“Um, excuse me, what?” I asked, reminding him that I couldn’t speak French.
He huffed out a breath of impatience and then frowned at me. “You need to be entirely more serious about your approach to this matter,” he said at last, his lips tight and his jaw even tighter.
“So I don’t even get a hello?” I asked with a smile that I wasn’t really feeling. Apparently in dreamland, I was still pretty depressed about the whole Ryan situation.
But Drake wasn’t having any of it. He simply frowned and cocked a brow as if to show me how irritated he was. “Bonjour,” he managed at last—merely grumbling the word beneath his breath.
“Well you definitely didn’t have me at hello!” I said in response, knowing the joke would be lost on him but not caring. His eyebrows met in the middle but he didn’t bother asking me what I was talking about. Instead, he started pacing again, shaking his head like I was one big, royal screwup.
“Je ne comprends pas. I do not understand, ma minette,” he said at last as he turned on his heel and faced me. “Why do you not believe me when I tell you that this matter is a severe one?”
“What matter?” I asked, even though I knew what he was talking about. Even so, there was something within me that enjoyed ruffling Drake’s feathers.
“The matter of ensuring the safety of our home!” he railed back at me as he started another lap across the bedroom. The heels of his shoes tapped against the hardwood floors, and the swish of his pant legs rubbing against one another was somehow relaxing and made me want to drift into a much more effortless sleep. “Ma minette!” he reprimanded me when it appeared I was doing just that. “Stay with me!”
I shook myself back into awareness and then tried to focus on the conversation. It was difficult, though, because I was suddenly exhausted. I had to wonder, even though I was asleep, if whatever sleep this was wasn’t very restful for my body. I couldn’t imagine it was because every time I woke up from one of Drake’s dream visits, I never felt restored. “So I guess Trina’s cleansing didn’t work?” I asked, frowning as I realized my suspicions had been right on.
“Non, il ne marchait pas! No, the cleansing didn’t work!” Drake yelled and, throwing his hands in the air, marched back toward the bank of windows again. He turned on his heel and glared at me. “Banishing the energy of something this grandiose requires the aid of a skillful and experienced practitioner. All you managed to do was goad it with your silly candles and your imitation sorcery!”
“Well excuse the hell out of me!” I yelled back at him, finally having had enough of his foul mood. “You told me to cleanse the house and that’s what I did!”
He shook his head and then held his forehead in his hands like he had a headache—something I imagined was impossible considering he was dead. “Perhaps I was not explicit enough in my instructions,” he said underneath his breath as he shook his head again. “Je ne sais pas. I don’t know.”
“So if the cleansing didn’t work, what’s the answer then?” I demanded, feeling incredibly frustrated and defensive all at the same time.
“The answer is that you find a voodoo priestess who knows what she is doing!” he bellowed at me, his eyes about bugging out of his head. “And you must do so promptly!”
“I’ll do the best I can!” I yelled back, although I thought I’d already done the best I could and look where that had gotten me…Nowhere. Now I was fresh out of ideas.
Drake walked over to the club chair beside mine and collapsed into it, settling his feet on the coffee table as he exhaled heavily. “I can feel the presence growing stronger day by day, and my own hold on this property dwindles.” He glanced over at me, and his eyes seemed heavier somehow, more weighted and serious.
The idea that whatever this thing was growing stronger sunk into my stomach like a sack of rocks, and I gulped down a sudden rising fear. “So this thing is centered here? In my, er, our house?”
Drake nodded and gritted his teeth. “Oui, and it is powerful enough that it is usurping my hold.”
“Wait, I don’t understand,” I said and shook my head as if to prove it. I sat up straight and moved my legs to the side so I could face him fully. “Usurping your hold?” I repeated. “I don’t know what that means. You have control over this house?”
He nodded again and stood up, pausing momentarily at the fireplace mantel before he shoved his hands back into his pockets and started pacing. When he reached the windows, he turned back toward me. “As this house belonged to me in life, my power is strongest here.”
“Okay, so what does that mean exactly?”
He swallowed, then pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed them against his chest. “Other entities cannot exert their control over this property as my power is too great.”
“Why would another entity want to exert control over this house?” I asked, frowning.
“There are spirits who are vagabonds, who are not tethered to any one place. They simply move from location to location, searching for a place to anchor themselves. They would certainly think well of this property, and were it not for my authority here, you would find yourself entertaining more spirits than you would care to!”
I didn’t have much time to consider the fact that Drake had some sort of control or authority over the house because I was more concerned with the fact that whatever this entity was, it was able to threaten that power. “But, this being is able to exert its control over you?” I asked, just to make sure I was following along accurately.
“Oui!” he responded in such a way that I could tell he was getting frustrated with my questions. “It is powerful; hence, I can feel my own strength fading,” he finished as he stopped walking and exhaled deeply. He leaned against the wall and stared out the window, taking in a view that had long since faded with time.
“What will happen if it continues to grow stronger and your power continues to grow weaker?” I asked, afraid for his answer.
He shook his head. “Je ne veux pas l’apprendre. I do not wish to find out.” He glared at me again. “That is why it is your responsibility to see to it that this is nipped in the bud now!”
“But I don’t know any professional voodoo priestesses!” I cried as I stood up and thrust my hands on my hips. I’d had enough of his bad mood mixed with the impending sense of doom that seemed to have cast itself over our heads.
“Then find one,” Drake replied indifferently.
“That’s easier said than done!” I railed back at him. “I already tried to find one and ended up with a ritual bag from the House of Voodoo! Clearly, I have no idea where to even begin looking!”
But the severe expression on Drake’s face didn’t change. Clearly he wasn’t interested in excuses. He cocked a brow at me and shook his head. “If you want to find one badly enough, you will.”
I frowned but figured arguing with him was useless. Maybe the yellow pages listed advanced voodoo priestesses, because if not, I had no clue where to even start in my search. But that was a thought for later on. Right now I had to understand what Drake meant when he said his power was fading—that this thing, whatever it was, was somehow exerting itself where it should not have been able to. “So what does this thing, this entity, want?” I asked, my tone of voice now calm.