Read Cajun Magic 01 - Voodoo on the Bayou for Free Online Page B

as if your priorities have changed. If you dôn do as I say, you won’t have to worry ‘bout going to work no mo’.”
    “I could sue you.” He cringed as he said the words.
    Madame LeBieu snorted. “Go ahead. No judge will take you seriously if you can’t even show up in court.” She laughed and turned to reenter her ramshackle clapboard house. “Sue me, ha!” Her chuckles could be heard even as the screen door slammed behind her.
    “I’m doomed,” he moaned. He glanced at his watch. The sun would rise in less than an hour. He’d have to hurry to get back to the marina before the transformation.
    The screen pushed open again and Madame LeBieu stood with one chubby finger raised. “One other ting. The magic dôn work if she know ‘bout your problem.”
    On the ride back through the swamps, he thought through his options. Some options. He could do as Madame LeBieu said or stay a frog the rest of his life.
    From where he sat, the vote was unanimous. He had to find a woman and make her fall in love with him in less than two weeks. Simple, right?

Chapter Four
    Whoever said it was quiet in the country obviously hadn’t spent time in the bayou. The raucous sounds of crickets, cicadas, and frogs were every bit as loud as the traffic outside Elaine’s cosy house in the suburbs of New Orleans.
    In a strange place with all new and sometimes frightening sounds and smells, Elaine spent a restless night tossing and turning. When she’d managed to sleep in short spurts, her dreams had run the gamut from scenes of Brian and the secretary to dark and sinister swamps filled with eerie croaking frogs. A steady thrumming laced each dream, as if drums beat to the rhythm of her heart.
    When the pre-dawn grayness heralded the sun’s rising, she slipped out of bed and padded into the tiny kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Since she wasn’t sleeping, she might as well get started.
    She’d unpacked only the necessities the night before, one of which was the coffee maker. While the machine heated the water, she returned to the bedroom to change into khaki slacks and a ribbed-knit T-shirt. She was tugging a brush through her tangled hair when she heard a knock at the front door.
    With a quick glance in the mirror, she sighed. What was the use anyway, in this humidity? Her hair bushed around her in wild, wavy abandon. In a few swift motions, she swept the tresses back into a wide-toothed clip and raced for the door.
    She turned the deadbolt and swung the door wide.
    “Mornin’, neighbor.” A diminutive, older woman with hair the color of warm honey sailed into the room, a cloth-covered basket dangling from her arm.
    Elaine stepped back, unsure how to react to someone barging into her home, temporary though it was.
    “I smelled coffee a-brewin’ and figured you were finally awake. Mind if I join you? I brought breakfast.” The woman didn’t seem to care that Elaine hadn’t responded to her first words. She plunked the basket on the table and bustled through the kitchen as though she knew her way around.
    The aroma of hot muffins wafted through the air, reminding Elaine she hadn’t eaten. “Excuse me, should I know you?”
    “Oh, bless my soul.” The other woman held out to her hand. “I’m Mozelle Reneau. I live right next door to you. I just finished bakin’ a batch of the best blueberry muffins you’ll taste in the entire parish, if I say so myself, and I thought, ‘Mozelle, it wouldn’t be neighborly of you to keep them all to yourself, now would it?’ So I marched myself right on over here to see if my new neighbor would be interested in sharin’ a muffin and a chat with a stranger, although I hope we’re not strangers for long.”
    How could any one person talk so long, and so fast, without taking a breath?
    “And you are?” Ms. Reneau waited as if poised to pounce.
    “Elaine,” she gasped. She held out her hand and said more calmly, “Elaine Smith.”
    “And where might you be from, Ms.