Julian came alongside her and swung the duffel bag over his shoulder.
“In a short while we’ll leave this place joined as one, and then we will begin our new life together.”
Jazzmyn looked over at him. “You want to spend the rest of your life with a woman who despises you? Why?”
He placed his powerful hand over the back of her neck. “Ah, but there is a part of you that wants me too, Jazzmyn. That you cannot deny. All the emotions you have for me are the same as Odette’s. She hated me for raping her, but at the same time she was attracted to me.” He gently squeezed her neck and urged her forward toward the cemetery gates.
“But how could she be attracted to you after what you did to her?” Jazzmyn challenged when they stood before the gates.
Julian let her go when he spied the chain that held the gates closed. “I have often asked myself that same question. Odette was kept cloistered all her life. Educated by the Ursuline Convent nuns and only presented to society at well-chaperoned balls, she knew nothing about men.” He gripped the chain with both hands. “That night of the rape, when I went to her home, it was because she invited me. She arranged for Eve to be away and for us to be alone.” He began pulling at the chain with his bare hands.
Jazzmyn watched in horror as the thick metal chain ripped apart like paper.
Julian eased the chain through the gate and dropped it to the ground. He wiped his hands together and then pulled the gates open.
“Initially, when I was alone with Odette, I was a proper gentleman, but she was the one who made improper advances toward me. She was curious about the opposite sex, so I educated her,” he explained as they began to walk down the wide main street inside the cemetery.
Jazzmyn cast her eyes to the shell-covered road. “No means no, Julian. I’m sure that was just as true in your time as it is today.”
“Not quite. In my day, if you made advances to a man, you had better be prepared to see them through.” He directed his eyes down one of the side alleys that turned off the main road. “This way,” he ordered, pointing to a narrow walkway.
Jazzmyn followed him as he turned down the alley.
“After the rape, Odette came to me. She blamed herself for what had occurred. And then a funny thing happened.” Julian paused. “She wanted more. Raping her did not turn her off to sex, it turned her on to me.” He laughed, a cruel sounding chortle that made Jazzmyn’s blood run cold. “She wanted me to overpower her, to dominate her like I had the night I raped her.” He shrugged. “Needless to say she was a frequent visitor to my bed after that.”
Jazzmyn observed his profile in the bright moonlight. “Then why did she kill herself?”
Julian stopped at another intersection of alleyways. “She didn’t hang herself,” he coolly stated.
Jazzmyn froze. “What are you saying?”
“One of Odette’s favorite games in bed was rape. She could only achieve an orgasm if I practically strangled the life out of her. Today, you would call it asphyxiaphilia or erotic asphyxiation.”
Jazzmyn closed her eyes as a wave of nausea passed through her.
“One night, things got a little out of hand.” He turned down the path.
“So you hung her body from a tree in the back garden of her home to cover your tracks,” Jazzmyn surmised as she fell in step beside him.
“There was no CSI or forensic analysis back then, Jazzmyn. I had to make it look like she killed herself. For something like that to have gotten out would have ruined me and my family. I never meant to harm her, I was just participating in her fantasy. Despite what you might think, I became quite fond of little Odette.”
“But what about the curse? If she didn’t kill herself because she was shamed, then why did Eve curse you?”
He stopped and turned to her. “Because the stupid bitch didn’t know!” he shouted. “She didn’t know about Odette and me. Odette never told her. She never told anyone. Eve assumed I had done something cruel to make Odette kill herself, but Odette was smaller than you, Jazzmyn. She was five-foot-two and very petite. No one bothered to ask how such a small woman could hang herself from a tree branch ten feet off the ground.” He stopped and ran his hand through his curly hair, calming himself. “When you wanted to kill yourself in my time, you took poison or used a gun. Hanging was something you did to runaway slaves and condemned prisoners. It was a shameful death, and Eve knew it.”
“She figured Odette had been shamed in some way and had chosen hanging as a way to point the finger at you. Is that it?”
He nodded. “In the end, all of this comes down to a simple mistake. If I had left Odette’s body to be found on the street, they would have assumed she had been strangled by a robber, and I would never have been cursed. In trying to hide my crime, I did not think my actions through and jumped to the one form of death I thought would completely cover my guilt.” He began making his way along a path in between several large tombs.
Jazzmyn quickly followed him. “Why didn’t you just go to Eve and tell her the truth? Maybe she would have lifted the curse?”
“I did. She said I deserved the curse no matter what the truth was. She said I had corrupted Odette. I had killed her the moment I was betrothed to her.”
Julian suddenly stopped before a large tomb that Jazzmyn instantly recognized.
Made of pure white marble and done in the Baroque style, the tomb rose fifteen feet into the air and was over ten feet wide. At the top was the large decorative ornamental urn that bore the name of “Livaudais” at its base. The square mini-masoleum was decorated with wreaths, swords, and swirls, reflecting the icons found in the family coat of arms. When she was a little girl, Jazzmyn’s father would bring her to this cemetery every All Saint’s Day to help him wipe the grime of the city from the fine marble tomb. She remembered how her father would go down the long list of names carved on the bronze front panel and share tidbits of information about every former Livaudais.
“You made it, I see,” a woman’s deep, throaty voice called from the darkness surrounding them.
Emerging from the shadows of the neighboring Iberia Society sepulcher was a round woman dressed all in white. She had a white turban wrapped around her head, wore a white robe tied at the waist with rope, and sported a pair of white nursing shoes. Her face was covered by dark glasses, and she carried a brown paper shopping bag in her hand.
“You brought everythin’ I told you to bring?” she queried in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar to Jazzmyn.
Julian nodded and placed the duffel bag on the ground by her feet. “We also had our ritual baths, as per your instructions,” he assured her.
The older woman removed several white candles from inside the brown paper shopping bag. She handed the candles to Julian. “Place these at the four corners of the tomb.” She unzipped the top of the duffel bag and dug around until she pulled out the jar of olive oil. “Spread the oil around the outside of the tomb in a thin line,” she instructed.
Julian took the candles and jar of oil in his hands, and walked over to the grave.
Jazzmyn moved closer to the woman and inspected her round face.
“You’re the bride?” the older woman asked in her gruff voice.
Jazzmyn nodded. “You’re Lucinda La Cre. Have we met before?”
Lucinda lowered the dark glasses covering her eyes. “How ya holdin’ up, child?” Ms. Helen whispered to her, and then she winked.
Jazzmyn jumped. “You?” She quickly lowered her voice so Julian could not hear. “You’re Lucinda?”
Ms. Helen chuckled. “My priestess name is Lucinda La Cre. The tourists like it if you give them somethin’ theatrical. They tip better that way.”
“If he finds out you’re not a voodoo priestess, he’ll kill you.”
Ms. Helen waved an unconcerned hand at her. “But I am a voodoo priestess, Jazzmyn. I’ve always been strong in the art. Not to worry, I know what I’m doin’.”
Julian came back to Jazzmyn’s side. “I’ve lai
d out the candles and spread the oil. Now what?”
Ms. Helen looked him over from head to toe. “Get the pennies, your picture, and the knife from the duffel bag.” She motioned to the front of the tomb and handed him a box of matches. “Lay those things out at the entrance to the tomb and then light the candles.” She gazed up at the night sky. “Moon’s almost at its height. Time to get started.”
Julian laid the pennies, knife, and his miniature portrait out on the front ledge of the tomb. When he began to light the candles, the air around the large, vaulted structure quickly changed. Instead of a cool spring breeze, the atmosphere grew heavy with condensation.
Jazzmyn turned to Ms. Helen. “What’s happening?” She waved her hand through the thick mist that was swirling around them.
“The spirits are comin’,” Ms. Helen told her. “The air changes when they show up. They know somethin’ is gonna happen.”
Julian went to Jazzmyn’s side, but Ms. Helen pulled him away. “You stand here, facin’ Odette.” She positioned Julian in front of the tomb and turned his head to face the long bronze panel listing the names of all the grave’s occupants. “Look at Odette’s name at the top of the list,” Ms. Helen directed. “Think of her, what she was like and how she looked. Call to her spirit with your mind.” Ms. Helen then took Jazzmyn’s hand. “You stand here, behind him.” She placed Jazzmyn behind Julian. “Look at him and think only of your love for him.”
Jazzmyn stared at the back of Julian’s head as a swirling drizzle surrounded the two of them. The mist moved closer to Jazzmyn, hovering about her hips and waist.
Ms. Helen came up to her side and noted how the light swirl of thick air concentrated around her. “Just what I figured,” Ms. Helen huffed and placed her hands on her wide hips.
Julian turned to her. “What? What is it?”
Ms. Helen pointed to Jazzmyn. “Is this woman your intended?”
Julian nodded. “She is a Livaudais, a direct descendent of Odette’s and the chosen one.”
Ms. Helen shook her head. “She ain’t your chosen one.” She placed her hand over Jazzmyn’s lower abdomen. “This is your chosen one. The child inside her is the one who will set you free.”
Jazzmyn glanced down at Ms. Helen’s hand covering her stomach. “You’re joking?”
Ms. Helen smiled at her. “You’re the gateway to his reckonin’. The child is his reckonin’.” She removed her hand from Jazzmyn’s belly. “Your daughter is the one who will end the curse, Jazzmyn.”
Julian staggered around to face her. “You’re pregnant?”
Jazzmyn threw her hands in the air. “It’s news to me!”
“How can I be a father?” he asked, turning to Ms. Helen.
“I didn’t say you were the father.” Ms. Helen nodded to Jazzmyn. “But she is your intended.”
“I don’t understand!” Jazzmyn exclaimed, putting her hands over her belly.
“The intended is the one he can mate with, but the chosen one is the only person who can end the curse.” Ms. Helen turned to Julian. “History has a funny way of repeatin’ itself, don’t it, boy? The dead girl was pregnant, wasn’t she?”
Jazzmyn gawked at Julian. “Odette was pregnant?”
He nodded slightly. “I never knew until after Odette was dead. Eve told me the same day she placed the curse on me. Odette never told her of the child, but Eve knew, just like Lucinda knows about you.”
Ms. Helen turned to the list of names on the tomb entrance. “Eve wanted him to pay for Odette and the baby. That’s why he had to find you. Eve made it so he had to recreate what he had with Odette. It’s not her he has to make amends with…it’s his child.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jazzmyn cried out. “So now what happens? What am I supposed to do, Ms. Helen?”
“Ms. Helen?” Julian roared. “Ms. Helen from your restaurant?”
Jazzmyn waved to her. “Her real name is Helen Batiste. And yes, she works at my restaurant.”
Julian glared at Ms. Helen. “You’re the one who has been filling Jazzmyn’s head with lies about me.”
She shook her finger at him. “They weren’t lies, and you know it, demon.”
“You told Jazzmyn I was going to kill her. You said that knowing we would be coming here tonight to lift the curse. Are you even a real voodoo priestess?” he asked, raising his voice.
“I’m the best in the city. I can make powerful juju.” Ms. Helen sighed and removed her dark glasses. “But I cannot lift your curse tonight.”
“You mean you won’t lift it!” Julian shouted. “You two planned this. You both conspired to cheat me of my freedom from this hell!”
“Julian, I didn’t know Ms. Helen was Lucinda La Cre. I swear it,” Jazzmyn pleaded, fearing the growing anger she heard in his voice.
Ms. Helen turned to him. “It doesn’t matter. Nothin’ can be done with the child comin’.”
Julian leaned his head back and gave a booming, guttural howl that echoed throughout the cemetery. The muscles in his body began expanding and his black clothes quickly stretched taut across his chest and thighs. His breath came in frantic fits and his eyes rolled over black. His fists beat into his thighs as his shoulders widened. He bent over in pain while small white horns sprouted from his head. When he finally stood erect before Jazzmyn and Ms. Helen, he was well over seven feet tall.
His vile eyes found Jazzmyn and he made a move toward her, but Ms. Helen bravely jumped in front of him.
“Kill her and you kill any chance you have of freein’ yourself of this,” she barked at him.
He grabbed Ms. Helen by the arm with his thick, hairy hand.
She turned to Jazzmyn and yelled, “Run!”
Julian clasped his other hand around Ms. Helen’s throat. He raised her off the ground with one arm, dangling her feet in the air above the shell-covered path.
Jazzmyn took off and made for the shadows of the tombs. She could hear Ms. Helen gurgling for air behind her, and she fought back the tears as she ran in and out of the maze of pathways that meandered through the dense cemetery. She was trying to find her way in the moonlight, looking for tombs she knew, landmarks she recognized that would lead her back to the entrance. Suddenly, the fear from the nightmares that had besieged her since Julian had arrived began choking her. Jazzmyn was gasping for breath in a forest of stone and running for her life from a monster; she was alive inside her nightmare.
When Jazzmyn stumbled over the corner of a tomb hidden by the shadows, a giant hand seized her left shoulder from behind.
“You can’t outrun me, Jazzmyn,” Julian growled in an evil voice.
Her body was shaking violently with terror. “Please Julian. Don’t do this!”
She closed her eyes and prayed to the heavens above as his hands grabbed her waist and lifted her into the air like a small child. When she opened her eyes, she saw Julian’s horrible face, twisted with hatred. He placed his nose against her crotch and sniffed her.
Jazzmyn’s heart felt as if it were going to come charging out of her chest. She wanted to vomit as her stomach cramped with abject panic.
“She’s right,” he mumbled over her body. “I can smell the child in you.” His unholy eyes glanced up at her. “Is it mine?”
“I…I don’t know, Julian.”
His mouth curled into a cruel grin. “I loved you and you betrayed me.”
“I did not set out to betray you. It just happened between Kyle and me.”
“What did he have that I didn’t?” he demanded, looming over her.
“My trust.”
Julian closed his eyes against the sting of her words. He carefully placed her back on the shell-covered path and let her go.
Julian’s hulking body towered over her in the moonlight. “This isn’t over,” he snarled at her. He grabbed the small satyr figurine from around her neck and yanked it free. “I’ll be back for the child and for you. I will never give you up, Jazzmyn.” He held the gold necklace before her face. “You are mine, body and so
ul,” he whispered.
Julian gazed upward to the moon above and then took off running into the darkness of the tombs surrounding them.
Jazzmyn stood shaking as she listened to the cemetery around her. After a few seconds ticked by, she heard the distant sound of the heavy iron front gates rattling. Not long after that, the revving of a loud car engine broke through the stillness of the graveyard. She bent over and gasped for breath, fighting back the rancid taste of vomit in her mouth. Suddenly, she remembered Ms. Helen.
Jazzmyn ran along the row after row of high, vaulted tombs, trying to make her way through the terrain of shadows and moonlight. When she came to the Livaudais family crypt, Jazzmyn eagerly searched the area for any sign of her dear friend.
“I’m here,” Ms. Helen called out as she emerged from the side of the tomb.
Jazzmyn ran up to her and threw her arms about her neck. “I thought he killed you.” Jazzmyn held on to Ms. Helen, and as she felt the realization of everything finally hit her, she began to cry.
Ms Helen held her and gently rocked her back and forth in her arms. “I’m all right, child. I’m all right. Shh.”
Jazzmyn stood back from her and wiped her hands beneath her eyes. “How did you get away?”
Ms. Helen patted Jazzmyn’s round cheek. “I used the best thing I know to repel a demon.”
“What spell or curse or juju is that?” she asked, almost laughing with relief.
Ms. Helen pulled a small canister from the front pocket of her white robe. “Mace. Works on demons and muggers, too.”
Jazzmyn surveyed the vast cemetery around them. “What do we do now?”
“We go home. You go back to your life and have your baby.”
Jazzmyn gave Ms. Helen a skeptical going over with her eyes. “Didn’t you make that up to save me?”
Ms. Helen shook her head. “That was no lie. You’re with child, Jazzmyn.”
“But how did you know? I mean, I can’t be pregnant yet. It’s too early for anyone to know that.”
Ms. Helen grinned. “The spirits knew. They told me you were pregnant when they circled ‘round your body the way they did. I just interpreted their message for you.”
The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1) Page 24
