Villere House (Blood of My Blood) (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

F
rom the kitchen window, Xavier stared in disbelief at Lottie dashing through the courtyard. Hair soaking wet and dripping, wearing a barely there tank top and flimsy shorts, and running like her life depending on it.

The butter knife he was washing fell into the sink with a clank. "What the hell?"

He half expected to see Julien chasing after her. Not that he'd seen that slimy bastard—and he'd looked—since they returned. Or even some fucked up apparition of his long deceased aunt. But there was nothing. Only Lottie.

Forgetting the half-made sandwiches on the counter and barely taking time to turn off the faucet, he sprinted through the house, the shop, and out the front door just in time to glimpse her disappearing around the corner.

He took off after her. Man, she was booking it and he had to push his legs to keep up with her, let alone try to catch her. He'd barely narrowed the distance between them when she reached Rampart. He hoped the traffic on the busy street would slow her down, but she just kept running. He wasn't even sure she looked.

"Fuck!"

Whatever mission she was on, she was
on
it. At least he had a pretty good idea where she was headed.

Ducking around cars and ignoring the blaring horns, he continued after her. Just as he expected, she went directly for the locked gate to St. Louis Cemetery Number One.

For a brief second he thought he might be able to catch her as she climbed, but she scaled the gate like a champ. She didn't even climb down the other side. She jumped.

Holy. Shit. When that girl wanted something…

But he knew that all too well.

He climbed over the gate with ease but that's where the
easy
part stopped. She was nowhere in sight, he had no idea where she might be going, and the cemetery was a confusing jumble of crumbling tombs. He called her name and as he expected, didn't get a response.

Well, good thing he liked to run, because it looked like he was going to be doing a lot of it.

~

Lottie was able to run directly to Élise's grave. Without hesitation. Without thinking. Like she'd been visiting it daily for her entire life.

That all changed when she reached it. She'd been so driven to get there, she hadn't thought about what she was going to do. But now that she stood feet from the tomb, she couldn't act. The knife hung uselessly in her hand.

She knew what she needed to do, knew there was no other way.

Until the blood of your blood is spilled upon your grave.

She was the last of Élise's blood. The lone survivor of centuries of untimely deaths and horrible
accidents
. And she knew what "spilled blood" meant.

Thing was, she wasn't suicidal. Not even remotely. And the prospect of slitting her own wrist made her heart buck and her stomach knot. She'd hoped it would be easy, that she would arrive at the grave and the same thing that happened nights ago would happen again. Possession, wrist slit, end of story. But there was nothing. Not even that familiar tug urging her forward.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked the grave. "Why won't you help me?"

Only unnatural silence greeted her. No sounds of cars whizzing by on the busy street at the front of the cemetery walls, no birds, not even the flutter of wind.

"Please! Help me!"

More silence. Surely Sanite was interfering. Preventing Élise from helping her…

Why couldn't she do this? If she didn't spill her blood on Élise's grave, then what? Élise remained trapped, tortured to walk this earth, separated from her children, from Laurent, unable to find peace? And what would happen to her? Sanite Villere would stop at nothing to keep punishing Élise. Wouldn't Lottie suffer the same fate as her parents, and so many others before her? Doomed to die some unnatural way…

She tried to think of the good that would come of her death. She could see her parents. She could know Élise and Laurent, see their love. She could be with Amélie, Jean Michel, Matthieu. She'd never be alone again.

But what about Xavier?

She pushed him from her mind. There was no time for that. She needed to act. Now.

Ripping the bandages from her wrist, she tossed them aside. Her hand shook violently when she lifted the knife and pressed it to the raw marks. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her mind, her body. She could do this. She would do this.

She heard a crack and felt something fall to the ground. Blade still pressed to her wrist, she glanced down. The evil eye lay broken at her feet. Shattered in two, it simply dropped from her necklace.

"What the—"

"Here. Let me help with that." The knife was suddenly yanked from her hands. Strong arms wrapped around her chest and drug her back away from the grave.

She screamed. She recognized that voice.

The blade found its way to her neck. "If you really want to die, I'm more than happy to help," Julien murmured into her ear. "But I can't let you free my prisoner. Élise is mine. For eternity."

Pain seared through her as the blade slid across her neck.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

X
avier felt like he was running in circles and gaining nothing but a shirt saturated with sweat. He'd run every aisle, checked every corner, and still no Lottie. The cemetery wasn't even that fucking big!

And then he heard her scream.

Shit, she was less than fifty feet away.

Scrambling through two narrow tombs and over one that had been reduced to a pile of bricks, he emerged on a walkway and into a scene out of a horror movie. Julien had Lottie restrained, gripping her tightly across the chest, and what looked like a knife pressed to her throat.

Closing the distance between them with superhuman speed, he yanked his brother back and flung him to the ground. The knife went flying and Lottie fell to the ground clutching her neck. Where he could see blood, lots of blood, seeping through her fingers and onto the ground.

Blood that immediately blurred his vision and fueled his fists. He could see nothing but hatred when he looked at his brother attempting to regain his feet. Lifting him off the ground using his hair as a handle, Xavier twisted him around and clocked him twice in the face, splitting his lip and probably breaking his nose.

If it hadn't been for Lottie bleeding behind him, he probably would have kept pounding his brother's face until it was no longer recognizable. Luckily for Julien, his eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp. Xavier dropped him like a rag doll and rushed to her.

Still clutching her neck, she was searching for something. Desperately, from her body language. Staring at the ground like she'd lost a contact, she kicked at the crushed shell and dirt paths, flicking back and forth like a penned coyote.

"Lottie…Lottie." He grabbed her elbow. "Lottie!"

Her eyes were wild when she looked at him. "I have to find it."

"What?"

"The knife! I need it!" Tears glistened her eyes. "I need it." And then she began to cry.

He pulled her into his arms where she sobbed into his chest. "Oh God, please. Please Lottie, don't do this to me." He hugged her tightly for a moment before taking her shoulder he moved her back. Her entire body trembled and she looked at him with fear and desperation in her eyes. "Please, talk to me. Tell me what's going on. But first let me see your neck."

"I know what Élise has been trying to tell me," she said through tears. "She's cursed, Xavier. Sanite Villere cursed her. And my family. She blames Élise for Laurent's death. Sanite found him in the street, after…" She swallowed a sob. "She was furious with Élise. Cursing and threatening to kill her, she chased her to the river. Where…she drowned. Élise hit her head and drowned. I think that's why the weird things keep happening in the bathroom. It has to do with the water. Like it gave her power or something."

As she spoke, he gently peeled her fingers away and took inventory of the gash on her neck. It was bleeding like a bitch, but not that big and nowhere near her jugular—thank God. She'd definitely need stitches though. He replaced her hand with his, applying gentle pressure to the wound.

"And until the blood of her blood is spilled on her grave, she'll never know peace. She's trapped here. Trapped here until…" In a flash, the fear and desperation were replaced with determination. "That's why I need the knife."

He felt his eyes narrow. "For what?"

She pressed her lips together. "I'm the last of the blood. Blood of her blood must be spilled…"

"Oh, no. I don't think so. If you're thinking what I think you're thinking—no. Hell no. Fuck no."

"It's the only way."

"Killing yourself?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. But it didn't matter if he believed it or not, he wasn't letting it happen.

"I have to. Believe me I don't want to, but I can't leave her trapped. Away from her family, from Laurent. If I do it, the curse is broken. Not just for Élise, but for me, my family, my descendents."

"You won't have any fucking descendents if you kill yourself," he said bitterly. "Besides, how do you know it'll even work?"

She held out her left hand, wrist upturned. The jagged pink marks from her earlier run-in with a nail file stood out brightly against her light skin. "That's what Élise was trying to tell me the first time I was here. I didn't listen. So she had to tell me her story so I would."

"I…" He frowned. "Let's think about this for a moment, okay?" He tossed a quick glance in Julien's direction to make sure the bastard was still knocked out. He was. "Tell me exactly what Sanite said when she cursed Élise?"

She swallowed, the movement of her throat working against his hand. A hand that was wet with her blood. He really needed to get her to a doctor.

"Even in death you will have no rest. Your kin will know no peace. As you have ruined my family so shall yours. You will walk this earth until the blood of your blood is spilled upon your grave," she repeated the words like it was the Pledge of Allegiance. Like she'd done it a hundred times. He imagined in her mind she had.

"Why do you think that means you need to kill yourself?"

She gave him a hard look. "I think we all know what spilling blood means."

If the situation wasn't so serious, her
you idiot
tone would have made him smile.

"Well growing up with the women in my family I know a little something about curses. They're rarely figurative."

"What else can spilling blood mean?"

"I have an idea. Which one is Élise's grave?"

She pointed to one of the tombs.

The wind began to pick up and Xavier had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't because there was a cold front moving in.

"I think we'd better hurry," he said. Reluctantly removing his own hand, he took her hand and placed it over the still bleeding wound. He should have torn off a piece of his shirt. There was blood everywhere. Too late now.

"Put pressure on this," he told her as the wind kicked up a notch, whistling through the tombs and tossing Lottie's hair around wildly.

Once he was satisfied she'd protected her neck enough, he took her free hand and they ran for the grave in half-crouched positions. The wind now whipped violently through the cemetery, sending dust and dirt and trash flying past.

Yanking open the gate to the short, spiked wrought iron fence protecting the tomb, he pulled her in and guided her to the narrow spot between the side of the concrete wall and the fence edge safely out of the wind. Squatting, she backed up as he squeezed in beside her.

The wind was so loud it screeched. Ripping the sleeve from his Tee, he placed it over the still bleeding cut. He really should have done it right away. But at least there was enough blood for his plan. "Hold this."

"What are you thinking?" she shouted.

He took her hand, the one covered in her own blood, and placed it on the tomb. "I think your spilled blood is just that. Your blood…spilled on Élise's grave…like merely touching it."

She stared at him like he was crazy but sure enough, the moment the red of her blood stained the white concrete, light exploded around them. So bright, he had to turn away. He pulled her into his chest, hopefully shielding her from whatever came next.

Unless he physically plugged her ears, there was little more he could do. He hated feeling so helpless.

He glanced down to make sure she was okay. She stared upward, toward the night sky, her eyes filled with wonder and a conflicted mixture of tears, happiness, and trepidation.

Following her gaze he saw what had her so emotional. Floating just above the top of the tomb was the shimmering image of Élise's ghost. Bathed in the bright white light, she looked every bit like he remembered. Her hair, long and curly and blond—just like Lottie's—twisted around her face like smoke. Her gauzy white gown, nearly as transparent as she was, billowed like wafts of cloud.

He also saw the source of trepidation. Swirling around Élise with tornadic fury, was an inky blackness. It twisted and coiled like an angry snake, trapping Élise within its—or he should say her—vortex.

"Good to know the women in my family don't hold grudges," he muttered.

Lottie's now frightened eyes turned to him. "Now what do we do? She's trapped."

It came to him in an instant, the repressed teachings of years of Voodoo lore.

"I have another idea!" At this point he had to scream to be heard. His fingers still damp with her blood he began to draw on the tomb wall. Even though he'd rarely paid attention to Grandmere's lectures, the design was so firmly etched in his subconscious, it just flowed from his fingers.

He hoped like hell it worked.

~

At first Lottie had no idea what to expect when Xavier began drawing an elaborate symbol from her blood on the side of Élise's grave. It was similar to the one engraved on her necklace, with swooping scrolls and crosses and star-like symbols, so she knew it was probably some spirit's vévé. But she had no idea whose it might be, or what to expect after it was drawn.

The moment he finished, he chanted, "
Odu Legba, Papa Legba, open the door, your children are waiting. Papa Legba, open the door, your children await."

She stared at him in awe as he repeated the chant.
The knowledge he possessed, knowledge he'd probably denied for years, was astounding. And his instinct to apply that knowledge…he was every bit Laurent's grandson. He just had to believe.

It seemed impossible, but both the screeching and wind increased until her ears rang and she had to clutch the fence to avoid being swept away. One arm firmly wrapped around her, one grasping the fence post next to her, Xavier yelled out the chant once again. This time with more urgency and a sense of forcefulness to his words.

The moment the last "your children await" was uttered, the world began to shake. Loose bricks from deteriorated tombs clattered to the ground. The fence creaked and groaned as hundreds of years of rust resisted the jostling. All around the chaos intensified. Between the wind and the screeching and the trembling earth…it was too much. If it hadn't been for Xavier's strong embrace, she wasn't sure she'd be able to hold it together.

Especially when a huge, vacant-eyed skull rose from the ground. In spite of everything she'd seen to date, she felt her eyes widen. She shrank back into Xavier's grasp.

The wind immediately dropped as the inky black tornado recoiled, the screeching reduced to a whimper.

"What is it?" she asked Xavier.

"Papa Legba…I assume. That's who I summoned anyway. He's the gatekeeper between the spirit world and ours."

While she definitely cared, she was actually happier to see that the skull—Papa Legba—was effectively shielding the beautiful, shimmering ghost of Élise from the inky, hovering darkness. It still churned angrily, but off to the side, away from Élise. She had no doubt if Xavier's body wasn't draped over hers, its anger would be focused on her.

Slowly, the skull opened its mouth and a blinding light shot out, turning midnight into noon. She was forced to turn away for a minute until her eyes adjusted.

Xavier nudged her. "Lottie, you need to see this."

Squinting, she turned toward the light. The mouth of the skull was stretched abnormally wide, like the unhinged jaw of a snake. The light, beautiful and serene at the same time, poured from the gaping maw. When her eyes adjusted, she gasped.

"Oh! Xavier!" Standing in the light was Laurent, flanked by what could only be Amélie, Jean-Michel, Matthieu, and Nathanael.

With a smile as big as hers must be, Élise walked through the air toward them. Just before stepping into the waiting arms of Laurent and her family, she turned toward them.

"Merci, mon enfant," she said, her voice distant, like it originated somewhere far away, yet perfectly clear. She looked toward a couple that Lottie hadn't noticed before.

Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh God!" Xavier's embrace immediately tightened. "My parents," she murmured. Standing off to the side, her father waved and her mother blew her a kiss. She barely had a chance to wave back before Élise stepped in the skull and its mouth began to close.

And like that, it was over.

The inkiness that was Sanite Villere howled one final time in what sounded like frustrated anguish, and then dissipated in a rush of ice-cold air. The skull slowly sank back into the earth and the cemetery returned to quiet darkness, the faint sound of traffic buzzing in the distance.

There was nothing left to hold her together. Her organs, muscles, and bones all seemed to blend together into liquefied mush, and if it weren't for the weak shell of her skin and Xavier's strong embrace, she would have melted into a puddle right there.

She was pretty sure there were tears on her face, and she was pretty sure she was still bleeding, but she couldn't feel any of it. All she could feel was Xavier and she was so grateful for him. If only her mouth worked…

Happy, relieved, a little sad, bewildered—all emotions swirled inside her. She didn't know how to begin to process them. It had been such a chaotic ride to this point and now that it was over, she was left a jumbled mess, a shell of someone she barely remembered. Someone who existed before her parents died.