“And you shouldn’t,” he said gently. “Go in there. Call a friend. Go home.”
He turned and left her, suddenly exhausted, and more disappointed than he cared to admit.
He’d thought he’d been chasing…someone. But he hadn’t been. It was that simple.
He swore softly.
Damn, but there were a hell of a lot of foul beasts preying upon the world.
It occurred to him as he walked wearily back to his hotel that man himself could be considered one of them—even before the taint of pure evil touched upon him.
He stopped and looked at the roiling sky. He’d killed a murdering bloodsucker tonight. And it was all just beginning.
“I’m coming to get you. You’re going to be mine, in a world of blood and death and darkness,” Deanna Marin whispered darkly.
“Oh, for the love of God, cut it out,” Lauren Crow pleaded.
“Seriously. Perhaps we’ll open a door to another world, and demons will spring out and bring darkness and evil into this world,” Heidi Weiss said, laughing, unable to maintain a low, threatening tone with the same success Deanna had managed.
Both Deanna and Heidi were staring across the outdoor table at Lauren with ridiculous grins on their faces. Of course, they were both holding drinks obtained from one of the bars here in Jackson Square, though she couldn’t remember which one. Deanna’s glass was in the shape of some kind of nuclear material container and Heidi’s looked like a naked man, buns, pecs and all. Perhaps due to a combination of alcohol and the atmosphere of New Orleans itself, they were suddenly eager to visit one of the numerous fortune-tellers who worked the area around Jackson Square with their tarot cards and crystal balls at the ready.
Lauren was delighted to be there—New Orleans was one of her favorite places in the world. Few locations offered such an artistic setting, with not just the visual stimuli but the with the history of the area and liveliness of people filling the very air as New Orleans did.
Tonight, however…
Maybe it was due to the one Cosmo she’d imbibed, but instead of feeling light and giddy, she felt as if a strange sense of dread and darkness had settled over her.
“Lauren, what on earth is the matter with you?” Heidi demanded. “It’s just for fun.”
Lauren just didn’t like the idea. She didn’t know why—she wasn’t particularly superstitious—but she had never wanted to have her cards read, let someone see her future in her palm, or receive any other kind of astral or otherworldly advice. Time, in her opinion, brought enough hardship without having to worry ahead of time about the bad things that could happen.
But she hated to be a wet blanket when they were here in New Orleans for a much anticipated pre-bridal shower for Heidi. Since they worked together at the artistic concepts company they had created after college, it had taken a lot of planning to get all their projects completed so they were free to take off together.
It was Heidi’s party, and Lauren had promised herself that she was going to make sure everything went exactly the way Heidi wanted it to. But this desire to play with the occult was somerthing new, and it was making her very uncomfortable.
“You said you would do anything at all this weekend to make me happy. Remember, you’re my bridesmaid, so you’re supposed to be my slave,” Heidi teased.
“Why are you so bugged about it?” Deanna asked.
Lauren didn’t know why, and she knew it was silly, but she really didn’t want to look into the future.
“You can pick whoever we go to. How’s that?” Heidi asked.
“Guys, I just think—”
“You need to do this just so you won’t be frightened of a few dramatic effects and some spooky patter,” Deanna said.
“I’m not afraid,” Lauren protested quickly, but even as she spoke, she realized that in fact that was exactly it. She was afraid.
“Really, think about it,” Deanna said, “Most of the psychics here are just college kids, trying to make a few bucks. Think of all the times we came here to draw, and how badly we needed the money people paid us for our sketches.”
“I think you’re forgetting the important point here. I told you. You’re supposed to be my slave, remember?” Heidi said.
”Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lauren muttered. “All right. In that case, I think we should see some kind of voodoo queen. This is New Orleans, after all.”
“And do you know an authentic voodoo queen?” Heidi asked, grinning.
Lauren had to smile; she couldn’t help finding a certain amusement in the question. Heidi Weiss had powder blue eyes, platinum hair and a smile a mile wild, the kind that coerced you into a good humor whether you wanted to feel cheerful or not. That grin was a little lopsided now, but just a little. They hadn’t been drinking to the point of saturation, only enough not to feel any pain.
“We can walk around, look them all over,” she suggested.
Lookswise, Deanna was the opposite of Heidi, with almond dark eyes, sleek, almost blue-black hair, and now she decided to take charge. “I’ve got it. We’ll walk around the entire Square to start. And then, if we don’t see someone Lauren likes, we’ll walk the entire French Quarter.”
Lauren wondered if Deanna really had that much energy, or if she thought Lauren would decide more quickly if the alternative involved endless walking, since she was already—and obviously—exhausted They had arrived that morning on the red-eye from Los Angeles, and they hadn’t stopped since. Lauren always felt very much at home in New Orleans, since she came from Baton Rouge, but Deanna had grown up in NewYork, and Heidi was from Boston. They had come often after becoming friends in college, but neither Heidi nor Deanna knew the little quirks and twists and turns of the place the way she did. They’d hit the casino early; then she’d been assigned to lead them to every little shop in the French Quarter, every place that wasn’t part of a chain. Now she was tired and just wanted to get this over with.
“There,” she said, pointing completely at random.
The woman she had chosen was sitting at a small portable table, facing the Cathedral. She appeared to be older than they were, but beyond that, her age was indeterminate. Her hair was tied back with a scarf, and she wore a white peasant shirt and skirt. Her face was stunning, with strong features and skin a beautiful shade of gold that spoke of a multi-ethnic heritage. She was speaking earnestly to a man in the chair across from her, pointing to the tarot cards she was laying out before her as she spoke. She might have been at a Renaissance fair, rather than the French Quarter of New Orleans. Behind her was a small red tent that would have looked at home on a medieval battlefield. There was a table just inside it, covered with a cloth that depicted the moon and the stars. On the table was a crystal ball.
“She already has a customer,” Deanna noted.
“I’m sure he won’t take that long,” Lauren said with a shrug. She wasn’t sure why she had pointed to the woman, but now that she had, she was suddenly determined. Suddenly she realized that she did know why—she would have liked to draw the woman. Her face was so arresting.
“We could go to Madame Zorba right there,” Heidi teased, inclining her head toward a younger woman just a few feet away.
Lauren grinned. Madame Zorba was definitely a college student. “I like the woman over there,” Lauren insisted.
“There’s a good-looking gypsy guy up the street,” Heidi said.
“You’re engaged,” Deanna teased her.
“Yeah, but you and Lauren could use a guy,” Heidi said.
“Wow. Thanks,” Deanna said.
“Just what I need, a gypsy,” Lauren said. She didn’t let her smile falter. Heidi, damn it, you know I’m not looking to meet a guy.
“You don’t have to fall in love, pack him up and take him home with you,” Heidi told her. Then she added softly, “But you could date. We’re talking well over a year here.”
“Thanks for the advice, Mom,” Lauren murmured. She paused, shivering suddenly, looking up. The night sky seemed to
have clouded over; it had suddenly become cooler. There was a moon trying to come out, she thought, but it was shadowed by the clouds. She frowned. It was strange. There was a red glow where the moon should have been. “We may get rain tomorrow,” she said.
“It’s supposed to be clear all weekend,” Deanna said.
Lauren shrugged. “Look at the sky.”
“Um, well…could be smog,” Deanna said.
“Hey, we’re not in L.A.,” Heidi said with a laugh.
“What—is it just called pollution when you’re not in L.A.?” Deanna asked.
“It’s just an angry red sky,” Lauren murmured.
Heidi groaned. “Oh, Lord, we haven’t even gotten to the fortune teller yet, and she’s talking about poetic doom.”
“It’s just strange,” Lauren said.
“Is there anything weird in the wind?” Heidi teased.
“As a matter of fact, it’s gotten a bit cooler,” Lauren said.
“Thank God,” Deanna breathed.
“You know, we could just go have another drink,” Lauren suggested.
Heidi giggled. “The guy is gone. Let’s go.”
Lauren let out a sigh of impatience. “Just remember, you two wanted to do this. I’ll do whatever you want, but I want it on record that I’m against such silliness.”
“This trip is all about silliness,” Heidi reminded her. “I’m going to get married. No more wild weekendss with the girls. No more adventurous vacations. I mean, Barry is great, and he’d never care if I wanted a few days away with you guys, but…well, you know. And I guarantee you he’s going to have one of those wild bachelor parties with strippers, and his idiot brother is going to make sure he has a lap dance—”
”I’ll be happy to get you a lap dance,” Lauren said.
Heidi laughled. “I don’t want a lap dance. Now humor me, slave,” she told Lauren.
“I’m all humor,” Lauren muttered. “Let’s go.”
As they approached the woman, Lauren decided that she must look as on edge as she felt. Either that or she had talked herself into some kind of ridiculous paranoia, because it seemed as if the woman frowned when she saw them, as if she looked worried. Still, Lauren couldn’t help noticing the strength of her features, and she wondered if she dared ask to do a sketch of her at some point.
There was no nameplate, nothing like Madame X or Madame Zenia or any other cliché, on her table. She rose, stretching out an elegant arm and offering a slender hand with elegantly polished nails. “Hello,” she said simply.
“Hi,” Heidi said cheerfully.
The woman stared at Heidi gravely. “You seek the future?”
“Absolutely,” Heidi said, introducing herself. “I’m Heidi Weiss, and I’m about to be married. I’d love some advice.”
The woman nodded, but her expression said that she read in Heidi’s polite words the simple fact that she didn’t really believe in what she was doing. It was all for fun.
“I’m Deanna Marin,” Deanna said, stepping forward. “And this is Lauren Crow.”
The woman arched a brow slightly, studying Lauren. “Crow?”
“I’ve been told that my great-grandfather was Cherokee,” Lauren said, taking the woman’s hand. There was strength in her grip. It offered a strange assurance.
“I, too, have Cherokee blood. We have the same green eyes.”
“So we do,” Lauren agreed, though she wasn’t sure green eyes came from the Cherokee part of her background.
“You’re tall…five-ten?”
“Around there. Another grandfather was from the Orkney Islands. A big tall guy, so I was told. Some Norse, some Scots.”
“Ah, and thus you are redheaded.”
“I like to think auburn.”
The woman smiled. Lauren had to admit, she liked her, but more than ever, she didn’t want a reading, didn’t want to know what the future supposedly held. She wanted to ask the woman to have a drink with them, instead.
“I like to think I am not turning gray. I’m Susan,” the woman said.
Heidi started to giggle. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized quickly. “It’s just so…normal.”
Susan offered a slight smile in return. “Life is normal, the cycle of life is normal, the air we breathe is normal. So many things are normal, including much that we don’t understand yet.”
“You have a beautiful face,” Lauren heard herself blurt out.
Susan inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the compliment. When she lifted her eyes again, she smiled. “You’re artists?”
“I’m a graphic designer, actually,” Deanna said. “Heidi and Lauren can draw anything in the world, though. They’re fabulous.”
“And you’d like to sketch me?” Susan asked, looking at Lauren.
“I’d love to.”
“That’s not why we’re here, though,” Heidi said.
“Ah, yes, the future,” Susan said. She lifted her hands. “What will it be? Would you like a reading of your palm? Or shall we see what’s in the cards? And then, of course, there is always the crystal ball.”
“We should each do something different,” Deanna suggested.
“Tarot cards,” Heidi said.
“I’ll take a palm reading,” Deanna determined.
Lauren shrugged. “Crystal ball.”
Susan nodded, indicating several small fold-up chairs inside the tent. “Lauren, you are welcome to sketch. I’ll begin with the bride.”
Lauren always carried a small sketch pad in her handbag, but she wondered how Susan knew that, and she was slightly disturbed. Or slightly more disturbed, if she were being honest Then she told herself that Susan already knew they were artists. Guessing that she carried a sketch pad was just a logical assumption. No doubt most people who did this kind of thing for a living learned how to assess people, how to read a great deal in a few words and intuit where to go from there.
Deanna had unfolded the little wooden chairs. She sat on one side of Heidi, while Lauren backed her chair away a bit and took out her sketchbook. As she sat, watching Susan instruct Heidi on how to choose her cards, she could hear the sounds around them. Music in the distance, coming from the bars. People talking, then stopping to ooh and aah at the artwork available on the street. Across from them, near the Cathedral, a lone flutist had set down his cap, and now he performed a plaintive and beautiful tune.
She looked up at the sky. Clouds still rode heavy over the moon, like a red curtain in the air.
She studied Susan. The woman was soft spoken. Elegant. Not at all what she had expected. Her pencil moved over the paper. She drew the lines first, then filled in the shades and shadows. Finally she added background, the greenery around the Square, the sidewalk, the tent, the statue of Andrew Jackson rising far behind Susan’s back.
“Ugh! What does that mean?” Heidi asked, drawing Lauren’s attention to the table, where Heidi had turned up a card with a skeleton.
“It’s…death, isn’t it?” Heidi asked.
Susan shook her head. “It often signifies change, an ending so that there can be a new beginning. You are about to end your single life. You will start into a new life.”
“Whew,” Heidi murmured. Though she spoke lightly, Lauren thought she was seriously relieved, and she felt a new wave of discomfort.
“What’s that?” Deanna asked, pointing to another card.
“Love.” Susan looked at Heidi. “You can rest assured in this—your fiancé loves you very much. You are all he has ever wanted, all he could ever need in life.”
“Oh,” Heidi breathed happily. “Ditto.”
“Yes, I can see,” Susan murmured.
“Will the wedding go off without a hitch?” Heidi asked.
“No wedding goes off without a hitch,” Susan said dryly as she scooped up the cards, patting them back into a neat pile. “But you are deeply loved, and you love deeply in return.”
“Thank you.” Heidi rose and looked at Lauren with an expression on her face that plainly
said, See? Nothing to be afraid of.
Lauren smiled back weakly, wondering if Heidi had really been listening. Susan hadn’t said anything specific about Heidi’s wedding at all—she had just generalized about weddings. And she had said the skeleton card often indicated a change.
Then again, Lauren told herself, maybe she was the one hearing words that weren’t being said.
“On to the palm,” Deanna said. She and Heidi changed seats. As Deanna started to sit down, she glanced at Lauren’s drawing and frowned.
“What is it?” Lauren asked.
“Uh, nothing, I guess. It’s a great drawing. It’s just that…well, you made the skeleton card the focus of it.”
“I did not!” Lauren protested and looked down at the sketch. It was one of her best, she thought. She’d captured not just a two-dimensional image but given it great depth. She’d found the strange and arresting beauty that was Susan’s. She’d caught the atmosphere of the Square. You could look at the drawing and almost hear music.
And yet…
Deanna was right. Somehow she had detailed the tarot card down to the finest line so that it unerringly drew the viewer’s eye and became the focus of the picture.
“Don’t draw me,” Deanna whispered to her.
“Okay,” Lauren assured her quietly in return.
Susan was watching them both. Deanna noticed and gave her a rueful smile. “Lauren was engaged once.”
“And her young man died,” Susan said. Wow, damned good guess,
Lauren thought irritably. Though it was a fifty-fifty shot. Either they’d broken up or he had died. She knew that she was just one of many young women of her day. She’d fallen in love with a soldier. He’d gone to war. They’d emailed for six months, and then she’d stopped receiving replies.
Until the army lieutenant had come to her house.
She’d gone through it all. The devastation, the anger. And the healing. She didn’t feel that she had any terrible psychological hang-ups. She just wasn’t actively looking to find love again. But if the right person came along…
Would she be ready?
She really didn’t know.
“I’m so sorry,” Susan said to Lauren gravely. She was clearly sincere, making Lauren feel vaguely guilty, though she wasn’t quite sure why.
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