Bayou Baby (4 page)

“She hates Mama.”

“Not always. Monsieur Dumas tried to claim you long ago, but the old woman advised him to wait. When his father died, at your mother’s hands, Monsieur vowed revenge. The old woman threatened him, and when he ignored her threat, she killed his wife and son, leaving him alone.”

Rowan didn’t believe any of his words. Her mama might be dishonest, but she’d never kill anyone. Not intentionally. Mama Gator wouldn’t either. “Why has he waited so long for revenge?”

“Monsieur has been so grieved over his loss that he has been unable to take what is rightfully his. Until now. The old woman owes him more than her life.”

“Why would he want me then? He does not know me.”

Pierre raised an eyebrow. “You do not know why?”

“No I don’t. I don’t care either. I just want you to let Mama Gator go. She has killed no one. Whatever Monsieur Dumas believes, he’s mistaken. She doesn’t harm innocent people, certainly never a child.” Rowan struggled but his grip was firm, his fingers biting into her arm, jerking her roughly to his side.

“Ah but she did,
cherie
. Not long after she cursed him, Monsieur’s wife and son fell ill. He watched them both die a slow, tortuous death. That old woman is a very strong
bokor
, but she will not harm anyone after today.”

Absurd. Rowan hated how the white folk believed such nonsense about their neighbors in the swamp. Mama Gator was powerful, but she was no bokor and she used her magic and the spirits for good. “You are mistaken. Bokors are men.”

“Believe what you will, it changes nothing. She is dying today, and you are coming with us.”

Rowan stood, unable to move her feet. Her stomach bubbled, its contents burning her throat as they carried her only friend to the bank of the river. Mama Gator didn’t fight. They picked her up by her arms and legs and swung her over the water. She muttered her chants right up until they threw her in.

The gators looked confused at first, circling around the ripples where she fell. Then two dove under. Soon the water churned until it became red with blood.

Rowan turned to Monsieur Dumas. Her body trembled and tears burned her eyes. “You will pay for that,
Monsieur.”

He stepped into the boat. The others followed, dragging Rowan with them. “You think I’m afraid of a whore? I think not. Accept your fate, girl, you only make things worse.”

She glanced back at the rippling water. “I will see you all dead for this. Every one of you.”

“You see how we shake in fear.” Stefan said, a grin on his face.

Rowan turned away.

“Maybe we should break her in a bit before we give her to Rosaline.”

“Touch me and you will die today,” Rowan whispered.

“You think so?” He moved toward her.

Rowan stood her ground. Rage burned in her chest.

“I think you are nothing, I could snap you like that.” He snapped his fingers and then reached to touch her hair. He was gentle at first, playing with it and curling his fingers in it. Then grabbing it in his fist he pulled. Rowan let him think she was frightened, widening her eyes, and gasping. She reacted a moment later when his hands found her breast. Bringing her knee up, she caught him in the groin. When he let go of her hair, she kicked his stomach hard.

The boat, already off the bank, swayed in the water. Stefan struggled to keep his balance.

Rowan grinned. “I think so,
Monsieur,”
she whispered and kicked his knees, sending him over the edge of the boat.

“Move,” Monsieur Dumas yelled as the gators, already savoring Mama Gator’s blood, moved in for another kill. “Get out of here, now!”

They put their poles in the water and moved away from Stefan’s thrashing body. Drawn by his struggles, the gators circled. Rowan smiled again. He couldn’t swim. If he had only stood, he would have found the water didn’t reach his chest. He screamed and waved his arms, bringing the gators to him. If he had remained still, and calm, he may have stood a chance.

Rowan watched, with pleasure this time, as the reptiles took their prey and dragged him, churning round and round, out into the deeper water. He surfaced twice, agony and terror etched into the lines of his face, before he was no more.

Monsieur Dumas grabbed her shoulders and forced her to her knees. He held her hands behind her back and tied them tightly. “You will not get a second chance. That will cost you dearly.”

“I have nothing left to lose.”

The men didn’t look at her as they navigated through the water. The sun rose higher. Mosquitoes buzzed. Now and then, a ripple disturbed the murky water. No one spoke. Monsieur Dumas stood behind her, and Rowan was tempted to lean back far enough to push him off balance. She sensed that he was the only thing keeping the other two from touching her, though, and she couldn’t fight them both. She needed him, for now.

Who was he?
She wondered. What did her mother do to anger him enough to want her dead? She had to speak to Mama, and she needed to do it soon. As they neared the shack, Jolene came out to the porch.

“Please, may I at least say good bye? I don’t even have any clothes.”

He glanced down at her, frowning. “Why should I do you any favors? You have been nothing but trouble for me since you came into this world. I only let you live because Rosaline wants you, and because it is far better to watch you suffer than to end your miserable life.”

“Why do you hate me so? I don’t even know you.”

“Oh you will know me very well soon.”

Rowan shivered at the gleam in his blue eyes. This man was evil, full of hate and bitterness.

Mama Gator had gotten the better deal in the end. At least she wouldn’t have to face him again. Rowan’s heart ached as she thought of her friend. She deserved so much better. But Rowan would exact revenge for Mama Gator. She would like that.

“You have a few minutes. Pierre will take you in. I have no wish to see that whore. I may kill her if I am forced to breathe her air.”

Rowan looked up, surprised. “Thank you”

“I am doing you no favors. Your mother has to sign some papers for Rosaline. You are now a slave
cherie
, papered and legally bound to your master. Now you have a purpose. Isn’t that a happy thing?”

Rowan bit her tongue to stop the words that erupted in her throat. He wanted to anger her and she would not give him anything he wanted. She allowed Pierre help her from the boat and then followed him up the bank to her mother. Jolene looked terrible, pale and hunched as though years had passed since Rowan ran off rather than hours.

Jolene looked to the boat and back to her daughter. “Rowan, are you okay? I didn’t know she’d send him to fetch you. I’m sorry.”

“I am only allowed a short visit, Mama. I don’t have time for this.” Rowan pushed past her and into the shack. Jolene followed while Pierre waited on the porch.

“Please, Rowan, I have to tell you some things before you go. I didn’t know he was even around.”

“Tell me then. Stop apologizing. You owe your regrets to Mama Gator, not me. She’s gone because you are so greedy. I’ll never forgive you for what they did.”

“They didn’t—”

“They did, but don’t worry. I paid them back just a bit. They are three now instead of four and soon they will be none. When I’m through with them they’ll wish they had been fed to the gators as well.”

“Oh honey, don’t you realize it’s not worth it? I did this to keep you safe. Rosaline will protect you. I don’t know why she’s involved him, but I know she will care for you. She will. She promised.”

“You’d take the word of a whore? I guess you’ve forgotten whores are not trustworthy, Mama. They’ll stab you in the back for a dollar. I know this firsthand.”

Jolene wrung her hands and a tear slipped down her cheek. Rowan looked away. She would not feel sorry for her.

“I deserved that,” Jolene whispered. “And I’m sorry you can’t understand. That man out there is Lucien Dumas. His whole family is cursed. Please, you must listen to me. He’s dangerous and you must stay away from him. Do you hear me? When you arrive at Rosaline’s you tell her I said to keep him away from you. She will listen.”

“Why Mama? What if he pays for my services? I am to turn him away? I don’t think that would be very profitable. He appears to have deep pockets.”

“There is so much I haven’t told you. I thought I’d never have to. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel unwanted. That’s not the case at all. I have no other choice.”

Rowan stormed about the room throwing things into her bag.

“I risked my life to keep you, Rowan. Lucien wanted you dead. He wanted us both dead. I could have had whatever I wanted if I got rid of you, but I didn’t. I put myself in danger because I love you. Do you understand?”

“No I don’t. I don’t care either. He is a man, just like the rest, and he can die just like you and I. When the opportunity is there, he will.”

“You’re a slave, Rowan. If you kill a white man, they’ll hang you.”

“It will be worth it.”

Jolene sighed as Rowan turned to look at her. “Lucien is your father. He denies it, but it is true.”

Rowan was dumbstruck. That disgusting beast was her father? “No Mama, you are mistaken. He cannot be my blood. I won’t believe it.”

“He doesn’t want anyone to know about you so he will try to get rid of you, I’m sure of it. You’re a reminder of all he feels he has lost because of me.”

“Don’t worry, Mama, he would rather watch me suffer.” Rowan left her mother. She stormed out of the shack and past a surprised Pierre. Though he scurried after her, Rowan got to the boat before him.

“All is well with your mother? She looks unhealthy.” Monsieur Dumas asked.

“She’s dying as you know. I’m ready to leave now.”

Pierre lifted her in the boat, his hands resting on her hips longer than necessary. Rowan glared and he winked at her. “You won’t be so angry later, ma petite. I will show you pleasure beyond your dreams.”

“Perhaps you will, but then you will die. Not such a good deal, hmmm?” Rowan turned from him and looked at the man her mother called her father. “Will you leave her to die in peace? Or will you come back and harm a dying, helpless woman?”

“I will only darken her doorstep to confirm she is gone. I have no wish to touch her, even to strangle the life from her. Is that enough?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now sit like a good girl so that I can bind your hands. Wouldn’t want you to be tempted to feed the gators once more.”

They drifted on the river in silence, arriving at the docks to the city in the dark. Rowan’s back ached When he had bound her hands, Monsieur Dumas had pulled her arms up painfully high. She said nothing but shivered at the coldness in his eyes. Did he know she was his child? Could he really be in such denial? If she was right, and she knew she was, the thoughts in his head were not exactly paternal.

They lifted her out of the boat and Pierre half dragged her to a waiting buggy. She climbed inside and was sandwiched between him and the black man.

Lucien sat opposite her and smiled. “Comfortable?”

“Very.”

“Good, I don’t want you complaining to Rosaline that you were mistreated.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He stared at her for a moment before turning to look out the small window. The carriage clattered over the deep ruts in the dirt road, stirring up dust that made her eyes burn. The smells of the town filtered through the small windows and Rowan longed for the scent of the swamp.

Garbage and animal droppings littered the streets. Women’s heels clicked on the wooden walkways that lined either side of the dirt-covered road. The racket and the odor made her head spin. How did people stand this? These people were supposed to be ‘civilized’, but Rowan didn’t see how living among filth and such noise could be considered better than the peacefulness of the swamp. She watched as a woman stopped next to a small black carriage, and gestured to the black man who sat in the seat. She wore a deep blue dress, buttoned to her neck. Rowan couldn’t see her feet beneath the voluminous garment. The woman’s face was pale, except for a dot of color in each cheek. She would be probably choked by the stifling collar.

The ride was mercifully short. She stepped out of the carriage to the first view of her new home. It looked like many of the homes in the Quarter, beautiful and grand, with fancy latticework framing a wraparound porch. The windows were decorated with lacy curtains and bushes of azaleas covered the walkway. The windows each had a small balcony, also adorned with flowers of various colors.

The men led her to the door, which opened as they went up the steps. A tall woman with dark hair piled on her head stood before them. Her eyes were nearly black, and her angular face made her more handsome than a woman should be. She smiled at Rowan and her face transformed. Such a smile could be devastating Rowan decided. It made the manly woman beautiful.

“Welcome, Rowan. I am Rosaline. I’m sorry about your poor mama. We are old friends.”

When Rowan walked past her without a word she caught the woman’s raised eyebrow.

Rosaline followed Rowan inside. “Come, I will show you to your room and then we can get to know each other. You are beautiful you know. I’m envious.”

“How sad for you,” Rowan murmured while she followed the tall woman up the winding staircase. If Rosaline heard the remark, she didn’t show it. She continued to chatter until they reached the top of the stairs.

The smell of cigar smoke mingled with sweat was nauseating. Rowan looked around her. Dread gripped her stomach and a lump formed in her throat at the numerous doors. Sconces hung beside each door they passed, the candles providing the only light in the dark paneled hall. Inside the rooms, she caught glimpses of the other women, and the clientele. A man lounged on a long couch in one room, a naked women draped over his lap. Similar scenes greeted her in each room. The men stared as she passed and a shiver of fear crept up her spine.

Rosaline stopped at the last door and turned to give Rowan a bright smile. “Now, until I say otherwise you will remain in your room, leaving only with an escort. I will not have customers seeing what they can’t have. You must learn a little bit first. I won’t have them disappointed either.”

“I don’t plan to ever come out of my room. Isn’t that convenient?”

“You will change your attitude in time.” Rosaline opened the door, revealing more stairs. Rowan followed her to the top and stepped into a smaller hallway with no lights. Her bare feet made no sound on the gleaming wood floors that felt surprisingly warm on her skin. As they walked down the dark hallway, she heard hushed noises coming from behind the few doors they passed. Suddenly, a cry of pain pierced the otherwise quiet hall and Rowan felt the first true prick of fear.

“Eventually you don’t notice that,” Rosaline said. “Once you’re trained properly, you will move to the second floor with the other girls.”

“Shouldn’t you check on her? Rowan nodded toward the source of the scream.”

Rosaline chuckled. “She is doing her job. Besides, most of it is for effect. Girls are so dramatic. They perform for the men. You too will learn. Some men like girls to cry just a little. It makes them feel masculine, and we strive to give them what they like.”

They stopped at the end of the hall. Rosaline fished a key from the bodice of her dress and unlocked the door. She motioned for Rowan to go ahead of her. Rowan inched past, hesitating when she reached the doorway. Inside was a world she only dreamed of. The large four-poster bed was covered in shiny black bedding. Red velvet drapes, trimmed in the same shimmery black material as the sheets, covered one large window that was bigger than the entire wall of her old room. The scent of roses drifted to her nose and she inhaled deeply, wanting to erase the memory of the streets from her senses.

The sound of the door closing brought her out of her shock. She turned to comment on the expensive décor but the words froze in her mouth when confronted with Rosaline’s face. Frowning now, the beautiful smile gone, Rosaline slipped the key back into her dress. Rowan backed away.

Rosaline circled her. “I know that you have had a hard time as of late. Things have changed rapidly and you are adjusting, and that is the only reason I have tolerated your insolence.”

She walked over to the large oak wardrobe placed next to the bed and opened the door. Inside was a variety of things that chilled Rowan’s blood. Whips, masks, and costumes she never could have imagined, even in her wildest dreams, hung inside.

“You are mine. I own you. Accept it and your life will be easier. I will not tolerate rudeness or disobedience. You will learn that pride is a wasted emotion. You will not need such foolishness here.”

“I’m sorry I—”

Rosaline turned. She held a thick black whip. “I did not ask you to speak, slave. I only wish for you to listen. You will not speak until you are spoken to. You will not blink unless I order you to do so. If you disobey me, you will be punished. If you question me, you will be punished. You will learn to submit or you will die. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes,” Rowan whispered.

“Yes
mistress.”

“What?” The whipped snapped and Rowan cried out as it stung her arm.

“You answer me, ‘yes Mistress’.”

“Yes Mistress, I’m sorry.” What had Mama done? This was not protection. It was Hell.

“This room will be your entire world until your training is complete. You will eat, sleep, and learn the art of pleasing a man here. The door will be locked unless I come to open it. When I bring a client in, you will do as you are told or you will be punished.” Rosaline paced the floor running the whip through her fingers.