Hoodoo You Want Page 8

  I blinked. Okay, this seemed all good. Maybe I wouldn’t even have to talk to Baba Yaga. Maybe I could go directly to the prince, figure out who was following me, call them off and just move on.

  “Now, I would like to ask Malachite Jourdain to join us.” Baba Yaga looked directly at me. So did the prince.

  Oh crap. I remained frozen, pinned by their gazes.

  Beside me, my mother moved closer, putting an arm around my back. “It will be okay,” she whispered encouragingly.

  I still didn’t move. JR moved to the other side of me. “Go ahead, Mally-Cat.” They both pushed me forward, walking with me toward the curved staircase.

  Oh, dear Goddess, why did I feel like my own parents were leading me to my execution? Maybe they were. A burning at the stake. Although I was pretty sure witches hadn’t done that to their own.

  They stopped at the bottom steps. I gaped frantically between them. They both appeared to be bursting with pride. What the holy heck was going on? I looked back to Baba Yaga.

  Suddenly, I realized there was no getting out of what was about to happen. Baba Yaga didn’t play. If she wanted me on the balcony, I was going to be on that balcony. Still dizzy, I managed to climb the steps, my stomach sinking with each step.

  In my purse, Jocko cheerfully gargled some of his booze water. What I wouldn’t give to drown in a tub of Gooseberry Moon Punch right about now.

  Somehow, I reached the balcony and followed our leader’s direction to stand beside her. She smiled at me warmly. That had to be a good sign, right? I glanced at the prince. He regarded me with intense, hazel eyes. I swallowed. What if I was some sort of rougarou sacrifice? Maybe I should mention that I wasn’t a virgin. Just in case that was a requirement for sacrifice.

  Baba Yaga addressed the crowd again. “Prince Dubois and I discussed many options to help repair the divide between our communities. We finally agreed to use the same means that royalty has used for centuries. An alliance between our two worlds.”

  I frowned, not following.

  “Prince Dubois has asked to marry one of our witches.”

  I gaped at the prince. Oh no, this could not mean what I thought it did?

  In my purse, Jocko began to sing Billy Idol’s White Wedding. I fought the urge to toss him over the balcony.

  The room filled with more gasps and stunned whispers as Prince Perfection rougarou stepped in front of me. He bowed at me, and then knelt down on one knee.

  Okay, this was not happening.

  “Malachite Starshine—” Yes, my mother must have been high as a kite when she named me. “Jourdain, will you honor me and my whole rougarou pack by becoming my wife.”

  I stared at him.

  “Tabarnak,” Jocko said from purse.

  Oh yeah. Tabarnak, a thousand times over.

  My dazed gape left the kneeling prince to look at Baba Yaga. “Umm, do I have a choice?”

  She and her minions shook their heads.

  “I didn’t think so.” My eyes moved back to the waiting prince. He held out an open velvet box. Inside was a large, shiny malachite ring surrounded by sparkling diamonds and emeralds.

  “Malachite for your name,” he said in his deep, rich, accented voice. “Emeralds for protection, love and wisdom. And diamonds for loyalty and eternal strength in our bond.”

  I studied his gorgeous face. As far as ambush proposals went, this was a pretty darned good one.

  I glanced out at my family, who all stood together now. Again, I saw pride shining in my parents’ eyes. Ghede and Sam watched, slack jawed. And my sisters actually smiled a little dreamily, clearly caught up in the romance of the whole situation.

  I supposed it was oddly romantic. Being the one chosen to help bring together two magical groups that had been enemies for centuries. And by marrying a prince, no less.

  “Oh, what the heck. Sure.” I held out my hand.

  He smiled slightly and took the ring out of the box to slip it on my finger. It fit perfectly. Behind him, Baba Yaga released a sigh of relief. I noticed the prince’s two men didn’t look as pleased.

  Below us, my family clapped and slowly the rest of the crowd joined in. Prince Perfection rose and stood beside me, looking out at the sea of witches and warlocks.

  “Okay, let’s get you two married before anyone changes their minds,” Baba Yaga said. She placed hands on both of our backs and herded us toward the balloon arch. “Face each other and hold hands.”

  We did as she said. Again, I was struck by how large my soon-to-be-husband was, his hands dwarfing mine. If I was marrying a lunatic rougarou, I was in big trouble.

  Baba Yaga positioned herself in front of us. “Who here gives this woman to be wed?”

  “We do,” my parents said loud and clear. Only then did it dawn on me that my parents knew about this already. It would have been really nice to have a heads up. But I supposed they figured I’d make a run for it. They were right.

  “Please join hands,” our leader said.

  Prince Perfection took both my hands, which was probably good. I was getting dizzy again.

  Baba Yaga raised a hand over her head.

  “Marriage is binding and blessed.

  It is the joining of two.

  But these vows are more sacred,

  Because they are the first between a witch and a rougarou.”

  She waved her hand, and a swirling purple ball appeared over our heads, then it popped and a cascade of purple and silver sparkles fell down over us.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She waved like a gameshow host for us to go back to the edge of the balcony. We did, my rougarou’s hand still tightly holding on of mine.

  My rougarou. I was married. It was freaking married. The woozy feeling rushed over me like Gooseberry Moon Punch dumped on my head.

  Baba Yaga smiled broadly as she joined us. Her smile blurred and distorted as my vision tunneled in from the sides.

  “I now introduce Prince Etienne Henri Dubois and Princess Malachite Starshine Dubois. You may kiss...”

  I never heard the rest of our introduction, because I lurched one last time and passed out cold.

  Chapter Eight

  My eyes popped open. Okay, I just had the wackiest dream ever. Like bonkers crazy. I married the prince of the rougarous. How was that for nutty?

  I lied there for a moment, trying to get my bearings. But slowly, my surroundings penetrated my hazy thoughts. It wasn’t my dream making me feel so out of sorts. It was that I was not in my bedroom. Or my house for that matter. I was in a large, four poster bed. In a very unfamiliar room.

  Slowly, I sat up, surveying my surroundings. An ornate, antique, writing desk and chair sat in a windowed alcove, indicating that the room had a turret. Cream wallpaper with large pink roses covered the walls. And there was not a single sign of my mixed and matched Goodwill furniture.

  I pushed back what looked like a handmade quilt to see I still wore my dress from the ball. I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them quickly, hoping that I was still somehow in my kooky dream. But nothing changed, and I realized my kooky dream was actually my kooky reality. I was still in a room straight out of one of those gorgeous, old home magazines. And I had married the prince of the rougarous. For real.

  I rose from bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. The wide plank, wood floor creaked under my weight and I froze, listening. The house was quiet. I spotted my beat up, hard side suitcase with stickers all over it placed on top of a cream-colored dresser that was painted with roses to match the wallpaper.

  Tiptoeing, I crossed the room to open the case. Inside were some of my clothes, neatly folded. Then I spotted Jocko’s aquarium on a side table in the corner of the room. Was he in there? Or had he drunk himself to death in my purse? Wherever that was.

  I peeked into the aquarium and found him sprawled on his back on a plastic leaf, claws flopped over the sides. He snored loudly, mouth wide open. Maybe he could tell me where I was and how I got here. But I had a feeling he pr
obably wouldn’t remember much more than I did about the end of the ball.

  The ball. I held up my left hand. The malachite, diamond and emerald ring sparkled on my finger. None of the night had been a dream, and this had to be Mr. Perfection’s home. Scratch that—Prince Perfection. I glanced around. His style was decidedly more feminine than I would have guessed.

  I jumped as someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” I said, my voice raspy as if I’d been unconscious for a while.

  The door cracked, and Prince Perfection poked his head inside. “You’re awake.”

  “It would appear so.”

  He nodded as if he didn’t know how to respond.

  “Come on in,” I waved to him. “I’m assuming this is your house, after all.”

  He nodded again and stepped inside. His tall, muscular body seemed to eat up the space in the room. He was no longer in his tailored, black suit. Now, he wore a pair of joggers and a T-shirt that clung to his muscles. His feet were bare. And he looked even hotter than he had in the suit. He glanced around the room as if it was as foreign to him as it was me.

  “Let me guess, this isn’t your room.” I meant the comment to be funny. You know, given all the pink and roses. I hoped it would lessen some of the awkwardness between us. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

  He glanced around again. A muscle in his jaw ticked as if he was clenching his teeth. Then he said quietly, “I haven’t been in here...for a long time.”

  A part of me wanted to ask why, but another part wasn’t sure I wanted to know. So, I gestured to my suitcase. “Thanks for packing up some of my stuff. I assume it was you, since I was sort of out of commission there for a while.”

  “It was actually Jimmy. He helps me out around here. The rest will be delivered tomorrow.”

  Wow, so I was officially moving in. That was fast. But I only nodded, not sure what to say. My stomach chose that moment to speak for me. A loud rumble filled the space between us.

  “Pardon me,” Jocko grumbled from his aquarium, followed by a loud snore.

  Prince Perfection tried to suppress a smile, but he failed and gave into an actual laugh. The sound was as delicious and deep as his voice.

  “It sounds as if you could use something to eat.”

  I could feel my face burning. I wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing, my gurgling belly or my drunken crawfish. But I guess Prince Perfection better get used to both, now that we were married.

  Married. I didn’t know how I was going to get used to that concept.

  “I am a little hungry,” I admitted. I could hardly deny it since my stomach already outed me. Plus, he’d discover I was a bottomless pit soon enough.

  “Why don’t you get changed and meet me down in the kitchen? I’ll make us something.”

  A prince who cooked. I could have married worse.

  I nodded. “That sounds good.”

  He bowed slightly and headed to the door.

  “Wait,” I called just as he would have closed it. He paused to look back at me. “Where is the kitchen?”

  “At the bottom of the stairs, just make a left and follow the hallway to the back of the house.”

  Okay, that sounded simple enough.

  He left, leaving me alone with Jocko. I pulled some shorts and a T-shirt out of my suitcase. I wasn’t sure how I was expected to dress as a princess. But I was following the prince’s lead. Casual and comfy, it was.

  I checked Jocko, who had slipped down on his leaf. I nudged him back up and was thanked by a few choice curse words. I smiled fondly at him. Now I understood why he was called a familiar. At least I had one thing here that I knew.

  My stomach growled again. Okay, I couldn’t put this off any longer. Time to go downstairs and try to get to know my husband. Husband. I made a face just thinking that word. My life was so weird.

  Finding the kitchen wasn’t quite as straightforward as Prince Perfection had made it sound. This place was enormous. First, I went the wrong way, getting lost in a maze of doors. Wall sconces illuminated my path in eerie circles of light down the dim hallway. Painted portraits of, who I assumed were ancestors, hung on the walls, their eyes following me as I tried to figure out where I was going.

  “You could stop staring and help me here,” I said to one particular dour-looking fellow. Then I glanced back at him. “On second thought, please don’t.”

  Finally, I located the stairs, a carved oak number with bronze statues of women in draped gowns holding glowing torches over their heads. Oh yeah, this place totally had a serious haunted house vibe.

  I did dig my goth pixie aesthetic, but I wasn’t sure I found being thrown into the plot of a gothic novel quite as appealing. A single woman brought to a giant house in the middle of nowhere with a man she barely knew. Yep, that was pretty much the setup of every gothic book ever. I wasn’t sold on this situation so far.

  I didn’t even know exactly where I was, and I assumed my cell phone was still with Violet. My wallet, too. That didn’t help my peace of mind.

  Fortunately, following the hallway to the kitchen was much easier. I walked in to find Prince Perfection cutting a thick sandwich and adding it to an already heaping platter.

  “I wasn’t sure what kind you like, so I made turkey and swiss, ham and cheddar, and PB and J.” He smiled sheepishly.

  A gorgeous man who made sandwiches, had the best shy smile, and said PB and J. I could definitely work with this. Even if his house was super spooky. I’d absolutely fight ghosts for food.

  “I like all of the above,” I smiled, my belly rumbling in anticipation.

  He gestured to a seat at an old farmhouse-style table. I sat down on a ladder-back chair, while he set the platter and a plate in front of me. He went to the fridge, “Would you like a drink?”

  “Sure.” I reached for one of the turkey and swiss sandwiches. “Whatcha got?”

  “We have juice, milk, grape soda.” He glanced from peering inside the fridge to me. “Water. Wine.”

  “I don’t think my head could handle wine. But I do love grape soda.”

  He pulled out two cans and joined me at the table. He placed a can in front of me, then grabbed a sandwich, too. PB and J. This should be super-awkward, but I suddenly felt like we were two kids at the school lunch table.

  I smiled after a moment.

  “What?” he asked, wiping at his mouth like he thought he might have jelly on his chin.

  “I was just thinking how weird this is.”

  He nodded.

  “So why did you want to marry me?” There was a question you didn’t ask in the school cafeteria.

  He set his sandwich down. “You healed me. No witch can do that. But you did.”

  “I would have accepted a thank you card. But seriously, that isn’t really a reason to marry me.”

  “My pack needs a witch like you,” he said, which still didn’t sound like a good reason to marry me.

  “I don’t even know if I could do it again,” I admitted. “My magic isn’t exactly—well, most of the time, I have no magic.”

  He studied me for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

  His vote of confidence touched me, and I felt a warm energy burning deep in my chest. We ate in silence for a few moments.

  “Also, this truce is a good thing for both our communities,” he said, still more pragmatic than I would have liked. Did I expect some vow of love or something? That was silly. We didn’t know each other at all. Did I hit my head when I passed out?

  “What time is it anyway?” I asked suddenly, wanting to change the subject. I couldn’t even see a thing outside the window, just inky darkness.

  “About three am, I’d guess.”

  Wow, I’d been passed out for a long time—no wonder I was so famished. I finished my sandwich and reached for another. PB and J. He watched me, his expression not masking his surprise.

  I raised an eyebrow, giving him a warning look. “You better know r
ight now that I eat a lot and I don’t like comments about it.”

  He lifted his hands. “No judgement here. I eat a lot, too.”

  “Cool.”

  Then he added, “Although you are so tiny, I have no idea where you put it.”

  “Witches have great metabolisms. A definite perk.”

  He took another sandwich, and we ate in silence again.

  “So why were you in New Orleans anyway? And do you know who attacked you?” Yes, I was filled with questions.

  He set his sandwich down again. “I was looking for my brother. And I think I was attacked by a gator Shifter.”

  “Your brother is missing?”

  He nodded. “For just over two weeks.”

  I could tell by his frown and the set of his jaw, he was worried. And given what that gator Shifter did to him, I could understand why. I didn’t know his brother, but I was worried, too.

  “Was it the same gator Shifter, who followed me that attacked you?”

  He shook his head. “Yes, I think so.”

  “So, are gator attacks a common thing for you?” I wasn’t sure I was thrilled about that gruesome gator guy showing up on the regular. Or his buddies.

  He shook his head. “Not until recently. Our pack has never got along with the gators, but we always just avoided each other, sticking to our own parts of the bayou.”

  “So, why are they attacking now?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Okay, that was weird. “Do you think they...attacked your brother?” I didn’t want to think that his brother had suffered the same fate he would have if I hadn’t found him.

  “I think it’s possible. But I’m not sure.” He was quiet for a moment, his gaze faraway, but I could see his pain and worry. My heart hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine if one of my siblings was missing.

  “Why would they be after me?” I asked.

  His gaze grew pensive. “I think the gator must have seen you heal me. He attacked me with a silver dagger. That would normally be certain death for a rougarou. But you healed the wound and the silver poisoning.”