Healing the Bayou (16 page)

Jim was perched on the couch, fidgeting with the hem of his pant leg and notably nervous. I pitied him. He hid his uncertainty the moment I came in the room and there was something in the way he was so intent on seeming willing that was becoming suspicious to me.

“I was told you weren’t feeling very well,” he inquired. “If you would prefer I could come back another day. Sometime next week perhaps.”

“Jim,” Vivian snapped, “there is no other day. She needs to be ready by Saint John’s Eve.”

He winced at her words. “Yes, all right then. Let’s get started?”

“Mr. Stuart”—I sat down beside him—“if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.”

Glancing nervously at Aunt Vivian, he didn’t wait for her to tell him it wasn’t the case. “I want to help you.”

I sighed. Whatever hold she had on him was stronger than his natural desire to keep from harming himself. And something told me he would put himself in more danger if he didn’t help me, so I left it alone.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked Aunt Vivian, unable to hide the contempt I was feeling for her in that moment.

“First,” she started, “you’ll need to learn to only expel as much magic as you require.”

She took my hand and turned my palms to the ceiling.

“Concentrate on your fingertips. Imagine the invisible light that passes between you and your subject.”

I thought I was starting to hallucinate from the hunger, but my hands actually started to glow, and the light grew brighter the harder I studied them.

“That’s it,” Aunt Vivian whispered. “Now, pull the light back in.”

“How?”

“Use your mind. Will it back inside of you.”

Breathing deep, I focused on reabsorbing the energy that flowed from my flesh, and to my surprise the light slowly dimmed.

She directed my hands to Jim’s forearm. He was visibly shaking with fear. I wanted so badly to comfort him, but I didn’t know how.

“Stop!” Aunt Vivian shouted. “You’re losing control of it. Don’t think about him. Think only about what you’re doing.”

In the brief moment I had lost focus, my progress was lost. I started again. This time I willed the light out completely, and became brave enough to touch him on my own. My mind did not leave my task when I slipped my hand into his. Squeezing his sweaty palm, I was greeted by no unpleasant sensation whatsoever, and he didn’t appear to be in pain either.

“Perfect!” Aunt Vivian raved. “Now, you’ll need to learn how to heal someone properly. Very slowly, let only a little of the essence escape.”

I slowed my breathing and focused on imagining that I allowed only droplets of light to make their way out of my fingertips and enter his skin. He relaxed under my grasp, but I tensed at the familiar feeling of pressure usually preceding the pain. I was relieved when it didn’t progress beyond a mild stinging sensation, and after a moment I released him.

“I did it!” I was giddy with excitement. “That was amazing! Jim, are you all right?”

He looked melted into his seat, completely relaxed and grinning like a fool. “I feel wonderful. I feel completely recharged. It’s almost as if I’m a teenager again.”

“With a little bit of practice it will be second nature to you,” Aunt Vivian assured me. “You won’t even realize you’re repressing it.”

“And I’ll be able to touch anyone without hurting myself?” I swung around to make sure Samuel was listening.

His brows were arched in surprise at how well I had done and I was even more proud of myself because of it.

“Yes.” Aunt Vivian hesitated. “But you’ll keep in mind what we talked about?”

It was obvious she was referring to Samuel and me, but since she was the one who was actually in the dark, I dismissed the question.

“Samuel,” I patted the vacant couch cushion next to me, “come over here. I want to try it on you.”

Chapter Fourteen

By the time Saint John’s Eve came, I was even frailer than ever. Marcus and Samuel both had to carry me to the cemetery where the ceremony would be held, and Aunt Vivian made a point of claiming I was simply being over-dramatic about the severity of my condition. I pointed out that she wouldn’t know, since she never had a proper initiation she never had to fast. At least not for this long.

This revelation was made to me by mistake, of course, briefly after Jim left. During a casual dinner conversation I asked her why she hadn’t advanced in the ranks. Having had one too many glasses of wine, she let it slip that she was fully aware of the fact that the only reason she held the position she did was because my mother had passed away. It wasn’t because of her age that my mother was next in line. In fact, Marie was five years younger than Aunt Vivian. But Aunt Vivian wasn’t a very strong healer, and in this world the more spiritually powerful you were the farther fate would carry you.

She even got a little misty-eyed when she talked about me being the new matriarch. Filomèz was right: she knew her fate. I actually let myself feel sorry for her for a moment. Until she made a rude crack about not being keen on handing the kingdom over to an outsider—me. That’s when I figured out she didn’t look at me as her family even the slightest bit. To her I was just a nobody who was here to steal her throne.

None of that mattered now. We were now approaching the moment that would change all of our lives and I was excited, terrified, and unnerved.

The night had fallen and I sat bare-skinned on the concrete bench on the inside of the familiar crypt from my dream. It was a compact space, but not nearly as stuffy as one might think it would be. Marcus had cleaned the cobwebs out the night before so I wouldn’t be distracted by my phobia of them. He said my mind needed to be as clear as possible for Damballah to make use of our conduit, but I preferred to think he was just being a sweetheart.

After soaking the ceremonial cloth in a well that took up most of the room, Samuel wrung it out over my legs, letting the liquid drip down them.

“How is it so warm?” I was expecting it to be room temperature at best, but it was as if the water was taken straight from a hot tub.

“A few hundred years ago, a witch put a spell on it,” Samuel explained.

“Wait, there are witches?”

Half of his upper lip curled, and he smirked at my ignorance. “Many of the things you have been taught to be fiction are indeed very real.”

“Oh.” College degree or not, this place made me feel incredibly uneducated. “Is that what I’m considered? A witch?”

“No. You’re a healer.”

“What’s the difference?”

He arched his eyebrows. “You don’t cast spells.”

Duh. I guess that was kind of obvious.

“Why did she put a spell on it?”

“This well was the only source of water for many of the settlers back then. The white settlers were wiping out anything they considered to be supernatural. Anything they weighed as a threat to their dominance. The witch had been captured and she was set to be taken to Salem so she could be executed. She escaped just long enough to come here and make sure her vengeance would keep on living even after her death.”

“What kind of spell did she put on it?” I was trying very hard to concentrate on what he was saying, but I was distracted by how much I enjoyed the feeling of his fingers massaging into my muscles as he scrubbed.

“A repeal spell. Anyone who drank from the well would be stripped of their powers.”

I jerked away from him. “Is that what is going to happen to me?”

“You’re not drinking it. You’re washing in it.” He took my leg and washed my calf. “All the magic that has been taken from millions of people is stored here. That’s why it’s warm: you’re feeling the pure energy of sorcery. Since you’re magical, your body will absorb it.”

“That doesn’t make sense. The settlers were from England. They weren’t witches. They wouldn’t have any magic for the well to take.”

He rolled his eyes at my naivety. “Think about it, Eliza. Do you really think a race of mortals really overpowered every single supernatural population without any help?”

“I don’t know,” I snapped. “You have to remember I was taught a very different version of history than you were.”

“Sorry.” He winced. “I guess when you grow up around it all, it’s hard to imagine not knowing about it. Anyway, the Christians used fear to eradicate our people. And by our people, I mean Voodoo and Native American alike. Along with witches, shifters, vampires. All of us.”

“Vampires?”

“Not the sex-fueled vampires of Hollywood, but vampires are a thing of reality. The church took on all of us, and won. If you ask them, they’ll tell you that it’s because God was on their side. But their walls were infiltrated by fallen angels who used their knowledge to wipe us all out so they could take over. If it wasn’t for the mother witch they might have been even more successful than they were. She took away their power so they could no longer take ours.”

“What are you?” I narrowed my eyes on him, expecting some out-of-this-world explanation.

“I’m a keeper.”

“Besides that! Your eyes shift when you’re angry the same way Aunt Vivian’s do.”

“Anyone who has otherworldly gifts does that. It’s kind of genetic.”

“OK.” I frowned, disappointed in the anticlimactic nature of it. “What about your heritage?”

“Is everybody ready?” Camille’s shrill voice was approaching from outside.

“Shit!” Samuel cursed.

“Seriously?” Blatantly annoyed with our lack of progress, she barged in paying absolutely no attention to the part where I was in my birthday suit. “Legba and Marassa have already been summoned and left. You should be dressed already. You’re going to put us way behind.”

Camille was wrapped a loose-fitting white robe, and her hair fell effortlessly in soft beach-tussled perfection. My own insecurity were creeping up on me again, and I pushed it out of my mind, hoping to have done it before Samuel caught it. He always chastised me for being so critical of myself.

“Sorry.” I knew I sounded insincere because I was. “We were just talking.”

She smacked her lips. “Yeah, I’m sure. Samuel, maybe you should head out. I can dress her. It’ll get done faster this way.”

In one swift move Samuel flew across the marble pathway and towered over the pretty blonde girl, who right now, next to Samuel’s huge build, looked more like a porcelain doll than a person. I didn’t think I could ever get used to how quickly he could move, especially considering his size.

“You will not touch her,” he growled in a frightening, dark tone.

“Samuel!” Even I was surprised by this show of barbaric domination despite knowing the intention behind it was nothing more than him trying to protect me.

Fear started to make its way into Camille’s eyes, but she never let her chin fall. Her posture was fierce and erect with her hands clenched at her sides. Her stare was just as fiery as his was.

It was in this moment I finally came to terms with the fact that it wasn’t her beauty I was really jealous of. I envied her confidence. A long, tense moment passed before she finally relented. It was a battle of who was more stubborn, and Samuel had won this time.

“Fine.” She waved her hand in his face. “Hurry it up. Vivian is getting antsy.” Mumbling something under her breath, she turned on her heels and stormed out.

“Why did you get so upset? She was only trying to help.” I was afraid to ask.

“I’m not sure. It was as if someone else was controlling me.” He looked confused, almost pained, but he shrugged it off. “It doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s finish up.”

He silently washed the rest of me, and I stood for him to pull another white dress over my body. This one was a little more flattering. Not sexy by any means, but at least it hugged in the right places instead of falling over me with the appeal of a baggy sack.

He pulled my hair up tight into a soaking wet, messy bunch of tiny curls, and he wrapped a white scarf around and under it.

He was in the same badass biker get-up I had dreamed he would be wearing. The black collared shirt was unbuttoned just the same, and I had to force myself not to stare at the teasing perfection that barely showed in between the fabric. I could get lost looking at him. Time would stop if I didn’t keep my guard up.

“Let’s go.” He ushered me out of the chambers, and we strode out into the cemetery.

I was seriously unprepared for the amount of people in attendance. A sea of hundreds of people watched me emerge from the structure. A crowd mixed of all colors and classes. I had no idea there were so many Voodoo practitioners hidden in this city.

I recognized many of the people from the brief time I walked the streets of New Orleans, but every single one of them looked at me as if they knew exactly who I was. I wasn’t a stranger to any of them, and I didn’t feel as though any of them were strangers to me either. The feeling of belonging was incredible. I had never received this kind of acceptance, this kind of community. I had made the right choice by staying here, I knew that now. I could never find this anywhere else.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Aunt Vivian found her place by my side. Her head was held high with pride as she stepped in front of me, taking the lead to the altar. The members in the audience were not eager to let her push me behind her. Their loud protests echoed off the tombstones but she ignored them, which only angered them even more.

Samuel and Marcus intervened before the crowd did. Taking hold of her arms, they forced her to slow her pace so I could catch up. When we were again side by side, they let her walk alone.

From the corner of my eye, I could not miss the rage building up on her face and truth be told I could not blame her for being angry. We could not afford any time for her to throw a temper tantrum whether it was warranted or not, so I decided it was up to me to diffuse the situation.

Once we reached the altar I took Aunt Vivian’s hands and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I won’t let them forget what you have done for them,” I whispered to her. And I wouldn’t.

The last few days revealed a lot about my aunt Vivian. Many members of her congregation came to visit me while she was out and about running errands, expressing their concerns regarding her leadership.