Black Magic Lover

by Cynthia Cooke

  “Do you think this was my mother’s altar?”

  “Perhaps. They said she was a voodoo priestess. She and Mary ran Voodoo Mystique together.” But he knew better. It hadn’t been Delilah up here on those late dark nights. It had been his mother.

  Laura grimaced. “What is a voodoo priestess, exactly?”

  “A person who performs rituals and spells. The altar could have been hers originally, but it doesn’t look like it’s been sitting here untouched all this time. That blood looks recent.”

  “Drew,” she hesitated. “Do you think… Is it possible…?”

  The hopeful tone of her voice said it all. “Do I think your mother is alive and hiding in the swamp?”

  She nodded.

  “No,” he said. Brutal, blunt and honest. “Not without anyone seeing her all these years.”

  Laura sighed, and the hope shining in her eyes faded to disappointment. “I know. You’re right. I guess I want her to be alive so much, I’m willing to believe anything.”

  “Family is a powerful thing.”

  She turned away from the altar and walked back toward her mother’s boxes.

  Suddenly, a thick, musky odor drifted through the air and he knew exactly what Laura had smelled earlier.

  The scent of blood.

  He left the altar and hurried back across the room.

  Laura stopped in front of her mother’s bins and pulled a small doll off the top. “From all the stuff my mother left behind, I don’t believe she had planned on leaving here that night.”

  “It doesn’t look like it.”

  Laura turned to him, her big blue eyes wide with vulnerability. He hated it when she looked at him like that. She was too hard to resist, to turn away from.

  “I’m afraid something bad happened to her.”

  “If that’s true, the best thing you could do, the safest thing you could do, would be to get on a plane and go home.”

  “I know that. Deep in my gut, I know I should leave. But I just can’t. Not yet. This is my last chance to discover the truth.”

  “You realize you might never find out why she left you.”

  “I know. But you have to understand, after I got that phone call, I allowed myself to hope, to imagine that she was alive and had been living out here all this time.” Tears welled in her eyes and tore at his heart. “I’ve been such a fool.”

  He stepped forward and, against his better judgment, pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, nestling close. He burrowed his head in her hair and breathed deep her sweet scent. Her breasts pressed up against him, leaving him wanting so much more. He wanted to taste her lips, to feel their softness, to lose himself in her touch, her taste.

  But he couldn’t let her lean on him. If he did, then she’d stay. And then he wouldn’t be able to stop what would happen. He wouldn’t be able to save her from death.

  “You’re not a fool for wanting a family, but Laura, it isn’t safe for you here. Most likely you will never find the answers you’re searching for. There’s a lot of swamp out there, a lot of ways to make someone disappear. Go home. Hire a detective if you must have answers, but please, leave here as soon as possible.”

  She stiffened in his arms. “I know leaving is the logical, rational thing to do. But I can’t go. Not yet.”

  She stepped back from him, clutching the small doll in her hand. “I can’t leave Louisiana until I know for sure whether or not my mother is dead.”

  Drew could tell by the stubborn tilt to her jaw that there would be no arguing with her. He sighed and picked up one of her mother’s boxes. “Let’s say we get out of this dusty attic and take a couple of these downstairs. We can go through them in your room.”

  “Sounds like a great idea.”

  She bent over to pick up a box. Her blouse opened revealing soft, ample breasts cupped in white lace. Heat rolled through him. He took a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts, then followed her down the stairs, close enough behind that he caught her scent—sweet and seductive. He tried to ignore it, even as his blood pumped through him, heightening his senses, making him acutely aware of her every movement. He had to stop thinking about her that way. She could never be more than a friend to him.

  A friend who was about to die.

  He followed her into her room, flipped on the light then set the box on the floor next to the French doors and settled next to it. He lifted the lid, not certain what he’d find, but fairly sure it wouldn’t answer Laura’s burning questions of what happened to Delilah.

  Sitting across from him, Laura reached in and pulled out a flowery blouse. She held it under her nose, inhaling deeply.

  “It’s been a long time. It probably only smells of dust,” he said.

  “You’re right.” She smiled, a sad smile that tweaked something deep inside him. “So, tell me a little something about Drew,” she said, digging deep into the bottom of her box.

  He stiffened. There were so many things about himself that he could never share.

  “Not much to tell. After you left here, this house got pretty quiet. There wasn’t any more laughter, alligator hunts or water fights in the front yard.”

  “Sounds like we had fun.” Her voice caught and she quickly turned away.

  “What I’m saying is that I went away to boarding school not long after you left. And as hard as I’m sure San Francisco must have been for you back then, it really was better than being here in the swamp all by yourself.”

  “Maybe,” Laura answered without meeting his gaze. She continued pulling sweaters out of the bottom of the box.

  “Has your life been that…lonely?” he asked. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was hoping to hear. He couldn’t imagine a woman as beautiful as she was not having a line of men waiting for her back home.

  Laura took a deep breath. “No, of course not. I have friends. A great job. Great boss.”

  “Boyfriends?”

  She looked at him, meeting his gaze for a long moment. “There have been a few, but no one at the moment.”

  Relief loosened the tension in his shoulders, which concerned him even more. Her personal life shouldn’t matter to him. “Hey, look at this,” he said and held up a picture of the two of them as children wearing bathing suits and wide toothy grins.

  “I remember that day,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “Yes, your mom had given us ice cream and I’d gotten mine all over my bathing suit. She’d turned on the sprinklers and told us we weren’t allowed back into the house until every speck of chocolate was gone.” Laura smiled and stared at the picture.

  He liked it when she smiled. Dammit, he had to get hold of himself.

  “And Papa Paul brought us home that large plastic pool.”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, surprised by the details she was able to recall. “Are your memories coming back?”

  She looked pleased. “Little things here and there.” Her hand moved up his arm as she reached for the picture. Just a small trail gliding along his skin, and yet, the impact of her touch shook him to the core. He wanted her. More than he could remember ever wanting another woman.

  She continued talking, rambling almost as if she was trying to pretend that they were two old friends reminiscing, that everything was normal…ordinary. When they both knew it wasn’t. In an obvious attempt to put space between them, he shifted away.

  “What about you?” she asked. “What has your life been like since you left here?”

  “I’m a lawyer in Atlanta.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because when you get an idea in your head, you don’t give up trying to prove your point.” Her voice made a slight throaty sound.

  “Is that right? And how would you know that?”

  “Look how many times you’ve told me to go home.” Her gaze focused on his lips.

  He swallowed.

  She moved closer.

  “I’m worried about you,” he defended. “I hop
e there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “No. Worry is good. I’ll take it to mean you care.”

  Again her gaze held his and his heart kicked up a beat. He should leave. Get up and go right now.

  “I do care,” he said, his voice sounding softer than he intended. “Which is why I think it would be wiser for you to pack up and go.”

  “I’m a big girl,” she said with a slight curve to her luscious mouth. Her tongue slid out and moistened her lower lip.

  He fought the images of what her tongue might feel like against his skin and took a deep breath to calm the heat rushing through his veins.

  Laura leaned toward him. “A friend of mine recently told me that I need to stop letting life pass me by, that I need to take control of my own destiny. If I want something, I should go after it with all I’ve got.”

  His mouth went dry. “Sounds like good advice.”

  He had to get hold of himself.

  He dug into the box hoping to find something to distract him from how closely she was sitting next to him, and how good she smelled. Longing rushed through him. She reached inside the box, too. Their fingers brushed. Their eyes met. He pulled away.

  “Sometimes our destiny is chosen for us and there’s not much we can do to change it,” he said, his voice cracking. He couldn’t stand the idea of not being able to see her again, of not being able to touch her. To see if this connection they had between them was real.

  Her foot brushed against his. “Do you really believe that?”

  Did he? “I think I’ll go get another box.”

  “Okay. Me, too.”

  He stood. She bumped into him. She steadied herself, her hands braced against his chest. His arm wound around her waist to support her. Suddenly he was holding her against him, staring down into her face, looking at her full lips, wanting more than anything to dip his head and kiss her.

  He didn’t know who moved first, but before he had time to think his lips were smothering hers. She gave a soft whimper of pleasure, her palms flattening against his chest, her long hair brushing against his arms, tickling his skin.

  His tongue swept the inside of her mouth, tasting, devouring. She pressed her body against his, her firm breasts pushing against his chest. Hunger pulsed through him. And a yearning that was almost more than he could bear.

  He’d spent most of his life distancing himself from people, rarely getting close, and throwing all of his energy into his work. He didn’t make time for relationships, for the simple pleasure of touch.

  He couldn’t take that chance.

  He had never loved because he couldn’t risk seeing the horror fill a woman’s eyes the moment she found out the truth about him, when she discovered his curse. And this time was no different.

  He pulled back, breaking free.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and he was. Kissing Laura was a violation of everything he believed, everything he knew. She had a date with death and he could have no part of it.

  Chapter 7

  A few hours later, Laura had unpacked and repacked almost all of her mother’s boxes and, unfortunately, had learned nothing new. She and Drew had decided earlier that after such a long day, a simple dinner would be best. She walked into the kitchen and found him sitting at the table by himself eating a bowl of soup.

  “You should have called for me. I would have come earlier,” she said, and pulled out a chair.

  “I didn’t want to bother you. Corn bread’s in the oven.” He stirred his soup and took another bite without looking up.

  She walked toward the oven, slightly confused by his cool demeanor. “Where’s your mom?”

  “She took a bowl with her to her rooms down the hall.” He gestured behind him, beyond the kitchen, without smiling or even looking at her. “She said she wanted to go bed early.”

  Laura stared at him for a moment. What was up with the sudden chill? She hadn’t known why he apologized after he kissed her. She certainly hadn’t minded. And quite a kiss it was. She was still feeling the effect of belly-meltdown.

  Afterward, he’d brought down all the boxes from the attic then without saying another word, quickly excused himself. Apparently, their kiss hadn’t affected him as strongly as it had her. She sighed then filled up a bowl of the soup and took a piece of corn bread out of the oven.

  “Any ideas about what we should do tomorrow?” she asked, trying to engage him in a conversation, or at least get him to look at her.

  “Get a good night’s sleep.” Drew’s eyes met hers. “We’ll brainstorm what to do next in the morning.”

  He got up, put his dishes in the dishwasher and left the room. She stared at his back as he retreated. Was it too much to hope for a smile? A hug? A good-night kiss?

  Apparently.

  Feeling disheartened and slightly sorry for herself, she quickly ate then took care of her own dishes and walked up the stairs. She hoped he would still help her with her search. When she finally remembered what had happened to her mother, she didn’t want to be alone.

  If she remembered. When she was a teenager, a doctor had tried putting her on some kind of drug to help her recall what had happened to her. The effect had been brutal, the nightmarish memories causing pain and torment. He quickly took her off the drugs. She had never tried to shake those memories loose again. Never wanted to.

  Until now.

  At the top of the stairs, she flipped on the light switch and illuminated the darkened hallway. She walked by her mother’s pictures, but this time didn’t look at them. Right now she didn’t want to think about her mother or about what had happened. She didn’t want nightmarish dreams or disjointed images to assail her sleep.

  She stayed as far from the door to her mother’s room as the wide hallway would allow and still, her heart kicked up a beat as she passed by it. Her strange reaction was unlike any she’d had before. The monster from her nightmares must live in that room and at some point she’d have to face it if she wanted to remember what happened.

  Laura tripped on a frayed piece of carpet that had pulled loose and bounced off the wall. Drew was right. This house was old and moldy and, most of all, creepy. So far, meeting Drew again had been the high point of this whole trip.

  She touched her fingers to her lips and thought about the way he had kissed her. So why the sudden chill? What was he afraid of? She walked into her room, switched on the light, then closed the door behind her. She crossed to the French doors, and pulled shut the drapes. But as she did, she caught a flicker of movement on the water.

  Was someone out there? Not wanting to be seen, she turned off the light, then opened the doors and slipped onto the balcony.

  Beneath the faint light of an antique lantern, the tall possum hunter she’d seen earlier stood on a flatboat, gliding across the glassy surface of the swamp. The red glow of a cigarette burned brightly between his lips. He turned toward her.

  Laura stepped back into the dark shadows of the house. Could he see her? When he didn’t turn away, she slid back into her room and locked the doors behind her. What was he doing out there? Possum hunting? The words ricocheted through her mind, but didn’t dispel the unease spreading through her.

  She stood still, the total darkness of the room pulsating around her.

  “There’s nothing here,” she whispered. Nothing to be afraid of. Logically, she knew it was true and yet, her heart beat faster. Her palms dampened. She rubbed them across her jeans. She’d let that man spook her. She needed to toughen up or she wouldn’t last a week in this house.

  She pulled on the drapes, parting them slightly. A shaft of moonlight sliced through the room. She changed into thin cotton shorts and a T-shirt and slid beneath the covers.

  “Nothing here,” she muttered again, and as her head hit the pillow, fatigue fell over her like a heavy cloak.

  Maybe Drew was right. Maybe she should put the past behind her and go home. She pictured his green eyes and felt a small catch in her chest. She thought of his voice, deep and sultry with
the slightest twang of a Louisiana accent, and his hands—soft, gentle, hungry.

  He had kissed her like a man starving for her touch. They’d clung to each other as if they were the only two people left in the world. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She knew it. Kisses don’t lie. So why had he pushed her away?

  She fell asleep, thinking about his lips, his tongue. And the way his warm hands might feel tangled in her hair, moving down her neck, making a slow perusal of her collarbone. He’d linger on her breasts, circling, measuring their weight and absorbing their softness before moving down her belly and…

  Laura’s eyes flew open. It was still dark. How long had she been asleep? Then she felt it—a slight lift of the sheets, a flutter of movement at the foot of the bed. She shifted, her body tensing. A sinewy smoothness moved against her foot…her knee…up her thigh.

  A high-pitched scream burst like fire through her fear-tightened chest. She pulled her knees up then rolled out of the bed. Her feet catching on the blankets, she tumbled onto the floor, landing hard on the area rug. She reached upward, groping for the lamp on the bedside table. Her arm brushed against something and it crashed to the floor, shattering.

  She scurried backward away from the bed. Someone pounded on the door. She jumped, but couldn’t see anything in the dark.

  “Laura!” The door burst open. Light filled the room. Drew stood bare-chested and clad only in boxer shorts. “What is it? What happened?”

  Laura turned to the bed and the tangle of blankets pulled halfway to the floor. She gasped a breath then looked around the lighted room. Nothing—no one there. Had she had another one of her nightmares?

  Heat crept up her cheeks.

  “Laura, speak to me.” Drew’s voice softened.

  She stood, bracing herself against the wall then took a step toward him.

  “Watch out for the glass,” he warned, and stooped to pick up the large shards from a broken vase.

  She inhaled a deep steadying breath and finally found her voice. “There’s something in my bed.”