The Gathering

by Fiore, L. A.

  “But I’m human.”

  “You are now, but you are more than human.” She was very easy to read. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

  “I’m not. Esther’s comments about being older than the Ancestors kind of conditioned me to accept that I had at one point been a...”

  She couldn’t say the word, so I did for her. “Goddess.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hades said you were the one to put it all into play and that you have to finish it. What is done cannot be undone.”

  “Why can’t I remember?” She was growing frustrated with herself.

  “That is part of your plan too. It will come when it’s time.”

  “I hope so.” She studied me. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “He can’t see me.”

  “What?”

  “He turned me immortal, but he can’t see me.”

  “Did he have any idea why?”

  “No, but he was frustrated. He has the artifact. Maybe he will find some answers.”

  She touched my cheek. Compassion stared back. “You are good down to your bones, Bain. Whatever happened to you, you know that, right?”

  I was here for a reason, drawn to this woman for a reason, had gone from mortal to immortal for this woman. If I could find out what I didn’t know then perhaps somewhere buried in my past was a way to stop what she was setting into motion, at least the part where she gave herself for others. I didn’t tell her that because, like me, she would give her life for mine. That fucking wasn’t going to happen.

  “I do. In the meantime…” I swiped my thumb over her nipple. Her eyes went cloudy with lust. I traced her lower lip with my tongue before I sank my teeth into it. She moaned; I swallowed the moan when I kissed her. She lifted her arms; I pulled her tee over her head. She wore only her black lace panties; her pale skin was flawless and silky smooth; her dark hair falling over one shoulder. It wasn’t just her outer beauty that drew me like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t a wonder I had found her again. I’d always find her; she was the very air I breathed.

  She had something on her mind when she started chewing on her lower lip. “I’d like to…” her gaze was both unsure and hot as hell. She didn’t finish the sentence, not with words. She climbed from bed and worked the button on my jeans. All my blood went south. Her fingers were deliberate, yet unsure, as she pulled the zipper down and dragged the denim over my legs. The sight of Ivy Blackwood in black lace kneeling in front of me, all that glossy dark hair falling over her shoulders and back. I was so fucking hard it hurt. She looked at me through her lashes; her tongue darted out to moisten her lips before those lips wrapped around my cock. A roar rumbled up my throat; my hands fisted as she innocently explored me with her tongue, teeth and lips. Her small hand cupped me; she squeezed as she sucked, trailing her tongue along the underside of my dick. I was going to come, never in my life had I come with so little prompting. I wanted inside her when I did. A startled gasp escaped her lips when I yanked her up my body, pressed her against the wall, tore that scrap of lace from her body, and slammed into her. I moved my hips and watched the pleasure playing over her face. She was mine. She had always been mine. I had her now. I wasn’t letting her go.

  29

  Ivy

  I wasn’t very focused at work the following day. My thoughts kept returning to Bain. I loved him; love wasn’t a strong enough word. He tried not to show it, but there was a lot going on under the surface with the revelation from Hades. What secrets were buried in Bain’s past?

  Dahlia joined me at the counter. Since learning about the supernatural, she was a little less bubbly, though I suspected Josiah was right; it wasn’t knowledge about the supernatural but more what was coming.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I was about to ask that of you. You look troubled.”

  “Not troubled, just distracted.” I turned to face her. “How are you with learning…?”

  She glanced around the shop then lowered her voice. “At first, it was like Christmas morning. To know it’s real, all of it, but…” She worked her lower lip. “Learning the boogieman is real too, that’s downright terrifying.”

  I wanted to assure her that all would be well, but the phone pulled her away. She returned minutes later.

  “That was Josiah. He wanted to remind you to stop by the station after work to talk to the historian.” She worked her lip again before she asked, “What historian?”

  I glanced at the clock. Lunch time. “This is a discussion best had with cake.”

  The cool blast from the air conditioner of the police station felt good. Josiah was waiting for me. “Ivy. How was work?”

  “We got a shipment today, so we played with the new inventory. I also shared with Dahlia about the case. I hope that was okay.”

  “Yeah. The more she knows the better.” He gestured for me to precede him. “We’re in my office.”

  There was an old man in his office, dressed in a tweed suit. He stood as soon as we entered.

  “This is Eugene Stiles, the historian looking into the LeBlanc place. Eugene, this is Ivy Blackwood.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said as he offered his hand.

  “And you.”

  We settled around the table, and Eugene got right into it.

  “I wasn’t able to find out much on the LeBlancs during the time period in question. The country was struggling through the Civil War; records were lost to fires and to pillaging. I can confirm the owners during the war were Tobias and Elizabeth LeBlanc. They had two children, Eleanor and Ernest. Ernest died; Eleanor disappeared. There was never a trace of her found.” He started flipping through his file. “I did find a picture of them. He pushed it across the table. It was grainy, taken outside of the house now haunted by ugly. A piece of the puzzle fell into place; my hand shook when I lifted the picture to study the son, dressed in brown tweed pants, a white shirt, with his blond hair hanging to his shoulders.

  “Ivy?” Josiah read my body language perfectly.

  My gaze lifted to his. “We have our fly on the wall.” I turned to Eugene. “Thank you.”

  Josiah stood too and walked to the door. “Thank you, Eugene.” He waited until we were alone before he said, “You recognized one of them.”

  “Yes. We have to go.” I was already up and out of his office.

  “Where are we going?” Josiah asked when we stepped outside.

  “Esther’s.”

  “Why?”

  I met his stare. “Because the one we need to talk to is a ghost, and he’s been hiding from me.”

  “A ghost?”

  “He was at Misty Vale. He helped me get out. I knew him as Tristan, but he’s Ernest LeBlanc.”

  “Holy shit. You aren’t kidding about a fly on the wall.”

  Esther was waiting when we arrived. “I need to talk to the ghosts.”

  “I know. Follow me.”

  On the other side of her house, along the banks of the bayou, was a large circle done in salt. Five white candles were placed within the circle and in the center was a small fire pit.

  “You need to sit inside the circle, facing north,” Esther said, handing me a little jar. “This is your offering.”

  “What is it? It looks like alcohol,” Josiah asked.

  “It is. French brandy, angelica seeds, black root tobacco, orange blossoms, cypress tree root, and anise.” She glanced up at the twilight sky. It should be at night, but it’s a waxing moon, so it might work, particularly with your connection to the earth.”

  “Connection?” Josiah asked then said, “Never mind.”

  “Conjure the fire—” Esther started, but Josiah interrupted.

  “Conjure the fire?” He stepped back and waved us to continue. He was having a hard time with this. I didn’t blame him.

  “Toss those into it. It will cleanse the space,” she said, pointing to the bowl of dried leaves. She glanced at Josiah before he could ask. “Sage, mugwort, and dandelion root.” She
looked back at me. “Speak the words…” She gestured to the parchment next to the bowl. “Pour the contents of the dram jar into the fire. The one you seek will appear in the flame.”

  “Okay. I got it.”

  “When you’re done, blow out the candles; you need to close the portal you opened into the spirit world.”

  “I will.” I was nervous. I’d never done a spell before, but we needed to know what Tristan did. I moved into the circle, facing north. I hadn’t tried to summon fire since Misty Vale, but it came so easily now. I didn’t remember, but a part of me did. I wasn’t surprised when Bain appeared, some of his crew with him. Jareth and Aine were there too. I didn’t hear their conversation because my focus was on the fire. I added the leaves then recited the words.

  Spirits of the night

  I speak to thee

  Find the one I seek

  And send him to me

  With this offering I do make

  Now see to this task with all haste

  I poured the contents of the jar into the fire. I didn’t ask Esther how long it would take for Tristan to appear, and on the cusp of that thought, they appeared. Not in the fire, but all around the circle. Hundreds of ghosts, so many emotions: fear, anger, confusion…a scream burned up my throat. I swallowed it, but it cost me. Tears sprung to my eyes. One woman stood out, something about her was familiar. I tried to focus on just her, but it was hard. I wondered who she was but was pulled from that when another woman stepped forward and with her was a teenage boy and a man, his hands on each of their shoulders.

  “Please tell our mom we’re okay.” She glanced up at the man. “That we found Dad.”

  A lump formed. “You’re Kathy McKinnon, aren’t you?”

  “How did you know?”

  “We share a birthday.” My throat grew tight seeing their confusion and fear, but I managed, “What happened to you?”

  “A girl urged us to go to that place, dared us to get a picture.” The boy looked down but not before I saw pain flash over his face. “She knew what to say to get Lee to go. She wanted us there. We died there.”

  Compassion and pain swept through me. They really were the ones who started the game. “You weren’t the only ones.”

  “It grows stronger,” Kathy warned. “The woman in white is not what she seems?”

  “Woman in white?”

  “The ghost, but it isn’t just spirits that roam that house. One came and took something, a woman, older than you, dark hair. She came and took something from the house.”

  “Do you know what she took?”

  “A parcel from the boy’s room.”

  “Ernest?”

  “Yes.” She glanced behind me. I turned. Tristan appeared in the flames.

  “Thank you, Kathy.” I looked around at the others. “Why are there so many?”

  “They’re waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “You.”

  “I don’t understand.” And I didn’t. Why were the ghosts of New Orleans waiting for me?

  Her head tilted as she studied me. “You don’t remember, but you will.”

  They faded, all of them just vanished. Only Tristan remained.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “You had your reasons for not telling me, but I need to know what you do. Should I call you Ernest or Tristan?”

  “Tristan. I’ve spent a long time trying to forget Ernest.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “My parents killed everyone who worked for them, but it was my sister who pushed them into doing it. She claimed they had hurt her, that they were getting back at my parents for their treatment of them.”

  “Eleanor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me about her?”

  “She was always different.”

  Those words struck a chord.

  “She heard and saw things no one else could. People feared her because she was different.” My stomach twisted hearing she and I shared a similar background.

  “After we moved into that house, she grew dark. I don’t know; she didn’t seem like my sister anymore.”

  “You said she incited your parents? How so?”

  “My parents were evil, just by the way they treated their…they were evil. But she worked on that evil, fostered it, put ideas in their heads. It was like she was the match, and they were the keg.” Tears welled in his eyes. “They killed them just to kill them. They enjoyed it.” He pulled a hand through his shaggy hair. “I didn’t believe they were real, thought I was confusing reality with my nightmares, but I saw those creatures from Misty Vale before. They turned people into them, and the ones who didn’t turn became feral, killing each other like rapid animals. I’d never seen anything like it.”

  My blood turned to ice in my veins. “The ones like Dr. Ellis.”

  “Yes.” He looked down as tension rolled over him. He glanced up. “You were there.”

  I went numb. “I was?”

  “You were the one to stop it.”

  “How did I do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “My parents killed me then themselves.”

  My heart ached for him. “I’m sorry. What happened to your sister?”

  “She disappeared.”

  “Why didn’t you cross over?”

  “She asked me not to, said I needed to tell you when you were ready.”

  “I don’t understand. Who is she?”

  “Your mother.”

  It was a shock, and yet, deep down, it clicked, another piece of the puzzle. “My mother?”

  “You don’t remember, but you will.”

  I wanted more, almost demanded he share, but he had been through enough, lingering so long instead of crossing over. He deserved peace. “Be happy, Tristan.” I thought about the mark in his room, the thing that was removed. “What did you hide in your room?”

  “The last piece of the puzzle. You’ll find it when you need it. A ghost from your past is safeguarding it.”

  He disappeared before I could ask him who, his spirit finally at rest. It was over for him, but it was just starting for the rest of us. I blew out the candles and stepped from the circle.

  “Did you learn what you needed?” Esther asked.

  “You didn’t hear any of that?”

  “No.”

  “Tristan was Ernest LeBlanc.” I felt the ripple that went through those gathered, but I forged on. “Evil almost escaped, but I stopped it.” I raised my hand before they could ask questions I couldn’t answer. “I don’t know how I did it, but my mother was helping.”

  “Your mother?” Josiah asked.

  “Yes, and I suspect whoever she is, she isn’t human.” Esther’s comment about me being born of someone primordial, it was looking like she was right about that. But who? What scared me were the similarities I shared with Eleanor. Was it possible that I could turn, incite the madness that would lead to the deaths of all those I loved? Had she been like me and darkness claimed her? That terrified me. I was also furious that Dr. Ellis really was unleashing his creatures on the world. He would pay, as would the one he served.

  Josiah pulled me from my dark thoughts when he shared, “You were right about Dr. Nelson. He was a genetic scientist focused on cell regeneration, but he lived back in the late 1700s.”

  “Cell regeneration that early? I remember the 1700s. Magic was definitely involved,” Brock shared.

  “When patients at the hospital where he worked started showing up dead, they took him in for questioning. He denied knowledge, was so emphatic that he grew furious and that was when his personality switched so profoundly they brought in experts. Turns out, he had a split personality; it was the other personality conducting the experiments. It was a huge case; they still reference it today in medical journals: ‘The Two Faces of Dr. Theodore Nelson’. I’ll give you one guess what his alter ego was named.”

  “Dr. Gary Elli
s,” Ivy said then added, “Tristan saw Ellis’ creatures, and the humans who didn’t turn attacked each other like feral animals.”

  “Shit, it really is all linked,” Josiah said on an exhale.

  “Ellis creates these creatures that are soulless, but he and Bart were shifters,” Brock said then added, “Makes sense, someone has to control the horde.”

  “I saw Kathy McKinnon and her brother. They’re with their father. She wanted her mom to know. They were goaded into going to the plantation, just like Henry, just like that woman who tried to incite the blood bath on Bourbon Street. Tristan’s sister, LeBlanc’s daughter, she incited her parents to do the evil they already had a penchant for. She also said someone, not a spirit, took something from the house.”

  “Whatever was in Ernest’s room,” Josiah guessed.

  “Yes, he said a ghost from my past is safeguarding it until I need it.”

  “What does that mean?” Brock asked.

  “He said I would remember when it was time.” I looked around at the faces, settling on Bain’s. My heart ached. We’d been here before. History was repeating itself. I had the overwhelming sensation that I was counting on it to.

  30

  Bain

  Tell me what’s troubling you?” I asked Ivy in my room later that night. She stood on the balcony, staring up at the moon.

  “I’ve always loved the moon.” She glanced back at me, a ghost of a smile on her face. “Did you know that?”

  “No.”

  “Always felt the pull of it, was always drawn to it. It was because of you. I know that now.”

  “Ivy?”

  I saw her shoulders stiffened. “What if I’m like Eleanor, believed to be different, just like me, believed to be crazy, just like me.” Her eyes lifted to me. “What if I’m like her?”

  What she was asking was what if she could turn to evil? “You’re not her, Ivy.”

  Tears leaked from her eyes. I crossed the room and wiped them from her cheek. “You wondering if you are like her makes you not like her.” She didn’t believe me. I cupped her face, forced her gaze on me. “I know you, inside and out. You are good down to your bones.”

  Tears welled, and I kissed them away.

  “So what is the deal with Ivy?” Brock asked the following morning. We were on patrol. Ivy was off with Aine.