Black Magic Man Read online

  Black Magic Man

  Ju Ephraime

  Envision School Publishing.com

  Connecticut, 2014

  Copyright © 2014 Ju. Ephraime

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 0-9895615-5-0/13: 9780989561556

  LCCN: 2013954314

  www.juliaeantoine.com

  ****

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ENVISION Business & Computer School Publishing, an Imprint of ENVISION Business & Computer School, LLC 23 Kimberly Avenue West Haven, CT 06516

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address inquiries to, ENVISION, 23 Kimberly Avenue, West Haven, CT 06516.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publishers, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

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  http://www.envisionschoolpublishing.com

  INTRODUCTION

  Jean Louis had years ago withdrawn from society, ten years to be exact, and during those years, he had been living as a recluse. He used to be a master sorcerer, but now he lived near the graveyard in the village of La Souf, on the island of St. Lucia in the Caribbean. Prior to the incident that had reduced him to a reclusive life, his home was wherever his fancy took him. He roamed the sky and the earth, but ten years ago, that had all ended.

  A Master Magician had recruited him at the young age of twenty. He had been bored to death with limiting himself to one woman at a time; as a Black Magic Man, the world was his oyster, and the excitement of being a Black Magic Man appealed to him. It gave him free access to any woman who took his fancy.

  He’d loved it when he was able to practice the Black Arts. During those times, he was able to use his magic for evil against others, although he’d primarily used his magic for sexual prowess.

  This sinister sorcery, often associated with Voodoo, was mainly used in the Caribbean and other untamed regions of the world. Born in the jungles of the Caribbean Isles, Black Magic had spread all across the untamed regions of the world. Practitioners of this sinister sorcery tended to do harm to others or make them do their bidding. Cunning men had learned how to harness the power of dark magic, but this magic was a double-edged sword and could bring the downfall of the very ones who sought to use it.

  Within months of becoming a Black Magic Man, he’d made his first “hit”, and he had never looked back. He had left his parents’ home and moved into the house he presently occupied. He had never hankered for his old life until the incident ten years before that had stripped him of his powers. His was a lonely life. Once upon a time, his life had revolved around the phases of the moon and darkness of the night. Now he watched his life slip away, one day at a time.

  Occasionally, out of necessity, he was forced to venture into town to pick up supplies. On one of his rare trips into town, he was standing at the bus stop when he saw what, to him, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. His eyes kept going back to her as if drawn by some invisible force. He had long ago given up lusting after women. At one time, he wouldn’t have hesitated to follow and claim her, but he was getting tired and too old for the game. At fifty-five, he was long past his prime. But something about this woman sparked his interest. His body responded to her in a way it had stopped doing for more years than he cared to remember.

  He could not stop staring at the woman. Something about her seemed familiar to him. He knew he’d never seen her before, yet there was a nagging at the back of his mind that he knew her, but where? He knew he was openly staring, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. A short while later, a tall, well-built man came out of a building and walked up to her. It appeared she had been waiting for him because he took her hand in his, and they began walking away.

  Against his will, as if drawn by some invisible force, Jean Louis began following after them. He wanted to memorize everything about her—she was beautiful, but it was not her beauty that attracted him; he’d had many a beautiful woman in his day, some more so. His eyes roamed over her hungrily. It was then he noticed the wedding ring on her finger. Hell, he thought, she’s married. Although that gave him pause, it was not enough to deter him. If anything, he became more obsessed with the beautiful woman. Whether she was married or not, he had to have her. It was as if he’d been waiting for her all his life. He had to have her, hang the consequences.

  But wait, he did not have the powers he once had, or did he? He’d not tested his powers since that fateful night ten years ago. He would put them to the test, in seven days in the phase of the new moon or waning moon, when the moon was increasing in size and visibility. This was the phase that corresponded with his magic. During this phase, his powers used to be magnified ten-fold. It was especially potent for the purpose of increasing his stamina. This year would be even more so because the new moon would be in its solstice.

  When the Moon was new, the Luminaries… the Sun and Moon … were aligned in the same Zodiac sign. That made it a charged time with concentrated energies. A New Moon was a symbolic point of attention and a symbolic portal for new beginnings.

  He was a Black Magic Man, and his life was ruled by the moon. He got his strength from it—to create, develop, cultivate, and make manifest. The new moon would allow him to perform the ancient ritual where he’d shed his skin, and it would render him invisible to go about his nefarious pursuits. Something he’d not done in ten years.

  Jean Louis was not a patient man, but he was forced to wait before he made any attempt on the woman. He had to be certain it would work, but he had to be patient.

  His laughter could be heard on the night air as he found the woman’s house. He could not enter now, but no one could stop him from watching her, getting his fill of her.

  For two nights, he stood in the dark watching her home and would only leave before the first rays of the dawn spread across the horizon. He would have her. She would be his exclusively, as it was meant to be… Patience, patience!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Patient, blah, he would have none of it. Had it not been for his fear of failing, he would have tried to enter her home, but he did not want to anger his Master, so he waited. But as he waited, his obsession seemed to get more and more intense. He had taken to going into the town several times a day in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her. The more he saw of her, the more convinced he was that he knew her. Everything about her, with the exception of the color of her hair, seemed familiar to him. If he closed his eyes, he could feel himself inside her as he brought them both to an explosive orgasm.

  He was standing there watching her when he found himself lying on a bed of hay, looking up at the night sky. It was such a bright night he could clearly see the face of the woman lying next to him. He reached over and gave her a passionate kiss. She laughed as she remind
ed him they had just made love and she was too tired to go at it again.

  “I’m going to sleep now, John. Behave yourself.”

  “You’ll let me go to sleep in this state, Imogene?” he said, taking her hand and placing it on his erect penis.

  “You’re always in that state, anyway,” she told him. “What’s one more night?”

  “Don’t be cruel, my love. Let me have you. You won’t have to do anything. I’ll do all the work.”

  “Since when?” she asked him, laughing.

  “Since now,” he said, rolling her beneath him.

  She opened her legs to him, smiling as he positioned himself over her, his erect penis unerringly finding her entrance. Hovering over her, he used it to tease her, allowing only the tip to penetrate her and withdrawing when she arched her back to take in more of him. He kept this up for a while until he heard her beginning to whimper. This was his signal to bring it home, and he did. With one mighty thrust of his pelvis, he sheathed himself to the hilt, bringing them both to orgasm.

  It never ceased to amaze him how in tune she was with her body. He loved her with every breath in his body. It did not surprise him that he was still just as hard as if he hadn’t just had an orgasm. She was like a drug in his blood. He walked away from her to relieve himself, and the next thing he heard was a scream renting the air as the arrow of his enemy found its mark in his woman’s body. Rushing back to their bed of hay, he cradled his love in his arms as she drew her last breath. He couldn’t pursue the perpetrator. He was not going to leave his wife’s body to marauding animals, but he vowed to her he would avenge her to the death.

  The sensation of being jolted from some other place came over him. He was used to traveling through the sky, but this had been different. It was a different world, a different time, but there was no mistaking the woman who was sharing his space. The vision had been raw and real. He didn’t understand the strong emotion tugging at him, sweet, piercing, and painful. All those emotions were somehow connected to the woman he was even now watching.

  There must be some strong magic associated with this woman. How else could he be with her in a strange place he’d never been before? Something was not quite as it seemed here. Maybe she was under the protection of some obeah witch. Jean Louis knew he had to be careful in his pursuit of the woman because his efforts could very easily be derailed by a skilled obeah witch.

  He knew much, as his magic was strong, but the obeah practiced on the island was equally strong, and it could defeat him… even kill him. This he knew first-hand because one had come close to destroying him ten years ago. The obeah witch and voodoo sorceress were powerful, and if he were to go after one of them or their familiars, they would have no qualm in killing him. As a Black Magic Man, he did not believe in violence. He took his pleasures, but he never did irreparable harm to his victims. The same couldn’t be said of the witches.

  The authorities had tried to rid the islands of the practice of obeah, but they had been unsuccessful because it was too firmly embedded in the culture. Similar to the Black Arts, Obeah had been on the islands from the time of slavery, brought there by his ancestors from West Africa, specifically those of the Igbo origins. He used to travel between the islands, and on every occasion, he had stumbled upon his counterparts. It was thriving as far away as Suriname and Jamaica, or as close to home as, Barbados and Grenada. Knowing this, he would tread cautiously until he found out the reason for his fascination with this woman. For all he knew it could be a trap, but what was life without taking risks?

  CHAPTER TWO

  A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts as she stood in the shade of the palm tree waiting for her husband. The creole accent was thick and guttural, unfamiliar falling on Lange’s ears. Turning with a quick, tentative smile, Lange watched as the stranger stepped out of the shadows and moved farther into her space.

  She and her husband, Rupert, lived in a sub-division in a residential community on the outskirts of the village of La Souf. She thought she knew everyone in the small, secluded community. It was true they had been living there for only a little over a year, but being at home all day while her husband worked, she had visited and socialized with just about every one of the two hundred residents who called the community home, which was why she’d thought it was someone she knew. Although, in retrospect, she would have remembered that voice had she heard it before. Something about it disturbed her.

  This man had golden bronze skin, and his dark hair, sun-streaked and long, almost to his shoulders, had lighter shades of brown. He wore it pulled away from his face and held in place with a tie. As she looked closely at him, she was struck by the air of cruelty that seemed to surround him, especially his dark eyes. They were fringed by extremely long lashes, making them appear even darker, and the most incredible thing about them was the fact that they were like two dark reflective pools. Nothing marred the surface, not a ripple—lifeless. They said the eyes were the mirror to the soul. If that were the case, there was no soul behind those eyes—they were dead.

  There was something predatory about him that gave her the creeps. She felt as if she was in the presence of a dangerous animal. She was not certain why she felt that way, but the impression was there in the way he held himself, loose, yet alert, as if ready to lunge at her any minute. A shiver went down her spine when he looked directly at her, as he was doing now. She did not know who he was, but she wanted him gone.

  Not liking the way the stranger made her feel, she hid her feelings and answered him briskly. “I’m certainly not waiting for you. Why are you here?”

  Experience had taught her the only sure way to be hurt was to show her fear, and she had no intention of showing this man just how much he affected her. So she put on a brave attitude and stood her ground, daring him to come closer.

  He smiled at her, his white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun. “I felt like standing here. Do you have a problem with me standing here?”

  “I’ll thank you to find somewhere else to stand. I’m here waiting for someone.”

  “Who are you waiting for?” He slid his hands into his pockets, walking around her.

  “Go away, sir. Find somewhere else to stand.”

  “I want to stand here, so either you agree to share the space or you leave because I have no intention of leaving. I like it here just fine.”

  Lange was seeing red. “Go away!”

  “You can’t order me about. The last time I checked, this property was owned by the city. So, unless you can prove otherwise, I stay put.”

  Lange looked up into his face, and she felt a chill come over her. A shadow fell across him, obscuring part of his face, bringing his unusual cold eyes into sharp relief.

  She did not want Rupert to arrive and find her standing so close to him, so as much as she would have liked to have it out with him, she had to concede defeat and move away from the welcoming shade and seek shelter from the blistering sun elsewhere.

  She turned her back on him and walked to the end of the walkway to another tree that was a couple feet farther down the walk.

  ****

  Jean admitted he liked watching her walk away. The sway of her hips was seduction itself. He retreated to the darker shadows; he was much more comfortable in the shadows. They also served as a protection, preventing her from looking directly into his eyes. He wanted her to talk with him, as she had done in the vision he’d had of them conversing. She appeared to loathe him, but he just couldn’t walk away. So he stayed in the shadows watching her until the man she had been waiting on showed up. A man he believed was her husband. This was the same man he’d seen her with the previous evening.

  The man greeted her with a passionate kiss. This confirmed his suspicion that it was her husband. She placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and they began walking toward him. Jean moved farther into the shadow, but he never took his eyes off her. So many emotions were going through him, but the most powerful was rage. Rage threatened to bring him to his knees as he
watched the man slowing down every couple of steps to give the woman a kiss on the mouth.

  He knew he had no business resenting her husband for kissing her, for touching her even. She did not belong to him. But from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he had laid claim to her as his. Although she did not know it yet, she belonged to him.

  Every day he woke feeling more alive than the day before. It had been a while since he’d felt so good. After losing his ability to pursue his nightly craft, he’d lost all interest in life. He’d been marking time, waiting patiently for death to claim him, but since setting eyes on the woman, whose name he still did not know, he had been in a state of rejuvenation, feeling things he had not felt in years. Even before the incident ten years ago, before he’d made the pact with his Master, he hardly felt anything very deeply. He’d never been in love, never had a wife or children. His had been a lonely life. He could barely remember his parents. He had been away from them for more than half his fifty-five years on this earth.

  His life had been ruled by a force outside his control. He did what was expected of him, carrying on one day after the next. He expected nothing and gave nothing in return. That was until now. Now he wanted, and wanted, and wanted. The only thing that kept him going was his plans at the solstice. He was waiting for the solstice because he did not want to ask his Master for any help. He wanted to fulfill the rites that would enable him to get to the woman without any assistance from his Master.

  But being an impatient man, and knowing he’d do well to wait, Jean Louis had been trying different things to get into her home. This was the second night of trying, and still he’d had no success. He wouldn’t give up. Five days seemed so far away; he would try again tomorrow. He was firmly convinced he’d only to get her to talk with him, and she would recognize him. Maybe then, she would invite him into her home. Should she invite him into her home, he wouldn’t need to wait for the solstice. However, the rules were clear and specific—no entry without the invite. With the invite, he would follow her in, but to go in to her home without that invite would require the ritual at the time of the solstice. But he knew his opportunity would come. Of this he had no doubt.