by J. N. Colon
“Shepherd you to the spirit world instead of your sister,” he said. “And once there, you will remain with me.”
“For what?” I whispered.
“Don’t worry, little cher.” His head tipped to the side, looking up at me. From this angle, he looked even more chilling. “You want to save your sister, no?”
My eyes fell to my feet, silently considering my choices. Marisol would die if I didn’t make the trade. And I would take her place.
“Let me make it easier on you, chil’.” A rough finger touched my chin, forcing my eyes back to his. They were darker than anything I’d ever seen, thicker than all the shadows here combined. “I won’t take you now.”
“When?”
“I’ll come calling for you on your eighteenth birthday. You got plenty of time to live. Almost eight full years. Seems like a lifetime already, no?”
My eighteenth birthday was light-years away. Marisol would live and so would I—until then.
I knew what my answer would be even if I had to leave with him now. “I’ll do it.”
A wide grin slithered over his face. “We have a deal?”
Phantom spiders scuttled down my spine, and the air cooled another ten degrees. The voice inside my head was urging me to back out. Now. I didn’t know what I was doing. This was too dangerous.
I ignored it.
“Deal.”
The dock vibrated beneath my feet, and the wind howled. Energy crackled through the rum-scented air like lightning in a storm. Strands of hair lashed my face, and through them, the onyx eyes of the voodoo king flashed crimson.
Chapter 4
I bolted upright in bed, sweat coating my skin and soaking my hairline. My breath came in ragged pants, shattering the silence of my room. Flashes of the voodoo king assaulted my mind, the skull painted over his face so blindingly white against his ebony skin. The sickly sweet smell of cigars and rum drifted up my nose, making me queasy.
My eyes flicked to the clock on my bedside table. Three weeks, one day, and sixteen hours. It was all the time I had left before Baron Samedi, the voodoo king, came to collect my soul.
With an uneven sigh, I swung my legs over the bed, my feet touching the fuzzy sage rug beneath. My mouth was dry as a desert. I stumbled down the hall and the stairs in the dark, hoping not to wake anyone. Abuela was the hardest to lie to. She’d take one look at me and know something was wrong.
When I finally shuffled into the kitchen, I reached for the dimmer switch. The bulbs flared to full blast before I even touched it.
What the…?
I blinked as the recessed lights lowered on their own, dimming to a more manageable level. Something must be wrong with them.
I shuffled to the fridge, snagging a bottle of water. The snap of the seal breaking echoed hollowly through the kitchen. The ice-cold liquid felt amazing going down my parched throat, soothing the burning the nightmare had left in my chest. I leaned against the counter, absentmindedly staring out the French doors to the backyard.
Images of Etie Benoit sparked in my mind, that annoyingly sexy smile taunting me as he called me Angeline. There was no way that guy was normal. He had sin and danger oozing out of every pore. If anyone in this town was capable of voodoo, it was him.
Movement in the yard caught my eye, yanking my mind away from Etie. The silhouette of a man stood in front of a maple tree.
My heart jumped in my throat, blocking my airways. The wind stirred, shifting the branches and allowing a sliver of moonlight to penetrate the shadows. The outline of a top hat appeared, the tail of a scarf wrapped around it blowing in the breeze.
“Boo!”
The bottle fell from my fingers, shooting water up my leg before spilling across the travertine tiles. A choked squeal tumbled out of my mouth as I spun around.
Marisol’s smoky laughter echoed through the kitchen. “Flaca! You should have seen your face.”
My eyes narrowed at my sister, and I stooped to pick up the empty bottle of water. “What the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack.” I glanced out the door, and the shadowy figure was gone.
A hand rested on my chest, trying to calm my erratic heart. Had anyone been there at all? Was it only my imagination drumming up the thing I feared most?
Marisol tossed me a towel. “It’s not my fault you’re so jumpy. Why are you so jumpy?” she asked, hopping onto the counter and opening the white cabinet next to her.
I laid the towel over the spilled water. “I’m not.” I wasn’t about to admit I saw someone in the yard. “Are you just getting home?” I asked to redirect the conversation to safer topics.
“I had a hot date with my new boy toy Jesse.”
I made a face over my shoulder. “Where’d lover boy take you? Chickarees?”
She snorted. “Yeah.”
Chickarees Bar and Grill was the hopping place to go for the working class in Carrefour. It was a dive down a dirt road that butted up against Lake Twala and the surrounding woods. I’d never been, but Marisol liked to hang out wherever the party was no matter who was throwing it.
She pulled out a box of cookies, digging one out. “I saw the Benoit brothers.”
My brow arched, and I stood with the soaked towel in my hand. “Oh really?”
She bit her bottom lip. “I forgot how hot they were. Étienne was looking especially fine tonight.”
A massive fist knotted in my chest, and it was difficult to swallow. I tossed the towel into the sink a little harder than necessary, spraying Marisol with water.
“Flaca!” She shook the wet cookie, caring more about it than her drenched shirt.
I bit back a smile. “Sorry.”
She laid the cookie on the counter and grabbed a fresh one. “Bastien had some skank on his lap,” she continued without missing a beat. “Marla Mickens.” She scowled over her name. “That harlot would give it up to anyone. He could do better.”
“I’m working with them this summer,” I blurted, suppressing a smirk. For the first time ever, I had something to top Marisol’s exciting night.
Her dark eyes shifted, narrowing. “No way.”
I gave a noncommittal shrug. “Abuela got me a summer job.”
“Why?”
“No idea.” She never got Marisol a job. Then again, my sister wasn’t the working type. She either would have quit or sweet-talked her way out of any actual work.
“What’s your job?” A sullen look slipped over her features while she crossed her arms against her chest.
A thrill zipped through my stomach. Was that jealousy in my big sister’s brown eyes?
“They’re restoring the old Leroux house. I’m supposed to be helping Etie with something. I’m like his assistant—I think.” A smile attempted to break free, even though the actual thought of spending time with the possible voodoo guy had my nerves frayed.
“Oh, is it Etie now? You guys know each other like that?” Her teasing tone obliterated any jealousy I’d thought I saw.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s just what Bastien called him.”
She hopped off the counter, her ample boobs jiggling. “What do you think of him?”
I reached into the sink and rung the towel out. “He’s a jerkwad. He insulted me.”
Marisol crammed another cookie in her mouth. “What’d you do?” Her voice was muffled by the food.
“I pretty much told him to kiss my ass.” It took more words and a hell of a lot of bravery to stand up to the Cajun.
She nearly choked on the cookie, quickly swallowing. A wide grin slowly melted over her face. “Flaca, I’m so proud of you.” She put her arm around my shoulders, giving me a dramatic squeeze. “My little muñeca is growing up.”
“Ay, dios mío.”
We both jumped at Abuela’s voice as she shuffled into the kitchen. “You two niñas are making enough noise to wake the entire parish.”
Marisol bit her bottom lip to stifle a laugh. “Sorry.”
My grandmother grumbled and combed her fingers thr
ough those silky tresses, her dark eyes pinning me. “And Evangeline, must you turn every light on from the hallway upstairs to the kitchen?”
My face bawled up. “What are you talking about? I didn’t turn any lights on except the one above the stairs.” The throbbing bruise on my knee from the coffee table was proof I couldn’t see a thing. I pointed to Marisol. “She turned them on, not me.”
Marisol scoffed. “I just came in the front door.”
Abuela’s dark, penetrating eyes lingered as if waiting for me to crack and admit my guilt.
She could wait all she wanted because I didn’t do it. “I’m going back to bed.” I pivoted and stormed off. “And don’t worry, I’ll cut off the lights.” I reached for the switch, a sharp electrical sting hitting my fingers before I touched it. The kitchen plunged into darkness.
I shook my hand, ignoring Marisol’s protests. Feeling my grandmother’s eyes on me, I glanced over my shoulder just as she turned the switch on again. Something unreadable flashed across her face.
Knots the size of melons jostled my stomach as I climbed the rickety steps for my first day of work at the Leroux house. The bravery I possessed yesterday had evaporated like water on a hot road top.
Etie was in the living room using a power sander on the fireplace mantle. Without looking over his shoulder, he shut it off and spun around. Those mysterious eyes perused me. He wasn’t checking me out. He was scrutinizing my clothes to ensure I was properly dressed.
The t-shirt, jeans, and work boots—purchased yesterday—should satisfy his criteria. I still squirmed like a bunny rabbit in front of a drooling wolf though.
“Well, did I pass?” My fingers fidgeted with the ends of my long ponytail.
His lips curled in a leer. “Barely.”
That one word dripping in sarcasm knocked the nerves right out of me. I popped my hands on my hips and glared. “What do you want me to do?”
His head cocked to the side as he pulled a lollipop from his pocket, yanking the wrapper off before shoving it in his mouth. “The night crew left a mess upstairs.” He motioned toward the ceiling with the cherry candy. “Clean up the trash they left in the master bedroom and throw it in the dumpster out back.”
I blinked. “You want me to pick up trash?”
“Yeah, cher. You got a problem with that?” There was no mistaking the challenge in his tone.
A tight smile formed over my lips. “Nope.” The P made a popping sound. “Where are the trash bags?”
I grabbed the box of black trash bags and maturely stomped upstairs to begin my lovely summer job. As it turned out, I didn’t need the construction work boots for what I was doing.
After I picked up the trash, Etie had me pull ivy and weeds from the splitting wood on the porch, even though they planned on tearing the rickety thing down. No amount of repairs could fix that kind of damage.
My next assignment was to pick up nails and other debris from the backyard left behind by the roofers.
I threw the last piece of discarded shingle into the dumpster with a metal thunk and wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. The summer sun beamed down on me and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to get a farmer’s tan.
My feelings toward the youngest Benoit were a stark contrast from yesterday morning as I hid outside of his house. I’d been rapt with fear. Now? I was ready to strangle him with my tiny baby hands.
With a sigh, I stomped inside to inform my boss I was finished with his menial tasks. What was next? Polishing the fixtures that were going to be replaced?
Etie was pulling off rotten wall-boards in a massive room that must have held some fancy parties in the past. Sunlight filtered through the ornate windows, hitting the dusty crystals hanging from a curling iron chandelier. Rainbows danced across the intricate crown molding and along the oak floors.
As I drew closer, the images of what this room used to be held no interest. It was stolen by the guy working a crowbar into a stubborn piece of wood. Heat blossomed in my stomach as my gaze traced the sweaty shirt clinging to his torso, revealing sharp lines of hard muscles. Damp hair was brushed back from his face, a few stubborn strands falling into his eyes.
“You can’t be done.”
His voice startled me. My fingers wiped my chin in case I’d been drooling. “I’m done.”
He shot an incredulous look over his shoulder, a lollipop hanging from his mouth.
I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m serious. Go check if you want.”
Etie grumbled under his breath, and his eyes roamed, searching for another bullshit job. He pointed toward the tops of the windows and along the ceiling. “Get all these cobwebs down.”
I stood still, waiting for him to tell me he was kidding.
He wasn’t kidding.
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
I tapped my chin. “Um, well, how exactly do you expect me to reach those cobwebs?”
He laid the crowbar down. “Use a broom, genius.”
“As you so nicely pointed out yesterday, I’m a little on the short side. I can’t reach even with a broom. The ceilings are like twenty-five feet high, genius.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice.
He pulled the sucker from his mouth, those mismatched eyes glaring sharply. “It’s called a ladder, Angeline.” He pointed toward a metal ladder leaning against a wall. “Use it.”
My cheeks flushed. “It’s Angel, remember?”
Etie shrugged. “I keep forgetting.”
My brows slammed together, matching his glare—or at least, I tried. It was a pretty hard thing to replicate.
I spun around and stalked toward the ladder, positioning it in front of the first window. This was going to be hell. The ladder wasn’t the sturdiest thing, and I’d have to climb past halfway to reach the top.
I swallowed hard and started my ascent, gripping the broom in one hand and the ladder in the other. If I fell, I was going to break my neck.
After trying a couple different techniques all the while listening to Etie’s chuckles, I realized both my hands needed to grip the broom to get the job done. And that meant I had to balance on the ladder.
I was so going to fall.
Sweat trickled down my back as I stood rigidly, brushing away cobwebs stuck to the top of the window frame. I mentally cursed Etie, wishing him all sorts of injury. If I were a voodoo sorcerer like he was rumored to be, he’d be writhing in pain on the floor. I wouldn’t need a voodoo doll to inflict my torture. My sheer hatred would be enough.
“Oh, uh, Angeline,” Etie’s voice echoed far below. “You missed a spot.”
He leaned against the wall with a smug look while he popped a piece of chewy candy in his mouth.
My blood boiled, simmering beneath my skin and making me imagine shooting fireballs at him. I shifted the broom to brush across the spot he was referring to, my entire body trembling with strain.
“Not having trouble up there, are you, Angeline?”
A growl slithered between my teeth. “Angel, jackass. The name is Ang—” The rest of my name was swallowed up by a gasp as the ladder teetered. I dropped the broom and clung to the shaking contraption, attempting to stop its movement.
The stupid thing stopped moving all right. I just didn’t.
My foot slipped.
I was freefalling toward the floor, heading for a blackout or broken bones. And a shit ton of pain.
Chapter 5
Instead of hitting the floor, I slammed into something hard, hot, and damp. My arms instantly held on for dear life, as did my legs, wrapping around whatever had caught me. Electrical charges popped along my skin. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, but it wasn’t natural either.
In the back of my mind, past all the panic, I knew what had caught me—and who I was clinging to like a spider monkey.
Could he feel the electricity humming over my skin? Was he causing it?
My chin rested on a thick shoulder. My breaths were quick, uneven pants while my heart flut
tered faster than hummingbird wings. “Son. Of. A bitch.”
“No more ladders for you, cher.” That deep, husky voice tickled my ear. “And here I thought rich girls could balance on one toe with a crown on their head, a fancy bag in one hand, and a glass of champagne in the other.”
The insulting words had me shifting back. “You are such…” I was suddenly up close and personal with those mystical eyes, one like the bluest ocean and the other a lush, wild forest. Two different worlds and both full of hidden treasures. And danger.
My mouth turned dry, and any words that had been on the tip of my tongue were obliterated.
“You were saying, Angeline?” The corners of Etie’s lips twitched while his voice had deepened, that accent forming my name with a sensual edge.
Heat bubbled from my stomach, and this time it wasn’t from anger. Nope. That other hot emotion was punching me in the face right about now.
Warm, cherry-scented breath caressed my cheeks while strong arms held me tight. Dark, damp locks fell carelessly around Etie’s face, and his tanned skin glistened with sweat. The scars below his lip and on his cheek glinted in the sunlight, adding to the dangerous allure.
He smelled delicious even covered in sweat. A spicy herbal blend of something foreign and intoxicating swirled around me. It seeped through my mind like a drug-induced fog, stealing my sanity. My bottom lip snagged between my teeth as I thought of something, anything, to say while the sexiest thing alive held me.
I should’ve told him to put me down, but my mouth wasn’t working. And my body seemed quite content wrapped around his.
“Well, it looks like you two crazy kids are getting along.” Bastien leaned against the doorjamb, a smirk crossing his face.
A growl rumbled from Etie’s chest, and his nostrils flared. He released me the same time my limbs retracted as if we couldn’t get away fast enough.
Etie brushed his damp locks out of his face, a scowl curling his lips. “Maybe you could take her for a while. She’s more trouble than she looks.”
