MATURE READERS ONLY! SEXUAL CONTENT PRESENT!
"Laveau?" Damon repeats, hairs on the back of his neck raising in caution and excitement. "Like the voodoo queen?"
"Something like that," Nala whispers, her lips pressing sensual kisses along the sided of...
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Chapter 28: History Repeating
Lavaeu's historically weren't known for their exemplary temperance. Giving new meaning to "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned", Nala teleported home, a beginner trick she'd learned when she was only thirteen years old. She couldn't jump states, but if she thought hard enough about her destination—she'd find herself simply appearing there.
Her front door slammed with a resounding thud, the broom that hung above it rattling against its hook. Nala kicked her purple slides to the side haphazardly, her bare feet stomping against hardwood floors—it followed up the stairs, continuing up even more as the attic entrance opened with the twitch of her nose. Nala forced herself to take a breath as she entered her sacred space, shifting over to her wall of herbs to break off a piece of dark sage. Sliding a match over the striking surface, the red tip lit ablaze, it's fiery blaze eating away at the herb. Blowing it out, she covered the smoke with a bowl to allow its dusky stain to cover thoroughly.
Candles of all shapes and sizes lit on their own accord, it's shaky light illuminating the room. "Am I to be concerned, child?"
Nala flinched at the authoritative tone, the strong presence of the one and only Marie Lavaeu beckoned behind her. "Concerned about what, Granny?"
Marie Lavaeu frowned, sashaying around the attic, the flowing length of her blood red skirt skimming the hardwood floor. "Don't play coy with me, I watch you all the time."
Her granddaughter raised a brow, her lips twisting in disdain. "All the time? Like, even when I'm—"
"Don't flatter yourself, girl. And stop evading my question, you're becoming a little too interested in the vampire boy and the company you keep don't have a self-preserving bone in their bodies." It would appear as odd to anyone else, the way Nala was talking to a ghost; a ghost who compulsively tidied up little jars and spilled ashes. But Nala had always been more comfortable with the dead—the main benefactor in her obsession with necromancy in her younger years. "I worry about the amount of power you've been accumulating, if you aren't careful you'll draw unwanted attention from The Council."
"I doubt the Council is worried about the likes of little old me. I've stayed under the radar—I barely ever go to the astral anymore ever since they started tracking it." Nala grabbed a wrap, one that felt of silk and was colored such a rich shade of plum that Marie reminded herself to find one that was similar in the spirit world. She wrapped it around her hair, twisting and tying the fabric until her curls were left in a pretty pile at the top of her head. "Plus, it's not like I've committed any murders or massacres or anything of that sort."
"Not this time, no." Marie sighed, resting her perfectly manicured hands on her hips. "I just want you to be safe, baby. You have a tendency to let the power get to your head and I was just checking in on you."
