Page 13 of Undo Me

M came to me the other night. It was like a dream.

It was like her dream, and it was damned eerie. Bethany hadn’t told anyone about the letters yet, or about her nightly visits from the sexually gifted Marcel. She wasn’t afraid they wouldn’t believe her, but she couldn’t bring herself to share any of the details. He was her secret.

She looked forward to going to bed each night, knowing he would come to her again. Sometimes it was a repeat of that first dream. Sometimes she was Isabel when he’d found her in the library. Or in their favorite spot in the park. The dreams were always passionate, always romantic. Marcel hardly let a moment go by without letting her know she was special. Loved.

She was falling a little in love with M herself.

They were just dreams, right? Though the more she read Isabel’s journal, the more she wondered. Was the mysterious M her Marcel? If it were true... But how could it be?

Allegra and Michelle were in the middle of a conversation when she managed to pull herself away from her worrisome thoughts.

“The reception will be good for him. Rousseau needs to realize that people like your mother practice the religion for positive ends. With faith and love instead of greed, like his father. He needs to find peace with something that took over so much of his life.”

Michelle shook her head at Allegra. “It’s your call, but you know my mama. Her celebrations are unique. I’ll understand if you and Rousseau don’t stay too long after the ceremony. Hell, if Ben wasn’t holding it in his backyard, I wouldn’t stay long.”

Poor Rousseau. Another bad father. Like Isabel’s. Like Michelle’s. Bethany often wondered if she would have had problems with her own, but he’d died when she was a baby, along with her mother. All she had was her less than demonstrative Aunt Sally.

She’d read Allegra’s notes and a few chapters of the book she was writing. If it had been fiction, she would have been lost in the eroticism of it, the sensuality of this spirit who mounted a human host, riding him into one decadent experience after another. But Rousseau had lived it. And in his mind, at least from what Allegra had told her, it had felt more like a punishment than a gift. A sacrifice to save his family.

Allegra was good for him. She wouldn’t let him feel sorry for himself or live in the past. Wouldn’t let him forget the good and cling to the bad. She was a joyful person, full of life. Bethany wished them every happiness.

Personally, she was both dreading and looking forward to the evening’s celebrations. Dreading because she was uncomfortable with crowds, but excited because Michelle’s mother was a mambo, a voodoo priestess. Another fact Michelle had neglected to mention until recently.

After the minister married Allegra and Rousseau in the mansion’s backyard, which was being beautifully decorated by the team Ben had brought in, the All Saints’ celebration would begin. People would bring liquor and food for the Ghede family, and maybe someone would even be taken over, or mounted, by a spirit. Eventually they would all make their way to the cemeteries where their loved ones were entombed, to lay flowers, cards, and food.

As long as she had a good seat for that, and didn’t have to talk to too many strangers, it sounded like fun. She wondered if Isabel had celebrated the day with her mysterious M.

“He’s pretty excited. I think he’s found it.” Michelle smiled at Bethany. “That was really clever, by the way. I can’t believe I never thought to ask him where he was buried. He didn’t like to talk about anyone but his sister, and I honestly wasn’t sure he wanted to relive his funeral.”

Bethany’s heart was racing. Families were usually buried close together. Though there was no record of Isabel, she was sure there would be some clue, something that would help her discover what had happened to her. Emmanuel was the key. She felt it.

“What the—You’ve got to be kidding me,” Michelle gasped in disbelief.

Bethany turned the corner an instant behind her, her eyes drawn to a lovely miniature mausoleum. It was beautifully preserved, but Michelle was staring at the ground beside it, her mouth open in shock.

Allegra’s shout made them both jump. “Holy hell! Is that guy dead? Is there a dead guy in the cemetery on my wedding day?”

Bethany was about to point out how many dead guys were probably in this cemetery when Michelle whirled around. “Wait, you can see him? Tell me. Tell me exactly what you see.”

The redhead squinted and leaned closer before she answered. “A naked man with nice buns, hopefully living buns. Maybe he just passed out and he’d not actually dead? What do you see Bethany?”

She’d finally gotten a good look herself and was having a hard time lifting her gaze away from the most perfectly formed male ass she’d ever seen.

“Tell me,” Michelle demanded, a little impatiently.

“Naked buns. I see him, too. I also see him breathing. I think it’s safe to say he’s not a ghost yet.”

Allegra blew out a shaky breath. “My first wedding crisis averted.”

Michelle was already on the ground beside him, feeling his neck for a pulse. “A pulse. You see him and he’s breathing and he has to have a heart for it to beat.”

“Chelle, you’re scaring the bride,” Allegra said softly, moving closer cautiously. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t understand.” She rolled him over before Bethany could stop her from moving the body and pointing at it. “This is Bone Daddy.”

“Good grief.”

“No way.” Allegra knelt beside her, studying the perfectly sculpted face, the full lips, and long, velvet lashes. “That’s impossible, isn’t it? Loa are energy. Ancient spirits. He looks so young.” She poked his shoulder. “He feels—”

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