I nodded. “Uh-huh. At least, that was what Celeste called him—I could never see his face for some reason.”
“No one can—he uses an obscuring spell.” Gwendolyn frowned. “There’s been a lot of speculation about that—about why he wants to hide. Nobody really even knows who he is.”
“I wonder what happened to him,” I said. “I’m pretty sure Victor didn’t kill him.”
“No, he would have woven an even stronger protection spell around himself than he did around the hill,” Gwendolyn said thoughtfully. “Although why he didn’t stay and try to help Celeste I don’t know.”
“He didn’t like her,” I said. “In fact, I think he kind of hated her. Well, she did have a way of rubbing people the wrong way.”
“Yeah, just slightly,” Gwendolyn said sarcastically. “What with being a complete bitch willing to kill anyone at any time, for any reason. That kind of thing tends to piss people off.”
I laughed. “Right. But about Shadowlock…you think he just slipped off?”
Gwendolyn shrugged. “Seems the most likely thing. I haven’t felt any of his magic signature around here, anyway. Which is good—it would drive Grams crazy to have a dark magic practitioner so close to our territory.”
“What would drive me crazy?”
We both turned abruptly to see an older woman with nut brown skin and pure white hair standing in the hall behind us. She was holding a small suitcase in one hand and a carry-on bag in the other.
“Grams!” Gwendolyn ran to her and pulled her into an affectionate hug. “You’re home early! I thought your plane didn’t get in until tomorrow.”
“I took an earlier one.” The old woman sighed and dropped her bags. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there. You know, these conferences get longer every year?”
“I bet. Grams, this is Taylor. I’ve been, uh, helping her while you were gone.”
I had an idea that Gwendolyn’s grandmother probably wouldn't approve of the way she'd been “helping” me at all so I decided to keep my mouth shut on the subject.
“Nice to meet you,” I said politely, holding out my hand.
“Nice to meet you too, child.” Gwendolyn’s grandmother held out her hand as well but just then, my stomach chose that moment to emit a long, angry growl.
“Oh, excuse me!” I put a hand to my midsection, my cheeks getting hot with embarrassment. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Ever since I started eating solid food again it seems like I’m always hungry.”
The old lady’s wrinkled face broke into a warm smile.
“Now then, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” she said, taking my hand anyway. “You’re just hungry and that’s perfectly normal when you’re pregnant.”
“What?” Gwendolyn and I said at the same time.
“You heard me.” Gwendolyn’s grandmother smiled and patted my abdomen. “You’re pregnant, child. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t know?”
“Oh, I…” I shook my head. “I just, I didn’t think it was possible. I mean, it’s not possible.” I looked at Gwendolyn. “Is it?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I would have said no but this is one thing Grams always knows about. She’s one hundred percent accurate. If she says you’re pregnant, it doesn’t matter how impossible it is—you’re pregnant.”
“But…but…”
“If you’re worried about the baby, don’t be.” The old lady smiled at me and patted my tummy gently. “She’s a healthy baby girl and she’s going to be just fine."
"A…a little girl?" My hands started to shake and I felt dizzy. "A girl?" I repeated but my voice sounded like it was coming from far away."
"Easy there!" Gwendolyn grabbed me just as I started to tilt sideways. "I know it's surprising but don't faint."
"My dream…I had a dream," I babbled. "I dreamed Victor and I were walking along the beach and we had a little girl with dark hair and brown eyes."
"Well, that sounds just about right," Gwendolyn's grandmother said, smiling. "Like I said, child, she's going to be just fine. As long as you feed her, that is,” she added when my stomach growled again. “What would you like to eat?”
“Oh, I couldn’t impose—” I began but Gwendolyn interrupted.
“When Taylor was here the other night she had some of your homemade pickles, Grams. I bet she’d love some more.”
The old lady beamed and reached for her bag and suitcase. “That’s good to hear. I made more than I should this year so we’ve got plenty to spare. Just let me put my things down in my room and I’ll get you some.”
“Well, sure. Thank you,” I said lamely, partly because I felt faint with hunger and partly because Gwendolyn was standing behind her grandmother and making signs for me to go along with everything.
The minute the older lady passed us and went on down the hall, she grabbed my arm and steered me into the living room.
“Don’t say anything,” she hissed. “Grams would not be happy if she knew what I’ve been up to while she’s gone.”
“I didn’t think she would. Don’t worry—I’ll keep it to myself,” I said. “Are you going to get in trouble if she finds out?”
“She’s not going to find out,” Gwendolyn said grimly. “Not if you can sit here and make small talk and eat pickles while I go clear up the work room. Can you do that?”
“Sure…I guess so.” I nodded, feeling dazed. “Sorry, I’m still just…I don’t know what to think about what she said. About me being, you know…”
“Knocked up?” Gwendolyn grinned at me. “Good thing you and Victor are so happy together. How do you think he’s going to take the news?”
“Fine.” I smiled at her. “I’m sure he’s going to be fine. It’s unexpected but…but so wonderful. I never thought I could have kids after I got turned. And I’ve always wanted them.”
“Yeah, you seem like the domestic type.” She grinned at me and gave me a quick, hard hug. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I hugged her back and then looked at her. “But are you sure you’re going to be okay? I mean, with everything you did for me—the risk you took? I’m sorry, I just have to ask one more time before your grandmother comes back.”
I saw that look of unease flit across her face once more but again she hid it really well.
“I’ll be fine, honestly,” she said. “And the best thing is that I finally got Laish out of my life. Looks like we’ve both got something to celebrate today.”
“Right.” I tried to smile at her but despite my cautious joy at my own good news, I couldn’t help being worried about Gwendolyn. What was going to happen to her? Was she really safe? And was Laish really out of her life forever?
I didn’t know…but I had a feeling I was going to find out in the very near future…
The End
Coming soon, don’t miss Ruby Shadows, the third book in the Born to Darkness series.
Nothing is for free when it comes to demons…a fact that Gwendolyn LaRoux finds out the hard way when she summons Laish, a minor demon from the Shadow Lands to help her cook up a little black magic. Unfortunately black magic has a way of growing and soon Gwendolyn finds herself drowning in darkness. Still, she’s determined to clean up her own mess. But when a creature from the Abyss enters our world and threatens her beloved grandmother, Gwendolyn has to admit she needs help—which means summoning the infuriating Laish, even though she swore never to call on him again.
Answering Gwendolyn’s incantations in a moment of boredom was a mistake for a demon who keeps what little heart he has left under lock and key. Laish immediately fell for the Creole beauty with jade green eyes and creamy, café au lait skin and now he’s determined to have her—no matter what the cost. And thanks to Gwendolyn’s sticky dilemma, the price just went up.
When it turns out that the intrepid witch must travel through the Shadow Lands and close the door she left open to the Pit, she knows at once she can’t make the dangerous journey on her own. Of course Laish is more than willin
g to act as her escort and bodyguard…for a not-so-small fee. Gwendolyn doesn’t want to use her body as a bargaining chip but the lustful demon will accept no other form of currency. And since her grandmother’s life is at stake, she has no choice. Little by little she must give in to his demands.
As Gwendolyn and Laish travel further and further into the interior of Hell, will he be able to keep her safe? And will she be able to keep her innocence? Or with they lose themselves and each other among the… Ruby Shadows?
Excerpt from Shadowed: Brides of the Kindred book 8 coming this fall
Chapter Two
Nina Kerrick sighed as she dusted the glass case containing the brightly colored Seminole dolls and the display of sweetgrass coiled baskets. Moving methodically but quickly, she cleaned the rest of the exhibits and straightened the stacks of brochures located near the front of the small tribal museum attached to the Hard Rock Casino. The museum didn’t pay much but she only worked there two or three times a week. She loved being surrounded by the fascinating history of the Seminole Tribe even though she was only half Native American on her mother’s side.
Her father was Welsh and the resulting combination gave Nina an exotic look with high cheekbones and warm copper-tan skin. She also had long, straight black hair with reddish highlights but it was her deep blue eyes, so unexpected in one with her coloring, that drew the most attention. Nina liked her looks but she wished she had inherited a smaller behind—her big hips and bottom were a constant source of consternation but no matter how hard she worked and dieted, they never really got any smaller.
She moved to the small gift shop area, swiftly straightening the array of handmade items—the patchwork vests and jackets, the pillows, potholders, and ornaments, as well as the miniature dolls attached to key chains. Crafted of palmetto husk fiber and adorned in brightly-colored traditional skirt and capes, the doll key chains were by far the best seller. Every woman who nagged her husband or boyfriend away from the gaming tables for a second had to have one.
The small space was straightened and ready for the next day’s patrons—mostly bored gamblers who trickled in from time to time from the casino next door. It was time for Nina to go. She barely had time to run through the drive through and get Mehoo-Jimmy her favorite fast food burger before she had to be at her night job as a therapist at Massage Envy in South Tampa.
She paused in front of a framed black and white photograph depicting a Seminole woman from 1910. The picture was part of the Camera-man exhibit, taken by renowned photographer Julian Dimock. The photographs he’d taken revealed fascinating details of Seminole Indian life deep in the interior of the Florida Everglades back at a time when few whites dared to venture so far.
The woman in the picture caught and held Nina’s eye not because of her historical significance but because of what she wore—strands and strands of glass beads woven around her neck. Not just a few either—the woman was wearing literally hundreds of strands, so many that they started just under her chin, covered her entire neck, and dripped down the front of her breasts. Their weight must have been enormous but the woman stood straight and strong, staring into the camera with an unyielding look in her dark eyes.
Nina didn’t need a degree in Native American studies to tell her why the woman wore so many beads. In the past it had been a matter of pride—of status—for Seminole women. The beads were an outward exhibition of their wealth and worth, not just received as gifts but bought with the money they made themselves, selling hand crafted baskets, blankets, dolls and anything else they could make. Seminole women would wear the beads, only taking them off at night, even though the immense weight of them eventually led to severe back and shoulder problems. It was a matter of pride to keep them on and more than once a female who slipped accidentally into the river was drowned because of the great weight around her neck.
“So heavy,” Nina murmured, staring at the woman from over a hundred years ago. “How did you carry that weight day in and day out? How did you keep standing so straight?”
Her own weight to bear was nothing so tangible as hundreds of strands of glass beads but Nina still felt it pulling her down. It was the dreams, of course—they were like an anchor tied around her neck. If she didn’t stop having them soon, they would drown her as surely as the Seminole women, too proud to take off their necklaces, had drowned in the swamps of the Everglades. And like a woman adding strand after strand of beads, the dreams kept getting worse until she woke up every night in a cold sweat, feeling like she might be sick.
“It’s going to be all right,” Nina told herself bravely. She lifted her chin. “Everybody has weird dreams once in awhile.” Except these dreams had been happening for months. At first they were no big deal but lately…
Stop thinking about it! You’re only making it worse. And anyway, it’s time to go.
Nina glanced down at her watch and gave a low curse. It was past time to be getting out of here.
Flipping off the light switch, she locked up the small museum and ran for her car, parked at the far end of the employee lot. The hot Florida sun beat down on her but Nina was used to it. She slid into her little hatchback, barely noticing that the interior was like an oven. The heat she could handle—it was the few cold days a year that got to her. Luckily, living in Tampa, those days were few and far between so she was generally pretty comfortable.
She went through the drive through and got a double cheeseburger for Mehoo-Jimmy and a chocolate shake for herself from the dollar menu. It was a small splurge since she was trying to save every penny to go back to school but after the particularly bad dream she’d had the night before, Nina decided she deserved it.
I just need to let the dreams go, she told herself as she sipped the shake and drove toward Mehoo-Jimmy’s little bungalow. Need to forget about them and just breathe.
Pulling up in front of the little green house, she saw that Mehoo-Jimmy was sitting out on the front porch, petting one of her many cats and probably humming to herself. Sure enough, when she got out of the car, Nina could hear the soft, wordless crooning that was surprisingly tuneful drifting through the air. It was this soft sound that had comforted her after the death of her mother, when Mehoo-Jimmy held her and whispered that all was not lost, that she would see her again some day on the other side.
Nina had only been twelve when her mother had died of breast cancer and Mehoo-Jimmy had taken her under her wing and protected her when Nina’s father was out trying to drown his grief in whiskey and gambling. In some ways, he had never gotten over her mother’s death—or at least that was the excuse he always gave when he came home drunk or lost his paycheck at the craps table.
But Nina didn’t want to think about her father now. She ran lightly up the path to the tiny pea green bungalow, the white paper sack with the cheeseburger crinkling cheerfully.
“Mehoo, how are you?” She took the porch steps in two bounds and bent to kiss the soft cheek, wrinkled with age. As always Mehoo-Jimmy smelled of baby powder and the herbs she grew in her garden out back.
“Hello, eecho.” The affectionate name meant “little deer” in Miccosukee, one of the Seminole dialects. The old woman gave her a wide smile, revealing teeth too white and even to be anything but false. “What you doing here? Don’t you have to be at that Greedy Massage place?”
“It’s Massage Envy and I have a few minutes. Thought I’d bring you lunch.” Nina handed her the bag and pulled up a wicker chair to sit beside her. “So how are things?”
“Not bad, not bad. Except…” The old woman frowned at her. “I got a worried feeling about you, eecho. Early this morning when I first woke. Are you all right?’
“I’m fine, Mehoo.” Nina shifted uncomfortably under her adopted grandmother’s ancient stare.
“Tell the truth to your mehoo.” The old woman spoke sternly though her eyes were gentle. “I can tell when something is on your mind.”
“I had another dream,” Nina said, looking down at her hands. “A dream about the m
an…the man whose face I couldn’t see.”
As she spoke the half-remembered dream came back with a force that left her feeling uneasy and anxious. Sometimes in the dreams, it seemed the man needed her help. Other times she felt he was coming for her for some dark and terrible reason. But in all the dreams he was so big and his face was always shadowed…
“A man who hides his face? Hmm…” Mehoo-Jimmy hummed thoughtfully as she unwrapped the burger Nina had brought her. “That’s not good child. He sounds like a bear.”
“He could be, I guess,” Nina admitted, frowning. “He’s huge—as big as a bear, anyway.”
“When a spirit animal comes to you in a dream, you need to listen. What does he want, this bear?”
“I don’t know.” Nina raised her hands helplessly. “He never speaks and I can never see his face—just these strange, glowing eyes like he’s hiding somehow.”
“Dreaming of a bear means fever coming,” Mehoo-Jimmy announced. “A fever you can’t put out with water alone.”
About the Author
Evangeline Anderson is a registered MRI tech who would rather be writing. And yes, she is nerdy enough to have a bumper sticker that says “I’d rather be writing.” Honk if you see her! She is thirty-something and lives in Florida with a husband, a son, and two cats. She had been writing erotic fiction for her own gratification for a number of years before it occurred to her to try and get paid for it. To her delight, she found that it was actually possible to get money for having a dirty mind and she has been writing paranormal and Sci-fi erotica steadily ever since.