Spirit Beast's Vengeance

The pain hit me so hard it felt like my soul was being ripped out.

I was Jocelyn Fuller, wife of Ethan Blakely, living a quiet life rooted in Southern tradition, bound by an ancient pact to guard his family' s fortune through my sacred albino alligator.

Then, terror struck. My spirit beast, my very essence, was brutally killed – skinned, burned, leaving me collapsed and vomiting blood, feeling every agonizing second of its death through our shared bond.

My husband, Ethan, returned, not with remorse, but with rage, fueled by his "devout Christian" mistress, Maria, and her televangelist, Brother Rufus. He accused me, the woman who gave him everything, of barrenness and jealousy, publicly shaming me, ordering me whipped for a truth only I knew.

How could the man I loved, the man I saved from death three years ago using my very life force, believe such monstrous lies? How could he betray me so utterly, sacrificing the very source of his family's power and my own soulmate for a manipulative woman and her supposed "miracle child"?

As the whip descended, each lash shattering my skin, the ancient seal holding back my true power fractured, transforming passive pain into an earth-shattering roar of awakening.

The pain hit me so hard it felt like my soul was being ripped out of my body.

I was in the kitchen, making sweet tea, when I collapsed. A scream tore from my throat, but no sound came out. My vision went black, and I could feel something hot and wet pouring from my mouth, staining the polished cypress floors of the Blakely estate.

It was my bête spirituelle. My sacred albino alligator. He was dying.

I didn' t need to see it to know. Our spirits were tied together. I felt every moment of his terror. The metal trap snapping shut on his leg, the rough hands dragging him from the water, the sharp blade slicing through his pure white hide.

Then came the fire. The smell of gasoline and burning flesh filled my senses, even though I was miles away. His final, silent scream echoed in my spirit, a wave of agony that made me vomit blood all over again.

With his death, the ancient seal that held my true power, my identity as a Loa, began to crack.

I was Jocelyn Fuller, wife of Ethan Blakely, heir to a Southern petrochemical dynasty. That was the lie I lived. The truth was, I was a guardian spirit, bound by a pact made centuries ago to protect his family. My power was sealed inside that alligator, a living sacrifice to ensure their fortune.

And my husband had just killed him.

"Jocelyn! My God, what happened?"

My housekeeper, Wendy, rushed to my side. Her hands were shaking as she tried to help me up. She was a local woman, one of the few who still respected the old ways, the Voodoo traditions the Blakelys had built their empire on top of.

"He's gone, Wendy," I whispered, my voice raw. "Ethan killed him."

Wendy's face went pale. She knew about the alligator. She didn't know what I was, but she knew the creature was sacred. She knew it was the source of the family's luck.

"No," she breathed, her eyes wide with fear. "He wouldn't. Why?"

"For her," I choked out, another wave of nausea rolling through me. "For Maria."

Maria Chavez. The woman I had rescued from a dangerous life in New Orleans, the woman I had brought into my home. The woman who was now my husband' s mistress, pretending to be a devout Christian with a special connection to God.

She and her pet televangelist, Brother Rufus, had convinced Ethan that my alligator' s "dark energy" was a threat to the "holy" child she was supposedly carrying.

The pact was broken. The protection was gone.

My body felt like it was breaking apart, but underneath the pain, I could feel something else. A deep, ancient power stirring from a long sleep. The cracks in my seal were widening.

The fortune of the House of Blakely was about to be severed.

I was still on the floor, my body too weak to move, when Old Man Blakely' s nurse wheeled him into the kitchen. He was the family patriarch, Ethan' s grandfather, and the only living soul who knew the truth about me.

His face, usually a mask of frail indifference, was twisted in horror. He saw the blood on the floor, the vacant look in my eyes. He knew what it meant.

"He did it," the old man rasped, his voice thin and papery. "The fool. I warned him."

His nurse pushed his wheelchair closer. He reached out a trembling hand, his eyes pleading.

"Forgive him, Jocelyn. Please. He doesn't know what he's done. The family..."

I just stared at him. Forgiveness? My spirit beast, my other half, had been skinned and burned. The bond that had held me in this mortal form for a century was shattered.

"The pact is broken, Mr. Blakely," I said, my voice cold and empty. "The Blakelys are on their own now."

He flinched as if I' d slapped him. "No... you can' t. The wells... the company... everything will be lost."

"That is the price," I said.

Just then, the back door slammed open. Ethan stood there, his expensive shirt stained with mud and something darker. He looked from his grandfather to me on the floor, and his handsome face contorted with rage.

"What did you say to him?" he snarled, striding over to me. "What lies have you been telling? He tried to throw Maria out! A pregnant woman!"

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and hauled me to my feet. The sudden movement sent a jolt of agony through me, and my legs buckled.

"You're just jealous," he spat, his face inches from mine. "Jealous of Maria, jealous of our baby. You couldn't give me a child, so now you want to poison everyone against her."

I laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Maria? The pious saint? The woman who swore to my face that you and she were 'just friends'?"

"She is a good woman!" he roared, shaking me. "Better than a barren, cold-hearted witch like you!"

I looked past him, at the dark swamp beyond the manicured lawn. I could feel the last echoes of my alligator's life fading away. The power inside me churned, a hurricane waiting to be unleashed. I was still too weak to control it, but it was there, a promise of what was to come.

He saw the look in my eyes and shoved me away. I stumbled backward, crashing into the kitchen table.

"You think you're so high and mighty," he sneered. "Living in my house, spending my money. You are nothing without me."

The irony was so thick I could have choked on it. He had no idea that he was nothing without me.