Synopsis

Ophelia lives unaware of the mystical world that simmers beneath the cracked streets and soddened earth of the Crescent City. The mysteries and magical gifts of her community are unveiled by her grandmother when Ophelia assumes the role as her family’s next Traiteur. Derived from the French word traiter (“to treat”), Traiteurs are Cajun healers with the unique ability to heal ailments through magic.

Once she embraces her treating gift, an exciting and enchanting world opens to Ophelia, and she is quick to embrace it. But darkness lurks. Ophelia is shaken when a serial killer begins murdering citizens at random, leaving behind cryptic messages written in blood. She has the distinct feeling that she’s somehow connected to the murders.

Ophelia must uncover her relation to the murders, but she’s faced with obstacles and dead ends at every turn. Her journey to truth leads her through painful heartache, mind-numbing lust and a love she’s never known before.

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Excerpt

The sound of the front door opening and deep voices talking pulled her out of her thoughts. Jade’s husband, Luke, and his friend Etienne walked through the door, gym clothes drenched in sweat.

“Oh, hello, ladies,” Luke said and bent over to kiss Jade on the cheek. “I didn’t know you were stopping by,” Luke said to Ophelia with a welcoming smile.

“Just a last-minute hang.” Ophelia shrugged.

“I’d give you a hug, but I’m sweaty from beating Etienne’s ass in basketball.”

“I can see,” Ophelia said in mock disgust at his sweat. Ophelia strained to keep her eyes trained on Luke, but her traitorous body couldn’t help but look at Etienne. His dark brown curls were damp with sweat, making the coils tighter, and his cheeks were flushed from working out. His sweaty shirt clung to his muscles, and his basketball shorts had the same effect as gray sweatpants. And she could smell him from the couch, not in a bad way. She just recognized the way he smelled— tree bark, fresh air, and soap. This time, his scent was muskier from basketball.

Ophelia had a weird thing about smells. Always had. Her high school boyfriend, her first love, smelled like her teen years: bottled cut grass, pine trees, salty sweat, and strawberries. A scent she’d never forget. And scents weren’t limited to just men. Her mother smelled of Lancome makeup, coffee, and lavender. Jolie smelled like a honey-baked ham, and growing up, she’d jokingly nip at Jolie’s arm and say she tasted like Thanksgiving dinner. Evangeline smelled pink, all poppies and cotton candy. She even used her sense of smell like others used their “gut instinct.”

“Hey, E,” she said.

He locked eyes with Ophelia. The corner of his mouth lifted, and his dimple popped through his beard. “Hey, O,” he said.

Etienne was technically a friend of Luke’s from high school, but he had evolved into somewhat of a staple in Ophelia’s overarching friend group. She originally met Luke, Etienne, and Ben, the third member of their friendship trio, in college at LSU. At the time, Etienne was on the med school track and was constantly studying, so she barely saw him out at bars or parties in college; when she did, he was always cornered by a gaggle of women fawning over his brooding mystique and good looks.

But he had accomplished what he set out to do. He was now a doctor— a general practitioner in New Orleans, to be more specific.

Over the years, Ophelia learned that it was unlike him to express his emotions. Instead, he kept them inside, turning them round and round like gemstones in need of polishing. But when he did speak, everyone listened because they knew it would be something important or profound or so perfectly funny they did not want to miss it.

The word Ophelia would use to describe their current friendship would be “strained.” Not because something happened between them, like an argument. No. The exact opposite, in fact. Nothing had ever happened between them. They were like two magnets attempting not to smash into each other every time they were in one another’s vicinity.

“Ophelia, you staying for dinner?” asked Luke. “We’re grillin’.” Luke didn’t wait for a response, heading straight for the kitchen to prep.

About the Author

Kristen H. Casey is a debut author with a passion for romance. She’s a fifth-generation Cajun who has lived in Louisiana for most of her life and graduated from Louisiana State University in Mass Communication. Her love and heartbreak for the swampy place are evident in her writing. To escape the onslaught of hurricanes and flooding, she moved her family in 2022 from New Orleans to the Queen City of Charlotte, North Carolina. Kristen honed her writing skills through a decade and a half of creative marketing strategy at agencies, in-house marketing and classes at the New Orleans Writers Workshop. She lives happily with her husband, daughter and corgi.

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