Free Bayou Baby by Renee Miller

another white, and the sweet rum left behind by her tormentors. She placed the rum with the red candle next to the door. Near the wardrobe, she set three pieces of candy from a dish near the mirrored dresser. Placed on the floor as they were, the items looked harmless; odds and ends forgotten by Rosaline, but when Rowan called the spirits next time, they’d find their rewards and know they’d come to the right place.
    Next, Rowan went to the tray sitting on the stand next to the bed, her long forgotten dinner, a stew with potatoes, shrimp, and corn, blended with a white sauce. Hoping it would please the spirits, she moved the small stand to the door, which was no small feat with the throbbing pain in her muscles. Rowan set the food and the white candle inside a chipped blue and white basin she moved from the top of the wardrobe, and placed the basin on a stand.
    Finally, Rowan used the powders, meant to perfume her body, to draw the pattern Mama Gator had shown her on the floor. At the heart of the circular pattern, she added a pentagram, and then sat before it to call her spirits.
    “Atibon Legba, open the gate for me,” she murmured. A tremor went through her. She relaxed. Her lips curved into a smile. “Ago Ellegua.”
    Rowan glanced to the door to be sure it remained closed. Swamp rat indeed, they would see what a rat could do to them.
    She murmured her prayer to the spirit Mama Gator said had followed her from birth. At first, the idea that something had hidden in the shadow and watched her for sixteen years had frightened her, but Mama Gator had shown her how to manage the spirit if she needed to call him. He was her mate, her protector, and asked only for her faithfulness. Not once had she asked anything in return. Mama Gator insisted that she should practice the call, speaking with him to understand his needs. Rowan hadn’t fully grasped the things Mama Gator told her to look for. She found it hard to believe in someone who’d never spoken to her, although the old woman claimed to hear him often, but in that moment, Rowan had to believe there was a force out there watching over her. If the spirits couldn’t help, then she was alone and Rowan couldn’t bear that thought. Besides, Mama Gator didn’t tell tales. Even if she hadn’t done the ritual exactly right, the spirit would come. Spirits knew when they were needed, and it pleased them to help. They would seek revenge for her.
    When she murmured her wish, an energy entered her, coiling in her belly and sending shivers down her spine. Closing her eyes as the spirit filled the room, she smiled. “Welcome Damballah. It is time.”
    Suddenly the ache left her body. Rowan moved to her feet, new strength filling her battered soul. She gathered her tools, scattering the powder across the floor, no need for them to know what she’d been up to.

CHAPTER 9
    Rowan woke, the house still in darkness, and rolled onto her side. She tried not to think of the night before, but snapshots of faces, of feeling, pain, and sensations, flitted through her mind. Tears burned her eyes. It would be so easy to break, but she was stronger than that. Finally, she controlled her spirit; felt him urging her to keep fighting. A fighter didn’t lie about crying like a baby.
    After lunch, much of which Rowan hid between the mattresses and under the bed, along with the candles and the basin, two men came up to remove everything but the bed, and the dreaded wardrobe, from her room. She watched as they came in again and again to take everything they could find. The room seemed much larger without the extra furniture. They even took the curtains off the windows. Maybe they thought she might hang herself, but Rowan had no desire to die until she brought Lucien to his knees.
    A servant brought her some dinner, silently setting the tray on the floor just inside the door without even glancing her way. When he closed the door, Rowan retrieved the plate. Someone had placed a small knife under the