Bayou Summons Read online

  “It’s who you’re here for, isn’t it?” A tremor rumbled through the stone as he threw his head back and laughed again. “How did I not see it right away? You’ve come seeking answers. Answers to your questions regarding… a certain female?”

  Feeling the anger bubble up inside him, Cayden growled, lunging forward and knocking over a chair. Stopping a few feet from Alsandair, he slowly regained control. Through clenched teeth, he spoke. “Why do you care about her?” Wanting to mask his internal battle, he stood, waiting for a response.

  “Oh, well, I have a very vested interest in this particular female. If she were any other, I’d hardly notice her. After all, she isn’t anything like I envisioned.” He remembered the anticipation of dark hair curled around his fingers as he pulled, the fantasy damaged as he watched through Elena’s eyes and saw his fellow necromancer for the first time. Her light hair and able body had done nothing for his loins. But, then he thought of everything he could make her do, all the power he would have with the little light-haired wench under his control, and his length had grown, becoming hard in impatience to sink into her.

  He had known Elena might do something stupid. She had become increasingly annoying with her stubborn protests against his orders. He had warned her several times and this time had been a mission in which he could not afford her stupidity. He had sent her to hell.

  “What had you envisioned?” Alsandair had almost forgotten the pesky warlock still stood, waiting for him to continue.

  “That doesn’t really matter, now does it? Let’s get to the important issues at hand, shall we?” Alsandair stepped forward and hooked one finger along Cayden’s jaw, trailing it down to his chin.

  Jerking, Cayden felt bile rise in his throat. He had to keep it together to find out who and what this guy was. He couldn’t afford to make any stupid mistakes. As it was, he wanted to grab this character by his thin throat and snap it with a flick of his wrist. But, he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to help Summer. What had she gotten herself into?

  “What are the important issues?” Cayden asked as his breath constricted from the effort to hold back his rage.

  “What is most important is that you know not to get in my way. You may be a warlock, little fellow, but your power is nothing compared to mine. Whatever your connection is to this female, forget it. Walk away from her and never look back and I might just spare you.”

  Cayden wanted to rip this guy’s lungs out. He was jabbering on and on and Cayden still hadn’t a clue as to who he was and why he had such an interest in Summer. The only way to find out was to throw it out there. It might jeopardize his cool, detached approach, but he had to do something. This thing was after Summer and he had a feeling he was running out of time.

  “Why don’t you stop chatting like a little girl and tell me why you need me to walk away.” Alsandair cocked one brow in his direction, amused by Cayden’s arrogance. “What’s so special about her? If you tell me why you need her, maybe I’ll consider your deal.” He was bluffing, of course. He could only hope it didn’t show, because if it did, he was in big trouble. He might be able to fight this nasty thing in his world, on his terms, but in this place, he wasn’t so sure his powers would have much effect.

  Alsandair slid lazily across the floor in fluid movements, bringing himself to sit upon the throne that had come alive and tried to devour Cayden’s arm. Placing his hands on the knobs of the bones, he relaxed into the back of it. “She is my other half.”

  Rage boiled up inside Cayden. A possessive, jealous surge pumped through his veins, making his face hot and clammy. Alsandair continued to speak as he watched Cayden’s reaction from the bone-riddled chair, looking like the king of death. “You see, I am a necromancer.” Recognition flared and Cayden inwardly winced. He had heard of the ancient power, but had thought the death-speakers were long gone. That’s what the people in the bayou had called them; death-speakers.

  Apparently, they had been the advocates for the dead. Helping them transition from their human form to their spirit one. But, as evil and greed began to seep into the world, so had some of them turned, using lost souls to help in their never-ending search of ultimate power. He had heard talk that their numbers had dwindled during the witch hunts that swept like a plague from the old world to the Americas long ago. Even they couldn’t protect themselves from discriminate people hell-bent to watch them burn.

  The Halflings, spawn of humans and the necromancers, had been left behind, doomed to live with visions and premonitions, forever casting them in an unnatural light in a world that demanded normal. Suddenly, everything came together. Summer was a Halfling! The fear he had seen in her eyes was fear that her secret would be found out. Fear that she would be seen as something less than human. What she didn’t know was that Cayden understood that more than anyone. He had to get back to her, tell her the truth, and warn her of what was sure to come. Alsandair.

  “What makes you think she’s your other half?” Even though he had a good guess as to why, Cayden asked anyway, wanting Alsandair to divulge as much information as possible so that he could use it to send this bastard back to hell or whatever dark hole he had crawled out of.

  “She’s the only other necromancer left,” Alsandair used a bony finger to pick up a lock of his white hair, twirling it around the appendage. “When I first felt her, I was sure it was a trick of the mind. It wasn’t possible. But, sure enough, every time she entered the spirit realm, my palms tingled. There was a throbbing in my scalp. I knew having control over her would give me everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

  “What is that you want?” Cayden asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

  “I will take the underworld. With her power and mine combined, nobody shall stop us. I will rule and spill death over your world’s threshold, conquering it as my own!” Alsandair snarled as he spat out the words and leaned forward, his hands turning even paler as he clutched the knobs of the arm rests.

  “I sent one of my slaves to trick her, to bring her to me, but, alas, I had to dispose of her. She was always so disobedient.” He brought his hand up in the air and flicked his wrist to the side in a languid gesture.

  Cayden remembered the scene he had been in before this one. The woman, strong and defiant, who then bursting apart before his eyes, as well as the look on Summer’s face when the pieces of her had finally blown away. She had said something about bringing someone to her. All bets on Cayden’s part were pointing to Alsandair being the “him” that the young woman had referred to. Maybe he wasn’t in such a losing battle after all.

  “I think I’ve seen this slave you speak of,” he watched the other man’s eyes narrow in disbelief.

  “And how is that?”

  “Let’s just say I had a vision.” Cayden smirked, waiting for Alsandair to either crush the skulls on the throne or the one that sat on his neck. Right now, he couldn’t be sure what this creature was up to, couldn’t trust anything. Not in this world. Deciding he had enough information to go on, Cayden pointedly stared at the white haired man.

  “Bring me back to where I should be, release my spirit and from this place, set it free.”

  Cayden spoke in dark, deep tones, letting the magic create a whirlpool between him and Alsandair. Before his vision went black, he saw the devil throw his head back and when their gazes met again, Alsandair’s eyes had swollen to two times their original size, making the red color’s dance gleam bigger in his pale face.

  Opening his eyes, Cayden looked around his attic. He was still in front of his altar, still clothed in his robe. But everything had changed. He had just challenged one of the most powerful beings in the world and found out that the woman he ached for was doomed if he couldn’t find a way to stop it. He had to tell her. There was no more time; they weren’t just fighting for themselves now or even for the world. They would be fighting for two worlds, the one filled with the living and the one filled with the dead.

  Chapter 9

  Summer sat on her bed, tryi
ng to relinquish the queasiness in her belly that refused to go away. Who was that woman talking about? And why did someone want to come after her? All her life, she had kept it hidden that she spent her nights being visited by souls who needed help passing over. She had already been a freak without throwing that into the mix. She had worn glasses that were three inches thick in high school and had never had a boyfriend. She had always had her nose in a book and not just because she enjoyed reading. The books took her away from whatever awful version of a horror movie had stepped into her mind the night before.

  It had been her only way to cope, to survive. Ignoring it had worked to a certain point until she thought she’d go insane wondering why it was happening to her. Summer lived her life on the outside like any other research writer, hopping from one place to the next. Only, this wasn’t just her job. Her writing, her research, was personal. It was a mission. Every town she went to, every person she spoke to, held the possibility that she would finally understand. A key to what it was that happened to her when she turned off the light and let her subconscious take over.

  All the secrets she had kept, all the things she had seen while inside her mind had never prepared her for today. An attack like that was dangerous. The omens the woman had brought with her proved to be more frightening than the vision capturing her in the warm afternoon sun. She felt helpless, agitated. Even if she wanted to heed the woman’s warnings, there was nothing to go on. What in the hell was she going to do?

  Remembering the sight of Cayden’s retreating back had ice slithering up her spine. The cold hard fact she would never be normal lodging in her heart. Summer had always suspected it, but today it had hit home. The bewildered look on Cayden’s face had sent all the impossible dreams she hadn’t realized she had flying right out the window.

  A knock on the door had her head snapping up, making her uneasy stomach protest at the reaction. Groaning, she eased off the bed and shuffled to the door. It was Lurleene, looking just as lovely as always. She was really beginning to hate this lady.

  “Are you alright, Cherie?” Lurleene stretched out the last word, emphasizing it so that Summer wanted to grab her temples to keep from pain splitting her skull apart.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for checking.” Still holding the side of her head, Summer mustered the best smile she could manage as the hallway beyond Lurleene swayed and tipped. She was going to throw up all over Lurleene’s pretty pale blue dress if she didn’t sit down. She imagined her hostess wouldn’t take too kindly to that.

  “I’ve just got a bit of a headache. I’m thinking the heat just got to me.”

  Looking worried, Lurleene placed her warm hand on Summer’s elbow. The sensation crept up Summer’s arm, through her chest. The room hallway began to right itself. The bile was gone from where it had sat in her throat.

  “If you need anything, you just call me at the front desk, you hear?” Summer heard alright, but she didn’t want to respond, that meant there was a chance Lurleene would retreat, taking her special touch with her. Right now, she just wanted to curl up and purr like a kitten.

  “I will,” Summer responded.

  Lurleene took her elegant hand with her as she sashayed back down the hallway, her blue dress dancing around her calves as she rounded the corner. The sickness came rushing back in, her head pounding with the effort to close the door. Once it clicked, she sank back into it, grateful to be alone, but at the same time wanting Lurleene’s hands back on her. She would figure out what was going on later. Summer had a feeling there was something to Lurleene’s soft hands and she made a mental note to interview her next, if she didn’t slip into insanity first.

  She had lived with that fear all her life. What if she didn’t come out of one of her visions? She would forever be stuck, roaming in the void as her human form sat lifeless and decaying in another world, not quite dead, but not inhabited, either.

  She flipped the switch for the overhead fan, wanting some sort of breeze to dry the sweat that had begun to form on her forehead. She felt clammy, uncomfortable. She had chucked her pants for a pair of cotton boy shorts she had never worn earlier, not caring about how her calves must look. Slipping out of her bra, she had put on the tank she had worn the night Cayden had rocked her world. That man was something. Too bad she’d probably never get the chance to get him in her bed again. She must’ve still been reeling from her vision that night too. She had seen things, felt things that were impossible. She was losing it. If the visions weren’t enough, the after effects would certainly drive her to the brink.

  Sinking into the bed, the damp air circulated, tickling her bare toes as she tried to gain one second’s peace. A brisk knock on the door had her cursing. There was no way she was getting up. It was probably Lurleene again. The woman was nice, but this was getting ridiculous. Her own mother hadn’t been this helpful. Putting her arm over her eyes, Summer took a deep breath. She couldn’t get up even if she wanted to.

  “Come in, Lurleene.” As soon as she yelled it, a hammer began to knock against the backs of her eyelids. Hearing the door open, Summer mumbled as she fought the urge to weep. “I’m sorry, Lurleene, but I really am feeling horrible.”

  “It’s not Lurleene.”

  Her heart sank as the familiar Creole accent drifted into her senses, crawling over her to rest at the juncture between her thighs. She really couldn’t take this right now. She was so glad he was here, but terrified as to the reason why. He’d probably come to make a clean break. Who wanted to screw a woman who went into spasms in public for no apparent reason?

  “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t move. I’m not feeling well,” she whispered.

  “I can see that,” he whispered as well, a gesture that warmed her heart.

  The bed dipped as she felt him sit next to her, the movement making her want to vomit. She moaned before she could stop herself.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, just don’t move anymore and keep whispering.”

  “I need to talk to you, but I know now’s probably not the best time.” His hushed voice was laced with defeat and regret.

  “Go for it. Now’s as good a time as any, I can’t protest.” She managed a petite snort, pretending to be unaffected by what he was about to say.

  “It’s kind of hard to say…..you might not believe me.”

  “Try me.” Here we go, he was going to say goodbye. It was fun, had a blast, but no thank you. Her heart lurched, not accepting that she would never touch him again.

  “Do you remember the other night?” he asked.

  “You mean when we had sex?”

  “Well, yes…I mean, no before that.” Her arm still obscured her view of him, but she imagined he had just raked a hand through his hair.

  Testing the strength of her eyes, she removed her arm just a tiny bit, letting a small amount of light hit her face before she dropped her arm. Squinting at him, she propped herself up on her elbows. So far so good, there was just a slight ache and the bile had subsided again, at least for now.

  “What do you mean?” Summer remembered that her mind had played tricks on her. What was he talking about?

  “When I touched you, do you remember that I did it from the chair?” His eyes held fast, searching for some sort of reaction from her.

  “I don’t remember that exactly, no.” Only she did. But that had been her post-vision trauma, how in the hell would he know about that? Just as she figured, the bile was back, rising in her throat and sitting like a hot stone. She had a bad feeling about this.

  “I know you remember it, Summer. I need for you to trust me right now.” He turned on the bed, facing her. Whatever he was about to say was serious. Cayden’s eyes held steady, the muscles in his jaws twitching. Trust him? Who was he kidding? She had known him for what, a day, maybe two put together? It was one thing to have a little harmless sex, but quite another to trust a man on just his word. She had to admit, though, it had felt like more than just sex. It had shattered everything she
thought she knew about sex. It was a connection, a joining. She had felt it.

  Giving up the act, she attempted to roll her eyes, but the simple gesture came with yet another sharp pounding in her head. She lay back down, crossing her arms over her chest and closing her eyes again.

  How could he be so drawn to her, knowing she was ill? There was no way she could know that crossing her arms over her breasts had already made his nether-region scream to be inside her again. Unaware, she lay there, in skimpy shorts and another one of those sexy tank tops. Her legs were all muscle, not dainty and slender. Cayden wanted them wrapped around his hips again. He wanted to lean in and brush his tongue over the spot where her bicep met her elbow. When her breasts had nudged forward, it was all he could do not to growl with lust.

  He had to stay focused, she was sick and he was about to tell her something he’d never told anyone. But, if he was going to save her, he had to trust her. Cayden had done some rotten things in his life, but there was no way he could turn his back on this woman. Especially knowing what waited for her. A demon with white hair and flame for eyes, who took pleasure in torture and could call the dead. One that Summer would have to fight, if she wanted to survive. He wouldn’t be able to take Alsandair down on his own. It would take the power she possessed, a power she had no idea that lay hidden, brewing deep inside her.

  “I do remember it, but I thought it was just me.” Summer sighed as if the weight of the world rested squarely on her shoulders. “I thought I was just tired.”

  “It wasn’t just you, Summer. I did something…..” Cayden stood up, pacing the floor, wondering how she would be able to trust him when he was about to tell her he had charmed her, put a spell on her. He couldn’t remember a time where he felt more awful than he did now. He was just going to put it all out there, as fast and as painlessly as possible. “I charmed you, Summer.” He took two steps towards the bed, leaned down and looked into her eyes to finish.