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Authors: Heather Graham

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BOOK: The Awakening
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He halfway sat up, grabbing it to draw it closer. He pushed it off the bed instead. Swearing, he rolled over and stuck his head over the edge of the bed to see just where it had fallen.
Right in front of him. It had fallen open. On the left side was an old etching of a horrible, fire-breathing, horned creature and the chapter title “The Known Demons.”
On the right, the chapter began. He read the heading and jerked up, throwing the book from him.
He laid back on the pillow, breathing hard.
He'd imagined it. Power of suggestion.
He forced himself to rise and go for the book. It still lay open, on the same page. He looked at the heading again.
Bac-Dal.
Chapter 12
In New Orleans, a Thursday night poker game was growing tense, despite the fact that it was hardly a high stakes game and was a weekly game as it had been for over a year, since the DeVeaus had moved to New Orleans from Charleston to be nearer their close friends, the Canadys. There were sometimes others involved in the game, good friends all, but tonight, it was just the DeVeaus and the Canadys.
“I'll see your quarter, and bump you fifty cents,” Lucian DeVeau said, tossing the money into the pot. He leaned forward, dark-haired, menacing, dark eyes holding a touch of a fiery sizzle over the kill he was certain he was about to make.
Sean Canady, blue eyes equally as hard and bright, leaned inward to the table as well, ready to meet the challenge. He ran his fingers through dark hair with just a touch of silver, and offered his nemesis a grim smile. “I'll just see your fifty cents, and bump you another fifty cents,” he announced.
“Let's see 'em!” Lucian said.
“Excuse me, want to wait a minute? Jade and I are in this game as well.”
Both men paused, looking to the end of the table. Maggie Canady, even in jeans and a T-shirt, had the ability to appear elegant with her sweep of dark auburn hair and riveting hazel eyes. She spoke imperatively, reproachful and chastising as she demanded attention.
Jade DeVeau, at the other end of the table, burst into laughter and reminded her husband and Sean, “She's right you know. You two seem to have this game down to some kind of a macho thing.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” Sean argued. “We would never get macho over a friendly poker game, right?”
“Or take it too seriously,” Maggie mused lightly.
“Never,” Lucian said dryly. “So. Sorry, we forget to let you follow. What is it, Maggie, are you in?” Lucian asked.
“No, I fold.”
“There, you see,” Sean said, shaking his head. “Maggie folds.”
“She folds, but I don't,” Jade told him.
“Throw your money in,” Lucian told her. Jade did so. “What've you got?” Lucian demanded of Sean.
“Full house,” Sean said, laying them out.
Lucian grinned with relish. “Four fours.” He started to rake in the pot.
“Excuse me!” Jade said.
The men paused and looked at her. “Four tens.”
“Two four-of-a-kinds!” Sean said with disgust. “Who dealt that mess?”
“You did, my love,” Maggie said complacently.
“Oh.”
Jade started to rake in her haul of quarters. As she did so, two-month-old Gwyneth, the newest edition to the Canady household, began to cry, the sound coming to them from the little speaker box on the kitchen counter. And as Maggie rose, Jade's cell phone went off.
Lucian leaned back in his chair, his eyes on his wife's. “This is going to be him,” he said.
Jade looked at him a little skeptically. “One time, you may be wrong,” she said softly.
“Yes, one time I may be,” he said flatly, “but this isn't going to be it.”
Jade rose, going to her purse to rummage through it for her cell phone. “I'll be right back,” Maggie murmured.
“Will you check on Aidan while you're up there?” Jade asked, referring to her adopted son, nearly two years old now, and going through the hell-on-two-feet stage when awake, but an angel baby at night. He always slept a solid twelve hours, but nevertheless, Jade looked in on him constantly. As she spoke, she gave half her attention to her search, and half to Maggie.
“Naturally—and if you intend to leave him with me for a few days, you're going to have to trust in the fact that I will look in on him!” Maggie reminded her.
“I can go check on them both,” Sean said, obviously still disgusted over the loss of what he had considered an incredible hand, and still, equally curious as to the phone conversation.
Maggie shook her head.
“Hello?” Jade said, staring at Lucian. He arched a dark brow.
“Yes, it's Jade DeVeau,” she said. She glanced across the table at Lucian. “Of course, I remember you.” She listened for another few minutes, then said softly, “If you don't mind, I think you need to speak with my husband.”
She turned the phone over to Lucian, who switched to speaker phone so that they could all hear what the man on the other end was saying. He had a deep, resonant voice, with just a hint of his Southern upbringing. Easy to remember, he was tall, on a par with Lucian's six feet, three inches, deceptively long and lean in appearance, as his height somewhat hid the breadth of his shoulders. She'd been impressed with his talent, drive, and professionalism; Lucian had been disturbed by something about the man, tense since they had met, certain that something was lurking behind the fellow's strong chiseled features and direct gaze. While Jade had felt that his love and admiration for his wife had been evident and charming, Lucian had again felt something else. Something that was brewing . . . smoldering, there, just beneath the surface. To Jade, they had been almost picture perfect. Megan Douglas was blond, feminine, beautiful, and had a voice that bordered on the heavenly. They were Barbie and Ken in a nutshell, almost too perfect to be believed.
“Actually, I'm not sure exactly why I'm calling you. I've just been hearing some of the most absurd stories, and I happened upon your wife's book, and since we had just met recently . . . this is ridiculous. I mean, it's not as if I can call ‘Ghost Busters,' right? And I haven't been seeing ghosts or anything like that. But the book mentioned that you like to know about the unusual. There are some . . . unusual things happening here.”
“Really? Well, you're in Salem, Mass, and it is approaching Halloween,” Lucian said. He stared across the room at Jade, then Sean. “But what a coincidence. My wife and I were considering a trip to Salem for the weekend. She'd like to do an after-the-event piece. And naturally, we'd like to meet with you. Find out whatever we can on just exactly whatever it is that's bothering you.”
“I wish I knew exactly.” They could all hear the caller hesitate. Then he cleared his throat and spoke clearly and directly. “I'm a musician. I don't know what . . . well, what you charge for assistance or whatever in . . . well, whatever. I suppose that what I really need is information. I don't believe in the occult . . . things that go bump in the night. But I do believe that bad things can happen, brought on by people with motives of their own. Everyone up here swears that Wiccans can't wish harm upon others, but . . . hey, like I said—bad things happen. I don't understand what's going on. Maybe we're being drugged somehow. You can't imagine the dreams, and what's worse, I don't even know just whose dreams they are at times. God, I'm not making a lot of sense. And as I was saying . . . I'm afraid that we're not wealthy.”
“I told you, we were thinking about coming up anyway. We never charge for . . .” Lucian paused himself, staring at the other two. “We never charge for investigating the strange, weird, downright frightening, or bizarre. Jade is a writer. You know the old saying—it's all grist for the mill. But maybe you'd like to explain just a bit more about what is going on?”
“I don't know, really. Maybe nothing. Maybe it's all imagined. Mostly, at the moment, no matter how bizarre this sounds . . . it's dreams. Both my wife and I . . . her cousin is a Wiccan, and we started out here listening to some wild tales about murder and mayhem in colonial New England. There's the standard concept, of course, that dreams and fear are all brought on by the power of suggestion. And since it's Halloween season here, any manner of creature in the street is acceptable, so the power of suggestion is surely strong. But still . . . there's a weird fog out around here all the time. A blue fog. And there are more strange things . . . hard to explain over the phone. And it's impossible, you see, to really trust anyone here, not that I believe in spells and things like that, but . . . and of course, Wiccans aren't supposed to be evil. Actually, I can't believe I'm calling people who are practically strangers . . . but it was just so odd, too, having met you, seeing the article in the national paper . . . and then the book.”
“Was there something particular in the book?” Lucian asked, looking at the others once again while he waited for the answer.
“Again, I'm sure all this has to do with the power of suggestion, of course. I mean, none of this can be real. But even my wife's family . . . supposed friends . . . are suggesting that I . . . well, they're reminding me that I was in Boston, and, I'll bet, making sure that she knows I was in Boston . . . never mind. There was a murder in Boston. Almost a month ago . . . on the last full moon. I realize I'm not making any sense. It's difficult to suddenly confide in and explain things to people who are . . . well, really strangers. But then . . . if I had to trust in having friends here . . . I think I'd be in a fair amount of trouble. If you're really coming here, I would appreciate the chance to talk with you again.”
“Oh, we're really coming,” Lucian murmured. “We'll see you by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Tomorrow afternoon? You're coming so soon?”
“It's the day before Halloween,” Lucian reminded the caller.
“Right, of course. You know, I was really ready just to walk away. Screw our careers. But Megan was afraid I'd wind up resenting the fact that we had to leave a great job and experience because she was having nightmares. Now I'm afraid she's convinced that I'm a monster myself.”
Maggie was back in the room, holding the baby. She spoke very softly, looking at Lucian. “She's left him,” she said.
Lucian nodded. “Finn, whatever the problem, don't let your wife walk anywhere alone in the dark.”
“What?”
“Just keep an eye on her, no matter what the circumstances.”
There was a long, drawn out pause from the other end. “Did I mention that there were . . . circumstances.”
“Is your wife with you right now?”
“No.”
“Watch out for her,” Lucian said.
“At night. In the darkness . . . he needs to beware of the fog,” Maggie whispered.
Lucian nodded. “The dark hours are when . . . well, you know, when most bad things happen. Don't let her be alone in the dark—or the fog. Take care tonight.”
A sniff sounded over the phone. “I told you that I was ready to throw it all in. Get the hell out of here. Megan thought I'd resent her for what it would do to our careers. And now . . . now, I'm not even sure that I could get her out of here.”
Maggie stared at Sean. “Tell him that it wouldn't have mattered. He'd have wound up back there, one way or the other.”
Lucian repeated Maggie's words. “If something really odd is going on, it probably wouldn't make any difference, whether you were there, or if you'd tried to leave. Circumstances might have conspired to get you back. But don't worry. We'll be there by morning. We're going to check into the old place right off the common. If you don't find us by early afternoon, we'll find you. Jade will have this cell. And, of course, yours is now with our caller ID.”
“Right.”
“We'll see you.”
They rang off. Maggie took her seat again at the end of the table, cradling her now sleeping child. “This guy gets on the phone, and I'm immediately getting some really weird vibes.” She paused, glancing quickly at Jade. “By the way, Aidan is just fine, sleeping soundly.” She turned her attention back to Lucian. “I don't know whether to be afraid of him—or for him. I admit to being totally confused. I knew when you showed up with the luggage that it wasn't going to be an ordinary night playing cards—but neither did you suggest that you were aware something was going to happen—or is happening. You knew this guy was going to call; as soon as he did, I felt something very strange, and I haven't even got the intuition I once had. Still . . . it's so strange. I don't understand what's going on at all,” she said. She hesitated. “There's a conflict there . . . in the man himself, I believe.”
“Yes, there's something there. And yes, a tremendous conflict. But in what way . . . I don't know. It was the same. I knew it the moment I first saw him.”
Lucian rose, and began idly pacing around the table. Maggie stared across the room at Jade, and Jade shrugged, shaking her head in a way that meant that she didn't really understand the situation at all either. Jade felt a prickling at her nape; Lucian and Maggie had known one another a very long time. Jade knew that Maggie loved her husband, just as she believed with her whole heart that Lucian loved her. But there were times when Maggie and Lucian shared those strange instincts and Jade couldn't help but feel a little stab of jealousy. She would never have exactly the same little spark of knowledge that the two shared.
And yet, she loved Maggie as well. She was her best friend.
They were frequently visitors here, as were a number of their other close friends and associates, drawn together despite a few tremendous differences in their lives. It was a wonderful place for friends to get together—an old plantation on the way out from the city. The place had been in Maggie's family for years, just as a neighboring place had belonged to Sean's. It was delightfully big, and far from the bustle and populace of New Orleans. Not that anything odd was really taken note of in New Orleans, but the plantation still offered them all distance and a certain privacy that might not be guaranteed elsewhere.
“What's bothering me is that I can't quite touch it!” Lucian said, coming to a dead standstill and staring at the three of them as if they should understand. “I know . . . I know that something really horrible is about to occur . . . and I'm absolutely convinced that Finn Douglas is a major part of it, and I'm actually surprised that it took him so long to call. He's dealing with a lot of pride, and, of course, he's worried about his sense of sanity, maybe.”
BOOK: The Awakening
8.79Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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