by J. N. Colon
I glanced at my boots, thankful Etie was so adamant I not wear flip flops. The number of bugs floating around us would have eaten my tasty little toes alive.
“Where are we going?” I asked, on the lookout for more snakes. A large spider crawled across the lip of the boat, heading straight for me. With a squeak, I used the edge of my water bottle to knock it overboard.
“We’re going to Dumarsais. He’s a very powerful voodoo caster.”
My brow arched. “And he lives all the way out here?” We’d been traveling through the swamp for the past hour and a half.
Etie nodded. “He doesn’t like people.”
My mouth dried. “Is he going to like us visiting?”
“He knows we’re coming,” he assured, steadily rowing away.
“You called him?” Even as I asked it, I knew that was impossible. The phone company wouldn’t come out here, and there was no way cell service worked. Electricity was probably out of the question too.
“He knows.” Etie’s evasive answer made me think magic was involved.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a small dock came into view with a tiny house at the end. Etie tied the boat to a pole and climbed out first, offering me a hand.
I grabbed it, and he heaved me up, my body slamming into his.
A roguish smile split his lips. “Pardon me, cher. I forgot how light you are.”
Oh, it was this Etie tonight. “Yeah, I’m skinny, I know.”
His lips puckered as he spun around and motioned for me to follow. “I wouldn’t say skinny. Petite.” His eyes cast in my direction. “You’re not a skeleton. Believe me. I’ve definitely felt some curves under those clothes.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. Was I supposed to be offended or thrilled he didn’t think I was such a flaca like my family?
All thoughts of my body image and Etie’s flirty words melted away as a wooden porch came into view. Objects hung from the ceiling, their shapes hazy in the thick night. Small bones swung in the air, a hollow tinkling echoed like a demented wind chime.
I hoped those were animal bones.
Chills puckered my skin as we passed a gator skull twisting on thick twine, twirling around in the gentle breeze cutting through the cypress trees and water tupelos. Sharp teeth jingled on a rope, and animal skins were nailed to the wooden planks.
Etie’s knuckles rapped on the door. It eerily creaked open with no one on the other side. I followed him, my hand reaching for his shirt like a scared little girl hiding behind her mother’s coattails. I snatched my fingers back moments before they made contact, unwilling to let him know the torrent of fear cascading through my body.
I didn’t know why I bothered. He could probably feel me trembling.
My brows arched as Etie moved out of the way, revealing the small room. It wasn’t what I expected. There were no animal sacrifices scattered around or terrifying markings scarring the floor.
He led me further in, my boots sinking into a soft crimson and onyx rug. A light herbal scent drifted from the incense burning on the counter of a small kitchenette to the left.
A dark-skinned man emerged from the corner, his eyes so black there was no telling where his irises ended and the pupils began. I inched closer to Etie as the man slowly covered the small distance between us. My heart galloped in my chest, waiting for the impending storm of voodoo.
Instead, a warm smile split the man’s lips, revealing a set of white teeth. “Étienne, my boy, so happy to see you.” His accent was twice as thick as Etie’s with a sharper French note and raspy from age.
The two embraced like old friends. “Dumarsais, long time, no?” Etie returned the smile.
The man’s eyes shifted toward me, and I was surprised my skin didn’t prickle at their unsettling appearance. “And this must be the cher you’re here about.” He extended his weathered hand.
I took it, the small bones fragile even in my grasp. “It’s nice to meet you, Dumarsais,” I said, repeating the way Etie had pronounced it. “I’m Angel.”
“Etie, you’ve got a real special one here.” He winked. “Don’t let her get away.”
He clucked his tongue at the old man. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard.”
My brows met. What the hell did that mean?
“How is Bastien?” Dumarsais padded into the small kitchen, removing a black tea kettle from the heat on an old wood burning stove. “Still getting himself in trouble, no?”
“Of course,” Etie answered with a shake of his head.
Dumarsais glanced over his shoulder. “And you? You staying out of trouble?”
Etie’s motioned a hand toward me. “Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“Like you’re some angel?” I muttered.
His scoff was drowned out by the man’s rough laughter.
Dumarsais grabbed an old wooden box from the cabinet. “I like you, Angel. Most girls fall all over this one, acting like they don’t got a lick of sense in his presence. Not you.” He shuffled past us. “Make him work for it.”
“The only thing he’s working for is getting me out of this deal.” I shot Etie a narrowed glare.
The old man stopped in front of a door left of the well-worn couch. “The reason we’re all here tonight.”
Etie’s expression changed, his jaw clenching as his gaze followed the old man through the opening. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered and put his hand on my back, pushing me forward.
My blood iced over as I entered behind Dumarsais. The room was straight out of a voodoo nightmare.
Chapter 10
My eyes quickly skipped over the shelf of glass jars, my stomach curling at the mysterious contents. The candlelight cast dancing shadows across the altar table filled with incense, candles, chicken feet dangling from delicate chains, and other trinkets.
“You made a deal with the voodoo king?” Dumarsais’ voice snatched my attention from the strange symbols painted on the floor and walls. He shuffled toward a small table and began dumping ingredients in a bowl.
“Uh, yeah.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, unsure of myself. I was afraid to touch anything. “Not my smartest idea.”
A humorless laugh slipped from Etie. “You think?”
I shot him a death glare. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Well, someone needs to make sure you realize what an epic mistake you made.” His gaze remained on a shelf of dried herbs.
My lips thinned while a hot flush dusted my skin. “You have more mood swings than my menopausal grandmother. One minute you're nice, the next you’re sour. Five minutes later you’re flirting, and then ten seconds later you’re insulting. Who are you?”
Etie grabbed a jar of something and brushed past me. “What can I say, Angeline? You bring out all my inner demons.” He handed it to Dumarsais. “Use this instead of the nightshade,” he mumbled.
The old man nodded and followed Etie’s instructions.
I crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my head at the Cajun. If Etie was giving Dumarsais instructions, why were we here? Why couldn’t Etie do this himself?
“Angel, step inside the circle,” Dumarsais instructed, interrupting my growing suspicions.
An intricate circle of unfamiliar symbols was drawn in white chalk on the wood floor. My neck prickled, and ice rolled down my spine. I swallowed hard, my body reluctant to move.
A warm hand encircled my arm. “It’s okay, Angeline. You’re safe.” Etie led me backward. “I won’t let anything bad happen. Okay?”
I peered into his mismatched eyes. Their steadiness gave me courage. “Promise?” My voice was barely more than a whisper.
“I promise.” He rubbed my arms, chasing away some of the chill that had settled over me.
Dumarsais was grinding ingredients in the bowl. “Typically, a deal made with Baron Samedi is unbreakable. However, you made the deal when you were a child.” His obsidian eyes flicked toward me. “You can’t make that kind of decision at such a young age. He knows
this.”
He obviously didn’t care.
“That’s why he must wait until your eighteenth birthday to collect the debt.” He snapped, and a multitude of candles flared to life while the gas lanterns winked out. “We’re going to look for holes in the string the baron tied to your soul, your gwo-bon ange.”
Etie stepped back, and my hand shot out, grabbing his arm, panic squeezing my heart. “It’s okay, Angeline,” he said, prying my fingers off. He rubbed my hand to soothe the visible turmoil.
When that didn’t work, he glanced over his shoulder. “Hand me the melanj. I’ll do the ekri.”
“The what?” My nerves were so rattled my teeth chattered.
“Relax, cher.” Etie took the bowl from Dumarsais. He dipped his index finger in and touched my arm, drawing a symbol as he whispered under his breath.
Tingles resonated, but that might have been from his touch and not any spell he was casting. He drew more shapes on my other arm and then one in the center of my chest. Etie’s eyes glowed in the darkened room and pierced mine with the same, if not more, intensity as they had when I hid outside of his house.
Energy laced the air like the atmosphere on the verge of a thunderstorm. It was a palpable thing pressing against my body.
Etie motioned Dumarsais over. “I’ll be just outside of the circle, Angeline.” Much to my disappointment, he slipped away.
My lungs expanded to inhale a deep breath, or at least they tried. Dumarsais walked forward, no more humor softening his expression. Instead, it was hard and serious, shadows pulling the recesses deeper. He looked daunting. Ominous.
He shook a gourd wrapped with animal bones in a slow rhythm, mumbling unfamiliar words. More energy crackled through the room, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The air tasted electric and metallic.
Candles flared to life around me, heat encircling my body. Silhouettes played on the walls like the bystanders of a crowd. They watched the ritual unfold, and I could almost feel their anticipation.
A shiver grabbed ahold of my spine as Dumarsais stepped closer. He looked nothing like the peaceful old man who had welcomed us inside. He continued to shake the gourd in an unnerving tempo. The bones clashed and rattled. He lifted his free hand, his fingers curled into a tight fist.
My breathing was short, uneven gasps, each more labored than the next. I couldn’t look away from his impenetrable eyes.
I should have been paying attention to his fist.
Without warning, he shot forward and blew dust from his hand into my face.
Caught off guard, I inhaled. Powdered herbs and whatever-the-hell else burned down my throat. It tore my lungs apart, a disease ravaging every healthy cell.
I doubled over. Beneath my hacking coughs, Dumarsais’ words became more frantic. His voice rose, thundering against my skull. As if the spell mixture had spread, my blood heated. Sweat slicked my hot skin.
The thump of a drum pulled me upright. Etie held a small one covered in animal skins. His hand slapped the surface in a rhythm that matched the rattling gourd. His eyes glowed, a radioactive moss color in one and a glittering sea in the other.
An unnatural howl suddenly sliced through the atmosphere. It tore all other sounds apart. Wind whipped, snaking around the edges of the circle.
I shuddered.
Another force materialized in the room. It was sharp like a blade and cut through the voodoo spell.
My skin puckered, and the heat that had spread to my veins drifted away. Sweat congealed and then froze to a cold sheen.
Dumarsais’ chants grew louder, his words fighting to overtake the howling. My hair whipped in my face, obscuring my vision. I brushed the strands out.
I shouldn’t have.
Those deep obsidian eyes were now a glowing shade of pearly white.
I stumbled back, cold terror clutching my heart in a death grip. The symbols forming the edges of the circle rippled as if warning me back to the center.
Something was wrong.
Pressure coalesced around my head, and my ears popped. A power blossomed in my chest, uncoiling through my body.
Why was something coming from inside me?
I swallowed hard as the foreign sensations traveled my skin. At first, I assumed it was part of Dumarsais’ spell until I saw the dumbfounded expression marring his dark face.
The power that emerged from inside me shifted into invisible binds. They tightened around me, restricting my movements. I could scarcely breathe. Hell, I could barely blink.
Panicked, I sought out Etie. His glowing eyes widened in realization.
I was in danger.
The drum fell from his hands, and he marched to the circle. The symbols on the floor sizzled and shuddered, unwilling to let him through.
A snarl curled his lips, and he waved his hand over them. A pulse of hot energy rippled through the air.
Etie’s magic broke the spell’s barrier, and he crossed toward me. Black spots converged over my vision. I was close to passing out.
“Angeline!” His voice was a beacon in the dark.
My eyes focused on him and he grabbed me, steadying my swaying body. He smeared the marks on my arms and my chest. “Fini ak li!”
The invisible binds released me, yanking back into my chest where they had materialized. I sucked in a lungful of sweet air and collapsed into Etie’s arms. My next breath was laced with his herbal scent.
The howling melted away, as did the gales. The gourd was quiet, and so was Dumarsais.
Silence unfolded. The calm after a storm.
Etie’s hands ran up and down my back, soothing me. He whispered soft French in my ear. The sounds were comforting. He was comforting.
“Angeline, you okay, no?” His fingers massaged my neck.
If he kept it up, I was going to fall asleep.
I reluctantly pulled back, staring into his eyes. The irises still popped and shimmered with power. “I think so.”
“I’m sorry, Etie.” Dumarsais was leaning against a table, his breath labored and his dark skin slick with sweat. “There’s too much power around her. Like a barrier.” He shook his head. “No ordinary thing. It’s been there a long time.”
My stomach churned because whatever it was, it was still inside me. Had it been there since I struck a deal with the voodoo king?
As if he felt my unease, Etie’s pulled me close again. “I’ve never heard of Baron Samedi putting a protection around a gwo-bon ange.”
Dumarsais shook his head. “That’s just it. It’s not only around her gwo-bon ange. It’s around all of her.” He mopped his forehead with a rag. “Her soul, her body, her mind… everything.”
Acid crawled up my throat, coating the back of my mouth. The room spun. If I hadn’t been holding onto Etie, I would have lost the fight with my unbalanced equilibrium and hit the floor.
“I’m not even sure…” Deep lines formed over Dumarsais’ face. “It didn’t feel like voodoo surrounding her.”
Etie’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He didn’t seem surprised by this. “I think the baron has been dabbling in things beyond voodoo.”
My lungs constricted, and ice coated my veins. “What else is there besides voodoo?”
Those mysterious, mismatched eyes traced over me as if searching for something beneath the surface. “Witchcraft.”
Chapter 11
Another bolt of lightning slashed the sky, spreading glowing veins across the dark, heavy clouds. The boom of thunder followed, rumbling through the atmosphere. Steam rolled across the pavement, fat raindrops giving it a reprieve from the baking Louisiana sun.
A droplet of condensation fell from my sweating water bottle, splattering against the faded front porch of the Leroux house. My mind was buzzing with thoughts and images of the voodoo spell Dumarsais cast last night. Or tried anyways. Something inside of me had stopped him.
I swallowed the acrid taste coating my tongue. The voodoo king’s claws were sunk deep inside. Why was he so determined to
get my soul? I was just a girl. Nothing special.
Witchcraft.
I hadn’t even known it existed until last night. It made sense though. If voodoo was real, why not witchcraft? It had me wondering what else was out there.
But there was one glaring question embedded in my mind. Why did Baron Samedi, the voodoo king, need to use a spell of witchcraft to put a barrier around me?
The scuff of a shoe echoed behind me as Etie walked onto the porch. We were the only two left this late in the afternoon. After last night’s events ripped straight from a horror flick, I felt safer with him around. It didn’t matter he’d ignored me most of the day. It was just one side of his personality. Another one would probably pop out soon to say hello.
“Here, cher.” He handed me a lollipop.
A peace offering for the cold shoulder?
I took it, twirling it between my fingers while he unwrapped his.
I’d never seen a guy look so damn sexy with a lollipop hanging out of his mouth. Etie’s deep brown hair was extra tousled today, as if he’d been running his fingers through the untamed strands. The sun glinted on the scar beneath his lip. How had he gotten it?
My gaze roamed his thick frame roped by iron muscles. Probably in a fight.
I licked my lips, entranced by his hard physique.
Etie’s brow arched while humor danced in his eyes.
Damn it.
I spun around to hide my blushing cheeks. “So, uh…” I cleared my throat, my fingers gripping the railing. “Do you know a lot of witches?”
My mind crapped up images of beautiful women dancing naked around a fire in the middle of the woods.
Ugh. If it was like that, I hoped he didn’t know any.
“A few,” he said evasively.
“Are they all women?” Did my voice sound as jealous out loud as it did in my head?
Etie leaned against the railing next to me, his gaze cast toward the sheets of rain pelting the gravel driveway. “Men are witches, too.”
