The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1) (9 page)

Suddenly, there was no Julian obscuring her thoughts. Kyle’s kiss seemed to brush away the cobwebs that Julian’s presence always created in her mind. But when Jazzmyn pressed her breasts against his broad chest, Kyle pulled away.

She frantically searched his eyes, unsure if she should slap him or play it cool. Jazzmyn realized at that moment Kyle’s kiss had revealed her true feelings, and she feared she would never be able to hide those feelings from him again.

“I knew you weren’t his,” he softly said.

“I’m not anybody’s, Kyle! Don’t ever come at me like that again or I’ll….”

Kyle grinned, knowing he had figured out part of the puzzle. “The problem is not that I came at you, Jazz. It’s the way I came at you, isn’t it?”

“Get out,” she shouted.

“All right. But this isn’t over.” He turned from her and marched toward the living room entrance.

After Kyle had slammed the front doors closed, Jazzmyn let her body sink back down on the green sofa.

“Now he’ll be impossible,” she complained to the empty room.

When she looked up, she caught sight of the portrait of Odette Livaudais above the mantle. Her mind became engrossed with the plight of the young girl and wondered how Odette could have been so driven to despair that she felt compelled to take her own life. Then Jazzmyn recalled her afternoon with Julian, visiting his home, and the strange tale he had told her of the cruel man who had forced Odette to choose suicide over matrimony.

“Maybe I should take a tip from you and stay away from anyone with the name of Julian Devereau.” She sighed as she remembered the way Julian felt against her, how the nearness of him caused her palms to break out in a sweat. “But I really want him, and I don’t know why.”

Soon the memory of Kyle’s kiss only seemed to add to her confusion. “I know I don’t want him, so why did I kiss him?”

Jazzmyn leaned forward and buried her head in her hands. She struggled to put her feelings for both men in perspective, but after several seconds she gave up. When she lowered her hands away from her face, Mr. JP was standing by the sofa, staring up at her.

“At least I know how I feel about you, big guy.” She scooped the gray tabby up in her arms and stood from the sofa. “Tonight, I can guarantee, you will be the only man I end up sleeping with.”

She carried Mr. JP to the entrance of the living room and reached for the light switch. After she turned off the lights, she noted how the streetlights beyond the french windows cast a pale glow in the living room. Her eyes traveled to the painting of Odette above the fireplace mantle.

“What did he do to you?” she whispered to the portrait.

Jazzmyn shrugged off her curiosity and snuggled her head against a relaxed Mr. JP in her arms. She turned from the living room and headed toward the grand oak staircase. Deciding she had enough problems in her life to consider, Jazzmyn pushed Odette’s unhappy ending from her mind. Odette’s sad life had nothing to do with her. It all happened so long ago, and the hapless circumstances encountered by a heartbroken young girl were fodder better saved for romance books and ghost stories. Jazzmyn reasoned that in today’s busy, technologically driven world, the past was something that no one cared about anymore; except, of course, when watching
Jeopardy
.

Chapter 9

The following morning Jazzmyn set out early for the restaurant, hoping to be gone before Kyle arrived on her doorstep. She wanted to avoid being around him anymore than necessary, and she also needed some time to think before her day began.

As Jazzmyn walked the few blocks to Magazine Street, she noticed how the aroma of spring hung in the misty morning air. The cracked and buckled sidewalk beneath her feet was covered with a fine yellow film of pollen cast off from the thick oak trees lining Fourth Street. Even a few of the cars parked along the curb were laden with the stuff. It was a sure sign that spring had taken hold in New Orleans when cars could be seen darting about the city with the same yellow sheen.

She made her way past the many opulent Garden District homes, yawning repeatedly. Jazzmyn had spent most of the night tossing about in her bed. Images of Julian, and even Odette’s painting, kept wafting in and out of her mind. But the real reason for her restless sleep was not her growing interest in Julian, but her unexpected reaction to Kyle’s kiss. Where had that come from? She knew she cared for Kyle, but want him? Feel desire for him? She had never felt that for him in the past. Well, that wasn’t completely true. There was that one night. Jazzmyn always believed it was the tequila, and not passion, that had motivated their tryst. Now, she wasn’t so sure. 

When she reached Magazine Street and the restaurant came into view, Jazzmyn tried to allay her concerns about the day ahead with Kyle.

“I’ll just pretend nothing happened,” she reassured herself as she walked around the corner to the back entrance. “I’ll play it cool and ignore him.” As she placed her keys in the metal door, she laughed. “Yeah, like that’s going to work, Jazz.” She pulled the heavy door open and stepped inside.

When Jazzmyn opened her office door, she heard a rhythmic tapping coming from the kitchen. After placing her purse on her desk, she followed the sound down the narrow hallway.

“You’re early,” Ms. Helen’s throaty voice called from behind the prep table when Jazzmyn walked into the kitchen. She was chopping a mound of red and green peppers into small pieces.

Jazzmyn approached the prep table. “I wanted to get some paperwork done before I got caught up in the lunch rush.”

“You look tired,” Ms. Helen commented. “You out late with that demon?”

Jazzmyn sighed and shook her head. “Why do you insist on calling him that?”

“That’s what he is. I see that black aura of his. Only two kinds of people got black auras like that; demons and those who are carryin’ a curse.”

Jazzmyn eyed the mound of peppers. “Ms. Helen, what do you know about curses? Are they real?”

Ms. Helen snorted with amusement. “Real as death. Why’d you ask? Somebody been hexin’ you lately?” She swept the mound of peppers from the cutting board into a round metal bowl.

“Julian told me something about a curse on an ancestor of his. The man had been engaged to one of my ancestors, Odette Livaudais.”

Ms. Helen placed the bowl down with a loud clang on the metal table. “You talkin’ ‘bout the satyr’s curse, aren’t you?”

Jazzmyn shrugged. “He just said his ancestor was condemned to a life of misery by Odette’s nurse, a slave named Eve who was skilled in voodoo.”

Ms. Helen wiped her hands on her white apron. “Eve Claudet. She was a slave in the Livaudais household, but for some reason she got her freedom from Henri Livaudais right after Odette killed herself. She practiced voodoo in the city for many years. A lot of powerful men in New Orleans sought her out for magic. Was almost as powerful as Maria Laveau, they say. She was supposed to be real good at curses.”

Jazzmyn leaned her hip against the metal prep table as she folded her arms over her chest. “How come you never told me about any of this until now?”

Ms. Helen picked up her knife from the table. “You never asked until now. Didn’t think you needed to be hearin’ ‘bout curses and voodoo until you were ready.”

“It would have been nice to know something about my family growing up.”

“Why, so you could have nightmares? Child, you had enough to deal with when your momma left. I didn’t need to be puttin’ scary stories in your head.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Jazzmyn paused and then thought of something Ms. Helen had just touched on. “You said something about the satyr’s curse? What is that?”

Ms. Helen put the knife back down on the table. “Odette Livaudais was a good girl and she had many suitors wantin’ her hand in marriage. But the Livaudais family had run into hard times after they sold their plantation, and when a rich merchant asked to arrange a marriage between his son and Odette, Henri Livaudais agreed. He sold his daughter just like he sold his slaves.” Ms. Helen reached for a metal stool to the side of the prep table and had a seat. “Ms. Odette wanted to make her father happy, so she tried her best to please Julian Devereau. But Devereau was a cruel man who was known ‘round town for only bein’ good at two things, drinkin’ and whorin’. Odette was humiliated by Julian and begged her father to call off the engagement. Old Henri was a cold bastard and refused to pay back the dowry. So, rather than face a lifetime of shame, Odette hung herself from one of the oaks out back of your house.” Ms. Helen paused. “They chopped down the tree after she was found and buried her over at old Lafayette Cemetery Number One in your family vault. But Eve Claudet wanted revenge for her baby. She had raised Odette just like her own child. She loved Odette and promised to make Julian Devereau pay, so she cursed him to be just like the mythological satyr.”

Jazzmyn knitted her high brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Julian Devereau was made to hunger after the two things he always chased in life, wine and women. Eve made it so the wine would never quench his thirst and the women would never satisfy his lust. He would become like that creature the satyr, driven by his desires and never to have any relief from them.”

“That would drive most people mad.”

“I ‘spect so,” she agreed.

“But Julian Philippe Devereau spent the rest of his life cursed, chasing women and getting drunk, only to end up dying alone in his big house on Esplanade Avenue. It doesn’t sound like much of a curse to me. Most men would consider that a blessing.”

Ms. Helen grinned. “Who says he died? The curse was forever, Jazzmyn. Julian Devereau didn’t die. He still walks the earth to this day, lookin’ for the one who will free him from his torment.”

“Oh, come on! You’re saying he is still alive, like a vampire roaming the earth to satisfy his lust?”

“Ain’t no such thing as vampires,” Ms. Helen bellowed in her thick voice.

“But cursed men walking around for over a hundred and fifty years are possible,” Jazzmyn scoffed, shaking her head.

Ms. Helen nodded. “All things are possible with voodoo. It’s a powerful force that can bend nature’s will and make a man do things he never would have imagined. I’ve seen it for myself, and I ain’t as powerful a priestess as Eve Claudet was. You heed me, girl, Julian Devereau is still waitin’ for his day of reckonin’.”

Jazzmyn recalled Julian mentioning something about such a day. In fact, a lot of what Ms. Helen told her sounded very similar to what Julian had said.

“What is this day of reckoning?”

Ms. Helen stood from her stool and moved closer to the prep table. “It’s the day the soul is set free from its curse. For the satyr man the curse can only be removed by love. He must be loved by another to be set free.” She picked up her knife from the table. “You see, all them fairy tales were right ‘bout one thing, ‘bout love breakin’ spells and all. Love is the most powerful force in the universe and the hardest to get, but it can break any spell or any curse. That’s why Julian Devereau must find it. He must make amends for the love he threw away with Odette. He’s got to find love with another, a pure love, just like Odette’s.”

“Then what? He goes back to being mortal again?”

Ms. Helen retrieved some red peppers out of a plastic bag to her left. “He turns back into what he would have been had he not been cursed.”

“But what if—”

“Goddamn it, Jazzmyn!” a man’s voice boomed behind her.

She turned to see Kyle standing at the entrance to the kitchen from the hallway, resting his hand against the wall and breathing hard.

“You scared the crap out of me! I ran all the way from your house when you didn’t answer the door. I almost climbed up one of the trees to your balcony to get inside.” He moved into the kitchen. “But I figured I better run over here and call the police first in case something had happened to you.”

“Why didn’t you just call her on her cell phone, genius?” Ms. Helen suggested as she started slicing up the peppers before her.

“Because I didn’t have my phone. I left it here last night,” he told her while still trying to catch his breath,

Ms. Helen watched as he gasped for air. “Boy, you is out of shape.”

He flourished his hand at her. “When was the last time you ran four blocks at a sprint?”

Ms Helen waved her knife in the air. “I would never run in the first place, ‘cause I would’ve made sure I had my cell phone on me.”

His breathing eased a little. “Thank you for those words of wisdom, Ms. Helen.” His icy blue eyes turned to Jazzmyn. “How long have you been here?” he grilled as he came up to her.

“Oh, boy,” Ms. Helen crooned. “You’re gonna be a whole lot of fun in the kitchen today.”

“I left early because I wanted to get some paperwork done before the lunch rush,” Jazzmyn explained, turning away from him.

“Don’t ever do that again, Jazz.” He grabbed her arm and forced her to face him. ”Didn’t you hear anything I said to you last night about those two women being murdered? You need to be—”

“Four women,” Ms. Helen interrupted.

Kyle looked over at her as he let go of Jazzmyn. “Four?”

Ms Helen turned from the prep table and went to the desk at the side of the kitchen. She pulled a newspaper out of her holdall, black leather handbag, and walked over to Kyle, carrying the paper in her hand. “The Times-Picayune says the police found two other girls last month in Jefferson Parish murdered like the two in the city, ripped apart like some kind of animal got to them.” She handed the paper to Jazzmyn. “They’re also sayin’ we might have a serial killer on the loose in New Orleans.”

Kyle grabbed the paper from her. His eyes skimmed over the lead article on the front page. After a few seconds, he looked up at Ms. Helen. “The paper says this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

Ms. Helen nodded. “The man who wrote the article reported there were five women murdered in the same way in the 1970’s. They never caught that guy, either.”  

Kyle slapped the paper with his hand. “See? This is what I’m talking about. You can’t just go walking out of your house without letting someone know where you are. What if this serial killer is watching you, Jazz? You need to be careful.” He tossed the newspaper onto the prep table. “I think I need to come over and stay with you until they catch this creep. You cannot be alone right now.”

Jazzmyn’s mouth fell to the floor. “No, you most certainly will not stay with me! After everything that happened….” She stopped herself. The last thing she wanted was Ms. Helen hearing about their interlude the previous night. 

Ms. Helen’s loud guffaw broke the tension in the room. “You two already sound like an ole married couple.”

“Ms. Helen,” Kyle cried out, glaring at her. “Don’t try to help.”

Ms. Helen pointed her long knife at him. “Careful, boy, or I’ll turn your skinny ass into a toad.”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you do it right now,” Jazzmyn offered.

Ms. Helen put down her knife. “You’re on. I’ll just go and get my gris-gris.” She came around from behind the prep table and took off down the hallway toward the back office.

“Thanks a lot, Jazz.” Kyle threw his hands in the air. “The last time she tried to work her voodoo on me she followed me around the kitchen all day throwing flour in my face.”

“Maybe she can put in an attitude adjustment along with your frog legs,” Jazzmyn remarked as she turned to go.

Kyle gripped her arm again. “Maybe we need to talk about last night.”

Jazzmyn refused to look at him. “There’s nothing to discuss. You took me by surprise. I was shocked, that’s all.”

“You were turned on,” Kyle mumbled into her ear.

Her dark green eyes flashed up at him. “You arrogant bastard! I was not turned on.”

Kyle moved his face closer to hers. “You were turned on, Jazz. Admit it. I do something to you, something that fancy peacock of a wino doesn’t do.”

She shirked off his arm. “Julian is a gentleman, which is something I’m sure you have never been with any woman.”

Kyle stood back from her, grinning. “I can be a gentleman, if that’s what you want. Why don’t you cancel your date with the wino and go out on a date with me instead? I’ll cook dinner for you, open up a nice bottle of wine, and we can come up with a plan for world peace. How does that sound?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Sounds like you’ll order a pizza from Rocky’s, open a bottle of tequila, and then try to get me into bed.”

His blue eyes widened with interest. “Your version sounds a hell of a lot more fun, don’t you think?”