Healing the Bayou (19 page)

And now, thanks to Aunt Vivian, I could. She may have done some bad things to a lot of people, and I don’t think Samuel would ever be able to understand, but I owed her a lot. I couldn’t let myself forget that.

We pulled into the parking lot of a grandiose chapel with a gigantic golden statue of a cross out front. It was the kind of church you really don’t want to give a donation to when the collection plate comes around because instead of it going to help your fellow congregation members, it was pretty obvious it was going to the plush landscaping and way-too-flashy decor. I had pictured Aunt Vivian attending a small, century-old temple that cared nothing for showing off, but I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I really didn’t know anything about her at all.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” a woman I didn’t know shouted from the steps, waving her arms around to catch my attention. “We thought you had gotten cold feet!”

She rushed across the parking lot and locked her arm into mine, dragging me to the front doors. Samuel was stopped by a couple of guys in suits when he tried to chase after us.

As she whisked me inside I noticed a sign standing in the front: Wedding of Nicole Paris and—

She pulled me so fast I didn’t have time to read the rest without tripping both of us, and truth be told, I was half tempted to go ahead and do it, but I didn’t want to be responsible for breaking the old woman’s hip.

We skirted between the pews and dodged the masses gathered. Every few steps someone would pull me into a hug and congratulate me, but the woman quickly ushered me past them and into a back room. Standing at a window was the familiar backside of my aunt Vivian. She was wearing a long, forest green formal gown and a matching bonnet—not what I had come to know to be her traditional church attire.

My heart was racing. I was overcome with waves of conflicting emotions. First I wanted to cry, then I wanted to laugh. I settled on jumping up and down, clapping my hands with joy.

“Aunt Vivian!” I yelled it so loud she jumped. “You’re all right!”

“Of course I’m all right, child.” She clutched her chest as if my entrance had frightened her.

Rushing to her, I touched her face to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Her makeup was done spectacularly. I don’t think I’d ever seen her wearing makeup before.

“Where have you been? We’ve all been so worried.”

She placed her hands on my shoulders to keep me still. “Stop jumping about. You’re going to work yourself into a sweat. I was safe.”

“Why didn’t you call? After what happened at the ceremony, I thought you might be hurt. Have you spoken to Mr. Mueller? He’s missing too.”

“He isn’t missing, darling. He’s where ever the Spirits put him.”

“Where did the Spirits put you?”

“Oh, never mind that. I was busy putting this wedding together for you. It turned out fairly well considering I had such short notice, if I do say so.”

“Wedding? What wedding?”

“Your wedding, sweetheart.” She looked at me as if I should already know all about her plan. “You weren’t planning on living in sin, were you?”

I arched a brow and lowered my voice. “I don’t think that’s your business.”

“Your whole life is the entire community’s business now. You’d better get used to it. And they want their savior. They won’t wait long. We’re here, they’re waiting. Are you going to tell them all to go home? Because I’m not.”

Anxiety swept over me, and I covered my face to hide from it. Damn it! What kind of a witch was she? How dare she put me in this kind of a position?

Yes, I wanted to be with Samuel, and I assumed we would get married
someday
. But we hardly knew each other. Hell, I didn’t even now his last name. As of right now all our relationship consisted of was mind-blowing sex and the memories he had of me. I had none of him.

I paced the length of the room. I wanted to run. Damn it, I wanted to run. But I knew when I decided to stay I was putting myself in the spotlight and all these people would be watching me under a magnifying glass. What would they think if I skipped out on my own wedding?

It wasn’t really my wedding, was it? I didn’t make any announcement, any agreement. I didn’t do any of the planning. A couple of weeks ago I didn’t even have a boyfriend, and they didn’t know about their “savior child” until two days ago.

They couldn’t really expect me to jump right into the role of being a wife two days after they found out it was OK for me to be with Samuel. And they certainly couldn’t expect me to get right to the baby-making. I was only twenty-four, for crying out loud!

“This was your mother’s.” Aunt Vivian pulled a dress out from a small closet. “She never got to wear it, but I think she would want you to have it just the same.”

It was a gorgeous silk, tea-length wedding gown that came off the shoulder. The beadwork that ran across the bosom was intricate. A ruffle of fabric flowers connecting the midriff to the bottom half of the dress was eye-catching without behind gaudy. She held up a transparent veil with matching beading, and I fell in love with them both.

Suddenly, my heart was at ease and comfortable. The only think I could think of was walking down the aisle—Samuel watching me float to him in my mother’s gown. I did want to be with him, and maybe calling him husband wouldn’t be so bad after all. The childbearing would need to wait for a bit, but I could do this. I could marry him.

“I knew you would come around.” Vivian smiled approvingly, reading my change of heart from my face.

“All right.” I didn’t enjoy giving her the satisfaction of winning, but it wasn’t just her to think about. “Help me get into this thing.”

It took some shimmying and sucking in—my mother was evidently a very petite woman—but with some help from Aunt Vivian and a few other women from her church I managed to squeeze into it. I could hardly breathe, but I approved of the girl looking back at me in the mirror once we were through.

She did my hair while I squished my huge, size-eight hooves into the size-six high heels that were also my mother’s.

“It’s time.” Aunt Vivian opened the door to escort me to the aisle.

“Wait!” I grabbed her arm. “What if he doesn’t want to marry me?”

“Well of course he does! He knows all about it. He’s probably been waiting at the altar wondering if you were backing out.”

He knew? Aunt Vivian hadn’t been out of my sight since we got here. If he knew that meant he had spoken with her after the ceremony, and he let me worry all this time. I couldn’t believe he would do that. This didn’t make sense.

Without giving me any time to think it over, she shoved me in the direction of the organ playing the traditional wedding march. My heart was pounding. Something was wrong.

Outside a stain glass window, Marcus caught my eye. He was frantically waving his arms about in a desperate attempt to get my attention.

“What’s wrong with Marcus?” Turning on my heels, I stopped Aunt Vivian in its tracks. I jerked my arm away and searched for a door, but the same two men that had prevented Samuel from coming after me stood in my way. “Excuse me.” My voice was high-pitched, exposing my fear.

“Eliza, everybody is waiting for you!” Aunt Vivian dug her fingers into my arm, and the men walked behind us, making sure I didn’t get away. “You can worry about that idiot later. Get a move on.”

What the hell was going on?

The men came around the front of us and opened the double doors leading into the sanctuary. Hundreds of people were seated on the red velvet benches that filled the room, each one holding a lit white candle. The path to the altar was so long I couldn’t clearly make out the man standing at the end of it next to the priest. Thrusting a bouquet of white roses into my hands, Aunt Vivian pushed me in the direction of him.

I tripped over the dress but caught myself. All eyes were on me. After picking up a rhythm that matched the music, I slowly made my way toward my groom.

Halfway down, still a good fifty steps away, I recognized the man standing at the altar. I froze when I discovered it was not Samuel. He didn’t wear a black suit and tie the way a traditional groom did. Instead, he had on a gold and white turban and when he smiled at me, I instantly recognized the familiar, stomach-churning, toothless grin.

“Everyone,” the priest started over his microphone. “Please welcome the future Mrs. Pascal Bazin.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Are you out of your mind?” My words echoed off of the church walls, and startled gasps from all of the attendees followed.

I threw the bouquet to the ground, lifted the bottom of my dress, and stomped angrily to Aunt Vivian, who looked mortified at my public protest.

“Eliza, remember yourself! There are many of my close friends here. You’re embarrassing me.”

“
I’m
embarrassing you? You’re embarrassing yourself, you old hag! This man tried to kill me a week ago! Did you honestly think I would marry him just so your little show wasn’t ruined?”

“I think we should have this conversation in private.”

“No! We need to have this conversation right here. That way, you won’t be able to twist my words to manipulate the situation later on to make
you
look as though you’re the victim.”

“You’re doing a good job of that yourself,” Pascal scoffed, making his way down the narrow, red walkway that divided the room. “Attacking an old woman this way. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

I didn’t wait for him to come to me. I hurried in his direction, closing the distance between us faster. When I reached him I slapped him hard across the face, letting out just enough energy so when our skin touched it would snap his face to the side, jolting myself with an electrical zap in the process.

“You pretentious bastard,” I hollered. “What the hell would make you think I would marry you? Besides the fact that you’re a complete psycho, you’re also forty years older than me, at least. That’s disgusting!”

“I thought you might put our differences aside for the sake of our people.” He shrugged as if he truly expected me to believe his intentions were purely innocent. “That is what a true leader does, Nicole.”

“My name is Eliza,” I snarled through my teeth. “And no good could come out of putting a person like you in a position of power. I sure as hell won’t be the one responsible for putting you there.”

“But Eliza,” Aunt Vivian, said, pleading with me to understand her side. “You were told that Damballah has commanded you mate with another healer. Mr. Beliz is the most powerful houngan in Louisiana. There is no better match if the goal is a mighty offspring.”

I swallowed the vomit that came into my throat at the thought of sleeping with this revolting insect.

“Damballah said my mate would be a break in tradition,” I reminded her. “He did
not
say he had to be a healer. He was talking about Samuel, not this troll!”

She laughed like a hyena and it took all my will power to keep myself from slapping her, too.

“Oh you poor thing.” She stuck out her bottom lip. “That’s wishful thinking at its best.”

“I don’t care what you have to say,” I snapped. “After the other night everyone here knows you’re a wielder of dark magic. Your judgment can’t be trusted. If anyone disagrees with me, please, I want to know about it.” I raised my arms to invite them.

I turned in a circle to get a clear view of everyone in the church, but not a soul stood up in her defense.

“I disagree.” Pascal lifted his finger. “Just because she practices the dark arts does not erase her wisdom as an elder. She deserves respect for her experience, and so do I.”

“You’re hardly the one to defend her.” I swatted away his hand. “You’re an even more putrid excuse for a human being than she is. Where is Samuel?”

“I had him locked outside,” Aunt Vivian said. “I knew he would put up a fuss and I didn’t want him interfering. Same thing with Marcus and Camille.”

I turned for the door but her security team stepped in front of me again.

“You’re going to hold me hostage?” I said with an amused grin. “In front of all these people? Even you aren’t that stupid, Vivian.”

I could tell she understood the risk, but she stood silent, stubbornly refusing to call them off.

Turning my attention to the men directly, I said, “I recognize you both. You were both in attendance for my ritual the other night, weren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” One of them hung his head, knowing where I was headed.

“Then I don’t need to tell you she is no longer the Queen of Louisiana, do I? I will ask you nicely and only once. Step aside.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned them.

But I won this round, and by doing so I showed her once and for all she was no longer in charge. They held the doors open for me, and I dramatically flipped my hair in her direction as I headed for the exit.

“Eliza!” she called. I twirled around for curiosity’s sake. “If you step out those doors you’re no longer welcome in my house.”

“Lady, I wouldn’t stay in your house another night if you paid me to. I generally make it a habit not to shack up with traitors.”

I stormed out, filled to the brim with pride. Samuel was pacing around his car, and I flinched when he punched a big dent into it.

“Is that really necessary?” I teased.

“Christ, Eliza!” He darted across to the steps and bear-hugged me, spinning me until I begged him to put me down before my motion sickness got the better of me.

“What the hell was all that about? Why are you in that dress?”

“You couldn’t hear?” I assumed he knew all about everything just by reading my thoughts.

He shook his head. “My powers don’t work in church. Neither do yours.”

Well, that was good to know.

“I’ll catch you up in the car. We need to get to Vivian’s and get my shit out of there before she hexes it or something.”

After bringing the others up to speed, Samuel decided he was moving out too, along with Camille. Marcus could not set aside his guilt. He could not bring himself to leave Vivian all alone and wanted to stay.

Samuel suggested we all move into his father’s house. He was gone on an extended vacation, and I didn’t have to be telepathic to be able to tell there was more to the story. He would tell me when was ready.