“Tarsa, the woman who placed the curse, was very powerful. When Sebastian’s father searched for his son, he had the plantation turned upside down. He caught wind of what had happened a few days after the binding. He captured and tortured slaves, killing several of them in an effort to find his son.”
Michelle could only imagine the grief the elder Maddox had gone through after his son disappeared. Still, killing people to get answers was not the solution to the problem.
“He killed her?”
Marta nodded. “Not immediately. But after several weeks, then yes, he did.”
Michelle reached for her cup, took a sip of the cooling liquid. “Why didn’t Tarsa release Sebastian and end what was happening?”
“According to legend, Tarsa only meant to teach Sebastian a lesson, about using people.”
“Yes, he told me about Sarya.”
The look of astonishment on Marta’s face made Michelle smile. “I wish I could speak with him. All these years I’ve tried to summon him, but it has not worked. And you walk in and…”
Michelle covered Marta’s hand with her own. “Finish your story.”
“Yes, of course. Tarsa bound Sebastian’s soul to a
bochio
, making it so that he was released for one hour a day, at sunrise.”
“A
bochio
?”
“A wooden carving. It was the precursor to voodoo dolls, if you like.” Marta got up and refilled her mug. She took Michelle’s cup, poured out the almost untouched coffee and refilled it before sitting back down. “
Bochios
are not evil, nor are voodoo dolls unless people use them that way. The carvings can be used for protection. In this case, it was used to protect Sebastian’s soul, as it has done for years.”
Michelle wanted to tell the woman that this wasn’t the time to go into a lecture about voodoo and religion. But Marta seemed to know that and continued talking without being pushed.
“She meant to unleash his spirit after Sarya and Nadim had a chance to run away together, but Mr. Maddox’s reaction caused a change in the plans. I think, personally, that she might have kept Sebastian’s spirit trapped in retaliation for the slaves who were killed. Then, before she could release him, she herself died.”
The weight around Michelle’s heart increased. “That means he’s stuck, right?”
“Possibly.” Marta cocked her head just slightly. “Over the years, my ancestors have tried to break the spell, to no avail. My great-grandmother, though, was very powerful. She couldn’t release him, but she did perform a ceremony that she felt altered the curse.”
“Did it work?”
Marta shook her head, then frowned. “We did not think so at the time. But now that you can see him, I think it might have.”
Michelle’s hands shook. She grasped the mug, trying to keep them steady. “How exactly was the curse changed?”
“I think you know.”
Marta’s answer was soft, but it still sent chills up Michelle’s spine. “Holy crap, he really is a male sleeping beauty. And I’m his Princess Charming.”
The world stopped revolving, or at least it did for Michelle. She sat rock still in her chair, staring at her coffee cup. “Things don’t work this way, you know. I may write fables, but they’re fiction. Real life romance never works.”
Marta gave her a small smile, then blinked her eyes rapidly. Michelle figured she was giving herself time to compose a decent answer that refuted Michelle’s words. Before she could though, Michelle continued.
“Besides, I’ve kissed him, and he’s still cursed. He still disappeared this morning.”
Right after he gave me the most fantastic orgasm I’ve had in ages.
“That was lust,” Marta said. “You must kiss him with love on your lips.”
“People don’t fall in love at first sight. You have to get to know someone, and even then you don’t really know them.”
Because they turn out to be like Justin, screw you one minute and then screw you again, in a totally different manner the next.
“Hannah and I fell in love at first sight.”
Her current muse’s voice was so full of conceit she wished he were real so she could smack him.
“Can it, Charles! Nobody invited you to this discussion.”
“Charles?” Marta looked around the room, her eyes wide in amazement. “Are you a spirit guide?”
Michelle put her head on the table. “No, I’m a writer who hears her characters’ voices sometimes. Ignore me.”
The room grew silent for a few moments, and then Marta pushed back her chair and walked to the stove. “You cannot tell me you didn’t feel something for Sebastian during the time you spent together.”
The sound of eggs cracking reached Michelle’s ears and her stomach growled. “Yes, I felt pity for him, for what he’d gone through.” Which was true. The fact that she’d felt extreme lust didn’t have to figure into the conversation. Except she’d already told Marta that she and Sebastian had kissed.
This dialogue was dangerous, and could lead places Michelle didn’t want to go. An about face was needed right now. “Do you know where Sebastian’s body is?”
“Yes.” Marta worked at the stove and counter, her back to Michelle.
“Will you show me?”
“No.” This time she turned to face her. “I am his guardian. I am entrusted to his care, and leading you there without your agreement to try and help him would be foolish on my part.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.” Michelle ogled the plate of food Marta put in front of her. Eggs, bacon and toast. It made her mouth water and she picked up her fork, eating faster than she should have. When she was partway through, she paused to take a sip of the juice Marta had given her. “Listen, falling in love isn’t easy. And if you expect to have someone just pop in and save this guy, I think you’re living a pipe dream.”
Marta put her own plate down, then sat. She didn’t touch any of her food, though. Instead she kept her gaze on Michelle. “Tell me, then, why you are the only one who has ever seen him? In one hundred and eighty six years, no one—not me, not any of my ancestors—has ever seen him. And we are his guardians. If there is not a bond between you, why did this happen?”
“She is right you know…”
Charles’ voice drifted off as Michelle held up her hand.
“I’m sorry, I simply don’t believe I can fall in love with someone I just met. Maybe I’m only the catalyst to get the ball rolling. Maybe now that he’s out of the dark, so to speak, you’ll see him, too. Come to the cove in the morning.”
Marta ran her fork through her eggs. “I’ve been to that cove many times, as a child and as an adult. I’ve never seen him. Not once. I’ve never felt an inkling of his spirit, or witnessed a glimmer of his presence. If I had not seen his sleeping body and the
bochio,
I would think him nothing more than a myth handed down from generation to generation.”
Michelle wasn’t quite sure what to say. She wanted to help Sebastian, she truly did. But she’d made a promise to herself to never fall in love again until she was one hundred perfect certain it would last. Forever. Since she’d only known Sebastian for three hours, technically, she couldn’t come to that conclusion. There was no telling what would happen if she did let herself go and then released him.
She stood quickly, glancing down at Marta. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”
Michelle marched out of the room, hurrying so she didn’t have to answer any questions. But she didn’t have to worry about that. The woman remained silent, and Michelle was almost to her room before Charles spoke up again.
“You are a fool, you know. You deny yourself happiness.”
“How do you know?” She slammed into the room, noticing her empty desk. Her laptop and papers were still at the beach. She needed to go and get them, in case an afternoon rainstorm visited the area. “Stay here, Charles.”
She was almost to the beach before Charles sounded in her head again.
“Are you not the same woman who helped Hannah overcome her fear of my cock?”
Everything was exactly where she left it, and she gathered it into a pile, stuffing the stack into the huge bag that was her constant companion. She put her laptop on top of the papers. “It’s not the same thing, Charles. Just leave it alone.”
“It seems to me as if you are allowing Justin to control your life, even after he made it clear that he had no more interest in you.”
Anger mixed with pain flowed through her. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? Look at it this way. I am your muse, yes, but I am not real. The things I think come from you. Somewhere down inside you have budding feelings for Sebastian. I am telling you to listen to those feelings. So in essence, you are telling yourself to listen.”
“You know what, Charles. Right now I hate your guts. Get away from me.”
“You hate the fact I’m right. The more you think about it the more you’ll realize that.”
His laughter was deep.
“Charles?”
She waited for his murmured, “Yes?” before she said, “Go to hell.”
Michelle tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes she could see Sebastian’s face: the crooked tilt of his mouth when he smiled, and the look of pain in his deep blue eyes as he described coming to the cove for one hundred and eighty six years to watch the sunrise every morning.
She tried to imagine what that would be like, to return to the same area day after day, knowing nothing would ever change, and then suddenly having a woman notice you where no one else ever had. No wonder he’d been so eager to touch her the first night, and the second and third. Who could blame him?
Not that she was complaining. His touch had been magical, and she’d loved every second of it. Right up until the time the word
love
had spilled out of Marta’s mouth.
She lay in bed now, staring up at the gathering of mosquito netting. It met in the center and moved outward, covering the entire bed, caging her in.
Much like Sebastian is caged in, only he can’t leave his prison.
She recognized Charles’ voice in her mind but she ignored it.
He didn’t need to be giving her advice. She had created him, hadn’t she? She’s the one who thought for him. He didn’t need to do the same for her.
“Maybe he does,” she thought, sitting up in the center of the bed and looking out over the room. The sun was still up, which meant she’d gotten very little sleep. She needed to lie back down, try and drift off. She had work to do tonight, pages that needed to be written or Sandra would come after her, stand over her shoulder with a bat and make sure Michelle pounded out the words to get her story done in time to make her deadline.
She mulled over her options. She could sleep, she could write, or she could go on her own little treasure hunt, see if she could find Sebastian’s lair. It couldn’t be anywhere in the house, since Mark had totally redone it. He’d told her they’d gutted the place and started from scratch, adding new plumbing and electricity before putting up new walls and redoing rooms to add bathrooms and turn massive rooms into only slightly huge rooms.
“Kate, I wish you were here right now. I need someone to talk to.”
“You have me,”
Charles said. He lounged at the end of the bed, his feet hanging over the edge, swinging back and forth to move the net.
“And as much as I sympathize with Sebastian’s plight, I must say my cock needs attention. I suggest you write.”
“Your cock always needs attention, Charles. You’re the horniest hero I’ve created in quite some time.”
“Thank you.”
The note of arrogance in his voice made her smile.
“Perhaps a hand job? I do love those when they’re done right, with her sweet hand putting just the right amount of pressure on my staff. And of course, I would return the favor. Hannah is so soft and willing now. She’s waiting patiently.”
“I’m sure she is.” Michelle walked to her computer. It reawakened and she checked the time. A little after six. That meant she had a few more hours until the sun set. But she had no idea where to begin searching for Sebastian. Maybe she should try in the morning, when Sebastian disappeared. He had to walk to his lair, didn’t he? He couldn’t fly there, or just magically appear and reappear.
Of course she knew that he could, though, because that is exactly what he’d done—poofed in and out. But if he had to come to the cove every morning, his hiding place must be close by. Maybe it was underground, or located in some sort of…cave. Was there a cave near the cove?
Could be, but putting it that close to the shore could be dangerous if a hurricane visited the area. Unless the cave was magically protected. If a spell could hold a man captive for one hundred and eighty six years, surely it could defend against the elements, too.
Michelle tried to connect to the Internet and failed. She either had to go back to the library in St. Augustine tomorrow or she needed to go to Mark’s office and send Sandra a fax, let her know what was happening with the manuscript. In the meantime, she needed to work. She had less than two weeks to finish four chapters and get them polished enough for Sandra to send to her publisher, and hopefully sell.