The pained expression on Odette’s face popped the bubble of elation in his chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Odette took a deep breath and blew it out hard. “I am thrilled that you and your wolf got the soulmate issue worked out, but we’ve got a bigger problem. With a piece of you stuck in limbo like this, the cycle is going to keep repeating forever. And…” She cast her gaze to her lap.
“And?”
“If Serafine killed Nicolas, then she didn’t die in his arms. But in every life I’ve regressed to, I did die in your arms. What if Nicolas is summoning the monster to kill me every time I reincarnate to get even with me?”
“No.” The word left his lips before the thought formed in his mind. “Nicolas loves Serafine. He would never do anything like that.”
“I don’t know James. It would explain—”
“No, he wouldn’t. He was inside me. I felt what he felt…nothing less than utter adoration. He’s not doing this.” And he refused to let Odette even consider it. Her research was wrong.
Natasha pulled a chair next to the couch and sat down. “I think it’s time we found out what really happened to Nicolas and Serafine.”
Odette squeezed his hand. “Are you still up for that past-life regression? It will be painful.”
“Ain’t nothing a werewolf can’t handle, right?” Natasha winked.
James straightened his spine. He’d relive a thousand deaths before he’d allow anyone to harm his fated mate. “Bring it on.”
Natasha instructed James to lie on the sofa, and she scurried to the cupboard and gathered jars of herbs. Odette sat on the edge of the cushion next to him, resting both her hands on his chest.
He placed his hands over hers and squeezed them. “Thank you for making that happen.” Tugging a hand to his lips, he kissed her palm. “I’m sorry for not realizing you and the dream woman were the same person. Even though she doesn’t look like you, it seems so obvious now.”
“There was no way for you to know. Nicolas doesn’t look like you either. Souls don’t change, but appearances do.” Her brow pinched, concern filling her gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this? You’ll feel your death…and mine…like it’s really happening.”
“Death doesn’t scare me.”
“It doesn’t scare me either, but dying sure as hell does. Nicolas was stabbed in the chest and beheaded, and I…Serafine did it.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek and studied her, trying to imagine a situation where Odette would be inclined to murder him. She wouldn’t. “I don’t think she did it.”
“But the police report said—”
“We’ll soon find out.” Natasha handed him a mug of liquid. Rising onto his elbow, he sniffed the contents. “This smells like rum.”
“Just a splash to help you relax. The herbs will open your mind. Drink up.” The Mambo waved her hand, indicating he should lift the cup to his mouth.
He cringed as he swallowed the bitter liquid. It burned on its way down to his stomach like it was taking a layer of his esophagus with it. “Remind me never to order that in a bar.”
Natasha dragged another chair to the end of the couch near his head and ordered Odette to sit. He reached for his fate-bound’s hand as she sank into the seat, but she pulled from his grasp.
“My energy could affect your visions. I’ll be here, but we can’t touch while you’re regressing.”
“Okay.” He smiled, but it probably didn’t mask the worry churning in his gut. He was about to watch his fate-bound die.
“I’m not going to leave you, and you’ll be in control the whole time.” Odette half-smiled, the uncertainty in her eyes disheartening.
He let out a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m not scared.”
“You don’t have to wear that mask for me. I’d be terrified.”
Really reassuring words from the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. He nodded and swallowed the thickness from his throat.
“If it gets unbearable, you can open your eyes and bring yourself to the present whenever you want. But the longer you can stay under, the more information you’ll gather.” She kissed his forehead and leaned back in her chair, out of his reach.
Natasha closed her eyes and mumbled something in a language he didn’t understand. He tilted his head to look at Odette, and his vision swam. “What’s she saying?”
“It’s a Haitian Creole prayer to Papa Legba, the guardian of the crossroads. When she’s done, she’ll guide you through a meditation and into your past life. Close your eyes and relax.”
He settled into the cushion and let his lids drift shut. Whatever was in that drink made his limbs feel heavy, and the tension drained from his muscles. As he lay there, listening to the Mambo’s rhythmic prayer, he sank deeper and deeper into the couch, until he couldn’t tell where his body ended and the fabric began.
The air around him grew heavy, pressing into him as the scents of patchouli and something sharp that he didn’t recognize filled the room. Natasha’s chanting quieted, and her voice drifted toward him, lightening the pressure on his body. “Clear your mind of everything but the color blue—so dark it’s almost black. Let your mind drift into your subconscious and take a deep, cleansing breath with me.”
The Mambo inhaled, and James followed her lead, focusing on the color, until liquid warmth flowed through his veins, melting him into an altered state.
“Imagine a pin-prick of light in the corner of the blue.” Natasha’s voice seemed to come from somewhere inside his mind…all around him, but from nowhere at the same time. “As the light brightens, I want you to focus on Odette’s house. Not as it is now, but as it was when you were there long ago.”
The scene in his mind brightened into crisp focus. He stood in the foyer of the house on Esplanade. Dark-green paper with intricate gold designs covered the walls, and a crystal chandelier—not unlike the one he’d recently installed—glittered in the rays of the setting sun entering through the open door.
“What do you see, James?” Natasha’s voice whispered in his mind.
He worked his jaw, prying his lips apart through the sluggishness in his muscles. “I’m in the house.”
“What time period is it? Present day?”
Casting his gaze into the living room, he focused on the brick fireplace. A small clock sat on the mantle, but Odette’s altar wasn’t there. A pair of intricately-carved, dark-wood chairs with deep-red upholstery faced the hearth, and a chaise lounge sat beneath the window. “No. It’s in the past.”
“Focus on Serafine, the woman from your dreams. Try to bring her into the picture.”
Shuffling sounded at the top of the stairs, and then she appeared, a vision of beauty in a maroon ball gown. She’d swept her hair up into a twist, and shiny, dark curls spiraled from her temples to brush her dark-brown shoulders. A timid smile played on her lips as she descended the steps, and James’s chest tightened, so much love filling him he felt like he’d burst from the pressure.
Serafine may have started as his servant, but Nicolas would have moved heaven and Earth for this woman.
“Do you see her?” Natasha asked.
“Yes.” His voice cracked.
“Let the scene play out. See what information you can gather.”
He took a deep breath and let his thoughts slip away, focusing on the woman in his mind and the emotions intensifying in his heart.
As Serafine reached the bottom floor, he kissed her hand and laced it into the crook of his arm. “We do not want to be late for the party, mon cher.”
She hesitated. “I’m still not sure this is the best idea. It will not be good for your reputation.”
“I don’t give a damn about my reputation.” He toyed with the ring on her finger. “You are to be my mate. My wife.”
“People will talk.”
“Then let them talk, mon cher.” He twirled a curl around his finger and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “They know better than to cross me.”
With Natasha’s guidance, James followed the scene as Nicolas and Serafine climbed into a carriage that took them to a mansion down the road. Painted bright blue, with white gingerbread trim, the two-story house boasted a wrap-around porch and a grand gallery on the second floor.
With Serafine on his arm, Nicolas stepped through the doorway, and a hush fell across the crowd. A few dozen people in suits and gowns paused to stare as he led his fated mate deeper into the house.
Serafine tightened her grip on his arm. “They are staring at me.”
“Of course they are. You are the most beautiful woman in the room.” He picked up two glasses of champagne and offered her one.
“A word, brother.” A stocky man with blond hair and deep-blue eyes glared at him and jerked his head to indicate he should follow.
Antoine.
“One moment, mon cher. Let me see what he wants.” He kissed her hand, and her eyes widened as she swallowed hard. With a tiny nod, she stepped away from him, and he followed his brother into the next room.
“How dare you bring her here?” Antoine spoke through clenched teeth, the muscles in his neck tight like cords. “Are you trying to ruin everything we have worked for?”
He lifted his chin, narrowing his eyes. “Serafine is my fate-bound. You and everyone else will have to get used to it sooner or later.”
Antoine glanced through the doorway and leaned toward him, lowering his voice. “She is your servant.”
“She is my fiancée.”
His brother narrowed his eyes, and one of them twitched with his agitation. “We are to be the first family in New Orleans. You are to be alpha. You cannot take her as your mate.”
Nicolas downed his champagne in one gulp and set the glass on a table. “Her father was a were. I will not taint the bloodline.”
Antoine stepped closer, taking him by the arm. “Her mother was a slave.”
He jerked from his brother’s grip, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “I am aware of her lineage.” He turned to leave the room.
“You will ruin us, bringing attention to yourself like this. The alpha cannot afford to be in the human spotlight.”
Nicolas stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I don’t care the cost. The full moon is tomorrow, and we will become mates. You cannot stop this.”
James gasped. “Nicolas was alpha.” His lids fluttered, his head shaking as he tried to open his eyes.
“Stay under.” Odette’s voice calmed him, caressing his temples, and sending a wave of relaxation through his body. “Try to go to the night of their deaths. We need to know what happened.”
With a long exhale, James let his mind drift back in time.
A bedroom. Serafine in a long, white nightgown. He lay next to her, his mind spinning with thoughts. His brother was right, but Nicolas didn’t care the consequence. Serafine was his fate-bound; they would make this work.
Nicolas slipped into a dream, rolling onto his back as the sound of boot heels thudding on the floor echoed somewhere in his mind. Serafine gasped, and as the bed jerked, Nicolas awoke.
His fate-bound’s scream ripped through the night, dragging him into full consciousness, and he sat up, shock not allowing him to comprehend what was happening. Antoine stood over Serafine, his bloody dagger raising and lowering into her heart.
Bright-red blood pooled from her chest, staining her gown as life drained from the wound. Searing pain tore through Nicolas’s heart, shredding him.
Agony. Betrayal.
He scooped her into his arms as Antoine backed against the wall, his chest heaving. “My sweet Serafine.” A sob lodged in his throat, and he swept the matted hair from her face. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, taking her life force with it. Her head fell back, her eyes wide, the light in them gone. His entire world shattered into nothingness, and hot tears trailed down his cheeks as he lifted his gaze to his treacherous brother.
Numb with grief, he pushed the question through the thickness in his throat. “Why?”
“I will not have you ruining our lives over a woman.” Fear flashed in Antoine’s eyes, and he gripped the dagger tighter. “You will thank me for this when the pack is formed.”
“Thank you?” Laying his fate-bound onto the mattress, he focused on the single spark of anger burning in his soul. The only sensation palpable through the emptiness of his despair. He stoked the flame until his rage consumed him, vengeance his sole focus.
He rose from the bed, a growl rolling up from his chest as he called on his beast. His brother would pay for what he had done. But in his grief, he’d grown numb. As he leaped toward Antoine, he failed to shift. His brother plunged the dagger into his chest, piercing his heart.
Falling backward onto the bed, he gasped for breath, but the fatal puncture refused to give him air. Searing pain spread through his body, and he choked on his own blood as Antoine jerked the knife from his chest and brought it down on his throat.
“Serafine!” James shot up, raking in a ragged breath and grasping for his fate-bound. His vision swam, and nausea lurched in his stomach, making him double over.
“James.” Odette sat next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, running her hand across his back. “Breathe, honey. Just breathe.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, he sucked in a breath, then another, until his head stopped spinning and he straightened. Blinking his gaze into focus, he found Natasha across the room, grinding herbs into another drink.
He looked at Odette, and cool relief flooded his veins, spiraling up his chest and coming out as something between a sob and a laugh.
Holding his face in her hands, she wiped the dampness from his cheeks and kissed his forehead. “Are you okay?”
He rubbed his chest where the knife had been, and a faint burning sensation spread across his skin. “I’m…fine. Are you…? That was intense.”
Natasha handed him a cup. “This will help with the nausea and the fog in your brain.”
He sipped the warm licorice-flavored liquid and leaned into Odette’s side. Her presence grounded him, bringing him fully back to the present as the drink eased the physical strain the regression had put on his body. He drained the cup, and Natasha returned it to the counter.
Odette rested her hand on his thigh. “Did you see the monster?”
“It wasn’t a monster. It was his brother. Antoine killed both of them.” He explained what he’d seen in his vision.
“You were right then.” She shook her head. “Serafine was innocent, yet she was blamed for it all. Typical.”
“There’s got to be more to the story, though.” James rubbed his throat, trying to relieve the burning sensation left over from his regression. “The Dubois didn’t become the first family. The Masons did.”
She frowned. “If Nicolas was the shifter, Antoine couldn’t have become alpha, could he? A second-born alpha? Is that possible?”
James raked a hand through his hair. “If a first-born dies prematurely, the shifter magic in the second-born is triggered. Antoine should have inherited the ability when Nicolas died, and he should have become alpha. They were the first werewolves to inhabit New Orleans.”
Odette’s eyes widened. “But Nicolas’s soul fractured. Part of him has been stuck in the house since his murder.”
“And that could have kept Antoine from inheriting the ability to shift.” It made sense, but it didn’t explain the murders recurring in every life. “What happened to Antoine afterward? Did you find anything in your research?”
“There was nothing about Antoine after that. He seemed to have disappeared.”
“Werewolves aren’t immortal, so we know he’s not still alive. Could his ghost be doing this?”
She shook her head. “In my regressions, the killer was always solid. A ghost can’t strangle someone unless it’s getting help from the living.”
“So someone living is involved?”
“You know who could answer these questions.” Natasha crossed her arms and lifted a brow at Od
ette. “I’ll set up another ceremony for tonight, but you’re gonna have to get right with your met tet if you want him to show.”
Odette groaned and leaned into James’s side.
“Unless you’re both ready to join the Baron on the other side, you’ve got work to do.”
James cut his gaze between the women. “How do you get right with Baron Samedi?”
Odette took in a deep breath and blew it out hard. “I’m going to need your help.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Hey.” James reached across the console and pried Odette’s hand from its death-grip on the steering wheel. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to her ice-cold fingers. “You’re going to be okay. I don’t think Baron Samedi would give you powers he didn’t think you could control.”
“I know.” Her voice was a whisper over the lump in her throat. How many times had the Mambo said those same words? She chewed her bottom lip and stared out the windshield at the cemetery across the street. Growing up, her mom brought her here every Saturday to show their respects for the Baron and leave him offerings at the gate. As an adult, she’d paid tribute here once, the day she moved back to the city, and she hadn’t returned since.
She’d been gone for far too long. Scared for too long too. Not just scared of her powers and what she was capable of doing with them, but afraid of life. She was living on borrowed time, and she’d spent so much of it trying to control everything that she’d forgotten what a gift life was. Especially her life.
It was time she made amends with the giver.
She looked at her fingers entwined with James’s and focused on the magic seeping from his skin. Magic that blended so well with her own it felt as if her soul connected to his. With this man, she was whole, and she would do whatever it took to make him whole too.
Her stomach soured at the thought of what she would probably have to do. Only with the Baron could she mend the fracture in James’s soul, and to do that, he’d…
“Are you ready?” James squeezed her hand and rested his fingers on the door latch. He caught her gaze, and the deep blue of his eyes grounded her. She could do this.
A Deal with Death Page 17
