Sweet Evangeline (Moon Magic Book 2) (14 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“Eric has got to rest. I don’t want him breathing any more of that smoke right away.”

Evangeline’s will was almost as strong as Nanette’s.

Eric repeated himself. “What are you two talking about?”

“Evangeline, you can put an end to this madness.” Then she met Eric’s eyes. “With her emotional ties to you, the motivation will be twice as powerful.”

“Evangeline, what is your grandmother saying?” Eric was not content to be talked around.

“My granddaughter can make it rain.” Nanette stated flatly.

“Make it rain?” All Eric could think about was the rap song. “Are you referring to luck with money?”

“No, sweetheart.” Nanette laughed. “Evangeline can conjure weather. She can make water fall from the sky.”

Eric looked at the woman who had just been as close to him as any human being could be. “I don’t doubt it for a second.” His calm assurance brought tears to Evangeline’s eyes.

“I need to be at the site of the fire. And I don’t want you to have to go back into that environment before you have to.”

“But if you can stop this, Evangeline, let’s do it. Lives and property are at stake. Every hour that goes by, every acre that goes up in flames is worth thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars. And no one has died yet, but the longer we delay, the more chance there is of that happening.”

They sat around the kitchen table. Evangeline looked at her grandmother and Angelique. They had faith in her. Then she looked at Eric. He exuded self-confidence, his sheer size alone gave him the air of leadership and authority. But he too, looked at her with utter confidence in his gaze. “All right. As soon as you eat and feel up to it, we’ll go.” She got up and looked at the supplies that were already gathered. There was a bag of rice and a bottle of olive oil. “I will need spring water, a Bible, and my small drum.” Angelique left to gather the additional items that Evangeline asked for.

When she asked for a drum, Eric chuckled. “Are you going to do a rain dance, love?”

“No. No rain dance. The ceremony that I use is my own; it is a mixture of hoodoo, voodoo and pow-wow—which is actually Germanic in origin, not Native American.”

As the older women cleared the table, Eric walked up behind her, lifted her hair and kissed Evangeline on the neck. “So, the clouds and the wind, they do your bidding?”

“Sometimes.” The touch of his lips made her shiver with delight.

“Do you have any idea how sexy that is? Do I get to watch?”

“I need you to take me there, so yes, you can watch.”

A look of worry crossed his face. “How close to the fire do you have to be?”

“As close as I can get, but on the backside would be better. In fact, the closer to the point of origin that you can get me, the more impact it will have. Also, I would rather be in as secluded a spot as possible. I would rather we didn’t have an audience.”

“I know just the place.”

* * * *

Zak brought the charcoal and the drawing paper to Aimee. “I hope this will do, it’s all I could find.”

Aimee sat in her small room. The chain that kept her tethered to the wall, clanked with every step she took. “That’s perfect. I know just what I’ll draw. It will be something that Evangeline will recognize as coming from my hand. That way, when you tell her I’m still alive, maybe she will believe you.”

* * * *

It took almost an hour for Eric to drive Evangeline to the backside of the wildfire. She had never seen anything like it. There was no way she could have withstood the heat and the intense smoke, if the winds had not been blowing them away from her. “How many acres have been burned so far?”

“Almost ten thousand.” Eric answered frankly. He helped her carry the items that she would need.

“The closer I can be to a cedar tree, the better. Cedar is a powerful draw for magical workings, especially weather.” The fire actually roared, they had to speak near to one another to be able to hear.

A trench had been dug to break the fire, but Eric watched the trail of flames, making sure the wind wouldn’t turn abruptly on them. They had driven through two road blocks, and it was only because Eric was with her that she was able to get so close.

Eric located a small, scrappy cedar and laid her materials underneath it. Stepping back, he gave her room to work. Fascinated he watched her cast a circle. She walked clockwise, laying out a boundary of purifying salt, then a trail of spring water. Lastly, she walked the same circle with a lit white candle.

“God and Goddess, Lord and Lady, Mother and Father of all life, hear my cry. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, hear my plea.” She stood at each cardinal point and addressed the watchtowers. “Guardians of the East, element of Air, hear my voice. Let your winds die down; take away the fuel from the fire. Guardians of the North, element of Earth, hear my plea. Help me bring together the powers that will save the land from the hot breath of burning. Guardians of the West, element of Water, I call upon you to draw the clouds, funnel the moisture, send healing, cooling water upon this angry torrent of flame. Guardians of the South, element of fire, call home your errant child. Fight this fire with the flame of goodness and truth.”

Standing in the center of the circle, Evangeline, sounded the small drum. It was the kind that was on the end of a long handle with strips of leather, to which were tied bits of rock and bone. With the slightest turn of the wrist, a beating rhythm could be achieved. “Papa Legba, open the gate. Give me access to the ear of Chango.” Upon the ground she poured an offering of oil. “Accept this oil as a sacrifice of plenty. “Chango! Chango!” she called out, lifting her hands to the skies. “Send your rain, send your thunder, send your dark clouds and rushing winds!” Kneeling down she poured out a mound of rice. “Accept this grain as a sacrifice of plenty.” Then, she began to quote from the book of Psalms, a verse of scripture that had been used to call rain upon this earth for thousands of years. “He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass, as waters upon the dry earth. He shall come down as rain upon the mown grass, as water upon the dry earth. He shall come down as rain upon the mown grass, as water upon the dry earth.”

Walking in the circle she raised her hands to the heaven. “I call down rain! I call down thunder! I call down lightning! I call down the storms of the heavens!” She shouted to the night sky. Repeating the chant, repeating the offerings she called out to the elements and to the gods. At first, there was nothing, no indication that anything or anyone was aware of Evangeline’s request. “I am the flow and I am the ebb. I am the weaver and I am the web. Harm to none. My will be done. So mote it be!” Then came a massive crack and a blinding flash as a bolt of lightning crashed from the sky. Evangeline did not stop her chanting, nor did she still her circular walk until sheets of rain began to fall from the sky. Eric shouted for joy, gathered up her tools, swept her into his arms and carried her to safety.

Four inches of rain fell in under two hours. Eric and Evangeline sat in the Camaro a safe distance away and watched the wonder of nature at work. “They say power is an aphrodisiac, I think they’re right.” He touched the soft curve of her cheek. The storm raged all around them, lightning putting on a display worthy of an Independence Day celebration.

She smiled. “I’ve always loved storms, everything about them—the lightning, the thunder. Mother always told me that the thunder was the god’s rolling pumpkins under their beds.”

Evangeline turned to him in the semi-darkness of the car. His gaze was magnetic. “I’m not talking about the power of the storm.” He picked up her hand. “Look at this soft, little hand—yet you pulled lightning bolts from the sky.”

Evangeline’s entire body was reacting to his closeness. “I don’t feel powerful, in fact, right now I feel like submitting to anything you might want to do to me.” Leaning over the console, she pulled him to her. Kissing him hungrily, she was surprised to hear a deep throaty sound of amusement escape from his lips. “What are you laughing at?”

“You talk about submitting and then you immediately take charge; drawing me closer, initiating the kisses, taking what you want.”

His observation did not slow her down in the least. She let him talk, but she was busy kissing him everywhere except on the mouth; his jaw, his throat, his cheekbone. “It’s your fault. You shouldn’t be so damn irresistible. When I’m around you, all I can think about is touching you.” Finding the buttons of his shirt, she began to undo the top one, then her hand stilled. What if he were trying to tell her something? Leaning back, she looked him in the eye. “God, Eric, am I too aggressive?”

“Hell, no!” One second she was in her seat, leaning over the console—the next she was sitting sideways in his lap, her back to the car door. “Witch! You had to know.”
He returned the favor, his lips covering her face and neck with soft, adoring kisses. “This was my sexual fantasy. I dreamed of a woman who would desire me as much as I desired her—one who wasn’t afraid to show me that she wanted me—a woman who didn’t just lay there and accept sex, but one that is as hungry for me as I am for her. All of that is you.” Running his hand up under her skirt, he pushed aside her silk panties to find the honeyed warmth within.

As always, his touch proved to be her undoing. Raising her hips to welcome the sensual invasion, she begged. “Take me somewhere, Eric. I’ve got to have you and this car is way too confining.”

Shifting her back to her seat, he revved the engine to life. “Call your grandmother and tell her we won’t be home until morning. Let’s go back and spend the night at my condo. It’s closer and we’ll be alone. I want to hear you scream.”

* * * *

“Well, now isn’t this just perfect.” He had debated how and when he could take McAllister down a peg. The big dolt was suspicious of him—and stopping him or slowing him down had become necessary. And look what happened—the goose laid a golden egg and it had landed right in his lap.

Cammack watched them leave. Checking the LED screen, he smiled. The picture was perfect. Hands raised to the night sky, hair blowing wildly in the wind, and a lightning bolt illuminating Eric McAllister and his pagan whore. He’d send this right over to his friend Jason, a free lance journalist. “The newspapers are going to love this.”

* * * *

The drive to the condo took exactly thirty-seven minutes and forty-five seconds. The rain was still pouring as he pulled into the covered parking garage. Leaving all of her witchy stuff in the car, they locked it and hurried into his condo. Just inside the door, he picked her up and carried her to his room. “I want to try something new with you. Is that OK?”

“Anything. As long as it ends up with you deep inside of me, I’ll do whatever you say.” She glanced around his room, it looked just like him. The furniture was big and sturdy and all made of golden oak.

Sitting on the bed, he held her in his lap, one hand stroking her back. She was almost purring with excitement. “Eventually, love, eventually. But, what I want to do to you is all about patience.”

“But, Eric, I wanted you so badly in the car and now you tell me I have to wait?” Feverishly, she began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

He stilled her hands, granting her a kiss on the lips, a token of the promises to come. “Waiting will only make it better, sweetheart.”

Underneath her hips, she could feel his arousal—long and hard. Attempting to relieve her need, she began to rub against him. “Can’t you make me come, and then we can go slow?”

Shifting her off his lap, before he gave in to her pleading, he chuckled with delight. “God, you are sweet! No, that would be cheating. I’m going to give you a full-body massage. And I want you to talk to me, tell me how you’re feeling—what you want. You can hear my thoughts when you want to, now I want to hear yours. Now, let’s get you undressed.” Since she had on a sundress, all he had to do was skim it off of her. As usual, she wore no bra and she had the panties off in a matter of seconds.

“You, too.” She reached for him. He helped her with the buttons and zippers and soon, they were both nude.

She melted against him. “Lord have mercy, you’re a temptress. I don’t know if I have the strength to resist you long enough to do this or not. Lie down on your stomach, doll.”

Giving one last kiss to his chest, she complied with his wishes. “I’m trembling, Eric. You haven’t even touched me, and I’m trembling.”

“Look at you—long legs, luscious bottom, the gentle curve of your back and that sexy braid that can make me hard from across the room. And here you are laying out waiting for my touch, for my pleasure. I must be the luckiest son-of-a bitch in the world.”

She kept waiting for the touch of hands, but it did not come. And then she felt it, soft gentle kisses in the bend of her knee, a hint of tongue, a nibble. “Talk to me, Evangeline,” he ordered.

“I feel sparks of fire coming from your lips.” His hands began to massage the backs of her thighs, massaging warm, scented oil into the supple muscles. “I’ve never had a massage, before. Your hands are so strong.” Evangeline put her face into her own hands. He didn’t realize he was torturing her—heavenly torture. He had no idea. “It feels wonderful.” She heard the bed creak as he changed positions, straddling her legs, situating himself so he could rub her back. She could feel his erection throbbing against her buttocks.