Once Haunted, Twice Shy (The Peyton Clark Series Book 2)

by H. P. Mallory

  Before I could question how Ryan could remove my spiritual block, he simply disappeared right in front of me. I blinked and sat up straight, searching for any sign of him, but there was nothing. I found only the wispy clouds of cigar smoke enveloping me before dissipating into the ether. I blinked again and found Guarda standing above me, but she was gazing at something in the distance, something right behind me. I glanced back and noticed nothing was there.

  “It weren’t enough?” she asked, shaking her head before she began to nod. “Yes, I will do yer biddin’, Loa. I will find ya a suitable vessel.” She nodded. “She yours, Loa, she yours.”

  “Is he still here?” I asked, wondering if she was still talking to Baron Samedi, and why it was that I couldn’t see him.

  Guarda turned to face me immediately, as if she was surprised I was still in the room. She wore a bizarre expression that I half thought could have been astonishment in her old, faded eyes. She held an unlit candle that smelled like some sort of oil, which dripped off the end of the candle and landed on the carpet. “Where did he go?” I asked.

  Her eyes narrowed. “His work here was done so he done left.”

  I closed my eyes as a wave of dizziness overtook me. When I opened them, I focused on the wick of the candle in Guarda’s hand, only to find it was suddenly burning, and the red wax was pooling at the top. I could just make out very crude scratch marks in the side of the candle. The more I studied the markings, the more they took shape until I recognized them as letters, a P and a C.

  “P, C,” I repeated out loud, suddenly feeling woozy. All of the clarity I’d previously experienced with Baron Samedi was gone, leaving me with the feeling of inebriation. “P, C,” I said again, shaking my head as I tried to understand why the letters seemed so familiar. “Peyton Clark!” I burst out as soon as it dawned on me that the carvings in the side of the candle were my own initials.

  Guarda took no notice of my jubilance. Instead, she chanted something I couldn’t understand as she placed the burning candle on the floor right between my feet. Suddenly remembering that I’d been buck naked only moments before, I glanced down at myself only to find I was clothed again. I instinctively felt for the gris-gris in my pocket and started to breathe a sigh of relief once I felt its familiar outline. That relief was transient, though, after I remembered Baron Samedi’s comments that the thing was basically useless. I could only hope he meant that it was only useless against his power . . .

  As a flood of dizziness overtook me, I closed my eyes again and tried to decide which way was up and which was down. When I reopened my eyes, I found Guarda kneeling before me. There was a bunch of objects on the floor in front of her, but my vision was growing so blurry, I found I couldn’t focus on any of them, and their identities remained a mystery.

  Instead, I fought to keep my eyes open and tried to focus on Guarda, who was now holding three pieces of ribbon in her hands: black, red, and yellow. They were tied together at one end and I watched her study me as she started to tie knots into the ribbons, repeating “Peyton Clark” with each knot she tied. She continued tying knots and chanting my name until she had about nine knots. Then she reached for what looked like a little gingerbread man at the base of her knees. When she lifted the thing up, I realized it was a crudely constructed doll made from what looked like burlap. It was maybe the size of my hand, and naked except for two buttons of different sizes and colors, which were sewn onto the doll’s face to resemble eyes. Guarda was tying the knotted ribbons around the doll’s neck. Then she reached back down between her knees and produced a needle.

  “Gimme yer hand,” she said coarsely. I glanced down at my right hand, but it seemed as if it were miles away from me. I waved it a few times, wondering why my arms had grown so long. Guarda reached out and gripped my hand, wrapping her gnarled, tree trunk fingers around my index finger. Then she held the needle up to the pad of my finger and pierced the end of it. At the unexpected jabbing pain, I cried out and tried to pull my hand away, but her grip was too strong. She squeezed my finger until blood pooled on the top of it. Then she grabbed the button-eyed doll and smeared my blood all over its face.

  She pushed my finger away and reached back down to her knees where she grasped what looked like a small piece of rough bark, or maybe it was an old, petrified nut. She attached the thing to the doll by tying it with the three ribbons. Then she retrieved a large, black pen from the floor, and, holding the doll in place, started drawing on its stomach. When she was finished, she placed the doll beside the lit candle, between my feet. I glanced down at the doll, curious to see what Guarda had drawn on it. It looked like two snakes facing one another and sticking their tongues out. Between them were three stars.

  When I looked back up at Guarda, I found her milky eyes focused on mine. “Damballah Wedo, I give you the blood o’ her who I wish ta command. I beg ya ta grant me victory ova her will,” she continued as she held the doll before reaching for a vial of oil at her knees. She poured the oil over the doll and I suddenly felt as if she were pouring the oil over me, and my entire body. My skin felt slimy and wet. I ran my hands down my arms, feeling for slickness, but found none. I closed my eyes against another bout of extreme dizziness. I could faintly hear Guarda chanting and when I attempted to open my eyes again, I couldn’t because they were clasped tightly shut.

  “I command ya, I compel ya,” she chanted in a whispered voice. “I command ya, I compel ya, Peyton Clark. Ya will do as I bid.”

  I felt a cold wind blast my face and seconds later, I could smell the acrid scent of smoke, and the candle’s wick being blown out. I fought to open my eyes, but it was no use, my body seemed as if it no longer answered to me.

  “When ya open yer eyes, you’ll forgit all o’ this,” Guarda continued. “I command ya, I compel ya. Open yer eyes now an’ forgit!”

  A bolt of what felt like electricity surged through me. I heard myself scream out as my eyes fluttered open. I found I was lying on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. I took a few deep breaths and tried to orient myself, but my mind was completely blank. I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing on the floor.

  “Peyton?” It was Lovie’s voice. I blinked a few more times and looked at her face where it appeared above me.

  “Lovie?” I asked, my voice coming out rough and hoarse, like I’d pretty much lost it.

  She gazed down at me while rubbing the side of my face, and nodded. I took comfort in her sweet smile. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  I wasn’t sure I was okay. I had no memory of what had just happened and that realization stuck in my gut. “Is the block gone?” I asked, feeling like I’d just emerged from a deep, long sleep and not really sure whether I was still dreaming.

  “It gone,” Guarda answered, holding her jaw tightly. I looked at her and felt something unpleasant bubbling up inside me. I couldn’t put my finger on the emotion, though, and decided I was just incredibly exhausted. Lovie extended her hand, which I accepted, allowing her to help me into a sitting position. Once there, I rolled onto my hands and knees and took a few deep breaths as the room circled erratically around me. I shook my head, attempting to clear the cloudiness that remained in my mind. Leaning back onto my knees, I waited until I felt up to it, then started to stand. I was a bit wobbly on my feet, but Lovie was instantly beside me, wrapping her arms around me as she supported my body weight and assisted me to the door.

  “Why do I feel so woozy?” I asked.

  “You’ve neva experienced magic before,” Lovie answered. “Sometimes it can put yer body through the wringer.”

  “Drake,” I thought, suddenly wondering why he was so quiet. “Are you okay?”

  “Oui, ma minette,” he answered, his voice sounding unsteady and faint. “I am afraid I do not quite feel myself. I share your lethargy.”

  But lethargy wasn’t exactly the right word for the way I felt. This was more like delirium. I tried to see
my feet, but almost needed to remind myself to lift my foot up and then put it down again in order to walk to the door. I was vaguely aware of Lovie discussing what sounded like payment with Guarda.

  “Ma minette, are you well?” Drake asked. “I am concerned for you.” I got the distinct impression that he was shaking his head, seemingly confused. “I do not possess any memory of what just occurred.”

  “Neither do I,” I responded. “It’s like there’s a big void in my head.”

  “Oui, I feel the same. I do not understand this, mon chaton.” I could suddenly feel his anger. “I do not trust this old woman! I believe she has done something to us, ma minette!”

  I couldn’t say I disagreed but I also didn’t have the wherewithal to think about it any further. As it was, I felt like I was about to pass out.

  Upon reaching the front door, I paused momentarily and took a deep breath, my mind full of buzzing insects, all fluttering around in my skull and causing pressure between my eyes. I closed my eyes and thought about the haven of Ryan’s truck. Then an image of Ryan arose in my head and I instantly felt relief and warmth around and inside of me. All I wanted to do was see Ryan. Then I would be safe. Ryan would take care of me. I opened my eyes and with Lovie’s help, worked my way onto the porch and the muddy ground below. I heard the sound of Guarda closing the door behind us, but I kept my attention strictly facing forward, blinking away the rain as it landed in my face.

  “We need yer help,” I heard Lovie say, presumably into her cell phone. “She can barely walk.”

  “Take one step at a time, mon chaton,” Drake whispered through my head. “Breathe in and breathe out. One step at a time.”

  I focused on his words, trying not to allow myself to succumb to the darkness that was beginning to weigh down my eyelids. Only seconds later, I watched Ryan’s white truck rolling into the driveway. Lovie stopped walking and held me as I stood gasping for air because I felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen. It crossed my mind that Guarda wouldn’t be too happy about strangers in her yard, but I quickly dismissed the thought as one I really didn’t care about.

  Ryan put the truck in “park” and opened his door, jumping down to the muddy ground below. I brought my eyes to his and noticed his were wide with worry. He ran up to Lovie and me and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me bridal-style as Lovie stepped aside.

  “What’s wrong with her?” he asked as I wrapped my arms around his neck and happily let my head rest against his chest. I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of safety his body offered. His scent filled my nostrils and I held onto him even more tightly.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered.

  “Nothin’s wrong with her, Ryan. She’s jist been put through a magical wringer. She’s okay. She’s just gonna need ta sleep it off,” Lovie assured him.

  “How are you feelin’, Pey?” he asked as he pressed me more firmly against him and I thanked my lucky stars that he was there.

  “I’m tired,” I answered without opening my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so safe, protected, and content. There was nothing quite like being in Ryan’s arms.

  Moments later, he set me down on my feet and I reluctantly opened my eyes, watching Trina as she jumped down from the backseat of the truck and opened the passenger door for me. “How is she?” she asked, regarding me nervously.

  “I’m okay,” I muttered, although I wasn’t convinced that was true. I just didn’t feel like myself at all. Ryan lifted me up again and settled me into the passenger seat, carefully buckling me in. Then he gave me a little smile and closed the door. I still didn’t know where we stood relationship-wise, but I didn’t fret about it.

  I could hear the sounds of shuffling as Lovie and Trina climbed into the backseat.

  “Well?” Christopher asked.

  “Everythin’ went as expected,” Lovie responded.

  “Then my block is removed?” I asked, my voice sounding as though my throat were raw.

  “Your block is removed,” Lovie answered. “But Guarda said it took a lot o’ work ta remove it an’ lots of magic, which is why ya feel the way ya do. Ya need ta listen ta me when I tell ya ta get lots o’ rest tonight, ya hear?”

  I just nodded, thinking sleep was about the only thing I could handle in my current state.

  I blinked a few times and blinked again, but still had no clue where I was, or how I’d gotten there. The sterility of the white ceiling glared back at me. I rolled my head to the side before I recognized my chest of drawers and my lamp on top of it. Looking down, I found I was in my pajamas, in my bed and in my bedroom. The sound coming from the television comforted me with its monotone—but comforting or not, it still didn’t explain how I’d gotten home. The last thing I remembered, I was leaving Guarda’s house . . .

  “You slept like the dead,” Ryan’s voice accosted my confused ears. I glanced up to find him in the doorway, holding two brown paper bags of what looked like takeout. He was smiling his devilishly charming, boyish smile, the one that never failed to make my insides melt like butter. He held the bags up, drawing my attention to them. “I picked us up some lunch.”

  “It’s lunchtime?” I asked in a rough voice, sitting up and rubbing the back of my neck, wondering why I felt so exhausted after so much sleep: all night, all morning, and, now, into the afternoon.

  Ryan chuckled. “It’s one in the afternoon, Sleepin’ Beauty.”

  “Oh God,” I groaned, not at all happy over the passing of so much time. “What day is it?” I grumbled, imagining this was probably what the recovery from a lobotomy would feel like.

  He chuckled again. “Sunday.”

  I felt panic riding up into my stomach. “Sunday!” I repeated as I shook my head, almost annoyed that he let me sleep for so long. Then I spotted the bags of food and further shook my head. “I don’t have time to eat! Tuesday is nearly here!”

  “Calm down, Pey,” Ryan started. “I already talked to Lovie an’ she’s comin’ over shortly. In the meantime, you need to eat somethin’ so you have some energy.” His expression told me he wouldn’t be swayed.

  “Lovie’s coming over?” I repeated, my tone suspicious as I studied him from narrowed eyes.

  “Yes,” he repeated with finality, even nodding. “Once she gets here, we’ll figure out our next steps. For now, though, I just want you to focus on eatin’ so you’ll be able to get through the rest of the day. I got a feelin’ it’s gonna be a long an’ busy one.”

  I took a deep breath, relieved that Ryan had already asked Lovie to come over. Maybe we weren’t in as bad shape as I’d previously supposed. I smiled at Ryan when he placed the two bags of takeout on my bedside table and leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms against his broad chest and regarding me playfully. “You are one tryin’ woman, Peyton Clark.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, so decided to ignore it. I didn’t know how to respond to Ryan in general because I still didn’t know where we stood relationship-wise. But that was a conversation we’d have to ease into. “Have you been here since last night?” I asked. I was a little surprised because as far as I could tell, he and I very well could have been broken up after the whole Drake conversation.

  “Yep, you passed out in the truck an’ after everyone went their separate ways, I took you home, carried you into your room, put you in your jammies, an’ then to bed. After that, I basically kept myself occupied by watchin’ your television all mornin’. Which, I have to tell you, wasn’t a pleasurable experience in the least. Just how small is your screen?” He pointed to the offending object in question before frowning.

  I laughed, taking a deep breath and standing up before I approached him. “Thanks for staying with me, Ryan,” I said. I decided not to overanalyze it and, instead, threw my arms around him and hugged him. He returned the hug, but neither of us said anything. When he released me, I hesita
ntly stepped back and tried to read him. So far, it seemed like we were good; he was acting like nothing had happened between us. “Given our situation, I’m surprised you did stay with me,” I started, figuring someone had to broach the subject sooner rather than later. “It was really thoughtful.”

  “Surprised?” he repeated, almost appearing offended. “Why would you be surprised to know I care about you? I’ll never stop carin’ about you.” He didn’t give me the chance to reply. “An’ what did you mean when you say ‘our situation?’”

  “Um, I don’t know,” I said with a shrug as I took a deep breath. I was irritated at myself for bringing the subject up. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I wanted to avoid delving into a long, drawn-out explanation; not now, when so much was riding on whatever might happen on Tuesday. My stomach started to growl deeply in hunger as I opened one of the bags to see what was inside of it.

  “Sweet an’ sour chicken; your favorite,” Ryan piped up.

  “Yum,” I said, opening the other bag. “Mmm, you even got egg rolls!” I added with a huge smile, eyeing him momentarily before indulging my relentless need to know what was inside the foiled box at the bottom of the bag. “What did you get for yourself?”

  “Well, I was tempted to go for the kung pao chicken, but you always complain that it’s too spicy. Since we both know your incorrigible tendency to mooch my food, I decided to get almond chicken instead.”

  “Wow, Ryan, you’re so good to me,” I said, grabbing a fortune cookie, and tearing off the plastic wrapper. “Thanks for getting all of this.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I broke open the fortune cookie and shoved half of it in my mouth before unfolding the small, white fortune. “Conquer your fears or they will conquer you,” I read with my mouth full before remembering my manners. “Ha, that’s fitting.” Then I stuffed the other half of the cookie into my mouth while Ryan shook his head and smiled with unmasked amusement.