The Brothers Bernaux [01] Raisonne Curse

by Rinda Elliott

  Pryor ended up having to give Bob a head wash and because the brothers never let anyone up to their home hidden in the trees, they’d had to make do with a long hose. Ricky had brought salt and conditioner while Bob found rosemary in the garden.

  Now, Pryor glanced over at Elita.

  She grinned at him. “Those men were a trip. I kept pointing at things and asking Ricky if he’d eaten them and he nodded every time.”

  “There isn’t much some of the locals will pass up if they’re hungry enough.”

  She rubbed her stomach. “I can’t believe how hungry I am considering how disgusting the thought of their food was. You know what sounds good right now? Po boys. I’ve got a batter for fried shrimp that will make your mouth water just smelling it. We could go to Ma’man’s. She has a lot.”

  They did sound good. His stomach growled. “I wish we could. Wish it with all my heart. But I have to get back to my part of the swamp tonight. I do have some frozen shrimp we could put in water as soon as we get home.”

  “There’s still some of that bread left too.” She grinned. “The best po boys come on fresh homemade, toasted bread. Too bad I never got to make any yesterday. There is nothing I like more than homemade bread.”

  Pryor groaned. “You’re killing me. I could be full and I’d still want to taste your food.” He steered the boat around a sharp turn. “So, what’s in the batter?”

  She wagged her finger. “Uh, uh. I don’t share my secrets until we’ve shared blood.”

  “Blood?”

  “Sure. Blood brothers can always be trusted.” This time, she winked and something in his belly turned over.

  She was just so. Damned. Cool.

  “I have a question about your hex work.” Her tone had changed. Grown more hesitant.

  “Shoot.”

  She had to yell because he’d sped the boat up. “Why didn’t you just use the bastard cedar seeds on Bob?”

  “I get why you’re asking.” He nodded, adjusted his headset. “It would make sense that the strongest supplies would be a better choice. Thing is, I need those seeds for a generational spell to kill the Raisonne curse completely. It’s strong, strong magic and I don’t want to use it without my brothers.”

  “But what you did was still more than you planned, right?”

  “Yeah.” A lot more and because it took so long, dark was going to hit soon and they weren’t in the right part of the swamp.

  “I’m curious about something else.” Her cheeky grin warned him her next question was gonna be a doozy. “Was all that hair as soft as it looked?”

  Pryor lifted an eyebrow. He was well aware of how attractive the LaBarre brothers were to a lot of women—ones who went for the big bear sort. He had to admit that it would bother him a lot if Elita felt that way. Not because she found hairier men attractive, but that she would be thinking of any other man that way. He was already dangerously attached to her. “I wasn’t really paying attention to how his hair felt.” He started to laugh as a memory came to him.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Mamere always said that if we masturbated too much, we’d grow hair on our hands.”

  She snorted so loudly, it came through the headset. “Ricky and Bobby must have been busy, busy boys.”

  “No doubt.” And Ricky had barely taken his eyes off Elita the entire time they were there. It had gotten to the point Pryor quit trusting him to keep his hands to himself and he’d ended up tugging Elita over to stand close to him while he’d given Bob the head wash. And damn, but he hadn’t planned to use that sort of magic today. Already, his palms were starting to blister.

  “If it weren’t for the hoarding and the animal stuffing, I’d introduce Ava to Ricky. She likes her men hairy.”

  With effort, Pryor pushed away his worry and sped up the boat. They passed a small motorboat and the fishermen waved and were probably surprised when he didn’t stop to say hi. He probably could have bought something fresh off them, but didn’t have the time. “She should date Mercer, then. My brother stole all the chest hair before our mama had Wyatt and me. He’s been growing a beard too.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  Pryor was both looking forward to and dreading his brothers’ arrival. There was no doubt in his mind that either one would take one look at him with Elita and know there was trouble.

  His hands started to go numb. Damn, he needed to get home. Mercer and Wyatt were supposed to arrive tonight and already, he felt that hollow sort of grasp the magic got on his system, the drag of someone or something taking the reins. It took effort to keep the fear under wraps so he didn’t worry the sweet woman next to him.

  “Wow.” Elita pointed. “That’s a picture perfect sunset if I ever saw one.”

  Following her finger, Pryor’s heart swelled as he took in the setting sun. They were in a narrow part of the bayou and the lowering sun glittered huge and hot. The way it sat in the sky made it seem as if rays of light were streaming out in six different directions. It was like the star was showing itself to them in all its glory.

  “I love this time of day on the bayou,” Elita said, her voice lowering as he slowed the boat to better take in the absolute beauty ahead of them. “Mostly,” she muttered and slapped at a bug on her arm.

  “When I was a kid, my dad would take me and my brothers out on the family boat. It was this old twenty-footer piece of crap that he loved like crazy. We’d hunt bullfrogs so Mamere could fry them up for dinner.”

  Elita shuddered. “Never been a fan of those. Yuck.”

  “He always took us out early enough so we could hit this one part of the swamp where sunset made you feel like magic ruled all the world and not just those of us unfortunate enough to be caught in her grip.” He reached out and threaded his fingers with hers. “I’d like to take you to that spot one night. We’ll skip the bullfrog part.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “I’d like that. Very much.” Then she frowned. “So in her grip, eh? You think magic is a woman?”

  “What else can tangle you into a heaping mess and be so beautiful you can’t breathe? Of course she’s a woman.”

  The weakness creeping into his system at an alarming rate made him realize he had no choice. He had to explain things to her and explain them fast. He stopped the boat, looked out over the still noisy swamp before closing his eyes. Just long enough to whisper some kind of prayer that she’d get them home before he turned. He’d seen it. Seen what he looked like during the payback. Still had nightmares about it. He didn’t want this wonderful woman seeing it. Ever. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned to her. “Can you drive this thing?”

  She nodded, eyes going so wide, the whites stood out in the dim light left. “My uncle had one and taught my cousins and me when we were still kids.”

  “You need to listen to me. I need you to get me home.” The trees moved into a swirl as dizziness swamped him. “I’m making you privy to another Bernaux secret. We can’t be away from the swamp when we do magic.”

  “But we’re right on the swamp.”

  “Our part of it. None of our family has ever been ever to explain why and we have no way of finding out the crazy reason, but that’s the way it is. It’s one of the reasons my brothers only stay away a short time, and why they go so far away from here. Nobody knows to ask for help away from these parts.” He swayed, held on to the back of the black seat. “Nobody can makes direct requests for hex work.”

  She touched his face and he turned his cheek into her touch. “You really can’t turn people down, can you?” she asked.

  “No. Which is why I helped Bob back there. But it’s normally not something any of us do this far from home. I think the payback is coming on faster because I’m not in the right part of the water. I’ve never been away when I did it. People always come to us. It’s why one of us is always at the house no matter what. Why I set my business there.”

  “What payback?” Alarm filled her voice, making it louder, her tone high
er. “It’s more than just blistered hands? I knew it!”

  He knew the smile he tried to give her was weak. “Everything has a price. Everything wants payback. You grew up in the swamp and know just like the rest of us that nothing comes easy in this world.”

  “But what you do helps people. That’s not fair.”

  “That’s another thing I’m surprised you haven’t learned. Life is hardly fair.”

  “Oh, I’ve learned that.” She growled and the sound was so cute, he managed a grin. “I just don’t like it.”

  “Me neither, Elita. Me neither.” His vision turned black at the edges and that creeping numbness moved up past his knees. “I’m sorry I have to ask you to get us back. Do you think you can find it?”

  “I was paying attention. I’m pretty sure I know the way.”

  Pryor cursed softly. He didn’t even have a map on him—not that he had any recent ones and the basin changed all the time. What was land one day could be water the next. Before he could tell her more, the dark crept in and he only had time to collapse down on the floor of the boat.

  “Oh my God, Pryor!”

  Elita scrambled down next to him. His chest still moved with his breaths, his skin still radiated heat and sounds still rumbled from his throat—though the latter stopped fast. She stroked his face, loving the rasp of stubble against her palm, hoping he’d turn into her touch as he had before. But he lay there, still and now silent. She put her ear on his chest and his heart beat reassuringly strong. That eased her mind a bit, but not enough. She stood and tugged on his arm to bring him more toward the middle of the airboat’s floorboard. He was going to get wet if she moved as fast as she wanted, but it couldn’t be helped. Mosquitoes already swarmed, stinging her arms, so she hurriedly grabbed the repellent and held one hand over Pryor’s nose and mouth and sprayed him down first. She then coated herself before hurrying back to the seats. She started the boat and grabbed the steering stick, keeping the vehicle in neutral as she accelerated.

  While most had regular boats around here, a few used the airboats, so she was familiar with them. She could get them home. Her main worry was keeping Pryor from falling out because he rolled slightly when she pushed the stick all the way forward to turn the boat right and get them back on track. She slowed, too scared to go fast then.

  She was guessing she was still an hour from the Bernaux part of the swamp when full dark hit.

  It fell over the bayou like someone had poured a huge bucket of ink over their heads. And unlike the other night when the eerie silence had made her feel like she’d entered alien territory, the night sounds here spilled over the quiet in a concert so familiar and so loud, it rivaled the noise of the motor.

  Light from the boat picked up trees in front and the darkness swallowed them as she rolled past. Some of the cypress and tupelo trees curved into the sky like dancing ghosts. Some stood straight with thick trunks that flared out like skirts. Sometimes, the light picked up the glow of eyes. Owls or creatures creeping along the shore. She spotted a gator watching just above the surface of the water.

  Something huge and loud crashed just ahead and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

  Elita stopped the boat, glad when the noise of the motor finally went quiet. She looked at Pryor to find their stopped motion hadn’t even awakened him. She knelt beside him, placed her palm on his chest. His shirt, soaked with sweat, felt cool against her palm—probably from the wind. His heart beat, still reassuring and strong underneath. “Pryor,” she whispered even though she didn’t know why. They were the only humans in this spot and animals would hear her easily.

  Owls hollered from both sides of the water, some so close they had to be in the tree limbs above her. The crickets’ song, loud and piercing, made her ears ring. The boom of bullfrogs echoed on either side of her as well. The saw grass was so thick she could only imagine the number of snakes slithering around in there.

  Something moved in the brush to their right.

  She held her breath, stood, and grabbed a flashlight. She aimed it that direction and slowly moved the beam left and right. It rolled over tree trunks and leaves and she whirled to her right when something moved again.

  Leaves and small branches crunched with the slow footsteps.

  It could be a deer. Could be anything. Why this rancid, black terror filled her was anyone’s guess, but years of dealing with the Raisonne curse and the last few weeks dealing with the smudge man made her overly suspicious. Pryor was completely helpless passed out like that. She stood protectively over him, slowly panning the flashlight.

  Footsteps, slow and steady, sounded again as they broke twigs and crunched dried leaves.

  “Who’s there?” she called out, still swinging the light back and forth.

  The noise stopped.

  She couldn’t breathe, could barely think as terror turned her muscles to stone. She switched the flashlight to her other hand as her right wrist started to ache.

  Another step sounded and she hurriedly moved the light to that spot. “I can hear you! Who are you?”

  Her heart was beating so damned hard, it nearly drowned out the loud drone of insects. She felt somewhat safe on the boat in the middle of the water—or she should have. But something was out there. It could easily be a deer or some other kind of animal, but the air felt heavy, malevolent.

  Then, like it had the first night in the Bernaux part of the swamp, silence rolled out over the land and water and the resulting quiet echoed sharply in her head. It made the next footsteps crash into the quiet with ominous precision. But this hush was different. There were still some sounds but they came hesitant, as if the creatures around them knew something she didn’t. Like they waited for whatever was going to happen next.

  A bird suddenly squawked right over her head and Elita whimpered, dropped the flashlight, and before she could pull her headset back on, a coyote barked, then howled. Others joined in before the ones closest to the shore started snarling and growling.

  She hurriedly covered her ears with the headset. Her gaze darted around as she knelt to make sure the muffs covered Pryor’s ears. Screw this! She’d get Pryor home and safe and ignore whatever hell the smudge man had planned for her. She frantically started the boat, sure her heart was going to beat its way up her throat and out through her ears. Sweat covered her skin and the air that brushed over her as the boat picked up speed made her feel a slight bit of comfort. Getting away from whatever had been walking in that forest gave her more. Coyotes hadn’t been making that noise. She knew it. She’d felt eyes on her that had not belonged to any sort of animal.

  The ride to the Bernaux part of the swamp seemed to take forever. Longer than an hour. The whole time, her gaze roamed the water and the land as if any second, some phantom would rise and attack. She wished Pryor would wake up—wished she knew why he was so still and silent. She looked at him often. He never moved.

  She thought they were getting close, anticipation making her palm sweat on the steering stick. They had a straight shot for a while there, so she accelerated, her gaze staying on the spread of light on the water in front of the boat. It looked like the boat was chomping the green water hyacinth as it mowed over it and she thought about Tooter’s long bitch session about the invasive flower again. If she hadn’t been so scared about Pryor, she would have smiled. A happy Cajun was a bitching Cajun and Tooter seemed particularly skilled at it. So skilled, she no longer wondered why his boys were so quiet.

  All thoughts of Tooter and his boys fled when she spotted something ahead in the water.

  Elita leaned forward, squinted, thinking about slowing the boat again because there was some kind of black cloud rising from the water near the Bernaux pier. She slowed the boat, expecting the creepy silence this time and when she pulled off the headset, a low, garbled moan rolled over the surface of the water, getting louder as it came toward her.

  The scream building in her throat threatened to choke her and it escaped when she glanced down to check on Pr
yor.

  He was sitting and seemed to be looking right at her. But something was wrong with his face. She didn’t have time to turn the light on him because pressure hit the back of her hand and forced her to accelerate the boat.

  Way. Too. Fast.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pryor came to in the water like always. Groaning, he reached out and grabbed handfuls of thick blades of grass to haul himself to land. He spit foul water and slimy weeds from his mouth. The toes of his boots dragged the mud, caught on rocks and other debris and the muscles in his arms felt like jelly as they trembled and refused to work well. This time was different. It felt like someone had tied him to the back of his boat and dragged his body to flop through the swamp. Searing pain flared in his knee and when he hit shallow water, he rolled onto his back and looked down to find raw, abraded skin showing through a massive rip in his jeans. They were torn from thigh to shin and his knee had swelled to twice its normal size.

  He lifted his hands, frowning at the raw skin of his palms. His right cheek hurt. He rolled to pull himself fully from the water, wondering about Moochon’s whereabouts right as he saw the crushed pier with his boat on top of the destruction.

  It started to come back to him then. He’d been driving the boat back with Elita after visiting the LaBarre brothers and he’d been scared he wouldn’t get back in time to the right part of the swamp. The part that belonged to him and his brothers.

  Stark fear sent a surge of adrenaline through his system. He’d crashed. Crashed with Elita helpless in the boat. He yelled for her as he crawled to his feet and stood swaying as he took in what was left of his pier. He staggered forward, not giving a shit about the damage to his property—just wanting to find the woman who’d come to mean so much to him so fast. Pain slashed through his knee. He must have been thrown into the water, landed on his hands and his knee. Hit his face on something.