Dark Confessions

by Angie Sandro

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” She goes quiet. Silence stretches between us, and I don’t know how to break it. My surprise over opening up unnerves me. I didn’t mean to tell her about my mother. The memory of her death is the one thing I’ve never spoken about to anyone. Not even to my children.

  The SUV’s tires slam into a pothole in the unpaved road. Ivy lets out a low whimper. I twist around to find my daughter stretched across the seat with her head on Dena’s lap. My gut clenches as I catalogue the damage the witch did to her physical shell. Dark circles ring her closed eyes. Her high cheekbones appear sunken, and dried blood flakes her nostrils.

  Ever since she was a baby, I’ve shared her pain. It was more than the sympathetic ache a parent feels when their child suffers. Ivy’s an empath. Not only does she feel and take on the emotions of others, but she also projects. She’d initiated contact with the other mind and, as a result, took the most damage. She’s suffering ten times more than I am.

  I don’t have that kind of power. Over time I’ve learned how to catch emotions. If the other mind is strong, I can occasionally read their broadcasted thoughts. Ivy’s even stronger. She’d been trained by her mother, her grandmother Sophia—and the hoodoo queen herself, Magnolia. Ivy has honed her powers over the course of her life. I’d protested against a toddler being apprenticed to the devil, but the women didn’t feel my opinion worthy of consideration.

  Ivy’s empathic nature holds a well of compassion for the pain of others, which she feels on an almost spiritual level. The bleedover makes her emotionally unstable. Erratic. Powerful. It’s at times like these when I wish I would’ve fought harder to save Ivy and her brother, Bastian, from this life.

  My baby’s eyes flutter, then open. “Stop with the guilty recriminations, Dad. I’m a grown woman, and I made my choice long ago.” She pinches her nostrils, wiping away dried blood, then shakes Dena awake.

  Yawning, Dena squints at her. “What? Are we there yet?”

  Ivy holds up her hand and wiggles her fingers. “My head’s killing me. A little help sitting up, please.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You look like one of those skeleton-faced voodoo dolls.”

  “Hey!” Her lips draw down in a teasing pout. “What happened to sisterhood solidarity? Never tell another woman she looks like shit.”

  Dena sniffs. “I didn’t say shit.”

  “It was implied.”

  “No. I said what I meant. To clarify and avoid further confusion, I’d say you look like death warmed over. Except that would be an insult to Death.” She shoves her hands beneath Ivy’s armpits and lifts her upright as easily as she would a child. “’Sides, if you’re Ferdinand’s daughter, you should be thick-skinned enough to withstand anything I dish out.”

  Ivy dips her head. “True.” She turns to stare out the rear window. There’s not a whole lot to see except old-growth forest. “What happened while I was knocked out? Where are we?”

  “We’re at the point of no return,” Elizabeth says. In the wake of our silence, she pulls off the road onto a narrow track and parks. Thick bushes hide the SUV from the road. “The ground gets soggy ahead. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”

  The transport van pulls up behind us.

  Dena throws open her door. “I’m going to see Anders.”

  “I’m sure he’s managed to survive your short separation.” Elizabeth rolls her twinkling eyes in my direction. I hide my grin behind my hand.

  “Oh, ha-ha. You’re so amusing, Lieutenant Caine. It’s been a rough week, and I almost lost him. Forgive me for wanting to spend the few hours we have—not running for our lives—with him.” She slams the door and stalks off.

  “She could’ve at least waited until I got out,” Ivy mutters, stepping out of the car. A squelch fills the air, and she lets out a little shriek. “Ugh, mud. And mosquitoes. This will be tons of fun. At least I wore the right boots for this adventure.” The door slams again.

  Elizabeth shakes her head. “Tons of fun.”

  She turns to exit the vehicle, but I grab her elbow. She stiffens at my touch, but doesn’t pull away. I want to believe she’s finally softening toward me, that she feels the connection growing between us as strongly as I do, even though nothing on her face shows any sign of this. Nor does her brisk tone as she asks, “Is something wrong?”

  My heart races as I forge ahead anyway. “I wanted to say, merci. Thanks for worrying…” The rise and fall of her beautiful breasts pauses mid-breath. Her eyebrows snap together, and I backpedal before I scare her. “About Ivy.”

  “Oh.” She breathes out the word. “She’s your daughter. Of course I’d worry.”

  “I thought you hated me.”

  Elizabeth’s dark eyelashes lower to hide her eyes. “The drive gave me time to think. Everyone keeps saying to give you the benefit of the doubt. That I misunderstood your actions. Hell, even what you said earlier about not giving you a chance to explain is true. I didn’t…couldn’t…” Her lips purse, as if she sucks on a lemon. Her breath releases in a huff. “I’m an idiot. This shouldn’t be so hard to admit…”

  My heart races. “Admit what?”

  Her eyelashes lift, and I’m struck by the full force of her gaze. “That maybe I was wrong.”

  Warmth floods every inch of my body. My fingers tremble as they slide down her arm. I grasp her hand and stare into her wide eyes, searching these windows into her soul. I read nothing but truth, sincerity, and possibly, something more…hope, which echoes what I feel for her.

  I slowly bring her hand to my lips. “Thank you.”

  Her fingers clench around mine when I press a kiss to her knuckles. “Don’t thank me yet,” she says. “Or think a few kisses in apology serve as absolution. You’re responsible for the misunderstanding between us. A relationship can’t be built on a pyramid of lies and half-truths. Until you’re able to be completely honest with me, I can’t trust you.” Her voice grows husky. “You put me through hell. Long nights of unfulfilled sexual fantasies and self-condemnation for desiring someone I thought betrayed everyone I love. Mr. Lafitte, if you’re serious…If what Ivy said about you loving me is true…prove it.” Her tongue wets her lower lips. “I dare you.”

  Her scent…God, she smells like honey and vanilla. I tug on her hand, and she falls forward with a gasp. Her free hand lands on my thigh. If it had landed a few inches to the left, she’d feel exactly how excited I am for this chance to make things right.

  I lean toward her, slowly. Part of me wants to give her time to escape, in case she changes her mind. The other part wants to savor the anticipation of kissing her again. “I accept your challenge.”

  The tip of her tongue darts out again.

  With a groan, I cave to temptation. Our lips brush once, twice. Her lips part, and I meet her tongue with my own. She’s delicious.

  “Jeez, save it for later!” The shock in the voice from the backseat breaks us apart, like guilty teens caught making out beneath the football bleachers. The top of Elizabeth’s head knocks the underside of my chin, and I bite my tongue. At least I didn’t bite hers.

  Warm, coppery blood fills my mouth. “The hell?” How did we forget…? “Landry!”

  He sits up, scrubbing his fingers through unruly black locks, and adjusts his skewed eye patch. “Are we at the safe house?”

  “Not yet,” Elizabeth blurts out, and practically dives through the door in her attempt to escape.

  The weight of Landry’s glare follows me outside. I’m grateful he doesn’t call me out on my bullshit. How could I tell her I’ll be honest about what’s happening when I can’t speak the truth without choking to death? Why get both of our hopes up? Nothing about my situation has changed. Only Mala can break the blood bond holding me silent. Until she’s been rescued, I need to keep my distance from Elizabeth or risk more lies destroying the progress I’ve made toward redemption.

  My boots sink into the muddy earth, and I scan the area. Landry stalks over to the others gat
hered beside the transport van. He leans down and whispers in Dena’s ear. She shoots a startled grimace at Bessie, then scowls at me.

  Anders and George have released Estrada from the confines of the van. The doctor stands between them, unshackled, rubbing his wrists. An expression of dissatisfaction scrunches his beetle-like face. He shifts from side to side. Antsy. You don’t need to be a mind reader to tell the man’s not happy, but what can he do? Run?

  “Try it, Estrada,” I taunt him. “Go ahead. I’ll even give you a head start. Gators love fresh meat.”

  He brushes imaginary dirt off the shoulder of his lab coat. Smarmy bastard. “I promised to cooperate if I had protection, Mr. Lafitte. Don’t forget the lives of two women depend on my survival. Surely you’d wrestle an alligator to save them?”

  Elizabeth crosses her arms. “Stop antagonizing the man.”

  Is she talking to me or Estrada? I guess it doesn’t matter. He seems unaffected, as much of an a-hole as ever. Venting my frustration onto him only makes me look like a dick. Landry pissed me off with his silent condemnation. Estrada’s smug grin only irritates me more. I want to wipe it off his face with the heel of my boot, but I can’t do anything until we locate Mala and Eva. He’s right. I would fight a gator to save them from Victor, even if I have to rescue Estrada first to do it.

  And judging by everyone’s disgusted expressions, they’d do the same.

  Dappled sunlight barely penetrates the canopy of leaves overhead, but even filtered, the light burns my eyes. My headache has lessened to a single throb that pulses with each beat of my heart, but pain always makes me cranky. I need a full night of sleep or a good fuck. Preferably both.

  I inhale, drawing in the scents from my surroundings. The strongest odor comes from the bayou itself, brackish water and decaying plants, sheltering hidden pockets of life. The air hums with energy, making the hairs on my arms stand at attention. If I were to cross-section this area on GPS, I wonder if it correlates with the ley line crossing the cemetery. “Bess, is Bayou du Sang nearby?”

  “Yes. We’re on its eastern branch.”

  “Ah.” So much magic in the area. This will amplify the power of any spells cast here. “How far to the safe house?”

  “It’s a hike through the woods to the dock. The caretaker left a fan boat for us. We’re going to an island in the middle of the swamp. We’ll be safe.”

  I keep my lips sealed, not wanting to burst her happy bubble. If the woman who follows is as strong as I suspect, she’ll be able to pull off a simple tracking spell. Ivy and I will have to move fast once we reach the safe house to lay down a circle of protection. Glad I thought to plan ahead, I dig the emergency bag from the SUV and sling the strap over my shoulder. The day Ivy got her new ride, I packed all of the ingredients she’d need to cast a spell in the trunk, along with a toolbox, jack, jumper cables, and a spare tire. I’d be a shitty father if I let my baby girl venture out into the world with no protection.

  The crackle of traffic from multiple radios breaks the silence of the forest. Amplified screams fill the air. Voices yell over one another, over the dispatcher, who tries to get someone to tell her what’s happening.

  Elizabeth clicks her mike. “S-one, report. Report.”

  “Oh God. Shit!” A gunshot. Followed by a scream, then, “Officer down. Officer down. Dispatch, send backup.”

  Dixie’s calm voice echoes, “Officer down. All available units respond.”

  Elizabeth holds the radio out, but stares into space. “That was Deputy Kyle.”

  “The deputy who got choked out by Victor?” Dena asks. “I thought he was still hospitalized?”

  “He got discharged. He shouldn’t even be on duty, but I saw him at the roadblock.” She falls silent when the mike clicks. We strain to hear a voice. Rapid breathing and pounding footsteps reverberate through the line, like someone runs in a blind panic.

  The panting changes to high-pitched whimpers. “No! Please. Don’t—”

  Then a pop, pop of gunshots.

  Elizabeth stiffens with a groan. “They’re killing them. I’m not there.” Her eyes glaze as if imagining the scene in her head. I catch her when she takes a step and trips. I hug her tight to my side. She trembles in my arms, and I want to scoop her up and carry her away from this madness. Instead, I stand as a solid rock of support until she regains the strength to shove me away. She looks to George and Anders. “They’re killing our people. We’ve got to stop them.”

  “We don’t know for sure, LT,” George says, but his face has lost all color. Ivy rocks toward him. The fear being transmitted must be overwhelming for her.

  A hush falls across the group. No one moves, or even breathes, as we strain for the tiniest of sounds from the radio.

  The mike clicks.

  Sergeant Ross’s high-pitched scream fills the air. “They’re coming! They’re coming, Bessie. Run!”

  CHAPTER 7

  Bessie

  No Way Out

  Static crosses the distance between my people and us. Then all hell breaks loose from responding officers from allied agencies. My breath comes in rapid bursts, and pressure builds behind my ears. More gunshots ring in my head, only these aren’t real. They’re the memory of the shots that killed my husband. We didn’t work the same beat. I’d been at the station, taking paper on a credit card scam. I always paid attention when he went to hot calls, and I’d waited to hear him report a Code 4, everything’s safe. Only it didn’t come. Gunshots rang out instead. His voice, growing weaker, crying my name, over and over.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, hearing his voice. It mingles with those of my officers. They’re screaming, dying, like he did.

  Snap out of it. I remind myself to breathe. Oxygen blows away the fear clouding my thoughts upon hearing my men’s screams, and my resolve hardens. They’re my responsibility. I won’t leave them to fend for themselves.

  I’m halfway back inside the SUV when Anders grabs my arm. “There’s nothing you can do,” he says.

  I wrench on my arm, ready to put him on the ground, but he releases me. “I can’t leave them—”

  “He’s right, Bess.” Ferdinand lays his hand on my shoulder. “We’re an hour’s drive from the blockade. And if what your sergeant said is true, you don’t have to go back. Those killers are already coming for us. Think about the stakes: Dena, Ivy, Landry, they’re civilians. Isn’t it your duty to protect them?”

  Helpless rage makes me sputter. “Y-yes, I—” My hands ball into fists as I stare at the faces surrounding me. Faces filled with horror, but what’s worse are the pictures of carnage and death raging through my mind. “It’s my fault. My order. I can’t do nothing.”

  “Get these people to safety. Then we’ll take care of the ones following. I promise.” Ferdinand looks to Anders. “Death’s on our side.”

  What the hell does he mean by that? I choke back a curse. My hands won’t unclench. I want to fight. I need to release the coiled tension building inside before I explode. Sergeant Ross told me to run. I don’t like it, but that’s what we’ll do. “Let’s get moving, people! Double time.”

  Adrenaline kicks in. I lead the way through the forest, along a thin deer trail through wild ferns and tangled brush. Oak trees stretch their branches overhead, sheltering us from the sun, but the humidity is thick enough to wear. Mosquitoes breed in the wet puddles and are drawn to us in a mighty, biting horde. We slap at the buzzing cloud of insects and snap at each other to keep moving, but we’re only as fast as our slowest members.

  Estrada and Ivy slow the pace. Estrada whines about being tired. Guess he spent too much time in his evil lab concocting his plan for world domination rather than exercising. Ivy, the poor girl, can barely run in a straight line. She hasn’t fully recovered from the mental beating she took in the car.

  We’ve gone only a few miles before stumbling to a halt at a fork in the trail. It’s been years since I came out here, and hell if I know which path leads to the boat launch. Damn, why doesn’t anything l
ook familiar? I double over, pressing my fist against the stitch in my side. My breath comes in heavy gasps, but it’s nothing compared to my companion’s reaction.

  Ivy collapses against a tree. She clutches her head and rocks back and forth. “No! Get out of my head!”

  Ferdinand and George crouch beside her.

  “What’s wrong with her?” George asks. “Is she sick?”

  “She’s under a psychic attack.” Ferdinand places the tips of his fingers against his daughter’s temples and closes his eyes. “It’s the witch. She’s going after Ivy, trying to break her mind so she can’t sense her.”

  My heartbeats, which had almost returned to normal, kick up again. “Does this mean they’re close?”

  Ferdinand’s eyes open, and his bleak gaze sends a shiver down my spine. He doesn’t need to speak for me to know how screwed we are. They’re moving faster than we can, and with Ivy incapacitated, we’ll move even slower. “What do we do? Fight?”

  “Put distance between us and them.” He looks at George. “Can you carry her?”

  George frowns. He slides one hand behind Ivy’s back and the other beneath her legs and lifts. His lips brush her ear as he whispers. “Hold on to me?”

  Ivy shudders, but her arms creep up to wrap around his neck. She presses her tearstained face into his shoulder. George cradles her against his chest, and his face softens with unexpected tenderness. A fierce, protective light brightens his bottle-green eyes to emerald fire.

  I glance at Ferdinand to gauge his reaction to the growing attraction I sense between George and Ivy. He doesn’t seem to notice. Frown lines etch themselves into his ebony forehead. When he tries to rise, he staggers and falls against the tree.

  My arm wraps around his waist before I think about moving. “Lean on me.”

  He gives a pained smile. “Three beautiful words.”

  Landry glares at the forked path. “Mala needs us alive to rescue her, so let’s get moving. Which way do we go?”

  I bite my lip. Two trails lie before me. One leads to salvation. The other, possibly to death. Why did I come up with this shitty plan? Hell, a better question: Why didn’t I bring a fucking map?