When Jocelyn Weatherford is whisked away from a preparatory
academy in upstate New York to live with her
extended family in New Orleans,
she is unprepared to encounter the dangers awaiting her. Yet even as she is
thrust into an unfamiliar world of witches and voodoo magic, the greatest
threat of all may be the boy she has fallen for.
While handsome and charming, he is also a Caldwell... a
member of the family the Weatherford's have been feuding with for centuries. As
their forbidden love grows it becomes the volatile spark that forever changes
their world and everyone in it.
I’d been right behind Oscar, close enough
that when he came to a sudden halt just inside I nearly collided with him.
Although I’m not sure he would have noticed.
His attention was on six others directly
in front of us.
They all had the same sandy blonde hair
and were all close in age to each other as well as to me and my cousins. And
they all wore an agate stone, one of the oldest stones in recorded history and
one thought to be worn for protection.
None of this mattered much to me because
the butterflies had returned.
Stepping around Oscar, I came into full
view as Jameson turned to face us.
“Hi,” I said, excited to meet again and
trying not to show it.
His stunning translucent green eyes
settled on me and didn’t move. “Jocelyn…” he stated softly, apprehensively.
His tone was different today. It was
restricted. And it instantly made me suspicious.
Then all eyes were on us, swinging from
me to him and back to me again.
It was Estelle who asked what seemed to
be on everyone’s mind. “You two know each other?” There was an edge to her
voice.
“Yes,” I said, having no idea why I felt
like I’d just broken a rule.
“How?” Oscar demanded. At the sound of
his tone, the feeling I’d crossed a boundary grew more distinct.
“In the French Quarter, yesterday. Jameson
showed me around.”
“First name terms, ha?” scoffed a girl
next to Jameson, who gave her a swift glare for it.
My defensiveness kicked in then. “That’s
really none of your business.”
The girl stepped forward but was held
back.
“You showed her around?” demanded a stout
boy on Jameson’s side of the line, inquiring just as harshly with him as my
cousins were being with me.
Jameson didn’t respond right away. He
remained rigid, his eyes boring in to me, guilty, seeming to apologize. But
there was no reason for it. He’d done nothing wrong.
“Jameson,” snapped the girl, insisting on
an answer.
“Don’t raise your voice to him,” I
ordered, knowing that I was stirring up the fight.
The girl was about to retort when Jameson
responded. It was subdued but stiff and unyielding. “She didn’t know who I
was.”
His eyes never wavered from me.
“Did you know who she was?” urged the
girl.
He drew in a deep breath, unwilling to
answer.
After another forceful prompt from the
girl, he growled in warning, “Enough, Charlotte. Yes, I knew she was a
Weatherford.”
There were gasps from both sides at his
acknowledgement and Nolan took a step forward, reminding me of a soldier
advancing toward his enemy.
Oscar’s hand came up and stopped Nolan at
the chest before asking, “Jocelyn, were you harmed?”
“No,” I replied, shocked he’d even think
to ask the question. “No, not at all. Jameson was…”
Nolan pressed his chest against Oscar’s
hand when I hesitated, ready to break through it toward Jameson’s side of the
line.
“Was what?” Estelle prompted.
I met Jameson’s eyes again. The intensity
in them made me hesitate. He was waiting to see how I’d characterize him.
“Well…he was a complete gentleman.”
I got the sense this interaction was
about to break up when Vinnia, petite and childlike Vinnia, stepped forward to
direct a threat at Jameson. “Stay away from her or you will regret it, Caldwell.”
My cousins began to turn and head down
the hall, the fight deterred for the time being, when my subconscious
registered the name she’d used.
I repeated it slowly. “Caldwell?”
Then I was piecing it all together from
the depths of my awareness, his last name screaming through my mind. It was the
name of the family who had repressed and endangered the Weatherfords for
centuries, the name of our mortal enemy. And it was the name he had not
disclosed yesterday when he’d asked for mine.
Jameson remained firm, his expression
never flinching and intently trained on me.
“You’re…” I swallowed hard, the words
barely making it passed my throat. “You’re a Caldwell?”
“We’re all Caldwells,”
Charlotte spat
vehemently, motioning to the line on both sides of her. Apparently, from her
point of view, I should have known this already.
“Easy, Charlotte,” Jameson warned again.
She drew in a sharp breath, offended.
“You spend the whole day with a Weatherford…knowing she’s a
Weatherford…endangering yourself…all of us…and you’re telling me to take it
easy?”
“No one got hurt,” he mumbled,
contentious, his mouth downturned.
“Not yet…” seethed another one of the
girls from his side, one with clear green eyes like Jameson, framed with long
dark lashes. Right now they were narrowed and pointed at me.
