Authors: Abbi Glines
Tags: #fiction, #romance, #paranormal, #young adult, #fiction fantasy epic
“Okay, listen. If you do this for
me I’ll... I’ll send Wyatt’s soul to you. You’ll even be able to
talk to him. His soul is different when it isn’t on the earth. Once
a soul without a body leaves the earth and dwells in the afterlife
it can speak. It is only on earth that it requires a body for
communication. However, when he speaks to you it will be different.
He won’t do so with his mouth. His voice will be in your head. His
soul will speak to your soul.”
Wyatt. I could see and talk to
Wyatt. I stood up and walked around the bed toward the door. “Okay,
let’s do this.”
Leif laughed from behind me, “I
must make a note of this. I just have to find the correct incentive
to get you up and moving. Wish I’d thought about Wyatt earlier. And
you can’t wear that to dinner. Ghede requires proper respect.
You’ll need to dress according to his wishes.”
“Well, Ghede will have to get over
it because when you drove me off the freaking bridge I only had a
pair of jeans, a sweater and a leather jacket. I didn’t exactly
pack for this excursion.”
Grinning, Leif gave a small hand
gesture that looked more like a pathetic attempt at waving off a
fly. “There, you look lovely and father will be
pleased.”
Glancing down I sucked in a breath.
I had been unaware that I had any cleavage but the tight bust of
the ridiculously extravagant dress had my boobs pushed up to my
nose. Or so it seemed. The skirt of the dress stood out around me
like a hoop. What was this the 1800s?
“Why did you just put me in a
Scarlett O’Hara dress? You all are aware that we moved past this
fashion more than a hundred years ago?”
Leif chuckled and offered me his
elbow, “My father enjoys a party. Mardi Gras is his favorite time
of year. Today Mardi Gras is in full swing along the streets of New
Orleans so father holds his own celebrations down here. He’ll
likely throw beads at everyone at the table and serve us all King
Cake. You’ll like him, really. He is known for being the life of
the party.”
“Really? And here I thought he was
known for being the wicked evil spirit of the dead. Silly
me.”
Leif shook his head at me, “You
can’t say things like that, Pagan. He won’t approve. I can’t keep
him from punishing you. Please watch what you say. If you anger him
I won’t be able to bring Wyatt to you tonight.”
That was enough to shut me up. I’d
have to bite my tongue and deal with it. Glaring down at the
lavender gown and dark purple beads that adorned it I wondered if I
would have to endure these ridiculous dresses every night. If so,
did that mean I’d get to see Wyatt?
“Come on. Dinner awaits and you’ve
got to be hungry.”
My stomach growled in reply and
Leif grinned before opening the door and allowing me to step out.
This time there were no smelly streets. Instead, the wide hallway
was lit with gas lanterns and ornate carvings along the walls of
masks. They were the sort of masks you see in pictures of costume
balls. Fancy and well... exquisite were the only ways to describe
them.
“These are all memories from Mardi
Gras past. Each year father holds a costume ball on Fat Tuesday and
every mask in attendance is forever remembered on these
walls.”
If I didn’t despise everything
about this place I might find that interesting.
Chapter Twenty
Dank
Pagan’s mother was
grieving. I could hear her pain from outside the house. I’d been
gone for two days looking for some way to penetrate Vilokan. But
Pagan wouldn’t want her mother to mourn her death. She wouldn’t
want to know her mother was having a complete emotional breakdown.
Right now this was the only thing I could do for her and in return
I could find out if there was anything her mother remembered about
that night in the voodoo doctor’s shack.
Knocking on the door would be what
she expected. She saw me as Pagan’s boyfriend. If I wanted her to
believe I was not human I’d have to arrive a different way. I just
hoped I didn’t scare her too badly.
I appeared on the bar stool
directly in front of Pagan’s mother. She was sitting at the table
with a cup of coffee. I could smell the whiskey in her drink.
Sunken eyes that were highlighted with dark rings from no sleep
lifted to meet my gaze. Surprisingly, she didn’t even flinch.
Instead, she stared directly at me and studied me silently. There
were no tear streaks running down her face. Those had all been
cried out. Her face was one of complete loss and heartbreak. I’d
seen this expression on other mothers as they faced the loss of
their child. But this mother’s pain caused my chest to hurt. Maybe
because I shared that pain. Although I knew Pagan wasn’t dead, she
was gone. For now.
“Dank,” she finally spoke. Her
voice was raw and raspy from little use.
“Yes,” I replied, waiting on her to
say more.
She didn’t right away. Her head
tilted and she searched my face for the answers to the questions I
knew were piling up in her head. She thought she’d drunk herself to
sleep and was dreaming. Possibly hallucinating. Several different
explanations ran through her foggy thoughts.
“How did you--?” She trailed off
not sure exactly what to say. How did I just appear out of nowhere?
I could still see the uncertainty in her eyes.
“Because I’m not a human. I’m
something more.” I let her soak in that information.
She took a weary sigh and pushed
the cup of coffee and whiskey away from her, “Well, I’ve had too
much of that I guess.”
“I’m not a hallucination. I’ve been
here in your house most nights since the moment Pagan’s soul was
marked for death. Watching her.”
“You knew she was going to die?”
Her mother’s question was a mix of confusion and anger.
Shaking my head I held her gaze.
“No. Pagan isn’t dead. I didn’t allow her to die in the car
accident months ago that should have taken her life and she didn’t
die when her car went off that bridge.”
Pushing herself back away from the
table her mother stood up. “I need to go to bed. I’m not sleeping
and now I’m losing my mind,” she muttered.
I stood up and moved into her path
stopping her. “No. You aren’t. I’m real and I am telling you Pagan
is alive. Her soul is still with her body. However, the voodoo
spirit you sold it to when she was a child has a claim on it and
right this very moment he has her. I need you to listen to me,
believe me and help me.”
Slowly her mother’s face turned
from one of disbelief to horror. Backing up until her legs met the
leather chair behind her and she fell back into it, the
understanding sank in. I wasn’t sure if she believed it or not but
she knew my words held some truth.
“Voodoo spirit?” she whispered
brokenly.
“Yes, the one you opened Pagan’s
soul up to when you took her to the voodoo doctor in order to save
her life.”
She
shook her head and lifted her eyes back to mine, “I never promised
her soul. I’d never do something like that. I just asked that they
perform whatever special magic or miracle potion to heal her. The
nurse, the nurse said that her grandmother could help us. I was
desperate and willing to try any other avenue. Traditional medicine
wasn’t working. I figured the herbs and natural remedies the old
woman had might have some chance of doing something the doctors
couldn’t. I never... never... promised her
soul
.”
Humans were so
naïve
to the
supernatural powers around them. So many believed things all had an
easy explanation. The concepts of magic and powers were so
far-fetched that they assumed it was a natural cure. That a medical
explanation would cover it all. “Voodoo isn’t herbs and natural
remedies. It’s a religion. One that is made powerful by evil
spirits when humans believe in them. If you don’t believe then it
can’t harm you. But if you ever entrust it to answer your request
you are in debt to the spirit that responds. You wanted to save
your daughter’s life. There is only one voodoo spirit that can do
that. A powerful one. The spirit lord of the dead can grant life.
He’s fond of granting the lives of children. But not because he is
malevolent. Because then he owns their soul. You asked the voodoo
doctor to do whatever she could. She herself could do nothing.
She’s just a vessel used by the voodoo spirits. However, Ghede, the
spirit lord of the dead, could do something. And he did. He gave
Pagan life when it was her fate to pass on. Her soul was to have a
short life this time. Her next life would have been longer. But
this life was to end. You allowed evil to change that because you
weren’t willing to let her go. Now, Ghede has come to claim what is
rightfully his.”
She didn’t speak right away. I
watched as my words sunk in and she digested everything I’d told
her. It wasn’t easy for humans to understand. At least not the
spiritual ones. But I hoped that because she had experienced the
power of voodoo all those years ago she’d at least open her
mind.
“You’re telling me Pagan is with...
she’s in--”
“Vilokan, the afterlife or
spiritual realm where the spirits of voodoo dwell. She’s there in
human form. They can’t take her soul from her body without Death
and I can assure you Death will not take her soul.” Explaining to
her that I was Death would be pushing things a little too far.
She’d taken in all her mind could handle.
“How do I...? What do I do? If
she’s in Vilokan is there a way I can ask for her back? What? How
do I fix this?”
“You don’t. But I will. I just need
you to think about that night. From the moment the nurse came and
got you to the moment Pagan was cured. Then I need you to remember
Pagan’s childhood. There was this boy, a blond boy, that came into
her life several times. I need you to try very hard to remember him
and tell me everything. Even if you think it isn’t important. I
need to know.”
She nodded her head and then
frowned, “And I’m not asleep. This isn’t a dream?”
“No, you’re very awake. In fact why
don’t you go make yourself a cup of coffee without the whiskey this
time? I need you as alert as you can be.”
“Yes, okay, um, do you drink
coffee?” she asked turning back to look at me.
“No, thank you. I’m fine,” I
assured her and she hurried into the kitchen to fix her cup. I
stood up and walked over to the mantle and picked up one of the
many pictures of Pagan lined up on it. She was smiling brightly at
the camera with her arms slung over the shoulders of Wyatt and
Miranda. I rubbed the pad of my thumb over her sweet smile then put
the picture back in its place.
“I just thought of something.
Miranda’s mother said Leif was in the car with her and he’s missing
too.”
Without turning around to face her
I replied, “Yes, I imagine so. Considering Leif is the son of
Ghede.”
Her loud gasp followed by the
clatter of her cup hitting the tile floor reminded me I was dealing
with a human here. One that, unlike Pagan, hadn’t been seeing souls
all her life. I really needed to monitor what I said more
carefully.
Pagan
When I’d allowed
myself to dwell on Ghede never once did I imagine what I was seeing
at the head of the twenty-foot long table. Leaning back with a
sinister grin on his face was a tall figure in a black top hat, a
pair of dark sunglasses and two cigarettes hanging from his mouth.
From what I could tell he was wearing a tuxedo with tails. Both of
his feet were propped up on the table as he reclined in the
enormous carved marble and satin chair that reminded me more of a
throne in a princess movie. Except, like most of the other items in
the room, it was black.
Leif had placed us directly to the
right of him and he was smiling proudly like he’d brought his
prized possession to impress his father.
A scantily dressed woman placed a
large silver cup in front of me and I was a little concerned her
boobs were going to pop out in my face. I was terrified to drink or
eat anything a bunch of voodoo spirits dined on but I also wanted
to see Wyatt. So I forced myself to pick up the cup and lift it to
my lips. The stench burned my nose and I quickly set it back down.
There was no way I was drinking that.
Loud cackling laughter startled me
and I jerked my attention from the offensive drink to see Ghede
slap the table with one hand and laugh amazingly loudly without
once dropping a cigarette from his mouth.
“She amuses me son,” he bellowed
and the rest of the attendees at the table joined in on his
laughter.
Leif’s hand reached for mine under
the table in an attempt to squeeze it and I jerked it away quickly.
I didn’t want him to touch me.
“You don like de rum do ya gurl,”
Ghede stated for the rest of the table to hear.
Rum. So that was what it was. No, I
didn’t like the rum.
“No,” I replied, unable to hold his
piercing stare even with those dark glasses of his on. You could
still feel it.
“Ah, we might need to fix
dat.”
Highly unlikely.