Cush felt a nudge on his elbow and looked over at Oakley. He’d been quiet since they had started their journey to the airport, only speaking when he had a specific question. Cush knew he had to be worried about his sister, but he had no fake words to placate him with.
“I don’t think that armrest can take much more before it cracks,” he said motioning to the armrest in question.
Cush looked down to find his hand clenched around the plastic so tight that his knuckles had turned white. He quickly released it and flexed his fingers several times. “Thanks.”
Oakley nodded. “Whatever her reason for doing this, it means something has to be wrong. Elora doesn’t abandon those she cares for.”
Cush closed his eyes briefly, picturing her face in his mind. It only made his gut clench tighter. “I know and I’m not sure if that reassures me or scares the hell out of me.”
They were both quiet the rest of the flight. Cush was lost in his thoughts imagining a life without the woman he’d fallen in love with. He kept telling himself that he would die before he let that happen, but then he wouldn’t force her to be with him if that was what she truly wanted. His eyes drifted closed and he attempted to get some rest, knowing it was going to be a long night and day. Cush was sure that whatever was waiting for them in New Orleans, it wasn’t his Chosen with open arms and a smile. No, it was a battle and one he was not sure he could win.
Elora climbed off the bus and stepped to the side to get out of the way of the other disembarking passengers. Her body felt tight, wound up like spring just waiting to be released. She stretched her arms over her head and looked around the bus station. A large sign attached to the old brick wall in front of her announced their arrival to New Orleans and welcomed them to the historic city. Elora felt as though there was a tear beginning to rip inside of her as her soul reached in one direction and her mind in the other. She wanted to be there, was relieved she’d finally made it, and yet at the same time she wanted to turn and run in the other direction to―. She paused as she tried to grasp on to that feeling. What did she want to run to? What was it that she was missing or, rather, who was it that she was missing? A physical pain was beginning to build inside of her. Her heart seemed to have to work harder just to keep beating, and her muscles were fighting against her every move. She put one foot in front of the other and made her way to the other side of the bus station where she could see taxis waiting to take people to their appointed destinations.
The image of a dilapidated motel on the edge of a swamp entered her mind as though answering an unasked question. She explained what she was looking for to one of the men leaning casually up against a yellow cab.
“Sounds like you’re looking for one of the witch doctors,” he said in a thick French accent. “That’s the only reason folks go that direction.”
“I have friends staying at the motel,” Elora explained.
He waved her off. “It’s not my business. I’ll drive you there as long as you got the fare.”
“Do you take debit cards?”
The cabbie nodded and opened the back door for her. Elora slid in and tried to still her trembling hands as the car pulled out onto the street and headed toward a destination that didn’t make any sense to her, and yet it was a destination she could not deny.
Priestess Chamani walked through her swamp, a land where she’d lived for the past eighty years and the land where her ancestors before her had lived. Her people had been born, lived, and died in that swamp for as long as anyone could remember. It was rich with the blood of her people, and it spoke to her in a way that it did no others. The trees were her friends and the moss a cloak around her like a comforting blanket. She welcomed the land to her and it, in turn, welcomed her.
The bayou was an unforgiving land, full of dangers and traps waiting for the unsuspecting. Like a coiled serpent waiting for the mouse to unwittingly walk into its strike zone so was the swamp. Not only were their hidden perils such as quicksand like pits and vines that could entangle your limbs dragging you down to the marshy land but there were predators that constantly watched for the weak or stupid.
Gators, snakes, and poisonous insects were only a few of the animals that called the swamplands home. But even these creatures had accepted Chamani as one of their own. Just as they were a part of the bayou, she too was counted among the predators. Rarely did one of them attempt to make her prey, and if they did, she simply reminded them of why her family had survived so long in the land when others had died or given up and ran.
Her feet walked unerringly on the spongy ground, but she left no prints in the soft mud. Her own magic cloaked her from the presence of other humans as she made her way to where Cassandra and her mate were currently attempting to traverse the terrain. She’d known they would come, but she would be wary of the elf king. He hadn’t been deemed one of the greatest spies and assassins in the supernatural world for nothing. No, she wouldn’t let her guard down, but she would hope that he would keep his word because the balance was teetering on a breaking point, and if Lorsan and Tarron were to gain control of the human realm, things were going to get bad, very, very quickly.
The trees rustled around her and the wind whispered through the leaves telling her of the intruders. She stopped and raised her arms in the air, calming the restless spirits that resided there. As she lowered her arms Chamani heard their voices. They were less than thirty feet from her and just as she saw them Trik froze and his head snapped in her direction. She felt his magic and power immediately and was shocked at the force of it. The Forest Lords had greatly blessed him and it was obvious that their protection surrounded him. She hoped she hadn’t underestimated her opponent, but then even if she had it was too late to turn back.
Triktapic, Elf King, Assassin, Spy, I so name you. Chamani reached for his mind. She couldn’t control him, he was much too powerful for that, but she was able to speak to him silently. He didn’t seem surprised.
“Speak out loud, witch.” His voice boomed through the trees bouncing off of the large trunks and reverberated through the air.
“Careful, King,” she warned. “This not be your land. It will not be tolerating disrespect.”
“Then I would ask that you not disrespect my Queen or my people by using mind tricks. We came based on your offer.”
“No,” she cut him off. “You be here because Cassandra’s parents are in the clutches of evil. Speak truth or don’t be speaking at all.” The spell surged from her without thought, and to her surprise Trik’s hand flew out in front of him and light pulsed from it. Her spell bounced off of the light uselessly.
“Do we need to establish who is stronger? Is this posturing really necessary?” Cassandra spoke up.
Chamani’s eyebrows rose as she took in the human who was still very young compared to the supernaturals around her. She was bold; she would make a good queen and it was obvious by the way Triktapic kept his body halfway in front of hers that he was very protective of her. That was a very good thing because she was also very vulnerable.
“Is that not what predators be doing?” she asked the queen. “Do not all alpha creatures establish who be the greatest among them? It is necessary to know who be leading and who be following.”
“Or, perhaps, we could not act like animals and instead deal with the matter at hand.” Cassandra raised her chin slightly in the air. She would make a fierce leader one day. She still had much growing to do, but she was definitely a good match for Triktapic.
“You be remembering the dream chile?” the priestess asked her.
Cassandra nodded.
“Then you be knowing the price.”
“What about Elora?”
“Her fate is not certain. I not be seeing where she will end up and that’s not the goddess’s concern. Triktapic must be staying on the throne. It not be just the elves who will pay the price if the dark elf be taking over.”
“So I’m just supposed to just toss my friend to the side?” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed
.
Chamani shrugged. “We all be making tough decisions in da hours ahead. Your parents be important to you, as is your mate. It not be fair, fo sure, but then…that not be my concern.”
“We want to see her parents before any deals are struck,” Triktapic spoke up.
The old woman nodded. “We must be waiting first. Elora, daughter of Steele, is getting closer and she must be here. Tarron is not being a fool, but her presence will distract him once he sees her.”
Cassandra did not appear happy about that, but then Chamani was not concerned with anyone’s happiness save her goddess.
“We wait here,” she told them, making eye contact briefly with the other human who was standing behind them. He was a young male though no longer an adolescent. There was no fear in his posture, only curiosity and courage. Triktapic was surrounding himself with comrades that he was going to need. Though Chamani wasn’t sure if it was going to bode well for her, she knew it would be necessary in order for the elf king to succeed.
The cab door was eerily loud as it slammed closed behind Elora. She paid the cabdriver and then turned to face the rundown motel as the car drove away, leaving her to an uncertain fate. Her immediate thoughts were of the Bates Motel but she quickly shoved those things from her mind. Perhaps, she would need to choose different things to watch on TV lest her imagination get the best of her. Then again, her reality had become much more bizarre than any television show, so it probably wouldn’t matter what she watched at that point. The fact of the matter was that she had been in Las Vegas for reasons she could no longer remember and now was standing in the swamp lands of Louisiana for reasons she did not understand. No, TV had nothing on her life.
As she began to walk, her feet didn’t take her to the motel but, rather, past it instead to a dirt road that had past murder scene written all over it. But no matter what her rational mind was telling her to do, as in run like hell in the opposite direction, her feet continued forward.
“Cue the creepy music as the dumb blonde heads straight for her killer, all the while thinking she’s being sneaky,” Elora mumbled to herself as she walked deeper into the marshland. At first, she attempted to keep her feet from getting too muddy, but after half a mile she realized it was futile. Her shoes kept sinking down into the muck and pretty soon she was caked from the tip of her toe all the way up to her shins.
Unfamiliar sounds kept her constantly shifting her eyes from one direction to another. She scanned the ground in front of her for any signs of life, mostly alligators, but she was sure there were also other things living in the swamp that she’d rather not meet. As she pulled her foot from the deepening mud, the thick sucking sound of her shoe breaking free from the mire echoed off the trees around her. She once again felt that relentless stabbing in her gut. She stumbled as the pain intensified but righted herself before she could face plant into the swamp. Elora wanted to scream in frustration. But just as quickly as those feelings came, others followed just in their wake. And as a deep voice reached out to her through the sudden fog that she hadn’t even realized had formed around her, Elora felt her heart speed up and her feet eager to follow.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” the voice rumbled. “And I don’t know whether to be angry or accepting of this outcome.”
“Who are you?” Elora asked.
A man, no, not a man, she amended. A dark elf, materialized out of the fog less than ten feet from her. Her gut tightened as she looked at him and feelings of electricity ran over her flesh. It was the face from her mind, the one that kept popping up every time she attempted to think of reasons she shouldn’t be doing what she had been doing. She’d never met him and yet Elora wanted to throw herself into his arms.
“I am Tarron and you, lovely dark beauty, are mine.”
Tarron stared at Cassandra’s best friend partly in shock and partly in awe. Raw emotions were pouring through him as he drank her in. He knew the spell hadn’t worked correctly―and knew he should be angry―but as his eyes roamed over the female in front of him, he found that the only emotion he could feel was need. He needed her. He wanted her. She wasn’t the right one. She wasn’t his choice and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. Tarron knew that this was the spell at work. Chamani was a powerful priestess with old magic coursing through her veins. She had worked a love spell with the blessing of her goddess and it had done its job. It just happened to have landed on the wrong person.
He took a step toward her and when she didn’t back away he took another and another until he was standing a foot from her. He was close enough to touch her, close enough to smell her, and her scent was better than the sweetest, ripest fruit. Her dark hair was a beautiful contrast to her creamy, fair skin.
“Why is this happening?” Elora asked him as her eyes met his.
“It wasn’t supposed to be you,” he admitted. “But I can’t say that I’m disappointed. I actually think you might be a better fit for me. You aren’t fully human. I can feel it. I can feel the darkness in you.” Tarron couldn’t feel her soul. He never would be able to; it wasn’t how magic worked. It couldn’t make them soulmates; it could only manufacture the emotions that soulmates feel.
“Who was it supposed to be?” she asked interrupting his thoughts.
He clenched his teeth together as he considered the changes he would have to make to his plan. Triktapic wouldn’t be nearly as affected as he would have been if it had been his Chosen who was taken. It wouldn’t destroy the king to see Elora in Tarron’s arms, not like seeing Cassandra would have. But it would certainly do some damage to Cassandra to see her best friend captivated by the dark elf.
“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here with me.” Tarron reached out his hand and slowly took hers. It was cool and clammy. The slight tremor in it had him pulling her closer to him. To his surprise he found himself wanting to comfort her, to reassure that he wouldn’t hurt her. Was it the magic? Was it something else entirely? The better question was, did he care?
“Walk with me,” he said as he threaded her fingers through his. Elora still looked very confused and unsure but she went with him without hesitance. Tarron knew that he’d have to take her back to the priestess’s shack, but he wanted some time with her before he had to deal with how she would handle him holding Cassandra’s parents hostage. He wanted to woo her and, perhaps, win a little bit of her heart, not just hold her because of the thrall of the spell. But that would take time.
“I honestly don’t know why I felt compelled to come here,” she told him as he helped her maneuver around fallen trees and soft land.
“Do you believe in such a thing as soulmates?” Tarron asked her.
Elora suddenly clutched her chest with her free hand and leaned over groaning as though she were in pain.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, truly concerned.
She started shaking her head and he leaned down to see her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, though her eyes were clenched tightly shut.
“Elora, tell me what it is.”
“I can’t. I don’t know. It’s been happening since I left Las Vegas. I just . . . this . . . this pain it grips my insides and feels as though it’s going to rip my organs from my body. I can’t breathe.” She struggled to speak while attempting to suck in air at the same time.
Tarron knew then what it was. Anger rushed through him like hot lava running down the side of a mountain. It burned his insides as he thought of her mate. Elora was a Chosen to a warrior. Being separated from him unwillingly would cause her pain and it would only get worse. He released her hand, afraid that he would crush it in his wrath. He didn’t want to share her. Elora had not been the female he had wanted, but now she was all he wanted. As he stared down at her while she was clutching her body in pain, he considered his options. Perhaps, there was a stronger spell, something that would make her soul separate from its mate. Until then he would have to intervene so that she wouldn’t be in pain. He laid a hand on her head, pushing his power in
to her. He caught her just before she hit the ground. Tarron swung her up into his arms and clenched her tightly to his chest. She would sleep until he could figure out a way to separate her from the light elf warrior. She would be his. How had the little dark half human so thoroughly ensnared him that he was willing to give up his plans? He still wanted to see the elf king destroyed, but it was no longer his sole purpose. Holding Elora in his arms he felt an emptiness inside of him being filled, one that he hadn’t even realized had been there. Whatever the priestess had done through that spell, it was much stronger than even Tarron had known it would be.
“Sleep well, Elora. Soon enough you will wake and want only me,” he whispered to her as he started off in the direction of Chamani’s little shack. He had work to do and he was eager to be done with it so that he could take Elora away back to his realm and a life with him. Tarron didn’t want to think about why he felt such things. He would deal with the reasons later, after he figured out what bargain he would have to strike with the Voodoo goddess to make Elora forget her soul mate.
Elora wanted to scream but her voice wouldn’t cooperate. She felt trapped in her own body unable to move or open her eyes. She’d heard the elf’s voice, the one that called himself Tarron, but she couldn’t focus on his words through the pain that was assaulting her. Elora felt as though every one of her nerve endings was being rubbed raw, as if they were being exposed to the elements. She hurt from the tips of her toes all the way to her head. Even her eyes hurt as though she’d held them open for too long staring at the sun. Never before had she felt such agony and she hoped that when it was over, if it was ever over, that she’d never have to feel it again.