Jean repeated his incantation over and over again until it sounded like a song. Faster and faster. He swayed as he chanted the words, putting himself into a deep trancelike state. The snake moved back and forth with Jean, balancing in its creepy reptilian way, eyes never leaving me. Sebastian and I found ourselves swaying too.
Jean stopped suddenly, deathly still.
I almost jumped out of my skin.
Six seconds passed. I counted them, trying to calm my racing pulse, but it wasn’t working. Slowly his eyes opened, and they were different from before. Milkier. He smiled and said a few unintelligible words, looking at us or beyond us, I wasn’t sure.
“What do you seek?”
I swallowed hard, casting a quick glance at Sebastian. He looked as anxious as I did, and a little paler. I drew in a steadying breath, noticing that Jean’s eyes and head had tipped back and were fixed on the ceiling fan. “Um.” I cleared my throat. “I seek a way to remove my curse.”
It was so fast I didn’t even see his face tilt back down or his eyes move. They were on the ceiling and then suddenly they were on me. Too fast to be human. I froze. The snake held its head out and away from Jean’s shoulder, intent on me.
And then all hell broke loose.
Jean or Papa Legba — whoever the hell he was now — yelled, jumping up and down as though he’d caught fire. The snake dropped to the floor and slithered underneath the altar, turning its head around to hiss at me. A furious argument erupted between Papa Legba and Jean Solomon. The same person. Two different voices.
I backed away slowly, catching bits and phrases in the broken English and French and whatever else they were speaking.
Sebastian reached out and grabbed my hand as Jean said to himself, “She cannot hurt—”
“Bah! Legba is not scared!” His head swung around and he ran right up to me, stretched out his neck, and stuck his face in mine. I couldn’t move or breathe. “YOU DON’T FRIGHTEN ME!”
Blood vessels swelled on Jean Solomon’s head. His face shook with rage. Then he straightened and marched back to the altar, gesturing wildly. “Dishonor, dishonor, dishonor!”
And then Jean’s calm voice, “Shh. Shh. Shh. .” Followed by unintelligible, soothing mumblings as Jean tried to placate the angry spirit.
More angry words.
And then Jean Solomon doubled over, and all was quiet except the blood hammering through my eardrums and the birds outside that began their songs once more. Goose bumps covered my skin. My grip on Sebastian’s hand was brutal, but he didn’t let go. Actually, he was holding on to mine just as hard as I held on to his.
Jean straightened; he looked confused, embarrassed, and a little frightened as he approached us. “You must go,” he said, and the voice that came out was more feminine and tired.
“But—”
“I am sorry, Miss Ari, but the loa will not help you.”
Desperation swept cold through my stomach. “Look, I can pay. I can get more money. Please, I need to know something, anything. What did he say?”
Jean ushered us to the French doors, pressing the handle so the doors would swing open. He held out a hand. “Please, go.”
I hesitated, but Sebastian tugged on my hand. Jean kept his eyes on the floor as we went through the door, but once we were out into the courtyard, he surprised me by stepping out and shutting the door quietly behind him.
Jean’s tone was low; obviously he didn’t want to be heard. “I have dishonored my loa with your presence here. It was my fault, for I did not see you as you truly were until I joined with Legba. You must never come back here.”
“Why? What do you mean?” My fists clenched at my sides. I wanted to scream in frustration. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
Sadness passed through his eyes. “I hope you never find out.” And then he turned away, shaking his head.
“Please, Jean,” I said, begging now. He saw my curse. He knew what it was; he was the only one who knew. “I need help.” Jesus Christ, I hated to beg. Hated it so much that it made my chest tight and sour.
Jean sighed, then shook his head again like he was about to do something he shouldn’t. He leaned away from the door. “You want to know the past, what has been put on you? Grind a bone of Alice Cromley into powder, powder as fine as dust, and then you’ll see. Those bones will tell you your story. Bastian knows, don’t you?” Sebastian nodded, and Jean seemed satisfied. “Good luck, chère.”
He went back inside and closed the door.
I turned to Sebastian. “Please tell me he’s not serious.”
Sebastian took my arm, leading me away from the house and back to the passageway. “Unfortunately, he’s dead serious.”
Figures.
I yanked my arm away and marched down the courtyard tunnel and back to Dumaine Street. I didn’t bother waiting for Sebastian as I stormed out of the gate, letting it slam back on the lock, and headed south.
All I wanted was some normalcy in my life. That was all! Why was that so freaking hard to come by? Why?
Tears stung my eyes, stupid, burning tears that I swiped away with the back of my hand. A scream welled inside my chest, pushing against my heart and ribs, hurting like hell. I sniffed hard and—
A bright flash blinded me.
An intense bolt of pain sliced through my brain, making me scream, hands going to my head as I stumbled to my knees in the street. I doubled over, my elbows on the pavers, my fingers pulling at the roots of my hair as the pain mushroomed out to the very ends of my skull and then rebounded back in to do more damage. I screamed again as waves of agony flowed through my head.
It was too much. . too much.
Hands curled around my shoulders, pulling me back, lifting me up off the ground.
My eyes opened but didn’t see, too blinded by pain. The side of my wet face bumped against cloth. Sebastian’s shirt. His smell. His voice, though I couldn’t understand his words. His lips and warm breath were on my temple, talking softly. I turned into him, seeking solace, comfort, some kind of escape, but it still hurt. Every step he took vibrated fresh pain through my head.
And then, thank God, he stopped. He held me tight, wrapping his arms around me, leaning back. I held on, squeezing my eyes closed and locking myself away. But not alone. Thankfully, this time, not alone.
Seven
A MELLOW JAZZ TUNE PLAYED COMPANION TO THE STEADY thud of Sebastian’s heart, the piano notes meandering through my waking mind like a tranquil breeze. Dull remnants of pain clung to the curve of my skull, a reminder of my breakdown in the middle of Dumaine Street and the arms that held me — that still held me.
The right side of my face pressed against the soft cotton of Sebastian’s T-shirt, my ear over his heart. One of his hands cupped the back of my neck, his fingers tangled in my loose hair. His other hand was splayed on my lower back, palm against the bare skin where my shirt had ridden up. Warmth surrounded me. His warmth. His smell. His arms. His legs were braced on either side of me, my hip snuggled squarely against his crotch.
The more I woke, the more my rising pulse drowned out the beat of Sebastian’s heart. A cool sensation swept into my stomach. Every nerve ending came alive from being that close. . and being embarrassed as hell that I’d clung to him for this long.
Might as well get it over with.