Colorblind (Moonlight) (16 page)

“Yes,” Leon replied, with a stiff nod. “Sometimes fate can be cruel, Penny.”

“So it’s not normal for a human and a
were
to be mates?”

He shook his head once. “It is not normal, but it has happened before.”

Nodding, Penny pressed her cheek against his cotton shirt again. “Will he hurt her?”

“Never intentionally,” Leon replied, the conviction in his voice only putting her slightly at ease.

“But he could still hurt her?”

“Yes.”

“I always thought that living in this house would be better than working the fields,” Penny murmured, remembering the tears streaking Julia’s face, the pain that seemed to weigh her tall but slender body down. “Perhaps, it was because they received better clothing, and food, and were always inside, away from the sun and the prickly cotton vines. I didn’t know—didn’t think about the type of things she’d be subjected to. She’s experienced more pain that anyone I’ve met, Leon. You can almost smell it on her.”

Leon remained silent, listening to her, stroking up and down her back, comforting her. It was true. Julia had always struck him as sad, and close to broken.

“It would be unnecessarily cruel to have her suffer anymore,” she continued softly, and Leon sensed whatever she would say next was not going to sit well with him. “I want you to tell him that. Tell Armand that. If you won’t, I will. If he knows he’ll hurt her—”

“I told you, Penny, he’ll never hurt her intentionally—”

“But he will hurt her, nonetheless, because she’s not like us.” Penny pulled away from him, her eyes burning into his. “He shouldn’t mate her, Leon—”

“It is a decision they will have to make,
ma louve
,” he replied immediately.

“Will he give her that choice?”

A little smile tugged at his lips before he sighed and nodded. “He has to. He can’t mate her unless she accepts.”

***

Armand watched stoically, but with his heart tightening painfully in his chest, as Julia and another female—a sister—clung to each other. Julia was the comforter, whispering soft words to the other as she cried and fidgeted, and although her eyes were filled with tears, she shed none. She looked straight ahead, seeing neither him nor the slave cart that would take her away from the plantation.

She wore a simple, dark green gown. It was worn out and threadbare in some areas, but she still looked radiant in it. Her hair was bound with pins and another piece of cloth, but the scarf that usually covered her head was off. Curly stands fell at her temples, making their way close to those gray eyes—

“You haven’t mentioned it, but I’m assuming Pleasant is dead?”

Leon stood beside him, face expressionless as he watched the proceedings. Étienne and Hollis were attaching the shackles to the handles and feet of the slaves to be transported, and although in was close to noon, Pleasant was still nowhere to be found. The family and close friends of the slaves were allowed to be there, to see them off.

“Very,” Armand replied, a snarl curling his lips as he remembered his recent kill. Pleasant had deserved the violent death he received. It had taken almost two hours for the man to die and still Armand wished he’d lived longer. Pleasant deserved many such violent deaths.

“Will his body be found?” Leon asked. “Parts of him—yes,” Armand replied. “An animal attack?” Leon queried softly.

Armand nodded. “Yes.” Even in his anger, he’d remembered to make the attack look like a wild animal, or a pack of wild animals. Coyotes or wild dogs. “Good.”

Julia moved suddenly and he looked back to her. She’d set her sister aside quite firmly, and caressed her tear-stained cheek. With a little smile, she stepped around the younger woman and made her way to Étienne, who’d pushed to his feet after attaching shackles to the legs of a woman and was beckoning Julia forward.

Her eyes caught Armand’s briefly but she looked away and continued on her journey to his brother.

Armand didn’t know he was growling until Leon said, “You’ll have to curb that until you’re further North, brother. Remember you’re transporting a slave, not your—”

“I know well whom I’m transporting,” Armand replied tersely, turning away to keep himself from lunging at Étienne for touching Julia. His brother was only doing a job Armand had assigned to him.

Leon watched him closely, looking behind him to where Étienne was chaining Julia. Once Julia and the rest of the slaves were in the cart, he told Armand.

His brother relaxed and Leon continued, “Do you have enough weapons?”

Armand nodded. Between himself and Étienne, they had many guns and quite a few rounds of silver bullets, not that they expected intervention from any of the immortal species. It was a precaution.

Étienne walked over to them, tugging down his wide-brimmed hat as he did so.

“We’s ready,” he said, testing the lingo he was already picking up.

Leon nodded. “May Luna protect you on this journey.”

Armand nodded, as did Étienne, before they both turned and headed back to the wagon.

Leon watched as they took their places in the front and urged the horses forward. The wagon was making its way down the dirt passageway when Hollis came up beside him.

“Begging you pardon, Mr. Arnaud, but ain’t right for only one overseer to be out in the fields wit’ this number of slaves, and since it seem like Pleasant not comin’ in today—probably got the ague—I’s thinkin’ I can go ’nd get my brother to come in ’nd work ’til he get back.”

Turning to Hollis, who seemed nervous about even asking him this, Leon replied, “Does your brother have experience with this type of work?”

Armand had told him he would need to look for another overseer. It was only appropriate he begin his search now.

“On ’nd off,” Hollis said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “He a fast learner, though, and don’ give no trouble—just do as ’e told.”

Leon watched the younger man with narrowed eyes until Hollis squirmed before he finally said, “He can have the job until Pleasant comes back, and if he does a good job, there’s a chance I’ll keep him on. Is that understood?”

Hollis brightened, turning a shade of red until his deep tan. “He gon’ do a good job. I’s swear. Thank you, Mr. Arnaud.”

He was moving off, when Leon halted him. “Do you know where Pleasant lives, Hollis?”

He nodded. “After you collect your brother, I’d like you to stop by and find out how long he believes he’ll be out.”

“’Course, Mr. Arnaud.”

As he walked away, Leon looked around. The slaves who’d gathered before the stables had returned to their quarters. Only Jolie remained, looking like a broken thing without its source of sustenance.

“Jolie,” he called, approaching her. She jumped and blinked, looking at him as if he were a stranger. Her pupils dilated slowly as her eyes tried unsuccessfully to focus. “Jolie, the heat is getting to you. Take a few hours to rest.”

“I’s fine, Massa…” she began in a weak voice, attempting to move. She almost fell, but caught herself as she wobbled.

“You are to go inside and rest,” Leon said firmly. He kept his hands at his sides, remembering his promise to Penny. He was beginning to realize that this promise would have to be amended, very slightly.

Jolie stared at him for a long time and he saw tears well again before she nodded jerkily and walked toward the plantation house. Turning around, Leon sniffed the air, trying to catch the honeysuckle scent that would put him at ease. Where was his mate?

***

As Leon had known he would, Hollis returned with the information that Pleasant had not made it home. Hollis had dismissed it, saying he’d probably had too much to drink and was passed out at some whorehouse in Baton Rogue. Leon had pretended to accept that, although he’d made obvious his distaste for a man who could not hold his liquor. When the next day arrived, and Pleasant still did not show up for work, they decided to check around the plantation to see if something had happened to him.

Evening was falling quickly as Leon, Hollis, and Hollis’s brother, Dale, seated upon horses, headed from the plantation. Before they could follow Pleasant’s trail, another party of men approached from the side.

In the lead was Patrick Ryder, toting a large musket, and a grim smile. Narrowing his eyes, Leon watched him approach.

“Heard your overseer is missing, Arnaud,” Ryder said as he brought his horse to a stop next to Leon’s. “Either that or he’s decided to part with this job, Mr. Ryder,” Leon answered easily.

Ryder smiled but replied, “If he’s in these woods, my boys and I are gonna help you find him.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I insist,” Patrick Ryder replied. “We’re neighbors, Arnaud. I’d like to think you’d do the same for me.”

“I would,” Leon replied automatically.

“It’s settled, then.” Ryder turned and looked around the seated circle of men. “There’s six of us so I suggest we split up.” He turned and pinned Hollis with a glare. “Which route does Pleasant use to go home?”

After Hollis rattled it off, Ryder nodded and turned to Leon. “Hollis will show you that route, and my boys and I are gonna use the other, just in case.”

Nodding, Leon turned to Hollis as Mr. Ryder spoke again. “And just for good luck, put these in your guns.”

Turning around, Leon looked down at the box being handed to him.

“What are those?”

“Custom-made bullets,” Ryder replied, jerking his hand forward. Leon took the box, peering at it as if able to see through to the inside. “I’ve been having them made for years. I call them my good luck charms.”

He flipped the cover and resisted the urge to glare at Ryder. Silver. Patrick Ryder had silver bullets.

“I didn’t know you were a superstitious man, Mr. Ryder,” he said instead, turning his attention back to the man.

“When you’ve lived around these parts long enough, Arnaud, you’ll probably get superstitious, too.” He tossed Leon a grin before shaking his head and saying, “I’ve seen things here you wouldn’t even imagine.”

“Really, Mr. Ryder?” Leon asked, wondering to what the man referred.

“Stories like those are for another time,” Ryder replied, turning his horse. “Hold on to them bullets in case you need them.” He turned to his own overseers. “Come on, boys. If Pleasant’s in these woods, let’s find him.”

***

Even Leon admitted that what had been done to Mr. Pleasant was very vicious. Not only was Pleasant discovered in numerous locations—an arm there, a foot there—the man was missing vital organs, including the one he’d used to abuse Julia. His eyes were still there, wide open in death, and on his face was a look of absolute horror. “Shame,” Ryder muttered, coming up beside Leon and the largest-still-together part of Pleasant’s body, the head and torso. “He was a good man.”

Leon resisted the urge to smirk and nodded instead. Pleasant was about as good as the devil.

“Coyotes,” Leon said, standing to face Ryder. “Or some other type of wild animals.”

Ryder stroked his beard slowly and withdrew a silver flask, which he promptly brought to his lips. After a lengthy drag, he held it out to Leon, who refused.

“You’re right about some other type of wild animal.” Ryder replaced the flask, and looked back to Pleasant, wincing as he took in the state of the body.

A chill sneaked up Leon’s spine. “What do you mean, Mr. Ryder?”

“I mean, when you’ve been living in the Bayou as long as I have, you see things that are definitely wild animals. They’re just not the kind of animal you’re accustomed to.”

“So these aren’t coyotes?” Leon probed.

Ryder shrugged. “Could be coyotes, could be something else.”

“What else could it be?” Leon struggled for patience.

A dry laugh left his throat. “If I told you, you’d probably think I’m crazy.” He looked back to Pleasant’s fly-ridden body and a slight shudder racked him. “You take care of this, and come over to my place tomorrow night. I’ll tell you everything I know over a pint of whiskey.”

Chapter Ten

“You don’t believe me.”

The statement came from Patrick Ryder, seated across from the casually dressed Frenchman whose brows were quirked and whose lips seemed close to rising in amusement. It was late evening and they were in his study. He’d just shared some—never all—of the details of that fateful night almost thirty years ago, when they’d hunted two slaves, and had instead found themselves hunted by a rampaging wolf. He’d spoken of the size of the wolf, bigger than any Ryder had ever seen, its strange endurance after being shot numerous times, and its final death—a silver bullet through the head that had brought it crashing to the ground, and even then, it had taken a few more to finally still its breathing. At that time, he’d had silver bullets because they showed status. Not every slave owner could afford to have bullets made of pure silver, but his father had.

“You will excuse my reaction, Mr. Ryder. If you’re being serious about this story, I apologize, but if this is some form of rite of passage for new slaveholders, I am thoroughly impressed.”

Arnaud grinned and lifted his whiskey-filled glass to them.

Feeling a tingle of irritation at the younger man, Patrick struggled for patience. “It’s the truth, Arnaud. I don’t have time for silly initiations.”

The grin immediately faded from Arnaud’s lips but his eyes still twinkled, showing he was still very amused.

“So, you truly believe there are slaves who can transform into animals when threatened?”

“It’s the only explanation,” he replied immediately, and then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “We never found the male, just the dead body of the wolf—”

“Don’t you think it’s possible, Mr. Ryder, that he escaped?”

“Without the girl? I’ve thought about it before and no. Thorn was…particular about the girl, and his nigger didn’t like it. It was probably why they ran. The buck wouldn’t leave her, especially as she was pregnant.”

“Pregnant?”

“Yes. She was big. Stupid idea they had to run. Might have escaped if not for her slowing them down.”

Arnaud lifted a brow and leaned slightly forward in his chair. “For argument’s sake, let’s say the slaves somehow found a way to change into animals—”