She then walked about a hundred feet along the shoreline to another holder and placed a candle there, too. Drew watched her walk toward the woods to yet another iron holder. There were four in all at each corner of the clearing.
Was everything he’d ever believed about his mother wrong?
“You’re early,” a woman in her mid-forties wearing a deep royal blue robe brushed by him with a large pot in her hand. Had he met her before? He watched her long blond braid swing back and forth as she moved. If he had, he didn’t remember her.
He followed her, walking past a pig roasting on a spit, spinning over a fire pit filled with red-hot stones.
“Curiosity got the better of me,” he confessed, and forced a wide, friendly smile on his face.
“Well, to be honest most of us weren’t sure we could make it happen, but your mom is a very determined lady.” She dropped the pot on a long wooden table filled with an assortment of food.
“Wow, looks like we’re going to have a great feast. I’m getting hungry just looking at it all.”
She smiled, her face lighting up with pride.
“Well, try to hold off a while longer, but if you want to grab a little something when I’m not looking, I certainly won’t notice.” She winked at him and purposefully turned her back.
He rustled the plastic wrap over a plate of cookies, but didn’t take one. Couldn’t. He knew he wouldn’t be able to swallow.
“Wasn’t the party supposed to be tomorrow night?” he asked, taking a chance that she wouldn’t wonder at his question.
“It was, but your mom wanted the timing to be perfect, and she’s always right about these things, you know. But don’t you worry,” she said, flapping her hand against his arm. “It will be wonderful. Even with moving up the ceremony, everything has been running like clockwork.”
She pulled a large Tupperware platter out from under the table and started moving biscuits into a basket.
Why would his mother move up the party? Better question yet, why hadn’t she mentioned it to him?
And then it hit him.
Laura was leaving.
He forced his lips to broaden into a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Thank you for everything you’re doing. I know it’s going to be terrific.”
“You’re very welcome.” She turned back to the table.
Drew quickly looked for his mother before stepping out from under the thatched roof. She was in another enclosure at the water’s edge, sitting in a high-back chair while a tall black man painted wavy blue lines across her cheeks.
What the hell was going on?
Drew moved behind the nearest tree, his fingers digging into the bark as he watched. He could see the blue paint vividly, and as he watched he thought he could feel the brushstrokes sweeping across his cheeks. He lifted his hand to his face as the memories sucked him back into a time he’d forgotten.
To a night many years ago.
“The lines represent the water.” His mother’s voice rose with excitement as she painted his face. “The Great Spirit Kafu talks to me through the water, and after tonight he will talk to you, too. Because we’re special, Drew. We’ve been touched.”
Candlelight flickered across her face, giving her eyes a wild, almost demonic gleam. She took him to the swamp, where he lay on an altar made of wood in the water, surrounded by candles. For hours it seemed he lay there, half dreaming, half sleeping until he heard raised voices speaking about Laura, and about how they couldn’t find her.
Was something wrong with Laura?
Making sure no one saw him, he slipped off his bench, into the water and tried to follow them back to the house. But he was wet and they moved so much faster than he could. Alone, scared and confused, he ran through the darkness until suddenly he was back home.
His heart pounding, he raced up the stairs. Sounds were coming from Miss Delilah’s room. He ran in, stopping just inside the door. Miss Delilah was lying on the floor. Blood covered her head and pooled around her on the floor.
A soft cry exploded from his chest.
Auntie Jeanne stepped toward him.
“Go back to the swamp, Drew.”
He couldn’t make his feet move. “What happened to Miss Delilah? Is she okay?”
Auntie Jeanne bent down and grabbed his shoulders. Her bony fingers digging into his flesh.
He tore his eyes away from Miss Delilah and stared at his aunt. He noticed how wide her eyes were. And how messed up her hair was. Auntie Jeanne never had messed-up hair.
“Drew,” she snapped.
“Wh-what happened to Miss Delilah?” He was too scared to move.
She brushed her thumbs across his cheeks. They came away blue. “Laura needs your help. Go back to the swamp and help her. They’re taking her to the graveyard.”
He heard what she was saying, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Miss Delilah and all that blood. He’d never seen that much blood, not even when cousin Paul shot that pesky raccoon last summer.
“Don’t let Laura down, Drew. You’re a good swimmer. I’ve already called for help but they might not get there in time. I have to take care of her mama now. Okay? Do you understand?” He nodded.
“Good boy. Now go!”
She turned him around and gave him a hard shove out the door.
“Go save Laura!”
He ran out of the house and along the edge of the swamp toward the graveyard. This path was his stomping ground, and even in the dark he knew every step. He heard voices up ahead and saw a small boat out in the water with Laura sitting in the back. Then suddenly someone had a knife. They raised it high in the air. Laura screamed. She jumped out of the boat. Someone had her by the arm, trying to pull her back up, and the knife came down.
Laura sank beneath the water, and all that was left was her red sweater grasped in the man’s hands.
They were trying to kill her! Why would they do that? Laura could swim, but she was afraid of the swamp and would never go in it at night. Not even when he double-dared her.
He wanted to yell, to scream for help. But there was no one to help. The people standing on the shore just watched.
Save Laura! His aunt’s voice yelled in his mind.
It was dark. He was far away. They wouldn’t see him slip into the water. They were too busy watching the boat row back to shore. Drew plunged in and swam as fast as he could while trying not to splash or draw attention to himself.
He heard Laura thrash in the water. Finally, he reached her. She was scared and tired, but unhurt. He grabbed her, holding her head. For a while they were able to tread water, but then she became so heavy he started to sink with her.
He sucked in swamp water and it burned his throat. He started to cry because he knew he was drowning and he would never see his mom again or his dog or Laura.
His awakening wouldn’t be complete, and he would never get to hear the Great Spirit Kafu talk to him.
He felt something against his arm. Then Laura was pulled away from him.
“No!” he tried to scream, but instead swallowed another mouthful of water. The last thing he saw was a bright light, so bright it hurt his eyes, and he wondered if the Great Spirit Kafu was coming for him after all.
Back in the small grove of trees, Drew shook his head to clear the overwhelming feeling of fear and sadness. He rubbed his hands over his face. How could he have forgotten all that? The next morning when he’d woken up in a hospital bed, the nurse had told him that he’d saved Laura. But he couldn’t remember why or from what.
And he’d never seen her again. Until now.
Cold terror brushed down his back. Now he remembered.
He’d saved her from these people.
From his mother.
Nausea cramped his stomach. He bent over, taking deep breaths until the feeling passed. It had been his mother who had tried to kill Laura all those years ago and who planned to kill her now. He’d stake his own life on that.
“Even with moving up the ceremony
, everything has been running like clockwork,” the woman had said.
Tonight!
Drew rushed out of the grove of trees and looked once more at the enclosure with the high-backed chair, but his mother was no longer in it. He searched the clearing, his gaze moving through all the outbuildings, over all the people and still he couldn’t find her.
Had she seen him? Had she gone to the house for Laura?
Panic sliced through him. Not again! He ran back toward his car, searching the parked cars along the way for his mother’s sedan. But it wasn’t there.
Where was she?
He jumped into his car and raced back to Lionsheart not caring about the tree limbs scraping the side of the car, or the rain-washed ruts tearing up the suspension.
“Please be okay,” he pleaded, suddenly certain that Laura would be gone when he got there.
Chapter 14
Laura didn’t know what she expected her mother’s room to look like exactly, but she’d thought it would be dark and dank, and feel like a tomb. What she found was a bright, cheerful room with late-afternoon sunlight pouring in through lace curtains.
The only thing tomblike was a large bouquet of dead flowers sitting on the dresser. They were dry and brittle under her light touch. Why would Martha have left these here to rot? In fact, everything seemed to be exactly as her mother must have left it. If it weren’t for the fine sheen of dust covering every surface in the room, it would look as though her mother had only left five minutes and not twenty years ago.
Laura ran her fingers across the silver comb and brush set sitting on the cherrywood dresser. Perfume bottles and a silver tube of lipstick lay on a mirrored tray. She picked up the tube, twisted the bottom and watched the deep red lipstick rise within its silver canister. The rounded top of the waxy substance was dented, as if it had been dropped.
She focused on the tip of the lipstick. Suddenly she could see her mother swiping it across her lips and smiling at her through her reflection in the mirror. Memories pushed at Laura’s mind: her mother putting on earrings, bending over and smelling a big bouquet of white flowers.
Aren’t they beautiful? Papa Paul sent them.
An icy breath caressed Laura’s cheek.
She shivered and brought a hand to her face. Just as it had earlier in Voodoo Mystique, the sensation that she wasn’t alone slid through her—a furtive movement out of the corner of her eye, a shadow, a presence. She stood still and let her gaze slide through the room, but saw no one.
“Mom?” she whispered, thinking for a crazy second that maybe her spirit was there with her.
Then she shook her head and let out a shaky laugh.
She looked at the dead flowers and wondered if they were the same ones that Papa Paul had sent. Then she walked toward the dark wooden canopy bed covered with an abundance of thick plush pillows and framed with filmy white silk hanging from wooden railings. An old-fashioned lamp with a silk shade and crystal beading sat atop a bedside table. Alongside it, an antique frame held a picture of Papa Paul, her mother and herself looking like the ideal, happy family. Laura picked up the picture and ran her finger across the dusty glass, trying to touch the family they’d once been. A small ache constricted her heart.
What had happened to them?
Sadness filled her, making her limbs feel weak and tired. How could everything have gone so terribly wrong? She approached a standing jewelry box in the corner and opened the doors. Necklaces and earrings of various colors and sizes filled the drawers. Her hand hovered over a large moonstone pendant. She remembered this piece. It had been her mother’s favorite. She’d worn it all the time.
She picked it up and placed it over her head, holding the pendant clutched within the palm of her hand. She couldn’t leave all her mother’s things behind. She opened the closet doors. Her mother’s long flowing dresses still hung inside. A rainbow of colors in cotton, silk and chiffon shimmered on their hangers.
Again she wondered why Martha would leave all these things here after all these years. How could she still have expected her mother to come back? Laura reached out and touched the fabric of an emerald-green dress.
The sweet scent of gardenias filled her nose, and suddenly she could see her mother clearly, she could smell her favorite perfume, could hear her singsong voice echoing through her mind, “Shh baby, don’t say a word.”
Her vision shifted. The room tilted.
She remembered being pushed down on the floor in the closet.
Her heart pounded. She broke out in a cold sweat. Memories assaulted her.
“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay. Stay in the closet.”
Someone else was in the room. Her mommy was no longer smiling. She looked angry, then scared. Her wide blue eyes met Laura’s before she quickly glanced away.
Something was wrong.
Laura did what Mommy wanted. She didn’t make a sound. She didn’t move, although her heart hammered with fear.
Back in the present, Laura’s stomach heaved. She found herself sitting on the closet floor. She covered her face. She didn’t want to see anymore.
Couldn’t see anymore.
But she couldn’t stop the memories from flooding back, couldn’t stop her mother’s muffled screams from echoing through her mind—the dark shadow of a man entering the room, large and looming, and full of fury.
Like a rag doll, the man grabbed Mommy and threw her to the floor. Panic gripped Laura, tightening her chest, her throat, her jaw. She couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t breathe.
She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Hugging her small knees, she gasped a deep breath and held it. The man picked up the big wooden candleholder.
And then she saw him.
Grandpa Randal? What was he doing? Why was he so angry?
Burning pain from lack of oxygen erupted in Laura’s chest. She took in quick, shallow, terrified breaths.
He lifted the candleholder high above him.
Laura turned her head, burying her face in her knees.
A sharp pleading cry. A resounding thud. Laura’s hands flew to her ears.
Blood splattered, sending droplets of red across the wooden floor and up the wall. Anguish twisted Laura’s heart. A sob caught in her throat. Tears blurred her vision. She burrowed deeper into the closet.
But then he was there. Standing in front of her, bending down. She gasped as she saw his angry face and the blood staining his shirt.
Mommy’s blood? His eyes looked scary, and full of hate and anger. She’d never seen her grandpa look like that before.
He reached for her.
“No!” She pushed her back into the wall, trying to move out of his reach.
He grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the closet. She struggled, pulling back. But then she saw Mommy lying on the floor. Laura froze, staring at the blood covering Mommy’s face and hair. Panic and fear rushed through her, filling her up and bursting forth. “Mommmeeee!”
She reached for her mother, but Grandpa Randal wouldn’t let her go. He picked her up and threw her on the bed.
“No!” she yelled, struggling and fighting against him. “Let me go! Mommy!”
He put a hand over her nose and mouth. She kicked and thrashed, making him grunt and flinch and swear until darkness tunneled her vision.
Then it was over and she remembered no more.
Hot tears splashing on her hands brought her back to the present, but the bloody image of her mother lying on the floor had been burned in her mind. Randal had killed her mother.
She sat at the bottom of the closet, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face as the horrible images faded. She sucked in desperate gulps of air. Fighting the waves of nausea crashing over her, she closed her eyes.
No wonder she’d blocked it all.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered and wondered how she could not have known. How could she have spent all these years waiting and searching for her mother when she saw her die? A sob burst forth and choke
d her. If she had remembered sooner, Randal could have been punished.
A shudder tore through her. She gasped several deep breaths. He still could be.
She heard a noise and looked up, wiping away the tears on her face and saw Martha standing in the doorway. Laura pushed herself to her feet and tried to pull herself together. She heard Drew calling her name. When she looked back at the door, Martha was gone.
Then Drew was standing there, looking at her with a desperate wildness in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, trying to catch his breath.
“She’s dead,” Laura whispered, feeling slightly shell-shocked. She’d known, she supposed. Mary had told her as much, but to actually see it in her mind, to remember that candleholder coming down on her mother’s head, to hear the crack of the wood…
Horror seized hold again and reverberated through her.
“Your mother?” Drew asked, looking slightly confused.
Laura nodded then started to shake. Slow-moving tremors that grew until she didn’t think she could stand anymore. Then Drew was holding her, his strong arms surrounding her and pulling her against the sturdy wall of his chest. She clung to him and cried, sobbing for the mother she’d lost, for the hope that had died, for the future that had been ripped away from her.
Randal, her grandpa, the man she had loved and trusted, had with one blow annihilated her life, and then gone back to his own as if nothing had ever happened. But the worst had happened—to her mother, to her. And she wasn’t about to let him get away with it.
One way or another, that man would pay.
Drew held on to Laura, relief cascading through him just from seeing her standing there, her hair disheveled, her eyes puffy and her cheeks stained.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear.
“It was horrible.” She pulled back and looked at him with anger blazing in her eyes. “Why did he do it?”
“He?”
“Randal. He hit my mother with a wooden candleholder. He killed her. Right here. I saw it.”
Stunned, Drew stared at her, his gaze shifting to the corner of the room. He remembered Delilah lying there, the blood running down her face and pooling beneath her head. “Randal?”
Black Magic Lover Page 14