APPROACH THE GATES

KRIS JACEN

Table of Contents

Title Page

Blurb

Copyright Acknowledgement

Author Note

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Epilogue

Glossary

About the Author

Trademarks Acknowledgement

Show respect whether your belief is strong or non-existent.

Growing up with archeologist parents practically guaranteed that Eric would study other cultures, how could he not when his first childhood memory is visiting the tombs at Giza. Doctor Eric Hoffman has held his beliefs in other cultures and religions as the cornerstone of his life and career. After losing Joel, his husband of ten years, to an attack while they were visiting in New Orleans, he’s hoping a year later that if he visits the Gates of Guinee and makes his offerings, he’ll see his dead husband again.

Steven Mallery has two loves in his life — books and Eric Hoffman. Only one problem, there’s no room in Eric’s heart for him as more than just a friend. Steven had stood by and watched Eric fall for and marry Joel while they were all in college; Christ, he’d been their best man. For the past year, Steven has held a grieving Eric, tamping down his joy at maybe having a chance at the only man he’d ever love.

Helping Eric research the Gates of Guinee might have been the stupidest thing Steven has ever done. Messing with loa Baron Samedi wasn’t the smartest thing but making Eric happy is Steven’s only goal. Can the power of the spirits guide Eric to closing his heart to Joel while opening it to Steven? Maybe Steven needed to make his own offerings.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2021 by Kris Jacen

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Published by Three Hearts

Cover Art by Kris Jacen

eBook format

Issued 2021

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

AUTHOR NOTE

There is so much information out there about the rituals and traditions surrounding New Orleans and Mardi Gras. The loas and Baron Samedi. While I have done research, I’ve used my own locations for the Gates of Guinee and the offerings to the loas to show respect for the beliefs of Voodoo practitioners. All inconsistencies or errors are my own and I mean no disrespect.

While I did study a language in college, it wasn’t French. I hope that my translations are accurate. Please excuse any translation oops. There is a glossary at the end.

Where the idea for this story came from, I’m not sure. But I do know that it wouldn’t have come to fruition without the help and support of a few people: Lynn Michaels – Lord have you been there for me with this story and all the others; TL Travis – sis, I couldn’t do this without all you do for me; JP Bowie – thank you for catching all the little things for me; Grace – thank you for giving me a reader’s perspective all the time; Bubba – thank you for checking on me and making sure I’m okay; and my home crew – Ladybug and Care Bear – you give me strength every day, Mama loves you.

As they say in the Big Easy, laissez le bon temps rouler!

Hugs and Love, KJ

PROLOGUE

French Quarter, New Orleans

Eric

Eric couldn’t believe the view as he stood on the balcony of their hotel room. He could see up and down Bourbon Street. The Quarter was decorated for Mardi Gras. Joel had really gone all out for their vacation. He couldn’t believe that they were graduating in three months, both with master’s degrees. He was going on to his doctorate in Anthropology and Joel was starting as a social worker.

“So, how’d I do?” Joel asked from the doorway. When Eric turned, his boyfriend was standing there in just a pair of boxer shorts with two glasses dangling from one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

Moving slowly, he stepped in close to Joel, sliding his hands up Joel’s chest to wrap around his neck. Eric placed his lips against Joel’s for a small kiss before answering.

“Unbelievable. You knew how much I’ve always wanted to visit here. That you planned it all as a surprise graduation gift…” Eric trailed off, a bit emotional that Joel had done this all for him.

“I might have had a some of help. Steven’s cousin is a travel agent and had a few connections,” Joel said as he shifted his hips in a slight dance to the jazz music floating up from the street. “Share a toast with me?”

Eric stepped back, letting Joel onto the balcony. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a bit more? I get that we’re in the Big Easy but still…”

“Can’t I earn my beads?” Joel teased. “Besides, we’re on the third floor. If they can see me, more power to them. Now, come have a drink with me in the peace before the partying starts down below.” Eric watched as Joel popped the cork on the champagne and it effervesced all over him. Who was he to ignore such an invitation?

The bubbles running down Joel’s abs were calling to Eric’s tongue. He could almost hear them. Lick me! Lick me! Pushing Joel’s arms open, Eric leaned down and ran his tongue from the waist of the boxers up to Joel’s nipple, making sure to get every drop off his tanned midsection.

Joel groaned as Eric closed his lips around the pebbled flesh. “Mmm, we’re having those kinds of toasts, are we? And here I brought glasses.”

Nipping Joel’s chest, Eric pulled back and met Joel’s eyes with his own. “Since you went to the trouble, we might as well use the glasses. Although I do reserve the right to just pour more on you. Your skin adds an extra tang to the champagne.”

Laughing, Joel poured the champagne into the glasses and handed one over. “May we have as much joy in the next fifty years, as we’ve had in the last three,” Joel said as he raised his glass toward Eric. “I love you.”

Eric could feel the tears forming. It wasn’t often that Joel was so romantic, so when he was it squeezed Eric’s heart. As he lifted his glass to tap it to Joel’s, he saw something in the glass. Quickly draining the champagne out of the crystal, Eric tipped it and, to his delighted surprise, a gold ring dropped into his palm.

“Is this—” He stumbled over his words as he realized what he was holding. “Are you—”

“Eric Hoffman, will you marry me? Keep me on my toes? Keep me grounded in happiness as I help those who aren’t?” Joel asked as he dropped to one knee.

“Yes, with all my heart, yes,” Eric answered as he closed his fingers around the ring. “Absolutely.”

§ § §

Joel

“Remind me again, why are we on this tour?” Joel groused, pulling on Eric’s hand as they followed the others on the tour with them. “I enjoyed Gallier House much more. The architecture, the gardens, the balcony. Do you think we can find somewhere in Portland that we can have a garden?”

“Because I’m focusing on different religions and their impacts on society for my doctorate. What religion do you know that has so much influence other than Voodoo in New Orleans? Yes, I could look at the more ‘popular’ topics like Catholicism and the native populations in South America. Spend time in the rainforest but, I don’t know. This seems to be drawing me. Will my focus change? Maybe, but this is a start. And I feel… something. I’m not sure what but I do.” Eric finished with a shrug. “As for finding somewhere with a garden or a yard? I have no objection to that but don’t expect me to weed. My allergies wouldn’t handle that.”

“Okay, fine. But can we skip the vampire tour?” Joel almost whined the question. He knew that Eric was going to study religions but this was a bit much. Voodoo in New Orleans? Yeah, that was a stereotype if there ever was one.

“Give it up, buttercup,” Steven said. Eric watched him bump his shoulder against Joel’s. They’d been in New Orleans two days before Steven showed up. Joel knew he’d blushed when he told Eric that he’d asked Steven to join them to celebrate their engagement. Steven had been the one to introduce them back in their sophomore year of undergrad at the University of Oregon. If anyone had been there for everything and anything for them, it’d been Steven.

“Of course, you’d take his side. You’ve always liked him better,” Joel complained.

“Duh, yeah. He’s a Seahawks fan. You? Miami? Are you kidding? Besides, he likes books as much as I do,” Steven shot back.

“Listen book nerds, there is more to life than reading. Although those gay Rockstar books you found? Those I’ll read like no tomorrow,” Joel said as they stopped behind the group in front of them.

“Now, here’s the grave that is the most visited in New Orleans,” the tour guide told them. “Marie Laveau lived here in the mid-1800s, and is known as the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. It was said that she would see people in her house and with the right incentive, she would either bless or curse the person responsible for her client’s situation. Those who want a wish granted will draw an X on the tomb, turn around three times, knock on the tomb and yell out their wish. But be aware, if your wish is granted, you must return to the tomb, draw a circle around your X and leave an offering.”

The people in front of them approached her grave. Some drew Xs, others just stood quietly for a moment before moving on.

“We should draw an X and ask for her blessing on our marriage,” Eric said.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Steven agreed.

Joel grunted before saying, “You know she had no mystical powers. No extra anything. She did the hair of many of the wealthy, and was a gossip. They proved that all the curses and things that she supposedly did were just her using the information that was shared with her to her clients’ advantage. There was some research done. Didn’t you see it on that paranormal show?”

“Seriously? You’re going to doubt as we stand at her grave?”

Joel felt a bit unsure when he saw the look Eric was giving him. He shook his head. “I’m not saying Voodoo doesn’t exist, I’m just saying that I highly doubt she was a priestess. She was just a woman trying to get ahead.”

A movement off to the right caught Joel’s eye. When he turned to look, he would swear he saw a man leaning against one of the graves, wearing a top hat, his face painted as if it were a skull.

“Boy, doubting the powers of a priestess can get you in a world of hurt. You should trust in your man’s beliefs.” A voice heavy with a Cajun accent floated on the wind.

Joel looked back to where he’d seen the man but there was no one there. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

“Hear what?” Steven turned his head from side to side, as if he was searching for something.

“I thought I heard a deep Cajun accent murmuring, but I don’t know what I heard,” Eric said.

“Gentlemen, please keep up,” the tour guide said loudly.

Joel looked over his shoulder one last time as they moved to catch up with the group. There, standing in a patch of moonlight was a man, top hat tipped low, holding a cane.

“Remember boy, the spirits never forget disrespect,” the Cajun voice said.

CHAPTER ONE

Ten Years Later – French Quarter, New Orleans

Eric

Papers spread out all over the bistro table on the balcony, Eric pushed his glasses up his nose as he reached for the brochure on the corner. He’d climbed out of bed an hour or so ago. They’d crashed hard when they arrived late last night, and it was approaching noon. Maybe they’d get a late brunch? The chill in the air felt good against his upper body, the sleep pants that he’d pulled on gave him enough coverage to sit and plan out their day. He’d heard there was a new exhibit at the Voodoo Museum about some rituals from the bayou. Eric wondered if they had anything to do with the—

“Are you going to do research our whole vacation?” his husband Joel asked from the doorway. “Maybe a bit of time focused on me, perhaps?”

When Eric looked over, Joel was leaning against the door jamb holding a bottle of champagne in one hand, two flutes in the other. He was wearing nothing but a smile.

“Déjà vu?” he murmured as he threw his glasses on the table and walked over to his husband. Eric wrapped his arms around Joel’s neck and leaned in for a kiss. Running his tongue along Joel’s bottom lip, he didn’t have to wait long for Joel to open his mouth. Eric slid his tongue into meet Joel’s, and they started a slow give and take that hadn’t gotten old in the ten years they’d been married. He felt Joel’s arms come around him then a cold hardness pressed against his naked back. “Shit!” he yelped as he jumped back from Joel’s chest.

Joel looked startled before a blush spread over his neck and face. “Sorry, forgot about the champagne.” Raising the flutes, he held them out. “Have a toast with me?”

Eric could feel the smile flow across his lips. “Didn’t we do this about ten years ago? In the same spot?” he asked as he reached for the crystal.

“Worked for me then, why break tradition?” Joel sent the cork flying off the balcony as he opened the bottle.

“You know I’m all about traditions and rituals. I make my living on those,” Eric said as he held out the glasses. After Joel poured the golden liquid, Eric took a small sip but then tipped his to pour over Joel’s chest.

“Fuck! That’s cold. Why would you do that?” Joel asked as he stepped back.

Not giving his husband a chance to move any further away, Eric leaned and ran his tongue up Joel’s chest, catching the liquid. “You forgot the most important part of the tradition. I get to clean you off with my tongue.”

Joel pushed closer to Eric. “Thought the most important part was the proposal,” he said, finishing with a groan.

“While that was important, I think the most important part was us together,” Eric corrected as he reached for the bottle and Joel’s flute. “Let’s take this inside and I’ll show you I’m right.”

“What? I can’t earn beads again?” Joel teased.

Eric placed the bottle and crystal on the table, making sure that while they would hold his papers down, they wouldn’t damage the documents. After he was satisfied with that, he rubbed his body against Joel’s. He moved his right thigh between Joel’s and shifted them backward.

“I’ll buy you some pretty ones later. I’ve never been a big sharer.” Eric ran his hands up Joel’s chest before sliding them around to his back and down to his ass. Leaning in, he licked up Joel’s neck and bit his earlobe before squeezing his cheeks. “And this is all mine. Any objections?”

He could feel the stutter that he heard in Joel’s voice as he answered, “Not a one.”

***

Joel

Joel couldn’t stop staring at Eric across the table. How had he gotten so lucky? He was just a lowly caseworker, trying to help protect children each day, whereas Eric was a college professor known as an expert in Anthropology. Eric’s theories on the impact of Voodoo on immigrants from France to Louisiana was taught worldwide. Watching him today as they were at the new exhibit at the Voodoo Museum had turned Joel on so much, it was all he could do to not pull him into the closest alley, and fuck him.

“Have you heard a word I said?” Eric asked with a chuckle.

“Umm, maybe?” Joel tried to dodge that question.

“Do I even want to know which case you’re obsessing over? You know that your coworkers are perfectly capable of protecting the youth population of Portland without you, right?” Eric teased.

Joel shifted in his seat, glad that the long white tablecloth covered his lap. There was no way that he could hide his hardon without it. Time to share his predicament with his husband. Picking up his wine glass, he brought it to his lips but stopped shy of touching them, instead he ran his tongue back and forth long the rim. He watched as Eric’s eyes snapped to the motion. Gotcha.

“Actually, I was obsessing over why you’re still with me,” he said with a shrug. “How—”

“Don’t fucking start that shit again. I am with you because I love you,” Eric interrupted, leaning across the table, making Joel meet his eyes. “I’d do anything for you. I hate that you think yourself unworthy. If I could bring your father back from the dead, just so I could condemn him for what he did to you and your brother, not to mention your mother, I would in a heartbeat.” Eric sat back in the chair. Joel could almost see the thoughts going through Eric’s mind. “Hmm, we are in New Orleans over Mardi Gras, wonder if Baron Samedi would take an offering for that?”

“Oh no you don’t. There will be no offerings. No playing with the dead.” Joel still, even after all the years of Eric trying to convince him, didn’t believe in all that mumbo jumbo.

“But what if—”

“Would you like to know what else was going through my mind?” It was Joel’s turn to cut off Eric.

“What, pray tell?”

Joel could see that he had Eric’s full attention now. “I was thinking about how I wanted to pull you from the museum this afternoon. That—”

“You said you didn’t mind going to the museum for the exhibit. We can’t spend—”

“Let me finish. I didn’t mind going to the museum with you. Watching you when you’re absorbed in examining a new theory or artifact gets me excited. As you were studying the Numfo Altar, I was studying you. You are a subject that I’m an expert in. Which spot on your neck turns you into a puddle. How when I run my fingers across your lower back, you arch into me harder. A puff of air to your ear, makes you shiver and moan.” Joel stopped for a minute to get himself under some sort of control. “So yeah, I wanted to drag you out of the museum, find the closest dark alley and fuck you against the bricks.”

Joel watched as Eric sat there blinking. It took a moment before Eric seemed to snap himself out of the stupor that Joel had put him in. He watched as Eric looked around the restaurant then raised his hand.

“Check please,” Eric said, not breaking eye contact with Joel.

§ § §

Eric

Holy fuck. What Joel could do to him with a few words, stunned Eric. It was all he could do to not pull Joel across the table, but Muriel’s really wasn’t the place for that. Luckily, their waiter had been close by and in no time, produced their bill.

When they stepped outside, Bourbon Street was alive with partygoers. Eric could hear jazz competing with dance music and hard rock. He kept a tight hold on Joel’s hand as he practically dragged his husband down the sidewalk. Spying what he was looking for about ten feet ahead of them, Eric sped up.

“Hey, what’s the hurry? You know I’m a sure thing,” Joel asked from behind.

Abruptly, turning to his right, Eric took three steps down the alley and pushed Joel against the side of the building. Joel let out a gasp but that was all Eric allowed as he claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. As Eric pushed his tongue into Joel’s mouth, he gripped his hips tight. It wasn’t often that he took control but something in him was demanding it tonight. He felt Joel buck into him and pressed him harder against the stones.

“Need your mouth on me,” Eric mumbled as he pulled back for air.

“Let up a bit and I’ll blow you away. Your wish is my command,” Joel responded.

There was no way that Joel meant what he implied but Eric released his hold on Joel’s hips. That was apparently all Joel needed as Eric was twisted until his back was on the bricks and Joel was reaching for Eric’s belt. Before his belt was undone, Eric caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed as a black shadow appeared next to Joel. He felt more than heard Joel scream as the shadow disappeared and Joel dropped to the ground. Looking down, Eric saw a stain appear on Joel’s stomach as Joel fell. “Joel! Baby! Focus on me! Someone call nine-one-one!”

Eric fell next to his husband and pushed hard on Joel’s abdomen. He could stop the flow of blood until help came. Something moved at the end of the alley, away from Bourbon Street. Eric twisted his head to look, not releasing the pressure he had on Joel’s stomach. He couldn’t make out much except a white face with dark eyes. The mouth looked misshapen.

“Your husband should’ve shown respect. The spirits never forget and take their due,” a voice heavy with a Cajun accent came down the alley. Eric would swear he’d heard that voice before.

“Help me, please?” he pleaded as he could feel Joel’s blood coat his hands. He looked down at his husband and could tell he was fading.

“You have belief, but your man doesn’t,” the voice answered and when Eric looked back, nothing and no one was there.

§ § §

Joel

Joel looked down on Eric holding him, screaming for help. Hearing a deep laugh, he looked to his left. Standing there was a man wearing a suit and top hat. When the man met his gaze, Joel could see that his face was made up like a skull. What the fuck?

“Still don’t believe, boy? I told you, the spirits never forget when they’ve been disrespected. But they recognize the belief in your man. Sleep, while the spirits make their decision.” The man waved his hand in front of Joel’s face.

Joel felt light-headed and began to fall. Hmm, guess this is what it feels like to die. I thought it would hurt more.

CHAPTER TWO

Steven

He couldn’t believe Joel was dead. Oh, Steven knew it but couldn’t believe it. He’d been the one to fly to New Orleans to be there for Eric. He’d been the one to coordinate the transfer of Joel’s body. Eric had been a zombie and not one of the cool ones from Walking Dead, although he was as mindless as one of them.

It had only taken him ten hours to get to Eric’s side from when he’d called him. Steven hadn’t been farther than in the next room since he’d gotten to Tulane Hospital. Finding Eric huddled in the waiting room had been a fist to Steven’s heart. He’d been in love with his friend for years; but he knew the depth of Eric’s love for Joel and accepted that his love would never be returned. Watching the devotion that Joel had for Eric had made it easy. But what was he going to do now?

An alarm went off on his phone, breaking Steven out of his thoughts. Shit, time to get them ready and over to the funeral home. Taking a deep breath, Steven pushed up from the couch and went to the bedroom door. Knocking softly, he pushed it open.

“Hey you, you’ve got to get up and dressed. We need to be there in an hour,” he said quietly.

“What? If I don’t show up does that mean it won’t be real and Joel will walk through the door?” Eric asked flatly, not moving from the bed.

Walking over to the bed, Steven sat down and put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “As much as I wish that burying your head in the pillows and ignoring the time would make Joel come back, this is the new reality. Joel was taken from you way too soon. He held your heart and there’s nothing that anyone will say today to fill the void and bring him back.”

Eric turned over and buried his head against Steven’s mid-section, his shoulders shaking with more sobs. Christ, would this get any easier? Steven wrapped his right arm around Eric and ran his left hand through Eric’s hair. He sat there holding his friend until he seemed to cry himself out.

“Come on, a quick shower will make you feel physically better and ready to face everyone. I’ll lay out your suit for you,” Steven said as he stood up.

Eric flopped back against the pillows before he pushed himself up. “You know this is going to suck, right?”

“The past week has sucked and I know it’s not going to get any better in the next day, but I have faith that as time passes, it will get better. It’s never going to be the same, but I hope in time you’ll find happiness again.” Steven tamped down the hope that flamed to life inside of him that he could be the one to bring Eric happiness in the future. Even with Joel gone, why would someone as vibrant as Eric look at someone as plain as Steven?

“Happiness? Yeah, right,” Eric mumbled as he shut the bathroom door.

§ § §

Eric

Whoever came up with the ritual of a wake must have been a masochist. Why else would people want to stand around with a dead body just to pay their respects. Eric knew that the information about rituals surrounding death was in his mind somewhere but right now, he was lucky he remembered how to talk without screaming.

“Eric, I’m so sorry about Joel. He was such a great guy,” Matt, Joel’s supervisor, said as he shook Eric’s hand. “We’ll miss him.”

Eric bit off the rude reply in his head. Didn’t voice ‘you think you’ll miss him, what about me?’. He just nodded before saying, “He always had good things to say about you and his coworkers. Was always concerned with the cases.”

“He always went above and beyond for the kids. His dedication made him a great caseworker,” Matt told him. Eric had a hard time meeting Matt’s eyes. Would this fucking wake ever end? Looking over Matt’s shoulder, Eric could see Steven standing there watching him. Eric nodded slightly which Steven returned as he moved toward him.

“You’re Matt, right?” Steven asked as he stepped up next to Eric. “Joel had so much to say about you. Have you met Joel’s brother?” Steven guided Matt away from Eric.

Thank fuck for Steven. His friend hadn’t left his side for a week. Steven had taken care of everything for Eric. The only thing that Eric had insisted on doing was calling Joel’s brother. Making that phone call was in his personal top five of hardest things to do. Jimmy hadn’t believed Eric at first, thought Joel had put him up to a prank; it was just the type of prank that Joel would play. Once Jimmy had realized that Eric was serious, he’d broken down. Joel and Jimmy had been close. Eric wasn’t sure if Jimmy had told Joel’s mother that he was gone or not. The last beating from Joel’s father had been so severe that she never recovered from the head trauma that pushed her into dementia.

Eric moved over to the casket and looked at Joel’s body lying there. “Why did you have to leave?” Eric whispered. The memory of a voice passed through Eric’s mind, as if the person was standing right next to him saying ‘he didn’t believe’.

“Professor Hoffman, is there anything I can do for you?” Ron, Eric’s TA, asked. His voice snapped Eric back to the present. “Do you want me to cover your lectures for another week? Dean Simmons wasn’t sure how much time you wanted to take. I can cover the section on the Gates of Guinee, but I know you were hoping to bring back some new material on the altars around New Orleans. If you’d—”

“Ron, let’s wait until after the break to figure out when I’m coming back. Dean Simmons has told me to take all the time that…” Eric trailed off. Something was niggling in his memory. What had Ron been saying? The Gates of Guinee? He’d tried to block the memory of being in the alley holding Joel as he died but Eric swore that there had been a man there with them talking about the spirits. Could that have been Baron Samedi? He needed Steven. “Excuse me, Ron. I need to find Steven.”

“You mean Doctor Mallery? He just walked into the room,” Ron said pointing at Steven over Eric’s shoulder.

Rushing toward Steven, Eric pulled him into the private room off to the side that he’d been told to use if he needed a break.

“Eric? Are you okay? The wake is almost over but I’m sure tha—”

“Steven, what if Baron Samedi was telling me something in that alley? That me believing could bring Joel back?” Eric talked over Steven. He needed to figure this all out.

“What the hell are you talking about? Baron Samedi isn’t real. I know that he’s known as the loa of resurrection but he doesn’t really exist. He doesn’t have the power to bring back the dead. No one and no entity does. I know that losing Joel is difficult, but you’ve got to accept it.” Steven’s statements were harsh, but Eric knew that Steven was only trying to help him.

“But what if my beliefs are the difference? What if my studies have brought about this reality? What if because of me, Joel died?” Eric finished quietly, closing his eyes.

Eric felt Steven move closer and wrap his arms around him. They stood there for a minute before Steven said, “Okay, what do we need to do?”

§ § §

Joel

Joel shivered. Even asleep, he was cold. Why wouldn’t Eric snuggle up against him and warm him?

“Your man is about to do more for you than you’ve ever dreamed of. If you believe in prayer, you might want to say one to your god. You disrespected mine long ago,” a man said in Joel’s dream world.

Joel began murmuring in his sleep. “Our Father…”

CHAPTER THREE

Eight months later

Eric

He didn’t know how to keep going. He really didn’t. Fate… Karma… Kismet…whatever the bitch wanted to be called had taken Joel from him eight months ago and Eric wasn’t living. Okay, he was being dramatic but…

Standing there over his kitchen sink, drinking his morning coffee, Eric took in the view of the garden. He had hired a landscaper to come in and tend it this year. Joel had loved his plants, said that they brought him peace, that he could just focus on the soil and forget the traumas he saw every day. Eric had donated the vegetables to the local food pantry, there had been way too much for just him.

The dreams over the past few nights were kicking his ass. He kept dreaming of Joel lying on a floor in the dark, shivering and mumbling the Lord’s Prayer. Yeah, his subconscious was having a field day with him. He felt like he was the kick ball going back and forth between Catholicism and Voodoo because his dreams then changed to him making an offering to Baron Samedi.

He looked over his shoulder to his dining room table. It was covered with books and papers. There were more stacked on the floor and chairs. Christ, it felt like he was doing more research now than when he was working on his doctoral thesis. But this was more important. It felt like a matter of life and death. Well, it kinda was, wasn’t it? His life and Joel’s death? Morbid much?

A glance at the clock on the microwave told him that he needed to get his ass in gear. How the dean had talked him into adding Religion 101 to his teaching load this semester, Eric couldn’t remember, but he’d agreed to it. There was no way that he could throw Pam, his TA this year, to the masses. Since the lecture hall was fucking filled to the limits, yeah, it was the masses. Pam was definitely helping grade for this course though. Should have thought the syllabus through more before assigning a mid-term and final paper. Of course, since he really didn’t have a life outside of teaching and researching these days, Eric did have time to do most of the grading himself.

It didn’t take long for him to shower, dress and get out the door. Twenty minutes before his first lecture, Eric was unlocking his office door. He’d barely dropped his messenger bag down before there was a knock on the door frame.

“Professor Hoffman? Um, I’m not sure I understand the chapter you assigned for today.” The student in the doorway looked to be all of ten.

And so his day began.

§ § §

Steven

He’d lost his ever-loving mind. What had he been thinking when he agreed to help Eric contact Joel through the Gates of Guinee? Oh yeah, just like every other time Eric needed something, Steven was there. It wasn’t like Eric was ever going to return his love, but Steven couldn’t stop.

Trudging across campus, Steven hefted the books higher so he didn’t drop them. He’d found a collection on the interlibrary system that had been donated to the library at Rollins College in Florida. A private donor had found the journals in an old farmstead. The donor hadn’t thought they were worth anything but didn’t feel right throwing them out. Figured maybe there might be some historical value, so he’d taken a tax write-off.

Thankfully, a group of students was exiting Eliot Hall and held the door for him. It didn’t take long for him to take the elevator to the fourth floor and Eric’s office. Steven kicked on the door, knowing Eric was hiding inside. Eric used to keep his office door open all the time but since Joel died, it was only open during Eric’s office hours.

Kicking again, Steven called out, “I know you’re in there, Eric. Open the damn door. These journals are getting heavy.” The door opened just as Steven drew his foot back from another kick. Eric was standing there, all rumpled, blinking, with dark circles under his eyes. What the hell? “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” He didn’t think Eric had moved on from Joel’s death, but maybe he was wrong.

“Steven?” Eric’s voice was all gravelly as if he’d been screaming.

“Should I come back?” Steven didn’t want to see whoever was responsible for the dazed expression on Eric’s face. He’d gone through that enough times with Joel. As he took a step back, the box of journals slipped and he had to drop to squat to save them. Putting Steven right at crotch level. What fucking deity had he pissed off? Wait, Eric’s cock wasn’t hard. Okay, whoever was behind the door didn’t have an effect on Eric. Oh, that made Steven happy.

“Whoa, let me help you,” Eric said as he grabbed Steven’s arms and helped him balance to stand up. “What are you carrying? Why bring it to me? You do know there’s intercampus mail, right?”

Steven scoffed at that question. “Like I’d trust those students to not lose these. Don’t you know that bunch are just doing work study to pay for their recreational drugs?”

“Did you miss the sensitivity training before the semester started? Let me clear off a space for that.” Eric moved back from Steven and he got his first look at the office.

“Eric, what the hell? Did mid-terms explode in your office?” There were papers and books spread over every available surface except the oversized club chair in the corner. That just had a blanket and a pillow thrown on the seat. When he turned to look at Eric, the man was blushing.

“Not exactly… I kinda assigned a paper to the method and theory course, and then Pam is sick… and I agreed to write that article for Social Analysis… and yeah, this is the result. Besides, what life do I have outside of here?”

Not caring about the papers anymore, Steven dropped the box on the table and pulled Eric into his arms. Eric fell against Steven and wrapped his arms around Steven’s waist, resting his head on Steven’s shoulder.

“Have you slept at all? Why haven’t you called me? You know I’m here for you?” Look at him being all supportive. The small voice in his head could shove his opinion about how good Eric felt in his arms.

Eric mumbled something that Steven couldn’t understand before he pushed back. “I don’t want you to see me as a burden and stop taking my calls. It’s been eight months. I should be more stable by now. I should be sleeping without dreams. What’s in the box?” Eric asked with a half-hearted grin.

“You’re not Brad Pitt and I’m not Morgan Freeman. Quoting SE7EN isn’t going to get you anything other than my undivided attention and won’t make me forget that you’re struggling again. Damn, now I’m going to have to watch it again this weekend. Guess what you’re doing this weekend?” Steven asked.

“Watching SE7EN. Now, box?”

“Fine but we will get back to this ‘you’re a bother’ thought.” Steven stared at Eric until he nodded. “Behold, the glorious words I bring,” he said hoping to make Eric laugh. Eric didn’t outright laugh but he did chuckle.

“All words and books are glorious to you. You’re a librarian. Why are these glorious enough for you to haul them to my office, which as you’ve seen, is already covered in words. Whether those words are glorious remains to be seen but I do have hope for a few of the papers.”

“These words are in the form of a collection of journals that they believe are from the late 1800s. They were found in a wooden chest in a dilapidated barn outside of Chalmette, Louisiana. The guy who found them thought he was going to be the next American Picker but he didn’t find much more than these journals. When he realized that they didn’t have any monetary value he sent them to Rollins College. Why there instead of, oh I don’t know, Tulane or LSU, I have no clue. The listing on the interlibrary site mentioned Cajun, Voodoo, Louisiana. You know that I put a query in place back in the spring. Remember the listing of books I gave you? I never took the query down.” He shrugged. “So these could be a treasure trove of information or some quacks ramblings.”

Steven watched as the interest grew in Eric’s eyes and he reached for the box. “No one has done an in-depth analysis of the journals? What about verifying the authenticity of them? Did—

“Stop. I can see your mind is already going a thousand miles per hour. What I just told you is all I know. I saw the listing and requested the loan. Everything else, you’ll have to figure out. But first, you’re coming with me to get some dinner and then you’re going to bed. You look like the guardians have let the spirits drag you through the gates.”

Eric reached to pull the journals out but stopped. Steven stood there as Eric moved frantically around the office, piling books and papers in some order that only Eric would know before he went back to the box. Steven knew that there were twenty-eight journals and that they appeared to be grouped but that was about all he knew. He listened as Eric started mumbling.

“Looks like there are seven different colors…” Eric sorted the journals by color. “Twenty-eight journals… wonder if there’s a relation to the rhyme… seven nights, seven moons, seven gates, seven tombs. What if each of the sets corresponds to a gate and a guardian?”

CHAPTER FOUR

New Orleans – six days before Fat Tuesday

Eric

His heart hurt being back here. The memories were crashing against him left and right. Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed here in this hotel. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked for this room. Maybe he should have booked a room at the Hilton, somewhere he didn’t see Joel every time he turned around, somewhere he didn’t expect his husband to appear in the doorway when he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

Eric crossed to the pile of journals sitting on the bed. He really hadn’t needed to bring them with him; he’d spent enough hours with the journals of Tamara Augustin over the past three months. Tamara had been a Voodoo practitioner outside of New Orleans between 1870 and 1900. She hadn’t been a Voodoo queen, just a believer. Unlike most servants of the time, she’d learned to read and write. Tamara had been a handmaiden to the spoiled daughter of a businessman who had wanted his daughter to be as smart as she was beautiful.

Tamara’s journals were an unbelievable find. Eric had an appointment after he was done with his personal quest with Gray Baptiste, the curator of special collections at the Voodoo Museum. Since most rituals were passed down orally, these books were invaluable. He’d met Gray last year when Joel indulged him at the museum, and they’d kept in touch. Gray had cautioned Eric more than once about his quest; his beliefs in the spiritual world of New Orleans were deeply ingrained unlike Eric’s which, while he believed, his beliefs were more centered in the academic realm.

Sifting through his notes, Eric found the list of things he needed. Tamara’s journals focused on the Gates — which ritual would need to be performed, what offerings should be left, and what order the Gates should be visited. Making sure he had his wallet, cell and room key, Eric folded the list and slipped it in his pocket. Pulling open the door, he stepped out into the hall and into a body.

“Going somewhere without me?” Steven’s voice sounded from above as he caught Eric from landing on his ass.

Shit, he’d been hoping that he’d escape Steven’s watchful eye. “Hey you, thought you were tired and were going to rest.” Avoidance, thy name is Eric.

“Nice try. You said you were tired and wanted to rest. I said I was going to put my things away then come and get you for food. Now, where are you headed?” Steven guided Eric toward the elevator.

“Just a walk around the Quarter,” Eric said, tentatively.

“ehhh, wrong answer. Try again.” Steven pushed the down button, not looking away from Eric’s face.

“I forgot my charger so I was going to grab one?” he tried as they stepped into the elevator car.

“ehhh, second strike. I watched you put your charger in your messenger bag before we left for the airport. Going to go for a third or just tell me the truth? You know I’m here for you.”

Christ, Steven sounded hurt. “I’ve got the list of things I need for each Gate. Tamara’s journals were very detailed. I was going shopping. Why don’t you go have a drink at NOLA Brewing and I’ll meet you there,” Eric said as they walked through the lobby.

“Mister Hoffman, one moment please,” the front desk attendant called out.

Eric walked over to the desk with Steven trailing behind. “Yes?”

“Jacki didn’t know that there was a package awaiting you on your arrival. I was just going to have it sent to your room but since you’re here…” The man ducked down and came up with a small box wrapped in brown paper and twine. Eric’s name and Royal Sonesta were written across the top in black marker. The package was light and he didn’t recognize the handwriting.

“Thank you.” Eric and Steven moved away from the desk to a seating area. They sat down on the couch and Eric started to pull at the twine.

“Any idea what’s inside?” Steven asked.

“What? Not going to quote Brad to me?” Eric teased, ripping the paper.

“Nah, not today. Well?”

Eric pulled the top off and pushed aside the tissue paper. He found two leather cords with small burlap bags hanging from them. There was a piece of paper under the necklaces.

One for you, one for the strong heart with you

Wear them close to protect your souls

Follow the path as you have found

Let the spirits guide you ‘til true love rejoins

Once reunited, time will be short

But love will heal, if you’re open to it

Remember to close the openings once done

So those that shouldn’t remain, find peace

“What the hell?” Steven exclaimed. “Who sent this?” Steven started to reach for the package, but Eric smacked his hand away.

Eric reached into the box and pulled out one of the necklaces. He brought it to his lips and kissed it before turning to Steven and placing it around his neck. Leaning close, Eric kissed each of Steven’s cheeks before saying, “Que Dieu vous bénisse et vous garde! Wear this for me?” Yeah, the blessing was more Catholic than Voodoo but asking for protection from God wasn’t a bad thing as they did this.

He watched as Steven sat there for a minute before he copied Eric’s actions; he kissed the amulet then placed the cord around Eric’s neck with a quiet “Que Dieu vous bénisse et vous garde!” But instead of kissing Eric’s cheeks, he stunned Eric by kissing him on the lips. It was a short kiss, and Eric would swear he felt Steven’s tongue trace his bottom lip. As Steven broke the kiss, he murmured, “Be careful. You hold my heart.”

§ § §

Steven

Holy fuck. He couldn’t believe he’d kissed Eric and told him that he held his heart. He was trying not to have a meltdown as he followed Eric from shop to shop around the French Quarter. Not knowing what Eric thought he needed for the offerings, he stayed quiet and held the bags.

Eric was talking to one of the street vendors in Jackson Square about some herb that he needed. Steven wasn’t paying too much attention. Yes, he supported Eric, but he really didn’t understand it all. He thought that it was just a way for Eric to process his grief.

“He’ll be yours soon,” a woman said from behind Steven. When he turned, he saw a short older woman with skin the color of a chestnut. She couldn’t be more than five feet, with long braids hanging down her back.

“I’m sorry, are you speaking to me?” he asked.

“You know I am. There’s always been a spark in him for you. It just has been smoldering. It’s about to explode. You’ve been patient and the spirits know. A few more days is all.” She reached out and placed her hand on the amulet resting against his chest. “Keep this close so the spirits recognize you and him. It’ll protect you from harm.” She tapped his chest again before turning and walking away. Okay, that was weird.

“Who was that?” Eric asked as he stopped next to Steven.

“I’m not really sure. Did you get what you needed?” He’d think about what she’d told him later when he was alone in the hotel room.

“All set. Just needed fresh peppermint. First Gate tonight. I’ve got the map in the room and now I’ve got the offerings for the Guardians.”

“Why do I have the feeling we’re not seeing Chris Pratt tonight?” Steven teased.

“Tonight is Baron La Croix and rum. Now, how about food?” Eric suggested.

“Find me some étouffée, sir. I’m starving.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Eric

“Maybe you should go back to the hotel and I’ll call you when I’m back.” Eric wasn’t sure if someone should be here with him as he tried this. Maybe if the person was a practitioner. Although Steven supported Eric, he wasn’t a true believer in Voodoo. Fucking up the ritual could be… bad. It was said that if the Gates weren’t opened and closed in the proper order it would leave them open to powers, or spirits coming back, and causing havoc.

“Like I’m going to let you do this by yourself?” Steven paused like he was giving the idea some consideration. “Yeah, don’t think so. It’s coming up on the one-year anniversary of Joel’s murder and you’re back in New Orleans. They never found who killed him or why, and you think I’m letting you wander around by yourself? Thought you were smarter than that.”

“I really don’t thi—”

“Yeah, you’re not thinking of anything other than seeing Joel again. I’m not sure what you’re hoping to get from that but, as always, I’m here for you. Now, aren’t we supposed to start somewhere off Canal Street?” Steven sounded a bit upset at Eric. Eric hadn’t hidden the fact that he wanted to see Joel again. Actually, he really felt like it was more urgent.

“Traditionally, it’s believed that a person should take a map of the French Quarter, lay Baron Samedi’s sigil on top of it with the cross being at Canal and Basin Streets, then each of the stars shows the location of a Gate. But Tamara’s journals tell a different tale. That the Gates are tuned to the person doing the search. They aren’t solid, so they appear where they connect to the person.” Eric was guiding Steven down Basin Street toward Saint Louis Cemetery Number One.

“So the Gates are in locations that mean something to you?” Steven asked.

“Yeah, kinda. From what I can tell, there are seven different locations that have meaning for me and Joel and that’s where the Gates will be.”

“I know that you and Joel spent time in New Orleans, but wouldn’t it make more sense for the Gates to being back in Portland if they’re in places that have meaning for you and him? Are there really that many spots for you here?”

Eric didn’t think that Steven was arguing with him to be mean but more to understand. He kept walking toward the mausoleum that was the Voodoo Queen’s resting place. He was sure that was where he’d find the first Gate.

“They can’t be in Portland. It’s not an epicenter for spiritual energy. We lived our life together there, but here? This is where it all started. Where we intertwined our lives. Joel proposed here. We got married here. He died here. The spiritual center of our lives revolved around the energy that’s generated in New Orleans.” Eric shifted the bag he carried off his shoulder. “Now, traditionally the first Gate is at Marie Laveau’s grave and I think that it’s here for me also. Do you remember visiting here with us?”

“We took that tour back before we graduated. Joel was joking around about her being nothing more than a gossip.”

“Did you hear the man cautioning Joel?” Eric asked as he pulled a bottle of rum and some change out of the bag before handing it to Steven.

“The tour guide told us to move our asses,” Steven answered, taking the bag.

“There was another man that told Joel that he shouldn’t disrespect the spirits. That they didn’t forget,” Eric corrected as he knelt down. “Now, hush. I’ve got to get this right.”

§ § §

Steven

Steven stepped back and watched Eric. He placed the change on the ground, then broke the seal on the bottle of rum and poured some in a shape around the coins.

“I call on the loa Baron La Croix. I offer you this rum and money as a boon for your help. I wish to be reunited with Joel Desmond. His spirit passed many moons ago. I ask for safe passage,” Eric said in a strong voice.

A shiver went down Steven’s spine as he heard a deep laugh, but he couldn’t tell where it came from. When he looked around, he didn’t see anyone else nearby.

“Who’s there?” he called out.

“Shh, I believe we’re being granted our request from the loa. Merci pour votre aide,” Eric said as he put the bottle next to the change and stood up. “We can leave now.”

“That’s it?” It seemed a bit anticlimactic.

“The first Gate is opened, and Baron La Croix has agreed to my request.” Eric tugged Steven away from the tomb.

“But—”

“Tomorrow night we’ll go to the second Gate and make the offering to Guédé Nibo.”

§ § §

Joel

Joel felt someone shake him and rolled away from them. “Leave me be,” he murmured. He knew he’d lost Eric; he’d never hold him again. It was reality. He was in Hell.

“Boy, your man has shown his respect for the spirits and has opened the first Gate,” a voice heavy with a Cajun accent told him.

That snapped something in Joel, and he jerked up. “No! Eric stop!”

“Ah, it’s too late. He’s stepped on the path and La Croix has deemed him worthy. Are you?” the voice asked.

CHAPTER SIX

The night before Fat Tuesday

Eric

Eric was tired. Down to his bones weary. He knew he’d basically been a zombie for the eleven months. What he would have done without Steven, he wasn’t sure. Steven had been his constant. The first night, he asked a few questions but then he’d just followed along, doing whatever Eric needed.

They’d visited the second through fifth Gates. Offered to Guédé Nibo at the Old Ursuline Convent with brandy and candles; Guédé Pulmaj at St. Anthony’s Garden with whiskey and money; Baron Cimitèire at the Voodoo Museum with sherry and a cigar; and then Guédé Babaco in Jackson Square with some orange liqueur and beads.

Tonight, they’d visit Gallier House. Eric could remember Joel going on and on about having his own garden after visiting the courtyard. He wanted more than just the flowers and shrubs that had been in the small garden. He wanted vegetables and flowers galore. And he’d gotten them. The offering would be some seeds that he’d brought from Joel’s garden and champagne. They didn’t need to leave for a few more hours but he was all ready to go.

At first, he’d thought that one of the Gates would be here but after reading the journals, decided against using it as a location. The memories were too raw. Leaning against the cast iron, Eric watched the jazz band parade down Bourbon Street, drunk followers stumbling behind. Did they even realize the power of the spirits around them? Did they even care?

A knocking at the door broke Eric from his melancholy. Only one person would be on the other side. Steven.

“Aren’t you a bit early?” he asked as he opened the door. Eric froze as he realized Steven wasn’t standing there. There was a statuesque woman in the hallway. She was wearing a long black dress, with pearls wrapped around her neck, her hair piled on top of her head in that mystical way that men never understood. She had a presence to her that Eric could almost feel pulsing against him. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong room,” he said as he moved to close the door.

“Ah chèr, I’m in the right place. Push the door open for me and let me say my piece,” she said, nodding at the door.

Not seeing where he was in any danger, Eric pulled the door back and gestured the woman into the room.

“Merci.” She strutted into the room and gracefully sat down in one of the chairs at the table. “Please join me.”

Seriously? Eric shrugged and sat. He could be patient. It wasn’t like he needed to be somewhere until later.

“Now, chèr, why are you finishing this nonsense? Have you not had your eyes opened? There’s nothing in the past for you. Your future is waiting for you right down the hall,” she said.

“I have no idea what you are talking about nor do I know who you are,” he answered because there was no way she knew what he’d been doing, unless she’d been trailing him. He was just a college professor. No reason for anyone to want to do him harm, and he wasn’t rich.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Lying won’t do you any good. The spirits visited me and told me of your journey. They have been benevolent, but only because of your beliefs have they kept Joel in the Guinee, the in between. Held off those that practice Hoodoo magic from capturing his soul. His disrespect earned him a trip straight to the deep waters, to Hell. They believe you’re blind and sent me to open your eyes.”

Eric shifted in his seat. This was just a bit much for him. Even with all the research and knowledge he possessed. “Who are you?”

“My name is Tamara Baptiste. I am one of the Voodoo Queens currently in this parish. I believe you’re in possession of my great-great grandmere’s journals.”

“Baptiste? As in Gray Baptiste?” he asked.

“Yes, Gray is my husband. He told me about the journals and that he’d cautioned you about your quest. It would be easy for us to close the Gates you’ve opened and send your husband’s soul to the land of the dead. You have so much more waiting for you in this realm.”

Okay, this would explain Gray’s beliefs in the spiritual world being so deeply ingrained. “I can’t stop now. I feel it deep inside that I need to complete this. That without finishing something in me will be forever broken.” Why he was sharing that with this woman, was a mystery, but it felt right.

Eric watched as Tamara tapped her fingers against the arms of the chair. She was obviously arguing with herself.

“Hommes stupides. Ils n’apprennent jamais. Bien, I’ll help you. But be aware, Baron Samedi will expect more from you than the others. He will be waiting at the final Gate. Now, I’m assuming you’ve figured out where you need to be tonight and with what?”

“Yeah, tonight I’ll visit Gallier House with some seeds from Joel’s garden back in Portland and a bottle of the champagne.”

“And the request?” Tamara asked.

“I know what to say. Your namesake was very detailed in her notes. Would you like to look at the journals?” Eric could see that she was vibrating as he asked.

“S’il vous plait. I would love to read her words. My grandmere talked about how Tamara had left journals but that they were lost. Gray told me that they were donated to a library?”

Eric stood and moved over to the desk, picking up the set for tonight’s Gate. “They were. Some hopeful guy was exploring a barn outside of Chalmette, thinking he’d get rich. He donated them to Reed College. Steven found them for me on a library site.”

“Aveugle à l’amour,” she murmured. Eric knew a bit of French so he knew she said something about love but the first word stumped him.

“What love?” he asked.

“Ah, it is not for me to say. With luck and guidance from the spirits, you’ll figure it out,” she told him.

§ § §

Steven

Something was different with Eric tonight and he couldn’t figure out what. Okay, yeah, there was a strikingly beautiful woman with them who claimed to be the great-great-however-many granddaughter of the woman that wrote the journals. Steven wasn’t too sure he believed her, but she was married to the curator of the Voodoo Museum and said she was a Voodoo Queen. Was he going to argue with those facts? Not really. He was putting his faith in Eric and Eric believed so he would.

As they walked along Royal Street toward the Gallier House, he realized they had a problem. “Um, Eric, just thought of something.”

“What?” Eric responded, not slowing down his fast pace. Guess Eric was in a hurry for tonight’s offering.

“How are we getting into the garden? It’s in the courtyard and isn’t it closed to visitors this late at night?” He didn’t want to be a downer but coming all this way to hit an obstacle… yeah, not high on his to-do list.

“Chèr, I took care of that for Eric this afternoon. My cousin is on the Gallier staff and is going to meet us there,” Tamara said. She moved closer to Steven and wrapped her arm around his biceps, leaning close to his shoulder. “Don’t worry. The spirits and I have faith that this will work out as it is meant to. You be true to your heart.”

What the fuck? How could she know his heart? “Umm, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Watch him avoid and deflect. He’d gotten good at that through the years.

Tamara just chuckled and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Belief is what this is all about. You need to be strong in yours.”

As they approached the house, it didn’t look any different from those around it. Steven thought it would. Not sure why. Maybe because of how Joel had gone on and on about it over the years. When they climbed the steps, a woman opened the door and gestured them in.

“Merci, Jennie. I hope you won’t get into any trouble for this,” Tamara said as she placed a kiss on the woman’s cheek.

“Just told Marcus that you needed to access the garden for a small ritual tonight. He knows that you’ll show respect, and nothing will be done to harm the house or its energy.” Jennie frowned. “I still think he’s holding out that you’ll leave Gray and look him up.”

“Sucre, the man is blind but maybe as Eric does his offering this evening, he can ask Baron Kriminel for a favor for you,” Tamara suggested, looking at Eric.

Steven watched as a smile crossed Eric’s lips. Damn, what that man could get Steven to do if he looked at him with a smile that lit up his face. Maybe Steven should ask his own favor tonight? Of course, he didn’t have an offering for the loa.

“Might not be a bad idea for you to ask a favor of the loa yourself, chèr,” Tamara murmured. When had she moved back to his side?

“What would I ask for? Besides, if I’ve learned anything from Eric over the past few nights and months is that you don’t ask the spirits for a favor without leaving them a boon.” Steven patted his pockets then held out his hands. “No boon here.”

Tamara put her hand up and wiggled her pointer finger side to side. She reached over and plucked the cigar from his shirt pocket, holding it in front of his face. “I happen to know that Baron Kriminel is fond of tobacco. What to ask for? Don’t think me stupid. It’s all over your face when you look at Eric. You’re in love with him. He is your heart.”

Steven opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut. He couldn’t utter the lie. He shut his eyes and shook his head. “Joel owns Eric’s heart. Always has, always will, whether he’s in this realm or another.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t hurt to ask the spirits for guidance now, does it?” Tamara suggested.

§ § §

Eric

Standing in the entry to the courtyard, Eric expected Joel to step out of the shadows. It looked exactly as it had when they were here a decade ago. He closed his eyes and breathed in the air. The aroma of the flowers was faint since it was winter, and there was no way that he could identify what they were. That had been Joel’s forte.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this,” Steven said quietly as he took Eric’s hand and squeezed.

Opening his eyes, Eric looked at his friend. Really looked at him. Had he always been this handsome? Whereas Joel had the classical boy-next-door thing going for him, Steven had the dark and swarthy. Wonder what Steven’s stubble would feel like against his neck. He always seemed to have the perfect five o’clock shadow no matter the time of day.

Eric shook his head. Where were these thoughts coming from? And right when he was visiting the Gates to contact his dead husband? What the hell?

“I need to finish this. I didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t get to tell him I loved him one more time. Didn’t—”

Steven cut him off. “He knew. You showed him every day with the little things, you did. Making sure that the coffee was set for the morning. Letting him watch all those outdoorsman shows when there was no chance in hell of him ever doing those things. Joel knew what a lucky man he was. He wasn’t stupid.” Steven leaned over and kissed Eric’s cheek. “Go make your offering.”

He gripped Steven’s hand tight for a second, then let go and stepped onto the stone path. Eric walked up to the stone circle and squatted down. Last time he was here it was a fountain, now it had some tall plants in it. Opening the bag he carried, Eric pulled out the envelope with the seeds. He tore the end and gently threw the seeds onto the ground. Grabbing the champagne bottle, he unwrapped the foil, fought with the wire then popped the cork, sending bubbles over the seeds.

“I call on the loa Baron Kriminel. The other five loas have granted me safe passage, I ask the same of you. My wish remains steadfast, I wish to be reunited with Joel Desmond. My need is a balm for my heart that one day, it will heal. While there are those that exploit the energy that you and those that practice Voodoo possess, I only ask for a brief time with Joel. His soul has existed in the Guinee for long enough,” Eric called out in a strong voice. “There are those that pass their time here at Gallier House that are blind to the beauty around them. Please grant them clarity, that they will see what’s right before their eyes. As alms for your generosity, please accept the seeds that are from Joel’s hard work, and a bottle of the champagne that we favored for our celebrations.”

When he finished talking, Eric couldn’t hold back his sobs any longer. He dropped his chin to his chest and let the tears flow. Something felt different though. More that they were soothing him. He felt a slender arm come around his shoulders and help him stand.

“Come, chèr. I feel the Baron has blessed your journey,” Tamara said as she guided him from the courtyard.

§ § §

Steven

Steven watched as Tamara led Eric away before he stepped up to the stone circle. He didn’t kneel, just stood there looking at the bottle and seeds.

“I don’t have any fancy words. I haven’t made offerings to the other loa but Tamara thinks you’d listen to my request. I ask that you help heal Eric’s heart. That you grant the opening of the Gate so he can find peace,” Steven said, bending to place the cigar next to the champagne.

As he turned to follow Eric and Tamara, he heard a deep laugh echo through the courtyard. “Boy, your heart has belonged to that man for years. Samedi and I will be speaking of these requests,” a man said from the dark.

Did he really just hear a man speak? Steven looked around the courtyard, and there was no one there except him. A cool breeze travelled down Steven’s back making him shiver. Yeah, maybe he’d been paying a little too much attention to Voodoo legends.

§ § §

Joel

He’d woken more and more over the past few… hours? Days? Joel wasn’t sure how time passed where he was. Actually, he wasn’t really sure where he was.

“Boy, I told you. This is the Guinee. The in between. Your husband’s belief has kept you here until he could return once more,” the man said as he stepped out of the shadows.

It was the man with the skeleton face. Joel remembered Eric telling him about this spirit before. “Baron Samedi?” he asked hesitantly.

Samedi lifted his top hat and bowed deeply. “Not at your service. Myself and the other loa are doing your husband’s bidding. He has made offerings at six of the Gates and has been granted safe passage. I do believe I will be granting his final request tomorrow evening.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Fat Tuesday

Eric

“You know, using your fork to push the food around the dish isn’t actually eating. You have to put the food into your mouth for it to count,” Steven said, snapping Eric out of his daze.

Eric could feel the blush warming his cheeks and neck. He dropped the fork and picked up his iced tea. Probably should’ve opted for something alcoholic but he didn’t want his mind fuzzy. Something was going to happen tonight; he just wasn’t sure what.

“I’m not really hungry. Maybe I should’ve stayed back at the room,” he said, finally.

“Don’t make me feed you in public. You pulled this shit right after Joel died. Having to bring you to the emergency room because you looked like a corpse was not on my bucket list. Your body needs the fuel and I’m pretty sure you don’t ever want to get that dehydrated again. Now, pick up the fork and try your jambalaya.” The look that Steven gave Eric across the table wasn’t the friendliest he’d ever gotten from the man. He’d much rather have Steven smile at him.

Giving in to Steven’s demands, Eric forced himself to put some of the spicy rice in his mouth and chew. Oooh, that was good. He went back for another bite almost before he’d finished swallowing. Steven grinned at him as he took a sip of his iced tea.

“Told you so. Now, are you sure that trying to open a Gate in an alley off Bourbon Street on Fat Tuesday is the smartest move? Maybe the Gate isn’t there? Maybe it’s at Cypress Grove Cemetery. It could be that older Tamara’s journal is wrong.” Steven finished speaking and took a bite of his grouper.

He held up a finger for Steven to wait for him to answer. His mouth was full. That would teach Steven to prod him to eat and then ask questions at the same time.

“I’m pretty positive that the last Gate is in that alley. I swear I saw Baron Samedi that night. As for being interrupted? I think the spirits, while they’ll be enjoying the revelry, they’ll protect us and the ritual.” Eric paused before continuing. “Maybe you should stay at the hotel this time.” He didn’t think Steven would go for the idea but Eric felt that he should try. His feelings for the night were unsettled.

“Not listening, la… la… la,” Steven sing-songed.

§ § §

Steven

He was surprised his eyes hadn’t rolled out of his head at Eric’s suggestion. If he hadn’t let Eric go to the previous six Gates solo, why would Eric think he wouldn’t accompany him to the final Gate? Never mind that, oh yeah, the final Gate was guarded by Baron Samedi himself. The Baron of New Orleans. Not. Going. To. Happen.

Steven looked over his shoulder as they walked back to the hotel. It felt like someone was following them or watching them. But he didn’t see anyone that was paying them any undue attention.

“You wait here in the lobby. I’ll go grab the stuff for tonight and be right back,” Eric said as he pushed open the hotel door.

“I’ll wait over there,” Steven said, pointing to the seating area where they’d opened the package. As he sat down, his hand drifted to the amulet under his shirt.

“Have faith. You have the protection of the loa. You have that man’s heart,” a woman’s voice said from behind him. When he turned, it was the woman from Jackson Square.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about just like you did before. He needs this so he feels complete and can open himself to happiness again. All will be well.” She nodded as she finished speaking.

“You ready?” Eric’s question pulled Steven’s attention away from the woman.

“Just waiting on you,” Steven said, looking back and seeing that the woman had disappeared. Or was she really there in the first place? “Been waiting on you for years.”

“Here I am,” Eric said, holding out his hand.

“Have faith,” the woman’s voice echoed in Steven’s ears. “Have faith.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Eric

Pushing through the partying crowd seemed impossible. Why couldn’t the alley be off Decatur or Cartres streets? Oh no, Joel had to drag him into one off Bourbon Street. Not that he’d trade Joel’s possessiveness from that night. He’d trade how the night ended. Sitting in the stark waiting room at Tulane’s emergency room wasn’t his best memory from that trip. No, reliving Joel’s proposal was.

“What are you thinking about?” Steven shouted in Eric’s ear as a jazz band strolled by.

“What?” Eric yelled back.

“You just got this sly grin on your face. What brought that on?” Steven tugged Eric against the brick, pulling them out of the flow of the bodies.

Eric shook his head. Yeah, that was a memory he was keeping close. “Remembering something from last year.” Noticing that the crowd had lessened a bit, he started walking again. “Tamara isn’t joining us again. She said that she wasn’t needed tonight.”

Seeing the alley up ahead, Eric paused and took a deep breath. If this all worked out, he was about to see Joel again. Straightening his shoulders, he looked at Steven. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Stupid? Me?” Steven joked but the expression on his face wasn’t a happy one. “Let’s get this done.”

Eric’s gaze went to the right side of the alley, almost expecting to see Joel’s body lying there waiting for him. Shaking his head, he moved into the darkness at the end, away from the street. Eric reached into his bag and pulled out his first offering. Grilled peanuts.

“I call on loa Baron Samedi, the leader of the loa and some say the Gede. Those under your hand have given me passage. My heart remains genuine. A visit with Joel to soothe my soul and release his,” Eric said as he spread the peanuts on the ground.

“Peanuts? That’s all you have?” a deep Cajun voice said from the dark.

Startled, Eric looked up and tried to see who was speaking. “I did my research. You love grilled peanuts. And I’m not that ignorant. I’m asking for peace from Baron Samedi. That requires more than just one boon.” Eric slipped his hand into the bag and pulled out a thermos and opened it. The aroma of fresh-brewed chicory coffee covered the stench of the alley.

“You have done well with your research, Professor.” As a man stepped from the shadows, a mist appeared covering the space between the buildings. His face painted as a skeleton and wearing a tux with the ever-present top hat. Eric wasn’t sure what he should do. Drop to his knees? While he had faith in the rituals, he wasn’t completely sure that something… someone… would manifest.

“In the flesh,” Baron Samedi said, tipping his hat.

§ § §

Steven

What the fuck! Where did the mist come from? It was just him and Eric in the alley and then… Holy shit! Baron Samedi. Steven must have made a noise because the man turned and grinned at him.

“Yes, but I’m far from holy,” Baron Samedi told him before turning back to Eric. “My loas appreciated their gifts and I’m sure I will as well. I haven’t had a good cup of coffee in a while.”

“Does that mean…” Steven trailed off as Samedi waved his right arm and the mist cleared to show Joel standing there.

“Ten minutes is what I grant. Do not move from this space. Do not ask for more. My grace only goes so far,” Samedi cautioned.

§ § §

Joel

One minute he was alone in the dark, the next he was staring into Eric’s eyes once more. He never thought that he’d see Eric again.

“How long?” he asked.

Joel watched as Eric began crying and fell to his knees. He went to his husband and wrapped his arms around him.

“A year,” Eric whispered.

He’d been dead for a year? Why was he here? If he really was dead, how could he be holding Eric in his arms again? Joel looked up at the man from the dark.

“I told you that your man’s beliefs were keeping you from going on. He made his offerings at the Gates and we’ve granted him his favor,” the man said.

“Joel?” Steven’s voice came from behind him. Joel hadn’t noticed him standing there. “Eric has done nothing but survive and grieve for you this past year.”

“Eric?” Joel said as he really looked at his husband. Several creases bracketed in his face that Joel didn’t remember being there and Eric felt thinner in his arms. Eric had never been one to bulk up, but he was never this skinny.

“It’s been hard going on without you. They took you from me. I didn’t get to tell you I loved you. I didn’t get to say goodbye. You left me!” Eric yelled. “You weren’t supposed to die on me. We were supposed to grow old together.” Eric started crying again.

Joel just held Eric as he cried; Eric felt so good in his arms, against him. Joel felt a hand touch his head and saw that the man had moved closer, finally recognizing what… who he was. “Baron Samedi?” At the man’s smile, Joel continued, “You have the power to bring me back?”

“Not unless you want to be a zombie. The spirits took you from this realm for disrespect. I held you in the Guinee because I saw something in your man that night,” Baron Samedi said. “The spirits require a soul and they’re a demanding bunch.”

“Take mine,” Steven offered. “Take mine and give Joel back to Eric.”

Before Joel even finished processing what Steven had said, Eric jumped from his arms and was standing in front of Steven.

“No! I’m not losing you too. You kept me sane. You made sure I was eating. You’ve been with me every moment of the past year,” Eric declared.

Joel watched as Eric shoved Steven hard against his chest, pushing the man back several steps.

“Uh ah, watch where you step. The boundary must remain intact. Yes, I am powerful, but my energy has its limits,” Baron Samedi cautioned.

Joel stood and walked over to Steven and Eric. He’d always known that Steven had feelings for Eric, but he’d also known that Steven wouldn’t do anything to hurt his relationship with Eric. They’d gotten drunk one night when Eric was traveling to present at a conference and Steven had confessed. Well, he’d admitted that if he’d seen Eric first, Joel wouldn’t have had a chance. He would have claimed the man on the spot.

“What you told me all those years ago hasn’t faded has it?” he asked Steven.

“Not one bit,” Steven answered before he turned to Eric. “I just want your happiness. You’ve barely been alive this past year. If Joel can bring you back to being you again, then let me go.”

Joel could see the anguish in Eric’s eyes and the thought of having to choose between him and Steven. It wasn’t something he ever thought he’d see. And it wasn’t something that he was going to let hurt Eric.

He pulled Eric into his arms and dropped his forehead to Eric’s. “I can remember the first time I saw you on campus. It was in the dining hall and you were arguing with that girl about whether or not the afterlife existed. What it would look like. What it consisted of. You were so adamant that there was something after death. That all the religions of the world couldn’t be wrong even if their interpretations were different.” Joel paused for a minute, just absorbing the feel of his husband against him. “I wasn’t sure I agreed with your argument but the passion that you showed? I wanted that for my own and I got it. What I did to earn your love, I’m not sure but I’m grateful for every little bit you gave me. I was blessed to have you for all these years but Fate or Karma or the spirits have another plan for you. One that doesn’t include me at your side.”

“No! I can’t—”

Joel cut off Eric. “Yes, you can. You have strengths that you don’t even realize. If it’s allowed, I’ll be watching over you,” he said before dropping his lips to Eric’s. He wanted one last kiss. Needed to kiss him one last time. Pulling back from the kiss, he whispered, “I love you. I will always love you but you need to let me go.”

Baron Samedi cleared his throat and they all looked at him. “It is time.”

Joel stood up and held out his arms. “Find joy. Find happiness. Find love again,” he said. He looked over Eric’s shoulder at Steven, seeing his own love for Eric in the man’s eyes. “I think it’s closer than you realize.”

EPILOGUE

One year later – Portland

Eric

Having his morning coffee, while looking out the kitchen window and seeing the view of the marina was so different from the garden Joel had tended. Eric had thought that selling their house would be difficult, but it had brought him a sense of peace. Almost like Joel approved.

“You know, it’s not too late to hop a plane and be there for the opening of the exhibit,” Steven said as he came up behind Eric and wrapped his arms around Eric’s waist.

Eric had been working with Gray Baptiste on a new exhibit for the museum based on Tamara’s journals. He had reached out to the Rollins College and arranged for the journals to be on permanent loan to the museum. While they had an Anthropology program, when Eric had talked with the department chair, she had understood and agreed with Eric’s assessment that the details and facts in the journals needed to be shared with the larger community. It had helped that he’d agreed to come and be a guest lecturer for the Fall semester after the opening. Being an authority in Cultural Anthropology came in handy, sometimes.

“Nope. I’m good to let Gray and Tamara handle that.” Eric wasn’t sure if he’d want to go to New Orleans again. It felt like it would be almost disrespectful to visit there.

“Joel wouldn’t want—”

“It’s not Joel. I think the loas would prefer I keep my distance.” Eric shrugged. I don’t know why.”

“You don’t regret us?” Steven asked. Eric could feel the tension in Steven’s body against his back.

“Absolutely not. Our relationship has centered me. You’ve given me so much over the past two years, it’s a wonder you’re still around for me. I’ve been a needy bitch,” Eric tried to joke. He really did feel as if their relationship had been one sided.

Eric felt more than heard Steven’s snort. “Needy bitch? Please? If anyone’s the needy one, it’s me. I’m still having trouble believing this is all real. That you’re finally mine.”

“My dirty socks on the bedroom floor haven’t proved that to you?” Eric teased. Leaving his socks on the floor was a habit that he’d never been able to break. That and forgetting where he left his coffee cup every morning.

“I’ll take your socks and everything else of yours that you’ll give me,” Steven answered. “I think the spirits blessed us.”

GLOSSARY

Hommes stupides – Stupid men

Ils n’apprennent jamais – They never learn

Bien – fine

Que Dieu vous bénisse et vous garde – God bless you and keep you

Merci pour votre aide – Thank you for your assistance

Aveugle à l’amour – blind to love

S’il vous plait – If you please

Sucre – Sugar

Loa – guardian

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kris Jacen grew up just north of Boston, Massachusetts, and currently lives in western New York.

She has been editing over fifteen years. Working with all the amazing authors she’s had the privilege to work with has allowed her to both hone her editorial skills and indulge her inner fangirl. She also acts as editor, mentor and sounding-board for newcomers which lets her “pay-it-forward” and help authors realize their dreams.

You can find out more about Kris on the internet:

Website: www.krisjacen.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kris.jacen

Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1027160227461354/

Amazon page smarturl.it/KrisJacen

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kris-jacen

TRADEMARKS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

SE7EN: New Line Cinema

Guardians of the Galaxy: Marvel Studios

Voodoo Museum: New Orleans Historic Voodoo Museum

Hilton: Hilton

Reed College: Reed College

Rollins College: Rollins College

Gallier House: Hermann-Grima & Gallier House