Once Haunted, Twice Shy (The Peyton Clark Series Book 2)

  The woman regarded me blankly for a moment, and I realized maybe I’d asked too many questions. “Evil exist ta balance out good,” she said simply, her voice raw and soft. “Whereva ya find good, evil is always lurkin’ jist behind.” She was silent for a moment or two. “When a demon excape from the heat down below, his sole purpose is ta destroy,” she continued. “A demon’s goal is ta cause fear an’ that fear feeds him.”

  “So the reason he killed before was to cause fear in New Orleans?” I asked.

  She nodded. “He did what he programmed ta do. He a destroyer o’ life.”

  “Then why did he suddenly stop killing and wait almost a hundred years to start up again?” I prodded.

  “’Cause the magic of N’awlins is strong,” she answered. “An’ the magic bound him, kept him from continuin’ ta destroy. But like all things, that magic weakened ova the years an’ the demon kept growin’ stronger wif every day that gone by. He sat back an’ waited fer the magic ta fade an’ his own self ta grow stronger, mo’ powerful.”

  “And then once he was stronger than the magic binding him, he made his move,” I finished for her. She merely nodded and then we both fell silent for a few seconds.

  “He comin’ back ta continue his killin’ streak an’ he comin’ fer you,” she finished, her voice echoing through my mind.

  I couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think. I just stared at her as I got the distinct impression that she wanted me to touch her.

  “No,” Drake announced as I reached out and settled my hand on top of hers, feeling the cold weight of the cuff that held her in place. As soon as I touched her, I felt a bolt of energy pulse through me. I heard my own gasp as images began filling my head. It was like watching a film reel on fast-forward, with rapid pictures of people I didn’t know flashing in front of my eyes. The imagery I saw wasn’t pleasant, not by a long shot. There were mounds of bodies littering the streets of New Orleans. One of the offensive visions was of people being bludgeoned by axes. Another showed blood flowing everywhere. I could hear the sounds of people screaming and all hell breaking loose in New Orleans. But most frightening of all, they weren’t images of a long-ago era. Each image in my mind reflected modern-day New Orleans.

  “Many gonna be murdered,” the woman’s voice continued in my mind.

  “How do we stop him?” I asked, shaking my head as the images continued to plague me. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, a visual of the front of my house suddenly interrupted the flow of images in my mind.

  “Release her, ma minette!” Drake demanded. “We have seen enough!”

  “No,” I answered and continued to focus on the images revealing themselves before my eyes. It was like a camera started zooming into my house as I watched in frozen terror. Once inside my house, I recognized my guest bedroom, only there was blood everywhere and a stray axe left on the end of the bed. The bed linens were stained red and strewn around the room, but it was the body on the bed that made my skin crawl.

  “Non, ma minette! I have seen enough!” Drake yelled at me.

  Even though I didn’t want to continue watching, I couldn’t stop the pictures from unfurling in my mind’s eye. The camera lens of my mind continued to hone in on the lump lying on my bed until I recognized my pink sweatpants and what was once my white, long-sleeved thermal T-shirt, now scarlet red. I could see my blond hair matted with blood.

  “Peyton . . .” Drake said, and his voice sounded haunted, pained.

  “He been let out,” the woman continued, her tone of voice now sounding futile. “He been released inta the air. Ain’t no stoppin’ him now.”

  “Released into the air?” I repeated, shaking my head and trying to understand what she meant, at the same time attempting to force the images of my own death from my head.

  “Clear your mind, ma minette!” Drake ground out. “I cannot stomach these images of you still and lifeless. You must clear your head!”

  I focused on emptying the pictures from my mind and heard Drake’s sigh once we were both faced with the blankness of my thoughts.

  Drake sighed. “Now we must understand what she means by the demon being released,” he said.

  “I don’t understand,” I started, focusing on the hapless woman in front of me as I shook my head. “What does it mean that the Axeman, this demon, was released into the air?” I took a deep breath. “How was he released? Who released him?”

  The woman did nothing but incline her head slightly as she seemingly stared right through me. Her hollow brown eyes echoed the answer to my question. I felt my stomach drop as realization dawned through me, causing a bitter taste to crawl up my throat. “We let him out,” I whispered as I shook my head, wishing such hadn’t been the case.

  The woman said nothing but the condemnation in her eyes verified my answer. All of a sudden I was overcome with memories of the time when Christopher and Lovie performed the exorcism on my house. When they had evicted the malevolent spirit of the Axeman, all the windows had blown out.

  I felt my heart stop for a moment and recalled Christopher’s first words after the entity had shattered the windows: “We forced the entity from the house. It is only natural that it blew all the windows to escape.”

  “Oh no,” I heard myself whisper as I continued to shake my head. “We forced it out. We allowed it to escape.”

  The woman nodded slightly. “It been thrivin’, growin’ stronger, gettin’ mo’ powerful.” She was silent for a few seconds. “It been pullin’ energy from the spirits o’ N’awlins. It eatin’ us up ta make isself bigger. Ain’t a thing we can do, neither. Jist lettin’ it swallow us up whole.”

  I figured the fact that the entity was “eating up” the spirits in New Orleans, feeding on them, was the reason why they were all in a flux lately and the reason why Samuel hadn’t been able to make contact with Lovie. The spirits were losing their power.

  I looked closely at the slave woman and felt my eyes widen. “There has to be some way to stop it.”

  She shook her head as far as her restraint collar would allow her. “It too strong ta stop now. N’awlins gonna be a river o’ blood.”

  I shook my head, refusing to accept her prediction. “No, there has to be some way to stop it. Just tell me what I need to do. Tell me how to stop it.”

  I heard the sound of the woman’s laugh echoing through my mind. “Only way ta stop him was ta stop him ’fo’ he got so powerful. You shoulda stopped him when he first made hisself known.”

  “We tried to stop him!” I argued, remembering the exorcism.

  But the woman shook her head emphatically. “No. You shoulda stopped him the first time he made hisself known!”

  I shook my head, not following her. “But the first time he attacked anyone was in 1918,” I said as my voice began to trail. The slave woman just nodded, as if I’d hit the answer right on the head. “You mean stop him by going into the past?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

  “Yesss,” she hissed, her voice now sounding more pained. “The madam comin’,” she explained as her tone of voice became precarious. “She gonna punish me fer talkin’.”

  “Wait, please,” I said, raising my other hand to her wrist. “Please tell me how to stop the Axeman.”

  She brought her face to mine with piercing eyes. “Ya gots ta go back ta the beginnin’, back a century, an’ git rid o’ him. You gotta rid yourself o’ that demon. Then he nevah gonna come back.”

  I nodded as I stood up and backed away from her. She was beginning to grow transparent. I glanced at all the other slaves and realized they, too, were fading. Little by little, the glow of cream-colored paint consumed their outlines. I blinked and found myself facing a white ceiling. Turning to my left, I realized I was back in the Heaven Room. People surrounded me. I blinked another few times and looked around, only to discover I was lying down on a bed.

  “Peyton, you all rig
ht?” Lovie asked as she studied me.

  “What? What happened?” I asked.

  “You passed out,” Ryan answered as I realized he was holding my hand. “You took one step into this room an’ then fainted.”

  “So we put ya on the bed,” Hannah added.

  “Did you make contact?” Lovie asked as my attention returned to her. I nodded and remembered the spirit I’d met. My heart felt heavy. “What did the spirits tell ya, Peyton?” Lovie continued.

  I sighed, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted. “She told me that in order to stop this demon, the Axeman, from killing many people in New Orleans on Tuesday, I have to go back to the beginning and make sure he never escapes into the present.” Of course the woman had also foreseen my own death but that was a detail I didn’t want to share with anyone, mainly because I didn’t want to put that weight on Ryan’s shoulders. I didn’t think it would be fair or right to saddle him with information he could do nothing about. I wanted to spare him the pain because I loved him.

  “What does that even mean?” Ryan demanded.

  “It means,” Christopher answered. “That we need to pay another visit to Guarda.”

  “Guarda?” I repeated, my stomach dropping. “Why?”

  Lovie nodded. “Because she’s the only one I know o’ who can weave a spell that would allow Peyton ta return ta the year 1919 an’ stop the Axeman once an’ fer all.”

  It started to rain by the time we reached Guarda’s hovel. It seemed like whenever a visit to Guarda was in the cards, the heavens themselves wept. I didn’t know why, exactly, but the thought of Guarda always gave me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The depth of my distrust and dislike for her didn’t really make a lot of sense, because it wasn’t as though she’d injured me in any way. If anything, she’d only helped us. So why was it, I wondered, that I couldn’t get rid of the bad taste Guarda left in my mouth?

  “Je suis profondément préoccupé,” Drake started. “I am deeply concerned, ma minette. I do not know what to make of our visit to LaLaurie.”

  “What to make of it?” I responded in a patronizing tone. “I know exactly what to make of it! Tuesday will mean not only my death, but also the deaths of who knows how many people in this city!”

  “Oui,” Drake replied as he cleared his throat. I could just see him giving me that frown that meant he didn’t appreciate my sarcastic tone. “It is also a well-known fact, mon chaton, that spirits usually tend to exaggerate and many can be accused of outright lying.”

  “Well, in this instance, I think it’s better to err on the safe side and suppose the spirit from the LaLaurie Mansion was telling us the truth,” I replied, figuring there was really no other alternative. As far as I was concerned, disregarding the spirit’s advice might result in our own peril.

  “Oui,” Drake said again. “I believe we are stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place, mon chaton. I do not know which direction we should turn.”

  “I think we’re going in the right direction,” I answered, and sincerely hoped I was right. “Now I have to focus, Drake,” I finished as I glanced around the darkness of Guarda’s house, trying to avoid getting creeped out by it.

  “Oui,” he responded.

  As to Guarda’s, the one thing that provided some relief was that I wasn’t alone—Ryan and Lovie came with me. Lovie insisted that Christopher remain in Ryan’s truck, apparently because she worried Guarda wouldn’t help us if Christopher was present. I made a mental note to myself to ask Lovie just what the situation was between the hostile warlock and Guarda. For now, though, my attention was reserved for more impending subjects.

  For one, I found it uncanny and off-putting that Guarda’s attention hadn’t shifted from Ryan once since he’d walked through her front door. Lovie and I might as well not have been there for the amount of attention she paid us.

  “Ahem,” Ryan cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with Guarda’s scrutiny. We’d just finished telling her about our trip to the LaLaurie Mansion, and the ensuing trouble that was predicted on Tuesday.

  “Tell Guarda the rest o’ what the spirit tol’ ya, honey,” Lovie suggested.

  “Um,” I started, finding it difficult to engage Guarda while she was so blatantly staring at Ryan. “The spirit said that New Orleans would be a river of blood on Tuesday if we failed to go back to 1919 and stop the Axeman demon. Apparently, he needs to be destroyed or exorcised, or whatever it is you do to a demon to permanently eradicate it. And all of it must happen back in 1919, before he can travel to present times,” I explained, shaking my head, not even really comprehending what my words meant. Time travel? I didn’t even know how that was possible, even with voodoo hoodoo magic.

  Guarda nodded although she continued to watch Ryan. For someone who didn’t appreciate strangers, she could’ve fooled me. “You gotta name?” she asked him at last, eyeing him directly. Apparently, everything I just said went in one ear and out the other without so much as a nod of acknowledgment.

  “Kelly, ma’am. Ryan Kelly,” he answered with a hesitant smile as he held out his hand to her in his true Southern, genteel way.

  Guarda glanced at his large hand and took it, but did not shake it. Instead, she ran the pads of her fingers over his palm as she closed her eyes and her mouth twitched. Ryan swallowed hard and glanced over at me with a dumbfounded expression at which I just shrugged, as if to say I didn’t have any answers for him. Meanwhile, Guarda ran her fingers up his wrist and farther still until she reached the junction where his lower arm met his upper one.

  “Yes, you’ll do,” she said, and Ryan frowned at her, obviously not comprehending her meaning. “Ya got the blood o’ the South in yer veins,” she continued, lisping since both her front teeth were missing.

  Ryan looked down at her and nodded as he eluded her grip and she dropped her arm back to her side. “I’m born an’ raised in N’awlins,” he said as he came to stand beside me.

  Lovie cleared her throat and shifted her weight from one hip to the other, obviously uncomfortable with the bizarre situation. “Guarda, did ya hear what Peyton said?” she asked hurriedly.

  Guarda threw Lovie a scowl. “’Course I heard! Mah ears are workin’ fine, woman!” Then she faced Ryan again and studied him, her cloudy eyes narrowing. “How ya feel ’bout ’nother man bein’ inside yer woman?”

  I could hear Drake’s chuckle inside my head as my mouth dropped open. I watched Ryan’s eyebrows meet in the middle and it occurred to me that Guarda must have been referring to Drake. “I, uh, I think she’s talking about Drake,” I said quickly, afraid Ryan’s temper was about to emerge.

  “What does that have to do—” Ryan started, shaking his head with a perturbed expression.

  “Jist answer the question,” Guarda interrupted as she crossed her arms over her flat chest.

  “I don’t like it,” Ryan said with a tight jaw before he settled his eyes on her. “Now can we move on to the reason we’re here?”

  Guarda just stared at him for a few more seconds before she sighed and dropped her attention to her hands, nodding. She glanced up at me and her eyes seemed to harden. “You gonna be dead come Tuesday.”

  “What?” Ryan yelled as he took a few steps toward her, his anger evident in his voice. I immediately stepped in front of him and held my palm against his chest, trying to calm him. I hadn’t exactly told him everything the spirit woman at the LaLaurie Mansion had told me concerning what awaited us on Tuesday. Now it was coming back to bite me in the ass, thanks to Guarda.

  “Maybe, but maybe not,” I said, taking a deep breath as I faced Ryan. “Yes, Tuesday is going to be unpleasant,” I started. Ryan frowned at my use of the word “unpleasant.” “Unless I can return to 1919 and get rid of the Axeman first.”

  “Is that what the spirit told you?” Ryan demanded in a hushed tone, his eyes begging me to refute the information. I just nodd
ed.

  “Riddin’ yerself of a demon ain’t no easy feat,” Guarda announced.

  “We need yer help,” Lovie said, taking a few steps toward the older woman. “Whateva payment you got in mind,” she started.

  “I already got mah payment,” Guarda lashed out as she turned to face me before her gaze rested on Ryan again. I didn’t know why but I had the distinct feeling that Ryan was of much interest to Guarda. Yes, she appeared to be taken with him but there was something more to it than that. She was looking at him like I imagined the witch had looked at Hansel and Gretel.

  “Okay,” I said, as I reached over and took Ryan’s hand, feeling strangely protective of him. As to Guarda mentioning payment, I was confused. Hopefully she simply meant that Lovie had already paid her more than enough cash, something which I was more than sure I would be billed for later. I could only hope, however, it was as simple as that.

  “I haven’t paid ya anythin’, Guarda,” Lovie said suspiciously.

  “I been paid in other ways,” Guarda snapped as her lips parted into something that almost resembled a smile—aimed at Ryan. “I helps ya.”

  “I still don’t understand what all this talk about returnin’ to 1919 is all about,” Ryan started, alternating his gaze between Lovie and me. Apparently, Drake and I weren’t the only ones who were confused. “That sounds like crazy talk.”

  “The last time ’fore now that the demon made hisself known was 1919. It was the last time he spilt blood,” Guarda said with a shrug, like the answer was obvious.

  “It’s not possible to go back in time,” I said, recoiling at my own words even as I uttered them.

  “Ain’t nothin’ impossible in the spirit world,” Guarda retorted as she turned her back on us and hobbled into her kitchen. She started opening her cabinets and pulling items out that I couldn’t see, given how dark her house was.

  “The spirit world doesn’t recanize time,” Lovie explained. “Time doesn’t exist in the spiritual plane like in our world. Time simply stands still, which is how spirits can exist in our time an’ think they’re back in their own time. As far as they know, their world is unchanged—everythin’ remains as it always was ta them.”