Bayou Summons Page 6

  The castle had turned dark, casting shadows in corners and throughout the great room where they stood. The fire that licked through Alsandair began to highlight the darkness that had suddenly fallen. Like a scene unfolding before her eyes, she saw simultaneous movement shuddering in the twilight pieces of the room. Things were bucking and heaving in the shelter of the onyx cover. Suddenly, she knew exactly what lurked there, lost souls who had come to do the bidding of their evil master.

  Just as the thought left her feeble, they began to move forward, to reveal themselves in the limelight of the reckless fire that still arose from Alsandair. He let his lower jaw drop and began to chuckle. The bone bobbed up and down, vibrating the sound.

  “They will do as I command. If I order them to rip you apart, they will.” He lowered his arms and menacingly took a step toward her. The wildfire that flung from him trailed behind, licking the air as he moved.

  Summer knew she was vulnerable, but, she also knew what he had apparently forgotten. She could speak to the dead. She was tempted to yell a great big “duh”. She wasn’t sure how much his hold over them would affect her sway with the lost souls, but she was going to find out. She had no other options and it was her only chance.

  Forcing herself to take a close look at the dead army slowly closing in on her, she glanced at each one. There were at least eight of them, all in a half circle which began at the corners of the room on either side of her, completing their alliance behind Alsandair. Most looked like normal people, no distinguishing marks that signified a traumatic death, the only clue was the look in their eyes and the last sidesteps they were taking towards her.

  Scanning, Summer found her target, the only one of the army that wore the remnants of their death as if it were sign. It was a young man, brown hair on one side of his head, the other side marred by the after effects of a bullet. His skin peeled back, flapping as he scuffed the floor with his boots. He wore some sort of camouflage; Summer guessed that he had been a hunter in his life.

  The fact that he still showed signs of trauma from his death told Summer that he had died fairly recently, which would make it easier to help him. From her experience, if the spirit showed signs of recent death, it was a much easier process for them. She hoped to hell it would be so for this one, because if not, she would be ripped to pieces in this place. She doubted she’d die, either. She’d live to be ripped apart over and over again. Alsandair didn’t seem to be a demon to end someone’s suffering. He was the type to prolong it, string it along, getting off on pain and misery. There was no way he would order these poor creatures to attack her if there wasn’t a chance for more agony later.

  She looked at the young man and closed her eyes, concentrating only on him. She had never attempted this. Certain facts about spirits had just been there, in her mind before. She never had to search for them but this time, she did. Drawing her hands together, she felt beads of sweat break out on her forehead. She wished silently that she wouldn’t pass out; that somehow, the Underworld would fuel her task, help her human form to cope with the jarring visions.

  A vision was before her. In a forest somewhere, the young man was alive, sitting on a fallen log and crying. A bloody deer lay before him, squirming with the effects of its impending death. The young man’s name had been Adam. He sat there, his tears wetting the animal’s hide as he rocked himself back and forth on the log, his rifle on his lap. Then, Alsandair appeared, standing behind the sobbing young man. Summer couldn’t hear what he had said, but knew that he whispered orders to Adam.

  Without thought, Adam methodically grasped his rifle, snapped the safety off, sat it at his temple and blew one side of his head away. Summer winced and looked away, her heart going to pieces for a young man who could’ve had the chance at a life.

  Chapter 11

  As the vision faded, the last thing she could see was Adam’s body slumped over the deer where it had fell after the blow from the bullet had propelled him off the log. Together, deer and man took their last breathes, their bodies going still collectively.

  Summer opened her eyes and realized the army had gotten closer. Panting from the vision and anger she felt, she locked on to her target… Adam. He leaned to one side, his eyes blank and staring. Gambling, she spoke with her mind. “Adam, please listen to me.” Adam blinked, but never wavered from his mission. Trying again, she hoped she was accomplishing the push into his spirit. This would never work if she couldn’t communicate with him. How else would she break the spell? She needed for this to work. Praying to every god, she offered up a plea. Please, let me get out of this.

  Her voice whispered through her mind, echoing the terror she felt. “Adam, you must listen to me. You have to fight it. Come through the darkness and follow my voice.”

  She watched him, waiting for any sign of life in his dead soul.

  Then she saw it. A faint flicker in his eyes, he blinked again and let brought his gaze to hers. His face contorted into confusion and he almost stopped walking.

  “No, Adam. You must keep walking. Do not speak aloud.” Summer felt her hope slowly restore as Adam’s eyes portrayed understanding.

  She felt a response creep up her spine and heard a voice in her mind. “Who are you? What is going on?”

  “Adam, I’m your salvation and where you are doesn’t matter. It’s where you need to go that does.” She heard Alsandair snivel and made an attempt to pull a curtain over what was really going on. She let her gaze dart from one dead face to another, feigning horror.

  She continued her mental conversation with Adam as she shrunk back against the stone.

  “Do you see anything, Adam?”

  “I see you and darkness. There’s nothing else.”

  Summer realized he had been released into his transformation automatically. He was where he should be now all she had to do was help him.

  “Adam, I want you to close your eyes. I want you to tell me what you feel.”

  She dared a glance towards him and saw that on the outside, he still melted into the crowd, a ghoul following orders.

  She heard Adam exhale. “I’m so warm. I’ve never been so warm before. What is this?”

  “It is your home. You have a purpose and must go. Give over to that warmth, let it take you away.”

  The army was closing in with the nearest zombie spirit was just five feet away. She felt the dread take over her restored hope and she slumped back, sliding down the wall. Bringing her knees to her chest, Summer laid her head back against the cold stone and surrendered. If there was any hope left at all, it was Adam’s turn to take the wheel. It was all up to him now.

  In her mind she heard the whooshing of air and the echo of Adam’s gratitude. “Thank you.”

  Looking up, she witnessed Adam disappear, darkness creeping over his slumped form in the great hall. Until, finally, she saw only his smile as he was whisked away.

  Her happiness was splintered as a roar of outrage broke through the haze. The army stopped, turning back to their master, as if awaiting new orders. She should be afraid or scheming up a plan of action, but she was so tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. She slid from the wall as her eyelids closed over her pupils, once again shutting her in the darkness. The last thing she heard was a shrill cry that reverberated through her mind and rattled her bones.

  Summer was floating above the darkness this time, hovering above. From her vantage point she could see hundreds of people who stared up at her with their arms outstretched, begging for help. She felt powerless, overwhelmed by so many reaching out for her, towards her and she couldn’t help all these people. Cried as so many continued their pleas.

  A sound enveloped the crowd and she knew she had to open her eyes, to leave all these people who needed her. She sat straight up and felt tears change direction from the side of her face to the front of her cheekbones. Her head was imploding. Touching the side of her face, she felt the moisture covering her earlobes. The memory came back full force, a white haired, skeleton hell-bent on impr
isoning and torturing her! Wrapping herself in a ball, Summer squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to know where she was. Images of taunted souls and flames flew in and she moaned with dread.

  “Calm down, Cherie. You’re safe.” The voice was silky and very familiar and coming from her left. She looked through squinted eyes. It was Lurleene. The bastard had gotten her too. She was going to decimate him for this. She swore under her breath as she looked around. The stone walls of her nightmare were gone and replaced with dark wood paneling with a tall window to the right of Lurleene that boasted sheer curtains. Surveying the room, Summer saw the bed she sat on was a huge four poster bed with thick, wide posts that climbed almost to the ceiling.

  Her legs were covered with a simple white bedspread, embroidered with different designs in bold colors of green. Her mouth repeated her thoughts. “Where the hell am I?”

  Lurleene moved to sit down beside her. “You’re in Cayden’s house. You were unconscious for a while and he thought maybe you’d be more comfortable here.”

  Summer ignored her queasiness and looked at Lurleene. Flinching as she remembered what had been happening when the vision had impaled her. “Where is he?” She asked Lurleene, feeling guilty.

  “He’s upstairs in the attic,” Lurleene brought her arm around Summer’s shoulders. The immediate comfort spread through her limbs, calming her stomach and easing the panic in her brain. Summer laid her head on Lurleene’s shoulder, not being able to do anything else. She was so soft, so soothing. Her touch had quieted her entire body. She never wanted Lurleene to leave.

  Lurleene absently rubbed her shoulder. “He had a few things to do up there, but he did tell me to come and fetch him when you woke.” Lurleene once again broke contact and Summer wanted to grieve the loss of her touch. She stood up and smiled down at Summer.

  With a croak, Summer asked, “Tell me how you do that, Lurleene?”

  Lurleene gave a sigh and gracefully sat across from Summer, her elegant fingers tracing the pattern of the designs on the bedspread. “Summer, there are things that Cayden might be able to explain better than I can.”

  “Please, Lurleene, I have to know what the hell is going on around here,” Summer begged.

  “I will tell you what I know, briefly. Then you must get some sleep.”

  Alarm had her scrunching her face up and fighting tears again. “I can’t go to sleep.” Summer considered telling Lurleene her secret and re-telling her latest vision, but then she’d probably just think Summer was certifiable.

  Lurleene placed a hand on her knee and all her fear was gone in an instant. Lurleene spoke with purpose, looking into Summer’s eyes as she told her what she could.

  “Summer, I am a death-healer. I ease pain in people when they’re hurt, suffering. With my touch, I can heal the sick or help erase the pain if it’s too late.” Lurleene turned her head, giving Summer a view of her slender neck, where her beaded earrings hung.

  “You are a death-speaker, so in some ways we are family. I felt a bond to you as soon as you arrived. I was born into a family that possessed gifts that challenged this world and the beliefs which dwell in it. The same goes with Cayden, although, instead of being born into a death clan, he was born into the most revered coven of witches and warlocks ever known in the bayou,” she continued. “The Beauvais family has been around for centuries, always keeping myth and magic safe within the city limits. They were saviors for my kind, my family. My great-great grandfather was best friends with Cayden’s great-great grandfather.”

  The blood in Summer’s veins rushed so that she could hear the pumping in her eardrums. It flowed past, but kept growing louder with every new word that Lurleene spoke. Well, this was some research. She had been on a quest to find a cure, a niche in the frazzled system that was her mind and she had no idea she would actually find it. Not to mention that it sounded like an affliction she would never get over. She would be like this forever. Live the rest of her days going insane.

  She wanted to scream at the marvelous woman that sat in front of her, to muss her perfect hair and smear her cherry red lipstick across her face. How unfair was life going to get? She could’ve lived with being a dork. That would’ve meant there was still a possibility of a family, a loving husband and normal children. Now, she somehow had to grasp the fact that magical beings did indeed exist and she was one of them. A thought shot jagged through her head, landing in the middle of the migraine that was building.

  Cayden wasn’t interested in her. She was just a woman who had been gullible enough to fall for his bullshit. Just a quick fix, like an appetizer to whet his sexual craving. He had never cared about her; otherwise he wouldn’t have charmed her. In hindsight, Summer saw all the things she had chalked up to her imagination. His invisible touch, the effect he had on her, all magic. None of it was real. None of it was the love she had been sure was there. Summer heaved, throwing herself face down on the bed, landing not two inches from Lurleene’s knee.

  Lurleene placed a jeweled hand on Summer’s blond curls and felt the tension flow into her and exit as she took a breath and exhaled. “Get some sleep, Cherie. I don’t know what’s going on, but with the way Cayden is acting, I’m assuming you’ll need it.”

  With Lurleene’s soft hand on her flesh, Summer slipped yet again into the darkness. As it closed in around her, she felt solace for the first time in years. No one waited for her, no work to be done, or flames and undead armies, just plain, blissful emptiness. Summer slipped in as if wetting her feet before a bath, testing the warmth of the darkness, wanting to make sure it was safe. Weakened as she was, Summer gave in and drifted.

  Chapter 12

  The fog from outside had crept in the open window, curling itself around the bedposts, making curlicues of misty gray around the room. Summer felt much better, though finding herself still in Cayden’s house made her feel prickly all over. He better hope she got out of here before she laid eyes on him. With the fury building inside her, she wasn’t sure what she would do or say. The bastard!

  Summer slowly swung her legs off the bed, letting them dangle above the marked floor. Like the inn, the bedroom had old, heavy wood floors. She loved that about this place. Every person seemed to cherish the history and the personalities that the buildings around them housed. In all her travels, she’d never been anywhere that showed such devotion. Her sense of belonging had always been skewed, but she really thought that this was going to be the place she could sink some roots into.

  She had thought this would be home but he had ruined all of that for her. No more fantasies of plantation houses with double-decker porches or humid afternoons spent drinking tea on the lawn. In one swift move Cayden had robbed her of the life she had always wanted. Damn him for it! Who was he to think he could get away with putting spells on innocent women and then taking advantage? A warlock that’s who, one that probably had more powers and spells up his sleeve than even a researcher on the subject of the supernatural could fathom.

  If she was very truthful, if she reached down, deep into that fisted knot in her stomach, she’d come back with the realization that she hadn’t done anything she didn’t want to. She had wanted to be taken, to be consumed by such an awesome man. And she had. Maybe it was best to believe it for what it was… a miracle. She had sex, mind-numbing, off-the-wall sex with an amazing man. A warlock! She should feel lucky. Funny thing was all she felt was the cruel beat of her heart, reminding her that she would forever be alone.

  Hopping off the antique bed, Summer found her shoes in the corner of the room and sat on a high back chair to slip them on. A creaking in the floor above her had her wondering what he was doing in the attic. She must’ve been out for hours and he was still up there. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. A plan of action would be good right about now. Should she go and pack? Leave this town and lose her mind in another? No, she would go to her room at the inn and figure it out. First order of business was to remove herself from Cayden’s domain.

  She lightly g
rasped the brass doorknob and turned it, so far so good. But, when she tried to pull it free from the jamb, it let out a shrill creak. Great! Giving up on a hasty and quiet escape, she stepped out into the hall. She was on the second floor, down the hallway; she could see the stairs winding down to the first floor where the door to freedom sat. The dark paneled walls were covered in ancient framed photographs. Pictures of women in white lace sat, still and placid. Their dainty hands crossed on their lap, resting on knees or the backs of chairs. Men with handle-bar mustaches, one was holding a cigar, looking confident and sure of his place in the world.

  Summer realized that this was homage to a legacy, a tribute set in photographs in which the subjects once graced this same hallway in the flesh. They all seemed to be looking at her and she briefly thought of those pictures made to fool people, the ones where the eyes followed wherever they went in the room.

  One photo in particular stood out for her. Walking to it, she touched the frame. It was gold or brass, she couldn’t be sure, but it definitely needed to be polished. Inside the frame sat the most gorgeous woman Summer had ever seen. Hair the color of vanilla ice cream flowed from an angular face, and traveled around the woman’s shoulders, stopping at almost her knees. She wore a black dress and thick bracelets on each wrist. The dress was gathered at the elbow and bunched below the woman’s breasts. This was the only picture in which the subject wore any other color besides white.

  The woman’s eyes seemed to be rising off the paper. They were directed at Summer. She stepped closer and studied the ethereal photo closer. The woman was standing to the side of a chair one hand folded over the fabric the other was to rest at the seam below her chest. Upon closer examination, Summer realized it was the same chair she had sat in to put her shoes on. A chill ran up Summer’s arms. How incredible was that? She had touched the same chair as this extraordinary, long-dead woman. The woman was so beautiful it made her want to sigh.