The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1) (25 page)

“I don’t understand!” Jazzmyn exclaimed, putting her hands over her belly.

“The intended is the one he can mate with, but the chosen one is the only person who can end the curse.” Ms. Helen turned to Julian. “History has a funny way of repeatin’ itself, don’t it, boy? The dead girl was pregnant, wasn’t she?”

Jazzmyn gawked at Julian. “Odette was pregnant?”

He nodded slightly. “I never knew until after Odette was dead. Eve told me the same day she placed the curse on me. Odette never told her of the child, but Eve knew, just like Lucinda knows about you.”

Ms. Helen turned to the list of names on the tomb entrance. “Eve wanted him to pay for Odette and the baby. That’s why he had to find you. Eve made it so he had to recreate what he had with Odette. It’s not her he has to make amends with…it’s his child.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jazzmyn cried out. “So now what happens? What am I supposed to do, Ms. Helen?”

“Ms. Helen?” Julian roared. “Ms. Helen from your restaurant?”

Jazzmyn waved to her. “Her real name is Helen Batiste. And yes, she works at my restaurant.”

Julian glared at Ms. Helen. “You’re the one who has been filling Jazzmyn’s head with lies about me.”

She shook her finger at him. “They weren’t lies, and you know it, demon.”

“You told Jazzmyn I was going to kill her. You said that knowing we would be coming here tonight to lift the curse. Are you even a real voodoo priestess?” he asked, raising his voice.  

“I’m the best in the city. I can make powerful juju.” Ms. Helen sighed and removed her dark glasses. “But I cannot lift your curse tonight.”

“You mean you won’t lift it!” Julian shouted. “You two planned this. You both conspired to cheat me of my freedom from this hell!” 

“Julian, I didn’t know Ms. Helen was Lucinda La Cre. I swear it,” Jazzmyn pleaded, fearing the growing anger she heard in his voice. 

Ms. Helen turned to him. “It doesn’t matter. Nothin’ can be done with the child comin’.”

Julian leaned his head back and gave a booming, guttural howl that echoed throughout the cemetery. The muscles in his body began expanding and his black clothes quickly stretched taut across his chest and thighs. His breath came in frantic fits and his eyes rolled over black. His fists beat into his thighs as his shoulders widened. He bent over in pain while small white horns sprouted from his head. When he finally stood erect before Jazzmyn and Ms. Helen, he was well over seven feet tall.

His vile eyes found Jazzmyn and he made a move toward her, but Ms. Helen bravely jumped in front of him.

“Kill her and you kill any chance you have of freein’ yourself of this,” she barked at him.

He grabbed Ms. Helen by the arm with his thick, hairy hand.

She turned to Jazzmyn and yelled, “Run!”

Julian clasped his other hand around Ms. Helen’s throat. He raised her off the ground with one arm, dangling her feet in the air above the shell-covered path.

Jazzmyn took off and made for the shadows of the tombs. She could hear Ms. Helen gurgling for air behind her, and she fought back the tears as she ran in and out of the maze of pathways that meandered through the dense cemetery. She was trying to find her way in the moonlight, looking for tombs she knew, landmarks she recognized that would lead her back to the entrance. Suddenly, the fear from the nightmares that had besieged her since Julian had arrived began choking her. Jazzmyn was gasping for breath in a forest of stone and running for her life from a monster; she was alive inside her nightmare.

When Jazzmyn stumbled over the corner of a tomb hidden by the shadows, a giant hand seized her left shoulder from behind.

“You can’t outrun me, Jazzmyn,” Julian growled in an evil voice.

Her body was shaking violently with terror. “Please Julian. Don’t do this!”

She closed her eyes and prayed to the heavens above as his hands grabbed her waist and lifted her into the air like a small child. When she opened her eyes, she saw Julian’s horrible face, twisted with hatred. He placed his nose against her crotch and sniffed her.

Jazzmyn’s heart felt as if it were going to come charging out of her chest. She wanted to vomit as her stomach cramped with abject panic.

“She’s right,” he mumbled over her body. “I can smell the child in you.” His unholy eyes glanced up at her. “Is it mine?”

“I…I don’t know, Julian.”

His mouth curled into a cruel grin. “I loved you and you betrayed me.” 

“I did not set out to betray you. It just happened between Kyle and me.”

“What did he have that I didn’t?” he demanded, looming over her.

“My trust.”

Julian closed his eyes against the sting of her words. He carefully placed her back on the shell-covered path and let her go.

Julian’s hulking body towered over her in the moonlight. “This isn’t over,” he snarled at her. He grabbed the small satyr figurine from around her neck and yanked it free. “I’ll be back for the child and for you. I will never give you up, Jazzmyn.” He held the gold necklace before her face. “You are mine, body and soul,” he whispered.

Julian gazed upward to the moon above and then took off running into the darkness of the tombs surrounding them.

Jazzmyn stood shaking as she listened to the cemetery around her. After a few seconds ticked by, she heard the distant sound of the heavy iron front gates rattling. Not long after that, the revving of a loud car engine broke through the stillness of the graveyard. She bent over and gasped for breath, fighting back the rancid taste of vomit in her mouth. Suddenly, she remembered Ms. Helen.

Jazzmyn ran along the row after row of high, vaulted tombs, trying to make her way through the terrain of shadows and moonlight. When she came to the Livaudais family crypt, Jazzmyn eagerly searched the area for any sign of her dear friend.

“I’m here,” Ms. Helen called out as she emerged from the side of the tomb.

Jazzmyn ran up to her and threw her arms about her neck. “I thought he killed you.” Jazzmyn held on to Ms. Helen, and as she felt the realization of everything finally hit her, she began to cry.

Ms Helen held her and gently rocked her back and forth in her arms. “I’m all right, child. I’m all right. Shh.”

Jazzmyn stood back from her and wiped her hands beneath her eyes. “How did you get away?”

Ms. Helen patted Jazzmyn’s round cheek. “I used the best thing I know to repel a demon.”

“What spell or curse or juju is that?” she asked, almost laughing with relief.

Ms. Helen pulled a small canister from the front pocket of her white robe. “Mace. Works on demons and muggers, too.”

Jazzmyn surveyed the vast cemetery around them. “What do we do now?”

“We go home. You go back to your life and have your baby.”

Jazzmyn gave Ms. Helen a skeptical going over with her eyes. “Didn’t you make that up to save me?”

Ms. Helen shook her head. “That was no lie. You’re with child, Jazzmyn.”

“But how did you know? I mean, I can’t be pregnant yet. It’s too early for anyone to know that.”

Ms. Helen grinned. “The spirits knew. They told me you were pregnant when they circled ‘round your body the way they did. I just interpreted their message for you.”

Jazzmyn flashed back to her night with Julian and then her tryst with Kyle. A sickening feeling gripped her, and her eyes went to Ms. Helen. “Who’s the father?”

“All in good time.” She patted Jazzmyn’s hand and glimpsed the tomb next to them. “Best be pickin’ this stuff up and gettin’ you home.”

“But how do we get home? I came with Julian and….” Jazzmyn paused as a curious thought hit her. “How did you get in here? The front gates were locked when we arrived.”

Ms. Helen leaned her head back and let out a loud cackle. “Girl, don’t you remember? Mr. Reggie been the caretaker of this place for over twenty years. I got a key to the gate.”

Jazzmyn began to laugh, and as a rush of giddiness flowed through her veins, Ms. Helen tugged at her hand.

“You’ll be all right now,” she professed in a reassuring voice.

Jazzmyn’s laughter died and her countenance once again grew fearful. “But he’ll be back, won’t he?”

Ms. Helen slowly nodded her head. “Yeah, he’ll be back. It ain’t over yet, Jazzmyn.”

Epilogue

Jazzmyn stood on the wide balcony of the second floor of her old home, looking out at the bright green of spring filling the towering oak trees in the front garden. She smelled the vibrant energy in the air and closed her eyes to take in the myriad of birdsongs.

“Jazzmyn,” a man’s voice called behind her.

She turned to see Kyle coming toward her. He was dressed for a day at the restaurant in blue jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. In his arms he carefully carried a small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket decorated with small teddy bears.

As he stood before Jazzmyn, he worriedly inspected her dark green eyes. “You sleep all right last night? I thought I heard you get up.”

Jazzmyn took the pink bundle from his arms. “I got up to check on her.” 

“No more nightmares?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

Jazzmyn shook her head. “No more nightmares.”

Kyle nodded to the baby in her arms. “I think she’s hungry again.” Kyle nuzzled the baby’s pink cheek with his finger. “Didn’t you just feed her?”

“About two hours ago.” She repositioned the child in her arms and kissed the small pink nose protruding from beneath the blanket.

“Kid eats like a horse. Are they supposed to do that at three months?”

“She’s growing,” Jazzmyn insisted.

“She’s growing into a moose,” Kyle joked with a smirk. “When my mother comes to visit tomorrow, maybe we should ask if we are feeding her too much.”

“She’s got a healthy appetite. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Jazzmyn, a three-month-old baby that eats all the time and sleeps through the night is a little weird.”

“Dr. Marcus says she is developmentally right where she needs to be,” she argued.   

Kyle raised his hands in resignation. “I just remember my mother telling me what a pain in the ass I was as a baby. I would cry all the time and was fussy as hell about food.”

“If you ask me, you’re still fussy about food,” Jazzmyn chided.

He frowned at her. “That’s why I’m a chef, darling.”

“Well, maybe our daughter takes after me. My father always said I was the perfect baby.”

Kyle rubbed his hand along the child’s pink cheek. “She sure does look like you, except for the brown eyes.”

Jazzmyn gave him an encouraging smile. “My father had brown eyes.”

“I know.” Kyle kissed Jazzmyn on the cheek. “I’ll try and make it home for a little while after the lunch rush to give you a break.”

Jazzmyn’s heart skipped with happiness as she took in his bright blue eyes. “Thank you, Kyle…for everything.”

He lowered his eyes to the infant in her arms. “Just promise me that one day you will let me make an honest woman out of you, Jazz.”

Jazzmyn studied the strong curve of his jaw and recalled what Julian had threatened to do to him. “One day we’ll get married, but for now, I’m happy the way we are.”

“Well, my mother sure isn’t happy about our living together, so you better get ready. She’s going to give you an earful when she comes to visit.”

Jazzmyn nodded her head. “I’m ready.”

He gave her one last, loving smile and headed back to the open french door that led to the nursery.

Jazzmyn gazed down at the baby in her arms, and ran her hand over the tufts of thick, black, curly hair on her daughter’s small head.

“What are we going to do with you, Jaqueline?”

The little girl happily squirmed in her mother’s arms. Jazzmyn reached for a tiny hand flaying about in the air and kissed it. 

She heard the slam of the front door and watched as Kyle made his way down the bricked walkway to his old blue pickup. Before Kyle climbed into the truck, he turned and waved.

Jazzmyn lifted the baby in her arms and reached for her little hand, trying to make her wave good-bye.

“Wave bye-bye to Daddy,” Jazzmyn encouraged.

But the child loudly fussed and Jazzmyn placed her back against her chest. She hummed to her daughter and the baby instantly stilled and was content.   

“Just like your father,” she whispered.

Jazzmyn gazed out over the awakening world around her and her heart broke for the child in her arms. She did not know how long they had, but she knew one day her nightmares would come back to torture her. And when they did, Julian Devereau would return. 

“He’s coming, Jaqueline,” Jazzmyn softly said. “One day your father will come for you. But I will never let him have you.” She kissed her baby’s forehead. “I promise I will do everything I can to save you from his day of reckoning.”

The Satyr’s Curse II: The Reckoning is available now.

About the Author

Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans.  Having been brought up in the motion picture industry, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story moving and memorable. A permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.

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