PROLOGUE
Ponchatoula, Louisiana

She first saw him in a crowded club. The room was dimly-lit, but his features were illuminated by the amber glow of the lights behind the bar against which he was leaning, sipping beer from a bottle and laughing with friends. The air was alive with the wail of a saxophone as the band switched from a lively Cajun reel to slow and plaintive jazz.

Odette Thibodeaux had fancied herself in love many times in her twenty-five years but the moment she laid eyes on him, she knew that this time would be the last time. That this was the man with whom she would share her life. She didn't know his name, but she had seen him in her dreams many times before. His dark hair fell over his brow and even as he shoved impatient fingers through it, she saw his green eyes sparkle with laughter at something one of his companions had said.

"Dieu! Zoe, who is that?" She leaned across the small table she was sharing and directed her friend's attention toward the young man near the bar.

"Who?" Zoe shifted and followed Odette's gaze across the room. A knowing smile curved her lips. "Ah. That's Guy Beaumont," she murmured. "You have good taste, chère."

Odette turned a quizzical gaze on her friend. "What do you know about him?"

Zoe took a sip of her drink and propped her chin in her palm. "His family owns the Beaumont Hotel." She nodded at Odette's wide-eyed gaze. The Beaumont was a four-star hotel noted for its luxurious accommodations and world-class spa.

"The Beaumonts were one of the original families to settle in the Ponchatoula area. Back in the days of the War, the property was one of the largest and richest cotton plantations in the area." Zoe selected a salted peanut from the bowl of bar mix on their table and continued. "Like most people, the family fell on hard times after
the War, but they managed to hold onto the house and several acres of the land. In the early 1900's Guy's great-grand-père decided to turn the house into a hotel." She picked through the bowl again and nibbled on another peanut.

"It was a fairly modest hotel in the beginning - more like a bed and breakfast than hotel," she explained. "But as tourism in the area grew, so did their business. Guy's grandparents were the ones who built it into a luxury hotel and Guy's mama was the one who suggested adding the spa."

Odette leaned against the back of her chair and contemplated the handsome man standing on the other side of the room. Like many people in the area, she was of Cajun descent. She and her older sister, Chantal, had been raised in a belief system that found them in Catholic Mass each Sunday morning, and learning about magick and the casting of spells from their maternal grandmother. Her eyes narrowed and she briefly considered casting a spell to make Guy fall madly in love with her, but quickly discarded the idea. She'd win him the old-fashioned way.

"Do you know him well enough to introduce us?" she asked with a hopeful smile.

"Non." Zoe grinned when her friend's face fell. "But I went to college with one of the guys he's talking with." She tossed back the rest of her drink and stood. "Come on."

Odette fished a compact from her tiny purse and discreetly checked her makeup, shaking her head so that her mass of dark curls artfully fell over her shoulders and down her back. She adopted a reserved expression and her manner was soft and hesitant when she was introduced to Guy. Her reticent ways were calculated to make a man want to find out more about the woman behind the shy smile and they worked like a... well, like a charm. Sometimes, she thought, a spell was overkill. Never underestimate the powers of good, old-fashioned womanly guiles.

Odette saw Guy often after that. She and Zoe would meet him and his friends every Saturday night at the club or for drinks after work in the middle of the week. Twice, she had managed to arrange things so that she and Guy were alone. He hadn't yet asked her out on an official date, but he was always courteous and attentive to her. She didn't want to push things. Her wise grand-mere had always told her and Chantal that the best romances often got their start in friendships and she was content to wait.

She was racing around the apartment that she shared with Chantal one Saturday evening, hurrying to get ready to go out. Claiming car trouble, she had called Guy to ask for a ride to the club. She had long ago given up on asking Chantal to join her and her girlfriends for a night out. In many ways, the two sisters were as different as night and day. Odette's dark-haired, dark-eyed sultriness contrasted with Chantal's cool blonde, blue-eyed beauty. Odette's idea of a good time was an evening of dancing and drinks with friends, while her older sister preferred sharing conversation over a glass of wine in a quiet restaurant.

" Bèbè," Chantal drawled from the doorway to Odette's room. "Where's the fire? You're running around like a crazy person."

Odette whirled to face her sister. "Oh, Chantal! Could you help me fasten this?" She held out a thin gold chain bracelet to her sister. Chantal was bent over the tiny clasp when the doorbell rang. Odette's whole body twitched at the sound causing her sister to lose hold of the clasp.

" Dêpéche-toi!" Odette urged her sister. "Hurry!"

Chantal succeeded in latching the bracelet. "Fix your lipstick, 'tite soeur. I'll get the door."

Odette took a deep breath and pulled out a tube of lipstick. She took a moment to fuss with her hair and dab perfume on her pulse points. She was of the firm belief that it never hurt to keep a guy waiting.

A few moments later, she found out that she was wrong.

Odette had spent the rest of that summer struggling to mask the jealousy that consumed her every time she saw the man she loved with her sister. Guy had been instantly transfixed by Chantal's grace and beauty and had invited her to join them at the club that fateful evening. Chantal demurred at first, claiming that she wasn't dressed for an evening out, but Guy was a man accustomed to getting what he
wanted.

And he wanted Chantal.

"Come, ma belle," he entreated. "You look perfect." He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to the door. "Please, I want to get to know you better."

Staring into his laughing, green eyes, Chantal's resolve melted. "I'd like that, too."

From that moment on, Guy and Chantal had eyes only for each other. On the day they announced their engagement, something inside Odette snapped. Guy was hers! They were meant to be together. Chantal had bewitched him. There could be no other explanation.

Envy and rage ate away at her. At night she was plagued by dreams of her beloved in the arms of her sister; by day she plotted and discarded one scheme after another to get him back. Each Sunday, she lit candles and offered fervent prayers to the saintly images cast in marble on the altars. "Please," she begged each week, "bring him back to me."

But there was never an answer. Finally, Odette decided to take matters into her own hands.

Carrying a small cloth bag, Odette crept to the bayou. Mindful of the hazards that could befall the unwary, she stayed just inside the tree line. A storm blowing in obscured the moon from sight. The night was alive with the croaking sounds made by the bullfrogs, the distant rumble of an alligator and the chirping of cicadas. As the storm moved closer, a flash of lightning illuminated the Spanish moss dripping from the trees around her.

Odette cast her dark robe onto the ground. The cooling breeze stirred up by the approaching storm caressed her naked flesh. From her bag, she drew forth four candles, representative of North, South, East and West. She drove then into the ground and lit them; three black candles to summon the darkness and one purple candle for power. She cast a circle on the ground, using her ritual knife to connect the four candles. She pulled a photograph from the bag and tossed the empty pouch onto the ground. Her fingers tightened around the photograph as she stared down into the smiling and love struck images of Chantal and Guy.

Stretching her arms over her head, she raised her face to the sky and in a low voice began to chant,

"This happy twosome that I see
Their love is naught but a betrayal of me
Separating them is the only way
Let love forsake them from this day
With this spell I'll see them part
With my power I'll win his heart
Thou love is cursed I promise thee
By my will, so mote it be!"

Odette used her knife to slice the photograph in two and dropping to her knees, she burned the two pieces in the flames of the black candles. The air around her crackled with energy. No rain fell, but bolts of lightning streaked through the sky and a peal of thunder boomed overhead, silencing the natural sounds of the bayou's inhabitants. Rather than being frightened, she was energized by the power surrounding her. Arms spread wide, she absorbed that energy, breathing it in until it permeated her very soul. Finally exhausted, she wrapped her cloak around her and sank to the ground within the circle she had cast. And as the storm moved away, she slept.

The next morning, Odette wriggled into the clothes she had left discarded in her car the previous evening and left the bayou. She drove to Guy's home, confident of the power of her spell. She glanced up and down the street happy to see that Chantal's car was nowhere to be found. Today she would put into motion her plan to win Guy back. The plan was simple, she thought, as she parked. She would offer him a sympathetic shoulder and a loving embrace. Pulling down the sun visor, she flipped open the vanity mirror and practiced a series of compassionate and caring faces.

Smoothing her skirt over her hips, Odette climbed the steps that led to Guy's front door. The unlatched door fell open easily beneath the knocking hand she had raised. Curious, she pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer.

"Guy?" She closed the door behind her and moved down the hallway. She glanced into the living room and kitchen, but there was no sign of him.

"Guy?" she called again. A deep sense of foreboding rose in her throat as she laid a trembling hand on the bedroom door. Something was wrong...

Odette pushed open the bedroom door and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Guy curled up in bed alone. The sheets were pooled around his waist, exposing his strong back to her gaze; his dark hair spilled over the white pillows. She crawled onto the bed and laid a hand on his shoulder. His skin was so cold. Once again, the fear rose in her chest. Her hand trembled as she tugged on his shoulder.
Odette fell back, a silent scream welling in her throat as his body rolled toward her unresistingly. His eyes stared up at her, open and lifeless. The gold crucifix that had hung around his neck - a gift from Chantal upon their engagement - lay broken on his throat. "No," she moaned. In his eyes, she was sure she read an accusation.

"It's not my fault!" she wept. "This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen!"