by Cherrie Mack
Giselle braced herself for the killing, but she couldn’t close her eyes. Unable to make it stop, but unwilling to run away, she shook with fury. She would no longer watch helplessly from afar. Channeling her rage in a way she never did before, she concentrated on the warlock, watching him closely through the veil. Shocking herself, Giselle began to chant in the ancient tongue of her coven. It seemed the emergent words were embedded into her psyche at birth, always there, but never realized. The veil dropped, the scene becoming pristine and clear.
All at once, she stood facing the warlock as if he stood a mere five feet from her. His attention moved from the traveler and it looked directly at her with glowing red irises. Threatened by its domineering glare, Giselle held tighter to her locket, while she came to terms with her ability to be in two places at once. Grappling with the impossibility of such a feat, the pungent smell of blood invaded her nostrils, churning her stomach. She stood on the fighting field, in the middle of the conflict. And this time, she would fight alongside the embattled warrior.
The traveler, taking advantage of the warlock’s momentary lapse of awareness, pulled a steely sword from his hip. Wielding it like a true warrior, he swiftly and precisely cut the hands from the beast’s body. Standing prisoner inside her own vision, Giselle witnessed the unspeakable end to the murderous creature. The warlock’s loud shrill gave her goose bumps as syrupy black blood seeped from its open wounds. Without its knifelike fingernails to wield as a weapon, the warlock’s eyes blazed red. Giselle knew what the warlock knew. His fate had been sealed.
The man stood behind the warlock, both hands anchored on the giant fangs, its head pressed against the mighty chest of the traveler, whose feet dug into the dirt for traction. With all his might, the man ripped the daggers from its mouth, leaving it to shrivel in agony. Within seconds, a mist began to rise from its dying carcass. One by one, Giselle witnessed the trapped spirits flying free when the evil was destroyed.
The traveler, who was weary and blood-soaked from his own wound, faced her. His eyes found hers and he smiled, tipping his hand to her in an old fashioned display of thanks.
Giselle’s eyes widened as she stared into lavender eyes. Eyes she knew. Eyes she saw each time she stared in a mirror. Who—who is this man? Confused, she cried out when the scene began to fade. “No. Come back. Who are you?”
The traveler who stood unmoving, watched her go. Then, just before her reality returned, she caught the slightest hint of a smile—a smile that eased her mind, expelled her fear. Suddenly, Giselle felt safe inside her vision. For the first time, she felt safe.
Recognizing the familiar, protective oaks surrounding her, Giselle crumpled to the ground while the last vestiges of her vision disappeared, and with it, any chance she had at some answers.
The last thing she saw before falling into unconsciousness was the concerned face of another man. A man she loved but would never be able to have. Julien. Giselle felt her emotions explode as she fell to the ground in a heap and sobbed until reality slipped away once more.
****
Julien carried Giselle in his arms to the porch, where Desiree and Simon waited. Julien looked at Desiree. “You mind telling me what the hell that was about? I can’t help her if you insist on keeping a childish secret.”
Desiree wasted no time. “You’re right. Giselle has the sight, Julien.”
Simon nodded his head. “Ah. Yes, it looked familiar. Very few have the gift of the veil.”
Julien raised an eyebrow. “I have heard of such a gift. But I never met anyone who possessed such a power before.”
Simon creased his brow. “I beg to differ. Jacques LaFeoure has the gift of the veil.”
“He does?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No, but I think I know why. It’s becoming clear to me now.”
Simon tilted his head in puzzlement. “What’s becoming clear?”
Julien glanced down at the beautiful young woman in his arms, the need to kiss her was overpowering. “I knew I saw some familiarity in her eyes. She has the eyes of her father. And if I’m right, Jacques LaFeoure has some explaining to do.”
Simon leaned over to study Giselle’s appearance and nodded his head in agreement. “Indeed. I see it now.” Just then, he heard Desiree shout. “They are getting close, look at the clouds. They found her.”
As Julien held Giselle in his arms, he looked up to the sky. “The clouds form in clusters. Shit. We must leave at first light.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Giselle woke up in the master suite. Night had fallen and darkness descended on Beaumont Plantation, but the light inside her burned brightly. Instead of watching helplessly as a great warrior was extinguished by evil, she had stepped in, fighting for his soul. And they had won. Feeling joy instead of dread, she sat upright, looking for Julien. She wanted to tell him everything now. She trusted him to help her.
She rubbed her temples. The weakness following her sight was better, but not gone. Shaky, she stood, slowly walking to the bedroom door. Turning the knob, she opened the door and looked out at the empty hallway. The house was quiet. She noticed a vast amount of doors, one of which was ajar, its soft light illuminating an otherwise darkened hallway.
Giselle quietly walked to the door. Peeking inside a room that clearly belonged to a little girl, she saw Julien. With his head in his hands, his body trembled. Studying him for just a moment, her eyes widened with concern. When Giselle recognized his grief, she rushed inside. Kneeling at Julien’s feet, she reached up, tugging his hands away from his face. Her heart ached for him as she softly cried. “I am so sorry for what happened to Joyal. It is my fault, all my doing. You have every right to hate me. I didn’t know I could help. I thought I was an abomination.”
She took a deep breath. “But now, I think I might be the real thing. With your help, I am hopeful we can free Joyal and all the trapped souls that went before her. I promise to fight with everything I have, and if I must go to my death, you will know I tried to give back to those who have lost so much.” She placed her head on his knees and hugged him around his legs, “Please, Julien, don’t hate me. I couldn’t bear it if you held contempt in your heart for me.”
Feeling his hand stroke her hair, his voice was soft and reassuring. “I can’t hate you, Giselle. Not anymore.”
She looked up at him. Tugging her up, he guided her to her knees, positioning her between his legs. A small smile lifted one side of his mouth when he looked into her eyes. “Tell me about your experience.”
Relief coursed through her, when she realized his acceptance of her plea. “You don’t know what I’ve seen. I thought I was helpless to stop it from happening, but I saved a traveler today. I helped. I really helped.”
He tilted his head. “How?”
She smiled. “I was there. In the vision. I was there when it happened. Usually, I see and can’t help. It’s happened already. But today, I refused to look away. My anger fueled my mind, I think, giving me the ancient invocation needed to unlock the shroud and drop the veil. I said the words as if I’d said them a thousand times before. It came so naturally, I shocked myself. Julien, I was in two places at the same time.”
Julien shook his head in disbelief, drawing a deep breath. “Wow. This is astounding news.”
“There is more.”
“Go on.”
“Well, when it was over, the traveler turned to me as if he could see me. He looked directly at me. I know it sounds impossible, but it’s true.”
“Tell me what he looked like.”
“He looked like me.”
He offered a sympathetic smile, “If I’m correct, the traveler you helped during your vision is Jacque LaFeoure. Your father, Giselle.”
“My father? How could a traveler be evil? They are inherently kind. Why would my mother say otherwise?”
“Simple. She lied.”
“My whole life I believed my soul was black. That one day I would turn into the very creature I loat
hed. I could have been living my life, learning my craft to protect my people. Why would she do this?”
“No one knows why, and it is not for us to ask. You would be a different person had you not been raised by Angelique. All I know is you possess a gentle, kind spirit. A spirit that might, given a different circumstance, have been lost, if you were raised as a royal.”
“Why wouldn’t my father raise me?”
“I suspect he can’t get near you.”
Giselle sat back on her heels. “I want to go to Cottonwood Landing and face my mother. I want answers.”
“Of course. We must travel at first light. But there’s more. The news is dark. We’ve been found, Your Highness. Your power has alerted Natas’ army.”
She offered him a half smile. “Your Highness?”
“You are the tenth power. Now that you believe, I believe. You must take your place at the head of the covens. Your subjects will address you as My Queen or Your Highness. Get used to it.”
“I think I’d rather be Little Witch. From you, anyway.” Giselle leaned up on her knees, their bodies close, and their lips a mere whisper away from a kiss. A loud knock startled them, ruining the moment. Julien stood, and reaching his hand down, helped her to her feet.
“Come in,” he said.
Desiree flounced inside. “I went to check on you and you were gone. I couldn’t wait to say congratulations, My Queen.” Halfway between a display of respect and humor, Desiree curtsied.
Giselle rolled her eyes. “Cut it out, Desiree. I just realized my power. Give me time to get used to the queen thing.”
“I don’t understand why I can’t go with you to Cottonwood Landing. I’m not interfering anymore.”
Julien grinned “Anymore?”
Simon entered the room. “No Cottonwood Landing.”
Desiree snorted. “Killjoy.”
Simon approached Giselle, kissing her hand. “My Queen.”
Turning to Desiree, he tipped up her chin. “I will escort you back to New Orleans, where I will watch over you until I get word from the master.”
Desiree smacked his hand away and twisted her mouth when he chuckled at her action. Grabbing Desiree by the arm, Giselle pulled her away from the two travelers.
As Simon and Julien discussed the best coordinates for traveling, Desiree whispered to Giselle. “I’m not going to interfere but … you need to kiss Julien.”
“I almost did until a little birdie came knocking.”
“I—I— Oh, merde. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Julien doesn’t love me and I need to stop hoping he will.”
“Giselle, you don’t understand—”
Julien interrupted them. “The sun will rise soon. We should get ready to go.”
As he stood staring at them, Desiree huffed. “Fine.” Turning back, she puckered her lips at Giselle and shifted her eyes in Julien’s direction. Giselle furrowed her brow.
****
As the first rays of sunlight shined down on Beaumont Plantation, Julien stared out over his beckoning estate. Not wanting to leave, he marveled at the changes to the grounds and the house. Resembling a great southern mansion of the past, he studied his home, committing everything he could to memory. This image is the one he wanted to take with him. If he ever was to return, it would be without Giselle. And for some odd reason, Julien knew his home would not take kindly to her absence.
It seemed as if the house and land were at peace with the occupants of his home. He knew it was ridiculous, but no matter what he did to repair the house, whether it be magic or plain hard work, neither worked. Giselle’s mere presence made the house a living, breathing entity, with feelings and emotions. With her here, clearly, his home was happy. Leaving this place, taking her away, was doling out its death sentence.
Giselle would live and reign in Cottonwood Landing. It was the rightful place for the queen. And its walls held royalty for centuries. She would marry there, birth babies there, and rule there. The young, naïve woman he met no longer existed. With her ability realized, she would continue to discover and hone her power. Teaching her would be simple now. But letting her go might not be. And he had no idea why.
Julien snapped out of his funk when he saw Giselle walking toward the main house. Just glancing at her, his icy heart was infused with warmth for the first time in years.
Get it together, Julien. She is the tenth power, the highest form of royalty. She needs a man just as powerful. Someone who can provide the love and tenderness you lack. Sighing, he threw his bag over his shoulder. Taking one final look around, he left the master suite, his uncertainty about ever returning weighing heavily upon his shoulders.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Saying goodbye was hard. Giselle hugged Desiree, who whispered in her ear. “Trust me, Giselle. Make sure you kiss Julien. Soon.”
“Okay Desiree. I’ll conjure up some rope and tie him down.”
“Ooh. Sounds like fun.”
Simon cleared his throat, signaling for Desiree.
Giselle jerked her chin toward Simon as he opened the car door for her.
Without acknowledging his kindness, Desiree sat down in the passenger seat. Staring down at her skirt, she busied herself with brushing off the tiny bit of lint that gathered on the material.
After Simon closed the door, he mumbled, “You’re welcome.”
Desiree ignored him and placed dark sunglasses over her eyes. She looked at Giselle and shrugged her shoulders.
Giselle walked over for one last goodbye. Leaning inside the car window, she hugged her friend. “You two all right?”
Desiree scoffed. “Simon is afraid of me, so he remains distant by acting like a douche.”
Simon snickered. “I’m not deaf, my angel.”
Giselle laughed at them. She never saw two people so oddly matched before. Yet, they were like missing pieces to a big puzzle. She placed her hand on the window frame. “Goodbye, Desiree. I will see you soon.”
Desiree covered her hand with her own. “You bet your ass you’ll see me soon. As soon as the Gestapo here lets me travel, I’ll come to you.”
Simon made himself comfortable in the tiny car. “Do not compare me to such ruthless humans. My form of punishment is much more enjoyable. Are you ready, love?”
Desiree pulled her glasses down the bridge of her nose and rolled her eyes at Giselle. Putting her glasses back in place, she turned to Simon. “I need to make a quick stop at one of the elders along the way. If it’s a problem, you can just drop me.”
“I will do no such thing. It would be my pleasure to accompany you.”
“Simon, do you think you could just shut up and drive?”
Giselle giggled and waved as they drove out of sight.
When Julien’s motorcycle came to a stop, he cut the engine. The silence was deafening when she lifted her eyes to the trees. It was as if the birds stopped rejoicing the start of a new day. Not a bee buzzed, not a breeze blew through the leaves, nor the flutter of an insect’s wings could be heard. Giselle felt every living thing on Beaumont Plantation come to a halt. It troubled and saddened her.
Julien helped her on the motorcycle. When the engine roared to life, he reached back and pulled Giselle’s arms around his waist, shouting over the engine. “Hang on, Little Witch. I wouldn’t want you to fall on your royal ass.”
Holding him tight, she shouted back. “Believe me, Julien. I’ll hang onto you as long as I can.” When they sped down the road leading away from the old majestic plantation, Giselle was unable to stop her tears. She pressed her forehead to his back. Feeling as though they were driving away from her destiny instead of toward it, she closed her eyes. Giselle did not see the old oaks dip their branches, the grass brown and the flowers droop toward earth in their wake. She didn’t realize, as she silently wept, that Beaumont Plantation was weeping, too.
****
Riding on the back of a motorcycle for an hour was exhilarating but after five hours, Giselle was exhausted. She felt
cramped in parts of her body she didn’t even know existed and needed to stop to stretch her limbs. She tapped on Julien’s shoulder, yelling above the noisy roar of the engine. “We have to take a break. I’m getting very hungry.” His only response was a nod.
After pulling into a roadside diner, she was relieved to get off the motorcycle. With her legs cramped, her back achy and her but numb, she stretched out. She watched Julien free himself from his helmet, shaking out his shoulder-length, golden hair. He was completely mesmerizing, especially doing side bends in his perfectly fitted jeans. Realizing she wouldn’t have her hands on him anytime soon, she sighed. She rather liked her arms around his waist and her breasts pressed against his back.
“Let’s grab a bite, Little Witch.”
“Sounds good. I’m starved.”
Inside, the diner was empty except for one person, and the energy was dark making Giselle uneasy. Julien, sniffing at the air like a bloodhound tracking a scent, looked nervous. Jumpy. It had her concerned. They were shown to a corner booth by a large window. He pulled up the blinds to reveal an angry sky. But before sliding into the seat, he leaned over, whispering in her ear.
“Something is not right, Little Witch. You need to be prepared.”
“I feel it, too. But I haven’t practiced that much. I don’t know what to do.”
“Trust in yourself, Giselle. And in me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Julien glanced out the window again, looking up at the sky. “Giselle, can you ride a horse?”
“Huh?”
He pulled her by the hand. Just as they reached the exit, the double doors flew open. The wind churned inside, sending dishes crashing to the floor. Black clouds could be seen in clusters as they swirled into funnels threatening to scoop up everything in their path. She felt the fury in the air when the warlock entered the diner. Julien’s demeanor immediately changed. He stood ready, feet apart, chest out. She could see his jaw muscles tighten, his fists clench. He was ready to battle the evil threatening her safety. Quickly pulling her behind him in a protective stance, he faced the menacing creature.
