A Late Summer Bloom (3 page)

Unable to
tear her gaze away from the ghastly creature,
Joyal
cried
out when the long nails seemed to reach out and touch her. She buried her head
in the chest of the man who stood solid and steadfast in his spot. But a
horrible smell slowly surrounded her until she felt like it was on top of them.
She buried her head, no longer feeling safe. The evil slithered up her legs and
wrapped around her torso like a snake, making her gag. The putrid smell, the
feel of slimy, scaly skin beneath her fingertips, all indicated a warlock.

As the
truth came to light, she lifted her eyes. The trusted stranger showed his true
self. He was a warlock. Standing in the midst of a raging storm, in the clutch
of evil,
Joyal’s
legs gave way. Confused, she stole
another glance at the darkness and realized it was a mirror image at which she
peered. She was indeed in the creature’s grip. All at once, it grabbed the
sides of her head, immobilizing her and demanded she open her mouth. When she
refused, the warlock’s eyes promised death. Keeping her mouth closed tight, it
dug its knifelike nails into her stomach slicing a gaping hole into her skin.
It twisted its finger into her gut and in a raspy, wicked voice said, “Make it
easy, girl, or I’ll feed you your own organs before I devour your soul. Open
your mouth!”

The pain
was indescribable, and her will far too weak to resist seeking relief. Even if
it meant dying,
Joyal
needed the pain to stop. Her
body convulsed in agony. Knowing her coven would try to rescue her, she also
knew they would fail. With her very last bit of resolve, she twisted in the
warlock’s grasp causing unspeakable pain. She watched his eyes glow with a
feral lust of death as he realized she would surrender. She opened her mouth.
Visions of a future filled with the promise of love and laughter were the last
thing she imagined before the warlock ended her life. The beast sucked the soul
from her body, trapping it in his essence as he gobbled her organs one by one.

Chapter Four

Washington, Louisiana

Giselle
Jareau
stood outside the home she
shared with Angelique Fayette. Over the last nine years, she grew to love the
little yellow farmhouse, framed by a white picket fence and lined with lilacs.
Standing under the swaying trees dripping with Spanish moss, her dark exotic
looks were in complete contrast to the sun’s rays. The air hung heavy, but the
setting sun provided a bit of relief from the blistering heat of summer. She
reveled in the smell of the fresh cut grass. Twilight was her favorite time of
the day, even on one of the worst days of the year.
Her birthday.
While most people celebrated with balloons and cake, she never did. Fearing her
birthday and everything it signified
,
Giselle always tried
her best to forget.

As she approached the porch, her eyes glazed over, as if a veil was
pulled over her corneas, skewing her vision. Putting her hands out in front of
her, she grabbed the railing. The vision came on fast this time and, like so
many times before, she was powerless to stop it. Clutching at the pendant given
to her by her mother, what she saw behind the veil left her cold and shaken to
her very core.

A hideous creature, covered in slime, black blood dripping from its
fangs, lapped at a human liver. It rejoiced in its kill. And, with each bite it
took, its decaying skin grew plumper, its coloring changing from whitish yellow
to pinkish peach. Like an old, withered flower, dried out and rotted, that
turned into a brilliant blossom, the creature’s rotted flesh was repairing. Its
yellowed, sick eyes were filling in with brilliant color and its hair was
becoming thick and lush. It was growing younger with age, its fingers growing
thick and rounded at the tips.

As it continued to scarf the remains of its victim, the green fangs turned
pearly white, its pointy ears rounding out. Taking the form of a young man,
Giselle fought to keep the vision in her sight. But just like before, she was
helplessly trapped by her curse and the vision faded.

When it was over, she caught sight of Angelique walking toward her.
With her hand on her lower back, Angelique winced as she moved. In her other
hand, she held a small lavender satchel, resembling potpourri, attached to a
rope. She hung it around Giselle’s neck. “With the aid of your pendant, this
will help you to know that what you see is not in front of you, but elsewhere.
Although you may feel like it is happening in the same space, you need to know
you are powerless to stop it. The visions tell you what has already happened.”

“Already happened?”

“They called a few minutes ago. A young witch by the name of
Joyal
Beaumont was devoured by a warlock in the woods where
you were born. They are getting bold, Giselle. To get that close to Cottonwood
Landing tells us we must act.”

“The visions are getting closer to real time. Maybe they will start to
come in advance and I can stop things before they happen.”

Her friend offered her a compassionate smile.
“Maybe.”

There was never a positive response to her wishful thinking, and it
frustrated Giselle. “My mother was right. The veil is a curse.”

“You don’t have a curse. You have a gift. And we will find out what the
veil can do for the coven. You must tell them.”

“No! What if—? Do you believe I have a gift? All these years I’ve
watched you study me, questioning if one day I will turn into the very thing
that haunts my visions.”

“You must believe in yourself, Giselle. You were chosen by the gods to host
the tenth power. There is a reason,
Mon
Cheri
.”

“Believe in myself? The way you have? The way the royals have? By
keeping me at arm’s length?
To what?
Test the waters?
See if I turn?”

“Your mother hasn’t been very forth-coming about your blood, Giselle.
But, all these years, I’ve watched you grow into a young woman who is far too
compassionate and loving to be of bad blood. It is time to show them all that
you are the chosen one with the gift of the tenth power.”

Giselle placed her hands on her hips. Choking back tears of frustration,
she paced. “What gift? I suck at magic. If that’s a gift, they can have it back
for all I care. I’m nineteen years old and have no life to speak of.
Nothing to live for.
I hate witch-hood!” She ran into the
house, slamming the screen door behind her.

****

Angelique knew Giselle looked to her for everything. Abandoned by her
mother, she tried hard to offer her support and guidance, and tried to teach only
what was necessary. But, unsure of
her
 
bloodline
, Angelique worried for her.
She struggled to remain steadfast, but Giselle’s longing for a normal childhood
pulled at her heartstrings. Now, she was afraid that, by giving in to Giselle,
she damned them all.

When she glanced toward the setting sun, the bile rose up in her throat
as she felt the evil stake its claim. The battle was coming and everything
would change. And Angelique feared Giselle wouldn’t care one way or the other.

Chapter Five

Julien Beaumont stood in a golden chamber amid a running stream. Green
moss climbed the marble columns leading up to the glass-enclosed dome. Birds
could be heard chirping as the chamber mimicked the sounds of a rain forest. It
had the distinct smell of wet leaves. With patience, he waited for the master
to appear, but the crushing sense of loss for his little sister
Joyal
was hammering his emotions and his nerves began to
betray him. His throat felt tight as he fought hard to keep the sadness at bay.
Fisting his hands was the only way to help him focus on his anger instead of
his grief.

With nothing but time, Julien explored the stream that seemed so oddly
placed, watching the small fish leap from the water in a playful chase.

When he knelt down, he stared at his reflection.
Joyal
,
his little sister, resembled him. Her words echoed through his mind and made
him chuckle. “Julien, you’re the perfect specimen of a man. All the witches
love your dark-golden hair and green eyes. You’re a witch magnet. Settle down.
Twenty-nine is way old already. What are you waiting for? You need to start
having babies.” She loved to scold.

Though he looked rugged, with his broad shoulders and muscular frame, Julien
possessed a gentle nature. Many witches came seeking his offspring, but he always
shied away from impregnating them. His was a respected coven. His parents
encouraged him to reproduce. Why he never did, he wasn’t sure. Unable to look
at himself any longer, he rose up and began to pace.

Julien’s rage against the warlock
Judias
,
brought him to this place. And he wasn’t leaving without
his immortality and the powers of a traveler. Fury shook his body when his
impatience flared. So much so, he could hear his own bones rattle. It was then
an old man, wearing ancient robes appeared near the stream. “I am the master,
my son.”

Julien immediately went down on his knee. “I am Julien Beaumont. I come
seeking vengeance against the warlock,
Judias
, in the
name of my sister,
Joyal
Beaumont. I will hunt day
and night to find and rid our world of the existence of this warlock and many
others. I pledge my loyalty and service to you, master.”

The master, who somewhat resembled a sorcerer of old, stared at him. In
a slow, controlled movement, the master extended his hand, palm up. When he
lifted his arm in an upward motion, Julien felt his body slowly being coaxed to
rise up by an unseen force. The master was quiet as he studied him. “You have
anger in your heart.”

No shit, Sherlock!
Unable to respond, Julien stared back. Then,
without thinking, he retorted, “My sister was devoured like an animal outside
the gates of Cottonwood Landing! Cottonwood Landing! You can say I’m having a
bad fucking day. A witch to the tenth power walks among us and has done nothing
to help the royals stop these soul-sucking warlocks from destroying our race. I
was schooled by the elders, I’ve heard the stories. Being taken by a warlock
isn’t pretty! It’s a horrible way to die. You’re the master. Where is the tenth
power? I heard she may be of
Natas
’ blood. If that’s
true, we’re all fucked. But please, I beg you, at least give me the chance to
free my sister’s soul from
Judias
.”

Julien took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he realized just
how free he was with his tongue. The master, an ancient prophet and the highest
ranking royal bestowed with the gift of immortality, remained quiet.
Too quiet.
Julien hung his head.
Fuck! I blew it!
When the master cleared his throat, his head
snapped up.

“I accept your allegiance, Julien Beaumont. However, there is much more
at stake than your sister’s soul. You will have your chance at
Judias
, but only after you have proven your worthiness.”

With his eyes wide, he nodded his head. “Yes.
Of
course.
I will do whatever is necessary. I will pass any test. Push me
to my physical limit, I will not fail. I will not let you down.”

The master held his robe with one hand as he moved fluidly across the
chamber.

Did he just float?

“The test before you will challenge not your body or mind, but your
heart. Once you leave this chamber, you will possess all the abilities that
make our travelers great.
Shifting, greater power—immortality.
You just might find yourself reluctant to return to your previous status. But,
you can. Here, you have free will.”

The master’s light was so
great,
he sent beams
of white energy through every orifice, causing Julien to look away. “Thank you,
master,” was all he managed to choke out.

The master moved to a cage, housing two precious lovebirds. Reaching
inside with an open hand, the two birds jumped inside his palm. He pulled them
out, holding them up to his face. “I have been Master of the realm for
centuries, Julien. And I’ve seen much evil in my existence. I’ve watched the
warlocks slowly destroy the kindness of a world that is all but gone. They grow
in number every day, convinced by
Natas
, the
commander of the underworld, to join his ranks. The life you are choosing is
not an easy one. You will seek and destroy warlocks all over the world.”

“I understand.”

“Very well.”
With outstretched arms, he held the lovebirds high
up. When they flew up into the glass dome, there was a loud pop. A light misty
smoke was all that remained. Julien listened intently as the master spoke with
an easy flowing pitch. “I’ve crossed them over to the earthly realm where they
will flit about. Once crossing into this realm, there is only one way back.” He
pointed up. “Molecules, Julien. I have to turn you to dust.”

Julien lifted his brow. “Whatever it takes, Master.”

Chuckling, the master continued. “First, you must train. Learn our
ways.”