Thanks/AN
Thank you to AmberLady42, Ardhoniel Marvelite, bustedflipflop, couplest, DragonRose78, E, ferretlady, Kalternativa milamiracle10, rogueycherie, ROMYFan, TrOuBLeDObSeSSioN, Warrior-princess1980, and Guests! And I totally missed thanking y'all for getting Devil's Poison over 500 reviews, a milestone I never thought it would garner. Nor did I imagine I would have to split the Word file because the whole piece grew too large to properly edit in one. So thank y'all again. I may have started for me, but I'm finishing because of you!
Also, this chapter is "supersized" for having to wait. 💕💖
Chapter 34
As soon as they were inside the house, Remy prompted, "Tell me what yo' père's plannin', chérie."
"Upstairs. We're bein' watched." Rogue answered.
Remy quirked a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. Everyone who lived in the main house was family, yet she was implying that at least one person couldn't be trusted.
Rogue sighed, realizing he wasn't going to move until she elaborated. She suddenly wasn't feeling so good and just wanted to get this conversation over so she could lay down.
"Ah don't know who they are. Or even how many." She explained. "Only that there are informants here just like there are thieves in the assassins' midst."
When Remy didn't budge, she added, "It's a conversation we need ta have with yer père anyway. It's somethin' we need ta know as the new guildmasters."
She refused to use the Duumvirate title. It creeped her out and felt like something ominous was hanging over their heads.
Agreeing with her logic, he simply said, "D'accord," and led her toward the stairs.
Before they could take the first step, Mattie popped her head out of the dining room and said, "There y' chillens are. Supper'll be on de table in five, so y' best go on and wash up now. Don't care if y' deux are de leaders of de Guild. I still 'spect y' in yo' seats on time."
"Yes, ma'am," Rogue answered while Remy added, "Oui, Tante."
She stared them down for a second before nodding and turning back to the meal at hand.
"C'mon, petite. Y' can tell de quick version now so we can make it back down in time." Remy gently took her elbow and guided her up the stairs.
As they reached the top of the first landing, the sick feeling from downstairs intensified. Rogue suddenly felt too cold from the inside out. A quick hand against her cheek and neck indicated her skin was burning up.
"Y' okay, chère?" Remy asked, noticing her flushed face.
"Yeah." Rogue answered. "Yeah, Ah just feel a li'l cold."
With the color rising in her cheeks, he gave her an odd look as they continued up the second flight. She was about to wave him off when a dizzy spell had her seeing double. It caused her to stumble, but Remy swiftly caught her from face planting.
Steadying her wobbling form, he said, "Anna, I don't think yo' okay."
"Ah'm fine. Really." Her swimming vision made her incredibly nauseous. "Ah just need…ta lay…"
She never finished the sentence as her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in his arms.
Remy held her close, shaking her just a little to wake her up. "Anna? Anna!"
When she didn't respond, he scooped her up and ran up the remaining steps before reaching their door. Juggling her limp form, Remy entered the security protocols and rushed through the suite to the bed. As he laid her down, Rogue's eyelids fluttered open.
"There y' are, chérie. Y' scared me fo' a second." He brushed her white bangs away from her sweaty face.
"Sorry, sug." She gave him a weak smile. "Ah think Ah have the flu or somethin'. Just need ta rest."
Remy continued to run his fingers through her hair in a soothing gesture as he assessed her present state. Other than the flu like symptoms, she seemed okay. And they had been burning the candle at both ends with their long Guild days and longer newlywed nights. Maybe she really did catch the virus when they were out and about taking care of business.
Somewhat satisfied that she was at least stable, Remy leaned down and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead as he whispered, "D'accord."
At least one of them had to show up for dinner or else they'd both get their hides tanned, and that was something Rogue did not need right now.
"I'll just go down fo' supper and then I'll be back right after." He promised.
She nodded, her eyes already closing as her mind slipped from consciousness.
With another kiss, Remy squeezed her hand and reluctantly left her to rest as he made his way downstairs. Rounding the corner into the dining room, he saw Mattie bustling in the last dish for the meal.
"Where's Rogue?" She asked, not deigning to look at her recalcitrant ward.
"Upstairs. She felt sick." Remy answered, thinking nothing of it.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, time seemed to crawl. Mattie whispered, "Oh no!" as the tureen of soup slipped from her hands. The sight alone was shocking to the family, especially considering that not a crumb had ever been dropped on her silk Isfahan rug. The bowl slowly tumbled in a freefall before hitting the floor and shattering into a million pieces. The hot liquid sprayed in a spectacular eruption ready to burn anyone in its path, but Mattie had already dashed to the door and was running upstairs.
That's when time suddenly doubled. Quick as lightning, Remy turned and followed Mattie up the two flights. The rest of the family was hot on his heels with Jean-Luc in the lead followed by Mercy and then Henri.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est, Tante? What's wrong?" Remy begged, but the woman just continued on her mad dash to Rogue.
Reaching his suite, he quickly bypassed the security and Mattie burst into the rooms. She stormed over to the bed like a charging rhino, desperately praying her fear wouldn't be confirmed. However as soon as she saw Rogue's prone body, she knew the worst had happened.
"Oh, chile!" Mattie soothed, her hands hovering over the comatose woman. "Oh, no."
Again, Remy questioned, "What is it, Tante?" but she ignored him.
Reaching into a hidden pocket, she pulled out the equivalent of a traiteur's emergency kit. She lit a small candle and placed it on the nightstand before sprinkling juniper leaves and a sweetgrass braid over the tiny flame. A sweet lemony aroma filled the suddenly stale air. Next, she laid a cordon in a circle over Rogue's heart.
"I need boilin' water." Mattie commanded to no one in particular. Mercy quickly ran back to the suite's kitchenette.
Before Remy could ask a third time what was happening, Mattie made the sign of the cross as her hands hovered over Rogue's body. The words of a common French prayer whispered from her lips, but soon turned unintelligible as they weaved between Cajun, Creole, and forgotten native tongues.
"Here y' are, Tante." Mercy came back with the boiling water and set it on the night stand next to the candle.
When Mattie finished the prayers, she took a small piece of thin muslin from her kit and dipped it in the hot liquid. Placing it across Rogue's forehead, eyes, and nose, she let it sit for a moment before adding a thick poultice of elderberry buds, bottle gourd, and lizard's tail. She then folded the fabric up into a compress.
Finally, Mattie dropped dried lemon balm leaves, goatweed, and manglier stems into the boiling water. Using her finger, she stirred the ingredients until the brew turned an aromatic yellow. Even though the liquid was scalding hot, her skin wasn't even pinked. A drop of honey, a squeeze of lemon, some ginger shavings, and a splash of bourbon finished out the tincture.
Without taking her eyes off Rogue, Mattie instructed, "Remy, chile, hold up her head so she can drink dis."
As Remy scrambled onto his side of the bed, Mattie handed Henri a cross made of red bay leaves. "Go'n hang this over de bedroom door."
"Oui, Tante." He moved to oblige her.
By the time she'd passed the symbol to his brother, Remy had cradled Rogue in his crossed legs. His hands gently supported the back of her head. On Mattie's nod, he tilted her neck just a little more so the traiteur could pour the healing liquid down his wife's throat. Once half the tincture was gone, she indicated that Remy could rest Rogue back against the pillows.
"And now we wait." Mattie concluded.
Having remained silent through the ritual he had seen countless times before, Jean-Luc quietly asked, "What happened, Mattie?"
She spoke only one word, the sound slithering out like a snake. "Coundja."
"Non!" Mercy gasped and buried her head against Henri's shoulder as tears stung her eyes.
Jean-Luc's brow furrowed, digesting the information. Coupled with the little knife stunt at the Invalidation, he knew there were bigger forces at play. And his newest daughter-in-law's character that he thought he'd figured out? It didn't even touch the surface of these machinations.
"Can y' tell anythin' 'bout it?" He questioned, trying to solve the latest puzzle.
"Non. Only that de conjurer is mighty pow'rful in de dark arts." Mattie answered. She looked down at Rogue with sorrow. "I can try t' reverse it, mais she has t' want t' break free. There's only so much I can do fo' de chile now."
Through the entire exchange, Remy had remained motionless on the bed where he'd helped Rogue. His focus had been solely on her. A little voice in the back of his mind whispered he couldn't lose her now. Not when he finally realized he… No. He wouldn't even think the words. She should hear them first. It was Mattie's assessment that finally snapped him out of the melancholy thoughts.
"What do y' mean, 'want'?" Remy slowly, heatedly asked. "Why wouldn't Rogue fight her way back?"
"Dis magic, it sucks y' in. Torments y' somethin' fierce. Then seduces y' t' give up, give in, just t' ease de pain. Very few come back and de ones who do, well, they never quite de same again." Mattie shook her head, sympathy going out to her precious foster boy who had grown into the strong young man before her.
But Remy refused to listen. "Rogue's not like that. She's been through too much t' give up now."
"I pray so, chile. I pray so." Mattie answered, opening herself up as a channel for the Divine. "Fo' now, everyone needs t' get some rest."
One by one, the group filed out of the suite. Finally alone, Remy slid down the bed to lay on his side next to Rogue. He gently brushed the hair away from her face before tucking the top comforter around her body.
"Come back t' me, mamour." He whispered as he placed a kiss on her cheek and settled in to keep watch over her through the night.
(X)-(X)-(X)
Hellfire burned around her. Nausea more intense than any she'd experienced in her entire life left her doubling over in pain. All she wanted to do was lay down and curl into a ball, but the sickly green and yellow-orange flames dancing around her feet kept her upright. Rogue slowly, painstakingly turned in a circle. She tried to figure out where she was, how to get out of there, but there was nothing except the endless fire in sight. Sweat beaded on her brow and her head pounded out a painful rhythm that seemed to sync with the licking flames. She was freezing from the inside out, her skin burning hot.
Rogue was barely aware of who she was, or rather who she had been anyway. Try as she might, she couldn't bring to mind any family or friends. No home or life before now. In fact, those words were foreign, shapeless leftovers floating in her brain. It had always just been her and this place. There was a vague memory of attending Mass and a lesson on Purgatory, but the teachings had said it was only an inward cleansing process and not a physical place covered in flames. Did her surroundings mean she'd been judged and sent to Hell instead?
Another wave of nausea had her doubling over, a dry heave convulsing her stomach. The thought that all she wanted to do was die ran through her head, but she quickly stamped it down. If she wasn't dead already and had ended up in this place, did that mean she was destined for someplace worse?
As the queasiness subsided, Rogue placed her hands on her knees to give herself an extra push to stand. Before she could reach her full height, a deep, nasally laughter rumbled behind her. Her illness temporarily forgotten, she slowly turned to find a tall, dark skinned man towering over her. The sea of flames had been replaced by a crossroads, the fires burning in the far distance.
Focusing on the man's hands and face, she noticed they were painted white like a skeleton. A smoldering cigar dangled from his lips and a glass of rum sloshed in one hand. The other hand held a fancy walking cane. His black top hat and silk tailcoat was a formal contrast to his bare chest and feet. Dark glasses framed his face, though the right lens was missing and his blood red eye stared right through her.
"Why, ain't y' just de prettiest young t'ing t' pass through here in an age." He salaciously grinned at her.
"Who are ya?" Rogue asked, proud that her voice didn't shake.
His smirk grew darker as he trailed a finger down her cheek. "Now don't be tellin' me y' ain't never heard of ol' Baron Samedi."
Her answer was nonplussed as she frowned. "'Fraid not."
"Oh, chère, y' wound me." Baron moved his hand from her cheek down her neck and rested on her shoulder. "Never de less, y' will know me quite well befo' yo' stay here is over."
Quick as lighting, the cane whipped around her back to trap her body against his. The rum was suddenly gone, leaving his hand free to roam over the side of her breast before fully cupping the weight. With their close proximity, she felt the prominence of his excitement press into her lower belly.
"Ah don't know who ya think ya are," Rogue started, grasping at a fuzzy memory about her skin, "But ya best be gettin' yer hands offa me or else yer gonna find out who Ah am."
"And who might that be, petite?" Baron had yet to remove his hand. If anything, he wandered into lewder territory.
Instead of breaking away from the hold, she leaned into it. Baron played right into her hands as he leaned closer to her lips. "Ah'm Rogue."
And with those words, she pressed her mouth against his.
(X)-(X)-(X)
Remy scrubbed his scruffy jaw as he stepped out of the bathroom. It was only under threat of being dunked with soapy water by Mercy that he'd finally agreed to take a shower, though he didn't waste the time to shave. He'd been sitting watch by Rogue's side for the last four days, refusing food and hygiene beyond the necessary. Whomever brought the latest tincture or poultice for Rogue usually carried a small plate for him. It often sat untouched save for the barest of need to quiet the dull hunger.
How could he eat when his wife remained comatose to the world? A condition he was sure Marius was behind in some form or fashion. Regardless of what Rogue told him that day at the Unified Guild headquarters, he was suspicious that the knife incident had been meant for him. And when Rogue refused to do Marius' bidding, he punished her with what may well be a life sentence of unconsciousness.
Padding over to his closet, Remy quickly dressed. What was he going to do if Rogue never woke up? How could he carry on without her? Now that he'd realized how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, he couldn't imagine spending another day without her. Even guild business reverted to Jean-Luc because he didn't want to take the chance that she might briefly wake up when he wasn't there.
He tousled the towel through his hair before tossing the damp terrycloth into the hamper. As he resumed his seat, he was just about to take Rogue's hand in his when Mattie burst through suite the door.
"Don't touch her!" She shouted, barreling toward the bedroom.
The commotion was enough to stop Remy in his tracks. He turned to face Mattie, who was rushing over to him.
"And why can I not touch ma femme?" He questioned. He'd been touching her nonstop for the last four days.
Mattie just shook her head and tossed him a pair of gloves. "'Cause she ain't got no control over her powers right now."
What was Mattie talking about? Of course Rogue had control over her mutation. And as far as Mattie was concerned, she shouldn't have even known control was a question for Rogue. Mattie hadn't been one of the ones let in on Rogue's secret. Not that something like that ever surprised Remy, seeing as how Mattie had a sixth sense about things.
Remy shook his head, unable to reconcile the news. "She's just unconscious, Tante. She has t' actively think 'bout her mutation t' get it t' work, same as me."
Mattie came to stand next to Rogue, hovering her hands over the young woman's head the same way she had several nights earlier.
"Mais, she ain't never been in a fight fo' her soul before." She answered. "And that's exactly what she's doin'. She's starin' Death in de face and havin' t' prove she deserves t' live."
As Mattie proceeded with the latest round of prayers, Remy clenched his jaw. He knew greater forces were at play, but he didn't believe some mystical voodoo was the cause. And yet, he had faith in Mattie's gifts as a traiteur. Were the two really that different? To an outsider, it was all fairy tales and folklore. Boogie stories to tell misbehaving children at night. But if that was the case, why was Rogue still unresponsive?
The guild physician had already examined her and taken blood, only to find no trace of illness. A neurologist was even brought in to run additional tests, but all brain functions appeared normal. Her sudden coma seemed to have no medical cause. Jean-Luc tried to convince Remy to move her to the infirmary in the main compound, but Remy wouldn't have it. All the necessary medical equipment had been brought into their bedroom and specialists came to care for her physical needs. However for all their knowledge in science, it was Mattie's faith that had done more good for Rogue.
Reluctantly, Remy slipped on the gloves. His left hand held Rogue's while his right tangled in her hair and stroked her head. If Mattie was that worried about her skin, it was better to take the precaution. After all, he knew exactly what happened when Rogue wasn't able to let go.
(X)-(X)-(X)
"My, my, my, fille!" Baron taunted her. "Dat was some kiss. By de feel of t'ings, I might t'ink y' was tryin' t' pull one over on me, non?"
His grin was all pleasure as he appraised her pressed against his body. Rogue couldn't figure it out. She hardly remembered anything from before, but she was sure she had some kind of defense in her skin. Something should have knocked Baron out cold.
"Ah…Ah…don't know." She finally admitted. Her brows scrunched in confusion. "Ah can't remember."
Baron threw his head back and laughed, the chuckle rumbling from his belly up. "Oh, chère, I like you. I t'ink I'll keep y'. Been a moment since I had a mortal and I t'ink y'll do nicely t' roll 'round in my bed, non?"
Rogue distractedly answered, "No…" still trying to figure out what she had expected to happen and why it didn't.
"Mmm, oui." His lascivious smirk took on a dark, deadly intent. "Besides, y' ain't got no choice. In dis land, I am de law."
For the first time since she'd encountered Baron Samedi, fear struck through Rogue's heart. This was a dangerous man and a dangerous game. One misstep and she'd pay for it with her soul.
"Nor do Ah challenge yer authority." She placated him.
"Bon!" Believing her to be compliant, the darkness faded from around him and he leered at her once again.
With a snap of his fingers, her modest clothes disappeared. In their place were strips of black, white, and purple silk. The scraps of fabric hung around her neck to tantalizingly drape over her breasts and gather under her navel. The belt securing them around her waist served as an attachment point for a similar piece covering only her backside.
While all the pertinent parts were hidden from view, the sides of her breasts, her hips, and most of her rear was exposed for Baron's perusal. And peruse he did. He grazed the back of his knuckles down the side of her breast, causing a chill to run up her spine and goosebumps to rise on her flesh.
Licking his lips, his plans were easily clear on his face. "Much better. Come, amant. Time don't stop and I can only keep y' fo' so long."
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and started guiding her away from the crossroads. Still trying desperately to remember something, anything, Rogue allowed herself to be coaxed along. She very nearly missed his petname for her. Amant. Lover. Another inkling, another hazy thought, but something important this time. More important than her skin. If she gave in to Baron, she'd be causing great pain. That was simply something she couldn't, wouldn't, allow.
(X)-(X)-(X)
Jean-Luc silently stood in the doorway for a moment before crossing the room to stand at his son's side. Remy's dedication had been valiant, but the time had come to move on. Jean-Luc had watched his son refuse life over the last three weeks. He did not run the guild. There was no training. He rarely ate and bathed. And sleep only came at times like this when sheer exhaustion left him passed out. Though he had been physically fit and in peak condition, the neglect was starting to show in a lankier build and gaunt face.
Gently placing his hand on Remy's shoulder, he shook him awake. "Fils, it's time t' let her go."
The grogginess of sleep prevented Remy from fully registering his father's words. Instead, he slowly straightened his back. The vertebrae in his neck and spine realigned one by one with cracks and pops. He tilted his head from side to side to stretch the kinks in his muscles. Finally, he disentangled his hands from where they rarely left Rogue's body. He'd needed to touch her constantly. Without her bright spirit, the little bit of physical closeness made him feel connected to her.
Knowing his father had spoken but unaware of his words, he asked, "Quoi?"
"There's a long term facility." Jean-Luc gave his shoulder a tight squeeze. "A good one. She'll get de best of care. Y' can even visit her whenever y' want, day or night. De arrangements have already been made."
Reality quickly set in for Remy and he was wide awake with the outrage. They were going to take Rogue away. Lock her up where he couldn't be with her 24/7. Out of sight, out of mind so he'd get back to running the guild. That's all they ever wanted of him. Well, not on his watch.
"So yo' just gon' throw her away, like she don't even exist?" He quietly seethed.
"Remy." Jean-Luc sighed. "Fils, even Mattie says there's nothin' more that can be done. If she was meant t' pull through this, she would have by now."
Remy shrugged off his father's hand as he violently stood and spun around on the older man. "I ain't givin' up on her!"
His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he struggled to keep his anger in check. The muscles in his jaw flexed in a matching cadence while he huffed out his nose like a raging bull.
Jean-Luc raised his hands in a placating gesture. "What y've done fo' her is honorable. No one will doubt yo' faithfulness t' yo' femme. And I'm proud of de way y've grown t' care fo' her since y' deux were married."
Remy scoffed. He didn't simply care for Rogue. He loved her, with all his body and soul.
Misunderstanding his son's objection, Jean-Luc continued. "It's time t' face de facts, Remy. What made her Rogue is gone and now we need t' care fo' her physical body. De facility can do that better than we can here."
"Admit it," Remy taunted instead. "Y' just want de distraction gone so I'll get back to guild business."
Jean-Luc slowly lowered his hands. He met his son's accusing gaze and held it while he debated his answer. The awkward pause stretched on until he'd finally settled on the truth.
"Yes. It's fo' de greater good." He answered.
Remy's whole body tensed as he forced himself not to take a swing at his father. Though he knew what the response would be, a part of him had hoped that any sentimental attachment Jean-Luc had formed for Rogue would win out. He should have known better. His whole life was about assuming guild leadership. Why should his marriage not be that way too?
Seeing no argument that would buy him more time, Remy issued the order. "Tomorrow."
Jean-Luc nodded. "De ambulance service will be here at 9." The appointment had already been made.
"Now get out." Remy spat between clenched teeth.
"Fils-" His father started to object, but he cut him off. "Y've already set how much time I have left wit' her. I won't waste it by havin' an audience."
The older man appraised his son for a moment before dipping his chin in agreement. As he turned toward the door, Remy called out a final instruction.
"Père?" Jean-Luc stopped, but only turned his head so he could hear better. "I don't want any disturbances 'til mornin'."
Acknowledging the command, he left his son and daughter-in-law in peace.
Once Remy was sure he was alone with Rogue again, he dropped back into the chair he'd pulled up to her side of the bed. Grasping her hand in both of his, he bent forward until his temple rested on her hip.
"Anna, chère." He quietly pleaded. "If yo' still in there, if y' can hear me, know that I love y' wit' every piece of me. I know I should've said it before, when it wasn't a last minute confession, but there's no doubt fo' me anymore. I want more, l'amour de ma vie. I want it all. And if yo' gone, really gone, then I'd rather not go on livin'."
He sat up, looking for any clue that she'd heard him. Rogue didn't stir, not that he'd honestly expected her to move. Still, he'd wanted his confession to be a magic balm, one that would wake her from her slumber like a fairytale princess. Who was he kidding? They may be guild royalty, but their life was no fairytale. Or if it was, it was one of Grimms' original twisted versions. With a sigh, he rested his head on her shoulder. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat did more to soothe him than he thought his words did for her.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the sound that indicated she was still alive. "Mon cœur, I need y' t' come back t' me."
(X)-(X)-(X)
'I love y' wit' every piece of me.'
The voice slowly roused Rogue from her sleep. She rolled onto her side, luxuriating in the feel of the silken sheets wrapped around her. A warm hand grazed her outer thigh before sliding up her hip, along her waist, and across the side of her breast.
'I want more, l'amour de ma vie.' The voice coaxed.
She moaned, squeezing her thighs together in anticipation of the pleasure the caress promised. All she had to do was lay on her back and spread her legs to accept her lover. But there was something off about the stroke. It wasn't gentle enough. The skin not smooth enough.
'Mon cœur, I need y' t' come back t' me.' A handsome face matching the voice floated behind her eyelids.
Her eyes popped open at the memory as she shouted, "Remy!" and scooted away from the wayward hand. Thoughts flooded her mind as she remembered everything about her husband: their wedding and rocky start, the Cotillion and second chances, her birthday and passionate nights. Grabbing a handful of sheets, she pulled them up and over her still scantily clad chest.
"Y' are de most stubbornest fille I ever done met." Baron huffed in frustration.
He was reclining on top of the sheets next to her, still fully clothed. She, on the other hand, was still wearing the ridiculous getup he'd put her in. The recent past suddenly flooded her mind as she remembered his many seduction attempts. There had been passionate kisses and touches. Caresses on her inner thigh and warm palms over her covered center. Handfuls of her exposed curves and breasts. But never anything more. Baron Samedi may be a lot of things, but at least he had the scruples to desire willing lovers.
"Ah've gotta get back ta Remy." She answered instead, throwing the covers back and pacing around the bed.
In another lifetime, she may have fallen for such sweet nothings from a red-eyed devil. But in this place, Rogue had been downright uncooperative the entire time. She hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly why, but she had known she had to resist. Only now, after recognizing Remy's voice, did she remember why she couldn't give in to this silver tongued devil. She already belonged to a different devil.
Baron sighed, but sat up nonetheless. "And tell me why y' need t' get back t' dis homme."
Rogue stopped her pacing long enough to look at him as if the answer should be obvious. "Because Ah love him."
"That don't mean much, fille." He rolled his eyes and dismissively waved his hand.
"But he loves me too." She answered, giddy at the thought that she'd heard his voice profess it. Somehow, she knew it was his words and not some wishful delusion that had reached her in this forsaken place.
Resuming her pacing, she tried to figure out how to get off the platform they were on. The sickly green and yellow-orange flames licked the edges and beyond that, there was nothing but darkness.
"Dat still don't answer why, chile, y' should be returned t' dis love." For the first time since she'd encountered him, Baron dropped all bawdy pretext. "Are mortals not fickle in their emotions? Are they not unfaithful t' their commitments and inconstant wit' their partners? Why would y' want t' return t' dat when y' can be so much mo' here?"
Rogue had been ignoring him for the most part, concentrating on finding a way out. It was the last that finally drew her attention back to him.
"Remy's not like that." She cringed a little as she remembered how he rushed off to see Bella Donna after the first time they'd been intimate. But it was the memory of the way he'd made love to her on the boat that regained her confidence in him. "Not anymore."
Baron finally stood and strode over to her, grasping her shoulders tightly in his to force her attention solely on him. "What's t' stop me from keepin' y' here anyway?"
"Not what. Who." Rogue answered in all confidence. "Remy'll stop ya. Because if ya don't lemme go, he's gonna come here. And when, not if, he gets here, he won't stop 'til he tears ya apart."
In all the seriousness of her promise, the one response she hadn't expected was the one Baron gave. After a minute of staring her down, he threw his head back and laughed. Never mind he knew that their mortal strength was no match for his otherworldly power.
"Fille, y' sure are a spitfire. How I'd love t' keep y'." The smile faded from his lips only to be replaced by a rarely seen sobriety in his expression. "Mais, it seems another already has a claim on yo' soul, even if y' should be mine by right of coundja."
With a snap of his fingers, the platform and bed disappeared. Rogue surreptitiously looked at her surroundings, seeing they were back at the crossroads where she'd first encountered Baron.
"I suppose dat means I gotta undo dat curse." Baron resigned.
"Indeed, y' do." A new voice answered from behind them.
Rogue spun around to see a kindly looking, crooked old man dressed in rags and leaning heavily on a cane. His wide brimmed straw hat blocked out the sunshine that brightened the area around him and his bare feet were covered in the dark rich soil of the earth underneath him. He took a puff on his pipe, billowing out the smoke on the exhale before resting it on the top of his cane.
"Papa Legba." Baron acknowledged with a tilt of his head. "I shoulda known y' were behind helpin' de fille remember."
The other man inclined his chin just a notch as he reminded, "She don't belong here. Never shoulda been sent here t' begin wit'. Dat coundja was cast outta spite and revenge."
A disgusted moue twisted Baron's mouth. "So yo' here t' take de fille back."
"As soon as y' reverse de coundja." Legba confirmed, taking another toke from his pipe.
"Ah-ah!" A reluctant smile lit Baron's face as he wagged a finger at the other man. Trickster to trickster, they knew each other's games. "Nothin' gets past you."
Waving his hand in Rogue's general direction, he added, "C'est fait."
She didn't feel any different, but at least she had normal clothes back on. "Thank God," she muttered under her breath.
"Bon." Legba dismissed Baron as quickly as he had addressed him. Turning to Rogue, he held out his hand. "Chile, it's time t' come wit' me."
She hesitated, unsure if this was another trap in some way. "How do Ah know Ah can trust ya?'
"Viens, viens," He waved her over. "I ain't gon' hurt y' none."
Rogue only paused for a second longer before rushing over to Legba and taking his outstretched hand. Anyone had to be better than Baron. Turning back, she watched him tip his hat at her as he bowed and faded from sight.
"'Til we meet again, chérie." He departed.
"Over my dead body." Rogue sassed, but an echo of Baron's laughter was her only answer.
Once they were alone, Legba wrapped his arm around hers as he said, "Time t' get y' back where y' belong. Dere's not a moment t' spare."
Rogue was confused by his words, but the world around her swirled and twirled into nothing but lights and colors. Any thought she tried to piece together was wiped away as the light grew brighter and brighter before whiting out into the blissfulness of unconsciousness.
(X)-(X)-(X)
Remy awoke with a start. He wasn't sure what had jarred him out of the restless sleep, but the hairs rose on the back of his neck. Instantly alert, he sat motionless and let his senses take over. Nothing was out of place. Sight, smell, sound was all the same as it had been the last three weeks. Glancing over at the clock, he saw an ominous 9:02.
Any minute, they'd be coming to take Rogue away.
Sighing, he gazed longingly at her prone body. All the thoughts and prayers, his profession of love, they had done nothing. She lay as unmoving as the day she'd nearly collapsed on the stairs. They were two days away from Christmas and instead of making the happy memories of their first winter holiday together, she would be in some healthcare facility while he would be expected to put on a smile and interact with family and friends as if nothing was wrong. He was about to reach out with his gloved hand to say his goodbyes when he pulled back.
'Pic kee il!' Remy thought, tearing the glove away.
If this was going to be the last time he could touch his beloved wife, then he was going to do it skin to skin. He was going to memorize the feel of her silky locks and satiny flesh. The hard planes of her muscles under her soft curves were going to be molded permanently into his hands. His forehead would press flush against hers as his lips lingered against her full mouth for the final time. Because after this, their caresses would never be the same again.
Eventually guild business would take up more and more of his time. Every other day visits would turn into once a week, then once a month, then every couple of months until a year had passed. That anniversary would be the one he celebrated instead of the wedding, but even that would eventually be spent with a glass of bourbon at his desk in the patriarch's office. There was a certainty to this future because he'd witnessed Jean-Luc go through the same process year after year when Amélie's birthday rolled around. He was just about to reach out for Rogue's hair when Mercy's voice halted his movement.
"Remy," She said softly, "They're here."
At first, he didn't acknowledge her. His hand was still paused midair and he sat frozen like a statue. Of course, his last private moments with Rogue would be stolen from him too. Why didn't he expect it?
With a bitter glance, he lowered his hand and said, "Bien, mais I need five minutes."
"They only have deux." She responded, but he knew that was Jean-Luc speaking. Mercy was just the messenger.
"D'accord." He'd take what he could get.
Waiting until Mercy stepped into the hall, Remy stood up and let his eyes roam over Rogue's face. He hadn't seen those vibrant green eyes in weeks and he already felt like he was forgetting their exact shade. Committing as much of her to memory as he could, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers. When nothing happened, he lingered for a few seconds before moving to whisper in her ear.
"Je t'aime, mon âme. Sans cesse."
He kissed her lips again and was about to slip his hand from hers when a swift tug kept their hands tightly entwined. Remy stopped and slowly turned to look back at Rogue. His heart thumped painfully in his chest as he watched for any further sign of consciousness. A second passed, then two, five, before painstakingly her eyes fluttered open.
Remy couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had to be hallucinating or something, some deep seated wishful thinking that made him see what he wanted to see. But everything was proved true when her verdant gaze found and held his.
"Re-my," she croaked. After a pause and a little cough, she tried again. "Remy."
Immediately, he sat back down and scooped her up in his arms as best he could without hurting her or disturbing the medical equipment.
"I'm here, chère! I'm here!" Rising up just enough to turn, he shouted out, "Mercy! Mercy, she's awake! Rogue's awake!"
Soft fingers tangling in his hair refocused his attention on his wife. He kissed her fingers, her cheeks, her lips, unable to get enough of her. It wasn't until she wiped the moisture from the corner of his eyes that he even knew there were tears.
"Why…ya cryin'…sug?" Her voice labored.
"Ma vie, mamour, I thought I'd lost y'." He whispered.
Mattie's voice carried across the room, interrupting their moment as she scolded, "Garçon, I don' know what game yo' playin' at, mais it's time t' let go."
Without turning around, he answered, "She's awake, Tante!"
"Awake my hind end. We done already been through this, there ain't no helpin'…" Her words trailed off in shock as she saw Rogue give her a weak wave.
"Hi, Tante." She rasped.
There was a pause before Mattie screamed, adding, "Oh, Bon Dieu! Praise de Lord! Hallelujah!"
Quickly, she turned to shout out to the rest of the family who had come running when they heard her scream. "Rogue's awake! De fille's done pulled through!"
Two EMTs followed the commotion and had entered the suite with a gurney when Mattie shooed them out. "Now go on and get outta here. We don't need yo' services or yo' fancy hospital. Our girl's awake!"
Mattie pushed Remy out of the way none too gently as she checked on Rogue's health. The final examination would be made by the guild physician, but she just had to see for herself that the traiteur healing arts were successful. While she busied herself with the basic vitals, Remy looked over to where his sister-in-law, brother, and father were crowded in the doorway. As his eyes met the last, he gave him a hard glare. If it wasn't for this last minute miracle, his father would have issued the order for Rogue to rot away in some institution. It was not something he would forget, or even forgive, any time soon.
Satisfied with her precursory checkup, Mattie patted Rogue on the hand before turning her attention to everyone else. "She's gon' be just fine! But fo' now, de fille needs some rest."
And with that pronouncement, she herded everyone out of the room, including Remy at first. A quick glance at him indicated he was immovable. His arms were crossed over his chest and his feet were firmly planted shoulder width apart. That same dark glower remained on his face as he watched his family file out. Mattie just waved him off, unwilling to contend with that attitude for such a trivial reason. 'Pick your battles' had always been Mattie's philosophy.
When everyone had left, Remy resumed his seat by Rogue's bedside.
"What happened?" She asked, trying desperately to remember any scrap or detail.
The last thing that came to mind was them parking at the Unified Guild headquarters and walking in to start the Invalidation ceremony. She couldn't even recall the outcome although she was sure they'd held it.
"Tante says a curse was put on y'." He answered, taking her hands up in his again. After a moment's pause, he asked, "Don't y' remember a thing?"
Rogue's brows knit together as she tried, but eventually she shook her head. "No. Just bein' surrounded by fire and feelin' so ill Ah wanted ta die."
Remy's heartbeat kicked up a notch. While he didn't believe much of the mystical arts, he'd heard enough stories about people really dying while under one. If Rogue had given up, would the same have happened to her? Was he closer to losing her than he thought? It meant professing his love for her was even more important than he'd originally thought. The plan had been selfish and intended to bring her back to him, but now he understood it may have saved her life. Except…
His shoulders sagged a little at her admission. Remy didn't know what he'd expected to hear, but he'd hoped his words somehow had reached her in whatever forsaken place she'd been. Though from her description, she hadn't heard a single word. Or at least, didn't remember if she had.
Sensing his dejection, Rogue pulled her hand away from his and brushed his bearded cheek. He turned his face into the gesture and took comfort from the loving caress.
"Ah think…" She started but hesitated as she searched for the right words. Rephrasing, she said, "You were there with me, weren't ya? Like, Ah vaguely remember feelin' like ya helped me. Somehow."
It wasn't exactly what he was looking for, but it was enough. A small grin turned up his lips as he kissed her palm. "Ouias, chérie. I was. De entire time."
The idea of proposing to her once again popped in his head. Life had been a whirlwind since he'd come up with the plan on the yacht and he hadn't had a chance to act on it. This incident with the curse told Remy that life was too short, too precious to let guild politics get in the way. Plus, he'd received his Christmas present two days early: Rogue had woken up. That meant they still were going to make those memories he so desperately wanted. And what better way to celebrate than with a winter proposal?
It was terribly cliché, Remy knew. After all, he'd spent one too many holidays out on the streets in Vieux Carre and witnessed the sappy out-of-towners firsthand. During any one of the many nights of LUNA Fête or Miracle on Fulton Street, he'd seen as many as four couples get engaged an hour. And then he'd promptly picked the distracted future groom's pocket. A cocky smirk spread across his face. Holidays, Carnivale, and Jazz Fest were always the busy seasons, especially for novices and thieves in training.
"What're ya grinnin' 'bout, sugar?" Rogue's soft words snapped his attention back to the present.
Rather than tell stories about his more lucrative endeavors, he refocused on his first train of thought.
"Nothin', chérie, 'cept plannin' how we're gon' spend our first Christmas t'gether." His smile morphed into the one that showed his dimples and made women swoon, though he only cared about making one woman swoon now. Judging by the softening of her face and the gentle curve of her lips, it had worked.
"Oh, Remy. We don't have ta do anythin' special." She soothed her thumb across his cheekbone.
"Non, non. I disagree." Remy protested. "There's de bonfires fo' Papa Noel et Reveillon fête. And maybe even another surprise y' ain't expectin'." He threw in a wink.
"Okay, sugar." The twinkle sparkling in his eyes made Rogue smile and agree. How could she say no when he was obviously that excited about whatever he had planned?
"Bon!" He grabbed the hand that was still on his cheek and kissed the fingertips.
Her smile grew brighter as she quickly added, "There is one thing Ah'd like as a present though."
"Anythin', mamour." He kissed her fingers again.
With a wrinkle to her nose and a little pout, she asked, "Would ya get rid of the beard?"
Remy pretended he was insulted as he indignantly mocked, "Don't like de scruffy look, hein?"
"Sug, yer way past scruffy!" She giggled at his game.
Unable to resist the urge to tease her, he gave her the puppy dog eyes and pouted but didn't say a word. He knew how to bide time in negotiations. Rogue turned her head and squinted, trying to take in his full beard from a different perspective.
After a moment, she hedged, "Well, Ah suppose a goatee or a Van Dyke wouldn't be terrible," before quickly adding, "But it wouldn't be that great either. Ah like lookin' at yer pretty face."
"Pretty, hein?" He answered with a Cheshire grin.
Rogue playfully swatted him as she said, "Like you don't know yer handsome."
He quirked an eyebrow as he continued to tease her, "Ah, but y' said 'pretty', chère."
"Yer incorrigible, sugar." She rolled her eyes at him, knowing there was no way to dig her way out of this hole.
"Mmm. Mais¸ y' love me fo' it." And with that, Remy leaned down to kiss his beautiful wife.
The gently pressing of lips soon turned into fingers tangled in hair and little licks and nips. It wasn't long before the innocent kiss morphed into a more passionate entendre. Blood roared through his body and as his tongue grazed hers, Remy could only think about climbing into bed next to her. A knock on the doorframe and a throat clearing quickly dashed those plans.
Breaking the embrace and spinning around to give the intruder a verbal lashing, Remy held his tongue when he saw the guild physician stood in the doorway. It was clear the doctor had witnessed the kiss.
"Traiteur Baptiste sent me t' check on Madame LeBeau. Possibly clear her fo' discharge." The short, dark haired man awkwardly explained.
Turning back to Rogue, Remy gave her another, tamer kiss before standing up. "I'm gon' go run y' a bath. They been takin' care of y', mais I figure y'll feel more refreshed."
"Thanks, Rem." Rogue gave him a grateful smile and squeezed his hand before letting him walk away.
(X)-(X)-(X)
By the time Remy had the bath ready and all of Rogue's supplies out of the shower and on the tub's built in shelf, the physician had finished the exam. One of the staff nurses had joined the doctor and helped clear the medical equipment so when Remy stepped out, Rogue was alone and propped up in bed waiting for him.
He helped her out of the simple slip nightgown, tamping down the natural urges that rose from seeing her naked form. Swiftly picking her up, he carried her to the bathroom and eased her into the warm water before stripping down himself and crawling in behind her. They were curled together with Rogue's back against Remy's chest as his arms circled around her shoulders and pulled her close. Bath bubbles floated aimlessly around them while they simply basked in each other's company.
"Anna?" Remy finally hedged as he helped shampoo her hair. Raising her arms above her head for too long still left her shaky. Deferring to his skilled hands, she hummed in response.
As his long fingers massaged her scalp, he paused for a moment before asking, "What was de last thing y' remember?"
"Mmm." She sighed in both pleasure and reminiscence. Once again, the only thing that came to mind was, "The Invalidation Ceremony. Or rather, right before it. Ah remember us gettin' outta the car and walkin' toward the interior, but nothin' else. It's not even like blackness or anythin'. Just there and then here this mornin'."
Remy's heart thudded for a moment before he took a measured breath to control his reaction. If she didn't remember the Invalidation Ceremony, then she didn't remember Marius confronting her. Or the stunt with the knife. And if she didn't remember those things, then it was a pretty safe bet that she didn't remember promising to tell him everything Marius had instructed her to do.
Finished lathering up, he motioned for her to lean forward while he used the retractable hose to rinse her hair clean. Their thoughts were lost to the sound of the rushing water. Once the suds were clear, Rogue leaned back against his chest and he started on the conditioner. Silence fell between them, but it was the comfortable kind that came from complete faith and trust. Despite his concerns, Remy knew he would never doubt her again for fear of losing her.
"Chère, there was an incident durin' de Invalidation." He started, twisting her hair up into a pile on her head so the conditioner had time to work the way she liked. "Y' pulled a knife on me."
Rogue gasped and tried to spin around to face him. "What? No! Remy, Ah love ya. Please remember that!"
"I know, chérie." He winced at the exact phrasing that she couldn't remember telling him. "I'm just preparin' y'. Père is gon' have questions that I don't think yo' gon' be able t' answer anymore."
Reluctantly, she leaned back against him. Why couldn't she remember something so obviously important? "Would ya tell me what happened?"
Remy whooshed out a breath. Stalling for a second, he grabbed his favorite scent from Rogue's body washes and poured a generous amount in his hand. The soap oozed over his hands as he rubbed them together in front of her torso. Satisfied the cleaner was well distributed and out of stall time, he ran his palms over her shoulders, neck, collarbone.
"Toussaint accused me of bein' just as incompetent as a master thief fo' not realizin' y' weren't Belle on our weddin' day." He continued washing her arms and nudged her forward to get her back. "I started t' charge de maul used fo' de ceremony and y' put yo' hand on my leg t' try t' calm me. It wasn't workin', so y' pulled yo' knife and buried it in de table."
"Sug, that don't sound so bad." Rogue hated to disagree with him right now, but that wasn't what she'd expected to hear. Though what she'd expected, she couldn't really explain.
"Trust me, mon cœur," Remy mirthlessly chuckled, "It was. Especially since I caught Marius cornerin' y' before de ceremony and makin' y' promise t' do somethin'."
Tears pricked her eyes as she whispered, "Ah'm sorry, Remy."
He stopped the soapy ministrations to pull her closer, resting his chin on her shoulder. His mouth hovered by her ear as he soothed, "It's not yo' fault, Anna. Y' did de only thing y' could think of."
"So why don't it feel like it then?" Unknown guilt weighed on her conscience.
"I was hopin' y' could tell me that." Remy answered. He was afraid the response might be too honest. "Y' had said y' were gon' tell me everythin' before y' were…taken ill."
He still didn't believe she was cursed despite the evidence he'd witnessed firsthand. He just couldn't give it any credence or power. His fears about hurting her were unfounded. If he could have seen her face, he would have watched her brows knit together in confusion as she tried to pull a memory out of nothingness.
"Ah just don't remember." She resigned. Maybe something would come to her over the next several days.
"C'est bon, chère. C'est bon." Remy placed a kiss on her cheekbone in front of her ear before resuming with the soap.
Needing to connect with her again, his lips lingered on a second kiss before moving down her neck and across her shoulder. The innocent pecks soon turned into hot, open mouthed sucks as he gently savored her flesh. His hands spread across her chest before gliding down to cup the full weight of her breasts. Palms grazed over the hardening nipples as he flicked over them with his thumbs.
Rogue hummed in pleasure, dropping her head onto Remy's other shoulder. She relaxed even further into him, feeling his growing arousal press into her lower back. Her hands, which had been resting in her lap, slipped over her thighs to rest on his powerful quads. The soothing strokes had his muscles flexing in response. She squirmed between his legs, trying to create friction along his erection and was rewarded with a twitch against her spine.
Ready to continue this in the bedroom, Remy raised them both from reclining positions so he could unplug the tub, flick on the retractable faucet, and stand up in a series of fluid movements. He quickly rinsed her hair before helping her to rise and rinsing the bath bubbles off both their bodies. When he was satisfied the soap was gone, he stepped out and turned back to easily lift Rogue into his arms despite their still slick bodies.
Carrying her over to the bed, he made a mental note to thank Mattie later for discreetly stripping their bed and remaking it with fresh linens. Remy paused at his side long enough to soundly kiss Rogue's mouth before laying her in the middle of the bed. Only a second passed as he joined her, quickly sliding into position between her thighs. This wasn't the time for teasing and touching. It as raw need, pure and simple. They needed to feel the closeness that only making love would give.
Rogue arched her back as Remy worked on her simultaneously. His mouth covered hers, their tongues tangling in a passionate kiss that left her whimpering for more. One hand buried itself in her still wet hair as the other traveled down her stomach, dipping into her navel, before slipping between her lips to caress her clit and stroke her entrance.
Her hands, which had originally held his face close to hers, threaded through his longer hair and across his back. Rogue brought her knee up to give her better access to stroke his arousal. The tip was slick from more than just the bathwater.
Remy finally broke the kiss, opening his eyes to see that gorgeously unique shade of green staring right back at him. He kissed her lips once more before gliding down to those perfect breasts. Swirling his tongue around one nipple, he lathed it several times. It was near agony for her until he sucked the rosy bud between his lips. His teeth lightly nipped at her sensitive flesh.
The sensation, along with the full grasp on his arousal, had her guiding his head to her entrance. She felt his momentary hesitation as his hips pulled away long enough for him to give her other nipple its due attention. A probing finger slipped between her lips to confirm she was ready for him.
Rising back up to gaze into her eyes, Remy nudged her thighs apart a little more as his hips settled against hers. With painstaking slowness, he eased into her tightness.
'Dieu! How can she still be so tight?' He thought as he savored every slick, velvety ridge gliding over his flesh.
He continued sliding in, determined to be buried so deep in her that there would be no telling where he ended and she began. The entire time, his eyes met and held hers as he fought not to roll them back with her gentle caresses against his back, chest, and arms. He bit back a groan as he finally encountered the firm barrier that prevented further penetration.
Rogue gasped, not expecting him to bury himself so deep. When he didn't move, she swiveled her hips to create fiction against her clit. The movement served as a reminder that Remy was in full control as he countered her circling hips with his own. The rotation pushed his tip first against that deep barrier before flicking up into the erogenous area. She could feel him swell and twitch inside her. Throwing her head back, she arched her chest into his and held him deep inside her. Closing her eyes was reflexive to the wave of pleasure.
"Look at me, mamour." Remy coaxed, refusing to move again until her eyes met his.
As soon as verdant met cerise, he lifted his hips to draw out just enough before slowly pushing back in. And so the pace was set as their gazes never wavered. A tortuous withdrawal followed by a delicious advance. His speed gradually picked up; his strokes deliberately grew shallow.
Rogue followed his lead, mimicking the movements that were bringing her pleasure. They'd never gone so slow before, never so deep, never so connected. Her hips rose to meet his, needing to remain together. Her nipples brushed against his chest, sending fiery pulses down her core. With very little effort, she could feel herself coming to the edge. Several successive brushes against her most sensitive spot left her crying out and squeezing his arousal.
The sensations were enough to send him over too. With a final groan, he buried himself deep and came with a swelling spasm. The explosion continued as she continued to clench around him, drawing every last bit from his body. He remained until he could no longer feel her tight muscles.
Spent, Remy slowly slipped from her body and rolled onto his back, bringing her with him to cuddle into his side. His fingers trailed up and down her back and arms, reveling in the feel of her soft, warm skin pressed against his balmy flesh. He leaned over and pressed a kiss against her temple before wrapping her up in both arms.
"I thought I lost y', chère." He quietly admitted.
"Mmm." Rogue intoned. "No way, Cajun. Ah love ya too much ta leave ya now."
"Bon. 'Cause I'll be trackin' y' down if y' ever do. I can't live wit'out y' now, Anna." The confession left his heart pounding in his chest. Never in his life had he been so completely honest with someone.
Rogue kissed the pulse at his neck. "Good thing ya don't have ta, Rem. 'Cause Ah'll be trackin' you down just the same."
A chill ran across his skin as the air started to cool their heated bodies. Grabbing the sheets, he tore them down and kicked them off with his feet so he could pull them up over their naked bodies. Kissing her again, Remy relaxed back in the pillow as he drew her as close as possible. Never would he be separated from her again.
(X)
References
Remy's bedside vigil was inspired by X-Men Vol. 2, #204. Parts of Remy's confession are taken from X-Men Legacy #248, X-Men Gold #30, and Mr. & Mrs. X #9.
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Translations
Qu'est-ce que c'est? – What is it?
Coundja – (Cajun) a curse
l'amour de ma vie – love of my life
C'est fait. – It is done.
Viens, viens – come, come
Pic kee il! – (Cajun) Fuck it!
Je t'aime, mon âme. Sans cesse. – I love you, my soul. Without end.
C'est bon, chère. C'est bon. – It's okay, dear. It's okay.
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Traiteur Information
A traiteur is a Native Creole or traditional healer whose primary method of treatment involves using the laying on of hands, combining Catholic prayer and medicinal remedies. It is blended with traditional Western medicine to wholistically treat patients. Traiteurs do not believe they alone possess the healing skill but rather, they are divine conduits for God's hand.
Cordon – a knotted string tied around an affected area to concentrate healing
All of the herbs mentioned are considered staples in a traiteur's garden for use in remèdes.
Juniper – Invigorate Mind and Body, Resist Illness
Sweetgrass – Attracts Positive Energy
Elderberry – Fever, Chills, Headache
Bottle Gourd – Headache
Lizard's Tail – Anti-inflammatory, Sedative
Lemon Balm – Fever, Headache
Goat Weed – Fever, Chills
Manglier – Fever, Chills
Lemon – Nausea
Ginger – Nausea
Red Bay Leaf – Ward against Evil
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Voodoo Loa
Since Rogue has been cursed with a coundja, it seemed only right for the Voodoo Loa to make an appearance. Loa are the spirits of Louisiana Voodoo and usually syncretic with Catholic saints, tying them in to Catholic Folkism. They run "cool" and "hot", as opposed to evil and good, and are the intermediaries and guides between humanity and the Bondye/Bon Dieu/Supreme Creator.
Baron Samedi (Papa Ghede) – Loa of the dead, sex, and resurrection. Noted for disruption, obscenity, debauchery, and eroticism. He controls the souls of those who die by dark magic. He is the sole decider of whether someone will be accepted into the realm of the dead. He is also the protector of children, preferring them to have a long life than die young.
NOTE: If you watched American Horror Story: Coven, the depiction of Papa Legba is incorrect and more closely resembles Baron Samedi. All they had to do was use the correct name and they would have been spot on!
Papa Legba – Loa of the origin of life and interpreter of the Bondye. He opens the gates for the spirit world. He is much loved, polite, and caring, which earned him the designation Papa. He determines if someone can cross back to the land of the living.