by J. N. Colon
My father appeared above Etie’s shoulder, his face washing of color. “We’re too late,” he rasped. “She’s not going to make it.”
Lucas was next to him, looking stricken.
Etie’s eyes never left mine. “You don’t know your daughter very well.” His fingers ran over my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. “You’re not going anywhere, Angeline, are you?”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” I coughed, struggling to breathe.
My father gave me a sad, watery smile—a little glimpse of the man from my early childhood memories—before his face hardened to stone. He grabbed Lucas’s shoulder, pulling him toward the battling magic. “Come on. We can’t let any of them get away knowing what Angel is.”
Vonduo spilled past Etie’s lips as he spun a voodoo spell. A familiar rattling joined the chaos in the basement. Etie’s snake tattoo was coming alive.
He shifted, holding me with one arm as he shed his shirt. Despite my weakening state, I couldn’t help but appreciate his ripped, bronze skin. I licked my lips.
His brow arched.
What? Any girl would have done the same, deathbed or not.
A reptilian head emerged above his shoulder, slithering down his chest. A pair of slitted eyes regarded me with familiarity. I guess we were old pals now. The koulèvkay slinked across the ground toward the wicked witch who sucked most of my powers out and nearly my life.
Liseria struggled on the ground, writhing in the spell Henri was holding her in. She didn’t look so perfect or all-powerful anymore. Her head whipped around at the approaching snake, her dark eyes widening. Fear began to surpass the evil.
“No! Get it away from me!” She tried to scramble back, but Henri’s hold wouldn’t release her.
The snake arched and struck out, sinking his fangs into her neck. Her scream ripped through the air, literally blowing other witches back. Etie cursed, holding me as the entire room trembled from the force. Tiny sprinkles of dust fell from the ceiling.
My lids began to fall.
“No!” Etie shook me, forcing my consciousness back to the surface. “Don’t sleep. Just hold on a little longer.” Desperation radiated through his eyes.
If I fell asleep, would I not wake up?
“Okay.” My hands curled into fists until my nails bit into my palms. I wouldn’t leave this world. Not yet.
In the melee, a few of the witches scrambled up the stairs, making a run for it. Blue mohawk guy was one of them, throwing a surreptitious look over his shoulder at Etie before disappearing. Josie, his partner in crime, was already laying at the bottom of the stairs unconscious.
Was she dead? Did I care?
Acid oozed up my throat. I almost died because of her. I had every right to want her punished.
Etie’s koulèvkay, still attached to the she-devil, began to glow a bright scarlet that melted to a vibrant purple. He was like a pulsating firework on the Fourth of July. Liseria had stopped struggling, her skin turning as white as fresh snow. Her eyes lightened to a dull green, the violet ring fading with her life.
The snake retracted his fangs from her neck, and Henri released the magic holding her. There was no reason for it anymore. She was dead.
Seeing her lying there with nothing behind those eyes made my stomach knot. But I didn’t regret her fate. Unlike Josie, there were no conflicting emotions about Liseria’s demise.
The reptile slithered toward me, coiling around my arm. I stiffened.
“It’s okay,” Etie whispered, stroking my cheek. “Don’t be afraid. He’s going to return what’s yours.”
My muscles loosened. No time like the present to get cuddly with a magical voodoo snake. He showed me his fangs as if preparing me for his strike. He was gentle, slowly descending and piercing my left palm.
A sting echoed, and then warmth hemorrhaged through my veins. I gasped as my powers returned. Familiar electric tingles coursed over me, from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair. Etie held me tighter.
The snake released my palm. My entire body pulsated with light for a few moments before settling back to its normal tan complexion. The giant weight on my chest lifted, and I could breathe again.
I wasn’t dying anymore.
“Uh—thanks?” I mumbled to the snake.
The koulèvkay was on the move again, slithering around Etie’s waist. He crawled up his back, sinking into his skin as a tattoo.
If I had never been around magic before, I’d think this was one big, psychedelic hallucination.
“Angeline.” Etie’s voice cracked, and he pulled me against him, burying his face in my neck. “I almost lost you.”
“Not happening.” My fingers twisted through his hair, and I breathed him in. The fighting had quieted now that their coven leader was dead.
She should’ve believed me when I told her Etie was going to kill her.
He pulled back, staring down at me with glittering eyes. And it wasn’t just magic in them. Tiny remnants of tears clung to his thick, sooty lashes, squeezing my heart. “Don’t do that to me again, cher. Never.”
I struggled into a sitting position in his lap, still encircled in his arms. “I’ll try,” I whispered, running my fingers over his stubbly jaw.
His lips brushed my cheek. “I love you, Angeline.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. For a few minutes, I thought I’d lost the chance to ever tell him how I felt.
I swallowed the lump fisting in my throat. “I love you too.” As much as I fought what was happening, too afraid to believe it was real, somewhere along the lines, I’d fallen hard for the Cajun Casanova. My soul wasn’t the only thing he owned anymore. He had my heart too.
Chapter 27
The air was so thick in my living room it was hard to breathe. The voodoo caster and brujo squared off on opposite sides, a storm brewing in the center.
“You can’t unbind Étienne and Evangeline. I won’t allow it.” Henri’s voice boomed from his spot against the doorjamb. His expression was carved from stone, his dark eyes flaring.
My father shot from the couch, jostling my mother. “You won’t allow it? You don’t have the right to make any decisions concerning my daughter.”
This time Etie and Lucas weren’t the magical beings arguing.
“Etie’s my son, and his life is tied to your daughter’s. That gives me the right.” Henri leaned off the wall, his hands curling into tight fists. “Some of those damn witches escaped. They know about her, and they might return. Evangeline and Étienne are both in danger.”
“I can protect my own daughter,” my father snapped. “The captured witches will be sent to Virginia. My coven will question them and find the others.”
No one would tell me where they were keeping the witches. Were they afraid I’d attack them with my crazy conduit powers and suck them dry like they’d tried to do to me? A shiver spilled down my back as I relived the moments my magic was being ripped from my soul.
“You’ve been out of Étienne’s life for years—thankfully.” Abuela’s sharp tone snapped the nightmarish scenes from my mind. She crossed her arms against her chest, delivering Henri a narrowed glare. “You can’t come back to town and think you have any sway or rights with him.”
They’d been at it for the past hour. We returned from Liseria’s coven house in West Monroe this morning. No one had slept an ounce, and my father called a meeting to discuss our options. He wanted me to return to Covina de Validus with Lucas where they could protect me—after he unbound Etie and me. Henri wanted us to remain here. We would be safe together.
Funny how no one asked what we wanted. It was even funnier they thought they had any control over our futures.
Etie’s fingers dragged through my hair again, brushing over my shoulder. Despite my dad’s hard glare, I was curled up with him in the overstuffed chair.
I loved Étienne Benoit. How did this even happen?
A prickling sensation melted across my skin and my gaze lifted, meetin
g Lucas’s. He stood rigidly in the corner, his mouth clamped shut. He didn’t need to voice his opinion. He wanted me unbound from Etie. Lucas thought without the voodoo caster, I’d run right into his arms.
Just because our parents decided we’d be a good match didn’t mean I’d ever love him. I couldn’t even trust him.
I hadn’t told Etie Lucas kissed me yet or about the arranged coupling, but when I did, I was going to get an ear full probably in rapid French. And then, I’d have to keep the bokor from going after the brujo.
“We can’t be unbound.” Etie’s voice was casual and matter-of-fact.
“My coven has a way,” my father said. “It is possible.”
Etie’s mismatched eyes reluctantly shifted away from me, landing on my father. “It’s not possible.”
He scoffed. “You’re young. I know—”
“I’m a pouvior bokor,” Etie said, cutting my father off. “I used a voodoo spell to tie us together. I’ve been doing voodoo since I can remember. Not even Baron Samedi can break it.”
My father shook his head, skeptical. “I’m stronger than you think.”
A humorless smile twitched Etie’s lips. “Not that strong.” His expression quickly sobered, and a dark shadow crossed his eyes. “If you try, it’ll only be a painful, failed attempt. And if you hurt Angeline, I’ll do the same to you.”
“Is that a threat?” My father stepped forward, his wide shoulders lifting.
My mom jumped from the couch, putting her hand on his chest. “Let’s all calm down. Etie’s only trying to protect Angel.”
My father’s brows shot up his forehead. “From me?”
She winced. “In his own way.”
I rubbed my temples. “You guys need to stop arguing about this. There are some other things we should be talking about—like how my own father faked his death, and my family kept it from Marisol and me for ten years.” I glanced around, my lips pursing. “Where is Marisol?”
My mother and grandmother traded glances.
I sat up straighter. “Has anyone even talked to her since we got back? Has anyone made sure she was okay?” I wasn’t the only one whose life was in shambles after the web of lies started unraveling.
Abuela fidgeted with the collection of bracelets on her wrist. “We’ve been a little preoccupied.”
I scrambled to my feet. “Does anyone even care about her or are you all too worried about my damn powers?”
Etie stood, his eyes taking on an otherworldly glow. “I don’t think she’s here, cher.”
A sick feeling twisted my gut. I ran toward the door, Etie on my heels. Hopefully Marisol was with Jesse and not alone getting into trouble.
It only took a minute to reach Ms. Delphine’s. Please let her be there.
A tight fist knotted in my chest. If anything happened to her…
The front door was unlocked, and I stormed in without knocking. Etie grabbed my arm and steered me in the direction of the living room.
“You feel something?” I asked.
He gave a quick nod.
The pale yellow walls I’d seen during my astral projection appeared. Ms. Delphine was sitting on the couch, staring into the distance. Just staring. She wasn’t even blinking.
Etie cursed. “She’s in a voodoo trance.”
Acid crawled up my throat. “Oh god. What is going on?”
“I’m going to find out.” He dropped my arm. “Stay here.”
Like that was happening.
I shot after him. He didn’t need to turn around to show me his irritated expression. I could feel it. We took the stairs two at a time. At the end of the hall, Etie wrenched open a door leading to the third level. The narrow stairs creaked and popped.
The heavy scent of herbs and something acrid descended over us as we emerged into a large attic. We darted through a maze of boxes until the prize in the center appeared.
My blood turned to ice, freezing my veins. I wanted to believe it was witchcraft. But those weren’t witchcraft symbols drawn on the floor.
They were voodoo.
Marisol sat in a ritual circle, Jesse across from her. Her eyes were glazed over as Vondou tumbled from her lips.
“What are they doing?” How in the hell did Marisol get her hands on a voodoo spell? And why would she bring Jesse into this mess?
“They’re performing a summoning ritual,” Etie said, lines creasing his brow.
Slowly, Jesse’s head swiveled toward us, an eerie smile melting across his face. “You’re too late.”
A sledgehammer rammed into my chest, knocking me back and stealing the air from my lungs.
My family hadn’t been the only one duping me. A new player had joined the game these last few weeks. And once again, it all made perfect, terrifying sense.
Ms. Delphine’s illness was Jesse’s doing. He probably wasn’t related to her at all. He’d only used her to get closer to Marisol.
My gaze shifted to my sister as she continued the voodoo ritual in a trance. What did he want from her?
“Mwen rele soti. Mwen rele soti.”
Etie’s eyes flared. “No!” He ran toward the circle, obliterating whatever magical barrier had been around them.
But Jesse was right. It was too late.
Marisol’s lips were already forming the words—the name—that would doom us. “Baron Samedi.”
My heart shattered into a million pieces. She’d done the only thing Etie’s protection spell was useless against. Marisol was safe as long as she didn’t call him herself. He couldn’t get to her. Until now.
She’d summoned the dark deity.
The voodoo king was coming, and he’d take her soul in place of mine.
Continue Angel and Etie’s journey in book three, Wicked Unveiled
Darkness has been hiding in plain sight... Can Angel and Etie trust anyone?
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Wicked Unveiled
Hidden Conduit Series Book Three
SNEAK PEEK
**This is the unedited version. Please excuse any grammar mistakes.**
Chapter One
Blood pounded in my ears, slamming against my skull. My sister sat in the center of a voodoo ritual circle, the worst name she could have ever uttered during a summoning spell had just spilled from her lips.
This was a dream. A nightmare. No way in hell Marisol’s boyfriend was a voodoo caster who’d secretly been hexing her.
I pinched myself. The horrific scene around me didn’t disappear.
My lids squeezed shut, and I willed Ms. Delphine’s attic to vanish. I wasn’t really there. I was in my bed, and soon Etie would wake me from this fitful sleep. My worst fear wasn’t coming true. It was my demented imagination.
I opened my eyes only to be faced with the same frightening event. Jesse had put a trance on Marisol and tricked her into summoning Baron Samedi.
Rum and sickly sweet cigar smoke spilled through the air, choking me. A cold sweat trickled down my spine, and not a drop of moisture remained in my mouth.
The voodoo king was coming.
“W-What’s going on?” The haze began to melt from Marisol’s brown eyes.
“Don’t you remember what you did, Mar?” A reptilian smile slowly split Jesse’s lips.
“I don’t…” Her gaze drifted to the voodoo symbols drawn on the wooden floor and then up to me. “Angel?”
My heart shattered into a million pieces. “Mar, I’m sorry.” I stepped forward, but an iron grip fastened around my bicep.
“No, cher.” Etie’s gaze was fixed on the spot between Jesse and my sister. He pulled us both out of the circle. “It’s too late.”
His form turned watery through my unshed tears. I thought the worst was behind me. Mere hours ago, I’d laid in Liseria’s basement after the shop owner of Madam Monnie
r’s and her evil sidekick with a blue mohawk abducted me. My powers had been completely drained, and my life was quickly fading.
But my alimèt wouldn’t let me down.
Etie had burst into the coven house like a wild force of nature with Henri, Lucas, and my father in tow. He saved my sorry butt again and, with the help of the mystical snake tattoo on his back, restored my powers.
What good were my coveted powers if I couldn’t even save my sister from the mess I created? The voodoo king couldn’t have me so he was going to use Marisol any way he could until I surrendered.
Thundering footsteps echoed on the stairs. Familiar figures appeared, a mixture of Wiccan and voodoo power swarming the attic. Henri took one look at the ritual circle and cursed. He knew what—or rather who—was coming.
“What’s going on?” My father’s baritone voice boomed against the walls so forcefully the hanging light fixture in the center swung through the air.
Before anyone could answer, a deep laugh sliced through the room. Saccharine cigar smoke snaked around the ritual circle. Goosebumps popped along my flesh.
The dark deity materialized next to my sister.
She gasped and scrambled back.
Baron Samedi lifted his hand. “Baryè.” The barrier Etie had dissolved reformed, separating Jesse, Marisol, and the voodoo king from us.
I swallowed hard. Etie wouldn’t be able to break it so easily again.
The white skull paint on the baron’s dark face was exceptionally garish in the dim, yellow light. “I didn’t know I was invited to a party.” The heavy Cajun accent dripped effortlessly from his lips, hypnotic and enchanting even. “I would have cleaned up.” He smoothed his long fingers over the silk lapel of his flashy black suit adorned with silver embellishments.
A long string of Spanish—mostly curse words—spewed from Abuela.
