Sweet Evangeline (Moon Magic Book 2)

by Sable Hunter

  “Don’t you remember reading in the newspapers about Jade’s accident and how they thought he would never recover or even walk again?”

  Eric thought for a moment. “Yes, I do. That was wild. It was all over the news that there was no hope for him and then all of a sudden he was healed.” As he said the words, he began to look at her funny. “What? Are you telling me that you had something to do with that?”

  “Me? Very little. I was there. But Grandmother and Arabella healed Jade. We performed a healing ritual on him and in days, he was almost as good as new.”

  Eric was flabbergasted. “How? How does a witch heal anybody?”

  “Age old formula, sweetheart—faith, love and intent—Grandmother washed his body in water mixed with healing herbs. Then she brushed a lodestone over him numerous times, each time dipping it in the water to transfer the harm-causing problem from Jade to the water. She also used a fossil that came from Enchanted Rock, where he had fallen, in a type of sympathy magic. But perhaps the most powerful thing that happened was when we all laid our hands on him and called down power. I can still remember how hot Arabella’s hands became as she willed Jade to move again.”

  Eric could tell that Evangeline believed every word she said. “Is that how you healed my burn?” He asked softly, not sure he wanted to hear the truth.

  “We use herbs to heal, mainly. I made a paste for your arms out of aloe vera, you knew that is good for burns, plus Echinacea, St John’s Wort and Calendula.”

  “That’s all you did, just put herbs on it?” He could handle herbs.

  Evangeline swallowed, looked him straight in the eye, and spoke as if she was confessing a deep secret. “No, applying the herbs wasn’t all I did. I said a blessing over it, an ancient Germanic blessing, actually. Then I blew on it and made the sign of the cross over it. But mainly, I held you tight and willed your burn to heal and your body to strengthen.”

  “That just sounds a lot like prayer and positive thinking to me.” Eric was trying to understand.

  “It is. That’s a really good way of looking at it.”

  “But who is it exactly that you pray to?” Eric didn’t want to ask, but he just had to know.

  Evangeline smiled, weakly. “Eric, sweetheart, I don’t worship the devil,” she assured him.

  “I didn’t say that.” He could no more believe that of Evangeline than he could of himself. “I just want to understand.”

  “We believe in God. In fact, if you were to ask Nanette what religion she was, she would tell you Catholic. When we’ve gone to church, that’s where we go.” Eric seemed to look relieved, so she continued. “But there’s more to it than that. We believe that God is not just a male figure, but that he has female attributes, also. Did you know that one of the Hebrew names for God is El Shaddai?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard the Amy Grant song by that name sung in church.”

  “Do you know what El Shaddai means?’

  “No.’

  “It means ’The Breasted One’ or ’The Nurturer’. So we recognize God as both male and female, the God and the Goddess. We also acknowledge, not worship, the powers that God has created. And by that I mean the archangels, the elements, the natural powers such as herbs and gemstones. We believe that everything has spirit and power and that that power can be accessed and used to manipulate events and people.”

  “So you manipulated me?” Eric didn’t even intend for those words to come out of his mouth, but they did.

  She hung her head. “Yes, in a way.” She picked up his hand, grasping it tightly. “I was so lonely. Yet, I couldn’t bear to enter into a relationship with someone who was not my heart’s intended, my soul mate.” He squeezed her hand back, giving her strength to continue. “I wanted to see your face, so I took a scrying mirror…”

  “Explain, scrying mirror,” he insisted.

  “It’s mirror whose reflective surface has been painted black and it has been charged and by that I mean sanctified, set aside, a prayer of intent has been offered over it.“

  “All right, continue.” He still didn’t know what to think, but he was willing to listen. It was all still way too strange for him.

  “I cast a circle.” At his confused look. “I’ll demonstrate to you later, I promise. After I cast the circle, I lit a candle and said a prayer, a spell, an incantation—whatever you want to call it, and I asked to see the face of my beloved.” At the term of endearment, his pulse jumped and he couldn’t help but reach over for a kiss. She welcomed him, as she always did. But she soon started speaking again. “After a few moments, your image appeared.” Evangeline closed her eyes. “I thought you were too beautiful to be real, so I named you Angel.”

  Oddly enough, all of this was beginning to sound real to Eric. He gathered her close and she continued. “I looked for you everywhere, and at night I would fantasize about you. The fantasies became dreams and sometimes it was hard to tell whether they were in my head or not. Soon, even they weren’t enough. I was impatient for you to find me, for me to find you. So, I went down to the banks of Lady Bird Lake and I sent out a call from my spirit to yours. I asked the powers that be to set the wheels in motion that would bring you to me, that would make our paths cross. But I asked that there be no chains. By that, I mean, I called for you to come, but I didn’t ask magick to change your feelings. If you were going to want me it was going to be a natural thing, not a magical incantation.”

  “I dreamed about you, too,” he confessed. God, babe, I saw your face, I held your body. I felt your passion. I’ve tried to explain it away, but, I can’t. It was real. You reached out to me and I felt it. One night, I think I even felt your call. I heard your voice. I became restless; dissatisfied with my life and with the way I was living it. I wanted more. I wanted magic; in fact I remember actually saying those words in my mind.”

  “That’s not all I did. When you didn’t come to me as quickly as I wanted, Arabella’s mother Elizabeth suggested a very powerful spell.” She spoke slowly, as if she expected him to stop her from speaking.

  Eric was intrigued. “A powerful spell, tell me more.” A certain part of him was beginning to feel powerful. Being close to her was so intoxicating.

  “Usually, when you cast a love spell, you have something personal that belongs to that individual like a photograph. I had nothing of yours, we had never met. So my aunt suggested that I use the sculpture I made of you.”

  Suddenly, it all made sense to Eric. “The bronzes were part of your magic; they were part of your spell.” His eyes locked onto hers. “Evangeline, I still don’t know exactly how I feel about this, but I will tell you honestly; I have never been more fascinated, intrigued, mesmerized or turned on by anything or anybody in my life—not like this—not like you. And what I’ve got to know—Evangeline, is it real? Is what I’m feeling real?”

  She rose up on her knees and put her arms around his neck. “Oh, sweet baby. It’s real for me. But, as for you? I pray that it’s real. I’ve went back over every word, every thought, every gesture. I did not do anything to manipulate your feelings. But, look at you, and look at me. Anybody else in the world would question why you are attracted to me. I am not in your league; I’m not even in the same ball park as you are.” Tears were beginning to shine in her eyes.

  “Don’t say that. You are perfect. You are beautiful.” He kissed the tears away that were sliding down her cheeks.

  “We have to try and find out. I’m going to do a release spell. I am going to pull back every magical intent I channeled toward you. And here’s what I need for you to do.” He listened, not exactly liking her tone. “I want you to see another woman. I want you to…” she hesitated, as if the very words hurt her to say them. “I want you to have sex with another woman, just to be sure.” Eric was shaking his head, no. But she persisted. “Yes, and I will accept a date from another man.”

  She jumped at his explosion. “No! No! No! Hell no!” In one mighty move, he pulled her onto his lap, holding her tightly against him.
When she was that near to him, he calmed. He hadn’t been yelling at her. “If I’m under your spell, I don’t care. If what I feel is magic, I don’t want to feel anything else. Other women don’t interest me, and the thought of you with another man kills my soul. I can’t stand the thought of it.

  She smoothed his hair. “I didn’t intend to sleep with anyone else, Eric. Just dinner or coffee.”

  “No. I know what can happen after coffee.”

  “Only with you, baby, only with you,” she reassured him.

  Leaning her back against him, he felt more in control. “Tell me more about your family,” he encouraged her, wanting to get her mind off of another man.

  “Do you remember hearing about Jade’s involvement in bringing down the serial killer, Lyle Sessions, who murdered all those women out near Wimberley?’

  “Yea, some women psychics had found the bodies…” Then he stopped, realization hitting him. “Oh, that was your family. My God!”

  “You need to talk to Jade and to Detective Garrison, they can give you some insight into being involved with my family, from a male point of view.”

  The bell went off on the washing machine and Evangeline left to tend to the washing. “I’ll be right back,” she assured him. The clothes in the washer were his, the ones he had worn home from the fire. Not being able to stay away, he followed her. She was putting the clothes in the dryer, and when she backed up, she ran right into him. He steadied her. Thinking about what she did to him in the bathroom, he couldn’t resist asking. “What else can you do?”

  Evangeline decided to show off just a little. It was dark in the laundry room, so an energy ball would shine like a star. She pressed her hands together and concentrated, creating an orb of energy in her mind—a small, glowing, warm ball of light. When she pulled her hands apart, the ball hovered over her hands, dancing like a Christmas decoration.

  Eric stepped back. “Damn!” He reached out to touch it. She held it out to him, willing it to rise. It floated between them, a testament to her power and his acceptance. Then she threw it up in the air, and poof it was gone. Eric laughed and picked her up, swinging her around. “You are amazing!”

  “No, Eric,” she spoke softly. “What’s amazing is that you are here with me, even after everything I’ve told you.” She held one of his big strong hands in her own, hands that were muscled and roughened from the work he did every day. “What’s amazing is what you do with your life—you help people, you put your life on the line, everyday.”

  He picked her up and walked back to the couch with her. “Tell me about your mom and dad,” he encouraged her.

  “I don’t remember my father, other than as somebody big and warm, who held me tight.” At her words, he tightened his hold on her, giving her that same, safe warm feeling she remembered. “Katrina took Mama when I was sixteen. I moved in with Nanette and Angelique in their big house in the Garden District of New Orleans. And that piano music that you heard, Eric—I know you’ve heard way more than most people could process in a year’s time, much less a day. But that music, it’s Mama, and just a day or two ago, I heard her voice.” Evangeline was still massaging his hand, remembering the day she sculpted it out of clay.

  “Did you tell your grandmother about it?”

  “Yes, and Angelique is gifted in that area. Sometime I’ll explain to you about our individual gifts, but Angelique can see spirits. She is the one that connected with the spirits of those murdered women out at Wimberley. And she says that whatever I am hearing, it’s not my Mama’s ghost.”

  “I can’t say, I’m not relieved. It’s hard enough, thinking that your grandmother is aware when I make love to her granddaughter. I’d hate to think your mom was watching us.” He teased the edge of her mouth with his tongue. “So, you never mentioned the word, but you’re not Wiccan?”

  “No, we’re not Wiccan, this isn’t a religion for us it’s a way of life. We’re magical by birth, not by a religious decision. But our kind is fairly prevalent in the rural south. Around New Orleans, using a mojo hand or a gris-gris bag to assist you in your wants and wishes is common practice.”

  Eric listened patiently, but the word ’mojo’ seemed to amuse him. He nuzzled her neck, “I thought ‘mojo’ was sex-drive or whatever you call the wild attraction that kept me dancing to your tune all morning.”

  “That’s a popular usage of the word, but not the most correct.” She laid her head under his chin, content to rest in his arms as she talked. “Magick was always a part of my life. When we were sick, a doctor wasn’t our first move—sometime he wasn’t necessary at all. If there was danger—a gun was not our first weapon of choice—a spell would be cast or a ward put up. When we get through talking, I’ll take you up and show you my ‘craft room’ and all the things I use in my magick.”

  “I want to see everything, sweetheart.” Evangeline looked at him, and he was getting that dreamy, sexy, ‘I want to kiss you’ look in his eyes.

  “I had friends, I graduated high school, I even went two years to Tulane. My nights were spent leading a supernatural tour group around New Orleans.”

  “Tell me about it that sounds wild.” He was just about to take her in his arms, when it dawned on her what time it was.

  “Eric, I’ve got to go to class!” She pushed out of his embrace, then she stopped and looked at him. “Will you be here when I get back?”

  “Where else would I be?’ She kissed him three times on the lips; hard, in quick succession. “I’ll fix your lunch when I get back.”

  * * * *

  Eric lay back and let the last thirty-six hours play through his head. His world had been turned upside down by the dark-haired siren of his dreams. Stretching languidly, he decided that life was wonderful. He didn’t understand everything that had happened, but he was sure there was a logical explanation—and if there wasn’t, he didn’t care. Evangeline was perfect— beautiful, sexy and just exactly what he had been hungry for. That she believed in things that were new to him wasn’t a major concern. He was sure they could find some common ground.

  Wandering to the kitchen, he decided to surprise Evangeline and fix her some lunch. He had yet to provide her with a meal, and she had cooked for him twice. Delving into her refrigerator he decided on grilled cheese and BLT’s. Her class would be over before noon and he wanted to have it ready when she got back. Gathering the condiments, his eyes landed on a jar of honey and suddenly he was inspired. Taking the honey out, he made plans for a romantic interlude.

  * * * *

  Maurice Duvalier held the snake up even with Aimee’s face. “You either do what I say, or I will throw you into a pit full of these vipers.” Terror consumed Aimee. She hated snakes! But she hated Duvalier more! He had stolen five years of her life. And she swore on all that was holy, her time under his thumb was about to end. “Now tell me, cher, when will Korzac’s shipment of heroin arrive?”

  Aimee watched Zac. She knew that if she didn’t tell Duvalier, he would just go over and start torturing Zac. Aimee couldn’t let that happen. That boy had come to mean the world to her, almost as much as her Evangeline. ‘Oh, Evangeline, Evangeline—I’m not dead, Evangeline.’ Her thoughts were screamed out into the ether. But she knew they didn’t get very far. Duvalier collected people of magick. And Zak and Aimee weren’t the only ones. Also residing in the Bayou hideout was Black Eddie, one of the most powerful voodoo men Aimee had ever known.

  Angelique had spoken of Black Eddie with fear in her voice. And he had lived up to all of her warnings. After Aimee had been fished out of the black flood waters of Katrina, Black Eddie had seen to it that none of her attempts to contact her family were successful. He, along with a half a dozen other powerful conjurers, had put up an impenetrable wall that no amount of psychic or magical power of hers could penetrate. But what Black Eddie nor Duvalier had realized was that Zak—sweet, young Zak was the most powerful one of them all. And Zak was going to help her go home. Aimee promised herself that this nightmare was soon going to com
e to an end. She was going to go home to her family, and she was going to make sure that Zak went with her.

  * * * *

  Evangeline walked back to her house, holding her breath until she could see his black Camaro in her driveway. He was still there. Then, she couldn’t help herself, she broke into a run. Much like she had waited the other day, he stood in the doorway watching for her. She literally flew up the steps and into his arms. “Hello, witch, are you hungry?”

  “For you.” His use of the term witch thrilled her, because from his lips it had sounded like the sweetest term of endearment.

  “If you’ll eat a sandwich, I think we can sneak in a bit of loving before your two o’clock class.”

  “Now, I won’t be able to eat.” And she wasn’t kidding, at his mention of loving her, everything below her waist had liquefied.

  “Yes, you can.” He pulled out a chair for her. “I made grilled cheese and BLT’s. Which one would you rather have?”

  “Cheese.” She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.

  “How was class?” He tried to make conversation.

  “Fine. Boring. I resented being there, because you were here.”

  “Eat.” He poured her a glass of tea, she loved that he cared enough to wait on her.

  “I held my breath, until I saw your car. I was terrified that everything I told you this morning would scare you off.”

  “Baby, I don’t scare very easily.” She watched him. He was so powerful. His shoulders were so wide and his chest so heavily muscled. His arms strained the sleeves of his T-Shirt, yet she knew that he was totally vulnerable to her and it was her duty to keep him safe.

  “I know, but I never want you to be hurt or made to feel uncomfortable by anything I do. I didn’t think I would ever say this, but I would walk away from it all for you—the magick, the spells, even my family—you are more important than all of it put together.” Evangeline hadn’t planned on saying any of that, but it was true.