Villere House (Blood of My Blood) (12 page)

The bathroom no longer felt safe. That had been the third time something weird had happened in the bathroom and she was beginning to think it was somehow tied to running water. Whatever it was, she was ready to get the hell away from it.

Unfortunately, the bedroom wasn't any safer. Standing with his back to her, staring at something in his hands, was Julien.

She froze. Unsure what to do. Afraid to make a noise. Should she run back into the bathroom? Lock herself in with whatever ghost hated her? Or did she bolt for the door? Escape to the courtyard.

She wasn't sure why Julien suddenly frightened her. It wasn't like he'd ever really done anything
to
her, but something felt off. The energy in the room was sinister. It shared the same unmistakable anger the second ghost had vehemently showered over her.

He turned. In his hands were Xavier's T-shirt and shorts.

"Ah, look who it is. The cutter." He held up the clothes. "I see my brother is taken with you."

"I spilled root beer—"

"Oh, I'm sure. A very convenient ruse." Still clutching the clothing, his hand flew to his forehead in a mocking
fainting
gesture. "Oh my!" he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. "I'm just soooo clumsy. Spilling this soda all over me." His hands traced feminine curves down his torso. "Whatever will I do?"

She stared at him. He was nuts. That's all there was to it.

Vile hatred suddenly washed over his face and he threw the clothes at her. Clutching her towel with one hand, she attempted to catch the clothing with the other. She managed to grab the T-shirt but the shorts fluttered to the floor.

Julien was suddenly inches from her, his eyes filled with so much anger, the whites were barely visible. She'd seen those eyes before. In the courtyard. On Sanite Villere.

"I won't let you take advantage of his generosity. I won't let you manipulate his good will."

She swallowed. She wanted to retort. She needed to punch him in the face, but she was frozen by his putrid energy.

"What the hell?" Xavier rushed over, placing his body slightly in front of her, like he was shielding her from Julien. "What are you doing here?" he asked his brother.

Julien stepped back, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. The anger was suddenly wiped clean from his handsome face. "I heard a scream. I came to investigate. How was I supposed to know you were using the Guest House to entertain
friends
…"

"Shouldn't you be knee-deep in your tour?"

Parking his ass on the bed, Julien shrugged. "Ended early."

She couldn't see Xavier's face, but the way he shook his head told her he thought Julien's answers sounds like a bunch of bullshit. She agreed.

He turned to her, concern straining his features. "Are you okay?"

His body blocked her from Julien's view. She shook her head.

Xavier immediately turned back to his brother. "Why don't you get out."

"Oh little brother, you're such a tease."

"I'm not kidding. Get the fuck out."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Julien rose. "See ya around," he said to her. It felt like a threat.

She didn't relax until she heard the hotel door open then shut. She let out a shuddering sigh.

"My God, Lottie, what happened?"

Acutely aware she wore only a towel and clutching the fabric close with one hand, she shook her head. "You won't believe me."

"Tell me anyway."

"I was taking a shower—obviously—and I started hearing voices. Well one voice, at first. Élise, I'm sure. And she was talking to me in French, begging me to do…something. Then another voice interjected, screamed at me really. And then the water suddenly got really hot. I'm sure someone just flushed a toilet in the house or something."

"The rooms are on a separate system than the house," he said quietly.

"In one of the other rooms?"

"Maybe…"

"I think there might be two ghosts. Élise and one that's trying to hurt me. God, what do you think?"

He frowned. Again. He frowned a lot.

"Oh right, you don't think there are ghosts at all."

He ran his hand over the back of his neck. "Lottie, I—"

"Just go in the other room so I can change. Please."

He pursed his lips like he was trying to keep words from escaping, nodded tersely, and slipped from the bedroom.

She waited for the click of the latch before releasing the towel. Even then she hustled to dress. Luckily, her panties had escaped the root beer soaking—she would have felt weird going commando in his shorts. Her bra wasn't so lucky. She was of medium bustiness, so enough to be noticeable, but not so much to be obscene.

It wasn't until she was fully clothed that she could think about things. She quickly decided she didn't want to think about it. It was all too much. And adding Xavier's reluctance to believe anything she said, in spite of his unwaveringly support, just poured salt into the gaping wound.

Speaking of…

The red line on her wrist stared at her angrily. Shit, the bandages were in the bathroom. With a grimace, she dashed into the room, yanked them off the vanity and dashed back out. Covering the cut let her pretend it wasn't there, which was exactly what she needed.

After taking enough deep breaths she might as well have been in a Yoga class, and attempting to dismiss every strange thing that had happened, she opened the bedroom door.  

Xavier was sitting on the arm of the rose bomb explosion couch and jumped up the moment the door opened. Jesus, what was she supposed to make of that? He was so anxious about her arrival he was sitting on the edge of the couch—literally—but yet he didn't believe a word of the biggest mystery of her life.

Talk about a mind fuck.

She couldn't worry about that now. She needed—wanted—his support. In reality, she'd take it anyway she could get it.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked. "Like a cocktail, not a root beer."

Normally, she'd hesitate drinking a cocktail just to relax. It only led down a bad path. Normally.

"Yes. Man...Yes." She let out a pent up breath. "That sounds amazing."

The pleasure on his face was almost sexual as he retrieved a growler and two pint classes from the end table. He must have brought them up with him. "You like beer, right?"

"I like whatever you're serving."

For the next thirty minutes, they sat on the balcony and shared the growler, talking about anything and
everything that didn’t include ghosts or séances or weirdness in general—which suited Lottie
just fine. They talked about school and their chosen degrees. She learned that while Xavier
was dismissive of his family legacy, he still wanted to preserve it, and had pursued a business
degree with a minor in hotel management in order to make sure the Villere household could
remain in its historical home.

He seemed particularly interested in her history and especially what life was like growing up in
foster care. Apparently after his dad left (not a Villere. Xavier assumed his mother’s name
when his dad abandoned them), he and Julien were nearly taken from the home by social
services—all because Julien had skipped so
much school the authorities were alerted. When they came to investigate, there was no
electricity or water in the house. By some stroke of luck, the social workers dropped the case
less than twenty-four hours after the notice was given. They never came back. Never followed
up. They pretty much disappeared.

She didn’t mind talking about foster care life. After all, she had every intention of talking
about it daily for the rest of her life. It hadn’t been an easy journey, but if she could help one
kid deal with their situation or even make it better, it would all be worth it.

The growler drained, relaxed from the alcohol, she felt content. The heat of the day had finally dissipated, and the night air was cool against her scalded skin. Sitting with Xavier felt natural, good.

She heard him sigh and at first thought they might be sharing a sentiment. But it wasn't a content sigh. "Shit, we have about ten minutes before the séance." He turned to her. "Are you ready for this?"

"Not at all."

"Good." He rose and offered his hand. She gladly took it and he pulled her to her feet. "That makes two of us."

CHAPTER TWELVE

L
ottie's hand was once again captured by Xavier's warm firm grip as he led her through the interior of the house and into a dark room closed off by large wooden French doors. The gesture was reassuring more than intimate, but she was grateful for his touch, no matter the intent.

Although they might have just been heavily draped, there were no visible windows in the room. But differentiating a window dressing from the yards of fabric adorning the walls would be an impossible task. All that cloth made the room feel closed in and somewhat creepy, which was probably the point. A curving mahogany staircase leading up to more darkness sat on the opposite wall.

The room may have once been used for dining, but she doubted anyone ate in it any more even though there
was
a round wooden table in the center of the room, and a buffet on the wall closest to her.

A woman in her early fifties—presumably Xavier's mother—with long, wild, curly black hair sat in the chair facing them. Her eyes were closed, hands outstretched palm up and resting on the table. Her lips moved silently.

Before her were a bowl of sand and three unlit pillar candles surrounding a tall, wooden structure. To Lottie's untrained eye, it looked like an animal head totem pole. A single dim light hung from an antique fixture directly above the table, a pair of shriveled up bird talons dangling from it. The room smelled strongly of herbs and earth.

Releasing her hand after giving it a final squeeze, Xavier pulled out a chair and pushed gently across her back, encouraging her to take a seat. He took the chair to her left.

She inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm her chattering heart. She wanted to be here. She wanted answers. But having no idea what to expect made her stomach flutter with anxiety.

Once they were seated, his mother opened her eyes—dark eyes like Xavier and…Laurent. Her smile revealed bright white teeth behind deep red lipstick. "Good evening. I'm Delia Villere. Charlotte correct?"

"Most people call me Lottie."

"Lottie…" Delia made a face. She must not like the nickname. "Hmm. Lottie…" She ran a finger through the sand. "Lottie…" She lit the three candles. "Tell me Lottie, do you see the head of the deer on the energy totem?" She gestured toward the sculpture at the center of the table. Lottie nodded. "The deer is your spirit animal, showing your compassion, gracefulness, femininity, and lust for adventure. She will guide you tonight and protect your spirit from harm." Closing her eyes, she began to chant low, guttural words.

After at least a minute of chanting, her eyes flicked open and focused on Xavier. "And you," she said. "The cougar is your spirit animal. He is one of great leadership, loyalty, courage, responsibility, and foresight. He will guide you and protect you from harm."

Lottie was pretty sure she saw Xavier roll his eyes.

Delia turned back to her. "My Xavier tells me you wish to channel the spirit of a dead relative."

"Yes, my—"

Delia held up her hand. "Don't tell me," she said, closing her eyes again. "It's a distant relative. One you were once close to but something happened. Something—"

"Jesus Christ, mom," Xavier interjected, the irritation evident in his voice. "Skip the dog and pony show. Élise Cantrelle. We want to contact the spirit of Élise Cantrelle."

The light above the table flickered.

Delia made another face and Lottie found herself following the older woman's lead. She gave Xavier a
look
.

One he definitely noticed. "Sorry," he mouthed. "Mom," he said with a much softer tone. "Doesn't it help to know who you're trying to contact?"

"Of course."

Xavier's brow scrunched together for a brief second, but didn't say anything. Until she started using the sand to draw a symbol on the table.

"No, mom. That won't work. This spirit is probably earthbound."

Delia stared at him. Lottie stared at him.

He held up his hands. "I mean, I assume.
She's
contacting you, right? In your dreams?"

Lottie nodded, still staring at him in shock. Didn't he say he didn't believe any of this?

"Élise is speaking to Lottie in her dreams," he explained to Delia. "Doesn't that mean she's earthbound?"

"It does. Without Papa Legba to open the gate, spirits inside Guinee cannot normally contact the outside world. Unless they are very strong…" Delia still seemed confused and shocked as she explained what Xavier already seemed to know.

Lottie could relate. She was officially, positively confused. And not just by Xavier's behavior.

"Well, that changes things." Delia moved the bowl of sand aside. "We will need to join hands."

Delia's small, cool hand was such a contrast to Xavier's. Lottie glanced at him and without turning his head, he caught her gaze from the corner of his eyes.

Ready,
he mouthed, his eyebrows bobbing once as he squeezed her hand.

She started to reply when Delia's instructions cut her short.

"Close your eyes," she said, a little sternness to her voice, like she knew they weren't paying attention. "We need to concentrate on the spirit. Concentrate on the memory of Élise Cantrelle."

The light flickered again. Okay, that was the second time it had done that. Lottie really wanted to watch to see if it happened again, but decided she should probably follow Delia's instructions if she hoped for this séance to be successful.

Reluctantly, she obeyed. Clamping her eyes shut, she tried to focus entirely on Élise. It wasn't so easy with Xavier's hand wrapped around hers but with effort, she managed to shut out all distractions, including him.

"We are trying to contact the spirit of Élise Cantrelle," Delia called in a powerful voice. "Mother, grandmother, lost spirit… Can you hear us?"

Nothing. The light may have surged again, but since her eyes were closed, Lottie couldn't be sure.

"Élise Cantrelle," Delia called again, louder, more powerfully.

The light definitely surged again, she was sure of it this time. The reds of her lids glowed from the quick flash of brightness.

"Will you respond to us? Your granddaughter of ten generations, Lottie, and Xavier Villere, descendant of great and powerful Voodoo mothers and fathers."

A low vibration buzzed through the room, mildly rocking the table back and forth.

"Use our energy, spirit of Élise Cantrelle. Focus on the desire of your blood to bring you to this place, to us."

The table began to rock so violently the totem came crashing down. Lottie let out a startled scream as she jumped back, releasing both Delia and Xavier's hands. She jerked her face left to see Xavier watching the fallen totem like he was hypnotized. Following his gaze, she gasped out loud when she saw the deer's eyes freakishly shifting from person to person and then finally locking with hers. She held its stare, unable to move. Frozen. Exactly how Xavier had been.

She knew her eyes were open, but also knew she was entering another time and place. Stripped of their fabric coverings, the walls seemed to drip away years of paint and wallpaper. Her peripheral vision suddenly ceased when the tunnel she entered whizzed by with images and smells.

A man hovered above her, his eyes filled with desire. Desire she could feel in her bones.

"Tu es trop belle."

She knew exactly what he said. "You are too beautiful."

His lips were so full, so luscious…And covered hers in the most amazing, delectable kiss she had ever felt, quickly becoming deeper, more passionate, with more purpose, more drive.

She didn't feel like herself. She wasn't herself. Her body no longer under her control. She only knew that she had an equal amount of passion and desire for this man. The emotions were too intense to ignore. She became lost in it...torn from one world to the next. It was impossible, yet utterly fulfilling at the same moment and she succumbed to it, disappearing into the glorious, all-encompassing sensation of his lips on hers.

Too soon, though, she heard a voice. A voice filled with hate and torment. While her body continued to burn with lust and want, the voice grew louder.

"You will never set her free. Jamais. JAMAIS!"

In an instant the loud, terrible woman's voice was gone. Its echo rang through her ears long after it had vanished, even as the memory swarmed her.

~

Élise glanced at the clock for the hundredth time. Laurent would be arriving any moment now. Nervousness knotted her stomach as she dashed around the room, inspecting Rosette
's handy work. Her finest china and silverware were displayed with precision. Prisms from the crystal wine goblets danced across the wall. Perfect.

She felt like she was forgetting something, though. Something important.

"Rosette!"

The maid peeked around the kitchen door. "
Yes, Madame?"

"
When, Monsieur Villere arrives, please escort him here. I will be back shortly."

Hitching the front of her dress, she climbed the stairs to the second floor bedrooms. Amélie was peacefully sleeping. Her transformation from one day to the next was nothing short of astounding. The danger had passed. She was going to live.

The relief Élise felt was overwhelming as she silently thanked the Holy Father. Laurent Villere did what no doctor was able to do, and her gratitude went beyond just dinner. She would have gladly paid him for his services. Money was precious but she would have surrendered any amount. That he was so kind to accept a mere dinner invitation said everything about his character.

She kissed her daughter
's cool cheek and pulled up the blanket, tucking it on both sides. She paused at the door, waiting for the rambunctious murmurings of two little boys. Stillness. They were already asleep in the adjacent bedroom. Taking a deep breath she smiled and strolled back down the staircase.

There was still something amiss, but she couldn't begin to identify it.

Rosette met her at the landing. "Monsieur Villere is here," she said in a hushed voice. A grin tugged at the corner of her full lips. "I will fetch the wine."

"Thank you."

Rosette disappeared into the kitchen and Élise did everything in her power to calm her nerves. Dinner. It was only dinner. With an amazing, beautiful man…

Clearing her throat, she crossed the sitting room. The fine chiffon of her crimson dress floated behind her as she walked, and she was very aware of the way it clung to her shape as she stepped into the dining room.

Laurent stood at the opposite wall, gazing thoughtfully at the painting of her family's Saumur estate hanging above the mantle. He was quite a sight to behold, his tall form commanding, his silk frock coat draped beautifully over broad shoulders that tapered to a perfectly trim waist. The soft light from the few candles topping the table illuminated his strong cheekbones, enhancing the raw masculinity of his face.

His dark eyes shifted to her and he took her in from head to toe before seeming to remember his manners and bowing. She would not deny she liked his obvious approval of her appearance.

"Good evening," he said.

She curtseyed, repeating the greeting.

He glanced around the room. "Will it only be the two of us for dinner?"

"Yes. I hope you do not mind the casual nature of my invitation."

"Not at all. I much prefer it."

The implications of their intimate dining situation were not unknown to her. And as his dark eyes lingered on her, she felt a blush burn her cheeks, as though she had already drank several glasses of wine.

Rosette darted in the room carrying the wine decanter and bowls of soup. Élise suffered a moment of guilt that Rosette was forced to balance so many items at once. If she had a proper serving staff it wouldn't be necessary. The servant handled it beautifully though, and with perfect grace she'd ladled the soup and poured the wine.

And suddenly Élise remembered what she was forgetting. Henry's dinner invitation. It was too late to decline, but perhaps, if the moment presented itself, she could have Rosette deliver a note of regret to Henry's estate. Lying might be a sin, but she would still use Amélie's health as an excuse.

She swallowed, pushing the lapse in bad manners behind her. "Shall we sit, Monsieur Villere?"

He moved to prepare her chair. "Given the casual nature of our evening," he said as she took her seat. "I would ask you call me Laurent."

She adjusted the napkin in her lap. "If that is what you wish, Laurent. I would request the same."

"I am more than happy to fulfill any of your desires," he said as he bowed his head. His eyes flick up to meet hers. "Élise."

The sound of her name as it slid from his mouth flashed goose bumps over her skin and sent heat to the deepest recesses of her body. She quickly turned her attention to the soup, lest her nerves overwhelm her.

This was the first time she had been in the presence of a man who stirred her with such desire. She had loved her late husband. He was a gentle man with a mostly kind hand. A fortunate mix when so many other marriage arrangements fell short of love or kindness.