Léopold's Wicked Embrace (Immortals of New Orleans) (22 page)

“Or so they believed. Mesoamerican history. It’s a hobby,” Jake made invisible quote marks with his fingers, “Let’s just say not all the ‘sacrifices’ went willingly on the way up to get their beating heart cut out.”

“They tore out their hearts? I thought that stuff was just in the movies.” Laryssa cringed.

“‘Fraid not. It was done at different times of the year, with specific kinds of victims as a way to give an offering so to speak, sometimes to help the gods do their job. They needed help with survival, their land, growing crops and such.”

“What kind of gods would want death?” Laryssa challenged.

“There were many times during the year that human sacrifice was required. It was pretty much a monthly event. As for which gods? You know…the usual suspects. Rain. Sun. Wind.”

“And water. Let’s not forget the goddess responsible for water.” Ilsbeth’s mouth drew tight as the others anticipated her next words. “Chalchiuhtlicue. Some say she was married to the rain god. Some say she was the sister. Counterparts perhaps?”

“So with all this sacrifice going on, I imagine that brings about some bad juju,” Dimitri surmised.

“Whether these ancient gods and goddesses exist or existed, is of little consequence. What is of importance is that there are beings who revel in death. Torture. Murder. Evil thrives on it. Like spores in a petri dish, the heat of evil cultivates the seed, it grows,” Ilsbeth told them.

“Grows into what?” Laryssa asked her. A pregnant pause filled the room. “What does it grow into?”

“Demons,” Ilsbeth responded.

“But I thought
demons
were kind of like fallen angels.” Laryssa pensively pressed her lips together. She hated even saying the word.

“Indeed, they are lost to the underworld. But demons can be called to the surface by the nefarious intentions of the flesh, by man,” Ilsbeth explained. “It is why we do not speak of the one they serve. The heinous act of the taking of innocent lives, through means such as human sacrifice, can summon forth a demon into our world, albeit temporarily. Even while in their netherworld, they seek to steal souls…often during death. More often than not, the soul does not belong to them.”

“Death?” Laryssa asked.

“Indeed. Tell me, Laryssa,” Ilsbeth stood from her chair. She walked over to an antique oak apothecary cabinet, which spanned an entire wall of the room. Its bottom half housed hundreds of square drawers, neatly labeled and organized, each with its own brass label finger pull handle. Bottles and containers of various sizes lined the five rows of wooden shelves. “What did you see when you died? A light?”

“No, nothing like that. It was peaceful but all I really saw was this lady. She was glowing and then she touched me, sending me back. But…” Laryssa tried to recall the experience. It sounded crazy, she knew. “I didn’t see it. I just felt it. Something dark. Like when I see the hollow-eyed people that come after me…the dark ones. I don’t just see them. I can feel them, the evil, down to my bones. I guess Avery told you about them. She’s been helping me hide for so many years.”

“The Lady stole you from the demon. Or at least this is what it perceives. It was there, trying to take you. You did not have a clear death. No, for naiads, they see the Lady.”

“But who is she?”

“Some think she is Chalchiuhtlicue herself…giving life or taking it away as she sees fit. A deity of water, she rules the lakes, the rivers. Even childbirth. Or rebirth, perhaps? Others disagree with this hypothesis entirely, calling naiads daughters of Zeus or Poseidon. Whoever the Lady is, she grants life to young women who die within her arms. But there’s a price that comes with the breath of life she breathes into her chosen ones.”

“The water,” Laryssa whispered.

“You can’t live without it. Stray too far from her home and you will die.”

“Why does a demon want an ancient Aztec knife? And why does it need her to get it?” Léopold inquired, reaching for Laryssa’s hand. “It’s given us a week to find it. It’s threatening to kill the infant.”

“All very good questions.” Ilsbeth slid open a drawer and pulled out a clothed item. Setting it on the counter, she reached for a small clear glass bottle and uncorked it. “I’m very happy to help you, provide answers to what you seek, but as Léopold knows, I do not assist without remuneration. You see, as a witch, I cast many spells. Spells which require ingredients. Some are quite common. Like castor oil, for example. Or yarrow root. There’re things more difficult to acquire, such as, shifter hair. You know, like wolf hair, perhaps freshly ripped from its root.” she gave Dimitri a cold smile and continued. “But it is the very rare ingredients that I treasure. Like a scale of a virgin dragon, perhaps. Or the fang of a vampire.”

Dimitri’s eyes darted to Léopold. He wished like hell his friend could read minds because he knew as sure as he was sitting in the room what Ilsbeth was going to ask…demand. He’d given her his own hair as a peace offering. He offered. She took. He was still waiting on the peace.

“You can see that when I’m presented with such a prize, I must have it. The blood of a naiad. Now that is very rare, indeed.”

“No fucking way,” Léopold told her, jumping to his feet.

Placing himself between Laryssa and Ilsbeth, he protectively guarded her. The wolves followed his lead, readying for attack. Shocked at the suggestion that Ilsbeth would ask for her blood, Laryssa clasped at Léopold’s shoulders, hoisting herself to her feet.

“Tsk, Tsk, Léopold. You were always such an alarmist. Really, it’s just a tiny bit of blood I need.” She held up the bottle to the light and then set it down again. Methodically, she unfolded the cloth, revealing a simple brass athame. “But it must come willingly or else it shall be tainted. It must be a gift. A gift in exchange for my knowledge and advice. I believe it’s a fair arrangement.”

“No. There must be another way,” Léopold stormed. No way in hell was he letting that devious witch cut open Laryssa, slitting her like a chicken’s throat.

“I’ll do it,” Laryssa volunteered. Her voice was soft but strong as she pushed past Léopold.

Dimitri fell back into the sofa, aware that Léopold was about to go ballistic. He nodded to Jake who followed his actions.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Laryssa? No way. As in, no way in hell am I letting you do this,” Léopold raged, blocking her way.

“I’ve got to do this,” she told him firmly.

“No, you don’t. We’ll find another way.”

“We can’t afford to waste time. Ilsbeth can help us. You saw what happened to me last night.” Laryssa’s eyes brimmed in moisture as she raised her hand to him, gently caressing his cheek. “You must trust me. Please, Leo. I need answers.”

Her pleading tore at his heart.
Goddammit
. He knew she needed answers, but why the hell did it need to involve knives and blood? Her blood? It was true; they had little time to find what the demon sought. Perhaps even less time to find a way to kill it. With his eyes on hers, he solemnly nodded in agreement.

“I’ll be okay,” she told Léopold as he kissed her palm. He held her wrist but she pulled away, walking toward Ilsbeth. “Let’s do this thing.”

“Naiads are known for their bravery. That is also why some see them as dangerous. Come give me your wrist,” Ilsbeth instructed.

Laryssa pushed up her sleeve, allowing Ilsbeth to take her arm. Léopold came up behind her, surrounding her with his strength. She felt him support her forearm, his warm breath on her ear.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, ma chérie,” he whispered, with a kiss to her neck. His eyes caught Ilsbeth who was watching him like a hawk. “Be gentle with her.”

“Léopold, darling. You act as if I’m a novice witch wielding a kitchen cleaver. Would you like a demonstration of my power?” She smiled while busily preparing the bottle with a glass funnel. Ilsbeth found Léopold’s fascination with Laryssa interesting. Well aware of Léopold’s limited capacity for expressing his emotions, she grew concerned.

“No, I don’t. But heed my words. Be careful,” he grumbled.

“Can we just get this over with? How bad can it be? Now that we’re on the topic, why can’t we just do it like they do at the doctor’s office? Haven’t witches heard of hypodermic needles? They hurt, too, but very efficient. Safe.” Laryssa’s eyes widened as Ilsbeth held the shiny athame up to the sky as if she were worshipping the sun.
Why the hell did I volunteer to do this again? Oh yeah, scaly demon from hell. Wants to make me his bitch.
Nervously, she bit her lip as the witch began to chant. “Hey, don’t you think that you should use alcohol? I don’t want to get some kind of an infection.”

Laryssa tried to control her racing pulse, but lost her concentration. Her eyes widened as Ilsbeth seized her wrist. If it weren’t for Léopold’s calming presence behind her, she would have bolted out the door.

“Seriously, I think I might have an alcohol pad in my purse somewhere. Ahhhhh,” she screamed as the blade sliced through her skin. Her natural instinct was to pull her arm away, but the damn witch was strong, holding the dripping wound over the funnel. “Shit, that hurts. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Okay, I think that is enough. You said you only needed a few drops.”

“You’re okay, mon amour,” Léopold whispered.

Mon amour. Did that arrogant vampire just call me his love in front of all these people?

“Mon amour? Seriously? I thought we just agreed that I wasn’t your girlfriend, mister ‘I don’t do relationships’?” she jibed. Laryssa tried to turn her head to yell at him but he easily held her in place. His laughter filled her ears. “Okay, look, the bottle is halfway full already. I hope someone brought orange juice. Or cookies. Sweet baby Jesus, that hurts.”

“I must say, Léopold, this naiad is a live one. Spirited. She’d make a good match for you,” Ilsbeth surmised

“Strong-willed. I think that is the term she prefers.” The sweet scent of Laryssa’s blood filled his nostrils, and Léopold struggled to ignore her bleeding incision.

“All done, now. See how easy that was?” Ilsbeth sang, delighted with her prize.

“Easy? Easy?” Laryssa’s voice began to get louder. “What the hell? Alcohol, people. Band-Aids. Anyone here ever heard of first aid?” She looked over to Dimitri and Jake, who were snickering on the sofa.

“Yeah, laugh it up, wolf boys. It’s not your blood.”

“This,” Ilsbeth held up a clear plastic bottle, “is river water. Why give you a Band-Aid when you can easily heal yourself?”

“No, no, no. I really don’t think that’s sanitary,” Laryssa insisted. But as soon as it hit her skin, the energy spread throughout her arm, instantly ceasing the pain. Within seconds, the water flowing from her cut turned from dark red to pink to clear. “Oh thank God. My wrist is healing. I’ve never tried that. It’s worked in the river, but that’s just amazing.”

“A little trust, please. I do know what I’m doing,” Ilsbeth said, handing her a clean towel. “And that, my friends, is the magic of a naiad…among other things.”

Léopold took the towel from Laryssa and gently dried her arm and fingers. She gave him a small knowing smile as he did so
. Mon amour. My love. What is it with this man?
For someone who didn’t want a girlfriend, he acted differently. He’d been caring, protective. As his eyes drifted from her hands to her eyes, it was as if she could detect a hint of understanding. Whether he’d admit it or not, there was something developing between them. Her heart constricted as he placed a kiss to her small scar.

“I don’t mean to interrupt whatever’s going on between you two, but you do want to hear more about how to find the Tlalco Tecpatl. Or did you just spill blood to give me a hostess gift?” Ilsbeth put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes, flicking her long fingernails.

Both Léopold and Laryssa snapped out of their trance, quickly moving to sit back down.

“Oui, let’s hear it.”

“Naiads have existed for centuries, as have demons. My theory is that this demon was initially brought forth to the surface of our world by the Aztecs. No doubt, there’s been much evil and death over time, but since it seeks this particular artifact, it’s tied to it somehow. The demon calls it by name as if it belongs to it. Unfortunately, for you,” Ilsbeth looked to Laryssa, “it also calls you by name. I believe when you died, it was there. It claimed your soul for itself. It does not matter whether or not it was the demon’s to begin with. Demons lie, steal, murder. The interesting thing about this Tecpatl, this knife, it is rumored to be able to destroy those who claim it.”

“Why can’t the demon just go get the knife itself?”

“Because it can’t. It is hidden to the demon. Your sisters before you have documented instances of demons seeking artifacts from them. They’ve hidden them, cursed them so that even if the demon knew of its location, it could not get it by itself. It needs you to find it, bring it willingly.”

“Why does it expect me to just hand over the artifact?”

“Because it will threaten you or kill someone you love, someone you care about. And if you want to destroy it, you’ll need to get close enough to kill it by your own hand, Laryssa. Only a naiad can send it back to its creator. You must use the Tlalco Tecpatl to kill it. Do you understand what I’m saying? Only you can do this. No one else. That is the disadvantage of that particular weapon.”

“Can we just do some kind of exorcism? Find a priest?” Laryssa asked.

“No, this demon is linked to you. It believes you belong to it. If it gets its way, not only will it get the Tecpatl, it’ll have you too. A demon’s courtesan, as you will.”

Laryssa felt her face grow hot as panic swirled through her mind. How could this happen? She’d been so careful to hide, to keep her powers concealed from others.

“Are you saying that we have to kill this demon with the Tecpatl or it will take her…forever? There must be some other way,” Léopold objected.

“She knew this. What did it say to you?” Ilsbeth pressed Laryssa for an answer.

Laryssa nodded slowly in defeat. “The demon…it told me I’d belonged to it since I died, but I just assumed it was crazy or something. It…it began to touch itself. It was horrible. Please, I can’t say what it was doing.”