CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GISELLA
Dolion’s skin changed with the sun’s birth, the stone-like roughness disappearing into his usual, deep golden hues. Minette peered over my shoulder. I was glad he had added pants to his usual attire of nothingness, though I suspected clothes were optional for him.
Occasionally we passed a small, rough hut, situated back into the knot of trees and leaves, propped up on tall, roughhewn stilts as though it had grown there, not been built by human hands. No other boats or people were visible, and for all appearances, we were alone.
Dolion drew us into a short jetty, lifting Minette onto the planking in one hand. The structure looked older than the one at Sebastian’s estate, if such a thing were possible. He turned to me and put a knee out.
“Gisella. We may be friends, but I won’t wear mud for you.”
“Understandable.” I took his hand and launched with one boot from his knee to the jetty, landing with both feet on the solid surface.
Surprised I hadn’t tumbled through a rotten board, I exited the tenuous platform with haste, glad to have my feet on real ground. The forced memory of my time on the ship with Amy that Sebastian had brought back in the swamp witch’s house consumed me until a howl nearby halted my progress.
Minette bumped into me, clutching my sodden dress. Dolion passed us, lifting my maid around me. I raised an eyebrow which he ignored, setting her down between us. I noted how covered in mud she was, and hoped I could buy some fabric to replace her ruined dress.
Dolion tipped his head back and howled. Minette squeaked again, backing into me. I gripped her hand again as a cacophony of answering howls rose around us in a disjointed symphony Dolion alone seemed to understand.
“Is this usual?” I whispered in her ear.
She shook her head, curls trembling frantically.
Dolion grinned over his shoulder at us. “The wolves welcome you. You’re not their usual taste, but…” He ran his eyes over both of us, laughter lighting his golden gaze.
I grimaced back, pushing Minette to follow him as he took to the path with his long stride. Trodden earth became a planked walkway over the water. Minette and I pattered over the boards, eager to reach land again.
Mossy branches hung around us, brushing our hair in a tunnel of green that concealed the treetop walkway from sight. Beneath the foliage, the bright light dimmed to an emerald hued twilight. Tiny, flickering lights glowed in the depths of the bayou ahead of Dolion.
He held aside dangling vines. A thin green snake hissed at me from one, its tail coiling around his arm. He caught its head between two fingers, eyeing the slithery beast, and nodded at us. “She is safe. I’ll wait for you here.”
I frowned at his words and opened my mouth to ask, but he jerked his head toward the lights. All right, Dolion. But you could have said we would do this part alone. No reply came, and I assumed he didn’t have the same method of communication that I shared with Sebastian.
Had shared with him, because in the last days since Amy intruded on our life together, I had heard nothing from him. Taking a long breath of still, bayou air, I peered into the wavering light, where a house became visible the longer I looked.
Minette poked my ribs, shifting me forward while I stood lost in thought. I clattered my way up the boards until I came to a small set of stairs leading down into the house. Made of several, uneven levels, it was like something out of a fairy story—one from Charles Perrault, perhaps. Thick branches supported wood planked walls and layered roofing that spread out across the walkway as though the house had multiple entry ways.
At the base of the steps stood two huge men, both sporting long hair, and open, bedraggled shirts. Each man was musclebound, their strength evidence even beneath their meager clothing. One cupped his hands to his mouth and howled into the depths of the swamp. After a moment, a distant howl echoed back, and he turned to face me, satisfied.
It was all too easy to believe such a man could transform into the beast he mimicked. The entire scene has a whimsical feel to it, like I might step into a fairy realm and never emerge. He gestured me to the steps, his gaze tracking over my body, his lip curling at my mud-stained dress.
Ignoring his attention, I ascended with as much grace as I could, stopping at the second step to be of a height with them. Swallowing back fear, I tried to smile. “I’m here to see?—”
Hands removed me from the step, placing me on the soft ground. “In there.”
I nodded, squeezing my nails into my hands. The hands lingered at my waist for a moment, then dropped away. I held my breath, but the lone man's touch held none of the power of Sebastian’s connection to my body. My heart panged at the loss of him over the past few days. Determined to fix whatever I could before I lost him forever, I strode into the house, my steps too loud on the board, and paused over the threshold.
Shadows filled the cluttered house. Jars and statues covered shelves adjoined to the walls. Uneven wooden furniture and a collection of silks in an array of colors looked out of place in the rustic building. Rickety stairs led to both upper and lower levels, though the staircase centered around a giant trunk that created a center point thought the entire house with its multiple stories.
“It’s like something out of a dream. A fantasy,” Minette whispered, still gripping my hand.
I nodded, wandering further into the house. “Hello?” I called, hoping I wouldn’t bring the place down on us.
Minette began to climb the stairs, but I continued around the ancient tree to find its twin tucked away at the back of the room. Its trunk was scarred with carvings of people and places. Events . I smiled; Dolion would like the way Granny Smythe recorded history.
On the other side of the second tree stood a tatty armchair, covered in cushions and shawls. It took me a moment to discern the person seated amongst it all. Wispy and frail, she gave me a gummy smile, peering at me from rheumy eyes.
“Granny Smythe?” I squatted before her, mud crackling as I shifted, large, brown flakes drifting from my skirts to the floor. “My name is?—”
“It’s not her. And don’t ever give them your name.”
I jumped, pivoting on my heel to face the voice I knew well. He stepped forward out of the shadows, bracing both arms above his head against a heavy wooden strut. His dark eyes hooded as he stared at me, a flicker of—something—lighting a familiar flame there.
I cleared my throat. “This is where you’ve been hiding?”
“Yes.” My husband surveyed me with a curious eye. “What in all the hells happened to you?”
“She fell in the bog.” Dolion appeared around the tree trunk, towing Minette along with him. The small maid appeared pale and tiny beside his bulk. I noted his hands on her waist with a wry smile. She appeared to have forgotten about poor James as predicted, back at the estate. “I dragged her out again.”
“You should have left her there.” Sebastian glared at his friend. “We’ll have words later.”
Dolion rolled his eyes. “Pup.”
I stared between the two men and realized with a start that Dolion had a good century or more on my husband. He turned a sharp eye my way and winked. I grinned at the gargoyle, shaking my head at his audacity.
“You. We’re leaving.” Sebastian snared my arm, towing me toward a darkened hallway.
“Like hell,” I snapped, yanking my arm free. “I came here to get the answers you should have given me. I wouldn’t have to be here if you’d talk to me.” That last came out like a plea, begging. I hated the sound and wished I could take the words back, mangle them into something else and spit them back out again.
“That’s never going to happen, dearie.” A woman with silver-streaked dark hair stepped between us, proffering a tray of small glasses filled with a lime-colored liquid.
Dolion bowed, while Sebastian glared at me over her head.
“Granny.” Dolion rose, liberating the tray.
She hugged his waist, taking Minette by the hand and leading her away from our small crowd. I found a glass pressed into my hand. Golden eyes assessed me, but nothing happened, and I seemed to have passed his test. I smiled my thanks to Dolion, but the drink was whisked away and placed back on the tray.
“We’re going,” Sebastian growled, low enough to make the air around me tremble.
I held his gaze, though fear plagued me—not of him, but whether I’d made a huge error coming here without trying harder to speak to him first. While I fought my indecision, the glass was placed back into my hand.
I nodded to Dolion, who watched his friend with a frown, and tossed the liquor back before Sebastian could take it away. Sebastian’s hand tightened on my arm, his presence roaring into my head where it stayed silent for so long. I tugged back, but he held me in a firm grip, pulling me against him.
Where before I would have found the action arousing, intimate, all I met now was a hard, closed face void of emotion and heart.
“I’ve had plenty of time to think about who you really are, Gella. ”
I frowned, forgetting to pull away. “Who I am? I’m…me.” His words made no sense but that didn’t change whatever he thought he saw in my head. He snorted, towing me out the door. “Sebastian. Stop, I’m not?—”
He turned on me with a snarl. “You’ll come with me, and if you choose not to walk, I’ll pick you up and hurl you back into the sludge you came from.”
I froze, sensation draining from me, numbness replacing it with speed. Blinking back tears and knowing I was well out of my depth, I stopped fighting and let him drag me across the room.
“You will not take a woman by force, in this way or any other.” Granny Smythe was at the doorway faster than I could follow.
“You’re fast,” I mumbled. Numbness crept along my arms in silent fingers, the alcohol taking fast effect on my body.
Sebastian laughed, still gripping my arm. “Get out of my way, witch.”
Granny Smythe smiled and pressed a hand to his chest. Sebastian dropped to the floor with a resounding thump and began to snore.
She smiled at me. “He shouldn’t speak that way to his elders.”
I blinked. “How many of you ancients are there?” I managed to croak.
The crone shook her head, gesturing me across to where Minette was seated at a small table. Dolion passed me another glass, and went to attend his friend.
“Can you teach me how you did that?” I asked, aiming to have something to say, all sense of manners deserting me.
“Of course.” Granny Smythe smiled at me. “Sit.”
I did sit, unsure if it was by my choice or her command. So many things in the last few days slipped out of my control, though that had been the story of my life for the past year. First the king’s purchase of me and the other girls away from our homes, then the ship across the seas, the abbey and finding my home with Sebastian.
I had been with him for less than a month, and already I knew my heart would shatter if he forced me to leave.
And go where?
He snored on at my feet and didn't answer. I shouldn't have come here without understanding more of his fear. My hands began to shake, and I hid them in my mud-encrusted skirt.
“I’m so sorry to bring all this here, to you.” Tears pricked at my admission, and I peered down to hide those, too.
“This was always like to come, dear. Now, have the drink the nice stone totem gave you.”
Dolion snorted across the room, shaking his head. I was glad to take that order, too, letting the liquid slide down my throat in a single gulp. Warmth spread into my limbs.
“What is that?” I rasped.
“Bayou rum. Plantations always have the best stuff. With a few little additives of my own, of course.”
“Of course,” I grinned, beginning to get a gauge of the crazy woman.
“Now, you want to know about Anitta.”
“Amy— yes, I know her by another name.”
“Many do,” she said enigmatically, sliding a white bundle across the table. It was so bright I could barely look at it until she pressed a hand to the cloth. The glow diminished as if by a silent command. “I’ve been trialing a new silk, one that tells the prying person to kass twa. ”
Her Creole words rolled over her tongue with emphasis, but her meaning was clear. The cloth parted under her hands, revealing a handsome stack of vibrant blue cards, much larger than the average deck of playing cards. Each one was about the length of my hand with all my fingers extended.
Dolion returned, lifting Minette and placing her across his lap to slide into the chair beside me. She didn’t so much as squark but curled her hands around his shoulders as though hanging on for dear life.
Granny Smythe smirked. “It’s so sweet when the olds find new love.”
“You know I can hear you,” Dolion said from behind Minette’s mop of curls.
“Yes, dear. Of course.” She shuffled the cards, sending several in a straight line towards me. When five were lined in a neat row, she looked at me expectantly.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Put your hands on the cards, of course.”
“Of course,” I muttered, more out of my depth than before. “Is this magic?”
“Well, we could call it voodoo to get you in the mood.” She sent me an impish grin, her eyes sliding to Dolion. “I could get out my snakes and shake some rattles, but it’s not in me. There are plenty it’s for, but not this witch.”
“Is that what you are?” My hands were drawn to the cards, dealt face down. I hovered over them, indecisive. “You know, strangers might take you more seriously if you showed some age,” I muttered, trying to decide between two end cards.
“If I did that, the nice young men,” she patted Dolion’s bicep, and Minette slapped her hand away, “might not come calling.”
“Is that what you think they do?” My hands couldn’t choose and, not being the most patient person, I slapped them both down, to see what would happen.
The table rippled. Like water, the entire surface became fluid, its edges flowing in waves. Granny Smythe scooted back, her hands held high in the air. Dolion lifted Minette in his arms, tossing her away from the table to the rug in the center of the room behind us.
Everything on the table turned the blue of the deck of cards, rippling in rows of waves and eddies that shouldn’t have been possible. Drawn to the movement, I leaned forward, swaying as I had on the ship. Something in the water called to me, something beneath the surface.
Impatient, I pressed closer, desperate to see what it was. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, hauling me upright. I struggled, ripping and tearing at the thick arms around me, but they refused to release me, dragging me back from the water and its siren call.
“Stay with me, Gella.” His voice was rough in my ear, bringing me back, centering me. “Please.” That last had an edge of desperation, and instead of me begging, it was him.
And that was enough to break the spell and bring me back.
“Sebastian,” I gasped. My hands uncurled, clinging to him, rather than fighting.
“Tell me,” Granny Smythe commanded, her eyes the color of the ocean.
I sank forward again, but Sebastian held me upright. A roar filled my ears, and I was back with the ship. Not on it, but seeing it from the outside, as though I were a bird flying at its side. Wind rushed against me, chilled and full of salt. I screamed as that salt was torn away, rent through my skin. The air across the watery table white. Tiny crystals formed, suspended in the air between us and the crone.
Then the waves crashed over me, and I lost myself in their chaos.
“Gella!” Sebastian yelled in my ear, but all I could see were waves and white caps, the unbroken surface. I needed to dive down, find what was beneath, to claim what called to me.
“It’s taking her!”
I wrestled in his arms, twisting, yanking, but he was iron to my lace. As I came back to myself, I knew there was nothing between us but the ashes of our souls clashing, then rent apart.
His face came level with mine, his lips moving, though I didn’t understand a word of whatever language he whispered. I pressed my hands to his cheeks, holding on as the water calmed around me, numbing, soothing, stilling.
Then the world returned in full force.
I stared at Granny Smythe until her eyes returned to a human form, though I doubted that anyone could convince me of who could be considered normal here. Exhaling a salty breath, I turned in Sebastian’s arms, pressing my cheek to his shoulder, his shirt dry. Neither of us were covered in sweat, nor did I have a tear to pass for my trials.
She had taken salt from us.
“What does it mean?” I looked up at him, relying on him to give me the truth, though I knew he could withhold it if he chose.
I trust you.
The gentle brush of his consciousness against mine offered an additional layer of comfort as I burrowed deeper into the security of his broad arms.
“I don’t know.” He stared straight at the swamp witch, pressing me to him.
Between us, warmth began to grow.