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her black-gloved hand. “Take it,” she whispered. Her voice was dark and smooth, the tone like nothing he’d ever heard. And for the first time, he began to doubt his lack of belief.
    Truth be told, Elise gave David’s life meaning and made his world livable again. And almost losing her . . . that changed a person’s perspective. It made him question the role he’d been okay with before her abduction.
    He didn’t believe in spells and mojos. He didn’t believe you could make someone love you. But even though he didn’t believe even a little bit, he humored Strata Luna and took the bag, fingering the smooth velvet, inhaling the scent.
    She actually bestowed a smile on him.
    God, she was beautiful. Some people said her beauty was the reason for the veil. Without it, men fainted in the street as she walked by. David felt a little woozy himself right now.
    “Sleep with it under your pillow,” she told him. “Every night. And before another full moon, Elise Sandburg will love you with the love of a thousand poets.”
    Strata Luna left in a swirl of black.
    Love. Right. David closed the door after her. He didn’t believe, but he’d keep the mojo anyway. He liked the way it smelled.
     
     

C HAPTER 7
    E lise spent the bulk of her first full day at the plantation settling in and roaming the house and grounds—as much as she could with a cast and crutches. By evening she realized she’d done a little too much roaming, and pain drove her to bed early. She shook a full dose of medication into her palm and popped the pills. She’d reached the point where total oblivion was welcome, but she’d settle for anything that cut the pain in half. Just cut it in half.
    Once the pills were swallowed, Elise propped her leg and cast over a plumped pillow and lay there in a sweat, staring at a crack in the wall while doing the breathing exercises she’d learned in Lamaze classes. Doctors had said her ankle wasn’t broken, but the tendons and muscles had been so worked over that healing could take a long time. But it wasn’t just her ankle that hurt. It was bruised ribs, a shoulder that had been dislocated for most of her captivity, and a multitude of cuts and stab wounds, none of which had been deep, but all meant to inflict pain and disfigure her. And her back . . . God, the mess he’d made of her back . . . She hadn’t been able to do more than glance at it in the bathroom mirror. Maybe someday . . . or maybe never.
    The phone next to her bed rang and she answered. David. He asked how she was. He asked if she was ready to leave the plantation. Elise told him no in a voice she hoped wasn’t edged with pain. Had she overcorrected? Had that sounded too perky?
    “I thought about coming out there tonight, but I had to work late,” he told her. “Then I had a missing person’s case dumped in my lap. They wanted a homicide specialist’s opinion.”
    It was weird to think of him working cases without her. She didn’t like it. Almost like hearing he was seeing someone else. What an odd thought, but that’s kind of how it was with them. Those late-night visits to alleys where they bonded over dead bodies. But even if she’d been in Savannah, she wouldn’t have been able to be involved in any cases. Doctor’s orders. Not just the doctor who’d treated her in the hospital, but the psychiatrist assigned by the department had ordered her off the force for six weeks.
    Elise’s immediate reaction had been concern about boredom. She didn’t know what to do with herself when she wasn’t working. “Savannah will be the murder capital of the world by the time I get back,” Elise had told Dr. Kicklighter. But it seemed things were going along fine without her. Elise didn’t like that.
    She told David about last night and how she’d mistaken Melinda for Anastasia. “She looked and sounded just like her mother.” The pills were kicking in. Elise felt her body begin to relax.
    “How about I come and get you