by G A Chase
The heavy man in the worn jacket slammed the door closed after them. “I’m not a public library. I thought I made that clear on your last visit. This place survives on secrecy. Having people just saunter through the front door kind of defeats the purpose.”
Never before had Myles been so happy to have a member of the police with him. “Easy, Luther. There wasn’t time to make an appointment. I’ve been getting reports from the streets on some strange goings-on. You know I wouldn’t have brought Mr. Garrison if it weren’t important.”
“Your job, Joseph, is to make sure the streets stay quiet. This institution doesn’t interfere in daily activities. We’re here to take care of the paranormal remains. What happens out there is your problem, not mine.”
Myles was beginning to wonder if his questions were going to cause more harm than good. “I won’t be long. I just need some answers.”
“Everyone needs answers. Do I look like an information desk?”
Without meaning to, Myles looked at all the books that lined the walls. If anyone had the information he sought, it would be this man. “It’s not like the activities of the descendants of Marie Laveau can be searched on Google.”
That managed to shut down the old man’s ire. “Delphine de Galpion has been playing with her chemistry set again?”
“Events have gotten a little out of hand with the Laroque family. We’ve located more of the baron’s possessions. Madam de Galpion is modifying them—”
Mr. Noire cut him off. “Shit. Have a seat. This was the Malveaux curse?”
“Yes, sir.” Myles experienced both the relief of having Mr. Noire finally take him seriously and the terror that Madam de Galpion was playing with fire and that Kendell was the most likely to get burned.
The man searched his ledgers for a moment, pulled a thick leather book from the shelf, and pressed a button on his intercom. “Get me item M29848 from the north wing. I checked it in a few weeks ago.” He turned back to Myles. “You wouldn’t happen to have one of the modified items with you?”
Kendell had entrusted him with the finished objects, though that had been only to keep her from being continually bombarded by the energy. He might be betraying her trust, but it was for her own good. He pulled out the cufflink. “This was the first thing she worked on.” Was it really only less than two weeks ago?
Mr. Noire opened the ledger and started making some notes similar to what he’d done when they’d turned over the pipe tool.
“I can’t let you have that, not yet at least. The Laroque family is threatening Kendell. Unless she turns over seven items to them, well, things won’t go well.”
“Have you secured all seven items?” Mr. Noire tried to hide his surprise, but he didn’t have the greatest poker face. Myles could tell Kendell was in more trouble than she suspected.
He still wasn’t completely sure who Mr. Noire served. Myles had come for information on Madam de Galpion, not to give up his resources. “We have them located.”
“I won’t ask where you found them. Little is known about this curse because so far the objects have been kept out of the public’s hands. But my research into Baron Archibald Baptiste Malveaux revealed some disturbing details—enough so that we may need to become more active in securing his former belongings.”
Myles wasn’t sure he wanted more bad news. “All I care about is Kendell. Madam de Galpion’s sessions are draining her. Each time she comes home, she’s filled with this strange power. She says she’s controlling it. After a few hours, it dies down, but I’m worried.” Typically, those hours were filled with sex, but the two men didn’t need to know about his budding relationship with Kendell.
“What is it you want to know?”
He wondered if either Mr. Noire or Lieutenant Cazenave had the answer. “Can we trust Madam de Galpion, or is she secretly working for the Laroque family?”
Mr. Noire took off his green-tinted glasses and set them on his desk. “Delphine de Galpion serves the memory of her ancestor. That allegiance sometimes makes her an ally and sometimes an enemy of the same client.”
As Myles feared, it was no answer at all. “What’s her connection to the Laroque family? Lance Laroque seemed to have some leverage over her.”
“His family has been a client of her ancestors for generations.”
A thought finally congealed for Myles. “Was the baron a client of Marie Laveau?”
“Now you’re starting to think like I do. Very little in the paranormal world is as straightforward as it first seems.”
Mr. Noire’s secretary entered, carrying the rough-hewn wooden box Myles remembered as containing the pipe tool. The man waited until she left before carefully opening the small chest and unwrapping the golden cylindrical tool from the cloth bag. Flipping over the blotter on his desk, Mr. Noire revealed a chart similar to the lines and markings on the mat Myles’s mother used for cutting fabric. He set the pipe tool on one set of intersecting lines and the cufflink on another. “We each have our own preference for detecting foreign energies. Professor Yates has his contraptions, Delphine de Galpion her fascination with smells, and Joseph and I have our glasses.” He put on his green-tinted glasses and focused on the two objects.
“What do you see?”
Lieutenant Cazenave motioned for Myles to stay quiet and whispered, “Those specs let him see the truth.”
Myles remembered the lieutenant wearing very similar glasses when they’d first met at the police station.
“There’s definitely a change. The pipe tool’s energy signature is very directed, like it’s taking in power around it and focusing it into an angry beam. The cufflink is more like a shotgun with pellets spread over a wide area, but like a shotgun, it’s only deadly at close range. Whoever tries to use it would find herself drained from the exercise. I’d have to say whatever Madam de Galpion is doing is making the objects less dangerous to others but more dangerous to someone seeking to use the power.”
“What would be the cumulative effect of Madam de Galpion using Kendell to make that change?” Lieutenant Cazenave asked.
“It would be like exercising. Each time at the gym wears the body out, but once it has recovered, it’s stronger than before.”
* * *
Lance Laroque was not a hard man to find. Unambitious and with enough family money to never need a job, he was a frequent visitor to Bourbon Street’s bars and strip clubs. He might even have been someone Myles would have hung out with pre-Kendell. Now, of course, he was the enemy, and not just because of his name. Lance hitting on her at the Mardi Gras gala shouldn’t have pissed off Myles, but it had. Even though Myles and Kendell hadn’t been dating at the time, Lance should have known that a beautiful woman like her wouldn’t be at such an event alone. Myles had no doubt Lance had seen them together and waited until Myles had gone to fetch some drinks before making his move. The whole approach seemed slimy—just like Lance.
Much as he didn’t like the guy, Myles was even less impressed by his choice of meeting establishments. Your Father’s Strip Club had a sign over the door that read, “Our girls excel at daddy issues.” The advertisement made him feel as though a layer of disgust were drizzled over him as he set foot in the club.
He didn’t have anything against strippers. Plenty of them stopped by the bar after their shifts, and some he even considered friends, but he’d seldom returned the favor of visiting them at work. He was a service worker, just as they were, and he preferred to be seen as such. Allowing them to perform their acts on him crossed a line from friend to john.
The clientele was older than the frat boys that frequented the clubs on the far end of Bourbon Street, but respectability didn’t always accompany age. Entering alone made him feel desperate. As he began to wonder if this was such a good idea, a woman snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “About time you came in for a visit.”
He recognized her from the snake tattoo that ran from her elbow to the back of her hand. “I’m just here for a meeting
, Josie.”
She turned him to face her and gave him a forced pout. “The girls will be so disappointed.”
He wanted to tell her to knock it off. He could respect the woman with the five-year-old son at home and a car that was constantly breaking down who stopped by for a rum and coke after work. This made-up persona of a young girl in a woman’s body wasn’t a turn-on, at least not for him. Looking around the club, he noticed more than one gray-haired gentleman who might have differed with his assessment.
“Can I get a quiet table? I’m waiting for Lance Laroque.”
She slipped back to the woman he knew as easily as she would have fastened her bra. “Of course. I’ll grab you an Abita Amber for your wait. He’s upstairs with one of the girls.” She leaned in so she wouldn’t be overheard. “He never lasts long.”
Myles chuckled more at being a confidante than the joke. “I’m in no hurry to see him.” Probably like every girl in the club.
The narrow building meant every table was at a bill-tossing distance from the stage, but in the back corner, at least the blaring house speakers were far enough away to allow Myles to hear his own thoughts. In spite of Josie’s prediction, he’d finished half of his beer before he spotted Lance stumbling down the red-velvet stairs with the support of an exasperated-looking long-legged blonde.
Josie caught the pair before the woman had a chance to dump Lance at the first available chair. The woman looked over at Myles. He produced a ten-dollar bill and waved it at the harried-looking performer. Better to have her bring him over here than go fetch him myself. She favored him with a smile to go along with her nod of understanding.
He pushed the chair out so the woman could help Lance sit. She wasn’t very subtle in her unloading of her burden. “Thanks, mister. Josie says you’re all right, but if you stop by again, leave this one at home.”
He didn’t see much point in explaining the situation. It wasn’t like he intended on becoming a regular.
Lance looked to be having issues with his equilibrium as he leaned from side to side in the chair, seeking an upright position. Being drunk at eleven at night wasn’t unusual on Bourbon Street, but most patrons of the strip club looked to be staying sober enough to remember the next day what had happened to the money missing from their wallets.
Josie brought over a tall glass of water and another beer. Lance reached for the beer. But whatever he’d been drinking earlier, the beer seemed to be diluting the alcohol in his blood as he regained some semblance of coherent speech. “I think that girl really likes me.”
Myles felt like he was getting an in-person example of the after-hours joke between strippers sitting at his bar. “I’m certain that she does.”
Lance pointed his beer at the blonde, who quickly turned her back rather than make eye contact. “You don’t know. Her name’s not really Amber. It’s Megan. She told me. Not many girls will give you their real name.”
Myles knew better. Exotic dancers had layer after layer of secrets they’d reveal to make their customers feel like they were getting to know the real woman. It was all a con. Anyone who entered a strip club and didn’t know that was a fool. “I was hoping to talk to you about your family. But I see you’re a little too into the nightlife for a reasonable conversation.”
“Don’t be an asshole. You think I’d tell you anything sober?” He waved his empty beer bottle at Myles before raising it higher to get Josie’s attention for another. “Ask your questions.”
With Lance in such a marinated state, Myles didn’t see much need for subtlety. “Where do you stand with the section of your family that’s seeking higher political office?”
“Blue bloods. I hate ’em. Like having money and power in New Orleans isn’t enough? Who the fuck would want to live in DC, anyway? Tell me one person who has used power wisely. No one.” At least inebriated he didn’t sound like he was lying.
“But they have influence over the rest of the family, don’t they? You must be a little concerned about crossing them.”
“Arrogant asshats. They only look at the opponent ahead, not behind. They defeated the rest of the family a generation ago. Now it’s full speed ahead against their political foes.”
Myles took a long drink of his beer to calm his agitation. “The baron’s curse is only useful against members of the family. Why would they want the objects if they no longer consider the rest of the family a threat?”
Lance began to look like he was going to pass out. Myles understood. Without a woman’s feigned interest, being in a room with nearly naked women in other men’s laps was like being the last one picked for a sports team.
“You think too small.” Lance pulled out a clump of wadded-up twenties and tossed them on the table. “I’m getting another lap dance. Help yourself to one if you like before you leave. Your questions bore me.”
Even with a hundred dollars spread across the table, it took a while before a girl with strawberry-blond hair put her arm across Lance’s shoulders. “You looking to have a little fun?”
He stood with considerably more poise than he’d sat. Before he left, he leaned in to Myles. “Nothing is ever what it seems with my family.”
32
Myles hated arguing with Kendell. He didn’t mind the conflict—that was inevitable in any relationship. Fighting with girlfriends had a way of clearing the air and helping the union grow stronger. But there was simply no winning with Kendell. First of all, she was almost always right. That did little for his self-esteem. Then, even when he knew he had the high ground, her arguments were so well thought out he often ended up agreeing with her just based on her logic. But when her safety was at stake, he didn’t have an option.
“We’ve never been sure where Madam de Galpion’s allegiance lies. She originally hid her connection to voodoo, pretending she was just analyzing your link to the pipe tool. How hard would it have been to pull out Marie Laveau’s journals when we first met her?”
Kendell paced in front of the large windows of her apartment in her loose-fitting nightshirt, which wasn’t helping Myles keep his thoughts organized. “Who wouldn’t want to keep that kind of history a secret? I’m not saying she’s not mysterious. She is. But I can feel my power growing over these cursed objects. Whatever she’s doing is working. Isn’t that all that matters?”
“Not to me.” Looking down at Cheesecake on the ottoman, he knew he wasn’t alone. “You’re only looking at one paranormal layer. If she can add a component to the curse—your power to control it—why couldn’t Madam Laveau have added other aspects to the curse we don’t know about?”
“You’re being paranoid. Delphine showed me the curse diary. Madam Laveau was very thorough in her write-ups.”
Having Kendell refer to Madam de Galpion by her first name only increased Myles’s apprehension. “She said there were missing journals, and some part of this curse referred to one of them. That has to make you a little worried.”
“You’re doing enough worrying for the both of us. I’ve only got two more objects to get under my control. Then I can confront the Laroques, and this will all be over.”
“You can’t honestly believe they’re just going to leave you alone.”
She finally sat down next to Cheesecake. “Why not? They can’t use the curse. If they try, they’ll find out it doesn’t work—at least for them. I know the pipe tool killed Marilyn, but even that event they could discount as having been an accident. The Laroques are too busy securing their power to spend much time chasing down curses. Once they see the silly old stories aren’t a threat, they’ll move on to their bigger agenda.”
He felt his resolve slipping under her argument. “I’m just worried about you. The sessions with Madam de Galpion aren’t healthy—and I don’t just mean the convulsions. There’s an aggression you unleash when we make love after you see her. I’ve noticed the same determination in your music. The sweet, complex phrases are replaced by raw force. It’s like you’re exorcising a demon.”
She put her han
d on his arm. “You keep me grounded. Music is the only other thing in my life that stabilizes me as much as you do. Just two more sessions, and I’ll never set foot in Delphine’s shop again.”
Her words reminded him of a drug addict promising to change. “Even when you’re done with her and have turned over the objects to the Laroques, there will still be the change she created in you.”
“What do you propose?” Her cross tone hurt, but it also indicated he was getting through at last.
“I want to see, firsthand, what’s happening to you. We’ve taken the spiritual journey before with the pipe tool. I want to do the same with one of the things that’s been modified.” His proposal was a long shot. Feeling the object getting cursed, and then experiencing the modification, should only confirm what he’d been told by Mr. Noire. His real objective was to connect to Kendell so deeply he’d hopefully be able to tell what was happening inside her soul.
She didn’t hesitate in pulling out the latest item she’d worked on. “If that’s all you wanted, you should have just asked. I’ve been dreaming about taking another spiritual trip with you.”
He would have been happy to make it only about Kendell, but what was being done to her was only half of the problem. “Madam de Galpion has said she would like to experience this metaphysical crossing. I barely know how to take you along without losing my sense of identity, but I have to feel her motivation firsthand. With the three of us as one diving into the curse, I should find the answers I’m seeking.”
Kendell took a moment to consider the ramifications. Myles wasn’t surprised. The sharing of each other’s souls had created a unique bond between the two of them, and adding someone else could too easily feel like a sexual threesome.
“I feel like the linchpin that holds you to this family curse I’m forced to carry,” she said. “I don’t want to drag you down with me.”
