Free Raisonne Curse by Rinda Elliott Page A

their eyes alone. Something was vaguely familiar about them—the shape of broad, male shoulders, the cut of hair. And they stood in threes.
    They reminded her of the generations of Bernaux brothers in the photographs. She opened her mouth to ask what they wanted but like her body, her voice was frozen in her chest. Completely helpless, she could only watch as they stood silently, could only wait to see what they wanted.
    It seemed to go on forever. Inside, she became a vibrating mass of fear and frustration. The frustration came from her growing desperate need to know what they wanted from her. For they wanted something—that was obvious. She couldn’t see faces, but their pain—their terrible, terrible pain—scented rotten in the air, like a water-logged corpse pulled from the swamp and left in the sun.
    Something moved in the corner, and her gaze shot to land on the smudge man as he slithered in the air toward her. He circled the stalwart, staring ghosts, and as he came closer, her fear increased until she began to shake from it. She could sense his intent to hurt her while she lay helpless, could literally taste the oily hatred he leaked into the room.
    He moved to dart between two of the standing spirits and they stepped together, blocking him. The shadowy figure slithered around to slip between others and each time, they stepped together to block him. Years of Bernaux as sentinels. She knew that was who they were.
    Why did they protect her?
    She didn’t have a chance to find out because she woke up for real to find it was still light outside. Elita sat up, holding her breath as she looked around the room which was now bright and obviously empty. Her heart beat hard in her chest and she put a fist there as she searched every corner in the room.
    She couldn’t see the smudge man now…but she still felt his presence.

Chapter Five
    She found the shorts and a shirt on the top of the steps outside the door. Pryor had even taken her dirty shoes and left a pair of kid’s rain boots. She stared at the yellow boots, amusement managing to briefly break through, but she was still too shaken up for it to stick. Hands trembling, she hurriedly pulled on the black shorts and T-shirt, her gaze darting around the room, searching for shadowy figures, including the one that had turned her life into a living nightmare the last few weeks.
    The boots were a little small, but anything was better than walking barefoot out there. Her purse was still where she’d left it on the bed last night. She carried it into the bathroom and shut the door behind her—as if that could keep any lingering ghosts out. They could be in here with her now. She didn’t always see them. One look at her overly pale face and big eyes made her glad she kept a few makeup basics in her bag because she…well, she looked like she’d seen a ghost.
    She found blush, half-melted lipstick and mascara. It went a long way to making her look less scared.
    Too bad she couldn’t do something for her emotional state.
    She dropped her lipstick, bent to pick it up and realized that the pain in her back wasn’t bad. Turning, she lifted her shirt and stood on her toes to see in the tiny mirror over the freestanding sink. She’d lost the bandage sometime during last night’s fiasco, but the new wound opening looked days old instead of less than twenty-four hours. She touched it and it was still faintly sore, but not what she’d expect. She turned her arm to see that the new wound from yesterday’s tangle with the bathroom cabinet was nearly healed as well.
    Something Pryor had done had started her on a faster healing process.
    Shock ran through her like an electrical current. Had those blisters on his hand been worse because he’d not only been trying to remove a hex, but heal her as well?
    Elita turned back to the mirror. Sweat already glistened in the hollow of her throat, so she brushed her hair and pulled the thick mass up into a ponytail.
    She stared at her