Undo Me (Bone Daddy Book 3)

by R. G. Alexander

  And they gave you this day. Asking for more would be foolhardy.

  “Asking doesn’t hurt anyone. You should know better than anyone that love is a powerful force. It can make miracles happen, maybe even allow you to stay here on our side, if that’s what will make you happy. You aren’t like the others. It’s possible—” Her hand jerked and then tightened on his arm. “It is possible to save a soul near death in time for a second chance.”

  “What?” He felt the blood leave his face, somehow knowing that what she’d said was important. “Speak clearly, Elise Adair. What do you see?”

  She shook her head in confusion, placing her other hand on his chest. “I don’t know. I see betrayal and pain. I see a memory, your memory, and it holds all the answers. It’s hidden with the rest of them, but you’ll need them sooner than you think.”

  The scar along his side throbbed painfully, as though the wound were fresh. He looked down, but saw no blood. “I have no memories.”

  “Mama Elise.” Michelle came rushing up to them, panting and pale. “Something’s wrong with Emmanuel. He won’t stop crying.”

  “The boy?”

  She looked down at the empty space beside her, eyes widening as she listened. “He says you need to help her, BD. He says you and I are the only ones who can.”

  “Help who?” But he instantly started scanning the yard, looking for a red dress and a long dark braid. “Where is Bethany?”

  Michelle practically snarled in frustration. “I can’t find her either, but Emmanuel says it’s his sister that’s missing, which doesn’t make any sense since Isabel’s been dead for ages.”

  BD stumbled backward, Elise still clinging to his arm. “It’s her, isn’t it?” Elise asked, her face pale. “That’s it. Bethany. Oh no.”

  “What are you saying, Elise? What’s wrong with Bethany?” Michelle’s voice was thick with panic.

  Isabel. Save Isabel.

  “No time.” He heard Elise as if through a wall, watched her close her eyes and push the palm of her hand hard into his chest again.

  Without warning the world seemed to slow to a crawl. Everything around him; the musicians and dancers, his friends, each flickering candle’s flame, all paused as if frozen, before fading altogether into darkness.

  Silence.

  Then the voices came. Rushing out at him from the darkness, chanting in an ancient language few truly knew, aided by the beating of the drums. Louder and louder until he wanted to scream. Until he was drowning, those voices pulling him under.

  “This can’t be it. It’s not time. I need more time,” he shouted. Panic and fury rampaged through him at the thought of losing Isabel again. No, Bethany.

  Suddenly all of the voices but one fell silent. A strong female voice continued the chant. Annemarie? The Mambo was so loud, so insistent, demanding something from him. He tried to shout for her, to beg her to find Bethany, but she wouldn’t listen.

  There was a sharp pain in his heart, a hand tugging at something inside him, dragging it out of him and stealing his breath. The pain.

  “There they are,” Elise whispered in his mind. There was a snap like an anchor chain letting go of its weight, followed by a powerful push of energy that had him staggering back into the world. The sounds and lights of the party, so enjoyable moments ago, were an assault to his senses as his perception snapped back to reality.

  He felt… heavier. She’d found them. His memories. Now that they were freed, they swarmed through his mind like angry bees. Beautiful and familiar. Ugly and cruel. Terrifying and empty.

  Oh God, he remembered everything.

  “What the fuck was that? What did you do to him?” Michelle’s voice sharp with concern.

  “Bethany!” He backed out of older woman’s hold, rejecting the knowledge and pity in her expression as he ran toward Ben, grabbing the man by his shirt, so roughly it tore. “Bethany is in danger. I need you to take me to the cemetery where you found me. Right now.”

  Ben didn’t hesitate. “It’ll be busy on the street tonight. We’ll take my bike.”

  Michelle, Allegra, and Rousseau were all racing up behind them. “Where?” Michelle called out.

  “St. Louis,” Ben replied. “But—"

  “We’ll follow in my car. We’ll be right behind you. Hurry.”

  BD got to the drive and hopped on the large, black motorcycle behind Ben. Seconds later the machine roared swiftly into the night while BD tried to repress a howl of agony.

  How could he have forgotten her?

  Isabel.

  The closer they got to their destination, the clearer the memories grew in his mind. Blue eyes like the deepest ocean. An unusual upside-down mouth that he longed to kiss. Blood staining her flowered dress as she lay with her throat sliced open beside her sobbing brother.

  “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

  “Almost there, BD.” Ben revved the vibrating motorcycle, weaving through the pedestrian traffic with a skill he would have admired if he could think.

  Bethany needed him. Not the same way Isabel had. She was stronger and far more independent than the girl he’d loved in secret. But in every time and every iteration, she’d always been his.

  He had to get to her in time.

  The decorative iron gates of the cemetery loomed and he tapped Ben’s shoulder to slow down enough for him to jump off.

  BD hit the ground running, threading his way through the aboveground tombs, his feet knowing exactly where to take him.

  One journey begins where the last met its end.

  Save her. Save Isabel. Save Bethany.

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” the oddly unfamiliar voice rang out. “How is that, big brother? I always said your mama made a deal with the devil, but I didn’t realize you had, as well.”

  BD stopped in front of the nondescript man who held Bethany against him, a dirty knife to her throat.

  His brow wrinkled. He didn’t recognize him, and yet it had to be—

  “Antoine?”

  “Enough of me to matter. They tried to kill me because of you, you know. Your mother and her friends. Gave me some wasting disease so I would suffer. And I did suffer. But it only made me more determined to hang on to life.” He looked down at himself with a chuckle. “After a fashion. Still, I’ve outlasted them. Beat them. Or thought I had until this morning.”

  “Antoine, let her go.”

  “I actually felt you. It’s hard to feel anything anymore, and I’ve burned through more bodies than I can count while trying. But I felt your presence. Followed it. I’ve been waiting for you. When I learned that your body had disappeared, I knew I’d see you again. I’ve given up so much to stay here, to wait for this moment, but it’s more satisfying than I imagined. Isabel remembered our anniversary. She’s here.”

  “If you waited so long, you must have a lot to say. Put down the knife and we’ll talk.”

  “I’m fine where I am.” His grip on her tightened. “You were a big believer in fate, Marcel. A romantic. Are you still? I never put that much stock in it, but as soon as I realized I would get a second chance to revisit my greatest achievement, I decided to rethink my position.” He looked down at Bethany and licked his lips. “I killed you, on a night just like this. The original Isabel. I tasted your blood when I slit your throat. I thought I killed him as well, but he’s like a cockroach, this one. Maybe we should end him first this time, stick around to make sure it takes. Would you like that? To be the finale instead of the opening act?”

  Instead of cowering, Bethany sneered. “Go to hell.”

  BD was afraid to take his eyes from his woman as she insulted the man who held her life in his hands. “Please, Ant.” He heard his voice crack, but he was beyond caring. “You never wanted to hurt Isabel. She was an innocent. It was me you were after. You’re confused.”

  Antoine laughed and the sound was familiar. His brother’s cruel laughter as he watched them die.

  “He thinks me feebleminded, Isabel. Thinks he’s
better than I am. He says I don’t want to hurt you, yet he sees the knife in my hand. Knows I’ve done it before. Two and two is still four in this century, is it not?”

  “A psychopath looks the same in this century, too, apparently. Tell him the truth, Ant.”

  “What?” He pretended innocence. “I should confess my sins? That I would have killed you, regardless? That I’d always planned to, even before I knew you were lovers? But he’s so pretty when he suffers, Isabel. I enjoy watching him blame himself.”

  Bethany was looking straight at BD as his brother—or whatever that was—spoke, and he wanted to cry. She was trying to ease his guilt? Now? She was his world. He could not fail her again. He refused.

  “I remember all the animal remains you were so fond of. Your obsession with death. I never thought you were feebleminded. I thought you were jealous and petty. Arrogant and cruel. And now I know you were also insane. Be a man, for once, and come and fight me like you’re dying to.”

  “Dying to.” Antoine cackled. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline and welcome our new arrivals instead. Come to watch the show, have you?”

  From the worried expression on Bethany’s face, Ben and the others must have found them.

  Antoine narrowed his gaze as he studied them. “The wedding party? This is your cavalry? And is that... no, it can’t be. I truly do believe I’m dreaming.” He pinched Bethany’s breast and sent them a vulgar leer. “The maid of honor can’t be here to help you, Marcel. She’s the girl who gave me my Isabel on a silver platter. Yes, I think I do believe in fate at last. Ms. Toussaint has been reborn to offer you both up to me again.”

  BD heard Michelle’s shocked gasp as he remembered who she’d been.

  Catherine Toussaint.

  “This won’t be a replay, Antoine. You succeeded in shadow, you lied and betrayed because we were blind to what you’d become. But I see you for what you are now. A small, weak parasite, hiding inside a body that doesn’t belong to you.”

  Antoine’s rage burned hot in his eyes. “Can you also see the knife I’m about to use to slice open this pale imitation’s throat? Can everyone see that I’m the one in control? As long as I have her, you’re the weak ones. Powerless.”

  At first, BD could have sworn Bethany was blinking back tears. But no. The crazy woman actually winked at him. Her hands, which had been clinging weakly to the arm holding the weapon, tightened and pushed out quick enough to surprise him. She dropped down to her knees, jamming her elbow hard between his legs before rolling out of the way.

  It was the height of foolishness. It was the bravest thing he’d ever seen. And it was a chance.

  Good girl.

  BD rushed the possessed man who was bent over in pain, knocking the knife out of his hand before punching him in the jaw.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t come close to putting him down.

  “You’re right. This is different.” Antoine wiped the blood from his lip, circling BD warily as he watched Bethany crawl on the ground toward the knife. “Isabel is more of a fighter now, Marcel. I wasn’t expecting that. The last time it was almost a relief to kill her, though I would have preferred her father’s money first. All she did was whimper and cry, calling for you to come for her. To forgive her. To save her.”

  Antoine met her gaze and she froze beside the knife. “He never did, by the way. Or at least, not until it was too late to matter.”

  Shame ate at BD for failing her. “You are a bastard.”

  “No.” Antoine growled, losing his semblance of calm. “No, you were the bastard, Marcel. The shameful stench our father never managed to wash off the bottom of his shoe. You ruined everything. Took everything. Your mother told Father about my…proclivities. You stole Isabel from me. You should have taken the money I offered and agreed to let me have her. You wouldn’t have had to die if you’d left without her. And I would have been free of you.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, BD saw Ben drag Bethany to safety. He owed the man. No matter what happened to him now, this time she lived.

  “You never understood, did you, Ant? Without her, there was no life for me.”

  The smaller man dove on him with nearly inhuman strength, throwing him against the corner of the small mausoleum that held the bodies of Isabel and her brother.

  Agony sent him crumpling to the ground. He pulled himself up to his knees in time for Antoine to kick him in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

  He was too weak like this.

  “I see you, spirit.” Michelle’s voice rang out strong and clear in the night. “I am bon ange, a guardian for souls, and I see you, and all those who dwell here.”

  Antoine’s eyes widened warily. “Bon ange? But you were just a little nothing. A weak-willed girl, craving security.”

  “She’s changed.” BD forced himself to his feet, grunting with the effort it took. “And she’s more than a match for what’s left of you. You look scared, little Ant. You should be.”

  Michelle moved in closer, Ben’s hand in hers as they both stared Antoine down. “The spirits that dwell here don’t appreciate you disrupting their home with your filth and darkness,” she said, looking magnificent as she embraced her power.

  “I see you.” Her voice swelled, echoing off the marble tombs. “Leave that body, or they’ll make sure you do, and you won’t like what they do with you, I promise.”

  “You can’t touch me.” But Antoine was backing away, stumbling, his face chalk white.

  She muttered something that BD couldn’t quite make out through the pain-induced roar of blood pounding in his ears. But he could see Antoine’s reaction.

  The man fell to the ground, rolling along the narrow walk and bouncing off the tombs as though he were being beaten. Had she truly sent the other spirits after him?

  Antoine held up his hands and screamed. “No. You can’t touch me. No one can touch me.” His body arched unnaturally before collapsing in a heap under the crumbling statue of a cherub.

  For a moment, no one moved.

  “He’s gone,” Michelle finally said in a voice that sounded hollow. “They tore him out of that poor man.”

  “Yeah,” Ben agreed, sounding shaken as he tugged her closer. “From what I saw, I doubt we’ll have to worry about him again.”

  It was over. He dropped to the ground again. It was finally over. She lived.

  “BD?”

  “Bethany.” She was kneeling by his side, tears streaming down her cheeks as she touched his face, her expression one of relief and wonder.

  “You remember?”

  “A little.” She nodded and shrugged at the same time. “I remembered him. I remember you. I remember loving you.”

  He lifted her onto his lap right there on the cold ground, rocking her as Rousseau and Ben helped the shaken and confused man out of the cemetery.

  Michelle glanced up at the sky, which was already starting to change with the predawn light. She turned somberly toward the couple on the ground. “There’s not long now. We’ll wait for her outside the gate and let you say goodbye.”

  BD looked away from Bethany long enough to smile up at Michelle. “You see, cher? I told you your gift would help people. You saved me. Saved us both.”

  “You saved me first, remember?” Her smile trembled. “I owed you one.”

  “Tell your babies about their skirt-chasing uncle, yes? Someday?”

  Michelle’s laughter was choked by a sob as she cupped her stomach protectively. “I’ll tell them. Marcel?”

  He nodded and she wiped her eyes, passing Allegra as she strode toward the gate with her head down.

  Allegra was openly crying as she knelt beside them and gave them both a hug, kissing BD’s cheek tenderly. “Thank you for coming to my wedding.”

  “Thank you for giving me that memory. I will treasure it always. And tell Rousseau I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll tell him.” She got up and ran on her strong, slender legs, heading, BD knew, for her new husband’s arms.

&n
bsp; Bethany held him tighter and he slid his hand beneath her chin, lifting her face up to the dim light. Everything else, everyone else disappeared. “I will treasure this day above all others, Blue Eyes. And never think it’s because I have you confused with another. It’s you. It will always be you.”

  “If I had the mambo call you, would you be able to come back to me?” Her voice was wavering, and he knew she was hanging on by a thread.

  He wished he could comfort her with false hope, but he’d promised he would never lie to her. “I want nothing more, but I don’t think it will work. This was my last day. The best day of both my lives.”

  “It isn’t fair.”

  “I have no regrets.” He caressed her face, his finger tracing the full curve of her upper lip. “I didn’t have to hold your dead body in my arms. Or your brother’s. It’s enough.”

  He remembered finding Emmanuel crying beside her. The little boy had followed her to the cemetery, trying to protect her from what he sensed was a trap, but he’d been far too young. He’d hidden until it was over, afraid to go for help. Unfortunately, neither of them had realized that Antoine and his helpers were still there, waiting for their moment to finish Marcel.

  “I wish I’d been able to save him, love. I tried, but I was injured. Gutted, knocked out and left for dead.”

  Bethany shook her head at the self-loathing in his voice. “You came for us. In my book, you’re our hero. Mine.”

  He held her close, pressing his forehead against hers and breathing in her scent. He wouldn’t pray for more than he’d gotten. But he wished. Wished to someday be given the chance to have a life with her at his side.

  The light was getting stronger and with it, a strange tingling in his limbs. He gripped her shoulders urgently. “Bethany, listen to me. I love you. I loved you then, as Isabel, and I love you now, more than I thought possible. With everything that I am, I love you. No matter where or when I am, I will be there loving you. Believe in that. Always.”

  She pressed her lips, salty and damp with tears, to his. She wouldn’t let go, even when he felt the tingles turn to ants, though this time there was no physical pain. But the ache inside was worse when he realized he’d faded from her sight.