gut tightened. The image of the woman at the Bickford’s place returned full force. “I’ve seen her.”
“You’ve seen Celia?” Mauve twisted her head toward him, her eyes burning with a knowledge that came only from age and experience.
He shook his head. “No, the woman with blonde hair and sky-blue eyes.”
A golden hue swirled in Mauve’s own eyes. “Something is amiss.”
“What do you think it means?”
Mauve continued to stare, her chair creaking with every rocking motion it made. “I’m not sure, but the woman with the sky-blue eyes must not be left alive.”
Kash clenched his jaw. “You want me to kill her?”
“If Celia gets to her first, it will change everything. I don’t know how, I only know that it will. My visions never lead me wrong.”
Kash didn’t relish killing the blonde. But he’d do what had to be done to ensure their survival. “I’ll take care of it.”
Mauve stopped rocking. “With every soul that Celia takes, she becomes stronger. Yet I’ve never known her to change appearances. There is something different about this one. I can’t imagine what that could be, but I know what I saw.”
Kash pushed to his feet, set his cigar in the ashtray and laid his hand on Mauve’s boney shoulder. “The items you wanted from town are on the kitchen table.”
“She must not be left alive, Kash. For any reason.”
“I know.”
Chapter Three
Charlie added some bubbles to the bath she was drawing and stripped out of her clothes. The scented candles she’d recently lit smelled of coconut and honey.
She rubbed the back of her neck, gritting her teeth against the pain of the migraine that had rapidly appeared. She’d taken one of the pain pills the doctor had prescribed and anxiously waited for it to kick in.
Stepping over the side of the tub, Charlie moaned in pleasure as the steamy heat of the water rose up her legs. She twisted the silver knobs to the off position and slowly sank down into the bath’s heated depths.
A feeling of calm overtook her, sending her body into a relaxed state of bliss. The pill had finally taken hold.
Charlie had been experiencing the migraines more frequently of late, which meant the tumors continued to grow. She also knew that if she couldn’t locate the Voodoo priestess, or if the tales of the woman’s powers were a myth, she would die…and soon.
She lifted her heavy gaze to the ceiling, wondering for the thousandth time if God truly existed. And if he did, why had he allowed this cancer to suck the life from her body?
Charlie wasn’t sure how to pray or if it would do her any good if she did. Being raised in a family who believed in evolution and the big bang theory, she’d never considered praying. She considered it now.
“God,” she whispered, her words slurring slightly due to the pain pill, “if you really do exist, and you’re up there somewhere, listening, would you mind taking a moment to hear me out?”
She took a steadying breath, sinking deeper into the water’s depths. “I’m not ready to die. I want things…” Her voice caught, and tears sprang to her eyes. “I never had a chance to have a family…a child of my own.”
Charlie hadn’t meant to cry, but the tears fell unbidden. “Why me?”
Silence. What had
she expected, the ceiling to part and a bright light to shine down upon her?
With a shuddering sigh, Charlie soaped up a washcloth and dragged it slowly up and down her arms. If there truly was a God, he certainly wasn’t listening to her.
She wondered how her death would affect her father. He’d slipped into a severe depression after losing his wife. Charlie hated to think of what would become of him once his only daughter left him, too.
Her eyes grew heavier, until she could hold them open no longer. She laid her head back against the tub and succumbed to the pull of the drug.
Steam swirled through the small bathroom in a gray fog of mist that took Charlie’s breath. She attempted to stand, but something held her down.
A scuffling sound echoed inside the room, telling Charlie she was no longer alone. “Who’s there?”
The mist parted, giving way to a darkly cloaked figure, small and hunched over. “Do not fear me, Charlene.” The voice definitely belonged to a woman.
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. The cloaked figure knew her name. “Who are you?”
“I am the one you seek. I have been expecting you.”
“Celia?” Charlie breathed, suddenly terrified.
The Voodoo priestess pushed back the hood of her cloak to reveal an ancient face riddled with lines. Her eyelids sagged to the point Charlie could barely make out the color of her eyes. But she saw enough to know they were an oily black, and that terrified her all over again.
“Y-you do exist.”
“I do. I felt your presence the moment you entered my bayou. You are dying.”
Charlie’s throat went dry. “Yes.”
Celia moved in closer to hover above the tub. She lifted a hand and dragged a bony finger down Charlie’s face. “I can save you.”
Charlie’s heart began to thunder. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t seem to come.
“For a price.” Celia coasted her finger down the other side of Charlie’s face. “So beautiful.”
Heroes Among Us: A Paranormal Romance Collection Page 11