Healing the Bayou (18 page)

When the scene quieted down, Samuel lifted me to my feet and checked me over for damage. After waving him off, I headed into the crowd to search for my aunt Vivian.

Her grainy voice cackled from behind. She sounded like the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz promising to get Dorothy.

I swung around just in time to see flames erupt from under her feet, setting her body completely ablaze. Samuel restrained me by the torso, keeping me from running to her. I watched helplessly, screaming in horror while her entire body was consumed by the combustion, listening in disgust to the laughter that still radiated from the center of the fireball.

It only took a moment for the fire to burn itself out, and underneath it were not the charred remains of my Aunt’s corpse. The pit of my stomach housed a powerful, emotional cocktail of relief and absolute terror.

Standing in the place where my aunt had just been was now a woman not any older than myself, wearing a deep red, provocative dress with a plunging neckline. Her jet black hair almost reached her feet and flowed out as if it were being fanned even though the air was perfectly still. Her ruby lips folded up into an evil, menacing smile and her neon green eyes glowed, concentrating on me.

“You…” She took long strides in my direction, leaving a trail of fire behind each of her steps.

“Marinette!” Damballah’s voice rose above the loud whoosh that echoed each time a new fire was lit.

Her body quaked as she tried to resist his command for her acknowledgment, but her resistance was useless. Damballah raised his hand, and as if it were a magnet, her feet lifted from the ground and she was jerked to him, landing on her knees at his feet.

“You old fool.” Her voice was whispery and seductive, heavy with a Creole accent. “This isn’t your domain. I won’t kneel to you here.”

She struggled to stand, and eventually she did break free of his invisible hold and made it to her feet. Damballah stepped back, seeming to realize his host was no match for his rival—not on these grounds.

“What business have you among the mortals?” he demanded.

“The same as yours. To see that these peasants are given the opportunity to become more than rats hiding in the cracks of society.”

“I have chosen the Queen. There is nothing further to be done.”

“You have chosen the wrong healer for the throne.” She slowly turned to me. “I think we all know she is far too weak to be of any use.”

“It is not your decision to make.”

“Isn’t it? This will affect my future as well, Damballah. Should I not have a say?”

“And who would you have rule them? The faintly magical healer you have inhabited?”

“I have been communing with her. Teaching her. She grows stronger every day.”

“She has proven herself unworthy.”

“How? How has she proven herself unworthy? Because she has stepped on a few insignificant insects to claw her way to the top of her empire?”

“The top is not her assigned destination. It never was. Hers is not the true face of Voodoo, Marinette. And neither is yours.”

“And hers is?” She motioned to me. “You would have this little mouse represent our nation to the world?”

His face hardened at the accusation that he had not thought his decision through. “You underestimate her.”

“We will see.” Marinette laughed and a golden scepter appeared in her hand, its head forming the shape of a three-horned gargoyle. Her fingers perfectly molded in the grooves. Beams of yellow sunlight shot from the eyes and again a rumble was growing underneath us.

A mushroom cloud of smoke surrounded Damballah and imploded. The smoke screen quickly dispersed, revealing that he—along with his host Mr. Mueller—had vanished.

Marinette’s laughter grew louder and more maniacal. “You see? Even your precious shepherd will not stand against me. Perhaps he was displeased with your sacrifice, Nicole? Here, let me help you.”

She redirected the light source into the woods, and suddenly the desperate cries of the goat I had set free reeled closer. Slamming through the brush of the trees, his limp body flew through the air and crashed down onto the altar, nearly collapsing the foundation underneath. His broken ribs crackled with each breath he took, and he was gasping for air as he choked on his own blood.

“No!” I screamed, dreading the fate that I knew was coming for the pitiful creature.

She gave no thought to my pleas for mercy on his behalf. Instead, she drew her hand into a fist and a ball of fire appeared above it. She tossed it to the buck, and it hit his body with a blast that vaporized the carcass and shattered the concrete shrine.

My chest constricted and hysteria took over. I charged after her, hands outstretched and ready to choke the death out of her. I needed to feel the grip she held over my aunt’s body crumble under my fingertips.

Just as she came within reach, Samuel tackled me to the ground, and I cursed him for it.

“Let me kill the witch, damn it!”

He barrel-hugged me, preventing me from getting loose. “No, Eliza!” he insisted. “You don’t know her power.”

“And you don’t know mine!” I fought against him for freedom, but it was no use.

“You should listen to your keeper, Nicole,” she said patronizingly. “Little girls shouldn’t play with the big bad wolf.”

“You don’t look much like a wolf to me,” I taunted. “You seem more like a vulture. You’re too flimsy to hunt, so you prey on the fallen. My aunt Vivian was fragile, so you used her.”

“A vulture?”

She flattened her palm and waved it, sending Samuel flying to the ground behind me.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked as sweetly as a Girl Scout selling cookies.

I closed the distance between us and held my ground in front of her.

“I don’t care who you are,” I stated.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” She hovered her hand over my body, waiting for me to flinch, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She bent down and touched her lips to my ear. “I’m the Devil. Satan herself.”

I breathed in deep to chase away the chill creeping up my spine. If what she said is true, it meant she was responsible for the suffering of everyone. Everyone I loved had been hurt because of her trespasses. It was her fault Marie and Lucas were killed—that my parents were killed. This must be what Damballah meant when he suggested I wouldn’t forgive Aunt Vivian. She was in alliance with my family’s enemy. He underestimated me, too.

“Not quite.” Marinette addressed my thoughts aloud. She could read my mind. “I can’t take credit for those fortunate misfortunes. Don’t misunderstand—I certainly wish it was by my hand that you suffered so greatly. I did enjoy watching it from afar.”

Every word she spoke brought me closer and closer to my breaking point, and I finally snapped. My rage overpowered my judgment. I welled up the spit in my mouth and spat at her, hitting her in the eye.

The look of astonishment and revulsion etched into her face was enough payment for whatever punishment she could possibly sentence me with.

For the first time in my life, I was filled with power and self-confidence. I was proud of myself for the bravery I was showing and would never again let myself feel less valuable than Camille, or anyone else.

“You filthy little pig!” she squealed.

She squeezed my neck and I closed my eyes, preparing for death.

“Agh!”

A high-pitched scream of pain startled me, and the smell of burning flesh traveled up to my nostrils. When she removed her hand, I flashed my eyes open. Her face twisted in torment. Her hand was melting as if it had just been dipped in acid, and the bones were starting to peek through her skin.

A flash of light blinded me, and I blinked away the spots only to realize she had disappeared.

Chapter Sixteen

We searched all night for my aunt Vivian and Mr. Mueller both, but couldn’t find even a trace of them. Two days had passed, and still no word. I wanted to call the police, but somehow after picturing myself explaining the circumstances behind their disappearance, it didn’t seem practical. Sunday morning I woke with a heavy heart, assuming the worst.

“You should eat something,” Camille urged, placing a plate of fried eggs and bacon in front of me. “You’re going to disappear.”

Unable to bring myself to eat with Aunt Vivian missing, I still hadn’t broken my fast. My pants were significantly looser, and even though I hadn’t weighed myself I could only imagine I had lost a good fifteen pounds at least. But I wasn’t hungry, not even a little. Guilt was eating at my insides faster than the starvation could.

It was my fault both of them were missing. If I hadn’t come searching for my family in the first place, they would have never held my ritual and they would both still be safe.

“I’m not hungry.” I waved the dish away.

“Eat!” Samuel ordered, shoving the plate at me from across the table.

Tears swelled in my eyes in response to how harsh he was being, but I stifled them and crossed my arms to mirror his attempt at pulling off the alpha-dog position.

“Eliza,” he said, his tone much softer now, “none of this is your fault. Vivian was working with Marinette long before you got here. She would have dug herself a hole sooner or later.”

“And what about Mr. Mueller?” I reminded him. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Nobody loved him more than I did, but he knew the dangers of offering himself as a conduit.”

Lengthening my hand, I clasped Camille’s slender fingers into my own and squeezed lightly. “Does that mean if Camille disappeared you would have me shake it off?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Eliza. I would. It’s the nature of our religion. Shit happens.”

I winced at his blunt insensitivity. Camille was unfazed and kept eating with her free hand.

“Sorry, Samuel. But I wasn’t raised to be a cold-hearted bitch. I have feelings. I worry about people.”

“I worry about
you
. Nobody else matters to me but
you
.”

My anger melted at the confession, and I was annoyed with myself for letting him get away with manipulating my emotions again. He used my thoughts and desires as a weapon and damn it, I loved every minute of it. But I still had a miniscule amount of pride left, and I pushed my plate back at him to make it clear.

“No thank you.”

“Starving yourself isn’t going to help anybody,” he pointed out.

“Maybe something a little lighter?” Camille suggested, trying to be helpful. “Some toast? It won’t hit your stomach so hard.”

“That’s a good idea,” Samuel agreed and got up to make it.

“I can make my own toast,” I growled.

“Stop being a stubborn brat!”

My jaw dropped and I froze. Did he really just call me a brat? I was speechless. He may have been a jerk to me before, but he hadn’t straight up insulted me.

He danced around the table, and playfully lifted me up into his arms, cradling my body against his chest.

His lips lowered onto mine, and as if I was a trained puppy I was heeled. I walked my fingers up his neck and nestled them into his hair. Once again, I had been swept away by the gentle but obvious intensity of his passion for me—for us. Dragging my fingers down his jawline, I moved them into the opening between the buttons on his shirt and started to undo it. He moaned an invitation to continue.

“Spirits alive,” Marcus grumbled from the doorway, rubbing the sleep dust from his eyes. “It’s eight o’clock in the morning. If you two really need a morning romp, you have two bedrooms in this house to choose from. You don’t need to force us to watch it.”

I tried to pull away from the peep show we were giving, but Samuel held my face still until he finished brushing my lips with his unspoken apology. I giggled until he finally let me go, placing me softly back onto the ground.

“Sorry, Marcus.” I blushed.

“I think it’s adorable.” Camille smiled sweetly.

“It’s disgusting,” Marcus griped. “I can’t believe I still have an appetite. Where’s the food?”

“You snooze you lose, buddy.” Samuel slapped his comrade’s back. “Camille cooked, anyway. You didn’t miss much.”

“Hey!” Camille squawked.

“You can have mine.” I slid my plate to the other end of the table for him to take. “I can’t eat.”

“Thank God.” Marcus pulled up a chair and sucked down the eggs as if he was the one who hadn’t eaten in over a week. “I was thinking,” he said between chews, spitting food out as he spoke, “If Vivian is all right, she’s going to be at church this morning. When was the last time she missed sermon?”

I inhaled sharply. “You think she will be there?”

“If she’s alive and mobile she’ll be there. She’s got a thing for the priest.”

“The priest?”

“She can’t help it. Even an old lady has needs, if you know what I’m saying.” He winked.

I pretended to gag before returning to the matter at hand. Not wanting to get my hopes up, I prayed she would be there. I let myself be cautiously optimistic.

Samuel appeared at my side with a small plate with two slices of buttered wheat toast, and my stomach churned at the sight of it.

“If you want to go to the church you’d better hurry up and eat. Service starts in an hour.”

I scowled at him. I almost threatened to go without him, but I had no idea where she attended mass so it wouldn’t be much of a bluff.

I hated to admit it, but once I let myself start nibbling on the bread my stomach reminded me of how ravenous I actually was. Of course he was way ahead of me and by the time I polished off the second piece, he plopped down a big bowl of oatmeal, which did wonders for settling my stomach.

Once we were through eating, all four of us piled into Samuel’s silver car and took the two-mile drive to Aunt Vivian’s place of worship. Samuel was silent as usual, but he held my hand the entire way. Just a few days ago he couldn’t have touched me without raising eyebrows. I was so relieved we could finally be open about our relationship. We didn’t have to hide anymore.

More than that, it was so good to actually be able to
touch
him. I had done well in mastering the control of my magic—it was my priority. I so badly wanted to be able to shake hands with a stranger or hug Camille after one of our tearful girl talks. Most of all, I wanted to be able to enjoy Samuel’s arm around my shoulder during a long evening stroll.