“Like they’re real?” Finally, he let that drop. “I got out ahead of the troops, but they’re on my ass. They camped just north of Sterling. If there’re no storms, they could be here as early as tomorrow. They’re goan to take you and your mother if you doan leave.”
“Why should I believe you? They might be riding in to save us. We’ve been waiting for this since the Flash.”
“They’re coming, Evie. I swear it.” He lifted a chain around his neck, pulling a jet-black rosary out from under his T-shirt. The beads glinted in the candlelight. The unusual cross was small but ornate. “And I swear to God that you will wish they’d never laid eyes on you.”
I almost . . . believed him. I vaguely noted that I’d seen that rosary before, then asked, “Did you tell my mom about this?” He nodded. “What did she say?”
He regarded his knuckles, running a finger over a scar. “That the decision to stay or leave was yours.”
What if I decided to leave once and for all? Away! Out into the world at last!
As ever, I tamped down that impulse, guilt suffusing me.
And why should it be my call anyway? I never thought I’d crave authority so dearly! “Even if your story is true, I can’t travel with her. She’s injured, and we’ve got one—malnourished—horse. How am I supposed to get her away from an army?”
“You could ask me for help. Or are you too proud?”
“I would do anything to keep her safe.” I met his gaze. “That big army will have medics, a surgeon even. One could be on his way directly to us this very minute. I’m not going to risk her life fleeing from the one person who could help her.”
“You’re not listening to me, Evie—”
“You’re not listening to me,” I bit out in a low, furious tone. “I said anything.”
Suddenly I understood what had driven my mom to do whatever it took to get me well last year. All I’d thought about was how horrific CLC had been for me. I hadn’t considered how agonizing it must have been for her to drop off her daughter there, leaving her behind.
“You can say anything—because you doan know what that means with these people.” He looked like he was about to argue more, but whatever he saw in my expression made him think better of it. He muttered, “Tête dure.” Hard head. “We’ll talk after dinner, yeah.”
“Dinner?”
“I brought gator meat. It’s goan to melt in your mouth.”
I fell silent. That would be the first meat we’d had since Allegra had hoofed a rare rattlesnake to death two months ago. Maybe if Mom got protein, it’d help her heal!
As if he could read my mind, he said, “Your mère could use a good meal.”
Game. Set. Match.
Then I remembered that the cellar looked like a Thanksgiving circular. Would he find all of my stores? I’d meant to pickle the rest, so they wouldn’t be so obvious.
“That’s right, Evie. I figure with all those fresh vegetables, we ought to have a stew.”
Shit! I jutted my chin, saying nothing. Would he tell Mom? Had he?
“And out in the barn, I found rows of crops. Real, live, honest-to-God crops. You want to explain that? I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out that puzzle all afternoon.”
“You broke into our barn?”
“After you locked the doors right in front of me?” He gave me that Cajun shrug. “You ought to know by now that if Evie Greene’s got something she doan want me to discover, I’m goan to come up with a way to.”
“Did you tell my mom about them?”
“I figured out that she didn’t know and kept my mouth shut.”
“It would only upset her.”
“Woan upset me. So tell me about these crops of yours. You paint them on your walls—do you coax them from fallow ground? Maybe you got other talents besides seeing the future?”
“Stop talking about that!”
“You tell anyone else about what’s in your barn?”
“Of course not!”
He met my gaze, his eyes dark and intense. “Doan you ever tell another, no. You can’t imagine what people would do for those crops. You hear me?”
Shivers slipped up my spine. “No one but you, that is?”
“I need to know how you got them plants to grow, Evangeline.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Silver bells and cockleshells.” Blood streams and freaky dreams and dizzy maids all in a row.
The corners of his lips curled. “You and your secrets. Ah, peekôn, just when I think I’ve solved one mystery about you, up comes another one. I will figure you out one day. En garde, cher. Consider yourself warned.”
Chapter 18
“I can’t believe you just welcomed him into our home. Without even talking to me?” I demanded as I plaited Mom’s hair.
She wanted to “look presentable” for our first cooked dinner in ages, and for our first company since the Flash.
She’d entreated me to dress up as well, to be respectful of the effort Jackson alone was making—since he’d refused all her offers of my help.
I’d scoffed, until she finally said, “Dress up, Evie. Or go downstairs and insist on making yourself useful.”
An actual order from Mom? I’d chosen the lesser of two evils, dragging on one of the few nice outfits that still fit me, a Nanette Lepore wrap dress with complementing blocky heels. I even wore my diamond earrings and a coat of precious lip gloss.
With a pang, I’d donned the necklace Brand had given me the night before he died.
“How could I have talked to you about Jack?” Mom asked now. “You were knocked out.”
“And you didn’t suspect that he might have been the one to hurt me?”
“Honestly, Evie, his explanation made perfect sense—I’m surprised you haven’t shot yourself in the foot by now. Besides, I have a good feeling about him.”
“What did you tell him about me?” I finished her braid, smoothing a lock here and there.
“That you’re special. That you have a purpose in this world. And that you’ll need support in order to fulfill it.”
Not too bad of a reveal. What mother wouldn’t say that about her daughter? “Please don’t tell him any more about us, about our business. He’s not the nice boy you think he is. Not like Brandon was.”
I thought back to the last time I’d seen my first and only boyfriend, recalling his smile as he’d gone off to do battle for me, saving me from getting gaffled. I should’ve told him that I loved him—instead of “You’re the best.”
And it was because of the Cajun that I’d never gotten to speak to Brandon ever again.