Sweet Evangeline (Moon Magic Book 2) (23 page)

* * * *

Eric refused to give up. He flatly refused to process it. He went engagement ring shopping, returning with a magnificent deep-purple Brazilian amethyst surrounded by white diamonds. And he fully intended to place it on Evangeline’s finger as soon as possible. He would stay away from her for a while, but if they thought that a little thing like the threat of death could keep him away from her, well then, they had another think coming.

He wasn’t the only one that was determined. Jade and Tyler were as focused as he was, and they had babies on the way. In fact, they talked about the children as much as they talked about their wives. It made Eric want a baby with Evangeline. Just thinking about her belly swelling with his child was enough to drive him quietly mad. He wanted everything with her—a child, a home, a future. And he would damn-well have it!

Philippe went back over and over the diary. Jade and Tyler studied his notes and Eric spent time with Nanette and Angelique. He had seen them perform miracles and he expected another one. There had to be another one.

“If a spell can be cast, it can be broken can’t it?” he pressed Angelique.

“Yes, but usually a spell must be broken by the person who cast it and in that case we’re about two hundred and fifty years too late.” It hurt for her to tell him this. She looked at this man who was visibly suffering.

“Evangeline said you can communicate with spirits.” Eric was desperate.

“That’s true.” Angelique looked at him strangely.

“Well, let’s ask Genevieve how to reverse the spell.”

Angelique smiled. “Well, look at you. You may have found the answer.”

The candles flickered, casting weird shadows all over the room. If the situation weren’t so dire, it might have been intriguing, but Eric, Tyler, and Jade were betting their futures on the outcome of this mystical exercise. They sat around the dining table, hands just touching. There was absolute silence in the room. Eric didn’t really know what to expect, but he was praying for a miracle.

In the center of the table, on a portable hot plate, a small cauldron boiled with rosemary, cypress, and yarrow root. Nanette took her athame and pricked her finger, adding her own blood to the mix. She began to chant.

Genevieve Romee - ancestor of old

I call thee sure, I call thee bold

Power of the Goddess rise

Fly unseen across the skies

Come to us, travel near

Come to us and listen clear

Blood to blood, I summon thee

Blood to blood, return to me

As she finished, there was deathly silence. Eric held his breath, his eyes searching the darkness. He stared just outside the circle in which he sat.
God, please let this wor
k
. It had only been three days without Evangeline, yet it had seemed like three years. Never in his lifetime had he known such a complete dependence on another human being, but Evangeline was as necessary to him as the oxygen in the air. Suddenly, Tyler clutched his hand.

“Look,” he whispered. Across the room, an unearthly glow became evident. Gradually, it grew larger and moved closer. There were audible gasps and movements around the table, three brave men were seeing something that was at the same time both unnerving and welcome. From a column of undulating mist, a figure became clear—insubstantial, yet clear enough to see a disturbing resemblance to both Arabella and Evangeline. Eric’s heart lurched at the realization that if this didn’t work, he might never hold his beloved again.

Nanette spoke softly. “Most revered ancestor, witch of great power. You are welcome in our midst.”

“Why have you called me?” The English was heavily accented, and the voice was low and sultry.

“We are in need of your assistance, Grandmother.” Nanette continued. “We are in possession of your memoirs; we have read your heartache. We know about the curse you placed on the men in our lives. But now, we beg you to tell us how to reverse this spell. We have lost too many good men. I understand your frustration and your anger, but sitting here are three men who love daughters of your blood. We implore you; tell us how to save their lives. Reveal to us how to break the curse you placed on our family so long ago.”

At first, it appeared that Genevieve would not answer. Her eyes moved around the table and she, seemingly, took the measure of the men that bravely held the gaze of the long-dead witch. Finally, she spoke. “Do you still have the sampler that I stitched of my wedding vows?”

“Yes,” Nanette answered. “It has been preserved.” The ancient piece of cloth lay in the same safety deposit box that had held the diary.

“Destroy it, and you are only one step away from breaking the curse.” With those few short words, Eric started to jump to his feet.

“Hold on, sweet boy. We’re not through.” Nanette restrained the anguished young man.

“Grandmother Genevieve, if we burn the sampler, what else is there to be done?” Nanette was afraid they were about to hear a directive that would be hard to fathom.

The words she spoke were filled with a bitterness that not even two centuries could obliterate. “A sacrifice must be made.”

“What kind of sacrifice?” Jade asked, afraid.

Nanette held her hand up to quite the men. Pissing off an ancient witch was not the smartest move they could make. “Grandmother, this request is not made lightly. This world is not the same one you left. Women are protected by the law, now. There are many men who truly treasure their wives, as these three do. I beg your mercy; please help us break this spell. I lost a man that I loved dearly and both my daughters have lost a husband. You alone can help us, please find it in your heart to change the destinies of these good men.”

The spirit hesitated, and Eric was afraid she would just disappear and leave them without hope. As if considering, Genevieve bowed her head. Slowly, she began to speak. “Events have already been put into motion. The very fabric of time and space is about to be torn asunder.”

“What does she mean?” Tyler was as anxious as any of the rest of them.

“What can we do to fix this, Grandmother?” Nanette spoke, once again, to the spirit.

Looking at each of the men in turn, she shocked them with her next revelation. “The three of you can change the future. And destiny will be changed for two of you,”

“What does she mean?” Eric looked at Nanette.

Genevieve did not wait for another question. “All of you must promise and agree that you are willing to give up everything to save your family.” The men looked at one another. This was a given.

Nanette prompted the spirit. “You didn’t have that kind of love, did you? Your husband wasn’t willing to put you first. The husband of your daughter wasn’t willing to put her first. That kind of devotion and willingness to sacrifice is hard for you to put your faith and trust in, isn’t it?”

“It is not something that I am familiar with,” the spirit was honest. “The three of you can destroy the sampler and when you do, make a solemn vow you will give up your very life for your wife and family. Do this together, and do it during the dark of the moon. In your solemnity, shed your blood. Then, return to your beloved and value every day that you are given.”

“That promise will be easy to make.” Jade assured her.

“Yes, the promise will be easy to make, but one of you will be required to keep it. Soon, you will be tested. The storms of destiny are churning and your world will be turned upside down. One of you will be required to make an impossible decision.”

“Which one of us?” Eric asked, his heart in his throat.

“That I can’t tell you.” Genevieve Romee looked at each one of them one last time. “I wish you well.” Then, she faded from sight, returning to the shadow realm from which she had come.

For long moments, they all remained at the table. “What did she mean?” Jade finally asked.

“The Lord only knows.” Nanette put her head in her hands.

Angelique was the first to stand up. “Gentlemen, this is what we know. You can break the curse. Go with Philippe and retrieve the sampler. Bring it back here and destroy it together. Then, the three of you must combine your blood and make a vow that you will be willing to die for your beloved if fate requires it. Are you willing to do that?”

“What are we waiting for? I’m ready to go home.” Eric looked at the other three. “I know none of you has a problem with this. Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Angelique wasn’t through. “We have no idea what Genevieve meant. But, understand…something is coming and we may not all survive it.”

“Well, then we better make good use of the time we have left.” Tyler spoke for all of them.

Philippe wasted no time before he retrieved the ancient sampler from the bank vault. With great ceremony, Eric, Jade, and Tyler burned the scrap of cloth that had been woven with poisonous herbs and unshakeable hate. With the dissipating smoke, they had drawn blood with Nanette’s athame and vowed with clasped hands to protect their families, even at the cost of their own lives. None of them considered it a sacrifice at all. Knowing the future was uncertain only made the present more precious, so after the ceremony, they wasted no time in returning to their hearts’ desires. Jade’s plane was ready and waiting and all during the brief plane ride, Eric planned the words he would say

* * * *

Evangeline ran her hands over the cold, lifeless sculpture. She pressed her lips to the still, hard chest—reliving in her mind the warmth of his skin, the strong beat of his heart. How could she go on? Every moment she lived without him was soul-wrenching torture. Sinking to the floor, she laid her head against the muscled leg—the creation of her own hands. There were no more tears to cry, she had wept for days and now exhaustion and weariness were her constant companions. There had been no word from New Orleans, and to Evangeline, no word translated into no hope.

She had to have hope. There was simply no choice. There was more than just her and Eric to worry about now. Last night she had created a new sculpture. A tender rendering of what should be. And one day soon, she hoped to present it to Eric as a tangible, visible, proof of her love.

In her mind’s eyes she relived the joy of her time with Eric. She daydreamed in order to experience again the excitement of their initial meeting. Eric had been shocked to find the nude figures of himself at the charity benefit. Evangeline ran her hands over her arms, imagining the feel of his touch, the warmth of his embrace. Shutting her eyes, she saw again the wonder and excitement, the sexual interest, when they had both felt the demanding attraction that had overwhelmed their first encounter.

Huddled alone on the floor, she relived their lovemaking; she replayed their whispers and their tender declarations of love and longing. How was she going to live without him? Was this punishment for her chosen lifestyle? Was she so evil that she deserved a lifetime of regret and loneliness?

And this was the way Eric would find her.

* * * *

The house was empty. Eric searched every room, shouting her name. There was no evidence she had been in any of the rooms at all. Panic tore through his thoughts. Then, looking out the kitchen window, he saw a light shining on the porch of Evangeline’s studio. Racing out the back door, the crescent moon hanging high and bright overhead, he bounded up the steps and pushed the wooden door open.

There was no sound.

There was no light.

Afraid to breathe, Eric allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

And then he saw her.

She lay on the floor at the feet of the statue she had named Angel – the statue she had carved of him. One hand was curved protectively around the bare foot of the stone piece, as if preserving a tenuous connection. His eyes devoured her. His Evangeline. His precious Evangeline. His sweet Evangeline.

Lowering himself to the floor, he molded his body to hers, troubled to find she was completely chilled. Almost immediately, the warmth of his presence brought a subconscious reaction from her. With a jerk, she turned over, melting into him, seeking his warmth and his strength. He gathered her to him, sheltering her, engulfing her against his powerful frame. Eric realized she was still asleep; her reaction to him was instinctual. Brushing his lips over her temple, he whispered to her, “Sweetheart, wake up. I’m here. It’s over.”

Deep in the throes of slumber, Evangeline reacted to his voice. She whimpered his name, still in her dream world. 

Her lips found his throat.

Tears dampened both of their skin.

Her voice tore at the moorings of his heart. “Oh, Eric. I miss you so. I can’t live like this. I don’t want to live like this.”

“Wake up, sweet baby. This isn’t a dream. Open your eyes, darling.” He held her face, his fingers at her jaw, tilting it up for his kiss. Gently he moved his lips over her closed eyes, soothing her, waking her tenderly.

Evangeline’s whole body came alive and Eric absorbed the frantic movement. “Precious baby, I’m with you. This isn’t a dream.” She pressed herself impossibly close to him, forcing one of her legs between the two of his, massaging the muscles of his back with her palms. If she could have climbed into his skin, she would have.