She held up her hand to block the next blast of sun and squinted ahead. “Are those deer antlers being used as hand rails?” Elita asked. “Did they not think that removing the pointy parts was a good idea?”
“They don’t like company and do everything they can to deter folks. They’re always worried about theft.” He pulled closer to the pointy dock. “Don’t trip and fall.”
“I don’t even want to step foot on that pier. I can spot rotted boards from here.”
“Wait until you see the rest of their property.”
Junkyard was the only description Elita could come up with, her mouth falling open as she took in the amount of things on the property. Cars in various stages of disassembly, barrels and animals. Real, stuffed animals that stared with beady, empty glass eyes.
“They’re taxidermists?”
Pryor nodded. “Among other things.”
She couldn’t stop looking around. “What did you say you could get here? Bastard seeds?”
Breath from his laugh brushed over the back of her neck as he leaned close. “West Indian Elm but some call the trees bastard cedars. They have some on their property. But uh, don’t say anything about any other plants you might recognize.”
She picked up on what he meant fast. “Out in plain sight? Really?”
“Not usually, but you never know with them. They have to make their money somehow. Neither have jobs that I know of. And um, don’t mention the gnomes either. They’re a little sensitive about them. Also, their family speaks predominantly French. With a twist.”
“So many rules,” she muttered as she turned a circle, trying to take it all in. Yes, there were gnomes. What had to be thousands of them in all shapes, sizes and colors—but mostly red. Why would anyone collect so many? But then, she’d never truly understood why anyone collected anything they didn’t actually use. What was the point of having all kinds of knickknacks you had to dust anyway? Not that anything here was dusted. Outside like this.
She turned and yelped when she came face to face with the yellow glass eyes of a stuffed egret mounted on a tall stump. Its spread wings and height on the wood made it seem as if it would swoop down any second and bite off her nose.
She was afraid to move for fear she’d knock something over and break it.
“Oh good,” Pryor murmured. “It’s the friendly brother. There are two and a sister. We can only hope the sister isn’t anywhere around. She’s scary.”
“Aborde pas icitte!”
She saw the rifle first. “He’s the friendly one?” Elita asked as her mouth fell open. She’d been expecting old and grizzled because of the unbelievable clutter. And the French. What she got was a romance cover model—if he had hair everywhere. Seriously, the man had a pelt on his bare chest, on his chin and the bare legs under his jean shorts probably had to be combed. His face was freaking gorgeous with these big, sleep-slanted, midnight blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and the black hair on his head waved all over like he’d just gotten out of bed.
“You should probably close your mouth before he gets any ideas.”
She wanted to tell Pryor that thread of annoyance in his tone wasn’t needed. Yeah, the man was good looking in an overly furry way, but she still felt taken. Maybe that was wishful thinking on her part, but after last night…and this morning, she had no interest in anyone else.
Pryor held up his hands. “Now, Ricky. Put that gun away.”
Ricky was not a name that fit this man. At all. If that gun hadn’t been pointing their direction, she would have been fighting to cover a laugh.
“Je sais que c’est un grand abus je te fais.” Pryor leaned closer to her. “I just told him that I know it’s a big imposition I’m making on him. The LaBarres don’t like people showing up. But they don’t have a phone either, so there is never really a choice.”
“Je m’adresse pas â toi!”
“English, Ricky. It’s rude when the sweet lady here doesn’t understand.”
“I not talking to you! Tu as pas d’affaire ici!”
Pryor sighed. “I do have business here. We had an accident at home and lost a lot of supplies. I’d like to replenish them, but for now, how about we just talk about the bastard seeds, hmm?”
“Who is she?” He nodded that thick, shaggy head toward Elita. The shock over the utter beauty of his face still had a hold on her. She’d kill for those cheekbones.
“My name is Elita. It’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand, hoping he’d lower the rifle.
“Raisonne?” He lowered the gun then. “Ma’man Raisonne’s girl?”
“I’m her granddaughter.”
He frowned.
“My mother was also Elita. They like the name in my family.”
“You, I will speak with. Ce bougre est achalant.” He sneered at Pryor.
“You’re kind of annoying yourself there.” Pryor sneered back at him. “Is your sister home? She always did understand the importance of money the most. Maybe she’ll sell me some bastard seeds.”
“Elle s’est accolée avec son ami longtemps passé.” He shrugged. “Coullion.”
“I didn’t know she had a boyfriend or that she moved. How did your brother take that?”
“He was ready for her to go. She’s a shrill one.” Ricky shrugged. “While you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful. He got another cunja.”
Pryor shook his head. “I’m offering cash this time.”
“Your money is no good here. Il est abattu de la migraine.”
“Bob needs a doctor for those headaches, not a hex breaker.”
Pink showed on the parts of his face not covered by that thick beard. “Je m’accuse d’avoir jure.”
“You cursed your brother, Ricky? Really?”
“He’s an asshole, bro.” He shrugged. “Will you help him anyway?”
Pryor’s eyes closed briefly before he nodded. “Okay, take me to him.”
Elita couldn’t understand why he’d acquiesced so fast. She put her hand on his arm. “Really? You’re going to do magic?” That was when she remembered that he had no choice once someone asked outright. She squeezed his arm, hating the hold this had over him.
“Don’t worry. We need those seeds.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered in her ear. “I really have no choice. I’ll do something small.” He straightened up. “Hey, do you think your brother will sell me some salvia?”
“Now you know he won’t admit to growing that.”
Pryor grinned. “He won’t admit to growing shit when it comes to me.”
“True, Bernaux, true.” Ricky swung the rifle up on his shoulder.
Elita flinched when it swiveled around—she couldn’t help it.
“Don’t know why you’re worried. Salvia is legal to have it as long as it isn’t meant for human consumption.”
Big, bushy, black eyebrows came together as Ricky scowled. “Whatever the hell else would it be used for, bro? Don’t want you pokin’ around our house. You wait here and I’ll get the bastard seeds. And Bob.”
He sauntered off and Elita saw that he was barefoot. “You couldn’t pay me to walk around here without shoes. Look at all the sharp pieces of metal. And what’s this?” She knelt and pushed aside a sad-looking stuffed armadillo to see a gorgeous, framed, antique mirror. “Why in the world would they leave something like this out in the elements?” She ran her hand over the carved wooden frame that had faded and cracked.
“They hoard. There are more things out here than you can possibly think up.” Pryor’s voice faded as he moved away from her. “I’m going to take a peek at the garden.”
Elita stayed where she was, her head moving left and right as she took in the…stuff. So much stuff. She smirked, remembering a comedy skit she’d caught once about people needing bigger houses for more stuff. These LaBarres didn’t need a house—they planned to fill up the bayou.
She was about to stand up when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She froze as a wave of ugl
y, black hatred seemed to spill over her shoulders, causing every hair on her body to stand on end.
Oh no, not now. Not here.
As slowly as possible, she turned her face back to that mirror, expecting to see a ghost. Her eyes flaring painfully wide when she spotted the creature crouched behind her. Had that gator been in the reflection before? Why would one be this far up onto this crazy, cluttered property? And wouldn’t she have noticed a stuffed creature that big?
As she stared at it, the thing slowly turned its head to look at her.
Yellow-brown eyes with huge black pupils glittered.
The terror that slammed into her body made her instantly nauseous. She could outrun it—alligators weren’t that fast on land really, not for distance. But they could lunge like nobody’s business. If she could get a head start, climb something, she’d be fine. They preferred to attack their prey in the water. But it was looking at her like she’d been chosen for dinner and she was at a disadvantage kneeling here. She couldn’t take her eyes off it as she tried to remember how close she was to the rusted out Plymouth carcass. She could climb on top of it if she jumped up fast enough and dashed.
Just as she was about to move, Pryor touched her shoulder and she screamed.
“Whoa! What is it?” He pulled her up and looked around fast.
Elita had been ready to push him into running, but when she looked at the spot that had held that gator, nothing was there but a stuffed alligator gar about an eighth of the size of the thing she’d been looking at in the mirror. She squatted back down, looked and saw nothing but the fish. Her hands shook as Pryor pulled her back to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, unable to process because she’d seen a huge alligator and she’d seen it move…look at her. She pulled back from Pryor and put a hand on her own chest to try and calm her racing heart. “I thought I saw something. Sorry for freaking out like that.”
Her scream must have been loud because Ricky and his brother skidded to a stop, breathing hard like they’d run all the way here.
“Qui c’est qui fait un pareil haut-le-corps?” the new brother yelled.
Red-hot humiliation managed to chase away the last of the fear. “I thought I saw something. Sorry for the yelling.”
“Now, Bob, Elita wasn’t making a commotion, so there’s no need to shout.” Pryor frowned and pulled Elita closer to his side. “That must hurt if you have a migraine like your brother said.”
“Hurts like I got gator hooks in three different spots in my brain.”
Elita winced, then managed not to stare in shock. This brother looked so much like the other, they should have been twins. He wore jeans, a blue, ratty T-shirt and had dirty brown tennis shoes on his feet, but tufts of thick black hair stuck out of the top of his collar and turned his arms dark. He had tons of long, flowing, black hair. And just like Ricky, his face was gorgeous. Now she kind of desperately wanted to see their sister. Would she be as stunning as these guys? Had she been spared in the hair department? Elita could only hope so for the unknown woman.
“You guys are lucky Elita and I picked up some plants today. I have to go back to my boat and get the mugwort. What kind of hex did you do, Ricky?”
Bob’s eyes, which had already been narrowed in pain, nearly disappeared in his instant squint. “What hex?”
Elita stepped back. Who knew how the huge Bob would react to finding out his brother had put the cunja on him. She held her breath, waited, a part of her still looking around her feet for the ghost gator she’d seen in the mirror. She shivered, wondered if the smudge man had something to do with that and what would have happened if she’d watched that creature crawl closer in the reflection.
“You hexed me?” Bob’s voice came out in a low, gravelly growl.
Ricky didn’t answer. He merely crossed his thick arms and stared mutinously before he turned to Pryor. “There’s mugwort over there.” He tilted his head. “J’ai eu un accidnet dedans mon jardin, so watch out for the snakes.”
“What did he say?” she whispered when Pryor started laughing.
“He said he had an accident in the garden.”
“Damn fool brother dropped the live bait cage in there.” Bob stomped that direction. “Every cottonmouth in the bayou moved in.”
“Live bait cage?” Elita grimaced, swatting at a couple of persistent flies. “Do I even want to know?”
“How do you think they lure all these animals they stuff?”
“I’m not much for killing things when it’s not for food.” She thought of the fishermen who looked forward to gator hunting season every year to help earn enough to take care of their families. They did keep the population down. “Or for livelihood.” But all these stuffed animals with their glittering glass eyes unnerved her. It was positively barbaric. She looked at Ricky to find him watching her with an overly confident leer. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“We eat everything we kill.” He chuckled and she knew the warm, friendly sound that belied the unattractive egomania pouring off him, probably lured plenty of women in.
She pointed near her feet. “You ate the armadillo? Let me guess, it tasted like chicken?”
“Meat’s too red for chicken.” He shrugged, tilted his head, and brushed his hand through the crazy mane. “You should come stay. Avec moi,” he murmured. “Les filles s’adoucissent vite.”
Elita’s mouth dropped open. “I think I got that.” She looked at Pryor. “Please tell me I didn’t get that right.”
“What did you get?” Pryor was shaking his head and glaring at Ricky.
“The girls become tame quickly living with him?”
He grimaced. “Yeah, you pretty much got it. He won’t do anything more than talk, so don’t worry about staying here with him. I’m going into the garden with Bob. I have to weave a garland of mugwort.” He winked at her. “I might even thread in some flowers. Gonna make Bob wear it on his head for the next week. Should go great with all that long hair.”
She covered her mouth to hide the smirk. But her amusement faded as she watched him walk into the snake-infested garden. She knew he didn’t want to do any spell work today, knew he was worried about the backlash.
She crossed her arms and stared at Ricky. “You know, telling a woman you can tame her isn’t the best way to lure one into your…” She looked around at the massive amounts of…crap. “Lair.”
“Got no problems luring.”
She frowned when she spotted the entire family of stuffed nutria. The huge rats had become a problem in the area, but still. “Please tell me you didn’t eat those.” She pointed.
“They make good jerky.”
She barely managed to hold back her automatic gag reflex at the thought, wondering if she looked as awkward as she felt standing there with the hairy, crazy-gorgeous, half-naked man staring at her. “Think you could give me a deal on more plants out of your garden? I, um…” She hated admitting this to someone, but really had no choice. “I burned down the Bernaux spell room. I’m looking to restock them.”
Those fascinating brows lifted. It was like watching chalkboard erasers climb his face. “You burned it down?”
“It was an accident,” she snapped.
He laughed and this time, he sounded genuinely amused. “I like you. You come back another day without Pryor, eh? We talk, you and me.”
She couldn’t help but grin at him. “Man, you lay it on thick. I’ll come back, but hopefully it won’t be alone. I like that man dodging serpents in your garden—I like him a lot. You get what I mean?”
He nodded and this time, his smile was a lot friendlier. “I saw that right off. He feels the same, him.”
“I hope so,” she muttered half under her breath. “I really hope so.”
After that, Ricky was friendlier and he used a lot less French so she could keep up with the conversation. Her Ma’man wasn’t one to use the language and though Elita had grown up around swampers who did,
she’d never taken the time to really pay attention. Ava knew more, though she liked to pretend she didn’t. Said she learned more of the old ways like that.
Pryor sought her out half an hour later, finding her laughing with the now perfectly friendly LaBarre brother as he showed her his collection of gnomes. Really, she could not understand the need to own this many of them. Or even the attraction to the things. Though she did kind of like the zombie ones. Ma’man would get a real kick out of having those things lurking around her garden.
Annoyance made Pryor’s voice low and gritty. “Looks like someone with a lot more power than Ricky hexed Bob. We’re gonna be here awhile.”
Chapter Ten
Worry rode Pryor like the smothering, summer humidity clung to his skin as they climbed back into the boat. The sun—a fat, orange globe—sat low in the sky between stands of tall trees. Lower than he liked for the trip back. They were a couple of hours out even in the fast airboat. He and his brothers had always been so careful to never be out this far after using their magic. It was what had killed his uncles. They performed a hex breaker too far from home and hadn’t made it back in time.
He would have never left this so late, but he’d had no choice. That mess with Bob turned out to be tougher than he’d expected. It was possible Ricky had put a small curse on his brother, but Ricky had no power and there was something attached to the older LaBarre brother that came from someone who did carry the spark. Much more than a spark, actually. The older man’s curse had been a lot like Elita’s with a heavy, tarp-like feel that covered his shoulders. He’d asked Bob who he’d wronged and got the only grin he’d ever seen on that grouchy man’s face as he’d bragged about his many enemies. “J’ai beaucoup d’ennemis! Who haven’t I done wrong?”
Searching out the source would have been impossible even though Ricky had showed him their newest gnome that had showed up on their front porch, smelling like piss. Peeing on a cursed totem. Wasn’t a new way to pass along a hex around here. Pryor shuddered. He loathed that one. Not that he liked any of them, but that one was particularly nasty. People were stupid, messing with what they didn’t understand. Just as with anything, there was always a price to pay for using magic. Someone out there probably had one hell of a nasty bladder infection.
The Brothers Bernaux [01] Raisonne Curse Page 13
