Healing the Bayou (8 page)

When I opened it I startled myself as much as Samuel with a shriek at the sight of him. He was seductively leaned up against my door frame facing in, waiting for me. He had on dark blue jeans that faded at the knee, and a white undershirt showed on the inside of a black leather jacket he wore much too temptingly.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thank you. You look ruggedly dashing.”

“You want to go for a walk?” It was more of a statement than a question.

I pursed my lips. “I was thinking that might be a good idea, but you knew that already.”

He flashed a charming smile and extended his hand in a gentlemanly fashion. I brought mine to meet his, but then he snatched his back when he remembered who he would be escorting. I frowned at the rejection, especially as Camille conveniently passed by us at the end of the hall. Cursing to myself, I took the lead and stomped down the stairs.

“That language wasn’t very ladylike,” he teased as he locked his arm into mine when we were outside. My heart pounded against my ribcage when his arm touched mine. Even through the leather he gave me goose bumps. He jerked away, but I gave him a pacifying glance and he froze.

“I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable, Eliza.”

“You’re not hurting me,” I assured him sweetly. “I’ll tell you if you do. I promise.”

I knew I didn’t need me to make the promise. He would know if he hurt me but I wanted him to know I wouldn’t try to hide it from him. His muscles released and we wandered the neighborhood until we came to a small lake and sat on the edge of an old wooden dock to talk.

“So, Ms. Vivian tells me you’ll be staying with us?”

“Only for a little while longer. She seems to want me to stay for Saint John’s Eve. Whatever that is.”

“Saint John’s Eve is when we perform the baptisms.”

A small, nagging panic lifted chaos into my chest.

“You don’t think she’s expecting me to convert?”

He looked at me as if I was a silly girl asking an obvious question. I knew the answer. Aunt Vivian was planning to baptize me into the Voodoo religion, or cult, or whatever it was, and she wasn’t even going to prepare me for it! Did she think I would just submit to something so important without any knowledge of what I was getting myself into? Balling my fists at my side, I found myself filled with anger at the notion. How dare she think just because I’m her niece that she could do no less than order me to do something this way? She must have thought if I joined the community I would stay in Louisiana for good. A stern frown on Samuel’s face revealed his concern. He had let the cat out of the bag.

“I’m sorry, Eliza. I thought you knew, I just assumed that’s what you two were talking about earlier. Besides, you have to convert if you’re going to take over as priestess.”

The sweetness in his voice quelled the waves of turmoil inside. It bothered me to realize he could do that anytime he wanted. That was a dangerous gift. The glow on his face told me he too was expecting me to become the Queen of his little community, and it fueled the rampaging tornado of confusion that was swirling around in my head. There wouldn’t be anything that could convince me to leave if he asked me to stay. I would stay for him.

His cheeks turned crimson and while I was proud of myself for making him blush for a change, I was embarrassed by what he had heard me thinking.

“I was raised Catholic.” I changed the subject. “You don’t understand. I have already been baptized.”

“Voodoo and Catholicism really aren’t that different.” He shrugged.

“That’s what Aunt Vivian said. It’s been a while since I’ve attended church, but I don’t remember being taught how to cast spells at mass.”

Samuel shook his head and tried to hide his amusement. “It’s true. Of course there are differences but really, Voodooism isn’t as scary as everybody thinks. We believe in God. We believe in Jesus Christ. But we also believe in loas—what you might know as angels. They carry our prayers to God for us. And then there’s you: the witch doctor.”

“I’m not a witch! I don’t ride around a broom finding ways to hex people,” I snarled.

“It’s not a bad thing, Eliza. It’s just a name. You just need to adapt your meaning of it. And by the way, there is a little truth to the broom thing. The priestess uses a broom to sweep away bad energy.”

“What? Get out of here!”

“Seriously.” He snickered only shortly before he his tone returned to its more natural solemnity. “You can’t run from who you are. You’re special. You’re going to be just as special in Florida as you are here. You might as well surround yourself with people who understand what you are instead of with people that fear it.”

I hated that he made sense. There were people elsewhere that accepted me—Aunt Patrice and Uncle Charlie loved me. But they couldn’t ever really understand what I was, and besides, they were even farther away than here. Was there anything left for me in Florida? I could always sell the house and buy one here. At least I had someone to call family in New Orleans. And there was someone here I wanted to be with. It sounded right. All of it fit together, but it was too much at once.

“Why are you fighting it so hard?”

I gaped. The directness in his question caught me off guard.

“Samuel, I just found out that I was adopted. I hopped on a plane and flew here with a man who was supposed to help me find out who I am and abandoned me in a diner while I was being attacked. Some mind-reading Prince Charming comes to my rescue and brings me to a woman who tells me I’m the lost priestess of a Voodoo cult. Sorry if I don’t come running to the idea.”

“Sounds as if that could make one hell of a Disney movie.”

My mouth dropped open at the unexpected dig, but I appreciated the giggle it gave me. Pushing playfully at his shoulder, I nearly knocked him into the water, and he grabbed my arm in reflex. Catching his mistake, he let go immediately, but the warmth still lingered where his fingers had been.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a sincere, apologetic tone.

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t hurt me.”

It wasn’t a lie. I almost thought I was finally going to feel the sensation Aunt Vivian had briefly explained before he took his hand away. Now I was clenching my jaw out of frustration and irritation, but I was even more determined to defeat his bipolar approach to me.

“Aunt Vivian said you have been watching me. How long?” I eyed him intently for some sign he returned my attraction.

“A long time.”

I huffed at the lacking reply. “What is a long time?”

“Ten years.”

“Ten years?” I echoed with astonishment. “How have you been watching me for ten years? You’re not much older than me.”

“Well, I could always feel your presence, but I moved to Florida to watch over you when I was sixteen. I came back here a few times a year to report to the elders.”

“So, the community has always known I survived the fire? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would you have done if a stranger came up to you and told you any of this?”

“Does the stranger look like you?” I smirked.

He arched his brow, and I melted at the sexiness that oozed out of him. Taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies filling my stomach did little, so I resorted to fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

“You can read my thoughts anyway,” I said. “There’s no use not just saying it.”

“Fair enough.” He looked away, refusing eye contact. My boldness had discomposed him.

We stared up at the twinkling stars in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, pretending to be interested in the way they peeked through the thick leaves on the tree branches. Just when I thought I had thoroughly humiliated myself, he shifted his body so that his arm came behind me and I was leaning into his shoulder. He coolly pointed out constellations.

“That’s Ophiuchus, the serpent bearer. If you look closely you can see him and the snakes he’s holding.”

“He’s the reason I’m not an Aquarius anymore,” I joked.

Distracted by the warmth radiating from his closeness, I paid minimal attention to his fingers while they traced the stars, and almost no attention to most of what he said. The scent of him was overwhelming my senses—I never knew cedar could smell so inviting. My gaze moved to his lips, and I watched them as he spoke. My stomach tightened and my heart changed pace, taking turns beating faster and slower. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t make myself move.

He looked down at me right on cue.

He wasn’t talking anymore, and his eyes held mine. The shades of green in them danced in the moonlight. His gaze was so enchanting, so inebriating it was as though he held my world. As he moved his lips closer to mine I could feel his warm breath on my face. The feeling made me quiver. His soul was calling mine.

The anticipation was almost painful. Never had I needed something as badly as I needed to feel his touch in that moment. I reached my hand to graze his chin and for a moment it looked as though he was going to let me continue.

He had a change of heart at the last minute. Raising his arm to block my contact, the blade of rejection cut deep into me, shattering the confidence I had an abundance of only seconds before. I bit my lip to hold back the tears that were beginning to creep into my eyes and turned away.

“Eliza,” he started softly.

“It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

“You don’t understand, I can’t…”

He trailed off and his ambiguity only made it hurt worse. He had wanted me. I could feel it. The energy his body expelled was unmistakably different than anything I had ever absorbed before, but it was also as clear as day. He was going to kiss me.

Why did he pull away? I didn’t know why he was so reluctant to admit it to himself, to me, but the more I thought about it the faster my hurt turned into anger. He was giving me mixed signals that were making me feel as though I was an idiot, and it wasn’t fair.

Shaking from the rush of emotions, I didn’t even want an explanation anymore. I let out a growl as I rushed to my feet and stalked off, leaving him alone on the dock.

It took me ten minutes before I could admit to myself I was completely lost and walking in circles. I had no idea where I was going, but it didn’t matter as long as I had my distance from him. Stopping under a street lamp, I hoped the lighting would reveal a familiar landmark to guide me in a general direction.

“My, aren’t you pretty?”

A man appeared from the shadows ahead and suddenly the stifling heat of a southern summer was replaced by an ice cold chill. He was covered by a bright, colorful robe and a red turban wrapped his head. When he smiled he flashed a toothless grin, and he stunk like rotten trout.

Covering my nose from the assault of the odor, I stepped back to keep from getting sick.

“Don’t be frightened.” His words were meant to be soothing, but he was betrayed by his tone, which rang loud with menace. “I did not think my competition would be so young.”

My first reaction was to show him how puzzled I was by the statement, but by this point I was downright tired of feeling so uninformed every time I turned around in this city. Learning something else that would knock my world off of its axis would be exhausting and frankly, I didn’t have the patience for more surprises tonight.

“Go have another drink.” I was sure to make my irritation clear in my voice. “You’re running out of moonlight.”

I turned to walk away from him but in a flash he was at my side, his elbow above his head resting on the light post, blocking my way. I jumped back, startled by his quickness. How the hell did he move so fast?

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. My dear, Mambos are supposed to be polite. Manners will get you a long way in this part of the world.”

Rolling my eyes at his condescension, I tried to push by him, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Mister, I have no idea who you are nor do I desire to overthrow whatever little position you hold in this messed-up little shit hole. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I would really like to be getting home.”

As quick as lightning his hand wrapped around my throat. I tried to scream but my breath was stuck beneath his pinching fingers. My flesh burned under his skin, and darkness rolled over me. My weight collapsed under me. His grip on my neck was the only thing keeping me standing. Tears flooded my eyes and my face infused with blood.

“I’m the
houngan
,” he seethed. “You will not take my place. These are my people. I will not let a little girl take my power from me.”

His face was so close to mine, his saliva hit my cheeks as he spoke. I tried to squeak out a reply but no noise escaped.

Suddenly, he was hurled away from me, and I crashed unto the hard sidewalk underneath me, my knees taking the impact of the fall. There were grunts of a scuffle in the near distance, but the darkness was too thick in front of me to find the source of it.

Wandering farther into it to get a look at my rescuer, Samuel came into focus. He was on top of the man who had just held me near death. Samuel’s fists were barreling down onto his jaw, and blood dripped from the bastard’s mouth.

I caught myself smiling at his misfortune. It was his turn to feel the fear he had just imposed. It was becoming clear Samuel was not going to stop until he had killed him. Shrieking, I begged for his attention. I wouldn’t let him live with the guilt that came from taking a man’s life on my account.

“Samuel! Samuel, stop. That’s enough!”

I pulled at his shoulder with all my strength, and my touch snapped him back into reality. When he looked up at me his eyes were as black as the night surrounding us.

For only a moment I feared that he would turn his aggression on me instead. I convinced myself he wouldn’t harm me, not after protecting me so long. After his eyes faded back to green he moved his attention again to the man that lay bloodied underneath him. Still barely conscious, fright filled the man’s eyes. He held his hands over his head to show he was the submissive in this quarrel. Samuel stumbled to his feet to face me.

“Are you all right?” he huffed.

I nodded, even though I really wasn’t sure. I was shaken to hell, literally. My body was vibrating and I wrapped my arms around myself, hoping that my own warmth would squelch my anxiety.