They might be right.
She snuggled back into the four-poster bed, staring at the folded parchment on the table as if it had teeth. Who was he, really? The man’s masculine scrawl was burned into her brain now. Bold, strong, confident.
He had seduced Isabel—that much was obvious. And he was determined. His words made it clear he wasn’t about to let her forget what they’d done together. They’d also been crucial for constructing her own fantasy. But where had those other details come from? The friend, Catherine. Her concerns about the difference in their stations, not to mention her internal conflict about her own desires. It was so detailed. So real.
Her subconscious portrayal of a girl who understood her circumstance but was too naïve or helpless to change it notwithstanding, part of her had wanted to be Isabel. If only for a moment, to know what it felt like to have that kind of passion directed at her.
She rolled onto her side and heard the jangle of the chain. She’d forgotten she was wearing the locket. She reached up to take it off and hesitated. Her fingers stroked the intricate flower engraved in the brass and it soothed her, lulled her.
She’d take it off in the morning and show it to Michelle, adding it to the other things her friend had found of Isabel’s. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to show her the letters. Not just yet. Not until she’d had a chance to read the rest of them.
Her secret, for now.
“Marcel.” She breathed the name on a sleepy sigh, part of her hoping she’d dream of him again. Even if he wasn’t real.
Chapter 3
He was in the St. Louis Cemetery near Basin Street. Drawn here before the first rays of dawn, compelled to this place, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d arrived in time to witness the departure of the teenagers in ghoulish masks who’d dared each other to brave the dark beside the mausoleums and grave sites.
Luckily for them, the Ghede family were protective of foolish children. In his experience, when humans looked for trouble they usually found it.
He reached a beautiful marble mausoleum, smaller than the others. The profile of a lovely woman’s face was carved into the doorway like a heartbreaking cameo, just above the image of a small boy at play. Both so young? Such a waste. He searched for a name, but there was nothing. No family to mourn them, nor a record of the years they’d lived and died. Why would someone go to all this trouble to make a remembrance so detailed, only to keep the identity of the dead a secret?
That was his idea of hell. To be unremembered and unsung.
“You’ve come.”
BD whirled around, seeing nothing, but easily recognizing the old man’s voice. What game was he playing now?
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Why would I ever think that?”
He could hear the sarcasm. “I thought All Saints’ didn’t require me to possess a body. Please don’t tell me my punishment already begins and I’m to take over a corpse.” He shuddered. “Spending my last day of freedom in a state of decay would be cruel and unusual. Even for you.”
The laughter wrapped around him like an embrace, making him smile in spite of his suspicions.
“I wouldn’t do that to you, son. We’ve been through too much together, you and I. No. You’ll have the body you came with, whole and alive, as promised. You earned it and then some. That particular djab had been a thorn in my personal side for centuries.”
“Then why am I here? What are we waiting for?”
“I’ll tell you, but first you need to heed my warning. You haven’t experienced what’s coming before. You’ve taken over bodies, but today you’ll be fully human, with no powers or magnetism beyond your own natural charm.”
“Which is substantial,” BD couldn’t help but remind him.
“So you claim.” His mentor continued. “Being human, you will feel hot and cold, hunger and thirst. All the pangs that come with mortality, good and bad, will be yours to experience, including emotions that might overwhelm you.”
“Are you trying to scare me, old man, or turn me on?”
“I’m trying to warn you. Actions have consequences. For humans most of all.”
“No orgies while bungee jumping,” BD acknowledged, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Any other ominous warnings? Or will you lighten up and join me? I know a few hidden hot spots you would love. Great music. Great food. And the women…”
The deep sigh was a breeze in the damp morning air. “Some of us have to stay behind to keep the home fires burning. It’s time, BD. Time for you to have your day. Use it well. Be with the people who matter, and try not to waste a moment.”
BD glanced around the cemetery again. He’d expected to see the others. “You said you’d tell me why I had to come here.”
“One journey begins where the last met its end.”
“A riddle? For me? You usually save your mystic haikus for the humans.” He knew the old man was gone, he could feel it. “And you can never just answer a damn question.”
Suddenly, he could feel it coming. The sky had lightened, setting the stage for the new day. His day.
He would seek out his friends, have as much food as he could fit in his stomach, and take as many lovers as time allowed. Maybe he could even spare an hour or two to convince young Rousseau to put the past behind them. He’d grown fond of the boy, and it hurt him more than he was willing to admit to be cast as the villain.
He’d grown rather attached to all of them. Michelle and Ben, sweet, brave Allegra. Maybe the Loa who’d sat in judgment were right, and he’d lost his perspective. He was no family ghost. No pet. He was supposed to be above it all. Guiding humans as the others did toward a better life. In his case, a better sex life.
Soft morning light hit the distressed grey stones and monuments around him, and he began to feel it. A shimmer. A tingle. Little ants on his skin.
Skin?
He looked down and saw himself begin to change. Solidify. It was slow and painful, though some part of him knew it happened in an instant. Everything hurt. Heaviness, like lead in his limbs, dropped him to his knees, and the impact startled him.
“Damn.”
Was this a punishment after all? The ants on his skin had become a vicious mass of fangs and stingers, piercing him, sending fire racing through his veins. Blood in his veins. Blood pumped by a heart beating far too fast.
Something was very wrong. Was this normal? Would he be given life just to die a mortal death? Surely the others didn’t willingly go through this kind of agony year after year.
Dizziness swamped him, and bile rose in his throat as he smelled the stench of garbage and death. The stale tang of sweat. His own?
He gagged, but nothing came out. He was so empty. His stomach began to spasm and he looked up with wild eyes, seeking purchase, balance, in a world gone sideways.
And saw her. The carving in marble. She looked so serene. So lovely.
Familiar.
Why did she look familiar?
He collapsed, glancing down in surprise to see a wound carving itself into his side. He cried out in shock and pain, but before the blood could flow out onto the ground, the wound healed, a scar forming before his eyes. A raised, ugly slash.
It felt as though he’d been gutted. His hands closed into fists, body curling into a fetal position as the pain overcame him.
This was not how he’d expected to start his day.
The last thought he had before he fell into unconsciousness was of the woman in the carving. At least he’d be lying beside her as he died.
It was oddly comforting.
“You really didn’t have to come, Allegra. You’re getting married tonight. You should be relaxing. Getting pampered.”
Allegra slipped her arm through Bethany’s. “Are you kidding? A morning adventure in a cemetery? I’ll take that over a pedicure any day.”
Michelle mumbled under her breath. “Of course my friends love cemeteries. Makes perfect sense.”
Beneath the humor, she was unusua
lly pale and obviously uncomfortable. It only took Bethany a minute to realize why. “Shit, I didn’t even think about that. Is it, um, busy around here this morning?”
Michelle rubbed her arms briskly, keeping her head down. “It’s All Saints’ Day. Think Times Square on New Year’s.”
Bethany shuddered, glancing around with fresh eyes. “That’s more than a little unsettling.”
Allegra’s eyes were wide as saucers as she, too, scanned the area. “I hadn’t even thought about ghosts being here. Well, other than Emmanuel. Are we sure he knows where we’re going?”
“He knows.”
Bethany trudged along beside the two women, cursing herself. She hadn’t considered Michelle’s feelings when she’d asked to come here this morning. Hadn’t considered anything but finding the truth about Isabel.
She was obsessed. That was the only explanation.
She’d spent the last two days immersing herself in Isabel’s journal and studying the trinkets she’d saved behind the panel.
The treasure was exactly what she’d expect from a young woman of that time period. An intricate silver hair comb, a smooth river stone, and a puzzle box they still hadn’t been able to open had all been tucked away in her hiding spot in the wall, along with her diary.
Ben Adair grumbled about wasted years, but even his eyes glowed with interest as he gazed upon the items he and Michelle had spent a lifetime wondering about.
What they’d discovered was that Isabel’s father was an ass. Bartering deals on his daughter’s beauty, holding her hostage to his own greed. He’d sent his wife away when Isabel was very young, and the elder Spaniard missed no opportunity to blame her French mother for all his woes and each of Isabel’s flaws.
Her only solace was her maid, Millie, Millie’s cousin, Catherine, and her little brother, Emmanuel. They consoled her and protected her from her father’s abuse as much as they could. They kept all of her secrets.
She also spoke of a man in her journals. A man she referred to as M.
Just M.
I will love M until I die. If God is good, he will let us find a way to be together.
M came to me the other night. It was like a dream.
It was like her dream, and it was damned eerie. Bethany hadn’t told anyone about the letters yet, or about her nightly visits from the sexually gifted Marcel. She wasn’t afraid they wouldn’t believe her, but she couldn’t bring herself to share any of the details. He was her secret.
She looked forward to going to bed each night, knowing he would come to her again. Sometimes it was a repeat of that first dream. Sometimes she was Isabel when he’d found her in the library. Or in their favorite spot in the park. The dreams were always passionate, always romantic. Marcel hardly let a moment go by without letting her know she was special. Loved.
She was falling a little in love with M herself.
They were just dreams, right? Though the more she read Isabel’s journal, the more she wondered. Was the mysterious M her Marcel? If it were true... But how could it be?
Allegra and Michelle were in the middle of a conversation when she managed to pull herself away from her worrisome thoughts.
“The reception will be good for him. Rousseau needs to realize that people like your mother practice the religion for positive ends. With faith and love instead of greed, like his father. He needs to find peace with something that took over so much of his life.”
Michelle shook her head at Allegra. “It’s your call, but you know my mama. Her celebrations are unique. I’ll understand if you and Rousseau don’t stay too long after the ceremony. Hell, if Ben wasn’t holding it in his backyard, I wouldn’t stay long.”
Poor Rousseau. Another bad father. Like Isabel’s. Like Michelle’s. Bethany often wondered if she would have had problems with her own, but he’d died when she was a baby, along with her mother. All she had was her less than demonstrative Aunt Sally.
She’d read Allegra’s notes and a few chapters of the book she was writing. If it had been fiction, she would have been lost in the eroticism of it, the sensuality of this spirit who mounted a human host, riding him into one decadent experience after another. But Rousseau had lived it. And in his mind, at least from what Allegra had told her, it had felt more like a punishment than a gift. A sacrifice to save his family.
Allegra was good for him. She wouldn’t let him feel sorry for himself or live in the past. Wouldn’t let him forget the good and cling to the bad. She was a joyful person, full of life. Bethany wished them every happiness.
Personally, she was both dreading and looking forward to the evening’s celebrations. Dreading because she was uncomfortable with crowds, but excited because Michelle’s mother was a mambo, a voodoo priestess. Another fact Michelle had neglected to mention until recently.
After the minister married Allegra and Rousseau in the mansion’s backyard, which was being beautifully decorated by the team Ben had brought in, the All Saints’ celebration would begin. People would bring liquor and food for the Ghede family, and maybe someone would even be taken over, or mounted, by a spirit. Eventually they would all make their way to the cemeteries where their loved ones were entombed, to lay flowers, cards, and food.
As long as she had a good seat for that, and didn’t have to talk to too many strangers, it sounded like fun. She wondered if Isabel had celebrated the day with her mysterious M.
“He’s pretty excited. I think he’s found it.” Michelle smiled at Bethany. “That was really clever, by the way. I can’t believe I never thought to ask him where he was buried. He didn’t like to talk about anyone but his sister, and I honestly wasn’t sure he wanted to relive his funeral.”
Bethany’s heart was racing. Families were usually buried close together. Though there was no record of Isabel, she was sure there would be some clue, something that would help her discover what had happened to her. Emmanuel was the key. She felt it.
“What the—You’ve got to be kidding me,” Michelle gasped in disbelief.
Bethany turned the corner an instant behind her, her eyes drawn to a lovely miniature mausoleum. It was beautifully preserved, but Michelle was staring at the ground beside it, her mouth open in shock.
Allegra’s shout made them both jump. “Holy hell! Is that guy dead? Is there a dead guy in the cemetery on my wedding day?”
Bethany was about to point out how many dead guys were probably in this cemetery when Michelle whirled around. “Wait, you can see him? Tell me. Tell me exactly what you see.”
The redhead squinted and leaned closer before she answered. “A naked man with nice buns, hopefully living buns. Maybe he just passed out and he’d not actually dead? What do you see Bethany?”
She’d finally gotten a good look herself and was having a hard time lifting her gaze away from the most perfectly formed male ass she’d ever seen.
“Tell me,” Michelle demanded, a little impatiently.
“Naked buns. I see him, too. I also see him breathing. I think it’s safe to say he’s not a ghost yet.”
Allegra blew out a shaky breath. “My first wedding crisis averted.”
Michelle was already on the ground beside him, feeling his neck for a pulse. “A pulse. You see him and he’s breathing and he has to have a heart for it to beat.”
“Chelle, you’re scaring the bride,” Allegra said softly, moving closer cautiously. “What’s going on?”
“You don’t understand.” She rolled him over before Bethany could stop her from moving the body and pointing at it. “This is Bone Daddy.”
“Good grief.”
“No way.” Allegra knelt beside her, studying the perfectly sculpted face, the full lips, and long, velvet lashes. “That’s impossible, isn’t it? Loa are energy. Ancient spirits. He looks so young.” She poked his shoulder. “He feels—”
“Solid? Alive?” Michelle rubbed her temple. “I know. Unless he has a descendant who happens to be his doppelganger, I have no idea how this could happen. But this is absolutely him. E
xactly how I saw him last, only in physical form. And, you know, naked.”
Bethany couldn’t stop shaking her head. “I can’t get beyond the how here, Michelle. If he’s a Loa, then he doesn’t have a body of his own. You said he couldn’t interact without one.”
Michelle got to her feet unsteadily, unable to look away from the prone figure. “I need to talk to my mother. And Ben.” She slid her hand into her jeans pocket and pulled out her cell phone with shaking fingers.
Bethany was having a hard time catching her breath. If this really was Bone Daddy, why did he look like the identical twin of her dream lover, Marcel?
Had the Loa been visiting her in her sleep? Fooling her and playing with her emotions for fun?
She took Michelle’s place at his side, needing to get a closer look at his face. Allegra took off her shawl and covered his hips, which Bethany was grateful for. How was a woman supposed to concentrate when such a perfect specimen appeared at your feet, naked and hung like a... Well, superiorly endowed.
“I know you.” She didn’t know she’d whispered the words out loud until Allegra touched her arm.
“You know him? How can you?”
She was so thrown she was wasn’t able to lie. “I’ve dreamt about him. For days now.”
“Are you kidding me? Of course you’re not.” Michelle was standing over her, phone in hand. “I was wondering where he’d been keeping himself, especially since you came to visit. I was positive he’d show up to hit on you.”
“I guess he did,” she said weakly, unwilling to tell them more.
“Ben’s on his way over to help get him into the car, and Mama is coming to the house as soon as she can.”
“You’re bringing him home?” Bethany couldn’t hide her surprise.
Michelle pushed back her hair and gestured helplessly. “He saved my life, Bethany. Saved Ben’s life. I owe it to him not to leave him naked in a graveyard, don’t you think? Today of all days, when we’re supposed to be respecting the dead and the Loa, I can’t just leave him here.”
Undo Me (Bone Daddy Book 3) Page 4
