Bayou Baby (13 page)

“What do you mean?” Henri’s face was inches from hers.

Rowan lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “I have a few things to finish up before I can leave. You’re better off not knowing.”

“Lucien?”

“Yes, he’s one.”

Behind her, Justine sobbed. A small, frightened sound that grated on Rowan’s frayed nerves.

“Rowan,” Justine pleaded. “Just give it up. He’s not worth it. Let’s just go. We can leave in the morning and never return.”

“I’ll never be free as long as Lucien lives, and I’ll never be happy unless those men pay for what they did to me. I don’t ask you to understand it, just accept that I’m going to do what needs to be done.”

“You aren’t their judge; it’s not for you to punish them,” Justine said.

“I promised each of them they’d pay for what they did. They sealed their own fate.”

They argued in whispers until the sun cast orange streaks across the early morning sky. Finally, Henri accepted Rowan’s decision, though he refused to leave her alone.

“I know you feel you have to do this,” he said. “But I really think you need a friend. I can’t leave you knowing you’re putting yourself in danger.”

“I’m in no more danger now than I was in at Rosaline’s. It’s far less now actually, because Lucien no longer has the upper hand.”

“But he does,” Justine argued. “Don’t you see? He’ll always win. He has more money and power than anyone in this stinking place.”

“He won’t win. I could go to the police. Surely what they’re doing at Rosaline’s is illegal.”

“Lucien has the police in his pocket. He takes what he wants and no one will stop him. The police do what he says, not the other way around. People like us can’t defeat people like him.”

Rowan frowned. Justine had shown her cowardice too many times. If she couldn’t stop being so spineless, she’d wind up dead.

“He doesn’t know me, which is to my advantage,” Rowan explained. “He doesn’t know how far I’ll go. He thinks I’ll run, because my mother is dead and I have no one. He’s too arrogant to believe I’d have the guts to try to stop him.”

Henri stood and peered out the small window. “You’re wrong. I think he’ll wait for you to come to him. You’re underestimating him.”

“Henri, I know he thinks I’m going to come after him, and that’s the beauty of my plan. He will wait and wait, and when he believes I’ve run off, then I will strike.”

“It won’t work.”

Rowan sighed. This was going nowhere. She’d have to allow them to think she was running as well. It was the only way to get rid of them.

“Fine, I won’t go after him, but I’m not leaving either.”

Henri eyed her doubtfully but said nothing. They watched the sun rise full in the sky. Rowan smiled at the black smoke still rising in thin wisps through the trees.

“What happened at your mother’s?” Henri asked, his gaze on the window.

“Fire.”

“How?”

Rowan gathered up supplies for their trip through the swamp. “She’s better off. Lucien would have used her to get to me. Leave it alone.”

Justine stared, eyes wide and tearful. She looked at Henri who shook his head and helped Rowan prepare.

“Where are we going?” Justine asked.

Rowan tossed a bag at her and went to the door. “Not sure yet. There’s another shack, way back from here, Mama Gator used for her conjuring. If I can find it, we’ll be safe there.”

“Do you know how far back?” Henri asked.

“I’ve never seen it. I just know it’s there.”

“It might be nothing more than another one of that woman’s stories. We can’t go traipsing through the swamp looking for something that may or may not exist.”

“Mama Gator said it was, so it is. You’re welcome to go home any time you wish.”

“Fine, let’s go.” Henri led the way out of the cabin. He stopped at the bottom of the steps to wait for Rowan to direct them.

“She told me it’s through the trees, into the darkest part of the swamp. It’s up in one of the old oaks out here.”

“Up
in the oak?” Justine sounded afraid, again.

“Yes, Justine. And it’s brilliant. Would you be searching in the trees for a runaway whore? I wouldn’t.”

“The only oaks large enough are clear across the swamp. It’ll take all day to get there, and there are all sorts of nasty things waiting the further in we go,” Henri argued. “You won’t have to worry about Lucien, because the things hiding in the swamp will kill us.”

“Those creatures won’t hurt us so long as we leave them alone. If you’re too chicken, rich boy, then stay here and wait for Lucien.” Rowan tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked away, smiling as their voices reached her.

“There’s something different about her,” Justine murmured. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s called getting cocky. She was lucky and ambushed Rosaline and those men, now she thinks she can do anything.”

“No, it’s something more. Something evil.”

Rowan chuckled. Justine had a vivid imagination. She turned to see how close they followed, but they hadn’t moved from the steps. They stood with their heads close unaware that Rowan watched them.

A breeze whipped through the trees, tossing their hair about their faces. Justine shivered and Henri took her hand. “It’s just the wind,
cherie
. You can trust me, I’ll keep you safe.”

“How often have you felt a wind like that here in the swamp, Monsieur Fontaine?” Justine looked up at the sky. “Not a cloud in sight either.”

“Now Rowan’s got you spooked. It’s probably the old woman’s ghost come to get us for speaking ill of her baby.”

Rowan turned before they noticed she stopped, smiling at their foolishness.

Justine walked with Henri until the path narrowed so that they had to move single file.

Soon there was no path to follow, and the bugs were thick as soup. The trees grew dense, and the ground turned from brown to green as they walked through moss and fern. Rowan smiled at the little clusters of yellow, white and blue flowers that brightened the dreary landscape.

Henri spat out a bug and cursed. “Rowan, shouldn’t we be there by now? It’s going to be dark soon. You do know where to go,
non?”

“Of course I do; it’s close,” Rowan snapped. In truth, she was concerned she had passed it, but she’d never admit it to Henri.

Rowan looked up into the trees as she walked, stumbling here and there but staying upright. She almost gave up hope when the foliage above grew darker, less scattered. She stopped and turned around in a circle, shielding her eyes from the late day sun that broke through the canopy of leaves.

“This is it,” she cried.

Henri and Justine ran to catch up with her, looking up into the trees as well.

“Where?” Henri asked.

Rowan pointed. “Up there, see where the sun doesn’t peek through the leaves. That round dark patch? That’s it.”

Henri glanced at her, and then back at the tree. Justine stood next to him and touched his sleeve.

“Henri? That’s not it. Please tell me it’s not.”

“That’s it,” Rowan said.

“It’s nothing but a tree house,” Henri said. “A child’s plaything. There are no steps or grooves in the tree. How are we supposed to get up there?”

“We climb, rich boy.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You are one.”

“Just stop. We’re not climbing up there.” He shook his head and crossed his arms.             

“You don’t have to do anything, but I am.” Rowan slung her bag over her shoulder and walked to the base of the giant oak. Hiking her skirts up, she tied the ends at her waist, exposing a good amount of leg.

She searched for a moment before lifting one leg, then the other, shimmying up the massive tree. “There are foot holes hidden in the bark. Come on, it’s not that hard. If an old woman could do it, so can you.”

“She probably flew,” muttered Henri. “You go up ahead of me, Justine. If you slip I can catch you.”

“How gallant, sir,” Rowan taunted from her perch, she was nearly a third of the way up the tree. “Careful Justine, those pretty words are how he hides his true nature. Beneath them you’ll find a rapist and a coward.”

Justine paled, and Henri tightened his grip on her waist. “Don’t listen to her
ma petite,
she is angry with me still. A lover’s quarrel.”

“I see,” Justine tentatively stepped on the first notch in the tree. Her foot held and she pulled herself up. “It’s not so bad Henri, but I hate to think what coming down will be like.”

They made their way up the giant tree, slipping here and there, Henri cursing most of the way. Rowan climbed like a monkey, barely missing a step. Once she reached the little house, she felt around for a latch to the door.

“She probably didn’t bother with a door,” Henri grumbled. “Why would she when she could fly right through the window?”

“Mama Gator was no witch. Not that witches can fly anyway. There’s a door here, I just need to find the catch.” Rowan felt around until she found a crack in the smooth wood. She ran her hand along the seam until she touched metal.

“Aha,” she looked down at the others with a grin. “I found it.” She pulled on the latch and the hidden door swung down, a rope ladder rolling out after.

“Better make sure that thing is attached to something.” Henri warned.

“Mama Gator had more sense than that. It’s safe.” Rowan swung her foot to hook the ladder and climbed into the little shack. “It’s perfect.”

She swung the ladder toward Justine who grappled awkwardly with it. Twice Rowan thought she would fall, but she held on and made it inside. Her cry echoed in the quiet of the trees. Henri rolled his eyes as he mounted the ladder.

“Mademoiselles,
it is a tree house, nothing more. You behave as though you’ve come across a palace.”

He scrambled over the edge and lifted his body inside. The women ignored him as he struggled to pull the door closed again. “A little help?”

“Oh sorry,” Rowan joined him and they heaved the door up. It was heavy. Rowan couldn’t imagine Mama Gator getting it closed. “Justine, you tie it off while we hold it.”

Justine took the rope attached to the inside of the door and tied it to a ring on the wall.

Henri stood and checked the knot. He tied a few more knots before turning around.

“This is interesting.” He said taking in his surroundings.

“It’s wonderful. We could stay here as long as we need to,” Rowan said.

“Sure, if we didn’t need to eat, drink, or anything like that,” Henri grumbled.

“But look,” Rowan went over to the wall opposite them. Its shelves were filled with row upon row of jars. “We’ve got water, meat, vegetables, soups, everything we’ll need.”

Henri curled his nose and moved closer. “Are you sure that’s what is in those? I don’t know. I’d hate to turn into a toad.”

Justine giggled and Rowan frowned. Henri was the most obstinate man. “It’s food. During the winter, she practically lived out here because the water comes too high to stay at the other shack.”

Justine came to examine a jar of what appeared to be beans. “Food only keeps so long, and in this heat—”

“She’s pickled most of it, which means everything here will keep indefinitely. We’ll be fine.” Rowan took the jar from her.

Justine wandered around the cramped room, coming to a stop on a lower group of shelves next to the little window. She ran her finger along the labels, squinting to read the faded writing. Her face paled and she looked back at Rowan.

“What is this here?”

“Just potions, for healing and such.” Rowan crossed the room to join her. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Healing, right,” Henri said and snorted. “Justine, it’s best we don’t touch anything.”

Rowan was growing tired of his negativity. She didn’t need him anymore and wished he’d just leave. “There is nothing here that will hurt you. Mama Gator didn’t practice that kind of magic.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust the woman.”

“You don’t have to trust her. You don’t have to trust me either. In fact, Monsieur Fontaine, you can leave anytime.”

“I’ll leave when you give up this foolishness about revenge and run away with Justine and me as any sane person would do.”

“I said he would suffer and I meant it. I didn’t ask you to come. I recall telling you to leave me alone. Once I finish with Lucien, I won’t have to run. I can stay here and get on with my life.”

“But we could go away somewhere you won’t have to hide, where no one knows who you are or what you’ve done. Why do you insist on taking the difficult route when it’s not necessary?”

“I’ve lost enough. This swamp is my home and I won’t let him take another thing from me.”

“You cannot beat him,” Justine whispered. “He’s far too powerful.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” Rowan turned to the window. She stared at her reflection. Her eyes seemed to spark with a light that she knew some would mistake as madness, but she wasn’t crazy. Revenge was an honest, perfectly normal reaction to the pain they’d caused her.