Chapter 20
Emmeline
Gris-gris.
Be a good little witch.
He’d been playing much closer attention to the art of black magic I’d learned from my grandmother.
He was right that when certain spices were added, the gris-gris could be used for evil intentions, which was usually rare.
Had I created sinful gauze bags full of enough evil intentions that the person I’d hexed would likely spend his or her life embroiled with difficulties or non-life-threatening tragedies?
Well, duh. When you’re born with the ability to impose hexes on others, there wasn’t a voodoo queen out there who didn’t enjoy utilizing the handy tool at least a few times in life.
I’d even used one in high school on my biggest rival, the nasty little bitch using conventional horrible methods of keeping me off the cheerleading squad.
Including doctoring photographs to try to ruin my good girl image.
Well, I’d gone one step above in revenge. The scandal was horrific and I loved every moment of being the creator of such a vicious deed.
Then my grandmother had sat me down, explaining how the one curse I’d believed was benign was far reaching. Including showing me possible futures because of what I’d done.
I’d learned on that very night how to backtrack curses and to respect the magic of the gris-gris, which held to this day. I hadn’t used the tiny bags for anything evil in years.
Now, as I sat next to the man I’d fantasized about for so long, realizing that he thought me a witch capable of true evil had built a knot in my stomach.
Even if tossing a horrific curse on those trying to hurt us might have prevented me from killing a man. I wrung my hands as he jumped into the car, turning over the engine. At least the little Chevy was black in color and wouldn’t draw much attention.
As he pulled out of the parking lot, I turned around to stare at the building. Maybe I expected the driver to suddenly appear in the early morning light.
“What’s wrong?” Donatello asked only seconds later.
“Nothing is wrong. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“Nothing.”
He laughed softly while checking into the rearview mirror. “You’re a terrible liar. If you can’t trust me now after everything we’ve been through, I don’t know when you’ll be able to. If ever.”
“I trust you, Donatello. How many times have you saved my life?”
“Then what?”
I stared out the passenger window for half a beat. “The gris-gris. You’re very fascinated with the concept.”
“Only because you deeply believe in prisms and sticking pins in stuffed dolls that are scary enough as they are.”
“Jesus. Stick pins in dolls? When have you ever seen me do that?” His look of amusement was cause for me to hiss. “How do you remember that? I’d just met you.”
“Which is why the event stuck out in my mind so much. You were holding a terrifying doll, actively driving a nasty-looking huge pin into the doll’s face. I thought I’d stepped into a horror movie with your family.”
That caused me to punch him in the arm. “Very funny. There wasn’t magic around it. At least not really.”
“Who was the doll supposed to be?”
I folded my arms, looking away. Maybe he truly did know me better than I thought he did. “My English teacher. She gave me my only failing grade in my entire school career over a piece I wrote.”
“Fact or fiction?”
“Fiction. I wrote a little horror piece depicting the New Orleans graveyards and killer zombies and she didn’t like the material I’d selected.”
“Graphic?”
“Well, of course. You know me. She said I had a twisted mind and needed psychological help.”
“Wow,” he said, laughing.
“Yeah, wow. At least Mother cleared it up for me, ensuring I received an A on my beautiful story. You never want to mess with my mother.”
We both laughed while he headed toward the airport. We were far from being out of danger.
“Or you evidently. Any marks on the teacher?”
Shrugging, I bit back a laugh until I couldn’t. “She had all these ugly red blotches on her face for weeks. I was happy. All the gris-gris created and sold at Indulgence are meant to influence good spirits. You know. A blessing on a new home. A marriage. That kind of thing.”
“Ah,” he said, another round of amusement in his tone. “So the gris-gris at the rental house?”
Heat instantly slipped across my jaw, which I clenched to try to keep from admitting the truth. “Just wishing the house safety and protection.”
“Really?”
“And its inhabitants.”
He tapped his index finger on the steering wheel in a perfect rhythm. He knew it drove me nuts. So he kept doing it. A little trick when he was certain I was lying. “Fine. Okay? It was a spell for something more personal.”
“Involving? Come on. Spill it. We don’t have much time.”
“Nope.”
Every time he carried a certain tone when he laughed, the one that was deep and throaty, akin to the husky voices used for voiceovers and movie trailers, I always swooned or gave in to him.
“Fine,” I said under my breath. “A spell on the two of us.”
“You cursed us?”
“No, goofy. A good spell. That we’d get along and not argue.” And that we’d fall in love. I could not believe I’d done that. God. What was wrong with me?
“Huh,” he muttered seconds later. “I like that. I guess we’ll see if it works.”
Who was this man? When I looked over at him, he grinned.
“But time to have our eye on the ball. If we can’t leave, we’ll need to find a place to hole up for a few days. You’re responsible for finding someplace suitable.”
“Why, yes, sir.”
“I kind like that. Sir.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
We were closing in on the airport and the knot in my stomach grew much larger. The rush of adrenaline was close to being gone, replaced with a sickly combination of exhaustion and terror.
I didn’t want to fully admit how frightened I was to a man like Donatello, but I was very much on edge, trying my best to keep from breaking down. Yes, the thrill of the car ride had kept me pumped for several minutes after the quiet had settled in.
Yet my nerves were raw.
While I hadn’t heard the shot Donatello had fired into the driver, I’d felt it, even jumping. At this point, my imagination was running wild.
What had occurred inside the beautiful house had also settled in. I’d had a day and a half of happiness. Now, to anyone who didn’t know me and was looking in from the outside, they’d think me a spoiled brat.
Yes, I’d had happiness in my life. I’d also enjoyed love from family and friends. I’d been allowed freedoms few were ever provided because of my parents’ wealth. I’d been given the finest education, designer clothes, and a car for my sixteenth birthday.
And maybe all throughout my formative years I’d continually disregarded how grateful I should feel.
Maybe I’d believed that by remaining a good student and a good person, even winning a scholarship to lessen the burden on my parents’ bank account had meant I was giving back.
Or certainly when I’d been eager and willing to work for the family business, working my way up from a clerk in the boutique to the buyer for our various stores.
That had been at my parents’ insistence, something they’d required for every child born into the regime.
However, that’s what I’d wanted. To learn the business from the ground up.
It had been my goal to bring more legitimacy to the corporation, even using being the apple of my father’s eye to ensure nothing criminal touched Indulgence.
I’d very much wanted my parents, namely my father, to be proud of me. And he had been. At least that’s what he’d told me on the morning of his murder.
He’d called me out of the blue, sharing his feelings. A rarity. Now, if I’d called him, he would have stepped away from what he was doing to ensure I had all the time I needed.
Then he’d had to go and be murdered on me.
I was lamenting over family because Donatello was right. Maybe I’d taken what I had with them for granted and had for years. Had I legitimately been smothered? Absolutely, and more so after my father’s death, but my brothers just wanted to keep me safe.
Maybe now I should finally accept why.
Someone wanted me… kidnapped.
The realization suddenly hit me. I sat up in my seat, gripping the dashboard. “There were five men there because they’d been ordered to take me alive. Right?”
Donatello rolled into the parking lot of the private jet area before glancing over at me. He didn’t want to burst my little bubble.
“You can tell me the truth, Donatello. I’m a big girl. Maybe a stupid one, but a big girl. That man wasn’t going to kill me. Was he?”
“My instinct tells me he was given explicit instructions to keep you alive.”
A lump had formed in my throat hours before. “So I killed an innocent man.”
He laughed. “Make no mistake, sweet Ambrosia, the man was not innocent. What they would have done in the interim even with keeping you alive would most likely be very unpleasant.”
Everyone always tiptoed around me. “I got it. I understand. You don’t need to sugarcoat anything. Okay? I wasn’t thinking about what would happen by being all alone four thousand miles from home. I put myself in terrible danger. Trust me, I get it.”
His heavy sigh highlighted the frustration I felt. “What I’m trying to tell you is that there is no need for you to feel guilty about what happened. The man deserved his fate.”
“Someone might need to explain that to me one day. And here I thought I was so tough both inside and out.”
When he reached over and placed his hand on my leg, a heated tingle rushed through me. “I’m glad you’re exactly the way you are. A little tough on the outside but caring and loving on the inside.”
His touch felt both amazing and wrong. Maybe I didn’t believe I deserved any kindness at this point.
“The thought was to use me in some manner against the family and Alexander’s rule. A weakness that no one in the family would be able to ignore. Right?”