Kiss of Temptation

  Then they’d both retired to the back porch with the requisite sweet tea in hand to watch dusk come over the bayou. The only sounds were of crickets and an occasional growl from Useless, plus the creaking of their rocking chairs. It was such a peaceful place, and yet dangerous at the same time.

  Suddenly, Tante Lulu said, “Holy crawfish! Who’s that?”

  “Huh?” Gabrielle turned to see a tall man in a dark suit with a white shirt and light blue tie making his way around the side of the house.

  “Lordy, Lordy, he’s almost as good-lookin’ as Tee-John.”

  On closer examination, Gabrielle noticed his short blond hair, light blue eyes, and Nordic features. Another vangel? Yep, that was a white angel wing design against the sky-blue background on his tie.

  “Mebbe he’s one of yer bodyguards.”

  “What bodyguards?”

  “Ain’t you noticed the two men who watch the cottage and follow ever’where you go? Ivak tol’ me they’s yer guards.”

  “Why didn’t you mention it before?” Why didn’t Ivak mention it?

  “I thought you knew. Blessed Mary! I’m eighty years old and I see ’em jist fine. Mebbe you need eyeglasses.”

  If she’s eighty, I’m ten, and this nightmare I’m living never happened. But guards? That was another bone she had to pick with Ivak. Would the man never stop interfering in her life?

  Turns out the answer was no.

  “Are you Gabrielle Sonnier?” Mr. Suit said, walking up the back steps.

  She nodded dumbly. Tante Lulu was right. This guy was sinfully handsome. Well, if he was in fact a vangel, sinfully would not be an appropriate description. Heavenly handsome, then.

  “I am,” she said, standing. She had to look up at him when she spoke. The guy had to be six foot five, or more.

  The man stretched out a hand, the one not holding a briefcase, to Gabrielle. She noticed there was a gold ring on his right middle finger, similar to one Ivak wore with a winged emblem on it. Next he shook hands with Tante Lulu, who had stopped rocking and was staring up at him like he was Richard Simmons . . . or St. Jude. After that, he handed Gabrielle a business card and said, “I’m Thor Robertsson from the law firm of Robertsson, Johnsson, and Olafsson in Baton Rouge.”

  “And you’re here because . . . ?”

  “I’ve come to help you prepare for your brother’s legal proceedings,” he said. “Didn’t you know I was coming?”

  She frowned with confusion.

  “Jarl Ivak Sigurdsson sent me.”

  “Whass a jarl?” Tante Lulu asked.

  “Something like an earl,” he explained, then turned back to Gabrielle. “Did Ivak forget to tell you?”

  “Yep. It must have slipped his mind.” Yeah, right. He knew what her reaction would be to his interfering once again without informing her first. Not that she wouldn’t welcome all the help she could get. She’d just like to be consulted first.

  No sooner did Thor arrive than another hottie lawyer came on the scene. This time it was Lucien LeDeux. Didn’t matter that he was in his late forties and had silver threads in his black hair, this Cajun attorney was ten kinds of sexy. He wore a suit, too, but his tie was undone, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt were unbuttoned. The end of his workday, Gabrielle presumed. Whether he was there at Ivak’s or Tante Lulu’s invitation was unclear, and at this point didn’t matter.

  He shook hands with Thor, leaned down to kiss Tante Lulu, and winked at Gabrielle when his aunt introduced him as her “rascal nephew,” as if he were a little boy.

  They went inside to the kitchen, where Thor spread out a bunch of papers, and Gabrielle spread out some of her own, on top of which Tante Lulu had prepared a plate for the Viking and Luc, insisting they had to eat. The men, who at first said they weren’t hungry, ate two platefuls, and they even finished their banana puddings, which was more than Gabrielle had been able to do.

  “First off, I think we should plan on a new trial, instead of a parole board hearing or a plea for clemency,” Thor said.

  “Why?” Gabrielle asked.

  “You’ve already tried the parole board route, chère, and I haven’t seen any welcome home parades yet,” Luc said, not unkindly. “Getting a parole, or clemency, in Loo-zee-anna is iffy. Too many people to bribe, or threaten.”

  He grinned at that last statement. Gabrielle would have thought Thor would object, but he grinned, too.

  “We likes ta call it lagniappe here in the South,” Tante Lulu added as she poured more sweet tea for them all. “Nothin’ illegal. Jist a little somethin’ extra ta sweeten the pot.”

  “Definitely nothing illegal,” Luc said, and waggled his eyebrows at his aunt.

  She smacked him on the arm with a St. Jude dish towel.

  “If Hebert recants his testimony, it’s the most logical route, anyhow,” Thor went on. “You want your brother exonerated, Gabrielle. Not just pardoned or paroled, right?”

  “Well, yes, but Hebert hasn’t stepped to the plate yet. If he is able to step up, that is. Last word was, he’s bedridden at the Angola hospital.”

  “He will,” Thor said with more assurance than she felt. Maybe it was a vangel kind of insight thing. She hoped so.

  After two hours of working with Thor and Luc, Gabrielle had to admit she was impressed. They brought up precedents that she hadn’t considered, and Luc mentioned a way of them getting a judge who would be more favorable to Leroy.

  “A vangel?” she asked.

  “No, but there’s a rotation in that particular court. If we time our request for retrial just right, we might get the one we want.” After taking a sip of his tea, Luc added, “What’s a vangel?”

  “Never mind,” she and Thor said as one, but Tante Lulu piped in with “Ivak Sigurdsson, that preacher over at the prison, he’s an angel.”

  “Okaaaay,” Luc said, obviously not surprised that his aunt would come out with such an outlandish statement. After all, she’d been talking to St. Jude for decades. Gabrielle and Thor felt no need to enlighten Luc on the distinction between angel and vangel.

  Before Thor and Luc left, they agreed to meet with her again once Hebert recanted . . . something Gabrielle was beginning to think of as a certainty now that Thor had seemed so positive.

  So she was in a good mood when she got ready for bed later and her cell phone rang. It was Ivak.

  She was no longer upset with him over his “hiring” a lawyer, or lawyers, to help her now that she’d talked with the men. Still . . . “Ivak, you have to stop trying to control my life.”

  “What have I done now?”

  “Thor Robertsson ring any bells? Or Luc ‘The Swamp Solicitor’ LeDeux?”

  “Ah,” was all he said. “You can blame me for Thor, but Tante Lulu must have called LeDeux.”

  “I figured.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Wonderful.” She explained everything that she and the other two lawyers had discussed.

  “So, my sending Thor was a good thing?”

  “Yes, but you should have asked me first.”

  “I’ll try harder,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You’re rolling your eyes, aren’t you?”

  “Busted.” She laughed.

  “I love to hear you laugh. You don’t do it often enough.”

  “I haven’t had much cause to . . . until lately.” She paused. “Thank you.”

  “Could you repeat that? I might have misheard.”

  “You heard all right. I hate to admit it, but I feel much more hopeful about Leroy’s prospects since I met you.”

  “And are you hopeful about anything else?”

  “Are you fishing for a compliment?”

  “A compliment would not come amiss.”

  “Why did you call, Ivak?”

  “I just wanted to hear your voice. We didn’t have much chance to talk after the auditions today.”

  “Has everything settled down at the prison?”

  “Well, th
e news media is gone . . . for now. Hopefully, unless something major happens, we vangels here should be able to handle the situation, God willing and Mike in a good mood.”

  “And St. Jude,” she reminded him.

  “Him too.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “How’s the talent show coming?”

  “Surprisingly well. Tante Lulu is beyond barmy betimes, but she and her family have helped me so much. We might even be able to pull this crap shoot event off.”

  “Funny you should say that. Tante Lulu has helped me, too. I can’t tell you how much staying here with her has changed my perspective on so many things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Family.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Someday I would like you to meet my family.”

  “I thought I already had.”

  “Pfff! Hardly. I have four other brothers you have never met and then there is all my extended family. I am rolling my eyes here, Gabrielle.”

  “Why?”

  “There are more than five hundred of us.”

  “You mean all the vangels? You consider them family?”

  “Definitely. It’s hard not to become close to those who share centuries and centuries with you. A secret society we are. Like a family.”

  She yawned, louder than she intended.

  “You are tired.”

  “It’s been a long day.”

  “I will see you on Saturday,” he reminded her. “Wear something sexy.”

  “I don’t own anything sexy.”

  “You could always borrow something from Charmaine.”

  “You’d really like me to wear such slutty clothes?”

  “Are you serious? I am a man.” He laughed. “Just wear something with no undergarments.”

  She paused for a moment, then said, “You too.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  Just before he hung up, she heard his low masculine chuckle and he drawled out, slow and sexy, “Sweet dreams, sweetling.”

  That’s what she was afraid of.

  Fifteen

  Yes, Virginia, miracles do happen . . .

  Ivak was at the bedside of Edward Hebert as he lay dying, and the inmate still had not recanted his lie that had convicted Leroy Sonnier. The lemon scent of a sin taint was heavy in the room. A priest had been called to give him last rites. Whether the holy man would arrive in time was not certain.

  Before coming inside, Ivak had killed two Lucies hovering about, waiting for an opportunity to enter the man’s room when no one was around. He couldn’t worry about the stinksome slime that would be found in a hospital corridor or outside the building. Besides, convicts were always depositing unusual objects and substances about the place, to the chagrin of prison maintenance crews. Luckily, ever since Ivak had first suspected a Lucipire presence inside Angola, he’d taken to carrying specially treated throwing stars and knives in his footwear and under his belt.

  Leaning over Hebert now, Ivak whispered, “Edward. Edward, can you hear me?”

  Hebert’s eyes open slowly. “I know who you are,” he said, licking his dry lips. “You’re Sonnier’s friend.”

  Ivak put a glass straw to Hebert’s mouth so he could drink.

  “I am your friend, too,” Ivak said. “In fact, I have been sent to you by another friend.”

  Hebert arched his brows, and Ivak could tell that even that movement caused him pain. Death was very close.

  Quickly, Ivak showed his fangs to Hebert and concentrated on his back, hoping his hazy blue wing image would be visible. At Hebert’s gasp, he assumed he’d succeeded.

  “Who . . . are . . . you?” Hebert whispered.

  He explained everything and asked if he could remove the sin taint. “I won’t touch you without your permission.”

  “How?” the dying man gasped out, his strength waning by the second.

  “I will fang your neck and suck out the bad blood. You will notice a change immediately.”

  “And then?”

  “Remember the Lord’s admonition: Thou shalt not bear false witness. I am hoping that when you are in a state of grace, or leastways not in a state of good-be-damned, you will recant your lie against Leroy Sonnier and—”

  Hebert was about to say something, but Ivak held up a halting hand so that he could finish.

  “—then when you die, you may go to a better place. Presuming that you not only are sorry for your past sins, but that you do not continue with a current sin. You know which one I mean, don’t you?”

  “Yeah? What if I don’t say nuthin’?”

  “You will go to Hell.” Betimes bluntness was the only way. “Unless the demon vampires get to you first, in which case you will go to a far worse place than Hell.”

  Hebert still looked skeptical.

  “If I cleanse you, and if you repent your sins, you may go to Purgatory. At least there you have a chance for Heaven, sometime.”

  “What the fuck is Purgatory?”

  “You could say it’s a holding cell. A very large holding cell that I am told is a pleasant place. Until the Final Judgment.”

  “Oh, what the hell! Do it,” Hebert gasped out. “What . . . have I . . . got . . . to lose?”

  And so, Ivak locked the door and did the quickest sin cleansing he’d ever done, fearing the family would want to come back in.

  When he was done, Hebert looked up at him. His whole demeanor had changed, of course. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You’re not done yet.” Ivak unlocked the door and told the guard, “Bring some witnesses in here. Mr. Hebert has a statement to make.” Luckily, Thor had sent him legal documents days ago.

  The convict died an hour later.

  When Ivak left the hospital, he went immediately to the Cypress Dorm, where he killed another Lucie. He asked the guard for entry so that he could speak to Leroy.

  “Are you kidding? It’s two a.m.”

  “I need to speak to him. Now.”

  “Come back tomorrow. With all the new security measures, I’ll have a ton of paperwork to do, even if you are staff. What’s so important, anyhow?”

  “It’s personal. Do I really need to call the warden to get his okay? You know how he hates to have his sleep interrupted. If I recall correctly, the last guard who did that got demoted to latrine duty.”

  The guard said a foul word but he let Ivak in.

  Ivak tugged Leroy to the far end of the dorm, motioning for Svein to stand back and watch that no one overheard.

  On seeing Ivak, the blood left Leroy’s face. “What . . . what’s happened? Is it Gabby? Oh God! Was there an . . . accident?”

  “No, no, she’s fine,” Ivak assured him, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s Hebert. He died a little while ago.”

  “Dammit! It’s too late then.”

  “Oh, you of little faith.” He smiled at Leroy.

  Understanding seemed to dawn on Leroy, slowly. “I hope that shit-eating grin on your face means what I think it does.”

  “It does. Hebert repented and recanted. More important, he signed an affidavit to that effect with witnesses present.”

  “It’s a miracle.” Tears filled Leroy’s eyes as his mind worked to assimilate all the implications. “What does it mean?”

  “It means you’ve passed an important hurdle. It doesn’t mean you’re free . . . yet.”

  “But there’s hope now, right?”

  “Oh, Leroy, there was always hope.”

  Sometimes there is heaven on earth . . .

  It was very late when Ivak finally entered his cell room and fell like a rock onto the bed. What a day!

  As late as it was, he would have liked to call Gabrielle and give her the good news, but he decided that Leroy should be the one to do that. After all that Leroy and his sister had been through, it would be a memorable moment.

  He, on the other hand, wanted to be in the warden’s office first thing in the morning to present Hebert’s dying affidavit. That, too, would be a memorable
moment.

  With a long, wide-mouthed yawn, he fell asleep.

  And dreamed. Again! What would it be this time? Modern times, or the old Norselands?

  It was neither of those.

  Heaven’s End truly was Heaven’s End, Ivak thought as he rode his horse up the wide allée of live oak trees to the gleaming white mansion.

  A horse? Vikings don’t ride horses. Now, longships, that is a different story.

  Good fjord! That plantation house looks just like Tara from Gone with the Wind. Does that make me Rhett Butler coming home from the war? Did the Civil War even occur yet? Probably not.

  He chuckled. In a dream, no less.

  But wait. If he was Rhett, maybe there would be a Scarlett.

  Being a vangel meant lots of spare time between saving sinners and catching Lucies. One of the ways they passed the time back at the castle in Transylvania was to watch old movies. While he preferred movies like Saving Private Ryan, or We Were Soldiers, he’d seen that Southern classic at least five times.

  But he digressed. In a dream, no less.

  He was doing just fine riding his horse, clip-clop, up the road, but then he glanced forward. There was a woman standing on the front gallery. Waiting for him? Yes, she must be Scarlett. At her first sight of him, she let out a shriek of happiness and began to run down the wide center steps leading down to the front driveway. Not an easy task with the hooped skirt of her long gown.

  It was Gabrielle, of course. But a Gabrielle that he’d never seen or ever imagined. Her dark hair was a mass of ringlets pulled off her face and cascading down her back. She wore a short-sleeved, pale green gown of some lightweight fabric, embroidered with flowers along the edges that left most of her arms and parts of her shoulders bare.

  He’d no sooner dismounted and tied the reins of his horse to the hitching post than Gabrielle launched herself at him, kissing his face and neck, even his ears, the whole time laughing and weeping. “I missed you so much. Two whole days! Don’t go away again.”

  He smiled. “I had to go to the mercantile in N’awlins to sell our sugar. You know that, darlin’.” Good heavens, I even have a Southern drawl. He nuzzled her neck and relished the smell of her fresh, clean skin. Like roses and musk, it was. He’d recognize her in a crowd by that scent alone. It was the woman scent that had drawn him to her before their marriage.