The woman reached within the body-hugging red garment she wore, drew out a kerchief wrapped object with one hand, and retrieved a wicked looking dagger with the other. “No,” you will not hurt my captain.” One of the men behind her spoke as he charged at the armed woman.
She knifed him in the ribs, and he fell to the floor. Another of the onlookers knelt to help the man.
“No.” The wounded man shoved help away. “It’s only a scratch. Stop that woman!”
“Mawu, no, you must not do this,” the third figure cried, a woman from the sound of the voice. “You cur. Devil dog. Snake. Betrayer. You have broken my heart. Now I shall break yours.” The armed woman shook open the kerchief to reveal a handmade figure. “I made this gris gris to save you from disaster. But you don’t deserve saving. So, I give you curses and damnation for as long as my curses shall endure.”
The watchers attempted to grab the knife or the gris gris and secure the woman’s arms. She moved too quickly to be stopped.
Grainne cowered beneath the crimson quilt as her beloved rose from the bed and donned a shirt, as he walked smiling, toward the woman with the dagger. What’s happening? Who are all these people? Grainne wondered.
Why were they there? Why was that woman cursing Luc? Why was she accusing him of betrayal?
“Just what do you think you can do to me, Mawu Anaisa?” the man of Grainne’s dreams drawled. The man she had always—would always—love.
“This.” The dark-skinned beauty plunged the dagger toward her belly and twisted the knife. Her life streamed from the gaping wound, as she withdrew the bloody blade, gore spattered to the wood-planked floor. She turned the dagger on the gris gris, striking it again and again, until red covered it, too, and soaked the material on which it lay. Luc staggered. With each plunge of the blade into the figure, a new wound bled on his shirt. Scarlett lines dribbled downward soaking into the cloth and lower.
“Lucien Flynn, I curse you,” the bleeding woman growled. “This ship is your life, but to women you are as inconstant as the moon. So shall you and your ship be until you give your heart to a woman who has none…only then will you once more see this light of day.”
Grace jerked awake, gasping for air.A dream. Only a dream. Not real.
Yet, it was exactly as Luc had told it to her. She scrambled from the bed.
By the door, Mercury and Mars stirred and looked up at her collectively.
“Go back to sleep. Everything is fine.” It wasn’t—wouldn’t be—until she proved to herself the dream events were not the same as Luc’s story. Grace grabbed her keys from the desk and knelt before the antique chest. In her panic, she fumbled the keys twice before she managed to insert the right one into the lock and turn it.
The logbook was exactly where she’d put it. She took it from the chest and sat on the floor opening to the pages with the script that hadn’t been there before Luc had recited what was written.
She read. “However, I recall her curse perfectly. ‘This ship is your life, but to women you are as inconstant as the moon. So shall you and your ship be until you earn the heart of a woman who has none…only then will you once more see this light of day.’”
No!
Grace covered her mouth to keep from screaming her denial.
Despite her wishes, the truth stared back at her in black and aged parchment. The words were exactly the same as she’d dreamed them. The words a woman named Mawu had said, as she’d used her own blood to seal the curse.
Grace locked the logbook away once more then stepped from the tall French window to stare out over the bayou.
The moon was setting. Dawn would come soon. Luc would be ephemeral, invisible to everyone. She’d only know if he was present, if he spoke to her. Grace would speak his name. He would come. Why he had not shown himself earlier, she could not say. Not seeing him did not mean he hadn’t been there. Luc had never lied to her. Something no other person had done. Not even Aunt Sarah, who’d believed in the kindness of “little white lies.”
She turned her back on the bayou, then went to get dressed. The dogs understood they’d go out soon and began their usual morning dance around her feet as she moved.
“You two make this more difficult than it has to be, so I take more time,” she told them. “If you sat patiently, you would be outside sooner.”
Their doggy bottoms hit the floor.
Grace smiled, and shook her head.They really do understand what I say. They just weren’t very good at remembering.
Downstairs, she let them out. Fed the cat and served the dogs food. She took care of the horses, letting the routine activity soothe her.
Yes, she would say Luc’s name again, but not today. Today, she was determined to find the remains of theOnly Love. She was nearly convinced of Luc’s curse, but a tiny part of her refused to believe. Finding theOnly Lovecould put that niggling doubt to rest. Good thing today is a Sunday and the land crew doesn’t work on the Sabbath.
Only when Grace was certain Luc was cursed would she call his name.Then?
Then they’d talk. She’d always had questions about Luc, but now the questions were different. Now, she wanted to know not just what’d happened to Lucien Flynn but learn who he truly was in his heart, his soul. Most important she wanted to know why. Why he lived as he did? Why he made the choices he’d made?
Why…everything?
