by G A Chase
After the previous day on the riverboat, Kendell would have been happy to keep as far from the Mississippi as possible. But with her friends in danger, she doubted that would be possible. Sucking up her courage, she chose to see the crossing as an adventure rather than a nightmare.
Whit must have sensed her discomfort, as he engaged her in conversation to distract her from the boat’s rocking. “That story of Louis Broussard that Mary told you last night isn’t unique to this community. I’ve recorded similar tellings as far north as Baton Rouge.”
“Do you get much deviation in the details?”
He swung the boat into the wake of the cruise ship, which helped steady the rocking motion. “I’ve heard he fell in the river drunk, committed suicide, or was tossed in by a mugger. The common thread, though, is he lost everything first. The homeless along the river see him as some kind of patron saint. Don’t ask me why. That’s one I’m still trying to decipher. I guess everyone likes to think there’s some noble story about how they’ve come to be at the bottom of the socio-economic scale.”
The engine on the small flat-bottomed boat revved up as Whit turned the nose back toward the wave crests. They were getting close. She pointed toward her building. “I live over there.”
Unlike the Westbank, on this side of the river, Whit couldn’t just dock his boat wherever he pleased. He slowed the engine and crept along the pilings of the wharf until he came up on a worn wooden ladder. “This might be the best I can do. If it doesn’t feel stable, we can wander a little farther upriver.”
The last thing she wanted was to have to walk the length of the French Quarter, or worse, dock next to the tour paddle wheelers. “I’m sure I can make this work.”
“One last thing before you go. Mary’s comment on you being family wasn’t made lightly. Her little clan might not appear to have much influence, but among the homeless, they are well respected. No matter where you go—a dark alley, an abandoned home, anytime you feel in danger—know there will be people keeping an eye on you. The homeless are the invisible watchers. Very little happens that they don’t know about.”
She began to understand his attraction to societies made up of people who eked out a living. Those surviving on the economic edge looked out for each other. “You’ve been more than kind to me. I do have one last request. My friends are being held hostage in a broken-down warehouse. I have a rough idea of where. If you could locate them and tell them I’m doing what I can, that would help put my mind at rest.”
“Consider it done. I’ll even help with the rescue when the time comes. In return, however, I’d like to document your story. It would fit in nicely with the legend of Louis Broussard. I’ll be across the river for another couple of weeks, so you’ll know where to find me.”
24
Though he was exhausted both mentally and physically, Myles simply couldn’t fall asleep. The couch in Kendell’s apartment was plenty comfortable, but his constant worry about her occupied every thought. He should be out there doing something. Cheesecake wasn’t much help with her look of accusation from the ottoman.
“At least I had some idea of where you were after your abduction. If I had even a guess about Kendell’s location, don’t you think I’d be searching for her?” He simply didn’t know where to start.
Not for the first time that night, he got off the couch and paced the small apartment. It’d been a long night of worrying, and that wasn’t what he did best. At least when morning came, he could pick up the artifacts from the convent. Going through them would give him something to do. But if she didn’t show up by noon, he swore—Chief of Police Laroque be damned—he would file a missing person’s report. Maybe he could get Lieutenant Cazenave to listen. He hadn’t betrayed Myles and Kendell to the chief last time, and though he might not admit to the existence of curses, it was his job to investigate the paranormal.
Having a plan helped, though noon was still six hours away. He imagined the nuns would be up before dawn, but knocking on the door before first light seemed presumptuous.
Cheesecake leapt off the ottoman and bolted toward the door before Myles heard the key in the lock. The dog was howling and whining with such animation he could nearly make out the words she was trying to form.
He felt as if his heart were pulling him toward the door. As it opened, Cheesecake practically knocked Kendell back into the hallway. He’d never seen the old dog jump and dance with so much vigor.
Kendell bent down and picked up Cheesecake. “Oh, I love you too, girl. I’m sorry I made you worry.”
The dog only received the bare minimum of greetings. Kendell carefully set Cheesecake back down and raced into Myles’s arms. “Don’t let go.”
She was a mess. The stench of smoke, fish, and Mississippi mud made his eyes water. Dirt crumbled off her dress as they embraced. None of it mattered. She was in his arms where she belonged.
“You scared the shit out of me. I love you so much. You’re not supposed to run off like that just before someone tells you they love you.”
She sighed softly against his cheek. “I’m sorry. I have loads to tell you.”
He didn’t want to let her go. “Me too. But first, I’ve got to go pick up the baron Malveaux’s trunk from Our Lady of Mercy convent.”
She hugged him so tight his ribs hurt. “You read my mind. We need those objects. Give me fifteen minutes to shower and burn these clothes.”
As he sat on the couch, waiting for Kendell, Cheesecake snuggled to his side. He couldn’t tell if she thought he had something to do with Kendell’s return or if she simply shared his relief.
The woman who eventually emerged from the bathroom resembled the Kendell he’d had lunch with just the previous day and not the mud-wrestling champion who’d walked in the door.
“I always suspected women could get dressed in a hurry when they wanted to.”
Her girlish giggle made him want to hold her in his arms again. “Well, it doesn’t take much makeup to impress the nuns. But once we get back from the convent, you can be sure I’ll be spending a good hour in the tub before making myself properly presentable.”
* * *
It took a couple of trips to haul the four trunks the handful of blocks from the convent to the apartment. They filled Kendell’s small living room. Once the nuns had dug up Fleurentine’s possessions, they were all too happy to be rid of the stuff. If the old-fashioned luggage had been any heavier, she would have asked Myles to enlist one of his friends. After the day she’d had, she couldn’t be expected to perform strenuous labor. But sharing the task with Myles meant she had him all to herself.
“Who knew she had so much stuff?”
Myles opened one of the boxes and poked around in the contents. “I only asked for the box from the baron Malveaux.”
She stood in the middle of the room in her jeans, with her hands on her hips, surveying her new possessions. “I feel a bit like a forgotten niece who just inherited the family’s junk.”
“They must have misunderstood.”
She doubted it. He could be a little gullible at times. She opened the crate nearest to her. “This one looks like just clothing.” The old dresses might make for interesting costumes should the band want a different look, but other than that, she didn’t see much use for the outfits.
“I’m not faring much better. For someone who was living the life of a nun, she sure had a lot of clothes and jewelry.”
Just to be thorough, Kendell dug down through the dresses to the bottom of the box. “I would guess these things gave her comfort, or maybe she kept them as a warning against what lay beyond the convent walls.”
He pulled out a sheet of yellowed paper from the top of the next box. “Looks like this is what we’re after. It’s a catalogue of the baron’s possessions. This is going to take a while.” He unwrapped a bundle of cloth to reveal a pair of glasses. “Whoever packed this stuff intended for it to be kept safe.”
“Hopefully, that was out of reverence for the dead and not
a fear of the cursed items building energy the way Mr. Noire described.” The idea of so many objects infecting her, Myles, and Cheesecake all at once made her reconsider searching through the belongings. “Maybe we should do this at Madam de Galpion’s. She seemed to know what she was doing.”
“More than you might think. Speaking of which, I’ve got something for you that I retrieved from her shop. I can’t imagine it’s worth anything.” He reached into his jacket, which lay over the arm of the couch, and produced the deed.
Kendell stared at the technical description, trying to envision how the landmarks matched up to what she knew. “She didn’t happen to include a map, did she?”
“Sorry, that’s all that was tucked into Marie Laveau’s journal.” He proceeded to tell her about his adventure in Scratch and Sniff’s hidden closet of curses.
“By now, you’d think I’d be less surprised. I should have made the connection when she said her people had provided services to the Laroque family for generations. Clearly, that had nothing to do with her skills at whipping up perfumes.”
Myles played with the glasses. “I’m not sure I trust her. She was awfully chummy with Lance Laroque last time we were over there.”
Lance was an arrogant, self-entitled prick, but Kendell didn’t fear him like she did so many others of the family. “We need someone who knows what they’re doing. Between the two of us, we can identify which objects are cursed, but I don’t know what to do with them after that. The dangerous faction of the Laroque family isn’t going to sit around for long. They’ll want to meet with me soon about my friends. Maybe I can sneak in some cursed objects. No bodyguard is going to deprive me of my reading glasses.”
Myles nodded. “They’ll be useful weapons should things go bad. Madam de Galpion indicated you could change the energy of the curse. Do you have any idea of what she was talking about?”
She reached for the glasses. The magnification of the lenses was so slight she was able to put them on without blurring her vision. “You were the one who talked to her.”
He scanned the inventory sheet. “I guess we don’t have much of an option. There must be two dozen things on this list I’d consider possibilities for the curse. Maybe she can help modify the energy so it only obeys you.”
“I don’t want to haul this whole collection over to her. Just in case she isn’t on our side, pull out half of the objects to bring with us. I have to go to work if I have any hope of keeping my job.” She absentmindedly folded the glasses and tossed them into Fleurentine’s clothing-filled trunk. If nothing else, they’d make a cool addition to her Olympia Stain costume.
“Once I figure out what’s cursed and what isn’t, I’ll stop by the coffee shop. I’m not ready to let you out of my sight for long.” His wink made her feel warm deep inside.
Returning to work while her bandmates were still in danger felt like a cruel joke. But there was only so much she could do on her own. Constantly bothering Madam de Galpion during the day when she would normally be sleeping carried too much risk. They needed her on their side.
“You look like hell.” Her manager, William, never was much for diplomacy.
“It was a long, hard day yesterday. I didn’t get much sleep.”
He also wasn’t much for compassion. “Guy at the corner table has been asking for you since we opened. Don’t make it a long conversation.”
She repressed her snarky response. Jobs weren’t hard to get in New Orleans, but William had been pretty forgiving of her tardiness. Late nights playing with Polly and the girls at the Scratchy Dog made for painful mornings serving coffee. She grabbed the carafe of freshly brewed dark roast and headed for the table.
As the man set down his paper, she nearly threw the coffee in his face. His Laroque features and unruly hair were unmistakable. She recognized him as the one being groomed for greatness from the night before. “What do you want?”
“We’ve taken seven of your friends as hostages. All we want are the baron’s possessions. We’ll exchange one item for each person.”
She set the coffeepot on the table. “What if I can’t find seven things? After all, you spent considerable time trying to find that pipe tool.”
He wore his arrogance as casually as his off-center tie. “I’m not stupid, and you’re a smart girl. You found one object. Where there’s one, there’s bound to be more. I’m sure you won’t let your friends down.”
If he knew about the convent, he wasn’t going to admit it. Lance Laroque had supplied the lead to the nuns and Fleurentine Laurette-Malveaux’s chests. Lincoln’s ignorance meant either Lance really wasn’t working for that side of his family, or they were intent on keeping his cover story intact.
“How long do I have?” Kendell asked.
He folded up his paper and made to leave. “I’ll stop by each morning to check on your progress. If you haven’t located anything within a week, your friends will start suffering the consequences.”
As he left, she again weighed the need for the job against the satisfaction of dumping two liters of hot coffee down his back. Discretion won out, but that was largely due to the pot’s locking top.
She was still seething with anger when Myles strolled into the café. “What’s eating you?”
“Damn. I hoped my emotions weren’t that obvious. That guy from last night stopped by with their terms.” As he sat at the table near the window, she wished she could join him, but one look at William, and she knew her conversation with Myles would have to be in short segments between serving other customers. “I have to get back to work. My boss is all over my ass today.”
“Don’t mind me. I’ll just enjoy the show.” His smile as he checked out her bottom did little for her need to be responsible.
“Unless you want me to end up working at your bar as one of those cheap-hoe shot girls, you’d better stop distracting me.” Even though she knew better, she couldn’t help but give him a slight hip bump on her way back to the counter.
25
Madam de Galpion opened each cloth package with the care she might give a piece of priceless porcelain. As each was revealed, Kendell had the familiar disappointment she’d had as a young girl receiving underwear in her Christmas presents. Not one of the baron’s things looked in any way out of the ordinary. An ink pen, a pocket watch with chain, a monogramed cufflink—on and on, the items revealed just looked like plain ordinary things her father might have on him. She knew that had been Marie Laveau’s intention. Cursing such innocuous items would make them all the more dangerous. They wouldn’t be kept safe under glass because of their historical significance. These were meant to be in everyday use.
Madam de Galpion sat behind the battered wooden table in the small closet filled with journals. “This is dangerous.”
Kendell wondered why everyone felt the need to preface their actions with the warning. By that point, saying something was dangerous was like saying it was hot and humid in New Orleans. “We’re pretty well versed in the curse by now.”
“Getting hurt by one of these things is not my concern. Marie was a voodoo queen. At best, I’m a novice. To meddle with one of her curses is like trying to fix a Swiss watch that isn’t broken.”
Myles stood close to the door and away from the table. “You told me you could do it. What could go wrong?”
“That’s one of the things that concerns me. I don’t know. The last page of the curse refers to a missing journal. So it will be like me trying to fix that working watch without the full diagram of where everything goes and what it’s supposed to do.”
Kendell sat in the leather chair opposite Madam de Galpion. For the first time, the woman looked unsure of what she was doing.
“The segment of the Laroque family that wants to use the curse is sure to cover its tracks,” Kendell said. “As near as we can tell, that’s why Marilyn was murdered. She knew too much.”
Madam de Galpion ran her fingers over the curse diary as if she were trying to placate her ancestor. “And you’re ev
en farther along in understanding their plans, which makes you more of a target.”
“Not just us,” Myles said.
His veiled warning only made the voodoo priestess shake her head. “They wouldn’t dare come after me. Even though my skills are only rudimentary, Marie put in some protections for those following in her path. You don’t see many voodoo queens meet with suspicious deaths.”
Kendell was beginning to wish she still believed curses to be the stuff of fairy tales. “The Laroque family wants these things as payment for my friends’ return. I don’t want to see another accidental death like Marilyn Fontenot’s. I just want these things to go back to being just things.”
Madam de Galpion took Kendell’s hand. “Ma chère, these objects will always be dangerous. The best I can do is make them more treacherous in your hands than in others’. You will have power over the items. As intended by Madam Laveau, they will be most dangerous against the baron’s legitimate heirs, and only you will be able to activate the curse.”
Myles’s presence gave her comfort. “Can you explain what you mean by balance?”
“It’s similar to the physics theorem that for every action there is an opposite and equal reaction. One of the reasons Marie took such care to investigate a client’s history was to be sure her curses wouldn’t backfire. The wrong that necessitated the spell couldn’t be less damaging than the effects of the spell. In the case of Baron Malveaux, Marie believed the cumulative damage of the wronged parties whose families he’d forced into indentured servitude would more than balance out the generations of people who might be harmed by the curse.”
“But having those who the curse was aimed at use it against their own family to gain power must confuse the balance,” he said.
