Page 22 of Cursed (Decorah Security 2.0, #14)

CHAPTER TEN

Andre shoved Morgan protectively behind him. “What?” he asked urgently.

She pointed to the gris-gris. “Another one. It’s another one.”

Still holding her back, he knelt and pushed the weeds aside, then swore. Prepared with another handkerchief, he scooped the blob up and closed his fist around it.

“It did that to me,” she whispered.

“Did what?”

“Messed with my mind. Made me reach for my gun and almost shoot you.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right,” he said as he led her outside the fence and closed the gate.

She gulped. “I saw another one today.”

He whirled toward her. “Another charm? Where?”

“On the road into town. Near where you rescued me from the flood.”

“And what happened that time?” he demanded.

“I felt like the water was sweeping me away. Even though I was safe in the car.”

His face turned fierce. “ Merde !”

“Is it the priestess?”

“Who else has that power?”

She shook her head. She hadn’t believed in supernatural power at all. Now it looked like she had no choice.

“You should go back to the house,” he said.

She knew he wanted to protect her. She was also pretty sure he was looking for an excuse to withdraw behind the wall he’d built since she’d arrived.

“This time, stay and talk to me,” she whispered. “Why are you so different from the man I thought I knew?”

His gaze burned into her. “What do you mean—the man you thought you knew?”

She forced herself to speak frankly. “I mean—when we sent e-mail messages back and forth. You … you seemed friendly and open. We exchanged a lot of information. Not just about the case. Personal stuff. Then, as soon as I got here, you started being … evasive.”

He clenched and unclenched his fists. “The first thing that happened when you got here was that men from town threatened you in the bayou. I realized I’d put you in danger by asking you to come to Belle Vista.”

“But not giving me information doesn’t help!”

“I’m trying to figure out what to do!”

“Well, you can’t do it on your own! You hired me to do a job. Let me do it.” She struggled to get control of her own emotions. Fumbling her way back to a less threatening topic, she said, “tell me about the graveyard.”

His face contorted. “My ancestors are buried here. But I don’t visit them often. I tend to neglect the place.”

“You could hire someone.”

“There aren’t many people around here who would work for me.”

The flat way he said it tore at her. She had told him they must speak frankly. But she needed more than words. Reaching out, she wrapped him in her arms.

“You should stay away from me,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“Like I said, I’m putting you in danger.”

“From whom?”

“From the voodoo priestess. And from whoever is trying to drive me away from Belle Vista.”

“When you hired me, you didn’t say anyone was trying to drive you away.”

“Because it’s hard to talk about something that disturbing.”

“So, you thought you’d get me down here—then work it into the conversation.”

He laughed. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’m prepared to hear anything you have to say. I’m not some little librarian from back east. I’m a trained undercover agent.”

“Right. Tough as forged steel,” he murmured, and she caught a hint of the very appealing man she remembered from their correspondence.

Was that why she’d come down to Louisiana? Because she’d enjoyed his company—long distance. And was that part of the instant physical attraction she’d felt for him

She had fought that attraction. Now she heard herself say, “Maybe neither one of us is as tough as he—or she—thinks.”

When he didn’t answer, she said, “I’m here. You don’t have to go it alone.”

His arms slipped around her shoulders. When he’d held her before, his touch had turned passionate. Now he was deliberately keeping them both at a less heated level.

“Tell me about the curse,” she whispered.

She half expected him to pull away. Instead, he dragged in a breath, then let it out.

“I told you I didn’t go away to school because I had to take care of my father.

That was true. But it wasn’t the only reason.

I can’t leave this place. So, whoever is trying to drive me away is doomed to failure.

” He laughed, and this time the sound wasn’t pleasant. “The joke’s on them.”

“What do you mean—you can’t leave?”

His teeth clamped together. Then he seemed to make a deliberate effort to relax. “The priestess comes out here to reinforce an old grudge. Her ancestor cursed my family. We have to stay at Belle Vista.”

She tipped her head back, staring into his eyes. “You believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You said you felt the power—on the road and now in the graveyard.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“I feel it, too.” He grimaced. “It we put it in medical terms, we could say that what you experienced were acute episodes. What I’ve got is a low-level, persistent infection—that flares up if I stay away from Belle Vista for too long.”

“If you stay away overnight?” she guessed.

“Yes!”

“And … and … what happens here at night?”

She saw him swallow. “I have to go out into the bayou … and stay there until near dawn.”

“But isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yes. But I have no choice. So, I’ve learned to live with it.”

“Can you break the curse?” she asked in a shaky voice, amazed that she had bought into the reality of a voodoo curse. But she’d discovered it was the only way to have a coherent discussion about his problems.

“Maybe if I had someone at my side to help.” He swallowed. “Someone willing to stay here with me.”

She nodded silently, not sure what to say.

His eyes drilled into hers. She wanted to look away, but she held herself steady.

Another question burned behind her lips.

A question she was afraid to ask. Yet Andre had finally been honest with her.

Now she had to face her own fears—about the dreams she’d had since she’d put on the robe.

She’d tried to shove them to the back of her mind.

Yet she knew she had to deal with what they meant.

“The woman your grandfather loved and lost—was her name Linette Sonnier?” she whispered.

Morgan watched a host of emotions chasing themselves across Andre’s face. “Where did you get that name?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

“Where could I have gotten it?” she asked carefully.

His jaw firmed. “You couldn’t have researched my family.”

“Well, that’s not how the name came to me,” she answered.

He opened his mouth, but she hurried on, forcing herself to grapple with one of the other questions that had been gnawing at her since the first afternoon when Andre had rescued her from the flood. “Why was that robe you gave me in a bag of clothing in your car?”

“I told you, it was going to a garage sale at the church.”

“You don’t get along with the town, why were you taking anything to a church sale?” she challenged

“It was either that—or burn the clothing. And I was taught from a young age never to throw out anything that someone could use. Just because some people in St. Germaine don’t like me is no reason to spite the rest of them.”

“Okay.” She would give him that much. But it still didn’t get to the crux of her question. “You didn’t have the robe …” she stopped then began again. “You didn’t have the robe in the car so I could put it on?”

Instead of answering, he made a frustrated gesture with his hand. “I asked you about Linette. What does that have to do with the bag of clothing? I didn’t even know what was in there until you were sitting there shivering like a drowned muskrat. Why are we going on about the robe?”

Lifting her gaze, she looked back toward the cemetery plot. It was no longer visible through the trees, but she knew it was still lurking in the shadows. “I had a couple of weird experiences today.”

“And? This is the damn strangest conversation I ever had,” he added in exasperation. “What—you’re just going to ignore every question I ask you?”

“I’m working up to an answer,” she murmured, scuffing her foot against the ground, watching with great interest as she scraped a line in the dirt. “This is hard. What I wanted to say was that … I … I had another weird experience when I put on the robe.” She swallowed.

“A bad experience?”

“No. I … I had a vision of Linette.”

His reaction seemed to be as strong as her own. “What?” he gasped out. “What are you talking about?”

“Andre, I’m a pretty down-to-earth person. I don’t know how to describe what happened exactly. But it was like I had a dream. About her.”

“While you were sitting in the car—right after I pulled you out of the water? When you looked like you were asleep?”

“Yes,” she answered. Then, because she wanted to be honest, she said, “And later—when I went to bed. That first night I was here.”

He gave her an appraising look. “A dream. If you’re in a dream, you’d be one of the characters. So—who were you?”

It was a very perceptive question. She wanted to duck away from his probing gaze. But she wasn’t going to be a coward, so she kept her eyes focused on him. “I was Linette.”

His indrawn breath raised goose bumps on her skin, but she struggled to stay rational. “What do you know about it?” she demanded.

When he didn’t answer, a terrible notion leaped into her mind. “Tell me what’s going on, damn you! Were you projecting some sort of dream into my head? Is that it?”

“No! How could I do something like that?” he shot back.

“I don’t know! If you didn’t hypnotize me—then what?”

She saw his hands clench, then unclench. Slowly and distinctly, he said, “I don’t know what happened to you. But I’ve dreamed about Linette for years.”

She stared at him. Then the obvious question tumbled from her lips, the question he’d asked her. “And in those dreams—who are you ?”

For a moment, she thought he was going to walk away instead of answering. He dragged shaky fingers through his hair. “I’m Andre. My grandfather. Myself. Hell, I don’t know anymore!”