Cursed by Lizzy Ford Page B

don’t care. I need to see her again.”
    “Baron Samedi will dig her grave one day.”
    “But he hasn’t yet. I refuse to let her go.”
    Togoun never said anything more. He peered into Jax’s eyes as if looking for his soul then picked up the spell.
    Jax handed him the normal fee: enough money to pay for Togoun’s rent for the month.
    “I will need more blood next time,” Togoun said, accepting the payment.
    “No problem.” Jax stood.
    “Be careful, cousin. One of the original four Houses has returned to New Orleans. This family bears a curse strong enough to harm any involved with it. The Toussaints are unhappy about it, and your own DuBois relatives are worried.”
    Been there. Done that. “Yeah, thanks.”
    “You know this House?” Togoun asked.
    “I do. St. Croix. One of them moved here a long time ago,” Jax replied.
    “Therese St. Croix,” Togoun said, realization crossing his features. “The girl you mourn every month.”
    “Yeah. I met her the summer after I graduated college. Her sister is here. She’s harmless. Tell the Toussaints not to interfere,” Jax said firmly. “She’s under the protection of House DuBois.”
    “Does your uncle know this?”
    “My word is enough.”
    Togoun dropped his gaze at Jax’s sharp look.
    “My uncle is the head of the family, but these are my streets, Togoun,” Jax said quietly. “Just do what I tell you.”
    “I know.”
    Jax turned and left. He tucked the cool clay jar in his pocket and stalked out of the shop. He tugged his mask back on then pulled up his hood. The apartment building where he lived was between the coffee shop and where Therese used to live, a lengthy walk across wards and through back alleys patrolled by his crew. He greeted a few as he crossed their paths. His brother, Rene, was probably on his way to the Irish Channel after taking care of their mother, who was confined to a wheelchair. Though he could throw down as well as any other member of LO, Rene was more sensitive than Jax had ever been to the emotions of those around him. He’d taken on the responsibility of caring for their mother, which Jax should have done.
    Jax trotted up to the second floor where his apartment was.
    Since he’d seen Adrienne, he hadn’t been able to think clearly. Normally, he waited for Rene to take their mother on her monthly trip to a special clinic in Baton Rouge. Jax stayed at her row house for two days while they were gone. He usually performed the rite in the attic of his mother’s home.
    He only needed twenty-four hours. The black magic that drew Therese’s wandering spirit into the body Jax chose for her never lasted longer and many days, didn’t make it past twelve hours.
    Jax’s pulse was flying by the time he reached for his doorknob. In under an hour, he’d rid himself of the need and pain he’d felt since running into Adrienne.
    “Loa Yemaya, goddess of femininity and protector of those who cross between life and death,” he whispered. “I know it’s not a full moon, but I beg of you and my ancestors to bless me tonight and forgive me for any harm I cause.”
    He opened the door to his apartment. It was quiet, aside from the rustling that came from his bedroom. He locked his door and tossed his jacket then went to the kitchen. There was no food in the cramped space. He’d converted it into a shrine for Baron Samedi and another for the loa Ogoun, the warrior god that watched over his family.
    Jax lit candles and knelt, praying to the various spirits, gods and goddesses.
    “I seek your forgiveness and your compassion for what I am about to do. Samedi, guide her spirit true. Ogoun, give me strength and Yemaya, keep my hands steady, so that I may feel the beauty of the female spirit. I will bring you my sacrifice after the rite. Amen.”
    He pulled the clay bottle out of his pocket and reached for the blood-flecked knife on the counter. Adrenaline raced through him to the point of his ears roaring. He pulled his mask off and his