The Accidental Kiss (The Kiss Book 1) (34 page)

“Yes, you can. Go before they change their minds.” Emily looked at the exit and I gave her the final push she needed. “Go!”

She broke out into a run, where Daemon, the twins, and Lucy were waiting for her. With trepidation, I watched the garage doors close, sending the plan into motion.

“Wonderful,” Magenta exclaimed. “Now the real fun can begin.”

You have no idea.

The faceless man returned and flanked Magenta on her right side. The two zombies and the mistress sounded like a bad joke waiting to happen. A nervous giggle broke free from my lips.

Magenta arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “You won’t be laughing when we are done with you, child.” Just like that, the giggles faded. She signaled for the zombies to go forth and they snatched my arms. “Be careful with her. Sky is a precious commodity.”

The zombies grinned as they hauled me off.

A sterile white hallway lead to a door marked with the numbers 201. The faceless man knocked timidly and a booming voice told us to enter. I braced myself for whoever was on the other side. Turning the doorknob, the zombies cast me to the beige carpet and left. Puffing my hair out of my eyes, I lifted my chin. Bookcases lined the walls with expansive windows offering a view of a greenhouse. Light poured into the room.

“Hello, Sky.”

My chin jerked to the side. A man dressed in simple white slacks and a button up t-shirt sat in an armchair, legs crossed. His features were unremarkable, yet I knew instantly it was the voodoo priest. I recognized his creole accent and a sinister vibe surrounded him like a hungry shark out for blood. Since I had never been face to face with my own grim reaper before, words failed me. He got out of the chair and walked over to where I was kneeling.

“Rise,” the voodoo priest ordered.

My hand inched its way into my coat pocket where the red potion was and I stood. “Hasn’t your momma ever taught you to use your manners?”

“No, and obviously your mama has never taught you to hold your tongue.” He sauntered to his massive wooden desk. “Take a seat.”

I eyed the chair warily. It appeared normal, however, I didn’t trust the voodoo priest as far as I could spit. “I’ll stand.”

“So be it.” He shifted a few papers around then leveled me with a stare that could send a grown man running. “How does it feel knowing you’re about to die?”

“How does it feel? Amazing.” I responded, sarcastically.

He smiled as if my answer pleased him. “It should. You’re finally living out your destiny. What you were meant to do.”

I had dreams about being a chef who traveled around the world with my own private jet. If that didn’t work out, then maybe a doctor. However, dying so a power hungry voodoo priest could regain control of a stupid religion wasn’t one of my ambitions. The red potion hummed with energy and I itched to throw it in his face. That would wipe the self-satisfied smirk away real quick.

“For the past eighty years, I have had time to think about how I would kill you,” he drawled. “Whether you should be dead or alive when the blood was taken out of your body. My favorite was alive but my aptitude for kindness waved me over to dead. The car accident was my olive branch.” Malice glittered in his eyes. “Of course as you know, it didn’t go as planned.”

My knees went weak as red dots burst in my sight. Melissa’s death meant nothing to him. She was an accidental fly in his trap. “Olive branch? You killed my best friend!”

“Yes, well accidents happen but look you got Daemon out of it. One of my best men, might I add. How is that going? Is his soul still hanging on?”

The little thread of sanity I had snapped. My body lunged foreword with the intention of strangling the living daylights out of him. Ridding the voodoo priest of his inky black soul wasn’t enough. He deserved to kiss the chasm between life and death. Halfway over the desk, a pair of hands clamped around my arms and yanked me backwards. My feet kicked out as I screamed a colorful array of profanity.

“Get her prepared for the sacrifice.” The voodoo priest directed.

Once again, I was dragged out of the room down the hallway and to another set of doors, where a woman was waiting for me. She had an ethereal glow about her but the blank gaze showed the cruel deck of cards life handed to her.

“Please strip,” she said in greeting.

“Excuse me?”

“Strip.”

This was a twist I hadn’t seen coming. Where the hell was Daemon? He was supposed to infiltrate the warehouse and act as a buffer while Lucy tried to find the jar of souls. The twins were sent home with Emily. Six people seemed like one too many, so we had whittled it down to three. Hopefully that wasn’t a mistake. The woman gestured impatiently for me to undress.

“Can you at least turn around?” I asked. Not because I was shy but because I didn’t want her to see me slipping the red potion into my bra.

Spinning around on her heels, I tucked my salvation into its hiding place. The vial felt cool against my skin. Shedding the rest of my clothes, I stood clad in only my bra and panties. “Ok.”

The woman grabbed a white dress off a hanger and tugged it over my head. She smoothed the silk against my body. “You are ready.”

I looked at myself in a mirror across the room and nearly gasped. I was a walking Virgin Mary. The white dress hung loosely around my curves while the color washed out my complexion. Then again, it wasn’t like my sacrifice was a fashion show but still, you couldn’t blame a girl for wanting to look pretty in her last moments.

A man entered. “Come.”

The voodoo priest’s zombies were men of few words. I was happy Daemon had escaped this existence even if it did come with a price. I followed the man toward an open entryway. Mist swirled around my feet as we approached. Where was the man taking me? I stepped into a space that was like an overrun jungle. Humidity hung in the air. It dawned on me we were in the greenhouse I had seen from the voodoo priest’s office. A well-worn path snaked its way deeper into the foliage until it gave way to an open area. People dressed in fancy attire milled about, sipping on glasses of champagne. A stage equipped with a long pole in the middle stood up front. Bile rose in my throat. The white dress, the party-like atmosphere, and the pole all equaled one thing. Everybody was here to witness the blood pour out of my body and subsequently celebrate my demise, as Santeria was reborn.

My feet stumbled as my brain screamed to not take another step farther. However, I had to trust Daemon and Lucy would get me out of here in one piece and focus on the goal at hand: ridding the voodoo priest of his magic.

The man saw my hesitation. “Don’t delay.”

Shoving me into the clearing, a hush fell over the crowd. The people looked at me as if I was a living curiosity ripe for their entertainment. This world was a lot sicker than I thought. The man dug his finger in my back as he led me to the front. Eyes bore into my soul, stripping me bare. I mounted steps to the stage where the wooden pole was waiting for me. The man yanked me by the arm and threw me in its direction. He secured my wrists to the pole with rope and tugged until he felt as if I was securely fastened. Then he moved to my feet. As I gazed out at the crowd, I wanted to scream. Who were these people? Did they have a sick fascination with death? Religious zealots? How could they drink their fancy champagne while a girl was being tied to a pole? My head throbbed. The man double-checked the knots and the rope cut into my skin. Satisfied, he moved off the stage and left me alone with my never-ending thoughts and worries. I hoped Daemon and Lucy were all right. The warehouse didn’t appear to be swarming with protection but it was a confusing map of hallways. There was also the problem of Daemon’s soul having a ticking clock on it. A young woman approached the stage and looked up at me with interest. She sipped on her fruity cocktail as she assessed my position. I bared my teeth and growled like the animal she expected me to be. Clutching her pearls, she let out a gasp and faded back into the crowd. These people didn’t see me as human; they saw me as a vessel that would lead to their goal. I couldn’t wait until this celebration went up in flames. From the corner of my eye, the voodoo priest was making his rounds. Talking to the audience, kissing babies, and shaking hands. He looked like a modern day politician and not a crazed voodoo priest. With a few precious moments before he came up on the stage, I began to rub the rope against the pole in hopes of loosening my binds. Heat built against my wrist, creating a serious case of rug burn. Fighting against the pain, I rubbed faster. Every time the voodoo priest inched closer, another person stopped him, eager to touch the man who would bring back Santeria and restore order to this world. The voodoo priest’s fans were the definition of having a screw loose. Then again, a sane person wouldn’t go to a party with the highlight of the evening being a human sacrifice. Eventually, the voodoo priest ran out of hands to shake and entered stage left.

A thousand watt smile stretched across his face. “Hello, everybody.” Murmurs swelled through the crowd as they raised their drinks in greeting. “It so nice to see all your faces this evening and what a joyous evening it is. Am I right?”

Joyous evening for whom? Certainly not for me.

The crowd ate up his sugarcoated address and roared their allegiance to him. The binds around my wrist slackened half an inch.

The voodoo priest clasped his hands behind his waist while he paced. “This night wouldn’t have been made possible without Sky. While I’m the leader, she is the key. Correction, her blood is the key.” A few chuckles broke from the audience. “So let’s give a hearty thank you to her and the sacrifice she is about to make.”

They could shove their empty praise where the sun didn’t shine. I gave them my best death glare and continued my attempt to escape.

The voodoo priest strolled to the pole. Leaning in, I could smell his putrid cologne. His voice dropped to a low whisper. “You’d better slap a smile on that pretty mouth of yours or else the blade won’t be kind to you.”

I saw through his fake threats straight to his cruel heart. Image was everything to the voodoo priest. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. I hocked a wad of spit in his eyes.

He reeled back, cursing. “You little bitch.”

An audible gasp was heard from the audience. Anger made the voodoo priest momentarily forget where he was but he soon righted himself.

He faced the crowd and laughed. “Sky is a feisty one, but she knows how important this day is to all of us. The day we can finally bring back the religion that was cruelly cast aside over the years past and see it come to fruition. Can I get an amen?”