A Deal with Death Read online

  Lost in her attempt to form a coherent thought, she didn’t notice that Emile had risen until he spoke. “Help me bury him.”

  Her cousin didn’t say another word. He lifted his father’s torso, Odette took his feet, and they carried the body to the swamp, laying it next to the water’s edge. His expression blank, Emile trudged to the house and returned with a cinder block.

  Odette wiped the tears from her cheeks and followed him back up the slope, gripping another cinder block and hauling it to the water. The concrete dug into her palms as she dragged the heavy block through the dirt, and she focused on the physical pain, using the sharp, agonizing sensation to ground her, to keep her from getting lost in the tornado of thoughts in her mind.

  With a long piece of rope, Emile tied the cinder to his father’s body and shoved it into the swamp. As the corpse descended, a bubble rose from the depths, releasing a cloud of steam as it popped on the surface, and Odette’s stomach lurched.

  Silently, his face unreadable, Emile returned to the house. She followed him into the living room, where he stood by the wall, staring at the chicken bones hanging over the entrance.

  “Emile…” She tried to speak to him a few times, but he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, refusing to look at her. She sat on the couch, chewing her bottom lip and clutching her hands in her lap until the rumble of an engine signaled her dad’s arrival.

  Emile slammed his bedroom door, and her lip trembled as she darted onto the porch and scurried around the house to the driveway.

  “Everything okay, sweet pea?” Her dad smiled as she climbed into the car and slammed the door.

  “Fine.” She stared out the window as the rickety old shack and all the horrors it contained faded from view.

  Odette waited until her dad drove her home and they were safely inside the house before she opened the floodgates. She told him everything, vowing never to use her magic again.

  “Please, Daddy, can we move away? I never want to see this place again.” She was done with Voodoo, done with Baron Samedi, and done with New Orleans.

  Chapter Two

  Present Day

  The sense of foreboding tightening Odette Allemand’s throat didn’t mean anything. The sinking feeling in her stomach was merely anticipation, and the fact that her heart hadn’t beat this fast since the time she’d come face-to-face with an opossum she’d thought was a poltergeist proved this house was worth every penny she’d be paying for the next thirty years. Who wouldn’t be excited to own a historic Creole home like this?

  Heat clung to her skin, baking her in the summer sun as she peered at her prized purchase. The salmon color of the exterior would be changing soon enough, but the pristine white front porch looked exactly as it would have in its glory days.

  Pausing on the second step, she inhaled the sweet scent of the bougainvillea blooming in her new front yard. The familiar perfume stirred nostalgia in her soul, and a feeling of finally being home mixed with the anticipatory emotions swirling through her chest. She had this situation completely under control.

  She climbed the next two steps and stood on the front porch. The moving box tucked under her right arm dug into her hip, so she shifted it to her left side and fished the key from her purse.

  An oval window of cut glass in the center of the front door provided a distorted view into the darkened foyer. Rays of sunlight spilled across the wooden floor, giving the entrance a warm and welcoming vibe, but she hesitated to step inside.

  The nineteenth-century mansion wouldn’t have had a door like this in its original condition, and though she intended to restore the home to the grandeur of the 1800s, it wouldn’t hurt to make a few modernizations. Maybe the light would help clear out the darkness that followed her around like a storm cloud waiting for the perfect lightning strike to unleash its fury.

  “You gonna stand outside all day or are you going inside?” Natasha, a Voodoo priestess and Odette’s closest friend, laughed as she ascended the steps, breaking whatever trance Odette had succumbed to.

  Pressing her hand to her heart, she spun around. “Sweet Spirits, Mambo, don’t do that. You scared me to death.”

  “You look plenty alive to me.” One corner of Natasha’s mouth tugged into a teasing grin, and she crossed her arms over her burnt-orange blouse. A matching orange scarf encircled her head, and her dark-brown hair sprouted out from the center of the fabric in tufts, like a potted plant. “You still haven’t figured out the meaning, have you?”

  Odette let out her breath and forced herself to open the door. “It’s a beautiful Creole mansion that I’ve admired since I was a little girl. There is no other meaning.”

  “Mm-hmm. You know you can’t lie to your Mambo. What’s wrong?” Natasha followed her into the foyer.

  If you only knew. Gripping the box in both hands, she carried it to the kitchen and set it on the counter. She’d hired a contractor to do the renovations, and she hadn’t felt a hint of this ominous dread when she’d opened the house for him last week. But now she was moving in, and that made her more nervous than she cared to admit.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Once I do a smudging to clear out the old energy and get my altar set up, I’m sure it will feel like home.”

  Natasha leaned a hip against the counter. “There’s something else.”

  Could the Voodoo priestess sense her emotions in her energy, or was her body language that obvious? Whichever it was, discussing it was pointless. She’d bought this place, and she intended to stay. Straightening her spine, Odette put her hands on her hips. “I’m not thrilled about having to move in before the renovations have even started. Karma should be biting my old landlord in the butt any day now.”

  “And sending that kind of energy out into the world will bring it right back to you.”

  Odette crossed her arms. “I’m not the one who promised my tenant an extension on her lease and then changed her mind at the last minute. That’s no way to do business, and I’m lucky I have a place to live.”

  “You can call it luck, or you can admit fate might have plans that required you to move in sooner. That maybe you don’t have as much control as you think you do. Everything happens for a reason, and everything has meaning. Even this old house. My guess is that it’s related to a past life.”

  She clenched her teeth and took a bundle of sage from her box. Staring at the herbs, Odette whispered, “I would rather not know,” before flicking her gaze to her Mambo, pleading with her eyes. Natasha had guided her through several past-life regressions, trying to help her overcome her fears in her present life, and she’d learned more than she needed to know.

  Her past couldn’t help her with the present, anyway. Her current issues stemmed from this life alone, and she wasn’t about to divulge the reasons why. To anyone.

  “It will help you understand—”

  “I understand enough to know I can’t go through that again. Maybe I did live here in a past life, but you know that life ended in tragedy. I don’t need to experience it again.” She couldn’t do it again. Reliving the horrific murders of her former selves had left her emotionally drained and physically ill for days afterward. She glanced at her watch. “Would you mind doing the blessing now, so I can smudge and have this place clean when my furniture arrives?”

  “Always on a schedule.” Natasha gave her a knowing look—one that said Odette would eventually give in and do what the Ancestral Spirits guided her to do, but Odette never gave in. Not anymore.

  Closing her eyes, Natasha took a few deep breaths, her body swaying slightly from side to side as she whispered a prayer in Haitian Creole. With a long exhale, she opened her eyes. “I thought you said there weren’t no ghosts here.”

  “I’ve been here several times since I bought the place. No one has made contact.” Not that she’d tried very hard to find any. All old homes held residual spirit energy. Odette could see it if she wanted to, but if she left herself open to the spirit realm twenty-four-seven, she’d never have a moment to
herself.

  Ghosts were everywhere, all the time—especially in New Orleans—and if they didn’t feel the need to contact her, she’d let them be. So long as they weren’t malevolent. The bad ones always made themselves known. No searching required.

  “Did you command the ghosts to reveal themselves? You know some of them can hide.”

  Her fingers curled into tight fists, her nails biting into her palms. “And you know I will never command the dead.”

  It was the same discussion over and over. Natasha would say she wouldn’t have been blessed with the powers if she shouldn’t use them. Odette’s retort would state the power in question was firmly planted on the black side of magic and she refused to dabble in the dark arts. Her friend would call Odette’s ability to command the dead gray and follow up with, “There’s nothing wrong with a little gris-gris,” like her mother used to say.

  Natasha opened her mouth as if to continue the argument, but she let out a long sigh and grasped Odette’s hand instead. “Open your senses and feel. Someone’s here.” The priestess closed her eyes again and shook her head. “He’s a strong one too; took me some searching to find him, but he’s here. Can you sense him now?”

  Odette closed her eyes and took a deep, centering breath. Allowing her walls to fall away, she opened her mind and reached out to the energy in the house. The same bumpy, vibrating charge, left behind by the countless families who’d called this place home, hummed around her. The sensation swirled through the house, creating a rough cacophony of energy grating against her senses like sandpaper.

  She pushed through the bramble, opening herself even more, but all she felt was the static leftovers of those who lived here before. Natasha squeezed her hand, reminding her to focus, and she gave one more push.

  There, in the corner of the kitchen, she felt him. A spirit unlike any she’d encountered before…and she’d encountered plenty. Even when she’d turned away from Voodoo and refused her connection with Baron Samedi, the loa of the dead, Odette could never get away from ghosts. This was the first time in as long as she could remember that a specter had been able to hide itself from her when she’d reached out.

  “Will you please show yourself to me?” She opened her eyes, ready to see at least a faint outline of the ghost, but nothing manifested in the spot where she felt him. “Who are you?”

  Her chest tightened, and she gasped as a feeling of overwhelming love expanded in her core. The sensation grew, her heart aching at the intensity of the emotion.

  “Are you okay?” Natasha released her hand and wrapped her arm around Odette’s shoulders.

  “He’s making me feel his emotions. How is he doing that?” No run-of-the-mill ghost could affect her this way. In her relations with the spirit realm, she always stayed in control.

  “What do you feel?”

  She sucked in a trembling breath as tears welled in her eyes. “Adoration. He loved someone deeply. And happiness. So much joy.”

  “I told you he’s a strong one. If he has no ill intent, the blessing of the home won’t get rid of him. We’ll have to cross him over ourselves.”

  The happiness and love swirling in her heart converged, slamming into her like a knife twisting in her back. Gripping the countertop, she pressed a hand to her chest. “Betrayal. Unrelenting sadness.” The tears of joy brimming in her eyes cascaded down her cheeks in trails of sorrow. “Will you please stop,” she whispered, and the ghost released his hold. The emotions dissipated as quickly as they had formed.

  She straightened and wiped the tears from her cheeks, grabbing her bundle of sage. “I’m okay. The ghost can stay.” Forcing a spirit to cross over…one who wasn’t ready to leave…required Odette’s magic. The mere thought of opening herself up to that much power made her stomach turn. She rummaged through her box, moving aside the items for her altar, and found a lighter. “Can we begin?”

  Natasha’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure you want him to stay? You’re not an empath, so if he can send you his emotions like that, he can cause you a world of trouble.” She nodded to the box. “You’ve got everything to set up your altar right there. Maybe we should call on Baron Samedi for help.”

  “No.” Her met tet, the main loa that guided her, hadn’t completely forgiven her for turning her back on him—and the entire religion—when she was young. “I don’t want to bother the Baron with this. I didn’t sense any hostility from the ghost. It’ll be fine.” She’d save calling on her guardian Voodoo Spirit for the big things.

  Anyway, there had to be a reason the ghost lingered. If she could figure it out, talk to him and get him to cross over on his own, maybe she’d get back into Baron Samedi’s good graces. Talking to a ghost, she could handle. That ability was built into her soul and didn’t require calling on any dark magic from the spirit realm.

  Odette toyed with the purple and black braided bracelet adorning her wrist. Wearing the colors was an act of honoring Baron Samedi, something she should have been doing her entire life. “I’ll open the windows if you’ll continue the blessing.”

  “Stubborn as ever, just like your momma was.” Natasha closed her eyes and resumed her Haitian prayer.

  A familiar pang of longing tightened Odette’s chest. Natasha couldn’t have been older than fifteen when Odette’s mom died, but from the way she talked about her, she’d idolized her.

  Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she scurried around the house, opening all the windows—upstairs and down. Cleansing a home required positive energy, and dwelling on the fact that her mom had died saving her life was anything but.

  Back in the kitchen, Odette struck the lighter, setting the end of the sage bundle ablaze and then blowing out the flames. She walked the perimeter of her house, fanning the smoke to the four corners and waving it around the windows and doors. “Negative energy be gone. Only peace and love may remain in my home.”

  The ghost followed her as she and Natasha cleansed each room. She could feel its presence as a solid form, almost as if a living person stood behind her, but when she turned to look, nothing was there. She’d coax him out eventually—no commands necessary. Her ability to communicate with the dead had intensified when she’d returned to her Voodoo roots.

  Unfortunately, as her magic strengthened, the blackness grew in her soul. She had powers no living person should have, and if she lost control of herself, even for a minute, like before… No, she would never let that happen again.

  They closed the windows, and Natasha shut the front door, ending the cleansing. “That should do it.” She hugged her. “You sure you can handle that ghost?”

  “I think I need to.” Whomever the dead man had been in life, Odette couldn’t ignore the emotions he’d sent to her. Maybe this house called to her because the ghost called to her.

  “Then you must.” The Mambo picked up her bag. “Some of us are meeting at Rusty’s tonight for dancing and drinks. You should come.”

  “Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be exhausted from unpacking. The movers will be here soon.” She followed Natasha onto the porch, avoiding eye contact.

  “How much you gonna unpack when the renovations start tomorrow? Come have a little fun.”

  “I’ll pass.” When vodouisants, magical beings who practiced Voodoo, got together for dancing and drinks, the epic party lasted into the early morning. Odette had things to do. Responsible things, like getting to work on time and making sure her company ran in tip-top shape.

  Natasha chuckled. “If Baron Samedi hadn’t told me he was your met tet himself, I wouldn’t believe it. What child of the Baron doesn’t like to let loose?”

  Most vodouisants reflected the personalities of their met tets, their deep connections with their guardian loa affecting every aspect of their lives. Known for his antics, his love of sex, rum, and cigars, and his gyrating dance moves, Baron Samedi’s personality was the exact opposite of Odette’s.

  “People go to bars to meet other people, which is exactly what I’m trying to avoid. Falling in love
will end with a horrific murder that I’d rather not experience in this life if I don’t have to. It’s happened enough in my past lives.” She shivered at the memories. After her fourth past-life regression revealed the same gruesome ending, she’d resolved to spend her life alone. It was her only chance at making it past forty.

  Natasha gave her a sympathetic smile. “Some people go out to spend time with their friends. If anyone hits on you, I’ll shoo him away.”

  She sighed. “There’s also the other reason.”

  “Letting loose and having a little fun ain’t gonna turn you evil—not that you have an ounce of evil in your soul, whether you believe it or not. Your powers are strong because you can handle them. Your met tet has faith you won’t use them for nothing but good. You should too.”

  She forced a smile. “Maybe next time.”

  “Between my hair salon and running the Voodoo shop, I don’t get out much, so I’ll hold you to it.” Natasha nodded. “Next time it is.”

  “I said maybe.” Odette waved as Natasha descended the steps and sashayed up the path toward the sidewalk.

  Stepping inside, she closed the door, and with a deep, cleansing breath, she opened her senses once more. The blessing the Mambo had placed on the home rid the air of the rough, grating energy, replacing it with soft warmth…a clean slate. Well, except for the ghost hovering in the corner.

  Odette put her hands on her hips and stared at the area where she sensed him. “I’m willing to listen whenever you’re ready to talk.”

  As she shuffled to the kitchen, that same overwhelming feeling of utter adoration expanded in her chest, making tears brim in her eyes. Whomever this guy loved in life was one lucky lady, but if Odette didn’t put up some barriers now, he might figure out a way to take advantage of her.

  She picked up the extinguished sage and waved it in his direction. “Will you please stop that. Right now.” The sensation dissipated, rolling away from her and into the invisible entity. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t want you to force your feelings on me, understand? I’m not an empath. I don’t deal with other people’s emotional baggage. If you want to communicate with me, you’re going to have to figure out another way. Like with words.”