Immortals of New Orleans Box Set (Books 1-4)

by Kym Grosso

  “What’s wrong?” Samantha watched Luca pace, visibly agitated.

  “What’s wrong is that when we were attacked and I was taken, there were needles all over the floor. It’s a fairly good guess that someone has my blood. If the same person who took my blood gets the periapt, they could control me, according to what we just read,” he said, piqued.

  “Okay, maybe it’s true, maybe it isn’t. We’ll get it back. We’ll destroy it,” Samantha promised. Hoped.

  “What I can’t figure out is why another vampire would want it? How does he even know about it? According to this notation, only a witch can use it.” He dragged his fingers through his hair.

  “I don’t know, Luca. But we’ll get to it first and then we’ll get rid of it. If we can’t destroy it, we’ll take it out into the sea, and dispose of it there. We can do this.” She didn’t want to admit it to Luca but she was scared too. She prayed that she’d left a clue to its whereabouts.

  “Well, thank God you took it from Asgear. And now that we know what it does, we know why someone wants it. We’d better get going to find out what’s at the Maid of Orleans. I sure as hell hope this leads us to the amulet. We also now need to find out who took my blood.” Luca would be damned before he let anyone control his actions. He knew better than anyone that he was a lethal killing machine when he needed to be. And so did the vampire who was trying to get the periapt. Maybe that vampire was working with a witch? He couldn’t focus on the myriad scenarios right now. The only thing that was important was locating the Hematilly Periapt, and he hoped the Maid of Orleans would be his savior.

  Chapter Twelve

  The afternoon sunlight glinted off the shiny golden metal. There stood Joan of Arc with her armor and steed in Orleans. Proudly displayed atop a large stone base, she sat surrounded by landscaping and pavement. Tourists busily shopped on both sides of the wedged streets, oblivious to her history or potential.

  “Well, I’m not sure what I was doing over here. It’s a couple of blocks from the club. I don’t think I could’ve escaped to this statue on my way there. Maybe I came here on my way out of the club?” Samantha estimated.

  “Maybe you did. And maybe Asgear lived around here and that’s why you came this way. Maybe you stopped here first before you planted the clue at the club? There’s a lot of vegetation in and around the statue. I brought some tools with me. They’re in the back seat. I’ll grab the clippers and hand shovel just in case we need them. Sydney knows we’re coming here today, so the NOLA PD are expecting folks to be digging around it.” Luca got out of the SUV, opened the trunk and picked up his toolbox.

  Samantha was out of the car and across the street ahead of him. She should have worn jeans, not shorts, she thought to herself. Bushes and bugs. Just great. Stepping into the brush, she began to look for something, anything that would lead them to the location of the periapt.

  “I wouldn’t have had a lot of time. Whatever I did, it had to be fast. Asgear would’ve seen me run over here across the street. It’s gotta be in or around the brush, maybe over near the cannons.” She broke through the branches, searching around near the ornamental artillery that sat in the shrubbery.

  Instead of jumping directly into the brush, Luca examined it for evidence of damage such as broken branches or torn off leaves. As he rounded the statue to the front, he noticed the landscaping was not grown as high in one of the corners. Reaching down over the embankment, he pulled off a leaf that had been slightly ripped. Looking up, he silently thanked the saint. With caution, he climbed up into the bushes. Something was off with the ground near the concrete barrier which held the landscaping. Luca stomped his foot down on the dirt. Hollow?

  “Samantha, over here.” Luca knelt down and began pushing aside dirt and rocks until he saw black. He rapped his knuckles on the hard surface. Metal. “Now, what’s this? It could be a sewer lid, but I don’t know. It looks more like a door of some kind.”

  Samantha trudged over, reaching the spot Luca was clearing. Something small bounced off her feet, catching her eyes. She knelt down and picked it up. A rock? No, the dark metal covered in dirt was perfectly round.

  “Hey Luca, look at this.” Rubbing the object, she examined her prize. “What is it? It almost looks like a golf ball.” She placed it into Luca’s dusty hands.

  “It feels smooth, but look at its color; it seems to be made out of pewter.” Brushing off the crusted earth, he held it up to the sunlight. “There’s an inscription. Something I’ve never seen before. Maybe an ancient language? Possibly Sanskrit. Now what does this do? That’s the question.” He rolled the small globe in his hands and pocketed it. He shrugged, continuing to clear the ground. “Well, whatever it does, I have a feeling we’re about to find out soon. Ah, what do we have here?”

  Luca returned to his original task, fully exposing the black metal trapdoor that had been hidden underneath the boscage. Slipping his fingers around a small loop handle, he pulled up. Dust and dank air bellowed upward. He coughed.

  Samantha carefully leaned over, taking a peek at the dingy cavity. She was full of questions, nervously anticipating that they would need to descend into it. “What the hell? There’s a ladder on the side here. Where does this go? Hey wait, New Orleans doesn’t have tunnels, does it? Don’t they have a high water table? Even the cemeteries are built above ground because of it.” As she was talking through the feasibility of the tunnel, she remembered the underground prison Asgear had created. “Magic? Maybe he used magic to keep the water out, but how’s it possible it’s still here?”

  “Not sure. It hasn’t rained at all over the past two weeks. Anyhow, no use worrying about how it got here. Here’s a flashlight. You ready to go in?” he raised an eyebrow at her; a corner of his mouth lifted in a slight grin. He dug out a stake and a few other items from his tool bag and pocketed them.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be. But I swear, I’m going to freak out if I see any giant city rats in there. I hear y’all got rats the size of cats down here.” She shivered at the thought of running into one of the furry little beasts.

  “Darlin’, now you know you’ll be safe with me. Besides,” he joked, “the nutria lives out in the bayou. Come on now, I’ll go down first.”

  Samantha followed Luca down the metal ladder into the tunnel, cursing the day she’d decided to go to a computer conference in the big easy. Shit. Revolting tunnel. Excrement and other unknown foul smells. Rats. Possible Spiders. Roaches. Ew. Who cares about a vampire trying to kill me for an amulet when I could be eaten by some kind of creepy crawling critter?

  Halfway down the ladder, she heard a splash. Samantha flicked on her flashlight and saw Luca step into a few inches of brown, unidentified liquid. She froze.

  “Luca, I don’t know if I can do this. What’s in that water?”

  “Not sure, but you can do this. Come on, I’ll carry you. Get on my back,” he ordered.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, still not moving.

  “Yes. We need to go find this damn amulet. Both our lives are on the line. Come on, I’m ready for you.”

  Samantha released her hands from the rung and put her arms around Luca’s neck. Once she had a firm grip, she held tight and wrapped her legs around his waist. The walls of the tunnel looked relatively modern, yet she knew Asgear had probably held it with magic. And now that the magic was atrophied, the walls were leaking. She prayed they would hold, uncertain of their safety. Within one hundred feet, the tunnel abruptly turned left, and they began a long journey into the darkness. The flashlight illuminated barely far enough for Samantha to see where they were going. She assumed Luca had night vision, because he appeared to have no problem walking even when the light flickered.

  Samantha glanced over her shoulder; nothing but blackness. Fear blanketed her as she heard a noise behind her. “What’s that?” she whispered.

  “It’s okay. It’s just a tiny creature. He won’t hurt you. You’ll be all right. We probably don’t have much further to go,” he cajoled.r />
  She rolled her eyes. What was it about men that they didn’t mind little beasts with tails? After walking for over fifteen minutes, they finally came upon another metal ladder leading upward.

  “A ladder,” Luca observed. He sidled up next to it so that Samantha could reach it. “Looks like this is the end of the road. Okay, we’re going up. Can you get on? Here, let me get you closer to it so you don’t fall.”

  “Got it, thanks.” Samantha easily grasped the metal rungs, and caught a lower one with her feet. She held tight, knowing what lay below her.

  “Okay, let me pass. I’ll go up first. Looks like there’s a different kind of hatch on this one. Look down and protect your eyes. I’m goin’ to force it upward. Don’t come up until I say it’s safe, okay?”

  Samantha nodded, curled her head into her shoulder and put a hand over her face. A rush of sunlight and dust beamed onto them both as Luca easily removed the circular cover. He began his ascent and peered over the rim.

  A large, spacious courtyard awaited him. Climbing up onto the patio, he scanned his surroundings. Sensing no humans or supernaturals, he called down to Samantha. “You can come on up. All’s safe. We’re in a courtyard. Well-kept from what I can see.”

  A decorative three-tiered fountain stood in the center of the courtyard. It was surrounded by several potted impatiens, hibiscus, palm and banana trees. The old red brick patio contrasted with the white clay pottery.

  “This is beautiful,” Samantha commented. “I love the fountain. Do you think Asgear lived here?”

  “Not sure. He could have rented the property. But still, if it belongs to him, then he did it under an assumed name. There’s nothing on the records of him owning or staying anywhere else but the warehouse.” Luca was not deceived by the immaculately cared for garden. He felt something was off. “Samantha, be careful. Stay close. We’ll sweep the courtyard, but I’m guessing that whatever we’re looking for isn’t out here in the open. Unfortunately, I think we’ll find what we seek through that door over there.” He pointed to the robin’s-egg-blue door that led into the home.

  After a thorough but unsuccessful exploration, Luca and Samantha readied themselves to enter the house. As they stood outside, a feeling of consternation swept over Samantha. She stared up at the home, and examined the exterior for any signs of overt destruction. On appearance alone, it held a warm façade, welcoming to all. Looking beyond the surface, a menacing sense of foreboding rained down from above. She might not have been psychic, but she clearly perceived the trickling damnation emanating from this structure. Every cell in her body told her to stay outside.

  Anything could be in that house. A trap? A latent spell? It was true that Asgear was dead. But Samantha knew for certain that magic didn’t always die with its creator. Magic was a living energy which waxed, waned and only sometimes died. It carried with it the good and evil for which it was intended. She knew it was waiting. What ‘it’ was remained to be seen. She steeled her nerves, determined to conquer her fear.

  Luca guardedly turned the knob and entered. “It’s unlocked.”

  A tidy kitchen located in the back of the home was decorated in red and black tiles with a fifties style chrome and white Formica kitchen set. Quiet. Cold. A long, narrow hallway led to the front entrance. As they explored the small home, Samantha couldn’t help noticing the lack of furnishing or décor. The hallway led to a small living space which only contained a flat screen TV and a recliner that looked as if it had seen better days. The threadbare tan fabric was frayed, and spots of foam peeked through the tears. Stark white walls gave way to cream roller shades. Yet there was no other evidence of someone living in the home: no remains of food, dishes, glasses or newspapers.

  “Whoever lived here sure was a minimalist,” Samantha conjectured as she followed Luca upstairs.

  “Yeah, that’s an understatement. It’s got fewer furnishings than a cheap motel. Hate to ask you this, Samantha, but are you sure you don’t remember being here? Asgear must have kept you here at some point for you to have left these clues.” Luca rounded another chalky-walled hallway.

  “I don’t remember being here at all. But this doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like there’s a maleficent presence that’s ingrained into every pore of this house. And there are no bedrooms up here, except that one. Look.” She pointed to a single brown wooden door. “It’s the only one up here? How can that be? This is so strange. I get that this place is small but you’d think there was more than one room.”

  “Perhaps someone remodeled to combine the rooms?” The oak door was locked with a large nickel padlock. “It’s locked, but not for long. Stand back, Samantha. Let’s see what’s behind door number one,” he joked.

  “What?”

  “Monty Hall. Let’s Make a Deal?” He shot her a sly grin. “Okay, here we go.”

  Samantha stood with her back against the wall, nervously watching Luca. She prayed the periapt was inside this room. She felt anxious, as though she was watching someone open a prank can of mints, waiting for the giant plastic snake to pop out at them.

  Luca pulled a thin metal paper clip out of his jeans pocket. He straightened it then bent it back and forth until it snapped into two pieces. Shaping each piece into an “L”, they could be used as a pick and tension wrench. He held them up and smiled. “Always prepared. If it were night, I’d just break the damn lock but the sun has me too weak to do it by hand. Here we go.”

  “By weak, do you mean human? Good thing you are quite the boy scout,” she joked.

  Luca grasped the lock with both hands, inserted and applied pressure with the wrench and picked at it until he heard it pop. Jerking the lock off in a single movement, he grabbed the antiqued glass knob and turned, pushing the door wide open. He felt around for a light switch but found none. He flicked on his flashlight and shone it into the darkened space. Settling a comforting hand on Samantha’s shoulder, he tried to ease her fear. “It’s okay. Nothing living is in here.”

  Samantha was curious to see what was inside. She pressed up against Luca’s back, peering in from behind him. A large, darkened, rectangular room stood before them. Its walls and ceilings were draped in a black velvety fabric. The wooden planks had been painted a lacquered cardinal red. Elaborate candle wall sconces adorned the far wall; burnt candle wax splattered the floor. On the other side of the room, a metal ring was attached to the seam along the wall and the ceiling. Attached to the ring were long steel chains and two metal cuffs. Evidence of a kept captive were scattered across the floor; clothing, a plate, glass, remains of stale bread. On the farthest wall, opposite the entrance, an ornately carved circular wall hanging glowed in the distance.

  “What the fuck?” Luca’s words trailed off on seeing the entire room, realizing it had been used to shackle and hold a prisoner. Samantha.

  Samantha turned on her flashlight and ran to the pile of clothing near the chains. “Oh my God, Luca. My clothes. These are mine.”

  It started to settle in that she had been here. Stripped of her clothes. Enslaved. She didn’t want to cry but tears pricked her eyes. Even though she couldn’t remember what had happened, she knew he’d done something to her. Gathering the filthy dress into her hands, she fell to her knees and began to sob.

  “I was here,” she whispered through small cries. “Oh my God. What did he do to me? Why?”

  Luca ran over to her. Kneeling down next to Samantha, he put his arm around her, running his hand up and down her arm. “It’s okay, he can’t hurt you anymore. He’s dead. It’s just an empty room with memories that are best forgotten. You’re safe with me. You’ll be all right. Come on, now. Let it go.” He took the dress from her hands, and placed it back on the shiny red floor. Pulling Samantha to her feet, Luca lovingly embraced her. “You’re okay, now. Remember why we’re here?” He kissed the top of her head.

  Rubbing the tears from her eyes, Samantha released Luca. “I’m sorry. It’s just so hard not remembering. It feels like a dream. A ni
ghtmare. Seeing my clothes just makes it real. I hope that son of a bitch rots in hell,” she said, regaining her composure. “Okay, I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

  “Over here,” he said, pointing to the large circle. “It’s carved with ancient markings. And look here in the center. A divot.” He ran his fingers into the concave groove.

  “Yes, a divot that looks like it might be the exact spot for our little golf ball. Do you have it?”

  “Here, hold my flashlight. Shine it over there.” He took the rounded pewter ball and held it up to the hanging. “Well, it looks like it might fit but I’m not sure how it would stay in there. It’s not deep enough to put the entire ball into.”

  Yet as Luca placed the ball up into the indentation, there was an audible click. Samantha and Luca stepped back as the ball unfolded; eight pieces of metal pierced out from its internal structure, holding it securely against the carving. As if grabbing onto spider legs, Luca reached up and rotated the orb. A slight whoosh of air escaped as the wooden hanging hinged open, revealing the satin interior of a vault.

  Samantha started to jump up and down in excitement, as she caught sight of a smooth, scarlet stone encased within the small repository. The Hematilly Periapt. It didn’t look nearly as spectacular as she’d expected. A single, brick-red teardrop-shaped rock hung from brown sisal twine. It was exactly as described, yet nothing appeared magical to the eye. Unassuming, yet people were willing to kill for it.

  Luca held the highly coveted gem up by its cord, regarding the amulet. “So this little baby is what’s causing us all the trouble? I’m relieved to have it, especially knowing there’s some freak out there with my blood,” he exclaimed. “Would you like to do the honors?”

  Samantha gladly took the periapt into her hands; she had no intentions of letting it go. Rubbing it between her fingers, she dreamt of the day she’d be free again.