“I won’t.”
“Nola…”
“Jean Batiste, I would never resent you. But what if we found a way to break the spell, charm, gris-gris, whatever it is?”
“You got magic?” he asked and when she shook her head, he nodded. “I didn’t think so. Do you know a hougan or a mambo?”
Nola grinned. “Actually, I do.”
Johnny crossed himself and his lips moved in silent repetition of the prayer, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, amen”.
“Who?” he said. “Or do I want to know?”
“Tirzah, my college roommate,” she said. “Her grandmother is one. She lives at Morgan City, or she did.”
His dark complexion turned pale enough that he looked sick. “Jesus, you’re serious.”
“Of course I am.”
“We ought not to mess with any of that stuff,” he said. His voice was rougher than she’d ever heard it. “It’ll get you in trouble. I ought to know.”
“True. But maybe it’s the way to get you out of this mess.”
“Oh, me,” he told her. “I don’t feel so good now.”
“Are you ill?”
“Scared,” he admitted.
“I can call Tirzah.” Nola reached for her purse with her phone tucked inside.
“No!” he cried, then drew a harsh breath and held it. “Not yet. Let me think about it.”
She nodded. “Okay. Are you all right? You look like hell.”
“Comme ci, comme ca,” Johnny replied and waggled his hand to indicate not so good.
Concern replaced her urgent need to do something about his shape-shifting life. “What do you need? Is there something I can do? Maybe you should go lie down for a while.”
“Won’t help,” he said. A ghost of his usual grin appeared. “What I need, though, is you, before you change your mind or run out of here and decide I’m too crazy to deal with or something.”
Nola didn’t understand. “I’m here, Johnny.”
The grin expanded across his face. “Oui, but I need at least one time to make memories to remember, just in case.”
Johnny shoved back his chair and offered her his hand. She accepted it, still uncertain if he wanted to dance or talk or what. When he pulled her against his bare chest, then planted his mouth on hers, she understood. Nola kissed him back with all the passionate enthusiasm she could summon.
Heat, powerful as a flame, leapt between them, and she knew they’d make love.
Johnny traced her lips with his finger and she shivered with an erotic chill. “This is what I want, cher.”
Before she could speak, his deft hands shucked her T-shirt and revealed her silk camisole. As he cradled her against his chest, he kissed her throat, then down to the spot between her breasts. Johnny’s breath burned her skin, and although he hadn’t touched them, her nipples grew firm. Nola raked her hands through his hair. He slid one hand beneath her cami, caressed her belly, then worked his fingers upward to stroke Nola’s breast. Her sensitive nipples tightened and an exquisite sensation spiraled through her body, sweet and tense. Johnny lowered one thin strap and bared her left breast. He suckled and her nipple radiated with pleasure. Nola thought she’d come with the intensity of it but steeled herself to wait for much more.
She savored each second of physical delight but Nola longed for kisses, too. With Johnny’s strong left arm beneath her head and body, she shifted upward to put her lips against his. “Kiss me.”
“I can’t say no to a lady,” he murmured as his mouth swooped over hers like an invading army. His lips attached to hers with a vacuum seal and clung tight. Nola’s mouth answered his assault with eager exchange. He tasted of the beer they’d drunk and something more, not quite defined, and she savored it. Johnny’s kiss deepened and in response Nola’s heartbeat kicked into high gear. Her pulse rate increased and her breath slowed as they kissed until she felt dizzy. She enjoyed it too much to quit.
His mouth brought her to the brink and when Johnny cuddled her against his chest and managed to find his feet while still holding her in his arms, Nola thought she’d die with anticipation. He carried her into the bedroom and put her on the bed. With a dancer’s grace and the speed of a stripper, Johnny removed his garments and Nola ogled his lean body. His muscles rippled beneath smooth flesh. He radiated plenty of energy and sensual appeal. Nola reached to unfasten her jeans but he beat her to the act. “Let me,” Johnny said as he worked the zipper and pulled the pants down. Johnny caught hold of her silken panties and jerked them out of the way. Then he lifted her cami over her head and left her bare.
Cooler air from the window blew over her skin and she tingled at the contrast but Nola wasn’t cold. Heat shimmered between their bodies, invisible but real enough to keep back any chill. Nola suffered a series of erotic shivers as Johnny ran his hands over her body. His calloused fingers brushed over her mound and then fondled her pussy. If he didn’t take her soon, she’d pass out or die. Need trumped emotion or common sense.
“Do me,” Nola begged, aware she sounded like a slut, something she wasn’t and had never been. “Oh, please, Johnny, please.”
His already erect dick stiffened as she guided it. In her grasp, his cock burned, hard as a dagger. “Oh, yes, cher, yes.”
Johnny plunged into her soft space and filled it to maximum capacity. He dove deeper as the walls of her pussy squeezed to hold him tight. His little noises, half moans, part groans and uncontrolled outcries, indicated he’d liked it, so Nola repeated. He pulled almost out, then thrust back in and out in a way which sent sweet, erotic sensations through Nola’s body like reengaged electricity. The friction brought her closer to the brink, but Johnny slowed and built toward climax with the skill of a torture master and superb lover. Nola lost herself in the lovely rush of a building orgasm and intense physical pleasure. For a few moments she knew nothing but his body in hers, and nothing else mattered.
He pulled out and shattered her focus. “Now,” Johnny said in a voice hoarse with effort. This time he went into her hard and quick, his cock consuming all the space and impaling her. Nola bucked against him, desperate for release, and her hands clawed his back. If her fingernails were long, she would’ve drawn blood but her close-clipped nails left long red marks, temporary tattoos. They strained together, skin to skin, flesh against flesh, as everything hit. They came in a wild torrent of desire, of delight, and of delicious darkness. Her vision dimmed at the peak and she shouted with wordless exhilaration before they shuddered and collapsed, fulfilled and sore.
Awareness returned in slow stages. Nola sprawled across the bed and Johnny lay beside her, belly down against the mattress. She trailed a languid hand over his sweat-soaked skin and he lifted his face to grin. “That’s just the memory I wanted to make,” he told her.
Sated and joyful, Nola laughed. “We’ll make plenty more,” she replied. “I guarantee.”
He laughed, too, at the way she mimicked his Cajun accent.
Tomorrow, she would convince him they could change his fate. Right now, she wanted to enjoy the moment and him.
Chapter Six
They returned to her grandparents’ old house. For the next two days they did little but enjoy each other in every way possible. They made love, they napped, they fished, and they talked. Johnny cooked Cajun dishes, everything from red beans and rice to a delicious crawfish étouffée. Nola fried the fish they caught and made biscuits but the question of what they would do and what would happen next hovered over them like a heavy thunderstorm. On the third morning, she woke spooned against Johnny, and for the first few moments Nola savored the deepest contentment she had ever known. Outside, birds trilled and sang in the tall trees and the rich scent of honeysuckle drifted in through the open window.
“Cher.”
Something dark in his tone eroded her pleasant mood. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Johnny said. “But I think if you want to call your friend or go visit, you should.”
The last remnants of her drowsiness vanished. “You mean Tirzah? Then you’ve decided we should see what possibilities might exist.”
“Oui.” He sounded sad.
She rolled over so she could see his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes and no,” Johnny said. His fingers stroked the line of her cheek. “I woke up, got to thinkin’, and decided. Sometimes I can control shifting, sometimes not. I like the way we’re livin’ and I’d hate to turn into a gator again very soon. I don’t know if anything can change but I’m willin’ to try.”
A wave of relief came so strong her head whirled, dizzy. “Oh, I’m glad. I think we can figure something out, I really do.”
His fingers traveled along her skin, caressing and stroking. “I hope so, boo.”
****
Her shoulders ached after six hours behind the wheel, and a headache of major proportions beat within her until Nola thought it would explode. At Morgan City, Louisiana, she headed down the town’s main street, an old-fashioned business district still bustling with shops and stores. On one of the last blocks, she found a parking spot in front of Candles and Cozies, Tirzah’s shop. Nola found it to be both eclectic and charming, a blend of New Age, Wiccan, and Martha Stewart. Apparently enough customers did, too, because so far, it’d been successful.
When she walked inside, a bell over the door chimed and Tirzah looked up from the counter. “Hey, girl!”
“Hey.”
“Grand’mere is in the office,” she said. “Once I told her what you wanted and why, she insisted on coming to town. She says she needs to talk to you face to face.”
Nola nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”
In the moments it took to walk through the shop and into the tiny rear hallway, then turn left into Tirzah’s office, Nola imagined the most terrible tasks possible so that maybe whatever the mambo suggested wouldn’t seem like the worst. She took a long, slow breath and entered.
“Girl, I haven’t seen you in a long time,” the old woman said. If Nola remembered right, her name was Odile. “You’re a woman now, you.”
“Yes.”
“Give me your hand.”
Nola obeyed and shut her eyes at Odile’s touch. Her thin, aged skin contrasted with her supple flesh. The old woman sat silent, holding her hand. Later, Nola would never recall if it had been five minutes or fifteen or an hour. Time seemed to stop during those moments. It might have been imagination or magic. She didn’t know which and cared less.
“You’ve had hard times since I’ve seen you,” Odile said. She released Nola’s hand. “You were hurt and came to the lake to heal. And you have—and found something more.”
“Yes, I have.”
“Tirzah told me your man’s problem, that he was cursed to become an alligator. This is true, no?”
“It is. I’ve seen it myself.”
Odile pressed her lips together and nodded. “He has a good heart, your man, this Johnny Gator.”
Confused, Nola shook her head. “His name is Jean Batiste Loutrel, but he does answer to Johnny.”
“I know.” The two words were simple yet firm. “And he becomes a gator so me, I call him ‘Johnny Gator’. He’s been punished more than enough for whatever wrong the old witch thought him guilty of doing.”
“So how do we break the spell? Tell me what we need to do and we’ll do it.”
Just don’t let it include blood sacrifice. Or anything depraved.
The old woman smiled a gap-toothed grin. “You don’t have do nothing, cher. It will end soon anyway.”
She must’ve missed something, Nola thought, or Odile had. “I don’t understand. How could it just be over?”
“Most spells, unless the voodoo woman is powerful, end with the death of the one who made it,” Odile said. Her voice remained matter-of-fact. “She gonna die soon. Two days, maybe three, I think. Then it should be over because Delphina, she’s no mambo. Her powers are adequate but not strong enough to last past death.”
Nola gaped at her. Could what they sought be so simple? It didn’t seem possible. “Are you sure? How will we know?”
The older woman shrugged. “I suppose when that Johnny Gator don’t shift anymore, then you’d know,” she said. “If you want to be sure, though, there’s a little ceremony.”
“Tell me.”
Odile’s dark eyes glowed. “It’s called a lave-tet,” she said. “It’s like a bath and baptism together. The water cleanses and purifies with the help of some natural things, flowers and herbs and salt. The spell will end anyway, but this will remove any lingering effects or energy. Most of the things you can get here in my granddaughter’s shop, the rest at the supermarket. It’s easy to do.”
Without hesitation, without knowing the details, Nola nodded. “I’ll do it then.”
“Bien,” the old woman said. “There are many versions of the same, some more complicated, some not. This is one of the simplest ones but I know it will work for you and your Johnny Gator.”
An hour later, with the necessary items bought, she hit the highway back to Caddo Lake and Johnny. On the way, she reviewed the steps Odile gave her and sang along to the car stereo.
It’ll work. I know it will. Now we just have to wait until we hear Delphina has died.
The old house on the lakeshore loomed empty, though, when she arrived, and although she called his name Johnny was nowhere to be found. Imagining him to be swimming the dark waters in gator form came all too easily and Nola tried to forget the images in her head. He could be anywhere, gone home or fishing or to town for supplies. Neither of us knew how long my trip would take or when I’d be back so it’s silly to think he should be here waiting.
Nola walked through the house, lonesome and restless. She couldn’t help but worry Johnny might be out on the lake somewhere and in potential danger. If he’d shot and killed gators for the money, so did many others. She worried, too, about the other shifting gators that he’d described, the ones Delphina summoned who had held him in place for the ceremony. As long as the old hoodoo woman lived, she presented a threat. Although Nola wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, she hoped Odile was right about Delphina’s imminent passing.
Uncertain where Johnny might be and when he’d return, Nola settled into one of the porch rockers with a book. She read a little but lifted her eyes from the page often to scan the lake, searching for his familiar johnboat. When the shadows shifted and grew longer, Nola spotted him, maneuvering the craft across the lake water with skill. He brought it to shore and grinned at her. In one hand, he held a stringer of bass. “You’re back, cher,” he said. “Is that good news or bad?”
“Good, I think,” Nola replied. She sketched out what Odile had said and what needed to be done.
Johnny flopped down on the top step with a sigh. “Well, she’s not dead yet, I don’t think. I came by there fishing and she was out on her porch, sunning like an old snake.”
“Odile said ‘soon’,” she said. “Why did you go way back there?”
He shrugged. “Curious, I guess.”
“You’re lucky curiosity didn’t kill the Cajun,” she replied. “So what do you think?”
His lips twisted together into a tight knot. After a long pause, he said, “If Delphina does die, then I’m willing to try the lave-tet. Maybe it will work.”
“You sound like you’re not sure.”
“I’m not.” His laugh sounded a little bitter. “I can hope but I don’t count on nothing till it happens. You want to fry fish for supper?”
Nola gave up further discussion. Nothing could happen until Delphina crossed over. “Sure.”
“Then I’ll clean them,” he said.
By the time the western sky turned orange and purple, they sat down to a feast with fried bass, cornbread muffins, warmed up dirty rice, and corn. Nola enjoyed the food but she liked watching Johnny eat with gusto even more. His shoulders were relaxed and his posture easy. Some of the lines in his face had eased. Just the possibility of putting an end to his
terrible shifting life improved everything.
The first day after her return passed slow, the golden sun baking the bayou waters with languid heat. On the second, Nola told Johnny over coffee and beignets that she had decided to stay, no matter what happened. “I’m not going back to Dallas. I don’t want to be there anymore. I never liked it much, but after what happened I know I would never feel comfortable again.”
His dark eyes met hers. “If you’re not going back, then where will you go?”
Nola reached for his hand. “Nowhere, I plan to stay here. I’ve already contacted the school district to tell them I won’t be back. I may teach again, but here, not there. Maybe I could teach at Marshall or somewhere else close. I want to be with you. We can live in this old house or move to yours. I don’t care, as long as we’re together.”
“What if this doesn’t work?” His voice came out of his mouth very soft, very gentle. “Then what, cher?”
A ball of tears formed in her throat and clogged it. Her chest ached with the need to weep but she forced a smile instead. “Then we live with it,” she said. It wouldn’t be what I want and I don’t know if I can but I will try if I must, because I love him.
Johnny nodded. “All right, then. But we go wait at my house for word and if we do the lave-tet we do it there.”
“Sure, but why?”
He grinned. “I have a bigger bathtub, that’s why.”
Nola smiled back. “That’s reason enough.”
Chapter Seven
It rained hard the second night. Heavy thunder boomed across Caddo and shook Johnny’s house. They sat on the front porch and watched lightning stitch fire across the black sky. The wind picked up and blew the rain toward them. They retreated inside and watched nature’s majestic power through the window.
In the morning, they awakened to the sound of a motorboat approaching Johnny’s makeshift deck with speed. Johnny untangled his arms from Nola and reached for his jeans. “I don’t know what it is,” he said. “But it’s probably important.”
Johnny Gator Page 5