“Change.” Natasha’s voice was firm. “Sit still and give me a minute.” The priestess closed her eyes and breathed deeply, swaying from side to side. The energy in the room shifted as she made contact with her Spirit Guides.
Odette held her breath, the hairs on her arms standing on end as the vibration in the air increased. She shivered, and the hollow sensation consumed the rest of her body. She knew the answer as confidently as if it had been ingrained in her soul since birth.
James was the one. The man she was fated to fall in love with and in whose arms she was doomed to die.
Natasha opened her eyes and smiled sadly.
“I knew it.” Odette clenched her trembling hands into fists. “I knew it before I came here. I’ve known since the moment he knocked on my door, but I was hoping…”
“You hoped I’d tell you otherwise.”
Her shoulders slumped as the weight of the realization pressed down on her. “And now, there’s no hope. I’m going to die a horrific death, and I’m taking him with me. I wonder what it will be this time? A knife to the chest? A slit throat? I don’t think I’ve been fully beheaded yet. I suppose I have that to look forward to.”
“You hush your mouth.” Natasha rose to her feet and shuffled around the table. “There’s always hope.” She tapped the death tarot. “It’s inverted, which means you’re resistant to the change that needs to happen.”
“Of course I’m resistant to being murdered.”
“My guides tell me your death isn’t the change this means. And James… I’ve felt an unrest in the air ever since I talked to him. What I learned in his reading makes sense now.”
“How so?”
“I kept hearing that he’s stuck in a cycle that has to be broken. I thought it had something to do with his past, and it does. Not his past in this lifetime though. He’s stuck in the same cycle as you, and the two of you have to break it together.”
Odette leaned her elbows on the table and dropped her head in her hands. “We haven’t been able to break the cycle in how many lifetimes? Why would we be able to stop it now?”
Natasha shuffled to a counter against the wall and lit a white candle in honor of her guides. “Because you’re meant to.”
“How do you know?” She leaned back in her chair, dragging her hands down her face. “Did a Spirit tell you that?”
“Why did you move here?”
She shrugged. “It’s my home. I missed it.”
“You moved away when you were twelve years old. Why come back sixteen years later? Did you really miss it? Or did the Baron call you home?”
She sank in her chair. “You know the Baron called me. His distillery was about to go bankrupt, and I had to turn it around. It was part of the deal.”
“That was your momma’s deal.”
“And I’m honoring it.” She sat up straight. “I owe Baron Samedi my life.”
“Do you think he would have called you back here if it was gonna cut that life short? He gave you a gift, and he’s not gonna see it wasted. You’re here for a reason, and that reason is to break this cycle. You’re a powerful vodouisant in this life, and James is a werewolf. I think the stars have finally aligned for you, and you can end it.”
“I’m not powerful anymore.”
“You could be. We need to do another past life regression to see if we can figure out why you’re holding back. You’ll need to use all the power you have to stop this cycle. We can focus on the house this time. See if—”
“No.” Odette shot to her feet. She didn’t need to delve into any more past lives to know why her own powers terrified her. That incident occurred in this lifetime, and no one could ever know what really happened. Not even her Mambo. “The house is… I think I was drawn to it because of the ghost there. He knows me, and he seems to think I should remember him. I probably talked to him when I was a kid. Before I learned to block them out, I saw ghosts everywhere I went. I probably walked by that house with my mom a lot and saw him then. I’m sure that’s all it is.”
Natasha arched an eyebrow. “You don’t think it’s possible you lived in that house in a past life?”
“If I did live there…if I knew the ghost when he was alive…it was the early eighteen hundreds, and I do not want to relive that. No more regressions.”
Natasha eyed her skeptically. She needed to pull herself together before the Mambo figured out that she already knew the reason she held her powers back. Straightening her spine, she held her chin high. “I’ll figure something out. If the Baron called me here to meet James and end this cycle, then that’s what I’ll do…once I figure out how to tell James.”
“I suggest you do some digging into your ghost. I have a feeling he’s gonna play a role whether you want him to or not.”
“I’m one step ahead of you. He told me his name, and I have one of my interns researching his connection to the house. She’ll call me as soon as she has some information.”
Natasha nodded. “You ain’t alone in this, you know? Whatever the Baron tells you, whatever you have to do, I’m here. The whole House will help you.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t get the entire House involved, though. It may have been her fate to die a gruesome death life after life, but she wouldn’t pull anyone else down with her. “What if I made an offering to Erzulie Dantor? She can keep me from falling in love, right? That’s what she does. Protects women scorned by their lovers.”
Natasha laughed. “You’re welcome to try, but you haven’t been scorned, and James seems like a good man. I don’t think she can help you.”
“It’s worth a try. If I don’t fall in love, I won’t be vulnerable.”
The Mambo shook her head. “I’m going home. Call me if you need me.”
Odette strode into the altar room with new purpose. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall in love with James. It was as simple as that. She bought a blood-red rose from the gift shop and laid it on Erzulie Dantor’s altar. Clasping her hands over her heart, she closed her eyes and offered her prayer to the loa. “Please, Erzulie Dantor, I’m begging you. Guard my heart. Keep me strong. This man will be the death of me if I fall in love.”
Chapter Seven
“Ms. Allemand?” The intern hesitated in the doorway, clutching a folder to her chest. Her too-long bangs fell across her eyes, and she nervously jerked her head, brushing the blonde locks aside. “I have the information you asked me to find.”
Odette held up a finger and finished typing the last sentence of her e-mail with her other hand. It’s about time. She’d given the job to Kathryn, her most promising intern, because she thought she’d be the fastest. But the research had taken her two days to complete.
Peppering the ghost with questions hadn’t helped either. The more she’d talked to Nicolas, the more confused he’d become, until he’d stopped communicating altogether. Sadly, he didn’t know he was dead until she’d told him.
Kathryn shrank into the hallway and picked at her fingernails. Odette would have to give the girl a lesson in projecting confidence. Too many sharks lurked in the waters of life, waiting to prey on the weak.
“What do you have for me?” She closed her computer and folded her hands on her desk, giving the intern her full attention, and ignoring the way her heart rate kicked up in anticipation.
Kathryn shuffled through the doorway, sweeping her gaze across the lavender walls before focusing on the mini altar next to Odette’s desk. The skulls she used were made of plaster, but word on the company’s rumor mill said they belonged to human sacrifice victims. She’d grown accustomed to people fearing her, so she let them believe the rumors.
The intern shivered. “Um…I’m sorry it took so long.”
This lack of self-confidence would never do. She’d be doing the girl a disservice if she didn’t correct her behavior. “Did I ask for an apology?”
“No, ma’am.” Kathryn tightened her grip on the folder, creasing the edge.
“Do I look the slightest bit upset w
ith you?”
She hesitated. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize unless there’s a need for it. It makes you seem weak. There are people in this world who prey on weakness. Never allow yourself to be taken advantage of.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. I mean…” Rather than having her confidence lifted, the poor girl was crumbling.
Odette softened her tone. “Sit down and tell me what you found.”
Kathryn nodded and sank into a deep-purple velvet chair across from the desk. “The records are so old they haven’t digitized them yet. I had to search through property records and newspapers on microfiche.”
“And what did you discover?”
“I found one Nicolas associated with the address you gave me. Nicolas Dubois was a French immigrant and the original owner of the property. He built the house that’s there now in 1820.”
That partially explained why the ghost was attached to the house, but it didn’t account for why the man expected Odette to remember him nor why he didn’t cross over when he died. Odette scribbled the name onto a Post-it Note. “Was there any more information on Mr. Dubois?”
Kathryn fought a smile. “Oh, yeah. He was murdered in that house. In his own bedroom.”
Odette straightened her spine. Here was the reason his ghost lingered. “Details?”
Opening the folder, Kathryn pulled out a sheet of paper and passed it to Odette. “I found this in the newspaper. His brother, Antoine, had come to visit him one night, and he found him in his bed, decapitated and stabbed in the heart.”
Odette cringed. No wonder the poor ghost was stuck. A murder like that would cause anyone to have trouble crossing over. She glanced at the newspaper clipping, but she couldn’t bring herself to read the words. “Do they know who did it?”
“Antoine also found Nicolas’s house servant, Serafine, in the room. She was hysterical and covered in blood. She came after Antoine with the knife, so he pulled out his own blade and slit her throat.”
“I see.” A sickening feeling pooled in her stomach. Did the ghost remember any of this? She’d attempted to get more information from him over the past two days, but the poor man had been too confused to answer. Now she understood why. “Thank you for the information, Kathryn. That will be all.”
Kathryn scooted to the edge of the chair. “There’s more, if you’re interested.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“It’s speculation, passed down by word of mouth, but when the librarian saw whom I was researching, she said there’s another story to go along with the newspaper. Rumor has it that Mr. Dubois had taken Serafine as his mistress. She fell in love with him, and when she realized he would have to marry someone else, she murdered him. If she couldn’t have him, no one could.”
“She loved him.” A chill crept through her veins. Was it possible that Nicolas expected her to remember him because she was Serafine? No, it wasn’t. In her past lives, Odette had always been the one to die first. She died in her lover’s arms, at the hands…or claws…of a monster, not a man. And James was to be her lover in this life. A living, breathing man, not a ghost.
Warmth spiraled up her spine at the thought of him. James wouldn’t be alive and tempting her if his ghost were haunting her house. Maybe Odette had been another servant for Nicolas. Or perhaps the other woman he’d intended to marry. Who knew?
Armed with the new information, hopefully she could help the ghost to cross over and be done with him. Then, she could focus on the other, much bigger problem.
“Love makes you do crazy things.” Kathryn’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
“Is there anything else?”
The intern dropped her gaze for a moment and bit her bottom lip. “I have a question.” She briefly looked into Odette’s eyes before shifting her gaze to the small purple and black altar. “People say you can talk to ghosts. Is that why you had me research this guy? Did you see his ghost? Is this your house?”
Odette rose and strode around her desk, standing in front of the intern.
Kathryn scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
Motioning toward the door, Odette paced toward it and gripped the knob. “I appreciate your curiosity, and you’re correct, it’s none of your business. Thank you for the information. That will be all.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kathryn scurried out the door, and Odette closed it behind her.
She turned to her altar and stared at the vévé embroidered on the purple flag. Nicolas’s mistress had murdered him. She’d been brought to justice…if one could call death justice…so that wasn’t the reason his ghost lingered. If he’d been sleeping when she stabbed him, he might not know who killed him.
Maybe that was all he needed—to know the truth about his death—to be able to pass on. She ran her fingers across the soft, purple cloth representing her met tet. “Will you take him once he knows the truth?”
Grabbing her purse from her desk drawer, she strode from her office to the parking garage. Excitement tingled in her limbs as she pressed the button on her key fob, and the car chirped. She could finally help the distressed ghost find peace.
James parked on the curb and killed the engine, kneading the steering wheel as he stared at the half-painted mansion. The light-blue Odette had chosen for the exterior fit the Creole style as if it had been blue all along. After spending a few days working inside, he was more than impressed with the structure.
With the crew running ahead of schedule, they’d be finished with the job in two more weeks. James wouldn’t be finished with Odette, though. Since he’d met her, his dreams had changed, the sultry vodouisant flitting in and out in place of the nameless woman who’d occupied his mind for too long.
He couldn’t bring himself to so much as flirt with another woman—he’d tried…several times—but now it was the image of Odette flashing in his mind that stopped him. He had to see her again.
Raking a hand through his hair, he let out his breath in a huff. Leaving his toolbelt in her kitchen was a thinly-veiled excuse to return to her house this evening—he wouldn’t need it until morning—but it was all he had.
His wolf had been set on him finding the mystery woman from his dreams, but now the beast didn’t know what he wanted. His friends who’d found their fate-bounds made it sound so easy. From the moment they’d met their future mates, they’d…known…even if they’d refused to see it at first.
James didn’t know. He had too much human blood running through his veins, and his wolf was confused as hell because of it. The beast realized he couldn’t claim both women, but that’s exactly what it seemed like he was trying to do.
Maybe everything James felt for Odette had come from his human side, and his half-blood nature was what confounded his wolf. “Damn it.” The only way to solve this mystery was to spend some time with the woman. He slid from the truck and slammed the door.
The scent of the bougainvillea blooming in the flower beds reminded him of the ones his mom had planted at their own house when he was a kid—that two-year stretch when she’d actually stuck around—and the sweet perfume added to the anxiety churning in his core. He climbed the porch steps and knocked, and a curvy silhouette appeared in the window.
Odette opened the door, and his wolf sprang to attention. She wore a black T-shirt and yoga pants that hugged her curves, flaring slightly at the bottom. She was barefoot, and her purple-painted toenails caused his stomach to tighten, heat pooling in his groin as if he’d gotten a glimpse of way more than her toes. He cleared his throat and forced his gaze to her eyes. “Hi.”
She tilted her head. “James. I wasn’t expecting you. Is there a problem?” Her own gaze swept the length of him, the corners of her lips tugging upward briefly before she flattened them.
“I think I left my toolbelt inside. Do you mind if I come in and look for it?”
“It’s in the kitchen. I can get it for you.” She regarded him, narrowing her eyes. Da
mn it, she saw right through his sad attempt at an excuse to see her, and now she’d probably leave him on the porch and get the belt herself. He should have hidden it.
Opening the door wider, she stepped to the side. “Would you like to come in?” She sounded liked she wasn’t sure she should have asked, but he wouldn’t waste the opportunity.
“I’d love to.” He strode through the door before she could change her mind.
Following her into the kitchen, he made himself take in the surroundings…looking at anything but her tempting curves as her hips swayed. “The job’s coming along nicely. At this rate, we’ll finish ahead of schedule.”
She stopped at the kitchen counter and turned to face him. “That’s good to know. Do you want something to drink?”
Holy hell, she’d offered him a drink. That meant she was interested. Did he want her to be interested? His wolf sure seemed to. Say something, dumbass. He grabbed his toolbelt and set it on the edge of the counter. “Yeah.” Yeah? That’s all you’ve got, Casanova?
She held his gaze, the moment stretching into what should have become awkwardness, but it didn’t. Looking into her dark-brown eyes, he almost felt as if he were glimpsing her soul. His wolf was restless, a feeling stirring in his own soul that he’d never felt before, and he couldn’t blame the primal sensation on his human side.
She didn’t move as he took a step toward her; she merely inclined her chin, daring him to come closer. A strange energy charged between them, as if the poles of their soul magnets lined up perfectly, drawing them together.
Her gaze cut to the right, and she furrowed her brow. “Please, not now, Nicolas.”
James turned his head in the direction she looked, but he saw nothing. “Your ghost?”
“I’ve been trying to talk to him all evening, and now he decides to make an appearance. He hasn’t bothered you, has he?” She glided to the opposite side of the counter.
With the safety of the stationary object between them, the moment they’d shared…or almost shared…dissolved. “No, but I think he follows me. I feel like I’m being watched the whole time I’m here, but I’m sure it’s my imagination.”
A Deal with Death Page 7