But the smell wouldn’t go away.
His heartbeat thudded in his temples. Panic shot straight through him. Water sloshed forming a puddle on the balcony floor. He stared down at it, watching it grow. He took a deep breath. “White light, white light, white light,” he chanted under his breath.
“Did you say something?” Laura asked, her voice sounding melodic as she stepped closer to him.
He cringed, moving away from her, the balcony pushing sharply into his gut. He grasped hold of the railing with whitened knuckles. Water droplets fell on the back of his hand. He stared at the drops, watching them pool and run off his skin.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of long black hair dripping swamp water, and squeezed shut his eyes.
“Rest. You should rest,” he muttered through clenched teeth.
“I’m fine.” She touched his arm lightly, barely a touch at all, and yet, a bone-deep chill seeped through him.
This bloody curse.
Seeing ghosts wasn’t bad enough. No, he had to have the visions, too. He had to see those touched by death. He turned back toward the room, stepping through the widening puddle at his feet. He managed to keep Laura in his peripheral vision, and still avoid looking directly at her. He was afraid of what he’d see, afraid of what she’d already become.
His stomach lurched and nausea churned his insides. It had been years since this had happened to him. He thought he’d beaten the visions, thought he was free of them. Why here? Why now?
Why her?
He walked past her into the room. “After you rest, I’ll drive you into town and help get you settled in the Inn. This house is old and moldy, it would be better for you to stay in town.”
“Won’t you be here?” she asked.
“Only for a couple of days,” he answered, while still avoiding looking at her.
“Oh.” Disappointment laced her voice.
His vision started to fold and bend. He hardened his gaze and straightened his spine as he tried to stave off the inevitable.
“Drew,” she said, softly, touching him once more.
He hesitated, not wanting to, but not able to stop himself, either. He turned toward her. He had to see.
Merde. It took everything he had to keep his expression impassive, to keep the air from whooshing out of his chest, the cry from escaping his lips.
This was why the spirits had been circling. His gaze traveled the length of her hair, water-soaked and tangled with duckweed and hanging in wet ringlets across her shoulders. Her yellowed skin was sallow and looked even paler beneath the dark smudges ringing her wide, blue eyes. A gaping hole oozed red from her shoulder—a bullet wound.
Death’s touch clearly placed.
His visions of death hadn’t come often, surely not as often as the spirits themselves. But they had always sickened him, making him feel exactly what he was—powerless. And from the extent of death’s touch in this vision, he’d say Laura only had a couple days before death claimed her.
Damn this curse! Why did he have to know if there wasn’t anything he could do about it? And why Laura? Hadn’t she been through enough? Anger and frustration surged within him, and yet there wasn’t anything he could do to stop what was to come. He couldn’t yell, kick the bed, put his fist through the wall. No, he had to stand there and pretend he didn’t know Laura was about to die.
Defeated, he sat on the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. At one time, he’d actually thought he could save death’s victims. Walking corpses, he used to call them. He thought if he could figure out why death had touched them, he could change their fate, alter destiny. But he had been young and optimistic. Now he knew death couldn’t be defeated, nor destiny changed. He’d traveled down this road too many times before. It only went one way.
The mattress sank as she sat next to him. Reluctantly, he lifted his head and looked at her.
“Drew, I have to believe my mother must have gotten into some kind of trouble to keep her from coming for me. If I could just stay in this house for a little while, I’m sure I’ll be able to remember, or at least figure out what happened to her.”
She said the words completely unaware she carried death’s tragic touch, that she spoke through blue-black lips, cracked and swollen. He turned away again, unable to continue watching, his heart sinking with the knowledge that she didn’t have long to live.
He cleared his throat, trying not to betray the distress echoing through him. “What makes you so sure?”
“I don’t know.” The sadness in her voice plucked at his heart, but it didn’t matter now. There wasn’t anything he could do to help her.
She touched his hand. Torment twisted through him.
“Drew, how much do you remember from when we were children?”
Swamp water leaked from her mouth and ran down her chin.
“Can you tell me? Help me to remember?”
He remembered pulling her out of the swamp. She’d almost died, would have died, if he hadn’t saved her. How was he going to stand by and watch her be taken from him all over again? Only this time for good.
“I remember a lot of things,” he said.
“What can you tell me? Specifically? I know if I could remember more, it would help me find my mother.” Her voice cracked with emotion.
Maybe if he could just persuade her to go home, to get away from the swamp, then she’d be okay. One thing was certain: if she stayed here, she would die.
He turned back to her. She looked normal again—her skin flushed pink and beautiful, her eyes bright and shining. For just a moment, his mind raced as he tried to think of a way to save her, to stop death this time.
But then the futility of his wishes stole back in. There wasn’t anything he could do for her. Soon she would join Paul and all the other troubled spirits who haunted these corridors.
Why had he been able to save her before, if the swamp was only going to claim her anyway?
“What brought you back to Lionsheart?” he asked, his voice tripping over the words. “Now, after all these years?”
Her gaze locked onto his, reaching deep inside him to grasp hold of his heart. “I believe my mother’s here. I think she needs me.”
“No one has seen your mother in years.”
“So I’ve been told, but all that does is make my job harder. I can’t leave until I discover the truth. I need to know why she didn’t come back for me. I need to know whether she’s dead or alive.”
“What do you remember about the last night you were here?”
She bit her lip, her gaze moving to the floor.
“Do you remember anything?”
“No,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I’ve tried, but I only get disjointed images.
“That last night you were here, the last time anyone saw you or your mother, you almost drowned in the swamp.”
She swallowed, her eyes widening.
“Laura, you can’t stay here. You need to go home before…”
“Before?” Her face paled.
“Before it happens again.”
Chapter 3
“I don’t remember almost drowning in the swamp,” Laura said, her gaze shifting to the side. “And even if I did, there’s no reason to think that it could happen again.”
Seeing this was going nowhere, Drew took a deep breath. “I tell you what, let’s go downstairs and get something to eat. We can continue this conversation after we’ve both had a chance to recharge.” He forcibly relaxed and held out his hand.
She slipped her hand in his and a prickle of electricity skittered up his arms. Awareness, thick and hot, shot through him. His breath caught as his gaze fell on the flutter at the base of her throat. For a moment, he longed to taste its sweetness, to run his tongue along the graceful sweeping curve of her neck.
His mouth went dry, as his eyes fell lower.
Beneath the smooth cotton of her blouse, the gentle swell of her breasts rose with each breath she took. Soft. In
viting. He forced his gaze away. He couldn’t be thinking like this. He needed to put her out of his mind and forget about her. And yet, at the same time he felt a need to protect her. To take care of her.
He saved her once, and he felt responsible for her now. That must be why her hand felt right in his. As if it was meant to be there, as if she was meant to be with him.
But she was meant to die.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, her wide blue eyes perusing his face.
He stiffened. “Yes.”
He dropped her hand and stood, then waited for her to precede him out the door. He would have to be careful not to let himself want her. He couldn’t help her. He couldn’t fight death. He’d long ago given up on that fruitless endeavor. And to let himself think about her too much would be disastrous. He closed his eyes and hardened himself to the knowledge that very soon she’d be dead.
The sooner he put some distance between them the better.
The rich aroma of Andouille sausage frying in the pan filled the kitchen as they entered the room.
“Laura, how are you feeling,” his mother asked as she quickly stirred the meat.
“Better,” Laura answered.
Drew led her to the table, pulled out a chair for her and tried not to notice when her hair brushed against his skin.
“Smells great,” he said, striving to think about the food and not Laura.
“I’m sure it’s been a long time since you’ve had gumbo,” his mother said, shaking salt and pepper into the stew.
“None that could compare to yours.” It had been at least ten years since Drew had been home for a visit. He’d been too busy with law school and then working overtime to prove himself to the partners at the law firm. He’d built an impressive track record, becoming very successful, but that didn’t leave a lot of time for a private life or long visits home to the swamp.
For a moment, guilt mingled with a touch of nostalgia filled him. But then, Paul appeared next to his mom and reminded him why he’d left home so early to begin with.
His cousin’s ghost leaned over the pot as if he were inhaling the rich aroma of the gumbo simmering on the stove. He turned to Drew, his mouth curving into a wide, wicked grin.
Martha stiffened, but otherwise made no appearance that she was aware of him.
But she was.
Drew had long suspected that she had the curse, too, and though it wasn’t something she’d ever talked about, Drew knew.
“Need any help?” he asked.
“No, it’s all ready.” She ladled three bowls full of gumbo and placed two of them in front of him and Laura on the table.
“I hope you didn’t go to a lot of trouble,” Laura said, and breathed deeply of the steam rising from the rich brown stew.
“No trouble. I’ve been cooking all day preparing for the party.”
Laura looked up. “Party?”
His mother sliced up thick pieces of French bread and put them in the bowl on the center of the table. “Drew’s turning thirty. A special time in a man’s life. An awakening of his true nature. Around here, we celebrate that by throwing a big bash—an Awakening Party.”
Drew choked on the spicy stew and beat a fist against his chest. He hated it when she did that. Sometimes she could be the sweetest woman, dripping with Southern charm, and then she’d get that far-off look in her eyes and say something truly creepy.
She quickly poured him a tall glass of sweetened iced tea from the pitcher on the counter. He sucked the tea down then handed the glass back to her. “Thanks,” he said as she refilled it then poured two more for herself and Laura.
“Anyway,” she continued. “You’ll have to come.”
Laura leaned back in her chair. “No, I couldn’t crash your party.”
“If you’re still here, you might as well come,” Drew said, though hopefully by then he would be able to convince her to go home. He grabbed a piece of bread and tore off the crust to dip into his stew.
“Of course you’ll come. Jeanne wouldn’t have it any other way,” his mother insisted and joined them at the table.
“Jeanne Larame? My stepgrandmother?”
“Yes, my sister-in-law. Do you remember her?”
Laura shook her head.
“She was Paul’s mom. Your stepdad?”
Drew glanced around the room to see if Paul was still around, but thankfully he’d disappeared, again.
“I remember him.” Laura’s smile was thin and a touch sad.
“And I know Randal can’t wait to see you, Drew,” his mother said, turning to him. “He said something about talking shop.”
Drew nodded, though he wasn’t looking forward to the meeting. He knew what Randal wanted, what he’d always wanted—for Drew to come back home and work at the Larame law firm.
“I like Atlanta,” he said. Even more, he liked how far away he was from this swamp.
“You live in Atlanta?” Laura asked, surprised.
“Yes, I just flew in today for a quick visit before the party. I arrived right before you did.”
“Wow, what are the odds of us both coming back on the same day?”
She had a touch of sauce on the corner of her mouth. He fought an overwhelming urge to lean forward and kiss it away. She brushed her hair off her shoulders and bent over the bowl to take another bite.
“Do you remember gumbo?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off her.
She shook her head. “It’s very good, though.”
“So, where have you been all these years?” his mother asked Laura.
“San Francisco.”
“And your mother wasn’t with you?” She dunked a crusty piece of bread into her stew then looked up at Laura.
“No, I grew up in a boarding school. My mother…
I haven’t seen her in a long time.” Laura stared intently at her bowl.
“That is odd,” Martha said. “Delilah left quite unexpectedly, you know. After Paul’s death none of us blamed her. We figured she wanted to start over somewhere else. But she didn’t say where she was going. I certainly never imagined you weren’t with her. I still find that very hard to believe.”
“Really?” Laura asked, clearly surprised. “Why’s that?”
His mother stood up to clear their bowls. “Because for Delilah, the sun rose and set on you.”
Laura stared at her for a second, her eyes growing misty and filling with pain. Before Drew could ask if she was okay, she stood and stepped back from the table. “Thank you for dinner. If it’s all right, I’d like to go upstairs and unpack.”
Drew stiffened. He’d hoped he could have convinced her to leave before she got settled here.
“Sure. Take your time,” Martha said.
Laura turned and left the room without giving Drew a second glance.
Paul was back, standing in the corner glaring at him as if he expected Drew to do something.
“The poor thing,” Martha said, once Laura was out of earshot. “If Delilah was just going to abandon the girl like that, she should have left her here with us.”
What was it Paul wanted from him? Why couldn’t he just go wherever it was the dead are supposed to go and leave him alone?
“She would have ended up in a boarding school like I did, anyway,” Drew said.
His mother sighed. “I suppose you’re right. The poor girl just seems so sad. Why don’t you run upstairs and check on her?”
Drew took a deep breath and pushed back from the table. He wanted to check on her. He even wanted to be there for her and help her search for the truth about what happened to her mother, but he wouldn’t. If he tried to comfort her, to tell her everything would be okay, he’d be lying.
Everything wasn’t okay, and for her it never would be again. The only way to help Laura now would be to convince her to get as far away from this swamp as possible.
Tears burned in Laura’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Hearing that her mother had actually loved her hit her harder than she
’d expected. All the holidays and vacations she’d spent alone in the dorms waiting for a call, a visit from family, from a mother who hadn’t come, forged holes of doubt in that love, holes so deep, they’d probably never be filled.
With her suitcase in tow, she stopped on the landing and focused on the door to her mother’s room at the end of the hall. She wasn’t sure why she was so afraid of that room, but knew it was the best place to start her search for answers. Determined, she headed down the hall. But with each step forward, her heart beat a little faster.
She racked her brain, pushing at the corners of her memories, trying to recall what the room looked like, smelled like. What could possibly be in there that scared her so much? Her stomach turned. Shadows shifted on the outskirts of her vision.
A feeling of being watched raised the hair on the back of her neck. She stopped and looked around, but saw no one. And yet, the sensation of a breath sliding down her back persisted.
She took another step forward.
“Laura,” Drew called.
She turned and saw him step onto the landing at the top of the staircase.
He was looking past her again with that same pinched expression on his face that he’d worn earlier.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Yes. I thought I’d check to see how you’re doing,” he said as he walked toward her down the hall.
“I’m fine. I was just…” She looked back toward her mother’s room.
“How about we go for a walk?” he asked.
“Now?”
“Sure. Let’s walk off our dinner.” He took her hand in his.
The gesture surprised her and caught her off guard. How was it she felt so close to him, and yet, at the same time, felt as though she didn’t know him at all?
Instead of going down the long drive from the direction she’d come, Drew took her along a path that curved around the back of the house and wound alongside the swamp.
Black Magic Lover Page 3