Angie Fox: Gentlemen Prefer Voodoo

What did that have to do with anything? “Maybe your knuckles swelled.”

Anger flashed across his face. “No. I can no longer wear this because I have found my one true love,” he said, gripping the ring between two fingers, holding the shimmering gold band between them. “That is you. Why do you find this so hard to accept?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because it’s impossible?”

He looked mad enough to spit. “It is true!”

“So you say.”

“So I know! I feel this with every breath in my body and I will not stop until you understand what it is you mean to me.”

Amie’s gaze drifted down the path. She had to pick the determined zombie. “How did I get into this?”

“Quiet.” He stiffened, his eyes fixed out into the night. “Do you hear that?”

Amie strained her ears. Yes. She heard a definite crunching coming from the graves to the left. This was too much. She’d better not have called up a whole army of lovers. How would she explain a harem to poor Isoke? He’d lose his tail and his top feathers too.

Amie crouched closer to Dante’s grave. If only it were a hoard of zombies. Then she would have been safe. As it was, her breath quickened as she saw two scarlet shadows fall across the path in front of her.

Oh no.

Her heart skittered. She’d heard of this—residual ghosts called up by voodoo magic. But she’d kept her magic contained.

Until it had escaped down the path.

Holy hoodoo.

How could she have been so careless?

“This is my fault,” she said under her breath, warning him. She didn’t know what was coming, but it couldn’t be good.

He stood next to his grave, waiting. “I know.”

She glanced at the long, dark path behind her. It would feel so good to run. The kicker was, there was nowhere to go. Besides, she had to fix her mistakes. She glanced at the zombie. Okay, she’d fix the most recent mistake.

Gripping her bottle of Florida water, she crouched low. One hand curled around the moldering brick tomb. Her heart beating low in her chest as the red shadows grew longer.

They were going to find her. She stiffened, unscrewing the bottle with shaking fingers.

By Papa Ghede ! She gasped as a pair of thugs stepped out onto the path in front of them. Their eyes glowed red with possession.

A chill ran though Amie. She’s seen the dead possess the living during voodoo rituals. The chwals she knew only allowed themselves to be taken by clean spirits. These men hadn’t done as well.

“I believe these are the men we heard before,” Dante said under his breath.

They moved like predators, and they were armed.

“What do they want?” Amie stammered.

Dante hesitated. “You.”

As they drew closer, she could see their gang colors and the fiery burning of their eyes. The one on the left snarled, his face a mass of anger and hate.

This was her fault. She’d never learned about death magic. She didn’t know what could happen if it escaped. She’d been too rash in coming here.

Amie’s fingers tightened around her blessed water. They were looking straight at her.

She could exorcise the spirits if only she had a bottle of 151 proof rum and a live chicken. Without them? She’d have to do the best she could. Amie poured her Florida water onto a patch of dirt, rubbing her fingers frantically into the mud.

“I command you to the earth,” she said, low in her throat. Focus your power . She dug harder. “I command you to the earth.”

The one on the right laughed. It was a hollow, menacing sound. He turned the barrel of his gun toward her. As if the world had slowed to contain only that moment, she watched the thug’s trigger finger squeeze tight.

Dante slammed into her as the shot cracked the night, ringing in her ears. Her cheek hit the ground as she watched blood splash onto the white gravel in front of her.

“Oh my god.” She clutched at the path.

The zombie leapt for the first mugger, knocking the gun from his hand.

Amie scrambled for the gun as her zombie barreled for the second man. Dante kicked the gun out of his hands and crashed into a crumbling brick vault. The second gun skittered into the night as Amie closed her hands around the first.

“Freeze,” Amie commanded, aiming the weapon at the men. “Now get out or I’m going to send you straight to hell.”

The thugs spasmed as the spirits roiled out of their bodies. Their eyes rolled up into their heads. Two red masses shot into the night before the men crumpled to the ground.

Dante climbed to his feet and put his fingers to the neck of the closest man. “He’s out cold.”

Heart hammering, Amie hunched next to the other man and lifted his eyelid. The pupils were clear. He’d have a massive headache, but he should be awake by the time the first tour group rolled through in the morning.

“Come.” Dante reached a hand down to her. His wide shoulders shook with tension and his left arm was a bloody mess.

“Oh my god.”

He ignored her. “We have to go.”

Amie laid the gun on the path next to her and grasped the neck of the bottle. It was mostly rubbing alcohol anyway. But it had been smashed on the ground. She used the broken edge to rip a strip of cloth from the bottom of her skirt. She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting the fabric. When she had enough, she wadded it into a bandage and touched it to his arm.

“Ow!” He jerked back.

“Calm down,” she said, her own pulse racing as she wiped the blood. “Hold this on there. We can clean it out at my house.”

He gave her a long look. “As long as you promise not to try to kill me.”

She rolled her eyes as if she hadn’t been trying to do that very thing a few moments ago.

Only before, he wasn’t quite human. Now, she didn’t know.

By Gedhe, this was such a mess.

Amie watched Dante seal the guns in his vault and grab the ring. Who was this man who had burst into her life, kissed her silly, and brought her here?

Is that what he was?

A man?

She didn’t quite believe it. In fact, this entire night had been one big surprise after another.

“Dante,” she said, watching him startle as she called him by name for the first time, “let’s get out of here.”

His upper arm howled in protest, but Dante didn’t care. Pain meant he was alive. As for her attempt to kill him, he’d deal with that soon enough.

She dialed in the alarm code at the back of her building. Amie moved with liquid grace, strong yet undeniably feminine. She was all curves and substance, with large almond-shaped eyes and a lush mouth. But what he really liked was her squared-off chin. It was bold, defiant. Too bad she’d grown from delectable to downright infuriating. She seemed to sense his anger as she opened the door to the storage room.

“Hell-o!” A Kongamato lounged in what looked to be a pit of mud and sticks.

Amie cringed. “Dante, this is Isoke.”

If she was counting on the creature to save her, she was sadly mistaken.

Dante bowed toward the Kongamato. The beast was positively beaming.

“Isoke, this is Dante.”

He showed a double row of teeth. “Charmed, rafiki . She is quite a catch, no?”

She would be, once she understood what was happening. Dante ran a hand down Amie’s back, pleased at the way she stiffened. She might fear him, but she still wanted him.

Isoke launched himself out of the tub, sending sticks and pieces of moss flying. “Would you care for a soak? I was just going to go for a cool-down swim in the Mississippi.” He waggled his brows at them like a proud uncle as he shook a wet leaf from between his toes. “This mud is good for your pores, no? And very romantic.”