Voodoo Love (And the Curse of Jean Lafitte’s Treasure)

by Victoria Richards

  This is what I dreamt about, what I'd longed for. And I never wanted it to end.

  "Elizabeth," he whispered. "You are so beautiful."

  I don't know what came over me, but it was that moment that I decided it was my turn to take control. I was La Sirene. I was in charge. I maneuvered myself so that I was on top of Juan, riding him, controlling the rhythm of our love play. His eyes widened at this turn of events, but he offered no objection. Instead, he grinned and ran his hand across my breast, lingering on my nipples. The pleasure of that only increased the arousal I already felt, and he smiled at feeling my body's wet response. I leaned over him, allowing his tongue to do an erotic dance across my breasts. He set my senses on fire, creating a delicious ache deep within me.

  It was too much. Juan pulled me close and then rolled us back over, ending my dominance over him. I didn't mind though. His breathing grew rough, the gentle rhythm of his thrusts faster, and with it, I could feel the delightful edge of orgasm approaching. It built and built as he plunged deep inside me, wiping away rational thought.

  When I climaxed, my eyes shut, and I let myself become lost in the waves of pleasure, only vaguely aware of soft feminine laughter.

  I hope Euralie wasn't watching us, I thought.

  "Are you okay, Elizabeth?" Juan's voice penetrated through the veil of bliss.

  "Umm…better than alright," I murmured.

  "Next time we'll take it slower."

  He rolled me over and spooned his body to mine. The sound of his breath in my ear soothed me, and I could feel myself drifting away.

  "Juan," I started to say.

  "Shhh…" he whispered.” Just rest now. We can talk more later."

  I wouldn't mind less talking and more of what we'd just done! Only I was too tired now to say that. Before I could get my thoughts out, I fell into the abyss of sleep.

  And into a dream.

  Euralie stood at the foot of the bed, her brown skin complimented by a white night gown that clung to her rounded curves. The points of her nipples pressed against the fabric and as she moved around the side of the bed, her dark braided hair swished in time to the rhythm of her hips. Somewhere far off, the drums were being played and they sounded like the rise and fall of a heartbeat. Slowly, slowly she lifted her arms as if dancing and her full lips curved into a smile.

  She was the embodiment of La Sirene.

  There was a man on the bed, silhouetted by the curtains that blew in a breeze from the open window. She approached him, her body dancing and gyrating with a message as ancient as the human race itself. One of her hands lifted to pull back the white curtain before she climbed into the bed. Snakelike, she crept up the body of the man whose face was hidden in the shadows. Her hands ran up his naked legs and up his chest before she straddled him.

  "My love," she whispered and then leaned in for a kiss.

  Eddie kissed her back.

  I jolted awake. I was alone in the bed and didn't know how much time had passed. It was still dark outside, but the candles had burned down low. For a moment, I panicked, afraid that something had happened to Juan while I was sleeping. But then the dream came back and so did Juan's words.

  His heart belongs to another.

  What the hell? Why was I dreaming about Euralie and Eddie? Could they have…

  I grabbed the robe from the floor and wrapped it around myself. I headed out of the room, in search of answers. Anger built inside me as I stomped through the empty house and out the front door.

  Euralie stood with her back to me, the fire still blazing in the chiminea. She stiffened a moment and then slowly turned to face me, the empty vodka bottle gripped in one of her hands. We stared at each other--she waiting for me to speak and me…well, just trying to find a coherent sentence that didn't begin with the word bitch.

  I admit that I am not always as articulate under pressure as I'd like to be.

  "You got something to say, Elizabeth Brown?" Her Cajun lilt irritated me. "Time to speak up is now."

  "You realize that Brown is my married name, right," I said. "My husband is Eddie Brown."

  "I know it well enough." She tilted her head and I thought there was coldness in her eyes. "What are you wanting to say to me, Mrs. Brown?"

  The way she emphasized the word Mrs. told me everything I needed to know, but still I pushed on.

  "How long have you been sleeping with my husband?"

  She threw her head back and laughed, the sound drifting into the air. "I've been sleeping with him for damn near three years. He was my man before he was ever your husband."

  Three years? That was before Eddie and I had even met. Before any of the stuff with Juan Carlos had happened.

  "How long have you been sleeping with the ghost you call Juan?" Euralie stepped towards me. "Or was tonight the first time?"

  "Shut up. That's none of your business."

  "But my sleeping with Eddie is yours?"

  "He's my husband."

  "In name only. Did you really think he was spending long weekends out fishing with his buddies all those times? No. He was in my arms!" Euralie's eyes filled with tears and she threw the bottle on the ground. "And now that's come to an end. That son of a bitch, Diego, finally got to him. All because of you!"

  Before I could respond, there was a low sound, like a horn being blown. It echoed around the swamp and the water erupted in large bubbles. The cypress trees swayed as a cold wind rustled through the branches, and the scent of mold and decay grew strong.

  "Now you done this, too," Euralie said, but her voice was quieter, resigned. "You done brought back the dead pirate and his crew."

  "Wh-what do you mean?" I stammered, unable to look away from the sight before me. The swamp was alive, but not with gators or snakes.

  Something else was rising to the surface.

  All at once, several men rose from beneath the surface of the water. Or at least they had once been men. Now they were…something else. Their clothes were worn and tattered, and unaffected by the dank swamp. Some of their outfits were from another time period, while others looked more modern. But it was their faces that stood out, struck fear in my heart, and even made Euralie suck in her breath.

  They were in various stages of decomposition.

  "What is this?" I asked backing away.

  But it wasn't Euralie's voice that answered. Instead, I heard a deep masculine voice with just a hint of a French accent.

  "That, mademoiselle, is my crew."

  A hand touched my shoulder and I looked down to see it. The scream crept up before I could stop it and it mingled with Euralie's soft laugh.

  There was nothing there but the thin and brittle bones of a skeleton. Unable to stop myself, I looked up to see who they belonged to. A man smiled down at me, and there was something so familiar about him that the second scream I had in my throat died.

  "That's right," he said with a nod and reached up to touch my chin with one of his bony fingers. "Now you've gotten the way of it. You know who I am. I may have been dead for over two hundred years, but I'm still a man to be reckoned with, Elizabeth Brown. We have business to attend to."

  Fear leapt into my throat, causing it to ache, and I stepped back. Oh, I recognized this man alright. I'd even shot at him before. Or at least his statue.

  It was the Gentleman Pirate, otherwise known as Jean Lafitte.

  Episode 4- Laveau's Lust

  "What's the matter, Cher?" Jean Lafitte smiled, revealing a gold tooth. "Don't tell me you're scared of me? Especially not after our last meeting?"

  "Last meeting?" My voice quavered with fear, and I hated the sound of it. But dammit! Dead pirate ghosts are not something I deal with every day.

  "Ah, now you're breaking my heart. And I thought we'd shared something meaningful," he said, waggling his bushy eyebrows in a way that was meant to be suggestive. If the situation hadn't been so tense, it might have made me laugh.

  "I’m sorry," I said. "I'm not sure what you are talking about."

  "Y
our spell worked too well." Lafitte turned to Euralie. "But then again, I expect nothing less from a voodoo priestess of my line."

  Euralie nodded but lowered her eyes.

  "Truly you are as talented as my own lovely Marie was." Lafitte lifted her chin. "You have her eyes."

  "I take that as a great compliment," Euralie said.

  "You are sad though."

  "Yes. My lover is lost to me because of this woman." Anger flashed in her eyes and I couldn't help but wince with guilt.

  Lafitte turned his attention back to me and shook his head.

  "Let's set everything right, again," he said. "Euralie, cast aside your grief and draw the circle."

  "But that will make us vulnerable. Diego could harm us while we are in it," she protested.

  "Why do you think I brought my crew?" Lafitte gestured to the corpses standing at the edge of the water. "They await my command and believe me, they know the consequence of not obeying."

  Consequence? What could you do to a corpse that would suck more than already being dead?

  As if hearing my thought, Lafitte said, "There are worse things than being dead, like being a member of the Deadman's Ferry. No one wants an extra hundred years added to their sentence."

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what the Deadman's Ferry was, but Lafitte was having none of it. With a wave of his hand, the corpses all turned their backs to us and stared out at the bayou. Their heads jerked and bobbed as they stood guard, reminding me of robots standing sentry in a science fiction movie.

  "Return her memory," Lafitte said to Euralie, "and give her the gift of insight about the past."

  "What do you mean return my memory? I hit my head a few years ago." I watched Euralie and Lafitte exchange a glance. Juan's words about having my memory erased for protection came back to me. And just where the hell was he anyway? I could have used his help right about then. "Tell me what really happened."

  "My apologies, mademoiselle. I don't mean to get ahead of myself. You see, you learned the name of the voodoo spirit to contact in order to lift the curse I placed on my treasure. It was written on the map, and Euralie gave it to you in that club two years ago. Problem is, I don't want anyone finding my treasure. Why else would I have placed a curse on it?" Lafitte's face flushed with anger. "It's mine."

  I sensed that Lafitte had trouble sharing his toys as a child and what use would a ghost have with treasure anyway?

  "If you go around telling people how to lift the curse, then there will be nothing left and no way for me to get more crew members for the Deadman's Ferry." He stepped towards me and I couldn't help but take a step back. "Removing the knowledge from your memory solved the problem."

  "Um…not really," I said. "Not being able to remember has been a real pain in the ass."

  "Oui. For me too, as it turns out." Lafitte chuckled. "I hadn't counted on true love and the constant pestering of Juan Carlos Montoya."

  "Where is Juan?"

  "I barred him from this meeting. This talk is meant to be between just you and me."

  "Please help me understand." I edged a step back, feeling uneasy. "Everyone is in on the joke but me."

  "Euralie?" Lafitte looked over at the voodoo priestess who nodded at him. "Start the incantation."

  Euralie chanted in a low voice, beating lightly on the tanbou drum. A breeze swung up and circled the area. The cypress trees swayed and the scent of jasmine drifted towards us. Light and sensual, it put me at ease.

  "Ah, there is the scent of mi amore, Marie," Lafitte said in a low voice. He walked towards me and as he did so, his face changed. The age fell away from his face and his skeletal hands were covered by skin. In fact, he was downright handsome with his long brown hair loose and free. True, he wasn't as sexy as Johnny Depp playing Jack Sparrow, but there was something about Lafitte, something about this pirate that even made my pulse race a little. He grinned, the impish action transforming him again, and I could see why women might have been drawn to this outgoing man. "You are a beauty, Elizabeth. This is going to be a pleasure."

  "What are you doing?" I asked as he stopped in front of me. I didn't quite trust the look in his eyes.

  He took my hand.

  "Sharing a memory with you." With that, Lafitte pulled me to him and planted a deep, kiss on my lips. Instinctively, I closed my eyes, vaguely aware that this was wrong, yet unable to stop myself from enjoying it too.

  Everything fell away and in my mind, little vignettes of the past whirled around me.

  *****

  She was in love with him. The handsome pirate with his French accent and twinkling eyes had stolen her heart. Perhaps it was the way he always seemed to know what mischief she had caused in the bustling town of New Orleans or maybe it was because he recognized her talent for gathering knowledge--whatever the case, Marie Laveau only knew that she was in love with the Gentleman Pirate Jean Lafitte.

  Gentleman Pirate! She scoffed at the nickname. He hadn't been such a gentleman last night in her bed, taking what he wanted and then some. On the other hand, she hadn't ever claimed to be chaste and pure like the silly ladies of society whose hair she arranged meticulously day after day. They would have been shocked by the erotic love play that went on nightly in the Laveau house. Even more shocking to them would have been the knowledge that Marie Laveau's husband, Jacques Paris, was actually Jean Lafitte in disguise. It was one thing to be married to a poor man, but a pirate? A thief? That was a whole other matter and would have slammed the door on Marie's aspirations. All the gossip, all the interesting little tidbits of information she gathered inside the walls of the white ladies homes would be gone and then where would she be?

  It made her mad just thinking about the hypocrisy of people. So many folks looked down their nose at her, seeing her as a pretty fortune teller, not the powerful priestess she knew she was destined to become. All those men with their wandering hands, lustful eyes, and heavy pockets would be shocked to know that the real reason she never became their mistress had nothing to do with her marriage vows. Lots of women in her station of life would have jumped at the many temptations thrown her way--with their husbands blessing, too. After all, there were babies to feed. These men offered her money, riches, all kinds of trinkets that would have pleased many a woman, but Marie didn't need those things.

  She and Jean were wealthy in their own right. They just had to be very careful about how they spent the money. No sense in calling attention to themselves. Showing up at the local merchant shops with gold to spend would definitely cause talk. Better to leave it in Barataria Bay, where it had remained since Andrew Jackson had forced Jean and his brother Pierre to leave Barataria at the request of the government.

  "No pirates in Louisiana territory with their illicit smuggling operations," Jackson had declared.

  Never mind all the help the Lafittes had given him in the Battle of New Orleans, defending the territory from the British. Never mind the boats, military intelligence, and man power that had been used to bring them a victory. Jackson was an important man now. There was talk of him even becoming President. He needed to clean up the rougher elements of Louisiana and that meant ousting his old "friend" Jean Lafitte.

  "Damn traitor, Andrew Jackson," Marie muttered out loud before she could help herself.

  "What was that?" The lady whose hair she had been putting into careful ringlets frowned.

  "Nothing, Miz Irene. You just relax and let me take care of your pretty hair." Marie chided herself for not paying attention to her work. "My mind done wandered a bit is all."

  "Thought I'd heard you mention Mr. Jackson," Miz Irene said. "A good man that one. My husband worked with him. Going to be a real important person someday. I hear he aims to go back into Barataria Bay and find all that contraband those filthy pirates left behind."

  "Is that so?" Marie kept her eyes on what she was doing, but she listened closely.

  "Oh yes. Rumor has it that there is untold treasure just waiting to be discovered out in those swamps. Je
welry, gold, rubies! Wouldn't I love to get my hands on that." Irene laughed. "Of course, they say it's cursed treasure. Are curses real, Marie?"

  Marie smiled. This is what the society women loved about her--the ability to spook and fascinate at the same time.

  "Yes ma'am. You best stay far from that bayou. Curses are everywhere. Did you know that there is a special tree shaped like a hook out there? I heard that a desperate woman, mad at her lover's betrayal over another woman cursed the tree so that any unmarried girl who passes beneath won't never marry." Marie thickened her accent, a mix of French and Haitian. "I meant to warn you 'bout this cause I know your daughter, Olivia, is supposed to be married out at the Myrtles plantation. That hook tree is right there on that property."

  Irene's face grew distressed. "Oh dear. Oh dear. You're right. I better warn Olivia. We've already sent out the invitations for the wedding."

  "Then you best be so careful. Tell Olivia not to walk under no trees."

  Marie smiled to herself, pleased with the turmoil she'd caused. There was no hook tree, but Marie found that society women for all their airs and fine educations, were always easily fooled.

  She reflected on what Irene had said about the treasure on the way home. Jean would not be happy about people searching for his wealth. If it was found, it would hurt the comfortable life style Marie had grown used to. Action must be taken.

  "Jean, we got problems," Marie said as she entered the small house on Ann Street. "We got to get to the bayou."

  "What is it, my love?" Jean looked up from the map he'd been examining. He was always studying ways to get in and out of the Gulf of Mexico without being seen by the Navy.

  "Miz Irene, the lady I just left, says that there is going to be a search in the bayou for left over pirate loot."

  Jean's eyes narrowed.

  "Did she? And who is searching for it?"

  "Andrew Jackson."

  "Damn!" Jean threw the map to the ground and stood up. "I don't want that little braggart touching my fortune."