Healing the Bayou (9 page)

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Authors: Mary Bernsen

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy, #Multicultural & Interracial, #Witches & Wizards, #paranormal romance, #Multicultural, #Interracial Romance

BOOK: Healing the Bayou
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Removing his jacket, Samuel covered my shoulders with it and I managed a half-hearted smile to show my appreciation. The man got to his feet again, though bent over and vomiting from the trauma that had just been inflicted on him.

“You get the hell out of here!” Samuel yelled.

“This is
my
territory,” the man snapped back.

“Bullshit! Right now this is Mambo Paris’s turf, but soon the woman you just attacked will be in power, and I almost pity you for that fact.”

“I possess more power in one hand than that wench Vivian has in her whole body. And this little twig, she’s an outsider. She’ll never be accepted here. Don’t deceive yourself, boy.”

“They have already accepted her.” Samuel beamed with pride as he said it. “The elders have already asked for her to stay and lead us. You’re right, you can wield more magic than Paris, but I promise you: this one is as gifted as Laveau herself. You’ve just ensured yourself a very slow and painful demise, you idiot.”

The man’s chuckle morphed into a loud, patronizing laugh. “You fool. She doesn’t even know how to use her powers. You can’t teach her in a day what I have taken a lifetime to master. And you can’t always be around protecting her, either.”

The threat echoed off the buildings that surrounded us and bounced back to fill me with dread. He was right. I had no control over my abilities, and Samuel couldn’t accompany me everywhere. If I stayed here, sooner or later I would be alone and defenseless, and this man would find me. I had little doubt it was him who had been trying to have me killed.

“Eliza.” Samuel pulled at my hips to bring my attention from my own inward thoughts. “Don’t listen to him. I’ve been protecting you this long and I will keep doing it.”

His face was so sincere and I knew he believed his own words, but I couldn’t place that burden on him. I wasn’t going to let this freak send me running for the hills either. I wasn’t raised to back down, and I wasn’t going to start with the likes of him.

“I didn’t catch your name,” I said to the man.

“Pascal Bazin. You won’t soon forget it. I guarantee it.” He snickered.

I smiled a sweetheart smile back at him. “Oh I promise I won’t forget it. In fact, I’m going to memorize it. I will master my powers, my friend. And once I have, your name will still be fresh on my shit list. Now get the hell out of here before I give my friend my blessings to finish you off.”

After executing the threat I stood tall and projected as much domination as I could. I even impressed myself. Pascal slowly retreated back in the direction from which he had emerged, but I held my stance just a little while longer to be sure he knew how deadly serious I was.

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

It was difficult to drag myself from bed the next morning. My muscles were sore. I was battered to all hell and a glimpse at my reflection made me feel even worse. My neck was bruised, my knees were skinned and black from their collision with the pavement.

I had planned to wear an adorable red sundress to try to get some sun on my fading complexion. Instead I went with a loose pair of blue jeans that wouldn’t irritate the pink skin underneath. I tried to cover the finger marks with makeup and was able to at least diminish the sight but there wasn’t any way of hiding them, so I brought my hair over my shoulders to cover at least the sides of my neck.

With much reluctance, I meandered downstairs to face the crowd of people who were sure to be asking questions about our little adventure. The truth was I didn’t mind seeing everyone else—I just didn’t want to face Samuel. My stomach was still knotted from the humiliation of his brush-off and I wanted to avoid him as much as possible the rest of my time here.

I was surprised to find only Aunt Vivian sitting down in the kitchen reading today’s newspaper.

“Where is everyone?” I asked as she looked up at me with a welcoming smile.

“Camille is still sleeping. That girl can sleep all hours of the day if you let her. And Marcus is working the morning shift at the diner.”

“I didn’t know Marcus worked with Camille.” I pulled out a chair and took a seat next to her, relaxing at the lack of company.

“Oh yes. He’s their favorite bus boy.” She giggled.

I looked around the room and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Where’s Samuel?”

“He’s outside doing some yard work. Why are we whispering?” I blushed at her pointing it out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was. Did he say anything about what happened last night?”

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to let out a gasp. “No, what happened last night?”

Her stern grimace showed she assumed the worst, and I instinctively rubbed at the marks on my neck. “No, Aunt Vivian. Nothing like that.”

“Oh.” She relaxed. “Thank the spirits. You almost gave your auntie a heart attack.

I scrunched my face at her reaction. Why would it be so terrible if Samuel and I had become involved last night? There was something going on that they weren’t telling me, and I didn’t appreciate being left in the dark. I prepared to demand an explanation, but just as I did she brushed my hair away and shrieked.

“Eliza! What happened to you?”

I don’t know why, but I was self-conscious about her finding the marks. Perhaps because I was a healer and it was naturally embarrassing that I was the one in distress. After all, I was never one to be able to ask for help. When I was six I broke my ankle falling from a tree and didn’t tell my parents about it until three days later when the pain became so agonizing I could no longer walk at all. It was a nasty habit I never quite outgrew.

“It’s nothing. Samuel and I ran into Pascal last night, and I guess he isn’t a fan of mine.”

She slammed her fists down unto the table, and I jumped.

“That son of a bitch!” she shouted. “I’ll kill him!”

“No, Aunt Vivian. It’s all right,” I soothed to calm her down. “Samuel took care of it. He won’t be bothering me again I’m sure of it.”

“Is he still alive?”

“Of course he is. I wouldn’t let Samuel kill him.”

I shrank back in my seat at the intimidating, otherworldly glare she held.

“Foolish girl. He won’t leave you be until he gets what he wants. You should have let Samuel finish him!”

“Aunt Vivian!”

I was shocked by the darkness visibly radiating from her body. Her eyes turned the same black that Samuel’s had the other night, and I had to force myself to keep from running away. I wasn’t as positive she wouldn’t harm me as I had been that Samuel wouldn’t. Still, I stood and placed my hands on her cheeks, tilting her face up to make her look into my eyes.

“I’m all right, Aunt Vivian. He didn’t hurt me badly at all. They’re just bruises. They will heal.”

Her eyes flashed back to brown far faster than Samuel’s had. I released her face once she was finished returning to herself and knelt next to her to hug her.

While I held her I couldn’t help but think of my parents. Had they ever seen my eyes flash in that way? I never had much of a temper, but I’m sure when I was a child I’d thrown tantrums at one point or another.

And Samuel’s eyes had done the same thing when he was angry. Was he a healer too? In all the commotion last night I had forgotten to ask him what it meant that he was my keeper.

I returned to my seat, and Aunt Vivian stared at me.

“Why does Pascal hate me so much?”

“Sweetie, he doesn’t hate you. He hates our family. His great-great-grandfather was a priest overthrown by Marie Laveau. It’s been a bloody war between the Bazins and the Paris ever since.”

“It seems really stupid to fight over something for so long. He called himself a houngan. What is that?”

“It’s just a fancy word for a Voodoo priest.”

“Is that what Samuel is?”

“You’re very taken with him, aren’t you?”

Biting my lip, I looked down, pretending very poorly to be distracted by a headline about the housing market.

“Eliza,” she insisted.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Aunt Vivian, I know it sounds crazy, but I feel as though I know him. It’s as if all my life he’s just been right around the corner protecting me from everything. Even though we never spoke to one another, our souls have been in contact every single day. I think I love him.”

“Well, of course you love him!” She laughed. “Eliza, he’s your keeper. You’re supposed to love him!”

“I thought he was a priest.” I had assumed I was right when she hadn’t addressed the question before, but now I wasn’t so certain.

“No, he isn’t a priest. He isn’t a healer either. He’s your keeper.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustrated by the word games. This time I wasn’t going to budge until someone answered the question.

“He’s your guardian, plain and simple. Every healer has a guardian. You see, his father pulled you from the flames of the fire in Florida when you were an infant. The only reason he even knew you were in trouble was because Samuel kept begging him to follow you. You’re connected. He can read your thoughts, so he will know if you’re safe. You’re naturally going to love the people that care for you and protect you. Deep down inside, your soul knew he was always there even though your mind didn’t.”

“So it’s a good thing? Then why is he pulling away so much?”

“Because he doesn’t love you the way a keeper is supposed to love his healer.”

“I don’t understand. He’s supposed to love me a certain way?”

“Well, yes. He’s supposed to love you in the way a parent loves their child. But he fell in love with you romantically long ago.”

Elated to finally find my feelings for him were returned, the disclosure set my heart aflutter. But she was still talking about it as though it was a curse, and I didn’t understand why.

“That sounds as if it would be a good thing. Why is that a problem for him?”

“A keeper can’t be with his healer, Eliza.”

Every bit of happiness that had just filled my heart came crashing down into my stomach as though I had swallowed a heavy brick. This explained everything. I wasn’t imagining him wanting me last night, but his willpower to respect his traditions overpowered any desire. Boiling inside my gut was a fury I had never before given in to, making my stomach churn. I would bet my own eyes were likely filled with the same blackness as Aunt Vivian’s had been just minutes ago.

“What kind of backward, third-world bull shit is that? You can’t just tell a person who they can and can’t be with anymore. Those days are long gone, and you people need to catch the hell up!” Shame would come knocking later because of the outburst, but I was glad I said the words just the same.

“Eliza, don’t get so angry. It’s tradition.”

“It’s not
my
tradition!”

“A keeper and healer can’t mate because when they have a child, the baby is too powerful! The rules are there for a reason, Eliza! Your parents were killed for the same offense. Samuel knows that, and he is just trying to save you from the same fate!”

A flame inside of me suffocated, and with a deep breath I regained my composure. Something she said did not settle well, and I needed my mind clear to process it.

“So you have tried my parents’ killer then?”

“Well, no.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t know who killed them.”

“How do you know why they were killed if you don’t know who did it? That doesn’t make any sense!”

She shrugged. Her voice splintered and eventually broke under her guilt. “It’s just a theory we have.”

“It’s a theory you have?” I echoed. “You just basically told me my parents were murdered because of me and it was all because of a theory?”

I didn’t believe it for a second. Her eyes told me more than her mouth would, and they were screaming there was more to the story. She knew who killed my parents. Why the hell wouldn’t she tell me? If she was right that I was a forbidden offspring, it would explain why someone was trying to kill me.

Suddenly I was flooded with a fear that this would never stop. Anywhere I went someone would be looking for me. I was seen as a child of sin to these people. So, why did they want me to stay? Paranoia set in and I searched for a sign that my being here was a trap. Was my aunt setting me up for an ambush?

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything, and I’m sorry for that. But look at you, Eliza!” She gestured to me. “You hold more power in your hands than I have seen in my entire lifetime. Even after centuries of our blood being diluted by being mixed with regular mortals, you turned out just as strong as a full-blooded healer would have been centuries ago. So imagine if you and Samuel had children?”

“That isn’t your decision to make for me.”

“But it is!”

“Why?” I needed to know why she thought she had the power to instruct me in this or anything else.

“Because you’re our prophet! You’re the one we have been waiting for. With you as our priestess, the world will again look to us with shaking knees. Our way of life will no longer be something out of the world of fairytale books and we won’t have to keep hiding from the ones who do know we are real.”

“I didn’t ask to be your prophet! I didn’t even say I wanted to be a part of this world. Were you even going to tell me about the baptism?”

The memory of her deception came rushing back and my face burned hot again. Rage was taking me over again, and I was standing over her before I even had another thought. Apparently I did share Pascal’s quickness. It just took blind fury to reveal itself to me. Staring up at me, Aunt Vivian looked terrified, and I couldn’t blame her for her fear since even I did not know this side of myself.

“I…I was afraid you would say no.”

Clawing onto the remaining small piece of the Eliza I knew, I forced myself to walk away. She knew I would say no, and she also knew I would be much less likely to decline in front of a crowd of people that were praying for their prophet’s initiation.

I opened the front door to leave just as Samuel was running up the porch steps. I was almost swept away by the sight of him. He was shirtless, and beads of sweat fell down his sculpted abdominal muscles. Only briefly did I allow myself to tense at the vision before I reminded myself he hadn’t told me any of this either. I was just as mad at him as I was Aunt Vivian.

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