A Soul’s Surrender
By Victoria Flynn
A SOUL’S SURRENDER ©2017 by Victoria Flynn
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Beta Readers:
Mara Babcock,
Dawn Yacovetta,
Caitlin McCarthy
Editor / Cover Designer / Interior Designer:
©Airicka’s Mystical Creation
ISBN: 9781370398072
Published by Victoria Flynn
Also available in eBook and paperback publication.
Dedication
For my husband, who never let me quit and always pushed me to be better. Thank you. And also for my brother, Joe “Big Deal” Babcock. You’re sort of a hero.
Acknowledgement
Thank you to everyone who helped bring this book to life. Without you, I would’ve lost my mind and all hope of ever reaching the finish line. Thank you to my readers for giving me and my books a chance. You guys make it all worth it. I must thank my Beta Readers, who took my ramblings and pointed me in the right direction; Dawn Yacovetta, Becca Vincenza, Mara Babcock, and Caitlin McCarthy.
Prologue
“Though lovers be lost, love shall not.”
-Dylan Thomas
Years ago, when I was sixteen, my friends thought it would be fun to visit one of those tarot card readers and have our fortunes told. At the time, I didn’t believe in such things, but being at the tender age of sixteen and needing to fit in overrode those thoughts. I went along, thinking maybe at the very least, the fortune teller would be a good laugh and weave some pretty fantasies for me and my friends, very generic ones that could apply to just about everyone.
The fortune teller had a small storefront in the local shopping district in Lafayette. She was gorgeous with her mocha skin and opulent garb covered in sequins and gemstones. Her presence demanded attention and respect when she entered the small room from behind a crushed velvet curtain. The stereotypical costume and her initial predictions didn’t stray from my expectations. My girlfriend’s fortunes held a man in her future, a death in the family for another, some would come into money, and others would be greatly successful.
Things changed though when she came to me. The tarot cards started off fairly run of the mill, but changed as she turned over each of the six cards. The Emperor—I would have success and achievement and an important man would help support me in my endeavors. The Lovers—I would have a great choice ahead of me, one with considerable risks. Death and the Tower—a turbulent or catastrophic change was coming to my life and such changes would conjure a lot of fear within myself. Strength—my negativity could become my downfall. The World card—I would be successful on my journey.
Madam Jeanine had seen great potential in my reading.
“May I read your palm?” she had asked, hand outstretched and concern carving deep lines into her face. Those lines grew deeper as she gazed at my hand while shooing my friends out of the room.
Waiting for her to say something, anything, I had simply looked around the room at all the trinkets she had fastened to the wall. Antique mirrors, tall pillar candles, and patchwork quilts decorated the space. In the corner of the room was a large alter covered in feathers, skulls, and a large brass bowl where incense smoke billowed up.
“Very strange indeed.”
Madam Jeanine, had sprung up from her seat and shuffled over to the small bookcase that sat hidden in the corner by draped tapestries. She had ran her finger over the spines before finding whatever it was she was looking for and plucking it up from its resting pace.
It was a black, leather bound book with no discernable title etched into its cover. Madam Jeanine had turned and looked me straight in the eye.
“I have a theory, but I just want to do one more test to make sure, you know, just to confirm my suspicions.”
I had nodded indifferently, going along for the ride. The fact that I was being held up, irritated me to no end, but I remained courteous as ever and tried not to let my irritation show. Madam Jeanine had walked about the room, blowing out the candles as she came upon them. She had grabbed a large white pillar candle and placed it in the middle of the table before me. She had fished a cloth sack out of the lower half of the altar and returned to the table. She inhaled deeply.
“Ready?” she’d asked.
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
I wasn’t sure where she was going with this or what was waiting in the bag, and I was a tad nervous to find out.
She had pulled a small pile of bones out of the bag and held them between her hands. Madam Jeanine started whispering to them too low for me to make out what she was saying; I knew from growing up in New Orleans that this was voodoo at its finest.
At sixteen, you think you know everything, both about yourself and about the world without ever really experiencing it. This situation was no different. I thought voodoo was superstitious bullshit that was ingrained into the very fabric that Louisiana was cut from. I paid no real attention to what Madam Jeanine told me on that very ordinary day with my friends.
Angie had poked her head into the room. “You going to be much longer?”
I’d waved her back into the other room and returned my attention to Madam Jeanine. The woman hadn’t wavered in her attentions to her tasks at all. My momentary distraction was all it took for Madam Jeanine to swoop in and prick my finger. Blood welled up where she had punctured my fingertip. She brought the bloodied metal into the flame of the candle.
My finger stung and I popped it into my mouth. I tasted the metallic tang of my blood as I attempted to staunch its flow.
Her eyes had popped open and she dumped the contents of her hands onto the table top, scattering the bones in every different direction. I looked down at the bones, not seeing how someone could make sense of those things. My gaze shifted back and forth between Madam Jeanine and scattered bits, waiting.
Madam Jeanine had looked back up at me, the twinkle in her eye shone brightly. “Maya, you have a hell of a road ahead of you.” She patted my hand. “One that will be filled with heartbreak and loss.”
I internally rolled my eyes at the cliché.
“You will find great love, to be sure. The everlasting kind,” she said with a kind smile. “But it will not last. He will be lost to you.”
I asked no questions of the woman, nor did I give much acknowledgment to her prophecy. Despite her ominous statement, she’d looked radiant, like she had just discovered a diamond mine.
I guess in a way, she had.
It’s funny the things you remember years later, when hindsight is twenty/twenty and crystal clear. Madam Jeanine had been right in everything she had said. I had experienced great loss; my parents had died when a megalomaniac murdered them so they wouldn’t be able to interfere with his future plans. My destiny had been written long before I was born, and I would be great. But would I be happy? I doubted it.
What the fortune telling voodoo woman had been the most right about was the very thing that hurt me the most. I had known great loss, but nothing greater than the despair I felt in that mome
nt. Sitting there in my new bed chamber where the Baron Samedi had promptly deposited me upon my arrival to the Land of the Dead, I pondered how my life had come to this.
Chapter One
Jumping From the Frying Pan Into the Fire
Tears streamed down my face as the raw edges of my broken heart ached. The man of my dreams had loved me just as fiercely as I loved him and now, just as Madam Jeanine had said, I had lost him forever. Rhys’s handsome face was still sharp within my mind, but I knew one day, his image would fade from my memories and I would be left with nothing.
I imagine Madam Jeanine had known from my cards and my palm reading exactly who I was. According to voodoo prophecies, I was to lead those people blessed with white magic through a great war. And now, Drake was gone, the war was over, and I was stuck. Pulled away from everything and everyone I held dear. I was left with nothing.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the vanity mirror, my eyes were red and puffy. They were irritated. My tears started the moment I was ripped away from everything. After being torn away from everything I knew and thrust into the unfamiliar, yet again, I was shaken. My back ached from the damage done to it by Drake. It had finally knit itself back together. I hardly recognized myself. I even felt like a different person. Who was I kidding? I had become a different person. No longer was I the Maya Thibodeau who would never have believed in such nonsense like magic and voodoo. No. Not anymore, I was Maya Thibodeau, the voodoo priestess who was being forced to marry the king of the dead. Maybe all of it would have been easier to handle if I had Angie by my side. The thought of my best friend tore at my heart. I sent up a quick prayer to Damballah that Arlen was taking good care of her and that she would be alright. All of it couldn’t have been for nothing.
As badly as I wanted Drake dead, his face as he was thrown through the portal to the Land of the Dead haunted me. I saw that horrified look every time I closed my eyes. Another tear slid down my damp cheeks as I squeezed my eyelids tightly together.
The Baron, my groom to be, had informed me that Drake would’ve been killed instantly as he passed through the veil between worlds.
“Ripped to shreds,” were his exact words.
Being accompanied by the Loa of the dead himself ensured my safe passage. I remembered the cold, pulling sensation of the portal. Without such amnesty, it was easy to see how he would’ve been gone quickly.
A knock sounded at the heavy, wooden door of my room, making me jump. I sprung to my feet and shuffled towards the door.
“Who is it?” I called shyly. I wasn’t sure that I was in any kind of shape to be receiving company.
“A friend,” a deep, male voice, thick with a Creole accent sounded through the door. It was a familiar voice.
I cracked the door open and peeked out.
“Papa Legba?” He smiled warmly at me as if I were a longtime friend. I pulled the door open wider. “Come in, please.”
Papa Legba stepped just inside the threshold and waited for me before following me toward the sitting area. Swinging the door shut behind him, I staggered after him. I settled into the large, royal blue chaise, seated across from Papa Legba, who had relaxed into the grey armchair.
“My dear, what kind of predicament have you found yourself in?” His tone was part humor and part genuine concern.
Letting out a humorless laugh, I replied, “A predicament of my own making.”
“You did not heed my warning, girl. I told you the Baron would have a steep price and you might not be willing to pay it.”
I assumed that was the Loa version of, I told you so.
I pulled my tangled beyond hope hair into a messy bun. The grit on my skin reminded me how badly I needed a shower.
“What happens now? The Baron said I was going to be his wife.”
Papa Legba’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“That has yet to be seen. Brigitte has been missing for almost one year. In two weeks’ time, the one-year mark of her disappearance will arrive and the Baron would be free to take another wife. If she is found before then, he cannot wed you,” he said, very matter-of-factly. Papa Legba examined his fingernails, looking bored by the conversation.
I pondered what Papa Legba was saying. Finding Brigitte could be the first step towards going home. A tiny glimmer of hope bloomed in my chest at the thought of seeing Rhys again. The glimmer was snuffed out by the realization that the Baron wouldn’t likely let me go so easily. To him, I was as good as his property. My gut told me that there was more going on here. Somehow, the Loa’s struck me as the type that wouldn’t be opposed to twisting the world to their liking, people included.
A quick rap sounded at the door just before it swung open and the Baron Samedi walked in.
“Hello Maya dear.” His tone lacked any kind of warmth.
I didn’t respond. The tension in the room was quickly becoming unbearable. Papa and the Baron were sizing each other up. It surprised me, because they had each been cordial, if not friendly the last time I had seen the two men together. That day in the clearing when I summoned the Baron to question him about Drake seemed like it had months, much longer than the week it had been.
“Hello, old friend,” the Baron said, addressing Papa Legba.
The Loa stood and bowed slightly to the Baron, but remained mute.
Papa turned to me. “I must be going, but I will tell you that I will be seeing you again very soon.”
With a final wink, he turned and strode through the doorway, leaving me alone with the unwanted attentions of the king of the Dead.
The Baron returned his tense stare to me. “I don’t want you to see him again.”
I snorted at his audacity. “Really? What makes you think that you can tell me who I can or can’t see, or talk to? I’m not your property.”
He let his professional façade slip a bit. His skeletal face took over his appearance, leaving behind the fierce, yet handsome man that was hidden beneath. It turned out that it wasn’t paint that made his face look that way, it was his natural state. His normal exterior that usually occupied him was an illusion created to help the Loas blend in with mankind.
The Baron’s eyes were ruthless, cold as he looked me down, trying to make me submit to his will. I wasn’t some pushover anymore. I knew what I could do. My power couldn’t take on that of a Loa, but I could put up one hell of a fight. Bending over and taking whatever bullshit this looney tune on a power trip had in store for me wasn’t on my list of things to do. I had agreed to his terms, but I’d be damned if I was going to be nice about it.
“You’re going to be my wife, my queen. You are my property and you will obey my commands.”
His venomous tone made me straighten up. His tone had only fueled the rage that was growing in my middle. My civility was evaporating right along with my patience.
“You will never be more to me than my contract holder. Marriage is just a piece of paper and that’s all this will ever be. You can’t tell me how to live my life,” I raged at him.
I had just barely gotten the words out when my face was snapped sideways. My cheek burned from the crack of his hand on my flesh. His long fingers wrapped around my throat and he pushed me backwards until my back thumped the wall. Gone was the charming Loa of the Dead and in his place was a monster.
The sudden shift in his demeanor took me by surprise. He squeezed slightly, making it harder to drag precious air into my lungs.
With one final death glare, the Baron said, “You will learn your place.”
He turned and exited the room. He slammed the door behind him.
I slid down the wall and crumpled into a heap on the floor. Coughs wracked my body as I pulled the stale air into my aching lungs. Moisture gathered in the corners of my eyes and threatened to fall. Was this what I had to look forward to for the rest of my life? Endless torture? The future looked bleaker than ever before.
I sat there, leaning against the wall for hours, trying to weigh my options. Running wasn’t an option. Fighting back woul
d be suicide. Biding my time and waiting for my chance to shift the balance of power between us felt like my only true alternative. My door lever jiggled just before the door swung open. A tiny red haired, fair skinned woman strode in carrying a tray full of my meal for the afternoon.
“Good afternoon, Miss.” Her small, sweet voice held a heavy European accent that I couldn’t place. She was quick and steady in her demeanor, but I didn’t miss the way her eyes scanned the room and took everything in like she was afraid.
“Hi,” I squeaked out, my voice thick with the emotions that promised to overcome me.
I staggered to my feet, bracing myself on the wall to prevent my knees from giving out beneath me. The girl set the tray down on my table and scurried about the room tidying up after me, not saying another word.
I moved towards the table where the girl stood, uncovering food. I looked her over. Something thick and dark peaked out from above her high collared grey dress. My hand reached out without ever realizing what I was doing and brushed her collar. The fabric shifted aside to reveal a shackle locked snugly. The girl jumped upon contact skittered away from me. She whirled towards me, gasping and terrified by the contact.
“I’m so sorry, miss!” She avoided eye contact at all cost. Her chin was buried in her chest.
I held my hands up to show her that I meant no harm.
“Don’t be sorry. What’s your name?” I asked gently as I sat down at the table and tucked into the meal laid out before me.
Taking a peek at me, she replied, “Della, Miss.”
“Very nice to meet you, Della. I’m Maya. Please sit down and join me.”
I had a soft spot for the girl. Something about her struck a chord with me. I silently made it my mission to find a way to make the girl’s life a little easier. That scared look tore me up. I thought about what had to have happened to her to put it there.
A Soul's Surrender (The Voodoo Revival Series Book 2) Page 1
