On June 6th, the next story in the Femme Noir series will release! Since today’s theme is all about strong men, I thought I’d let you meet Baron Samedi, the loa of the crossroads between the worlds of the living and the dead. Enjoy a little taste!
“Under the Rainbow” by Paisley Smith
When novice witch, MeLeah McKinney is sent on a mission to retrieve a talisman from the grave of famed Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau, she’s not sure how she’ll be able to perform the sex magick ritual required for energizing the relic. Especially given that it’s been a long time since she’s had sex. She decides to gather energy at a live sex show on Bourbon Street. But she isn’t prepared for a little help from Celestine Laveau’s ghost who’s crossed the rainbow bridge to spend one night in the arms of a beautiful woman.
In order to defeat the ancient vampire who endangers them all, just one talisman is hardly enough…
“The Mambo’s Door” by Delilah Devlin
Ingrid Kassel is a fledgling witch, uncertain and not in complete control of her powers, especially after drinking a double-shot of vampire blood. With the same instructions as MeLeah—retrieve an object buried with a daughter of the Voodoo Queen—she angers the spirit guarding the tomb and finds herself entering a shadowy limbo, where she meets beautiful Marie, living in fear of a demon who also desires the black magic candle infused with the powerful mambo’s blood. In desperation, Marie tricks Ingrid, capturing her and seducing her to charge the candle for her own bid for freedom.
A crash sounded. The bedroom door splintered, exploding inward.
“Well, well,” came a deep voice, at once dry, rasping and crackling with anger. “Ma’man has been busy. She sends me presents, then fails to deliver ’em into my hands.”
Ingrid couldn’t help it—she tore her glance from Marie’s to stare up at the figment striding toward the bed.
He was tall, so slender he looked nearly skeletal, with skin stretched so tightly over prominent cheeks that she saw only shadow in the hollows beneath. His eyes were black and flat, the pupils narrow slits. It was the top hat, a crazy affectation, that identified him as Baron Samedi, loa of the dead.
“I’m not a present,” she said, lifting her chin and wondering where she found the courage to defy him. Maybe it was the last trace of vampire blood, maybe it was the trembling of Marie’s fist beneath hers. Whichever the cause, anger burst hot inside her.
“Not a present. Also not dead,” the loa said, leaning down to sniff the air around her. “How delicious.” Read the rest of this entry »