A Deal with Death

by Carrie Pulkinen

  They could do it together.

  “As I’ll ever be.” She slid out of the car.

  Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she took his hand, and they darted across the street. James strolled toward the weathered concrete walls and nearly crossed the threshold, but she held him back.

  “We can’t go in yet. The Baron is a gatekeeper, so we start at the entrance to honor him.” Setting her bag near the wall, she took a deep breath to calm her sprinting heart.

  “Right. I saw you do this when we were kids. Sorry.” James shoved his hands into his pockets and gave her a sheepish grin.

  “Don’t apologize.” She knelt on the sidewalk and dug through her bag to find a thick piece of purple chalk. Settling in the entryway, she pressed the chalk into the concrete and dragged down and to the right. It made a scraping sound as the fine powder marked the ground, and Odette let down her carefully constructed walls, allowing her powers to manifest.

  Her arm hairs stood on end, goose bumps pricking at her skin as the cross and coffins of Baron Samedi’s vévé took shape. Her met tet’s presence surrounded her, the emptiness of death overpowering the natural humming energy of life.

  “Is it just me, or is it getting colder?” James knelt beside her and rubbed his arms. “I’ve never felt this happen around you before.”

  She exchanged the chalk for a bottle of spiced rum from her bag and twisted the cap. “The Baron hasn’t come this close in a long time.” A shiver ran up her spine. “He’s listening.” She held the bottle in both hands and ran her thumb across the label. “I was stupid to think the distillery was a fair trade for my life. It’s a small tribute for the gift you’ve given me, Baron, and I’m here to make amends.”

  Pressing the bottle to her lips, she took in a mouthful of rum. The warm undercurrents of cinnamon and nutmeg danced on her tongue, and James’s eyes widened as she leaned forward and spit the alcohol across the vévé.

  “I never saw you do that when we were kids.”

  She handed him the bottle. “My mother did it on special occasions. Your turn.”

  He gave her a wary look. “Spit it?”

  “As an offering for the Baron. We aren’t going to make it without his help.” Facing the monster wasn’t optional. They would either kill it, or it would kill them, but they couldn’t let another couple die in their place.

  Gazing at the bottle, he chuckled. “Normally, I’d say that’s a waste of good rum, but in this case, I suppose it’s the best use of it.” He took a swig and spit it on the ground before offering the bottle to her.

  She shook her head. “Now take a drink for us.”

  Locking his gaze with hers, he drank deeply and put the bottle in her hands. His eyes held her still, calming the sprint of her heart as she raised the container to her lips. She took a gulp, and the rum burned its way down to her stomach. It had been years since she’d swallowed a sip of alcohol. Too many to count.

  Capping the bottle, she picked up her bag and rose, leading James across the threshold into the cemetery. Then, she set the bottle by the wall along with an expensive cigar and a top hat she’d bought at a party store. “We offer you rum and tobacco for listening to our prayers.”

  James stood next to her and rested his hand on the small of her back. “What now?”

  She stared out into the cemetery, at row after row of above-ground tombs. Dingy white plaster covered many of the graves, while others had worn away until the brick beneath was all that remained. Stone urns filled with colorful flowers adorned many of the tombs, a symbol that though the dead may be gone, they were not forgotten by the living.

  A weeping angel sat atop a 150-year-old tomb, watching over the remains of its inhabitants. Did the loa ever weep for her?

  She looked at James. “Now I beg for forgiveness.”

  Running her fingers along the sectioned graves in the wall, she traced the names engraved on the plaques, stopping at a recent burial. While the standing graves within the cemetery housed the remains of generations of family members, the law stated a new body could only be entombed at least a year and a day after the previous one. If a family member passed away within the year, his body was housed in a temporary grave in the wall until enough time had passed to move him to the family plot.

  No one in Odette’s family had died since her mom. Not on her father’s side anyway. Their family tomb was ready to receive, and hopefully she wouldn’t be its next inhabitant.

  “I’ve made it a point to never say ‘I’m sorry’ unless an apology is actually warranted.” She stood in front of her offerings and gazed at the shiny, black top hat. “In this case, I can’t say ‘I’m sorry’ enough to make up for what I’ve done. You gave me life and some powerful gifts, and I’ve squandered them. After…everything that happened…I thought if I denied my powers and lived in contrast to the Ghede way I could control not just my life, but everyone’s around me.”

  Pressure built in the back of her eyes. “But there are some things that are beyond my control, and I’ve got to learn to accept them. I will learn. This man…” She took James’s hand. “He’s teaching me. I know you know him. He spent a lot of time here as a kid, he and his dad honoring you without even realizing it. His life is in danger because of me, and if I…”

  A sob lodged in her throat, and she swallowed it down. “If I don’t change my ways, we’re both going to die, and for that, I am deeply sorry.” She looked into James’s eyes. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I was supposed to die as a baby. If my mom hadn’t made a deal with death, we never would have met and we wouldn’t have awoken whatever it is that’s after us. I’m so sorry, James.”

  The first tear trailed down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. “I’d take a single day in love with you over a lifetime of having never met. We’re soulmates.”

  Something between a laugh and a sob rolled up from her chest. “Yes, we are.” She sniffled and wiped another tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry, Baron. I’m sorry for abandoning my faith, and I’m sorry for not living in your image. Today, I’m offering my apology, this rum and tobacco…and I’m offering my life. If you will help us, come to the ceremony tonight and speak to us, guide us, tell us how to fix this, I swear on my mother’s grave that I will start living. I will embrace my magic, and damn it, I’ll learn how to have fun.”

  “I’ll make sure she follows through on the fun part.” James slid an arm around her waist. “Oh, shit. Is it okay if I address him too? Or did I ruin your prayer?”

  She laughed. “It’s fine. I have a feeling he’s been watching over you too.”

  She looked at James, and the pressure of all the emotion, all the built-up magic and energy that she’d been suppressing for years exploded in her chest like a water balloon bursting on the pavement. The floodgates opened, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she buried her face in his shirt.

  He held her as she sobbed, and a weight seemed to lift from her chest as she let go. She didn’t have to hold it in anymore. Didn’t have to always be in control. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was relinquishing the wheel, letting the loa and fate steer her life.

  She pulled back to look at James. “First thing I want to do when this is all over is go dancing.”

  He grinned. “You got it.”

  A frigid wind kicked up, swirling around them before settling into stillness. The Baron’s way of letting her know her prayer had been heard. Tonight, she’d learn if she’d been forgiven.

  “Thank you for not being afraid of my powers.”

  “Fate knows better than to bind you to a scaredy-cat. Lucky for you, there isn’t much that scares me.” He pressed his lips to hers.

  She expected a quick kiss, but he lingered, his sweet breath warming her skin. Snaking her arms behind his neck, she pulled him closer, pressing her body to his and deepening the kiss. With James by her side, she could do anything.

  He pulled away and chuckled. “We probably shouldn’t be making out in a
cemetery.”

  “Want to head home? The ceremony doesn’t start for another two hours.”

  A tour guide’s voice drifted on the air, “That’s a vévé for the god of death. It’s a symbol a Voodoo practitioner draws on the ground to summon the god. We better be careful in here and stick together…” The guide flashed a mischievous grin. “Unless you want to end up hexed.”

  “Oh, please.” Odette rolled her eyes and strode toward the exit. “I hate it when they get things wrong on these tours. I wish they’d do a little more research. Maybe ask someone before they start spreading rumors.”

  James chuckled. “I’m not sure they could handle the truth.”

  “You’re probably right.” As she slung her bag over her shoulder a chill formed in the air behind her. Contrary to popular belief, ghosts didn’t tend to congregate in cemeteries; they generally followed people or objects. With this group of twenty shadowing the tour guide, the spirit probably belonged to one of them.

  She turned and took in the spectral form—an eighty-something-year-old man with hunched shoulders and dark-brown eyes. From the looks of him, he had to be recently deceased. Long-dead ghosts usually showed themselves as they appeared in the primes of their lives.

  James looked at her quizzically, and she sighed. As much as she wanted to spend what little time she had left with her soulmate, this ghost appearing now could be a test from the Baron. “Give me a minute?” she said to James. “I think I need to help someone.”

  He looked toward the spirit, though he probably saw an empty space. “Ghost?”

  She nodded. “Do you need help, sir?”

  The ghost gazed out over the crowd of tourists.

  “Is someone you know out there? A loved one?”

  The spirit nodded and drifted toward the crowd. Odette followed, with James on her heels, and joined the group as the guide explained the history of the cemetery.

  “Has anyone here ever had any experiences with ghosts?” the guide asked.

  A few hands went up, and people described various experiences of things moving, as well as hearing voices.

  “I wish my grandpa would pay me a visit,” a woman in an LSU T-shirt muttered. “Or at least tell me where he hid his stash.”

  The ghost’s eyes brightened, and he looked at Odette. She hung back as the crowd moved on, and she whispered, “Is that who you’re here for?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound formed.

  Odette closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. This had to be a test. Make a promise to the Baron, and be ready to pay up. She let out her breath in a long exhale.

  James rested his hand on her back, grounding her again, and she had to wonder if he realized how calming his touch was for her. He must have, because he always did it at just the right moment. “He needs more energy?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Call it a hunch.” Stepping behind her, he rested both hands on her shoulders. “You’ve got this. I’m right here if you need me.”

  Nodding, she closed her eyes and opened up the channel. Weightless, empty energy from the underworld flowed through her, chilling her veins and making her shiver. James wrapped his arms around her, pressing his front to her back, grounding her even more.

  She pushed the energy outward toward the spirit, and it grew solid. She could have given the ghost enough energy for all the tourists to see—wouldn’t that have made their day—but she reined it in, only giving as much as was needed for him to speak. “I can pass on a message if you have one.”

  The ghost told her about his death, and a little too much about his life. He’d never trusted the banks, so his entire life savings, cash and gold coins, lay hidden inside his home.

  The ghost followed Odette as she approached the woman, his granddaughter, his energy fading as she closed the channel along the way.

  “Excuse me, Elizabeth.” She touched the woman’s arm.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Do I know you?”

  “Your grandfather says his savings is in a safe in the Northwest corner of the attic, behind the framed map of the Gulf.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Who are you?”

  Odette smiled. “No one important. Have a nice day.”

  Taking James’s hand, she strolled toward the exit, and the woman pressed her phone to her ear.

  “Yes!” The excited voice echoed off the cemetery walls, and Odette smiled. She’d passed the test.

  “I’m curious.” James followed Odette up the front steps and into the foyer. “If Baron Samedi shows up at the ceremony, will he be in ghost form? Will everyone be able to see him or only you?”

  With the ghost approaching her in the cemetery as a test, the loa’s appearance at the ceremony seemed likely, and his mind had been churning with questions ever since.

  She took his hand and led him toward the bedroom. “No one will be able to see him. He’ll communicate through ritual possession.”

  “Possession?” He stopped in the hallway. Plenty of rumors about what went on at Voodoo rituals circulated through New Orleans, and that was one he’d hoped wasn’t true. “You mean he’ll do like Nicolas did to me? Get inside your head and show you things?”

  Stepping toward him, she smiled softly and cupped his face in her hand. “He, and any other Spirit that makes an appearance, will get inside someone and take over their body, moving and speaking through the host.” She laughed softly. “We call the host a horse, and the loa is the rider.”

  His eyes widened. No way in hell was a Spirit getting inside him. He opened his mouth to suggest he wait outside while the vodouisants did their thing, but she caught his lips in a kiss instead.

  Her magic shimmied across his skin, and warmth bloomed in his chest, chasing away his fear. As she moved closer, pressing her soft curves into his body and slipping her arms around his waist, all logical thought dissolved from his brain.

  “Don’t worry.” She kissed his jaw, trailing her lips up to his ear. “The loa won’t ride you unless you’re open to it, and you haven’t been initiated. You’ll be a spectator.” Sliding her hands beneath his shirt, she nipped at his lobe.

  His knees nearly buckled with the sensation. “Good, because the only person I want riding me is you.”

  “I can make that happen.” Running her hands up his chest, she pulled his shirt over his head and stepped back, admiring him. Her eyes filled with hunger, and she licked her lips as her gaze traveled up and down his form.

  His stomach tightened, blood rushing to his groin. “Saddle up, sweetheart.”

  “Hmm…” She unbuttoned his jeans, letting them fall around his ankles before pushing him against the wall and reaching into his boxer-briefs to grip his dick. “I prefer bareback if you don’t mind.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, trying for a witty comeback, but the feel of her soft fingers wrapped around his cock scattered his thoughts like sawdust in a summer wind. She stroked him, and electricity shot through his core. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as she explored his body with her mouth.

  Gliding her lips along his neck, she moved down to kiss his chest, her warm breath raising goose bumps on his skin. As she flicked out her tongue to lick his nipple, a shudder ran through his entire body, a possessive growl rumbling in his chest.

  This was his woman. His fate-bound. And his wolf finally agreed she was the only one for him. Forever. He belonged to her, body, mind, and soul, and it was time he gave himself to her fully. No more holding back on his emotions. On anything.

  He was hers to do with as she pleased, and as she straightened and stepped back, the mischievous look in her eyes said there was plenty of pleasure to come.

  “Bedroom. Now.” Not waiting for a response, she strutted through the doorway, dropping her clothes to the floor on her way to the bed.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He toed off his shoes and stumbled out of his jeans before going to her and running his hands along her curves. “You are so beautiful.” He kissed
her, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth as he unclasped her bra.

  A soft moan escaped her throat, and she leaned into him, her body molding to his. This woman was made for him, and he intended to spend the rest of his life showing her how perfect she was.

  She grinned and pulled down his underwear before removing her own. Then, she tugged him toward the loveseat and gently pushed him down onto a cushion. She straddled him, sandwiching his dick between his stomach and her center, and kissing him like this was their last moment together.

  Running his hands up her back, he drank her in, the thrilling sensation of her growing magic enveloping him, heightening his senses. She rocked her hips, and her soft folds rubbed against his cock, sending a shock of passion rocketing through his core.

  He broke the kiss to press his lips into her ear. “I want you, Odette.” He needed her like he needed air to breathe.

  “Tell me what you want, James.” She moved her hips again, teasing him, igniting a desire so deep within him he could think of nothing else.

  “You.” His voice rumbled in his throat. “I want you.” He trembled as she took his length in her hand and rose onto her knees.

  “Is this what you want?” She lowered onto him until his tip slipped between her folds.

  “Yes. God, yes.” Gripping her hips, he pulled her down, lifting his own until their bodies met and he filled her completely, her wet warmth squeezing him, fire shooting through his veins.

  He drew out slightly, and she gasped. Folding forward, she gripped his shoulders and leaned into him, following him down as he settled onto the cushion. Then he leaned back and let her take control.

  And man, was she good at being in control.

  She lifted her hips, sliding up his shaft until only his tip remained inside her luscious folds. Then she took him back in, her heat wrapping around him, enveloping him in rapture. He couldn’t help but match her thrusts with his own.

  With his hands on her hips, he slid his thumb between her legs to find her clit. She moaned as he circled the sensitive flesh, and her rhythm shifted, her movements growing shorter and harder until his climax coiled inside him like a tightly-wound spring.