Cursed (19 page)

Rene raised his eyebrows. His face was covered by two days growth of a beard, his
direct gaze and heavy features rendering his appearance dangerous. He was so close, and warmth pooled at the base of her belly. She wondered what it would be like to date someone like him, if he was gentle with his girlfriends like he was tough with the rest of the world. He was a bad boy, the opposite of Jayden, and yet, she found herself attracted to him as well.

“Did you win?” she asked curiously.

“It wasn’t a real fight either.” He turned away and returned to his chair, sinking into it. “You have a fallin’ out with cheerleaders over mascara?”

She rolled her eyes. Adrienne hopped off the table and went to the mirror over the sink. She stared, dismayed. Half of her long hair had been chopped to shoulder-length. She’d have to cut the other half when she got home, or she’d look awful for her singing debut at the school.

Rene’s aunt was right about her ear lobe. Most of it was missing, and it still bled down her neck. She looked awful, covered in blood and with half her hair missing. She bit back tears.

“Some voodoo priestess attacked me,” she said at last and returned to the table. “Was worried I’d take her grandson away or something.”

“No surprise.”

Adrienne looked up, startled.

Rene shrugged.

“What does that mean?” she prodded.

“Jax said your family was cursed. She probably knew it.”

Is it that obvious to everyone?
Adrienne absently rubbed the spot on her shoulder that marked the curse. It never saw the light of day and yet, somehow, everyone knew.

“She took my hair and threw blood on me,” Adrienne finished. “No chance she’s not making a voodoo doll or hex to put on me. Like I need another curse.”

Rene snorted, amused.

“It’s not funny, Rene.”

“A’ight.”

What was it with boys? Jayden took her to meet a woman who chopped off her ear and Rene thought curses were funny.

“You should learn to fight,” Rene advised.

“You know how to fight and you’re still here,” she pointed out.

“That’s different. I fought with Jax.”

“Your brother did that to you?”

“He got what he gave!” Rene shot back.

“Why were you fighting?”

“My family ain’t your business.”

“You’re not convincing me that learning to fight will help me at all,” she replied. “Doesn’t seem to do you no good.”

“I didn’t get my ear chopped off. Like I said, this was different. Always different when you fight family.”

“You do that often?” she asked quizzically. “Cuz I never fought any of my sisters.”

“You’re a girl.”

“Whatever.”

“You wanna learn, I’ll show you. You don’t, I won’t. Not my ears getting chopped off,” he said.

“Gee, thanks.”

“What he say?” his aunt demanded, walking in. She smacked Rene on the back of the head.

“I didn’t say nothing,” he growled.

“His mama moved in beside me when he was ten after his daddy ran off and his mama got sick. She don’t walk no more. Practically raised him and this is how he turn out?” his aunt complained
.

Adrienne smiled.

“Wipe that smile off, cinnamon rolls. This is gonna hurt. We saving our local anesthetic for people worse off than you,” his aunt told her.

Adrienne’s smile dropped. “You serious?”

“Yep. Can’t hurt as bad as you getting cut up. You be good, and I got cookies this time.” His aunt turned and waved to her nephew, “Come hold her hand. I gotta use both of mine to sew.”

Once more, Rene appeared less than pleased at being burdened with her. He tossed his ice and crossed to the table, slapping his hand palm up on the table beside her.

Adrienne placed a hand in his, not expecting to notice the size, warmth and strength of his. Was it possible to be attracted to two guys? Sweet, dreamy Jayden and Rene, her reluctant thug of a guardian!

“What your name? You been in here twice. I’ll make you a file in case you come back,” his aunt asked. “Hold still.”

“Adrienne St. Croix.” She jerked at the sting of alcohol on her already burning ear. Rene’s aunt cleaned her up quickly then reached for the small tray containing a needle, thread and needle-nosed surgeon’s pliers.

“She look like the girl Jax dated a few years ago,” his aunt observed, pulling off the bloodied gloves and pulling on a clean pair.

“Not really,” Rene replied. “She wasn’t puny.”

“I’m not puny!” Adrienne objected.

“You should let Rene teach you to fight. He had to learn cuz his daddy was the only white man on their block. Might keep you outta here,” his aunt said and lifted the needle.

“I don’t need to – oh, god!” Adrienne’s ears burst into buzzing as agony roared through her. Tunnel vision formed, and she slumped.

“Nice,” Rene muttered.

Adrienne was vaguely aware of his arms circling her to keep her from falling off the table.

“I’m quick,” his aunt said, unconcerned.

The piercing pain made her want to throw up. True to her words, his aunt was fast and had the wound stitched within a few long seconds. Adrienne felt her wipe it down again then bandage it.

“Is she okay?” Rene asked uncertainly.

“She fine,” his aunt said. “Brighten right up when I bring in cookies.”

Adrienne forced herself out of the in-between place. She’d been attacked by a crazy priestess then almost passed out when someone tried to stitch her up. She helped raise her three younger sisters and manage her unstable mom. Of all things, she wasn’t weak, but today made her feel that way.

She drew a deep breath, pulling in Rene’s scent. He was strong and lean beneath the saggy clothing. Her ear throbbed, and his grip was solid.

He held her close until his aunt was done. His hands slid down her arms as he released her but kept one hand on her back to steady her. She rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and enjoying the way his warmth came through his t-shirt.

“You got even whiter,” Rene said, studying her.

Self-awareness spun through her. Did he think she was weak for almost passing out?

His eyes settled on her lips and lingered.

Was he thinking of kissing her?

Adrienne stared at him, startled but thrilled by the idea he was attracted to her. As if sensing her thought, he pulled away from her.

“It’s been a weird day,” she said. Adrienne wiped her face. She felt tired and weak. “Did you have any luck with Jax about the journal?”

“Don’t talk about it here,” Rene snapped quietly, attention shifting to the door.

“Are you walking me home again?” she asked. “Because I want my journal back.”

Rene shrugged and returned to his chair.

“Your cookies,” his aunt said, appearing in the doorway. “You feel okay?”

Adrienne nodded and accepted a sandwich bag with three cookies. They were warm to the touch, and her mouth watered. It was almost dinnertime, and her lunch salads weren’t filling her up at all.

“Go on. Rene, you walk her home. I don’t want to see her here again!”

“I had nothing to do with this!” Rene replied, standing.

“She got issues. The Lord say we take care of people with issues.”

“I don’t have issues,” Adrienne said, dismayed. She stood, wobbled and steadied herself.

“Maybe I should send more cookies. Fatten you up a little. A stiff breeze take you away.” Rene’s aunt laughed loudly.

“Thank you. Again.” Adrienne mumbled and walked out.

Did she have issues? Or at least, did she
appear
to have issues? Like her mother? People who saw her mother knew she’d bring drama with her, even before she opened her mouth. It was the crazed look in her eyes.

Was Adrienne turning into her?

Double ugh!
She started out of the clinic, lost in her thoughts and wincing with each step that seemed to jar her sensitive ear. Judging by the last two days, she had something going on, or she wouldn’t keep finding herself at the free clinic.

When she reached the humid outdoors, Adrienne waited for Rene. She reached into her book bag.

“Are things going to get better?” she whispered.

She pulled out a card.

“Chariot, reversed.”
Ick.
There was no such thing as a bad card, but this was yet another one of caution. “Okay, so no reckless actions.”

“You read cards?” Rene asked.

She turned to look up at him, one hand going to her hip.

“My journal,” she said once more.

“I’m working on it,” he said. “Really. You can do tarot?”

“Yeah,” she said, replacing the card. Unlike Jayden, she didn’t feel a need to hide herself from Rene.

“I want one,” he said. He moved closer, digging into her book bag.

“I can’t just do it on the spot!” she objected. “I have to sit and concentrate.”

“You’re smart. What this one mean?”

Adrienne rolled her eyes at him, but relented. She snatched it out of his hand. “Strength, reversed. It means you’re stronger than you think.”

“Even the damn cards want me to be a warrior.” He started away. “This is the last time I walk you home.”

“My journal.” Adrienne replaced the card and then followed with a sigh. “Rene, it’s important.”

“Jax ain’t taken off his mask in five years out of respect for your sister. If you think I can just ask him and he gives me the book, you a fool. He won’t do it for a pretty girl like you and he won’t do it for his brother. That book’s going nowhere.”

Pretty
. In the course of a few hours, she’d had two guys compliment her. It soothed the pain in her ear to know that tough Rene found her pretty, no matter how irritated he was about walking her home again.

Adrienne nibbled on a cookie, quiet for a moment. “Rene do you think Jax will talk to me about my sister?”

“No.”

“Did she have any friends? Anyone else I can talk to?”

He glanced down at her. “Not dressed like that.”

She purposely didn’t look at her bloodied shirt. She was feeling light-headed enough as it was.

“I’ll change clothes. Then we can go?” she asked quickly.

“What makes you think I got time for you?”

“Because I know where your aunt works, and I’ll tell her if you don’t.”

Rene stopped walking and stared at her. Adrienne held her breath. He muttered something then spun and began walking again.

“C’mon.”

She went. When he didn’t answer, she sank into troubled silence. It seemed like learning more about her sister was within reach, yet no one was willing to talk to her about it. Not her father, not Jax, not Rene. The prickly gang member was the most likely to help her but even he was close-lipped.

They reached her building.

“You got five minutes. Go change,” Rene said gruffly. He took up a position against the building, leaning back with his arms crossed.

“Really?” she asked, brightening.

He tossed his head toward the door.

Adrienne ran. She waited impatiently for the elevator then changed at the speed of light when she reached her daddy’s apartment. With no time to wash the blood from her hair or cut it all to the same length, she shoved it all under a hat. She barely made the five minute deadline and burst through the front door in time to see Rene making an exchange with another man who looked like a gang member or drug dealer.

Whatever Rene received, he shoved in his pocket without acknowledging the other man now headed down the street. Adrienne looked at him critically.

“Are you on drugs?” she asked, approaching.

“You want to see this person or not?” he returned.

“Yes.”

“Then mind your own damn business. C’mon.”

Adrienne said nothing and joined him walking down the sidewalk. He didn’t go far but cut through a vacant alley, crossed a street, entered another alley and walked half a block to an equally run down area with mom-and-pop eateries, apartment buildings and small businesses. Graffiti decorated the walls and curbs while trash clogged the shallow gutters.

He stopped at the
Coffee Loa
. Decals of veves decorated the windows, which were covered by heavy black drapery. She read the small wording printed in one window.

Bokor services available upon request. Results not guaranteed

Rene walked in.

Adrienne, however, hesitated, hand going to her hurt ear. The last voodoo priestess she met cut off her earlobe.

Rene waited. “Won’t no one attack you here.” He held out one arm.

Adrienne stepped forward. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him as he had the first time he walked her home, assuring her that she would be all right. She relaxed against him.

She entered timidly, glancing around the room. Half of it was a café with a dozen small tables, the other half a store. Haitian and African décor, altars, kits for creating ceremonial veves, spells-in-a-jar, dried animal parts, herbs and other voodoo supplies and knickknacks lined the shelves of the shallow front of the store. A woman in tribal African dress and head wrap sat behind the counter, reading a romance novel.

“Hey, Candace,” Rene said, approaching the counter. “Brought someone who wanted to meet you.” Candace set down her novel and stood. She was tall and slender with intelligent, dark eyes that settled on Adrienne with caution and curiosity.

“The cursed girl’s sister,” she guessed.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Adrienne.”

Adrienne hung back from the counter, waiting for a pair of shears to appear in the woman’s hand. Candace studied her for a moment then moved towards a curtain blocking off the back of the shop from view from the front.

“You must have many questions,” she said.

“I do,” Adrienne replied.

“Come. We will talk.”

Adrienne gave a sidelong glance at Rene, whose response was to push her towards Candace. Adrienne went.

“You have nothing to fear here.” Candace’s smile was kind. “I smell fresh blood. Are you okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. I got hurt today,” Adrienne murmured.

“Come in. Rene, bring my calming tea.”

Adrienne followed her into a small, comfortable room with a table on one side. At the other side was an altar with candles and a wooden image of Papa Legba, the god of good fortune, also known as a good-natured trickster. She relaxed, relieved to see Candace’s family god was not one of the darker gods.

Adrienne sat on a stool opposite Candace.

“Let me see your hand, Adrienne,” Candace said.

Adrienne held her right hand out. Candace took it in her cool palms and peered at it closely. Adrienne waited apprehensively, relieved when Candace leaned back. The woman appeared thoughtful rather than freaked out.

“What do you know of this curse on your family?” Candace asked.

“Not much,” Adrienne admitted. Her hand went to her shoulder automatically. “It’s old. Mama says it claimed my sister and any firstborns in our family.”

“You don’t know why your family bears it?”

“No. Can you tell?” Adrienne lifted her palm curiously.

“I can’t see your past. This type of curse usually is one doled out for punishment of only the greatest of crimes involving blood rites,” Candace said. She frowned, gazing into the distance for a moment. “Horrific crimes.”

“You think my family did wrong?”

“It’s possible. Or you had an enemy whose vengeance knew no limits or morals.”

“No one in my mom’s family would tell me this,” Adrienne admitted. “I asked all kinds of people for help.”

“It’s dangerous to speak of it. I am risking drawing the attention of the dark spirits enforcing the curse, which is why we are seated here to discuss it.” Candace pointed to the veves and protective symbols drawn on the floor beneath the table. “It seems wrong to bear the curse without knowing why.” Her brown eyes were sympathetic.

Adrienne liked her. A lot.

“Tea,” Rene said. He passed through a rattling bead curtain leading to the back room of the store. On a round tray was an old, oriental tea set with two cups and a pot. He set it down then sat in a chair in the corner.

“You will like this,” Candace said to Adrienne. She poured two cups and placed one before Adrienne. “Straight from Africa. A private recipe from my cousins. It will loosen you up and help you channel the spirits.”

Adrienne took her cup, enjoying the warmth of the tea. She sniffed the light green-brown liquid. Its scent was faint and light: jasmine and something woody. She sipped it, pleased to find the flavor just as light.

“What brings you here?” Candace asked.

“I’ve been asking Rene about my sister. He won’t tell me anything,” Adrienne replied.

“I don’t remember nothing important,” he growled from the corner. “I spent most my time taking care of my mother until a couple years ago.”

“Rene,” Candace said calmly. “There was a time you were so sweet and innocent.”

He snorted. “That passed.”

“I know.” Candace appeared sad for a moment. “Kids grow up, I suppose.”

Adrienne drank more tea. There was a familiarity between the two of them, the kind born of tragedy or shared blood. Adrienne experienced the same kinship with Therese’s best friend from Atlanta, who continued to check in on her family, even five years later.

“Jax took my journal.” Adrienne didn’t realize she’d spoken until both looked at her.

She set the tea down, feeling relaxed enough to be drowsy. Candace hadn’t touched her tea, and Adrienne’s gaze lingered on the cup.

“Jax took your journal?” Candace asked, drawing Adrienne’s attention away from the tea.

“I’ve been trying to get it back. It was Therese’s. I think … the tea is … working.”

“Relax and let it. I’ll ask you a few questions and that’s it.”

Adrienne nodded.

The scene turned dream-like. Candace asked her a question she didn’t hear. Candace’s lips moved, but the words were lost in the hazy distance between them.

Adrienne heard herself answer, also not processing what she said. She focused on Candace’s dark eyes while responding to questions she couldn’t understand. At one point, she thought she was writing something instead of talking but couldn’t be certain. She didn’t seem able to control her body, and felt as if she just floated around.

After a while lost in her thoughts, Adrienne found herself reaching for more tea. She sipped and drank.

Blinking, the world around her became clear again, and Adrienne’s senses returned, along with her ability to comprehend what was going on. Rene was seated at the table with them.

She shook her head to clear it of the last of the tea’s effects then peered into the cup.

“What just happened?” she asked.

“The tea was a little strong for you, I think,” Candace said with a warm smile. “Look.” She raised her eyebrows towards a piece of paper in front of Adrienne.

Adrienne looked down and snatched her hands off the table. She’d drawn something while in her stupor: the Red Man, his symbol and a few nonsensical sentences resembling those she’d found in her sister’s journal. In addition, she’d written the word
chosen
three times and drawn boxes around it. Of all she’d written, she couldn’t take her eyes off the robed man.

“Who is he?” she asked, her heart racing once more.

“I don’t know exactly,” Candace said. “Where I come from, the Red Man is a cannibal-like figure, one who preys on his own kind. I think you know what – or who – he is. Or perhaps, the spirits of those who came before you do and are trying to tell you.”

“I wrote this?”

“You did.”

“My sister’s journal was filled with it.” Adrienne stared at the writing. Like her sister’s, it contained some French, some English, some letters randomly capitalized. “They’re not even words, except for
chosen
. They make no sense.”

“Perhaps they are not meant to be words. Maybe they mean something else.”

“Like what?”

“Letters are symbols. If you look at them not as part of something bigger but as letters, do they tell you something different?”

Adrienne stared at the writing. She didn’t understand what Candace was trying to tell her.

“A code, a sequence, a private meaning?” Candace prodded.

Adrienne shook her head. She sighed and pushed the paper away from her, eyeing the Red Man she’d drawn.

Candace and Rene exchanged a look. Rene’s crossed arms rested on the back of the chair. He shrugged at Candace’s unspoken communication.

“You think I should know what this is,” Adrienne guessed.

“Your sister knew.”

“Really?”

“From what we know of her, yes,” Candace added. “I never met her. The spirits have told me some about her and that she was cursed and Jax had lost his ways and Rene was sure to follow.”