Chapter 5 #2
My gaze travelled back up to a picture of three men posed in front of a barn.
One scowled darkly, his thick beard obscuring the shape of his face.
The others were less shaggy, their bright smiles unusual for such an old picture.
I stopped on one of the men, leaning closer to stare at the unexpectedly familiar face.
Why did I recognize a man from more than half a century ago?
“People love tragedy.”
“Huh?” I turned around, not surprised to see a tiny old woman in a silky floral shawl. Her neck and wrists were adorned with beads and her grey hair was braided into a thick rope that rested on her shoulder.
Somehow, her eyes didn’t match her appearance, too sharp in her otherwise soft and tired face.
“Port O’Henry has a sad history. Lots of pain and suffering. People love it. That collection is almost more popular than me.”
“People are twisted,” I responded, taking a step forward and smiling politely. “Your sign said you were open. I hope I’m not intruding.”
The woman smiled back and it was friendly, if not a little calculating. “Of course not. I’ve been expecting you, Tara.”
Cold swept through the room, creeping over my skin like frost across the ground.
The woman cackled, catching me off guard. “You should see your face.” She shook her head, beads clinking as she did. “I have an arrangement with one of the rental agents. He gives me a list of names whenever there are new renters and I slip him a few bills. The tourists love it.”
I exhaled, my palm still firmly planted over my heart in a scandalized gesture. “Is that legal?”
She shrugged. “Would you like a reading? The first one is always free.”
What did I have to lose? At the very least, it would be entertaining. “Sure, why not?”
“Let me introduce myself.” She bowed dramatically. “I am Madame Celine. Come, make yourself comfortable.” Celine disappeared behind a curtain of beads, waving for me to follow.
The scent of incense was cloying back here, making my eyes burn. A series of red lights shone onto a round table in the middle of the narrow room. Two overstuffed green recliners were placed across from each other on either side.
Shelves and tables lined every wall, decorated with crystals and statues of weird combinations of human and animal forms. There was one of a naked man with a wolf’s head. I stared for a moment too long, trying not to think of that horrible vision of Jay.
Celine followed my line of sight and smiled slyly. “The loup garou. Some believe he lives out on the bayou.”
“What’s with all the bayou ghost stories?” I settled into one of the chairs as she did the same.
“The natives that lived here before Europeans settled it wouldn’t go into the bayou, especially at night.
They believed shape shifters and spirits wandered there.
” Celine folded her hands on the table. “Some people live out there nowadays, like the Barbeaux family. But others still believe the old legends.”
Barbeaux? As in Isaac Barbeaux?
“Enough stories. Let’s begin. Place your hands palm up on the table.”
I obeyed, jumping when Celine snatched my hands up and drew them to her face.
She squinted down at them, making an occasional noise in her throat.
That sly smile quirked the old woman’s face again and my hands began to burn.
Heat pulsed up my forearms and I had a sudden desperate urge to break free.
I couldn’t get my arms to move.
For a heartbeat, Celine’s dark eyes clouded red. I blinked. The red sheen was still there. She blinked—and the color was gone.
My breath was coming too fast.
“You’re running.” Another studying look. “There’s no point.”
I swallowed tightly, throat dry. “What do you mean?”
“He’s—He’s going to—” Celine’s features drooped and her face looked two decades older. Sorrow carved deep lines around her lips as she whispered to herself. “He’s going to catch you.”
“Who?” It can’t be Jay. He’s not chasing me. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure that was true.
She ignored my question, eyes unfocused. “I think this story has a very sad ending.”
Silence pressed in on us, the heat in my arms almost unbearable. I was about to tell her I changed my mind, that I didn’t want to know my future, when the tension ebbed from her in a soft, knowing smile. “But that ending isn’t yours. You are only part of the journey.”
“I’m…what?” I was still hung up on the part about being caught. “Can you expound on the part about him catching me?”
“You’re running and—oh. Two men pursue you.
” Celine chuckled to herself. “This just got juicy. Two men pursue you and both of them will catch you.” I opened my mouth to ask another question but Celine held up a finger.
“You have the opportunity for peace. But first you will have to sacrifice and suffer. All of you will.”
“All of us?”
“I’m afraid that’s all I have.” Celine stood abruptly, chair legs squeaking against the floor. Her gaze darted to a shadowed door in the corner of the room, one I hadn’t noticed before. “Thanks for visiting Madame Celine. Come back sometime.”
She came around the table and all but shoved me out of my chair. With a hand on my back she guided me to the front door, sending me back out into the cold. The door snapped shut behind me, the lock clicking into place as the light faded from the “open” sign.
That was…unusual.
I was still puzzling out exactly what happened when movement caught my attention. I turned toward the parking lot where a row of trucks and trailers were parked. A man stood beside a black truck. Too rigid. Too still.
He was staring right at me, unblinking.
He’s going to catch you.
The wind blew greasy brown hair into his face, and his nostrils flared. Something was wrong with my vision today because his eyes seemed to crackle bright and golden.
I watched him take a step in my direction, and I did the same thing I’d been doing since last week.
I ran.