Both Jolene and Nika exchanged a look. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Nika asked.
“You’ve spent enough time in Los Angeles to know exactly what that means. Hollywood is obsessed with appearance. Look at the problems other celebrities have endured under that kind of scrutiny. Who can forget how the media crucified Jessica Simpson when she tipped the scales.”
“Ari—”
“I’m sorry, love, but our industry is cold. You’re curvy now, and whether we agree with it or not, Los Angeles is an unforgiving place. Better to be in New York where the public isn’t as superficial.”
Annika chewed her lip. “I’m telling you now,” she paused, “I won’t starve myself to fit some industry mold. My talent has nothing to do with my dress size and if they don’t like it, too fucking bad.”
“Amen again, cher.” Her mother nodded.
Nika puffed out a resigned breath. “Okay, Ari. You win. What’s the name of this perfect venue?”
“The Red Veil.”
2
Annika hung up and walked into the kitchen. Her mother’s not-so-quiet inhale at the club’s name, not something she imagined.
Jolene’s face said it all. Her mother needed no explanation as to what the Red Veil was or who ran the place.
Avoiding her mother’s eyes, Nika took an apple from a bowl on the kitchen table and rubbed the red skin on her sweater before taking a bite.
“You know,” she said, chewing slowly. “It wasn’t easy growing up with a mother who could hear a pin drop in the swamp, let alone deal with her uncanny premonitions, but now I’m glad. What do you think, Mama? Do I go to New York or not?”
Jolene Lee put the phone receiver back in its cradle and then moved to stir the fragrant gumbo simmering on the stove. “My extraordinary talents kept you from plenty of trouble when you were little, not that you ever listened.”
“Mama, you didn’t answer my question.”
Her mother covered the cast iron pot before turning with the roux-stained wooden spoon in her hand.
“I don’t like it, Nika. Not one bit. Ariel Fischer has no clue about our kind or the supernatural in general, so she has no idea this Red Veil is a blood club. Vampires. For God’s sake!” She shook her head. “Plus, something else feels off about this and I can’t put my finger on it.”
Jolene lifted her forearm, holding it out to show her daughter. “Look at the hair on my arm. It’s all electric and standing tall. I’m never wrong when my body reacts like this. Something is brewing and it’s not the weather.”
She pointed her wooden spoon at her daughter. “Ariel’s jaw is hinged in the middle sometimes, and you know it. Her entire living is made off the talent of others and my gut tells me she has her own reasons for sending you to New York.”
“Of course she does, Mama. Ariel’s my agent. She’s doing this for me. For us.”
Jolene crossed her arms in front of her chest. “On the surface, yes, but Ariel is an opportunist. She’s not going out of her way if there’s no payoff. You heard her yourself. She planned this to coincide with that good-for-nothing LaFont boy’s trial. She’s had this up her sleeve just waiting for the right time. You better read the fine print on this one, cher.” Her mother looked at her. “Besides that, I’m not happy about this plan for other reasons. Reasons closer to home.”
Annika wiped her mouth on a napkin and then tossed it and the apple core into the trash. “Let me guess.”
“Don’t get fresh with me, bebe. Shifters and vampires do not belong together, and I forbid you to go.”
“Amen to that,” a deep voice interjected.
Both women turned.
“Guy, what a nice surprise,” Jolene’s lips spread into a genuine grin, and she smoothed her hair back from her face.
“Sheriff.” Annika nodded.
He took off his hat and walked to her mother’s side giving Jolene’s cheek an awkward peck. “Something smells amazing.”
Jolene blushed. “Go on with you.” She gave the man a playful shove, but her eyes sparkled at his double meaning. “Gumbo’s just about done. You know where the bowls are.”
“Who said I was talking about the stew?” He winked at Nika and opened the cupboard to the right of the sink and took out three bowls.
“So what brings you out our way, Sheriff?” Annika asked putting spoons and napkins on the table. The man was smitten with her mother, and she stifled a knowing grin.
“You mean besides your mother’s famous gumbo?” He grinned. “I came to check up on you, now that you ask. A little bird put a bug in my ear those pesky photographers were setting up house again, but I see you’re okay.”
He pursed his lips, his eyes soft and appreciative. “You look good, Nika. In fact, I haven’t seen you look this good in a long time. Healthy. I guess your mama’s cooking is doing the trick bringing you the rest of the way back from la-la land. I’m glad to see it. You’re as pretty as ever. Not that nervous skeleton that came home exhausted and terrified.”
Annika smirked. “You didn’t come all the way out to the swamp just to compliment me, Sheriff, much as I appreciate it. Have you heard something about Jesse’s case?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “The Los Angeles prosecutor’s office can have that miscreant. I’ve got trouble enough with the rest of his pack.”
“More camp break-ins, Guy?” Jolene asked.
“No. Some of the LaFont boys partied in the cemetery last night, and while I usually don’t bother with minor criminal mischief, this time graves were damaged. Some desecrated, and I won’t have that.”
Jolene made a face. “That family has been nothing but trouble for generations, right up to this nasty business with Jesse.” Jolene eyed Annika, shaking her head. “How many times did I warn you about that boy?” She sighed, letting her words trail off.
Nika looked away. Her mother was right. Guilt slashed at her chest for being so stupid and naïve. Jesse LaFont was the bad boy all her friends fantasized about.
From the cool, rebuilt motorcycle he rode with his cousins, to his tattoos, and of course his electric guitar, Jessie was drool worthy from one end of Terrebonne Parish to the other. The fact he could body double for Jax from Sons of Anarchy only added to the allure.
The memory stung and Nika winced.
“I hear you’re thinking about starting a band,” Nika’s voice cracked a little as she approached, but she played it cool.
Jesse nodded, his eyes giving her a quick once over. “Yeah, so?”
“Maybe I could sing for you sometime. I’m pretty good.”
He laughed, swinging his leg over the side of his Harley. “Drop some poundage, little cow. Then you can show me how ‘good’ you are. I might even let you sing, too.”
She cringed at how she’d starved herself for two months, anticipating the moment when he’d notice her for real. That time came quickly enough. He was sitting on his bike outside the Dairy Queen. It was a full moon, and every shifter in the parish was on the prowl. It didn’t take long for Jesse to spot her sleek new curves.
Things moved quickly from there, but his bad boy act got old, fast. Especially since the sex, like everything else, was always on his terms, and when he was done, that’s all she wrote. Problem was Jesse wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.
The boy wasn’t as dumb as everyone thought. Nika was his ticket out of the bayou, and he had staked his claim. Not in a formal shifter claiming and Annika exhaled knowing full well she dodged a bullet in that respect. No, Jesse’s claim was more proprietary. Nika was his, same as his guitar, and the two together were his path to success.
By the time the record company came sniffing around, Jesse was needy and jealous. He made it clear he’d see to it no one would want her if she ever left. He was never specific, but the veiled threat was real enough to scare.
Annika sighed, closing her eyes, and a pang of guilt bit into her gut. Everyone said no, but she knew Ki was dead because he tried to help.
As i
f reading the emotion on her face, Guy patted her hand, bringing her back from her memories. “Spilled milk, cher. Don’t let what happened buy real estate in your head. You’re home now. No more carrying on with that lot.”
“Why does everyone hate the LaFont pack so much?” Annika asked putting sliced French bread on the table. “Jesse is one thing. What he did is unforgiveable, but why the whole pack?”
Her mother put her wooden spoon on a damp dishcloth and leaned against the sink.
“It’s a long story, love. With roots that go back farther than anyone can remember, but most recently it has to do with Old Marie Bergeron.”
Nika’s brow knotted, confused. “The voodoo priestess? I thought she died years ago.”
Guy nodded. “She did. It’s got to be going on ten years now. She passed not long after her daughter committed suicide and her grandson ran off. That boy couldn’t have been more than seventeen.”
“You were only four or five at the time, Nika, so it’s no wonder you don’t recall,” her mother added.
Annika looked at them. “What has any of this got to do with Jesse?”
Jolene shrugged. “It doesn’t. Not directly, anyway. It has more to do with his people. You see, Old Marie was a formidable woman in these parts. Respected and feared. She knew the swamp as though its ebb and flow coursed through her veins. She was powerful. Much as she was admired, folks kept their distance.”
“And?” Nika prompted.
“Fabienne. Marie’s daughter. She didn’t want to be associated with anything that had to do with her mother. In fact, she did everything she could to separate herself from her Créole roots and her mama’s voodoo. She wanted to be somebody else. Anyone other than what she was. Sad really.”
Guy nodded in agreement. “If she lived, Fabienne would have been about your mama’s age. Back in the day, the girl ran around something fierce, and she had a particular fondness for the LaFont boys. No one could talk sense to her, though she was barely sixteen.
“You see, cher, Fabienne Bergeron was beautiful. Exotic. She had long black hair and eyes so dark they could pierce the soul. Tall and statuesque with smooth ivory skin.
“She turned heads wherever she went. Sadly, she ended up pregnant, and when Marie confronted old man LaFont, he refused to acknowledge the child as his blood.
“They never did figure which one of the LaFonts was the father, but even if the guilty party came forward, their grandfather would never permit the child to carry the family name.”
A disgusted sound left Jolene’s mouth. “They’re a bigoted bunch. In their eyes, Créole blood is slave blood. Same as if the last hundred fifty years of progress never occurred.”
“So what happened?” Nika asked.
Her mother shrugged. “Marie raised the boy as best she could. His mama was useless. Drunk most of the time. He learned everything he could from Marie. He took to the swamps and cypress forests like he was part of them, same as his grand-mére.
“He grew up wild, running with the deer and crawling with the gators. He was the best tracker in these parts, until the day he found his mother floating in one of the canals.
“Fabienne heard old man LaFont was dying, so she went to try and get him to acknowledge her son before it was too late, but he refused. She was laughed out of their camp. Humiliated. The boy found her drowned not too long afterward.”
Jolene paused. “His grand-mére went crazy. She swore vengeance, conjuring a dark, evil magic only hate and pain can summon. Marie Bergeron cursed the LaFonts with a powerful gris that robbed them of any peace, leaving their children to suffer loss and shame generation after generation.”
Nika looked at her mother. “What happened to the boy?”
“No one knows,” she replied with a shrug. “He hasn’t been back since, but rumors swirl each time something unexplained happens in the swamp. It’s said Marie gave him the key to dark magic.”
“Dark magic?”
Jolene nodded. “They say the voodoo priestess made him Rougarou.”
“Oh, come on. Seriously?” Nika’s mouth wore a dubious smirk. “A shifter with a human body and the head of a wolf? Please. That’s an insult to our kind.”
Her mother shook her head, annoyed. “That’s beneath you, Annika. The dual-natured are a part of the natural world, but to be Rougarou is black magic, a dark burden placed on someone’s soul.
“The beast craves blood and that means a constant struggle between light and dark for whoever bears the curse. Marie gave her grandson the dark power as vengeance on his father’s bloodline.”
Annika inhaled and let her breath out slowly. “Well, it doesn’t sound like much of a curse if he’s never been back, and considering the LaFonts were partying in the cemetery last night, it doesn’t sound like her curse is working on them either.”
“Oh, it’s working.” Her mother nodded. “Most of the adult LaFont men are either dead or in jail. Swaggering, puffed up pretty boys.”
“Pretty boys?” Nika questioned. “And why didn’t anyone tell me this before I went halfway across the country with Jesse?”
Jolene snorted. “As if you would have listened. That boy had you so bewitched I could have sprouted horns and played the blues and you wouldn’t have noticed. No surprise, though. What the LaFont’s didn’t get in character, they made up for in good looks. As mouthwatering as a juicy apple, that is until you take a bite and get a mouthful of brown mush and worms.”
“On that note, I think I’ll hit the road,” the Sherriff pushed his chair back, but her mother laughed, waving him back.
“Sit yourself back in that chair, Guy Fortinet.” She winked, lifting her hand to his cheek. “You have your own brand of charm and you know it.”
He cleared his throat, glancing toward the window and the arguing that started up again in the usually quiet marsh.
“Those photographers are multiplying like insects out there,” he redirected, craning to pinpoint their location in the tall cypress.. “Want me to run them out of the parish like I did the last time? I have no problem bending the law when it comes to protecting my own.”
Annika shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, Sherriff. They’ll leave as soon as I do.”
He turned his gaze to her. “The last time you left home you ended up in a heap of trouble and worried the pack sick, yet here you are planning to pack up again. Since I couldn’t help but hear the word vampire tossed around this kitchen, let’s just say my curiosity is more than a little piqued.”
“Curiosity killed the cat, Sheriff. Remember?”
“Don’t get fresh, young lady. Or have you forgotten it was Guy who saved our behinds the last time those pizzarrazos set up in the swamp.”
“Paparazzi,” Annika corrected.
Jolene raised one eyebrow.
“Sorry, Mama.” Her eyes flashed downward before looking up again. “And I’m sorry you had to hear Ariel’s suggestions on improving my love life. I’m surprised your ears aren’t bleeding.”
Her mother wiped her hands on a dishtowel, considering. “Bebe, do you think you’re the only one to feel the pull of the opposite sex? I may be older, but I still like the feel of an appreciative eye checking out more than my gumbo.”
“And trust me. Your mama’s got enough spice to turn any man’s head, especially mine.” Guy winked.
Jolene’s cheeks flushed, despite the small grin tugging at her lips. She cleared her throat, turning back toward the stove to give the gumbo one last stir. “That’s quite enough of that. We’re discussing Nika. You’re a pretty girl, cher. You should be sowing your wild oats.” She looked past her shoulder at her daughter. “Within reason.”
“Even at a vampire club in New York?” Nika’s teasing smile faded the moment she saw the look on her mother’s face.
“Running wild with your own kind is one thing, but mixing with the undead or even joking about it—” Jolene shook her head and hung the dishcloth neatly on the stove. When she looked up again, her jaw was set.<
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“That’s it,” she continued. “You’ll stay here where you belong. I won’t have you traipsing around a godless city where the undead are celebrated front and center.
“The pack will rally and keep the reporters away until this business with Jesse LaFont blows over like a temporary squall. You’ll settle into the bayou life you were born to and that’s that.”
Annika shook her head, knowing she was about to break her mother’s heart. “I can’t, Mama.”
“For heaven’s sake, why not?” she argued.
Nika looked at her mother’s worried face. “Because Ariel is right. I need to start over.”
“Why can’t you stay here and start over?” Jolene’s voice hitched.
Ready to reply, Annika set her jaw, but Guy got up from his seat with a chuckle, slipping his arm around Jolene’s waist.
“It’s no use, love. She’s pigheaded, just like her mama.” He took Jolene’s fingers and laced them with his own. “Nika’s made up her mind and nothing is going to change it.”
He tightened his grip, giving her a squeeze. “You raised a smart girl. After her dealings with the LaFont boy, Annika won’t forget who she is again. She’ll find her way home, even if it’s from New York.”
“But the vampires, Guy—”
He kissed Jolene’s temple, sparing a wink for Annika. “Nika can handle herself. Vampires aren’t the only ones with sharp fangs. My money’s on our bayou shifter to show them what’s what.”
Nika blew him a kiss, offering up a silent prayer he was right.
3
“What’ll it be, miss?”
Annika looked at the handwritten menu tacked to the side of the coffee truck. “I’m not sure. What’s good?”
“Lady, it’s all good. We got people waiting. What’ll it be?”
The Red Veil Diaries (Volumes 1-4) Page 17
