Reynaud's Redemption Read online

  Since the first night they were together, he and Cameron had not been apart. Cameron’s gentle spirit and inner strength continued to show him what forgiveness, love and patience were all about. Cameron wouldn’t let him hold onto hate when Reynaud thought about what had transpired in his past, constantly reminding Reynaud how good he had it now with Cameron and how things had worked out for the best for him. The man was nothing short of a fountain of encouragement and love. They had only been together for just over a year, but Reynaud could not picture his life without Cameron. As he closed his eyes, Reynaud resolved to do what was necessary to get back to the life he had made with Cameron.

  * * * *

  Reynaud looked around bewildered. He was home in the house he had shared with Angele. It was unchanged.

  “But how can this be?”

  He continued walking only to discover that it was true. Reynaud touched his temple and shook his head, but before he could question further, Baptiste walked by him. He carried his beloved Angele in his arms like a new bride. Anger immediately flooded Reynaud’s senses.

  “How dare you put your hands on him,” he growled.

  Baptiste disappeared down a hall, not answering. Reynaud’s heart pounded hard.

  “No!”

  He rushed after them, arriving at the doorway just as Baptiste laid Angele’s limp body beside his own sleeping form.

  “No. This has already happened.”

  Reynaud took a deep breath and tears stung his eyes. Dizziness assailed him. The room spun around him. A soft, sinister chuckle reached his ears. He clasped his hands to both sides of his head in an effort to block the sound.

  “You have held your station long enough, Reynaud Leduc. I think it is time someone else had it… Namely me.”

  Reynaud opened his eyes, turning to the voice. He focused on the man before him. They stared at each other, eye to eye, neither blinking nor backing down.

  “Your treachery has no bounds, Baptiste. Why not aim your venom at me directly? What did Angele have to do with your hate?” he asked.

  “Your Angele was merely a casualty of war,” Baptiste explained. “As Madame Cousteau’s favorite, I could not openly attack you. I had to discredit you in the eyes of the council, so when you finally fell, not even she could help you.”

  Bile rose in Reynaud’s stomach leaving a bad taste in his mouth as he looked at his rival. Baptiste’s laughter rang in his ears again as he looked him over.

  “The great Reynaud Leduc has finally been beaten by the even better Baptiste St John,” he roared, resuming his gaiety.

  Reynaud squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his palms to his ears again. The hysterical laughter swarmed around his head. He fell to his knees. Baptiste’s face multiplied in his mind’s eye, locked with his sinister smile circling him menacingly, closing in on him.

  Reynaud.

  A whisper broke through the madness.

  Reynaud.

  He concentrated on it, focused on a tiny light guiding him from a dark tunnel.

  Come to me, Reynaud, before it’s too late. I will help you.

  Drawn to the sound, his form floated from the floor, leaving Baptiste’s voice behind.

  Reynaud gasped and sprang to an upright position, sweating and breathing hard. Confused at first as to where he was, he took in his surroundings with a raised eyebrow. The area around him brightened with the rising sun. Nodding and muttering to himself, he rubbed his temple and concentrated on his dream. He knew exactly where to go. It would take some time to get there on foot but his search would be over soon. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. As he stood, he noticed fresh grass growing in the dirt where he had slept. His magic restored the earth bringing life to the grass where there was none. A knowing grin spread across his face. He was getting stronger.

  “I’m on my way, Madame.”

  * * * *

  Baptiste paced the floor of his office. He tugged at his jacket and adjusted the shirt sticking to his damp skin. As he passed his desk, he picked up the cloth and wiped the sweat from his brow again. With a deep breath, he jerked his neck from side to side then rolled his shoulders before returning to the window. Staring through the glass, he raised his hand and concentrated on the blooms just beyond. Responding to his will, the rosebuds shook then tilted in his direction. The petals opened beautifully and the red of its pedals deepened in color. A small smile touched his lips but before a sigh of relief could leave his mouth, the entire bush burst into raging flames and ignited two others adjacent to it.

  “Damn it,” he yelled, slamming his fist against the pane.

  Acknowledging the click of the door with a mere shift of his eyes, Baptiste kept his attention forward, staring at the small inferno. His workers appeared with buckets, frantically throwing water onto the fire as they looked about, seemingly searching for the source of the blaze.

  “Sir?”

  The concerned edge in the voice of his right-hand man resonated in his ears, but the sound only irritated him.

  “What is it, Maxwell?” he demanded, turning to face him.

  Maxwell’s eyes went wide and his voice faltered. “I… I think it would be best if you took the rest of the day off, Mr St John. I will have Reggie bring the car around,” he said and left the room without waiting for a reply.

  Though still frustrated, Maxwell’s odd behavior gave him pause. Baptiste had done many things in Maxwell’s presence over the years. He had seen a wide range of emotions from the man, but that was the first time he had ever seen fear in his confidant’s eyes.

  Baptiste walked into the adjoining room. He looked into the mirror and gasped. The image staring back at him was indeed his reflection but unlike anything he had ever seen before. He turned his face to and fro, touching his cheek. Where his eyes were supposed to be brown, they glowed bright red and the whites around them appeared pink instead. His skin remained unchanged, except lately it was always wet with perspiration. He gripped the sink and growled low in his throat.

  “Perhaps Maxwell is right. I have to get a hold of this power,” he muttered.

  Nodding and resolving the thought to himself, Baptiste splashed cold water on his face until he felt better. His eyes still appeared more red than brown when he inspected them again, but at least they no longer glowed.

  Baptiste left the rest room and went to his desk. After pulling a pair of dark sunglasses from his top drawer, he then left his office. Reggie held the door open for him when he exited the building. He slipped into the back seat and realized someone else was in the car.

  “Maxwell, what are you doing here?” he said with slight annoyance.

  “I’m just making sure you get home.”

  “I don’t need a nanny.”

  “My primary purpose is to ensure all your needs are met. That is what I’m going to do,” he explained as the car jerked forward.

  Baptiste had struggled to wield his magic all morning. The more he concentrated on his natural gift, the more the fire moved to block his call to it. Drained from his efforts, he leaned back against the seat.

  “Very well, Maxwell.”

  Baptiste closed his eyes with a sigh. Though he lived a good thirty-minute drive away from his job, it seemed like mere seconds had passed when Maxwell tapped his shoulder. He let Maxwell lead him into his home and direct him into his chair in the den. Maxwell left Baptiste alone, but returned quickly with a tall glass.

  “What’s this?” he asked, accepting the drink.

  “Something to help you relax.”

  Baptiste looked into the cup. The beverage was chilled and smelled like the lemonade iced tea mixture he liked. He drank it down without further question, welcoming the coolness it gave his throat. Maxwell took the empty glass from him. More relaxed already, Baptiste let his eyes close.

  * * * *

  “You sent for me, Madame Cousteau?”

  “Yes, Baptiste. Please, close the door and have a seat.”

  Baptiste took the chair in front of her
desk and crossed his legs.

  Madame Cousteau pushed away the paper she’d been writing on. “I understand that you have petitioned for Reynaud Leduc’s prior position.”

  “Yes, Madame, I have.”

  “Why?”

  “I am an earth magic healer with just as much training as Reynaud. My skill is equal to his. I am ready for the position,” he told her with a small smile.

  “I see. Your application for such a position will not be honored.”

  Baptiste tensed, but he was conscious to keep his face from changing.

  “Madame, I don’t under—”

  “I don’t see the point of beating about the bush. You are unworthy of this post.”

  Baptiste snapped his mouth shut, his eyes widening.

  “May I ask why you think that?”

  “I know how you conspired to discredit Reynaud Leduc. Of course, I have no proof, but I will not have a dishonorable Creolyte in my midst training others. Thus, the answer is no. I will not be giving you the job.”

  “You would dismiss family so easily? Without just cause? On a guess?” he asked.

  “A guess?” she shot back with a raised eyebrow. “Oh no, Baptiste St John. It is true that I have no evidence to condemn you for your crime, but I know you are guilty nonetheless.”

  Baptiste stared at her. His breathing became labored as she continued her explanation.

  “However, I must keep the knowledge of your treachery to myself. Rest assured it is not our shared bloodlines that keep me quiet, but the lack of material evidence to punish you for your offense.”

  Baptiste swallowed his retort. Now was the time to cultivate his patience. Retribution would ensue in due time.

  “Very well, Madame Cousteau,” he said with a forced grin. “Thank you for your time and consideration,” Baptiste said, leaving her office.

  It took all his restraint not to slam the door behind him. He stomped down the hall, putting his plan in action to get back at Madame Cousteau and the other elders who obviously supported her decision.

  * * * *

  Baptiste’s eyes popped open. Fury raced through his system. He looked around to find himself still in his den. The sun had set and the room was dark. His anger remained soaring through his veins like a river as his dream faded. He pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “Reggie, bring the car around. We go to see Madame Cousteau.”

  Chapter Nine

  As the sky darkened, Reynaud saw the stately manor rising in the distance on the Mississippi River and grinned to himself. Quickening his step, he continued toward it. Though he was tired and hungry it didn’t dampen the excitement that raced through his senses. After so long, he would see Madame Cousteau very soon.

  “Good evening, sir. How may I help you?” a gentleman wearing a black suit asked when the door opened.

  “Ah, good evening. I’ve come to visit with Madame Cousteau, please,” Reynaud said with a smile.

  “I’m sorry, sir, there is no one here by that name. Have a good day.”

  A forced smile appeared across the doorman’s face before he promptly shut the door.

  Reynaud’s jaw dropped as he stared at the door, blinking wildly. His confusion was short-lived, taken over by anger. He knew Madame Cousteau was there. Her call had brought him directly to the door. Why would this guy tell him otherwise?

  He pounded on the door then paused, waiting for the butler to return, but another man opened the door instead.

  “How can I help you, sir?” he asked.

  Reynaud scrutinized the man. He was no butler. His dark pinstriped suit, crisp white shirt, and expensive-looking hat seemed best for a day at the office. The man’s physique and mannerisms were those of a person one would most likely see guarding a door rather than answering one.

  “I’ve come to see Madame Cousteau. The other gentleman said she was not here, but I—”

  “Of course, sir. The last guy was mistaken. He’s new around here. Come right in,” the man offered, taking a step back, making room for Reynaud to pass.

  The hairs on the back of Reynaud’s neck stood on end. He hesitated and noticed two other men dressed similarly coming into the foyer with them. The door closed behind him, and he turned to face the first fellow.

  “Where is Madame Cousteau?”

  “We were just waiting for our boss to get here,” one person explained, ignoring Reynaud’s question. He wrapped his arm around Reynaud’s shoulder, guiding him farther into the home. “Would you like something to drink while we wait?”

  “No, but thank you. I have no desire to see your boss, whoever he or she is. I came to see Madame Cousteau,” Reynaud reiterated.

  “Yes, and how is it that you know the Madame?”

  A tingly feeling snaked up Reynaud’s spine, tickling the hairs at the base of his neck. He stopped walking.

  “The Madame and I go way back,” he told the man, looking at him eye to eye. “Where is she?”

  “I think it’s best we wait on the boss.”

  Reynaud shifted his gaze to the staircase off to the left. The pull that had brought him to the house mentally directed him upstairs. Out of the corner of his eye, Reynaud saw the other men closing in on him.

  “I don’t want to see your boss. I’m going to see Madame Cousteau.”

  He turned toward the stairs, but the two attackers apprehended him before he could take more than three steps. The one who had opened the door punched him in the gut without hesitation. Reynaud doubled over from the pain.

  “I’m afraid I must insist,” the thug said, his tone cold.

  Reynaud took a few deep breaths then snatched his arms away from his captives. He threw a quick elbow back into the face of the person on his right. As Reynaud adjusted himself to swing on the other guy, he was met with another punch to the stomach and a well-connected uppercut. Dazed by the blows, Reynaud landed hard on the polished marble floor beside the thug he had incapacitated. His assailant stood over him, smirking.

  “The boss has been the only one to see the Madame in years. I think he will be very interested to know how you even knew that she was here.”

  The two men pulled Reynaud to his feet again, dragging him away from the staircase. A vase of flowers on a pedestal caught his eye as they turned him down a hallway. Reynaud yanked his arms from his captors, grabbed the vase and swung it at the guy on his right. The man ducked and Reynaud’s momentum took him full circle, hitting the other assailant across the head. The container shattered, falling in pieces to the floor, along with the attacker. Quickly, Reynaud thrust his knee up into the other guy’s jaw before he could regain his upright position.

  Reynaud took off at a run, leaving the fallen men behind. As he passed the first guy that had attacked him, he had to kick him in the head as he tried to get him, then continued on, taking the steps two at a time. Following his instincts, Reynaud burst into a bedroom at the end of the hall, locking the door behind him. A swift scan showed the suite was empty. He paused to catch his breath then entered the inner room and slipped inside.

  Madame Cousteau lay in the bed at the far side of the room. The light of day shone through the windows, showing him that she looked as lovely as he remembered her. As he stared at Madame in awe, she turned his way and smiled.

  “I knew you’d come,” she said, her voice soft but not frail or strained.

  She extended her hand in invitation. He rushed across the room to a chair, pulled it to her bedside and accepted it.

  “I have missed you so much, Reynaud. I am so sorry that you had to suffer your banishment when you were an innocent. As we were conjuring you into the dog, my heart cried, even as I held the tears back. I was so fixed on you at the time that I could see what really happened in your mind’s eye as you thought about it. Please forgive me for my part, even when I knew the truth.”

  He kissed her hand and held it to his face. “I never blamed you, Madame. There is nothing to forgive.”

  The elder let out a relieved sigh. “The
re is much for us to discuss, Reynaud. Please listen. A lot has happened since you have been away. The land has suffered very much in the last ten years. There was a great flood that destroyed our home.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve seen it,” he mentioned sadly.

  “It was a heartbreaking and distressing time. Isabelle tried to use her gift over the wind to help Marguerite hold back the water, but she was overwhelmed. Isabelle perished with so many of our people and the natives of this land. Marguerite was devastated over her death. She left us behind and moved to another sect to put the tragedy behind her.”

  “Marguerite has left New Orleans? Where are the others who sat on the council with you?”

  Madame Cousteau choked on her next words. She moved her free hand to her chest as she tried to compose herself. “They are dead, Reynaud. Murdered—and their magic stolen from them. My amulet lets me wield and control the other elements.” She lifted the necklace and continued. “We were all connected, in a sense, through the magic. I feel it in my soul. I know it to be true,” she sobbed.

  He did not know the others like he knew Madame Cousteau. She had taken him under her wing and trained him herself when he was just a boy. However, his heart did ache for her loss.

  “I’m so sorry, Madame.”

  She caressed his face. “Please, my darling, you were more than just a pupil to me. My time grows short. I would like you to call me Delphine.”

  Reynaud nodded, offering her a soft smile. “As you wish, Delphine.”

  “What’s done is done, sweetheart. What you need to know is Baptiste is here.”

  His blood instantly boiled. “Baptiste?”

  “Yes, and I believe he stole the others’ magic.”

  Reynaud gasped. Did the man’s treachery have no bounds?

  “When we started to age out of our positions, Baptiste was the one who put us into these houses years ago. He placed those who were loyal to him in the elder seats, but he seeks my position for himself. I have known that since before you were condemned. He will come for me.”