Dark Confessions

by Angie Sandro

  My arrogance will be the death of us all.

  Wind kicks up, blowing the odor of rotting fish from the right-hand path. Is that the way to the dock? Come on, Bess. Make a decision.

  My arm tightens around Ferdinand. “I can’t remember which way to go,” I confess in a whisper. “I’m not sure.”

  “Follow your instincts,” he says. “I trust you.”

  “Oh!” Ivy bucks in George’s arms. He grips her tight. “They’ve reached the cars.”

  “Right!” I yell, waving everyone forward. “Go right. Don’t stop until you reach the boat.”

  Anders shoves Estrada into Landry’s arms. “Keep an eye on the doc. Make sure he doesn’t escape.”

  “What about you?” Landry yells, already dragging Estrada by the arm down the right-hand path.

  “I’m staying with Lieutenant Caine. Dena—”

  “I’ll protect them,” she says, cracking her knuckles. “Alonso knows what I’m capable of.” Her glare shifts to the man. “Tell them you won’t try anything funny. That you’ll behave and make for the boat.”

  “I’m not crazy. I became a doctor because I abhor death. Especially my own.” Estrada flashes us a smile, laughing at his own joke, then follows George and Ivy.

  Dena wraps her arms around Anders, pressing her face into his chest. “Come back to me.”

  “Always,” Anders says, then heads toward a small grove of trees between the forks in the road.

  Ferdinand watches their parting with an air of sadness, which echoes my own. I can’t let this be their last embrace. They just found each other. My heart aches for them.

  Ferdinand brushes my cheek with the tips of his fingers, then holds out his hand. “Got another gun?”

  I pull my spare revolver from the ankle holster and pass it and extra ammo over. “This isn’t your fight. It never has been.”

  “Chérie doux…”The inflection in his voice makes sweet honey sound like sweet idiot. “Let’s find a place to set the ambush. It’s too exposed here. We need cover.”

  Ferdinand and I crouch behind a fallen log on the right side of the path.

  “How far away do you think they are now?” I ask.

  “Not much longer.” His arm presses against my shoulder, spreading warmth through my body. The fear I felt earlier melts. He glances down. “Bess…”

  “Y-yes?” What if this is our last moment? The only opportunity we’ll ever have to tell the other how we really feel. Nothing in life is guaranteed. “Tell me.”

  Ferdinand’s full lips tighten. He’s in full-on retreat mode. I’ve shot him down too many times. Now he’s afraid of my reaction.

  Shit! It has to be me. “If we survive, I’m willing to give it a shot. Try to have a relationship. Maybe there are things you can’t tell me right now. Maybe you have a good reason for your secrets.” I shake my head. “That’s not important anymore. I don’t want to lose you without trying to understand.”

  “I want to tell you everything. I c-c—” He gags and clutches his throat. His mouth opens and closes.

  He’s choking. “Talk to me!”

  He closes his eyes. His face has a purple undertone from lack of oxygen. He falls to his knees. “Ferdinand!” Movement comes from the grove where Anders hid. His head peeps from behind a tree trunk, and he stabs his finger toward the path. “Crap! They’re coming.”

  Ferdinand grips my elbow. He’s gasping, which means he’s breathing. At least for now. He’s barely conscious, but he tries to sit up. I shove his head back below the log before his beautiful brain gets splattered all over me. Damn it. We’re worse off than ducks floating in a pond. Easy freaking targets.

  Ferdinand rubs his throat with a shaking hand. He wheezes, but still picks up the extra gun from the ground. “I’m okay.”

  Liar. “The bad guys are here.” Only I don’t see them. It’s a sensation of being watched. A gut feeling in the pit of my stomach. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I sense the coming storm.

  “Anders, help!” I yell.

  Anders sprints toward our position, totally out in the open. A volley of gunshots fill the air. I open fire in the direction it comes from to give him cover. I still don’t see the assailants. They must have found cover. Hell! I never should’ve called Anders over. He dodges between trees. Another shot comes from a dogwood to the left. The glint of metal comes from the lower edge of the trunk. A head leans around the tree. I aim, then slowly squeeze the trigger.

  A scream answers. Not good. I flubbed the headshot. It must’ve grazed him.

  The crack of breaking branches draws my attention to the right. Anders dives over the log, then scrambles to crouch at my side. “What happened to the plan?”

  “Ferdinand’s having some sort of an asthma attack.”

  Ferdinand waves away the flash of concern in Anders’s eyes. “I’ll be okay. Just shaky.”

  Anders brushes sweat-drenched hair from his eyes with the back of his hand. His eyes glow with the weird fluorescence they held in the observation room. “I’ll cover you. Get to the boat.”

  Ferdinand shakes his head. “No. I can fight.” His gun hand trembles. “Okay, maybe I might accidently shoot the two of you instead.”

  Anders pivots on his heels. “Look, I’m gonna try something. And I’m not sure if I can control…this thing I can do, uh, become. If you stay, I’ll be too scared you’ll get hurt to fully let go. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” Ferdinand says at the same time I say, “Hell no.”

  A man dressed in green camo sprints between two trees in the distance, and I let off two rounds. He ducks behind a trunk. For now he’s trapped. If he moves, he’ll be exposed. My eyes don’t leave the tree as I ask, “Does this have something to do with those men who burned? Some kind of ability?”

  “Yeah. I just found out about it today. It’s just as likely to strike at you as the bad guys, though. Please. Leave.”

  Ferdinand rises to his knees. He claps a hand on Anders’s shoulder. “Release the darkness but maintain your sense of self. Focus on something important. It will ground you to the present.”

  Anders nods. He seems more frightened of himself than the assassins. “If I don’t make it to the boat, leave without me. Remember, I can’t die. At least not for long.” Ferdinand moves to go, but Anders stops him. “Tell Dena I love her. Don’t let her come back for me.”

  Ferdinand snorts. “As if I’m strong enough to stop her.”

  “True.”

  I nod to Anders. “Don’t be a hero, Detective. If you can, run like hell. I don’t like this leaving a man behind.”

  I don’t know if Anders hears me. I don’t think it’s even Anders looking through the glowing green eyes anymore. Ferdinand called it “darkness,” and I don’t think it’s human.

  Anders’s gaze shifts to the woods. The black shadow I saw on his hand earlier spreads across his whole body—a thick, inky darkness without color but still with form. It slides off his body, like a snake shedding its skin. Humanoid shaped, it floats above the log long enough for me to wonder if it’ll attack. Then it raises a hand and waves good-bye.

  My hand lifts to wave back before I realize how stupid I’m being. Oh, my God! I’ve descended into madness. Flat-out crazy. “Ferdinand—”

  He grabs my arm and tugs. We crawl to the edge of the rotting log and peek around it. The shadow skims across the earth, a black mist bringing death in its wake. Whatever it touches blackens and burns. Smoke fills the air.

  Distracted by the cloud of doom hunting him, the man behind the tree screams bloody murder and runs into the clearing. A gunshot comes from Anders, and the man falls to the ground. Another scream comes from behind a bush. Its high, piercing echo sends terror through me.

  Ferdinand pulls me upright. “Run while they’re distracted.”

  I light out like a ball of fire’s aimed at my backside. Footsteps fall in behind us. I look over my shoulder and catch Anders almost on my heels. He sends cover fire into the woods. “Hu
rry!” he yells.

  He doesn’t need to tell me twice.

  We race down the path. Ferdinand stumbles over a root, almost taking us both to the ground. My arms wheel to keep my balance. Hands appear out of nowhere. “Dena?”

  She shoves me toward a break in the tree line. “The boat’s not far.”

  Dena squats next to Ferdinand and wraps his arm around her shoulder. With a heave, she has him on his feet. When she sees me standing there, she scowls. “Move!”

  Gunshots come from beyond a birch to my left. I crouch and pivot, squeezing the trigger. The barrel clicks, empty. “Shit. I’m out.”

  “What do we do?” Dena asks.

  Ferdinand digs into his pocket and tosses over the extra clip I gave him earlier. “Take him out.”

  I grin. “My pleasure.”

  Smart bastard went high. I study the tree, but I can’t see anything except leaves. I fire a burst. Nothing. Is he really up there? What if he’s flanking us?

  The tree begins to smoke. Leaves blacken and wither as the shadow passes. A soldier drops from a branch, firing wildly into the canopy, as if bullets can stop whatever Anders released. I put a bullet behind his ear.

  Yelling comes from ahead. Landry waves at us from the driver’s seat of the flat-bottomed airboat. The giant fan spins, ready to shoot us across the bayou once we’re all aboard. George runs across the wooden dock to crouch behind a post. He lays cover fire into the trees while we slog in slow motion, our backs exposed, through ankle-deep mud.

  “Hurry!” He waves for us to pass. Like I need him to tell me to get my ass to husslin’. We took out quite a few of the assassins, but I’m not sure how many more still lurk in the woods. How many survived. The witch continues her psychic attack on Ivy. I can tell by the girl’s agonized fetal position.

  Anders races out of the woods and helps Dena practically throw Ferdinand into the boat. Then he grabs my arm, heaving me over the side. George makes to leap over the edge. A gunshot rings out. He screams, his back arching and his arms opening wide as he tumbles into the boat.

  I stare in horror at a red rose blooming on the back of his uniform shirt.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ferdinand

  Time-Out

  Landry sits high on the single platform seat. Following Bessie’s directions through the bayou, he steers the flat-bottomed boat around thick roots of bald cypress arching from the water. The rest of us huddle on the deck in silence, like traumatized refugees fleeing the horrors of war.

  Tension tightens the muscles in my shoulders, and I grip the side of the boat so hard the fingers in my right hand go numb. Cold sweat trickles down my spine as the faces of people I haven’t thought about in years flash before my eyes. I’m trapped in the past, reliving the memories of the ocean crossing from Haiti to the United States. Fifteen people paid to entrust their lives to the captain of a small fishing boat. Eight passengers lost their lives when the boat capsized within sight of Miami Beach, including my mother.

  One boat ride through the swamp, thirty years later, is all it takes to transform me into a scared kid again. Is it any wonder it feels like my skin’s trying to crawl off my bones? With my free hand, I hug Elizabeth against my side, terrified that if I let her go, she’ll slip beneath the surface. I hate boats.

  A twisted tupelo tree blooms with starburst-shaped white flowers. Its beauty reminds me to remain in the present, not the past. I focus on Elizabeth’s profile as she rests her head on my shoulder—and try not to look at George, who lies on his stomach, with his head on Ivy’s lap.

  Estrada and Dena use supplies from a first aid kit found in the boat to stanch his bleeding. The doc assured us his injury wasn’t lethal, but the bullet lodged in his shoulder. He needs surgery to remove it. Instead, he has Estrada digging it out with a pocketknife and pliers.

  At least the screaming stops when George passes out.

  Guilt curdles my insides. He never would’ve gotten injured if I hadn’t tried to confess everything to Elizabeth. We had a plan, but instead of focusing on ambushing the assassins, I let my feelings take center stage. I opened my mouth to tell her what she wanted, no needed, to hear. In case things went bad for one of us, I wanted her to know how I feel. Stupid me.

  I forgot about the blood bond. About the fact I’d sold my freedom. That I don’t own my soul. The reminder lingers. My throat and lungs still burn. Suffocating. Fuck. I’d rather die from a bullet between my eyes.

  Elizabeth rubs her cheek against my shoulder, making me think of a cat marking its territory. And not an ordinary house cat either. My lioness. A smile tugs at my lips. I trail my fingers up and down her arm in soothing strokes, as much to calm myself as her.

  Across from us, Dena packs the bandage to George’s wound while Estrada binds it. The whole time, her worried gaze continues to return to Anders. He’s not right yet. Emptiness hollows his eyes. He made a conscious decision to release the darkness within while maintaining his sense of self. Death went forth to fight for us. It still hasn’t returned.

  Elizabeth suddenly sits upright and points toward a fork in the bayou. “Landry!”

  “I see it,” he shouts.

  Wind and spray blow in our faces, cooling us. The bayou opens into a bald-cypress-dotted lake, and in the center of the watery forest sits an island.

  “A hundred years ago this lake wasn’t here,” Elizabeth yells. “The Caine plantation sat on the banks of Bayou du Sang, but over the years, the water level has risen, eroding the land. In another fifty years, this will all be underwater. A piece of history will drown.”

  “Some things need to die.” Landry scowls at the island as if offended by its very existence. “I’m not sure ’bout this place.”

  Elizabeth darts a quick look in his direction. “What does that mean?”

  “Don’t you feel it?” He glances at us. “Any of you? It’s so strong.”

  The island sits before us like a spider drawing us into its funneled web. Thick trees, their branches spun with threadlike, gray Spanish moss, block the rays of the setting sun. Undergrowth flourishes in riotous tangles of vines and giant ferns. The only area cleared of brush surrounds the boat dock and a narrow, dark path through the woods.

  My arm tightens around Elizabeth’s shoulders. “I feel it.”

  “So do I.” Ivy’s voice quivers. “Bad things…No, terrible things happened there. Will happen there again. Darkness seeped into the soil and tainted the land. It’s haunted.”

  Landry rubs a finger across his eye patch. “Great. Just what I need. More ghosts.”

  He slows our speed to a crawl to navigate through the water lilies and floating bladderwort. Ivy’s grandmother Sophia taught botany at the university in New Orleans before she crossed over. She always railed about water hyacinth and giant Salvinia taking over the bayou, but I haven’t seen any of those invasive aquatic species. This pristine environment would probably seem like a tiny slice of heaven to her. It’s a shame she can’t be here.

  Elizabeth rests her hand on my chest. “We’ll be safe soon.”

  I lay my hand on top of hers, holding it against my heart. “I know.”

  She yawns. “I’m fighting to stay awake.”

  “No point in drifting off now.” I press a kiss to the top of her head, then whisper in her ear, “Tonight we’ll sleep in a bed, or find other uses for it, if you prefer.”

  Elizabeth gives a shocked gasp. “Mr. Lafitte, are you propositioning me?”

  My lips twitch as I try not to laugh at her scandalized expression. She doesn’t fool me one little bit. “Would you say yes if I were?” I trace the length of her spine, then slip my hand down the waistband of her fitted pants. She lets out a low moan when I massage the curved cheek of her juicy, apple-bottomed ass. I wish I could take a bite out of her. That would teach her to play games.

  I give her a final pat and pull my hand free, letting out a resigned sigh. “But it’s your choice. If you’re too tired—”

  “I’m tired, not dead.” S
he slaps my chest when I laugh. “Don’t be a tease. It’s not an attractive quality.”

  “It’s only teasing if there’s no follow-up. I still remember what you said earlier, and I aim to fulfill every wet dream and every waking fantasy you’ve ever had about us.” I press her head back against my shoulder. “On second thought, maybe a quick nap isn’t a terrible idea.”

  She licks her lower lip, staring at me in silence with unfocused, saucer-size eyes.

  “What?” I shrug. “Unless you want to nod off in the middle of being pleasured?”

  “No. No, uh, definitely not.” Her eyelids snap closed, but she grumbles under her breath, “Like I can sleep after you’ve gone through so much trouble getting me all hot and bothered.”

  I turn my head to hide my grin.

  A river otter’s head pops up from the water a few feet from the boat. Unafraid, it watches us pass. The tension I’ve been holding rolls off my shoulders. Elizabeth sighs and wiggles against me, molding herself into my side like warm putty. We fit together as if specifically designed to be the matching half for the other’s body. From our first interaction six months ago, I’ve known the truth. She’s my soul mate.

  The temperature drops. The blend of hot air and gases seeping from the water mix with the sudden chill. Misty tendrils rise from the water, a thickening cloud surrounding the boat.

  Elizabeth shivers, and her arm tightens around my waist. “Why am I suddenly freezing?”

  I sit up, drawing Elizabeth upright. “I sense…” Anger, pain, fear…heading toward us. “Ivy?”

  My daughter leans over George. She has her arms wrapped around his neck, and her body protectively shelters his head. Tears stream down her cheeks as she stares across the water. Her lips move in the silent incantation I taught her for protection against evil spirits. If I can sense the intensity of the emotions transmitted from the approaching entity, it must be almost overwhelming for her as an empath.