Sweet Evangeline (Moon Magic Book 2) (11 page)

She tried to hurry, but in her haste, she knocked over the small table that held all of her supplies. By the time she had picked everything up, the class room was empty. Every nerve in Evangeline’s body was tingling. And it wasn’t the same as her usual excitement with Eric. This was a forewarning of danger. But danger from where?

Grabbing her purse, she started to leave. But a rough, strong hand brought her up short.

“Don’t be in such a hurry, Martel.” Oh, it was just Clark. Relief flooded her body.

“Hey, Clark. I’m sorry I missed your party the other night.”

“So am I.” Evangeline tried to pull her arm from his grasp. Why wasn’t he letting go?

“I need to go, Clark. Someone is waiting for me.” Her voice held just a tinge of panic.

“Let them wait. I saw your sculptures at the exhibit.” These words were said with a leer. “I didn’t realize you were such a slut.”

“Clark, please.” Again she tried to pull away. In her mind she began to call, ‘Eric, oh Eric. Please come to me, Eric. I need you, Eric. Please.”

Clark Lawrence was barely half the size of Eric McAllister, but he was big enough to subdue Evangeline. She began working up a ward in her mind, and it would have worked, but she just didn’t have time. “If you need a man, Martel, I’m available. I know what you are, I’ve known all along.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” ‘Oh, Goddess, help me’ she cried in her mind. ‘Eric, come to me, please!’ Evangeline said none of this out loud, she merely sank to her knees, held captive by a hand snarled tightly in her hair. She had expected Clark to rape her, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, he began to kick her. Hard. Over and over again. She had enough presence of mind to wish he had worn tennis shoes, but he had on big cowboy boots with a sharp toe that had been embellished with a steel tip. He kicked her in the stomach and in the back and he kicked her in the breasts. She didn’t cry, she didn’t scream, she never said a word. There wasn’t any use. There was no one to hear her. The last blow that she was aware of was a hard kick to her head. Then nothing.

* * * *

Eric had gone to his condo for more clothes. He intended to take Evangeline out on the town. He knew she would be happy to spend the evening in bed with him, and that sweet willingness and the fact that she expected nothing from him, was exactly why he wanted to take her out and show her how truly special she was. Austin’s premier French restaurant was Chez Nous, a swanky, fairly expensive place that Jessica had loved. It wasn’t exactly his cup of tea, but he thought Evangeline would like it. Gathering everything he needed, he started back toward the campus.

Strangely, a feeling of despair washed over Eric. Where had that come from? He was almost back to Evangeline’s house, very near to campus, when he heard her call his name. Her voice was as plain as day, and he would have known it anywhere. It was burned into his soul. He slammed on his brakes, pulled over and looked for her. Maybe she got out of class early and had walked out to find him. But she didn’t know where he had gone. Still, he looked for her. He saw no one that looked the least bit familiar. Still, he felt odd, uncomfortable, something was definitely wrong. Checking the clock, he knew class was over. She should be back at the house by the time he was. Reentering his car, he started it up and drove to her home.

But no matter what he thought about, he couldn’t shake the notion that something was terribly amiss—with Evangeline. The more seconds that ticked by, the more certain he became. He swung the Camaro into her drive and bounded up the steps. He hadn’t locked the door, figuring to beat her back. He swung it open and called, “Evangeline! Sweetheart, are you here?”
Oh, God let her be here
.
He checked every room, even running up the stairs to check her craft room. Glancing around, he took no time to let anything register. She wasn’t here.

He ran outside and looked down the street. His stupidity hit him like a ton of bricks. He still didn’t have her cell phone number. Not taking the time to get back in the car, he began to run toward the campus. Something urged him to hurry. God, he hoped he was following the route she would take. He didn’t want to miss her, just in case she had been delayed for a few minutes. But his gut instinct told him differently—the same instinct that helped him stay alive when ceilings were falling and gas lines were exploding.

Eric knew where the Arts Building was located; he had inspected the fire exits and extinguishers just a few months ago to ensure the building was meeting code regulations. But it was a big building. His adrenaline was running so high, that he took three steps in a single bound. He hit the door, but it didn’t budge. The building was locked! Shit!

He wasn’t absolutely certain she was in there, but something told him he couldn’t take the chance—he had to check it out. Glancing frantically around, he let out a sigh when he saw one of the familiar blue and white university security vehicles. Racing up to it, he pounded on the window. “Hey! My name is Eric McAllister. I’m a fireman for the city of Austin. I think there is someone in that building who needs help.”

The university worker was female, and she said she recognized him. Taking her keys, she ran to let him into the building. “Do you know what floor the sculpture lab or whatever is on?” he asked as he pushed through the door.

“Third.” He heard her call out behind him. She tried to keep up with Eric, but she couldn’t. He didn’t bother with the elevator, instead he ran up the stairs. Trying to read the signs on the walls, he saw that the sculpture lab was at the end of the hall. Praying like he had never prayed before, he covered the distance in a dead run. Pushing through the double swinging doors, he looked around the darkened room. It was empty.

No. It wasn’t. Something told him to keep looking.

And then he saw her.

Evangeline lay crumpled on the floor. She wasn’t moving. A tortured sob escaped from Eric’s throat. “God, Baby,” he groaned. He knelt beside her. It looked as if she had been severely beaten. There was blood, bruising, swelling—his heart ached trying to take it all in. Frantically he felt for a pulse. Letting out a harsh breath, he found one. “Call 911!” He screamed at the guard, who had just caught up with him.

Not thinking, he picked her up, holding her to him. “Who did this to you, sweetheart?”

Of course, she didn’t answer.

He was trained the same as an EMT, so when he calmed just a little, he laid her back down and began checking for injuries. Running his hands over her body, he felt for broken bones. When he touched her ribs, she jerked. Undoing her shirt, before anyone else could get there; he was horrified to see the marks on her back and on her chest.

He felt of her neck and head and discovered she had been beaten in the head with the same weapon that had been used on the rest of her body. His heart broke. Why would anyone do this to such a gentle little soul?

Eric McAllister cried.

The last time Eric could remember shedding a tear was when his mother died. He had seen tragedy and witnessed untold pain, but he had always been able to separate himself from it to some degree. But seeing Evangeline lying helpless on the floor, obviously having bore the brunt of someone’s sadistic onslaught, brought him to his knees. He asked the security guard to watch outside for the ambulance, and he stayed at Evangeline’s side, either with her hand in his or his resting on some part of her body.

He thought the ambulance would never get there. At least he had the presence of mind to find her cell phone and call her grandmother’s number. It was a conversation he was dreading, but Nanette Beaureguarde did not lose her cool. “Where are you taking her, baby?” Eric was grateful for the endearment. His guilt was eating him alive. He had not taken care of her. She belonged to him and he had not protected her.

“Brackenridge, just off 35.”

“We’ll meet you there. And don’t worry. I’ll bring my bag of tricks.”

At first the expression struck him as odd, but knowing what Evangeline had told him about her family, he realized she was probably serious. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Beaureguarde.”

“I know, sweetie. We all are.”

As he waited for the ambulance, he knelt and soothed a lock of hair from her forehead, wincing at the dark bloody bruise that was forming. She belonged to him. That fact kept emerging in his thoughts. Their time together had been short, but they had packed so much loving into so few hours that already his life was irretrievably wound into hers. He remembered her total acceptance of him, right from the start. He remembered how she had cared for him, cherishing him. She was exactly what he had longed for. Evangeline belonged to him.

“Evangeline, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Leaning over, he tenderly kissed her on the side of her face, his body totally on the alert for any small indication that she was aware of him. To his great relief, she stirred—the faintest of movements from her head and one hand. She knew he was there. Eric bowed his head and prayed.

It seemed like an eternity, but, finally, the ambulance arrived and transported her to the hospital. Brackenridge was only a couple of miles from where they were, so it wasn’t long before the doctor was evaluating Evangeline. To Eric’s surprise, when the family arrived, they came en masse—all except for the congressman. Nannette, Elizabeth, her new husband, Angelique and Arabella, Eric was relieved to see them all.

Nanette took over. She introduced him to the members of the family he had not met before. “Eric, this is my daughter Elizabeth and her recently acquired husband, Detective Tyler Garrison. Elizabeth is Arabella’s mama. Meet Eric McAllister, he belongs to Evangeline.” No one disputed the blatant fact that Nanette proclaimed, least of all Eric. He shook hands with them both, thinking that Elizabeth didn’t look old enough to be the mother of a grown woman.

“Thank you, sugar.” Elizabeth smiled at him.

“You’ll get used to it. I’ve seen you around, welcome to the family.” Detective Garrison seemed like a heck of nice guy. “When you get ready to talk, I’m here.” The two men spoke for a few moments, assessing one another, each appearing to like what they knew about the other—their priorities, their jobs.

They hovered in the hall outside the main waiting room. “Tell us what you know,” urged Angelique.

Eric pushed a large, frustrated hand through his thick hair. “Evangeline went to her two o’clock sculpting class. I had gone over to my condo on 4
th
to get some clothes. I was planning on taking her out to dinner tonight.” He stopped and hung his head. Arabella placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “On the way back to her house, I heard her call my name. I pulled over and actually got out to look for her.”

“I’m sure she did call you, Eric. In her panic, it would have been the most natural thing in the world for her to call your name, maybe out loud, maybe just in her heart.” Elizabeth’s words were sandpaper tearing at Eric’s soul, but he continued.

“She wasn’t there, of course. I went over to her house, then I ran to the Arts Building. It was all locked up, but when I finally got in, I found her in the sculpting lab. She was unconscious.”

“Let’s go sit down, Arabella can’t stand much longer.” Tyler led them into the waiting room. They found a section that could accommodate them all. It wasn’t long before a doctor approached the family. He searched their faces for any indication of who to talk to. Nanette pushed Eric forward. He held his breath.

“There doesn’t seem to be any major internal injuries. The brain has swelled, but she is stable. After she regains consciousness, we’ll know more.”

“Can we see her now?” he asked.

The doctor looked at the group of six. “It’s a small room, but sure, your presence may go a long way to bringing her back faster.”

“That’s what we think.” Nanette assured him.

Eric nearly groaned at the sight of her. She was so small, so helpless looking. “She healed a second degree burn on my arm in a matter of hours. I know you healed the congressman. Can you do anything for her?” He turned to the family expecting great things.

Elizabeth walked near to her. She held her hands out over Evangeline. “Bastard!” she exclaimed.

“What do you see, Mother?” Arabella stood near, ready to help in any way she could.

“He didn’t have a weapon,” she spoke harshly. “He kicked her. He kicked her over and over again with damned, steel-toed, cowboy boots.” At her revelation, Eric closed his eyes and felt a part of him die. The thought of Evangeline being kicked like a dog paralyzed him.

“Was she raped, sexually molested in anyway?” The doctor hadn’t mentioned it, but Angelique asked the hard question. This hadn’t even occurred to Eric. He held his breath, praying he could repair whatever damage had been inflicted upon Evangeline’s gentle spirit.

“No, thank God.”

Breath
e
, Eric told himself.
Breath
e
.

“This wasn’t really a sexual thing. In fact…” Elizabeth paused. She wheeled around to her mother. “There’s magick involved. I can smell it; a dark, cruel force. This wasn’t random. This was personal. There is a block, as to motive, a powerful block. But not by the assailant. His name is Clark Laurence and if they hurry, the police will catch him on I-20 between Marshall and Shreveport. He’s in a red Pontiac Solstice.” Tyler did not hesitate. He knew how good his wife was. Stepping out of the room with the cell phone, he started the ball rolling that would ensure Clark Laurence was taken into custody.

Eric was stunned. This was more overwhelming than he had ever imagined. The four women gathered around the bed. Nanette reached inside her purse and took out a large clear crystal. She sat it next to Evangeline’s head. “Get me water, Angelique.” To the water, Nanette added some herbs and some oil. Dipping her hands into the bowl she began to stroke Evangeline’s body. Everywhere there was a bruise, the water was applied. “Eric, Arabella is a healer, a Traiteur. A traiteur is a powerful Cajun healer. Arabella, place your hands on her head. That’s our main worry. Elizabeth, Angelique, join me. We’ve got to wake this baby up. The bruising won’t go away immediately, but we can accelerate the healing process. But bringing her out of this coma, that’s what we’re going to do now.”

Eric stepped back. Something his mother had done for him when he was little was tugging at the back of his mind. As he watched these four, confident women lay their hands on the most precious thing in the world to him, Eric began to remember.

He had been four or five at the time. It had been just before Christmas. He and his mother had returned from shopping. The excitement and mystery of the bags and packages filled with presents had seemed magical to him. In his childlike glee, he had gotten in her way and before she knew it, his mother had shut his hand in the car door. Eric still remembered the white-hot pain. He had screamed bloody murder. It had felt like his hand had been crushed, every bone broken. Grace had been horrified, but she had not panicked. Eric remembered her opening the car door, picking him up and carrying him inside. Then, instead of rushing him to the doctor or calling an ambulance or even his dad, she had knelt by him and took his hand in hers. “Hush, love, hush,” she had soothed him.

He remembered she had held his hand, encased in both of hers. There hadn’t been a lot of blood, but the pain had been excruciating. Looking back, Eric realized that many bones in his hand must have been fractured. That’s where the memory went awry. He had no recollection of a doctor visit, a cast, or even any discomfort. Grace had held his hand; he could still recall the heat. The pain had lessened and drowsiness had taken him over. When he woke up, it was as if nothing had happened. In fact, he had played T-Ball that night and his father had never known about the incident.

My Go
d
!
This shit is rea
l
!
Time had passed. Grace had died when he was only ten years old, but he still remembered he had protected her, keeping things like that from his dad who refused to listen, consider, or give his wife any freedom at all. Eric vowed he would never be like that. He listened to Nanette’s voice.

God and Goddess, Mother and Father of all life, hear my cry

Archangels—four—Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel—open heaven’s door

Watchtowers of the East, Element of Air—send a healing wind

Watchtowers of the South, Element of Fire—bathe her in your warm embrace—the spark of life please send

Watchtowers of the West, Element of Water—let blessings flow

Watchtowers of the North, Element of Earth—mercy and peace, please show

* * * *

Evangeline could see and hear everything. She just couldn’t respond. Nanette and the others were willing her to move, to open her eyes. She saw Eric standing by praying for her. Then, Evangeline realized she was clear across the room, connected to her body by a silver ribbon.
I’ve been trying to do this for year
s
. She looked down at her body; it looked almost the same as the one lying in the bed, except her skin was opalescent instead of opaque. Walking up to Eric, she placed a hand on his broad shoulder. He turned around, and looked through her. She leaned up and kissed him on the throat and he jerked.

“Nanette, is Evangeline still alive?” His voice had a definite sense of panic to it.

Evangeline put her arms around him and he stiffened. Then he relaxed. He knew she was there.

The women all looked around at him, their hands still on her inert body. “Why yes, baby, her heart is beating strong and steady. Why?”

“Because she has her arms around me. I can feel her.” His voice held a note of wonder.

Nanette put her hands on her chubby hips and spoke forcefully to her granddaughter, “You get yourself back over her and get inside your body. Open those eyes for me and quit your playing around.” Elizabeth and Arabella couldn’t help but smile.

Eric felt her slip away. Then, as he watched, Evangeline moved slightly. She let out a long breath and he saw the tip of her tongue wet her lips and her top teeth caught her full bottom lip as if she was fighting pain. He stepped closer. The women kept their hands on her.

“Come on baby, open your eyes.” Nanette encouraged her.

Eric held his breath. Then a prayer of thanks slipped from his lips as he watched her head move and her small voice spoke one word.

“Eric?”

Nanette motioned for him to come up. She took his hand and joined it to her granddaughter’s. “He’s here, baby.” All of the women stepped back, giving them a little space. Cradling her body, he held her close. Kissing her neck he whispered in her ear. “Oh, love, love. I’m never letting you go again.” He felt one hand reach up and stroke his hair.

“Did you feel me kiss you a few moments ago, when you were standing across the room?” Eric rose up and looked at her. She was smiling.

“Yes, I did. You nearly scared me to death, I thought you had died.”

“No, just fooling around.”

He laughed, then abruptly cut it off. His throat closed up and his chest burned. “I thought I had lost you.”

Nanette stepped back up and put her arm around Eric. “She’ll be all right now. The bruising won’t get any worse. In fact, it should start to fade, soon. When the doctor comes back, he’ll be surprised to find you vastly improved.”

“Do I have to stay in the hospital tonight?”

Her question resulted in five resounding simultaneous answers, “Yes.”

Her eyes immediately went to Eric’s. She wanted to ask him to stay with her, but she didn’t want to make any demands. He heard her thoughts as clear as a bell.

“Oh, I’m staying, babe.” He answered her unasked question.

They all laughed. “Our powers are rubbing off. He’s reading her mind.” Elizabeth, also, had heard every word.

* * * *

“Idiot!” Duvalier knocked a lamp from his desk.

“Your puppet came off the strings.” The small black man smiled slyly.

“All he was supposed to do was watch and listen.”