by Unknown
A Soul’s Sacrifice
The Voodoo Revival Series
Book 1
By Victoria Flynn
A SOUL’S SACRIFICE
©2016 by Victoria Flynn
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and/or the publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
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, Carmen Gilmore,
Caitlin McCarthy, and Becca Vincenza, Suzette Flynn
Editor: Airicka’s Mystical Creations
Illustrator: Airicka’s Mystical Creations
Interior Design & Formatting: Airicka’s Mystical Creations
ISBN-13: 9781370278572
Published by Victoria Flynn
Also available in eBook and paperback publication
Dedication
To My Husband and Children for always supporting me in everything I do and to my family for always pushing me to chase my dreams.
Thank you.
Acknowledgement
Thank you to the readers! Without you none of this would be possible. A huge thanks to Becca Vincenza and Airicka Phoenix, who held my hand and walked me through the entire process of publishing this book and were my shoulders to cry on when things got hard and scary, even at one in the morning. This book wouldn’t have been possible without my husband and my kids, but also, my family. My parents pushed me to strive for my every dream. My grandmother, Carol, and my mother, Ruth, instilled a deep love of books in me. Without that love, I would never have come close to having a finished product. There are so many people to thank and if I haven’t listed you specifically, you have not been forgotten. You are so appreciated!
A SOUL’S SACRIFICE
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PROLOGUE
Sometimes, the bridges that are the hardest to cross, are the ones that lead to the most magical places.
-Unknown
“The girl has no idea who or what she is,” Drake said to Sir, with a pleased look on his face.
“Good, let’s keep it that way,” grumbled Sir, the hooded figure lurking in the shadows of the tall mausoleum, his thick creole accent filling the space around them. “Time is limited and the hour of the sacrificed approaches. There can be no interruptions. Do you understand?”
Drake looked back at the dark faceless figure who had been asked to be called Sir. “Yes Sir.” Drake nodded. He didn’t know the man, but what he did know was that he had great power. It emanated off him, indicating that he wasn’t someone to be crossed. The figure turned away from Drake and disappeared into the dense fog that had begun to filter in, leaving him alone in the city of the dead.
Drake knew what he had to do and there was much to be done. He couldn’t fail this mission. There was too much riding on it. His own life for that matter. Keeping the girl in the dark was going to be a necessity and he hoped that the old ghosts that called the St. Louis cemetery their home would stay quiet so that he wouldn’t have to worry about the girl being alerted.
Drake picked up his pace as he walked through the maze of tombs, pulling his hood up. The night air was wet with the humidity, but that night, it held a bone deep chill to it. It was so unlike the warm autumn nights, as if Mother Nature herself knew the sinister actions taking place. Drake found it amusing that the weather would so accurately reflect what was to come. He exited the necropolis with a sly smile upon his face, deciding now was the time for the fun to begin.
Maya Thibodeau, was the last thing he could worry about at such a vital time. She holds the power to topple everything down around my head and she doesn’t even know it. He pushed the thought away, not wanting to give life to such bullshit. She was a threat, one that may have to be eliminated.
Chapter ONE
Falling Down the Rabbit Hole
I could just barely hear their whispers. Damp skirts clung to my naked legs beneath the white shift dress. We stood on the edge of the Mississippi River that carved through the great city of New Orleans. Instead of seeing the sprawling city lights I was so accustomed to, there was nothing. The city skyline was missing and, in its place was a tiny settlement made up of brick buildings and wooden homes lit by the firelight of candles. The pair before me was dressed oddly, too. The mocha skinned woman wore a long dress, her skirts brushing the muddy ground as she pulled her blue knit shawl closer about her shoulders. Her hair was covered in a cloth wrapping. The gentleman was harder to make out. He was covered in a thick cloak to protect him from the elements. The city looked young still and not the aged metropolis that I was so familiar with. She looked like Anne Rice’s the Vampire Lestat had dressed her.
“She will be the one. Great power will fall to her. She will be yours, but it will come with a price.” The tall, cloaked man was shaking hands with the stout, black woman. The man turned, heading towards me but he slipped past me without ever noticing my presence. With his departure, the woman disappeared back into the city. The gentleman took a quick glance back towards where I stood and straightened abruptly like he had suddenly noticed my appearance. His dark look ignited a loud buzzing sound that reverberated through my mind, distracting me from the scene that was unfolding before me. It wouldn’t be ignored and grew louder until I was humming. The sound continued to pour out of me as he took each sure step closer to me. I panicked. My heart raced in time with the thundering vibrations. I swung my head from left to right, up and down, scanning frantically for the source of the racket. My stomach felt like it was wedged high up in my throat, making my breaths come out in short gasps. The thuds of his boots as each step drew him closer to me echoed in my head
Shit! Where was it?
He was upon me in a second. His cool, but strong hands dug into the fleshy parts of my arms. His grip burned. My throat rasped with my echoing screams, but the harsh wind that had come out of nowhere tore them away. No, it wasn’t wind. It was shadows, shadows with razor sharp talons that circled and began to tear at me and rip me to shreds.
I bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat and breathing hard. I scrubbed my face, trying to wake myself up a bit.
It had happened again.
The same dream that had been plaguing my nights for the last several months. It was the first recurring dream I’d ever had and it was a persistent one. I just wanted to know what it meant.
The scream of the alarm clock caught my attention as I became aware of my surroundings. I reached over to turn it off. Seven in the morning was staring me back in the face.
“Oh no... no, no, no! Not today!”
I was going to be late for the first day of my internship at the Audubon Nature Institute. I sprang up from bed and threw on the outfit I’d laid out the night before. I’d forgotten to adjust my settings so I could get up at six instead of seven like I was used to before graduation.
“I am so screwed.”
Rushing about my flat, bleary eyed and panicked, my hip caught on the corner of the counter as I ran into the kitchen alcove.
“Ow! Fuck!” I yelped, trying to retrieve my cup of coffee from my old Keurig. It took up the majority of the space on the counter top.
“This will have to do for breakfast,” I said to my cat, Moonbeam, as she sat on the kitchen table staring back at me
, waiting to be fed.
“Okay, okay! You can have some breakfast, too, but you will be waiting until dinner for the good stuff, missy,” I said, laying down her dish of Kitty Chow.
“I will be back around six so don’t throw any wild kitty parties,” I shouted, grabbing my purse and keys and heading for the front door.
I managed a quick glance at myself in the hall mirror before leaving. I wasn’t a complete disaster, at least for that I could be grateful, but I was far from being well put together. I had never considered myself to be bad looking, but I wasn’t one of those truly beautiful people. Standing at five foot seven inches, I was average in every sense of the word. Not fat, but curves in all the right places and my hair was usually unruly. My curly, dark brown hair was piled into a loose bun on top of my head. Green eyes that were rimmed in gold stared back at me, the only feature I can say I’m actually proud of. My mother had been gorgeous, fine boned and darkly exotic. She looked like she could’ve walked out of a Victoria’s Secret catalog. I had inherited her eyes, but the rest of me, I could attribute to my father’s side of the family. My button nose and full lips looked just like his. I quickly pushed down the pain that came with thinking about them.
I strode down the walkway to my car. I managed to apply a thin coat of gloss to my lips without tripping and landing face first on the cement. Which, unfortunately, was an all too common occurrence for me. Not many would consider me agile or coordinated. Minor injuries like bruised thighs or hips when they caught corners were normal for me.
Hopefully, I wasn’t going to end my budding career before it even got the chance to begin. I hopped into my rusty blue 1988 Honda CRX, hoping like hell today wouldn’t be her last day, even though it was a long time coming. If the leaky exhaust and oil wasn’t going to do her in, then the grinding gears and shoddy transmission definitely would. I turned over the ignition three times before she finally started up, sputtering the whole time.
I looked over my shoulder at the apartment before pulling away; Moonbeam sat at the window, watching me leave. Such an odd cat. Sometimes, I could have sworn she was a person trapped in a cat’s body. She appeared to be waiting for something that only she was privy to.
Moonbeam and I had found each other a little over a year ago while I was coming back from my morning run. She was there, sitting on my stoop like she had been waiting for me and me alone. We understood each other, needed each other even. She’d had fleas and was considerably underweight. It had been obvious at the time that she’d been living on the streets for a while. She was named for her gloriously black fur with a tiny white patch on her chest that resembled the moon’s silvery rays in the blackest of nights. It helped that she had a little air of mystery around her.
The drive to the Nature Institute went quickly as the heavy morning traffic was at a temporary lull. It was too early for the nine o’clock morning rush and too late for the six o’clock rush. Having a twenty-minute drive and a straight shot down St. Charles Avenue made me grateful that I paid the exorbitant amount of rent I did for an apartment closer to work.
Parking my car, I collected my things and made my way into the facility.
“You can do this! Just smile and, for the love of all things holy, don’t make a fool of yourself.” I repeated my mantra until I saw my new manager, Paul Hart.
Glancing up from his clipboard when I approached, he checked his watch. His stern demeanor made me inwardly cringe.
“You’re late, Ms. Thibodeau. The shift begins at eight o’clock and not five after.” Paul’s eyes were pinched and a frown marred his weathered face.
“I know, Mr. Hart. I’m so sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I really hope not. I would hate to have to let you go so soon. Shall we get started then?” He asked.
It made me feel like a small child who was just told how disappointed her parents were in her instead of being grounded.
“Absolutely.”
I followed Paul to my station where I would be training for the next several days in the Asian Carnivore department. I was effectively Paul’s shadow while he showed me the ropes cleaning enclosures and the finer points of specialized animal care. Nothing said, good morning quite like cleaning up Sun Bear poop. After getting settled in, the day flew by right up until lunch.
Mr. Hart had asked me to acquaint myself with the curator of the reptile department. He’d said something along the lines of, ‘you could learn a lot from her.’ So I found myself using my lunch break to explore the one part of the zoo that I hated the most-the snake exhibits, looking for a woman by the name of Zoey. Unfortunately for me, she was nowhere to be found. So there I stood, in the middle of the fake rock walls of Rattlesnake Canyon where I was surrounded by glass cases housing the vile slithering creatures.
My biggest fear in life was snakes. I’d been quite young when I’d watched my dog get bitten by a water moccasin. Lola, my four legged best friend, had suffered painfully before finally succumbing to the toxins ravaging her system. It was traumatic to my four-year-old self and the fear had stuck. It had grown over the years right along with me. It wasn’t just venomous snakes that I feared. It was all snakes.
My father had always told me that I needed to face and conquer my fears so, I found myself standing not more than a foot from the enclosure of the Diamondback rattlesnake. Face your fears, I told myself. That was all great in theory, but much, much harder in practice. The large reptile watched me with its grey, slit eyes as it coiled into itself, ready to strike. Face your fears. I stepped forward, inching my way towards the glass.
I didn’t see it coming when it struck, mouth wide, fangs gleaming with venom as it hit the glass with a thud. I stumbled backwards in surprise, colliding with the person behind me. The snake coiled back up ready for a repeat performance. Flushing, I twisted around, prepared to profusely apologize for my clumsiness. I looked over his thin frame, making sure I didn’t do any permanent damage.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to just run into you. I can’t believe I just-” I was in the middle of my apology when I stopped abruptly.
He didn’t reply immediately and instead just watched me intensely. Something bubbled up inside of me and threatened to escape as it slithered under my skin. It felt electric and it took my breath away.
“No problem at all, my dear.” His beady eyes roamed over my face. He had a hard edge to his voice that sent a shiver down my spine. There was something off about him. He looked normal, like a middle aged businessman taking in the local sights. His business suit looked crisp, but not expensive like so many of the folks in town looking to mix business with pleasure. His features were plain. He wouldn’t have been the kind of man that would have drawn attention in a crowd. Sandy, brown hair was gelled into place. His blue eyes were like ice. Maybe that was the problem. When you look at a person, their eyes can tell you everything. You catch glimpses of who they are, warm or distant, humorous or serious. This guy had none of that. He was just absent. He stood watching me with his hands folded behind his back.
The feeling inside me was overwhelming. I turned and ran away from him as fast as my legs would carry me. The exit was not far and I needed air to help soothe the storm roiling about within.
I bumped into a fellow employee. By the name printed on her nametag, I discovered that this was Zoey. Still unnerved by the snake and the guy, I couldn’t say much.
“Hey, I was looking for you,” I mumbled, peering towards the door I’d just come through.
“Hey, are you okay?” Zoey asked, checking me over. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I numbly nodded.
“Let’s get you some water and see if that helps, hmm?”
Zoey grabbed ahold of my shoulder and steered me to the café. Taking the initiative, she went ahead, and ordered us both sandwiches and sweet tea. Zoey wasted no time depositing our food and me at a table. Sitting down across from me, she dove into her turkey sandwich.
“Maya’s a rea
lly pretty name, not too common though. Was it a family name?”
I shook my head. “No, it means illusion. My mom used to say it was because there was always more to me than meets the eye. I think my middle name was a family name though.” I picked up my own sandwich and took a test bite. Not bad. It didn’t taste like the pre-packaged, cardboard tasting sandwiches I was used to.
“Maya Marie Thibodeau. I think Marie was a grandmother, but I’m not sure. I never met her,” I said in response to her raised eyebrows.
“That’s cool! My name just means life. I’m not really sure what my mom was thinking there. I can honestly say that I’m glad she didn’t use any family names. Gertrude or Agnes just wouldn’t fit well with all of this,” Zoey said, grandly gesturing to herself.
I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me. Zoey had a lot of personality packed into her small frame. Little by little, I could feel the tension leaving my bunched muscles. The distraction was working. My thoughts found a way to dislodge themselves from what had happened in the reptile house.
Mr. Hart had been right, Zoey was someone I could look up to and learn from. She was only thirty-five and had started her career not that long ago. It was refreshing to hear from a woman who had accomplished as much as she had in what was primarily a man’s world. Lunch zipped right by and then it was back to Asian Carnivores.
I went about the rest of my day, trying to push the encounter to the back of my mind. Before I knew it, it was five thirty and I was clocking out for the day.
“See you bright and early Wednesday, Ms. Thibodeau. And do please be on time,” Paul said as we walked toward the parking lot.
“Goodnight, Mr. Hart. See you then,” I replied.
The drive home was slow with roads being so congested with tourists filling the streets of the French Quarter. Drunken college kids stumbled around, having obviously just left one or several of the very popular bars lining Bourbon Street. It was the downside to living in the Quarter, but it was such a charming area that it was worth the tourists and noise.
