A Soul's Sacrifice (Voodoo Revival Series Book 1)

by Unknown

  Weird. So, so weird.

  I scampered off after Rhys and as it turned out the house was just as small on the outside as it was on the inside because it was not difficult to find him. The house only contained two small bedrooms, a small living room that was covered in books and different stones and trinkets, and the smallest bathroom that I had ever seen in my life consisting of a shower, toilet, and a sink all crammed into a bathroom the size of a closet. Rhys was waiting for me in the first bedroom that I came across, casually sprawled on the bed that took up nearly the entire space of the room. He had a smirk plastered on his handsome face and was completely at ease with his surroundings. The room reminded me a lot of his personality and then I realized it must have been his bedroom when he lived there as a young child.

  “Is this your room?” Suddenly, I felt uncharacteristically shy. His eyes raked over me like I was naked and, the more I thought about it, the more the heat in my belly grew. I could revel in the feeling of being desired by this gorgeous man before me. His eyes raked over my body undressing me the whole way.

  “Yes, it was.” His voice was low and husky. Oh yeah, I was sure I was getting to him and the feeling was mutual. This man was worming his way under my skin.

  “Will we both be staying in here?” I asked.

  My question must have brought him back to the present moment because his demeanor did a complete one-eighty. He sat up, and seemed displeased with himself.

  “No, I’ll be sleeping on the couch, but I’m a light sleeper so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to come get me.” Rhys started towards the door and seemed like he was second guessing himself with every step he took.

  I wanted him to stay. That feeling of wanting a man so fiercely was something I was entirely unfamiliar with.

  Even my ex-boyfriend, Michael, had never lit my fires like that. Mike was fairly selfish in bed. It always just seemed mechanical and like it was just a mad rush for the end zone and it was made worse by the fact that he never lasted nearly long enough for my liking anyways. The fact that he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants didn’t help matters. It had become an unhealthy relationship by that point though. I wasn’t even mad when he left with my roommate, at least not over the fact that he hadn’t been faithful. I was pissed because I never saw it coming and because I had turned him into a crutch that I was depending on after my parents died. Well, that was the way my psychiatrist explained it anyway.

  Rhys stopped in the doorway and peeked over his shoulder at me. His eyes bored straight into my soul, laying me bare. A shiver shot down my spine and I gasped. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned, leaving me bereft of his presence. His footsteps creaked the floorboards and I heard his entire journey away from me. Every step seemed final like he was putting distance between us, more than just physically. I felt his absence keenly, almost like I was incomplete without him being near. I shouldn’t have felt that way. He wasn’t mine and I wasn’t his. I had built up walls around my heart after Mike had left and I knew it. In fact, I had very actively done it. If I never let anyone close enough to hurt me, then I would never feel as alone as I had after Mike left. I had Angie, did I really need to expand my circle of trust to include someone else? Based on how I was feeling with Angie’s kidnapping, I thought not, though dammit if Rhys wasn’t tempting. I was going to have to try hard to distance myself from him. He’d breached my inner walls too easily to allow him to get close enough. I knew his touch would be like an addiction to me and addictions never led anywhere good. I would end up hurt and alone and that was something I couldn’t go through again, because if I did, I wasn’t sure that I would survive it.

  I pushed my bag off of the bed and threw myself down on the bed. I was completely exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically. It had been my experience that, when you couldn’t drink problems away, it was fairly helpful to just sleep and push things away for a few hours. Things were much clearer when you woke up and had a fresh head to tackle a problem with. There was an old rocking chair in the corner of the room with a blue and white knitted blanket draped across the seat. The sunlight had long since faded to darkness and I was tired, but I wasn’t comfortable enough to climb under covers in an unfamiliar bed. I rose from my perch to grab the blanket and climbed back up to settle into the small, overly soft bed. I noticed the sounds of nightlife in the swamp. Cicadas buzzing, owls screeched occasionally, although it was the frogs that made the swamp sound vibrant.

  These were sounds I had never had the privilege to hear living in the middle of the city. Tourists, party goers, jazz bands, and cars were my nightly serenade, but I had long since drowned most of that out. Mardi Gras and a handful of other festivals were the only things that usually kept me up at night anymore. People got particularly rowdy at any New Orleans festival. The sounds of actual wildlife were a wonder to me, but it was extremely loud. There was no way that I would be able to sleep with all of that noise. The longer I laid there listening to the sounds in the dark, the louder they became until it seemed like they were there in the room screaming at me. It was that moment in which I was about to lose my mind that Mama Yansa made her entrance into the small bedroom. I hadn’t even heard her approaching.

  The old woman was carrying a small wooden tray with a large mug of tea on it. She crossed the narrow space that was not taken up by furniture and set it on the table beside the bed. Turning to leave, she stopped and patted me on the arm.

  “Don’t worry, da tea will help ya sleep. Ya won’t even notice the noises anymore. Put ya right out. And do give some mo’ thought to where ya come from. Those roots gone help you a lot in the comin’ battles,” she said, and winked.

  “How did you know? About the noise bothering me, I mean? And what battles? What does that even mean?”

  “I know a lot of things. I see a lot of things. Can’t hide it from dis old woman and we can explain everything in da mornin’. You gone have ta fight to get ya friend back,” she said cryptically. What the hell did that mean? Was she spying on me? “Settle down, child. Drink ya tea and get some rest. You gone need it.” And with that the old woman left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  There was a good chance that I was just losing my mind. These people were so weird. It didn’t seem like real life, especially considering the extraordinary events of the past several days. Sleep, yeah, that was what I needed. Taking up the mug of steaming tea, I brought it to my nose. It smelled heavily of chamomile and mint leaves, but there was an underlying scent that I couldn’t quite place. Apprehensively, I put the mug to my mouth and sipped the contents promptly burning the shit out of my mouth.

  “Fuck! Ouuuch!” I hissed. My tongue was still tingling with the burn from the liquid. Just my damn luck.

  Sitting there in the dark, blowing on the steaming mug, I contemplated the shambles that currently was my life. No parents, no job, Angie was missing. I felt like I had failed in the biggest way possible and that I had let everyone down. Though, I wasn’t quite sure how long I sat there, the tea wasn’t scalding anymore by the time I came back to the present.

  It had a sweet and herbal taste. There were subtle notes of honey to account for the sweetness. Just like the scent that wafted from the brown liquid, there was a taste of something bitter that I couldn’t place. It left a harsh aftertaste in my mouth, but I finished the mug that had been given to me and settled down into the bed. Moonbeam jumped on the bed and pressed herself against the back of my head and I laid there, giving me her silent support and a reminder that I wasn’t alone. I reached up and scratched her head, behind her ears until the loud purring I was so used to was echoing in the small space that I had temporarily claimed for my own. My thoughts wandered briefly. Mama Yansa had told me to try to find my roots, to think about where I came from. Thinking of the family I knew nothing about and all the history that had made me, I fell into a deep, fitful sleep.

  I was standing in a spacious parlor with an elegant woman no more than thirty years old sitting in front of me. My hands we
re deftly braiding, curling, and weaving her hair into an elegant masterpiece to match her dress. The dress was extravagant, light and airy. Its pale blue color reminded me of the skies in the early morning on a clear day and it seemed as weightless as a cloud. It would need to be to withstand that heat. My God! The heat was stifling! Watching the reflections of the woman in the mirror, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. A black woman wearing an African styled hair wrap and a black dress was standing there working on the patron’s hair and staring at me. That couldn’t be right because I was the one that was doing it. Eyeing my own hands in confusion, I realized it was no mistake. I was that black woman weaving hair like a pro.

  “Marie, plusiers tresses s’il vous plait. More braids, please, Marie,” the woman seated in front of me said while admiring herself in the glassy surface of the mirror. Oh! She was talking to me! Marie? Who the hell was Marie?

  “Yes m’dame Lisette,” I answered demurely and not of my own volition. Okay, so, I was not myself and I had no control over what I did or said. And how did I understand French? This must’ve been a dream, but it was, by far, the most realistic dream I’d ever had.

  As requested, I weaved more braids into the woman’s hair, interlacing it with silk ribbons of a deep red to create a magnificent work of art. If I hadn’t been sure before that this was a dream, the fact that I was doing all of this with hair would’ve cemented the idea because there was no way I could do this. I just didn’t have those kinds of skills.

  “Marie, I must request your utmost confidence with a matter that is quite delicate,” Lisette whispered to me in her sweet French tongue.

  “Of course m’dame. anything you wish.” I wasn’t sure I was going to like where this was going. My conscience was screaming at me, “Don’t Do It!!”

  “Monsieur Claiborne. I want him, but he is interested in another. I must sway his opinion or paint her in an unflattering light. Papa says that I must marry well or he will have to pick a man for me.”

  “Monsieur Claiborne, the governor?” I clarified.

  “Oui.”

  “What of another? Monsieur Lafayette is a wealthy land owner recently widowed. He is handsome, too,” I suggested. It was an odd sensation watching yourself as though you are in a movie. That was compounded by not having any knowledge of who or what situation was which you are talking about.

  Lisette’s eyes widened and I could tell that it was a valid suggestion and that she had not yet considered it herself.

  “What a wonderful idea, Marie! You must help! Can you make me one of your concoctions? Or perhaps one of your spelled necklaces that I can hide beneath my undergarments?” she whispered excitedly.

  “Yes m’dame. I will have something for you the day after tomorrow. These things take time you know. I think Monsieur Lafayette will only need light persuading,” I answered.

  The longer I looked in the mirror at the body I was inhabiting, the stronger the feeling became that I had seen this woman somewhere before but from where I wasn’t sure.

  A dark skinned gentleman entered the parlor just then and addressed me.

  “Madame Laveaux, Monsieur Glapion is here to escort you home for the day,” The house man said before he turned and left the room. Holy shit! I knew exactly who the black woman was that I was inhabiting. How could I have not realized it before? Everyone in New Orleans knew who she was. She ran New Orleans for years and was said to be a powerful magic practitioner but that stuff was just a legend right? It wasn’t real. The woman staring back at me in that grand mirror was the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans herself, Marie Laveau.

  I woke with a start and sat upright immediately. It took me a few moments to remember where I was and take in the room around me. Then I remembered Marie. Thank God! It was just a dream. I could still feel the sweltering heat of the stately parlor in Mademoiselle Lisette’s home. I hadn’t ever had a dream like that before. Was it the tea Mama Yansa had given me? Did she fucking drug me? Was that the distinctly unknown ingredient in the tea? A damn hallucinogenic tea? I had to keep reminding myself that I did not know these people and what they might want from me. And they did want something. Otherwise, why drag me out into the middle of nowhere in the swamp? The questions ran through my mind in quick succession, dragging me further and further into a dark place. The more I thought about it the madder I got. I was working myself into a right state of fury. I wanted to march out there and confront the pair, and demand answers. Although, I wasn’t sure that it would actually get me anywhere.

  The feeling that the dream had somehow been incredibly important wouldn’t leave me. Why would watching Marie Laveau style a high class woman’s hair be important? There were too many factors to make sense of and not nearly enough time to do it.

  The sound of floor boards creaking in the short hallway caught my attention. They were distinctly the heavy thuds of boots on wood. Rhys. Oh shit! This wasn’t good. The boots paused outside my door before retreating back the way they’d come. A full length mirror stood tall in the corner of the room and I had caught a glimpse of myself. Disheveled and appearing every bit like a hot mess wasn’t really how I wanted Adonis in the flesh to see me. Not that it would have been any different or any better than when he was taking care of me when I was passed out. Jeez, that was embarrassing! I was surprised that my awesome bed head hadn’t scared him off that morning. Rhys was going to be back. I was sure. It had sounded like he was coming into my room but had decided against it. He’d likely come to his final decision and gone back. Knowing that, I grabbed my bag off of the floor and fished the brush out of it. I ran it through my knotted locks. A hot shower was a luxury I didn’t think I would have there. It would be wonderful to wash off the grime of yesterday’s travels. A shower had begun to sound necessary before I would face Rhys and Mama Yansa with whatever major revelations they would lay on me. It would be my brief reprieve from reality.

  Pulling out a change of clothes from the bag, I laid them out neatly on the bed and crept to the door, trying to avoid making any of the rickety floorboards creak. Slowly turning the brass doorknob, I pulled the old door open, wary of the hinges that desperately needed to be greased. The bathroom was across the hall and the door was open. I wouldn’t have to wait. In two steps, well, leaps really, and managing to avoid any loose boards, I was in the bathroom and hadn’t drawn anyone’s attention. Swinging the door shut, I reached forward I twisted the lever in the shower to turn on the cascade of water. The pipes rattled throughout the entire house. Well, there went any kind of hope of being discrete. After a moment of the water heating up, steam began to fill the tiny room and I slipped under the water. Oh God! It felt amazing. There was a crudely made bar of soap resting on a tiny perch along with an opaque blue bottle. It must be the shampoo. I removed the lid and lifted the bottle to my nose. The contents smelled of jasmine and magnolias. Within seconds, I had my hair worked into a thick lather before stepping under the steaming stream to wash away everything. Away from prying eyes, I could grieve for my failures. And grieve I did. I cried for Angie, who could be dealing with God knows what, that is if she was still alive and that psychopath hadn’t killed her. I cried for Carly, who had paid the ultimate price just for being with the wrong guy for a single night. One tiny lapse in judgment and she was gone, completely butchered and put on display. I cried for my parents, whose guidance I desperately needed and I cried for me, whose naivety was shattered beyond repair. My eyes had been opened to a world of chaos that I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know about. Not wanting to alert the others within the house, I was as quiet as I could manage, I knew that the heavy sobs escaping from my chest could be heard by everyone. After all of the tears I could produce had fallen, the water turned cold and I knew it was time to get out, face the world and all of the unknowns that seemed to be closing in on me. Suffocating me.

  Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed a towel and began scrubbing myself dry. Nobody had come to check on me yet. I could make the mad dash back to my room and get dressed. Once I
wrapped myself snugly in the coarse material, I swung the door open, ready to leap back to my room. I clutched the towel to me, and sprang through the door only to run face first into a masculine broad, solid chest. Startled, I released my tight grip on the fabric that covered my nakedness. The towel fell and gathered around my feet as I let out a loud squeak. As I stepped back, I realized it was Rhys who was just as startled by me, he recovered quickly. I was stunned and just standing there. His eyes dipped down, taking in my nakedness and roving over my breasts and then lower. There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes. He kept alternating between flexing and balling up his fists at his sides. I think it was to keep himself from reaching out and caressing my boobs. He took a step forward and I came to my senses. I crouched down and grabbed up my towel and covered myself.

  “What are you doing? Get out! Now!” I yelled, clutching the towel tighter to me.

  My reaction surprised me. In truth, I liked his attention and I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and ravage me. That was precisely what scared me and spurred on my exaggerated reaction. Dammit, Angie was right. It had been too long since I had been with a guy and had a decent orgasm. Vibrators were great and all, but they just weren’t the same as the real thing, like when they set your body soaring and really curl your toes. Vibrators lacked in the intimacy department.

  His eyes darkened and feasted on every inch of flesh that was revealed to him. Abruptly, he turned and left me standing in the doorway, naked and near trembling. It was obvious that he was angry and likely frustrated with my hot and cold reactions to him. I didn’t want to want him, to become vulnerable to him that way, and yet the man could make my toes curl with just a look. He was going to make things much harder than initially anticipated. I gathered my wits about myself and made my way back to my room. I locked the door behind me. Quickly, I threw on the clothes I’d gathered, scrubbed my teeth, and re-brushed my hair. I had to face them now and demand answers. Angie was running out of time and I couldn’t handle more of this sitting around and not making any kind of progress. Throwing on my boots, I steeled myself against the truths I was about to face. It was about damn time I put on my big girl pants and figured shit out.