by Mina Carter
Kill Leon or die trying.
Someone knocked and the door cracked tentatively open revealing Laveau. “I can use spells to strengthen the roofs and walls of this structure but I can’t control the flood waters. Those are beyond my power.” She avoided my eyes as she explained. “The levees must have been breached. The water’s already up to the front porch and it’s rising fast.” He got up and glared at me over his shoulder as he put on a pair of pants that left me cowering and wishing I were already dead.
He stalked out without a warning leaving me without a guard or restraints. Apparently he had decided that I was too damaged or too weak to be a threat.
I levered myself up on arms that trembled, a wave of dizziness crashing over me from just that small effort. My bones felt as if they had been turned into ash, but I avoided looking down to assess. I couldn’t bear to see the evidence of what he’d done to me.
Set it to the side, I told myself. Focus. Find something to use as a weapon. Now’s your only chance to pay him back. To hurt the one who had taken everything that mattered from me.
Minutes later, Leon reappeared, but I was ready by then.
“We need to move to a new location, my pet.” His eyes narrowed when he realized I’d moved from the bed to the window seat. “What are you doing perched over there with the window open and all that nasty rain water soaking you?” He stalked toward me, eyes aglow again with that terrible light. “Much as it saddens me, we don’t have time for any more fun and games.”
Heart fluttering with fright, wishing I had never lived a moment beyond the last breath of the man I loved, I tightened my fingers on the contoured grip of the dark blade he’d used to kill Shane. How careless of him to have left it behind on the nightstand.
His gaze narrowed to slits. “You’re scared and shivering.” His tongue darted out reminding me of Z-20’s forked one. He licked his thick lips. “Delicious. Just like last night.” He kneeled down like I was a frightened child and reached for me.
I didn’t want those hands that had singed my flesh touching me again. I brought my arms up and over my head, aiming the knife point for his eye, remembering from self-defense classes that it was supposed to be a vulnerable target. His arm shot out and deflected me, but not before I managed to puncture the skin below it.
He hissed like Shane had and staggered back. “You bitch.” He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. “You’ll pay dearly for marring my beauty with that blade.” He grabbed my wrist, and I cried out from the burn, but he didn’t force me to drop it. Instead, he stared at me with those evil glowing eyes, wrapped his fingers around mine, and plunged the blade into my abdomen.
I screamed.
“Hurts doesn’t it?” And then he twisted the knife inside me.
I felt it in my spine. The pain stole my breath away.
“Don’t worry.” He yanked the blade out and stroked my cheek as I crumpled. He touched me as if he were my lover and the things he was saying to me were sweet nothings. “We’ll do it again,” he grinned insanely. “On the other side.”
“I don’t think so,” I whispered weakly hoping Marie had done her job flawlessly. I turned my head away from him, leaned backward through the open window and dropped. My broken body sliced through the wind and the rain on its way down. I felt everything fade away as the water enveloped me just like in my vision. As my life winked out forever, I formed a silent prayer that I might see Shane again soon.
PART TWO
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
Chapter 12
Our life always expresses the result of our dominant thoughts. - Soren Kierkegaard
Billy
What was the freaking deal?
It seemed as though there were more people inside the Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans than there’d been at my sold out concert last night in Tulsa. It was probably going to take me longer to navigate my way through the masses than I’d spent on the commuter flight itself.
It was January for effing sake. The holidays were over. Too early for Mardi Gras revelers. I just didn’t get it. It was all I could do to keep from snarling my frustration out loud.
Just then a young bubble gum popping teenage girl did a double take when I passed.
Shit.
I swiveled the brim of my red ball cap the right way around so it would shadow my features better. I slid my polarized sunglasses higher up on my face.
Maybe I should’ve listened to Arla. He’d suggested I bring along a security detail before he’d gone off on some mysterious errand he claimed demanded his immediate attention. But I was as sick and tired of having an escort everywhere I went as I was of waking up in a different city every morning.
This was supposed to be my two week break from it all. My time alone to unwind and recharge before I had to climb back on that forty-five foot tour bus and start it all over again after Mardi Gras. I only hoped the limo driver would be waiting at the curb as promised.
“Mr. Blade?”
“Yes?” I turned around to find a very pregnant woman holding a little boy’s hand. He peered up at me uncertainly. I tempered my previous irritation. “That’s me all right. What can I do for you?”
She pulled her son in front of her. He was cute, probably eight or nine years old tops, blue eyes, blond hair. He looked enough like me that he could’ve been my own. My heart squeezed tight at the painful reminder of all that I’d lost. “My son’s a big fan of yours. He started taking guitar lessons this year because of you. Would you mind giving him your autograph?”
“No problem.” She handed me their boarding pass. “Do you have a pen?”
“Oh, yes. Of course. Silly me.” While she dug around in her bag I set my carry-on bag and my guitar case on the ground and knelt down so I was at eye level with the kid.
“What’s your name,” I asked him.
“Hunter Price.”
“What’s your favorite song of mine, Hunter?” His mom handed down a pen.
Hunter chewed on his lips, pondering his answer. “’Through It All’.”
I swallowed hard. That was the first one I’d written after the accident. “Well, Hunter Price.” I stood and scrawled my signature on the paper along with some of the words from the bridge. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, sir,” he said politely when I handed it to him.
“Ma’am.” I dipped the brim of my cap. “Y’all have a nice day.”
I jogged past a serpentine arrangement of leather couches, down a set of stairs and past the baggage claim to exit the airport. Along with a heavy dose of exhaust fumes, the humidity immediately hit me.
“Mr. Blade.” A man with a friendly face, dark wavy hair and olive skin tone approached. He sported a blue blazer with his name on a tag along with the logo of the limo company below it. “How was your flight?”
“I’ve got no complaints.” I smiled back at him. He had the type of open demeanor that had me casting aside my usual wariness when initially meeting people. He seemed about ten years older than I was and a couple of inches shorter. “How’s your day going?” I double checked his nametag, “Tony Farragamo?”
“I’ve got no complaints, either. Every day’s a gift, a friend of mine always used to say. I’m grateful to be walking out this one.” He held out his hand. “Can I carry something for you? The limo’s parked in the lot. The airport doesn’t allow pickups at the curb anymore since 9-11.”
“I’m fine. The carry-on’s light and I’m used to hauling the guitar around. I’d feel wrong without it,” I explained, matching my longer strides to his as we crossed the street. Inside the garage he led me to a shiny Hummer limo parked horizontally across several spaces.
“Nice ride.” I slid my stuff inside the trunk and he closed the hatch before opening the rear passenger door for me.
After I was settled inside the interior that smelled of leather cleaner and pine scented air freshener, he slid into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, the Hummer’s got a little too much space for just one guy with only two pieces of luggage.” He grinned good naturedly at me in the rearview mirror. “But I’ve got to swing by and pick up a group of thirteen year old girls for a birthday party right after I drop you off, so I figured, why the hell not?” He shrugged.
I stretched out my legs, absently sifted through the colorful collection of tour bracelets on my left wrist, and stifled a yawn. “How long you been doing this gig?” I asked after watching him proficiently steer the long vehicle out of the garage.
He honked at someone who’d cut him off before answering. “I started the company about nine years ago.”
“Impressive. Owning your own company when you’re so young, I mean. You got other cars as nice as this one?”
“Yeah, a few.” A shadow flickered in his gaze as he eyed me in the rear view mirror. “Wouldn’t have been able to afford the startup costs if Chantelle hadn’t loaned me the money.”
“Pretty name. Sounds French.” Another yawn escaped. “She your girlfriend?”
“No. Just a friend. I used to work in her ice cream shop until she sold the place. She didn’t have the heart for it anymore since she lost her granddaughter during Katrina.”
“I’m sorry.” I could certainly understand that. I was all too familiar with that kind of pain. “That must’ve been rough.”
“Yeah, she’s a tough lady though. Anyhow…” He seemed to lose his train of thought as he sped up to zip into an open space on the freeway that looked like a parking lot. “Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here a while. I suggest you sit back and get comfortable. Even on a good day it takes quite a while to get downtown from the airport. You look like you could use a couple of good winks. If you’d like to catch a nap I can wake you when we get there.”
“Thanks, I’m gonna have to take you up on that.” I closed my eyes. Yawned again. “It was a long one last night.” The show. The afterparty with the VIP’s and then the one with the crew to celebrate the end of the tour. And then after all that a couple of rounds with a smokin’ red head.
Chapter 13
The self-same power that brought me there brought you. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Billy
Out on the sidewalk, I paused letting Tony go into the building ahead of me. Though dark outside, the two story white washed brick, turquoise shuttered structure was illuminated by antique lanterns attached to the walls on the lower level. There was a single dormer in the sloped roof. Ferns swung from the overhang giving the ornate wrought iron balcony a southern plantation feel. It was more quaint in real life than it had been in the pictures my PA had emailed me.
When I caught up to him inside, Tony passed me an old fashioned skeleton key. I headed up the wide serpentine staircase and he clomped up after me with my guitar case and carry-on in tow. True to his word, he’d let me sleep for the entire drive, only waking me after he’d already retrieved my luggage from the trunk.
“You’re lucky the apartment’s empty.” He moved in behind me after I opened the upstairs door. “It’s a popular rental.”
I fumbled for the light switch. There was a faint glow from the outside street lamps but not enough for me to locate it.
“Oops. Sorry. I should’ve gone in before you.” Tony set my luggage down and went straight to the control panel for the lights flipping a switch which illuminated the interior.
“Thanks.” I took a moment to look around at the apartment that had been revealed. Knowing the building dated back to the eighteen hundreds, I was surprised by the high ceilings and by the openness of the main room. The foyer I was standing in was small with hexagonal tiles. The rest from what I could see had wide planked wooden floors and plaster walls. A casually furnished living area lay on my right, with a kitchen and dining area behind it. A darkened hallway along the wall to my right presumably led to the bedrooms. “I’m curious, how did you know where the switch was?”
“This used to be Chantelle’s place.” At my continued blank stare, he explained. “The friend I worked for, the one who loaned me the money. She sold the shop but she didn’t have the heart to sell the apartment. Too many memories to live in it though, so she rents it out. Stays occupied most of the year. So popular during Mardi Gras that it books up years in advance. Even with the…” He stopped abruptly, looking like he had said more than he’d meant to.
“Even with the what?”
“The ghost rumors.” I went completely still. Tony noticed. “Bah. Practically every building in NOLA has one.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.
It wouldn’t have been to me once, but now? It so the hell was. I’d forgotten about that side of New Orleans. It hadn’t been relevant the last time I’d come through. But that was before I started seeing ghosts of my own.
“The granddaughter’s ghost?” I guessed.
He nodded. “You know how tourists talk. I think people just like to speculate because of the way she died.”
“What happened to her?”
“That’s just it. No one knows for sure. She and her fiancée went missing right before Katrina came in. Shane they found. Viciously stabbed is what I heard. His parents had a closed, private burial. But her body was never recovered. Not uncommon after Katrina. Lots of people were left wondering about their loved ones. After all the flooding a lot of the bodies just got washed out to sea.” He sighed. “It’s really sad. She was such a sweet kind girl. She loved the shop, making ice cream, her poetry books. Everyone who knew her adored her.”
I took off my cap and ran a shaky hand through the thick waves of my hair.
“Shit. I’m sorry man. I’ve freaked you out. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“No, no. It’s ok.” I’d just have to be sure not to play my harmonica in the apartment. Just in case. “What do you guys do for fun around here?” Knowing there might be a ghost in residence, even though I was wiped, I felt a sudden irrepressible urge to get out of the apartment. “Any good places to grab something to eat? Listen to some music?” Get wasted. Find a chick. Get laid.
“There’s a lot of good food within walking distance. Though if you wanna stay in, the rental company usually stocks the fridge with some basics.” He jiggled his car keys, his brow creasing thoughtfully. “My favorite place to hang out is the Three Muses. It’s over on Frenchmen Street which is a little far from here, but it has classy blues, good appetizers and strong drinks. I’m heading over there tomorrow night to hear my brother and a couple of his friends play.”
“Yeah?” I raised a brow. “Since there’s food, I guess I’ll kick back here tonight. But if you don’t mind I’d like to come with you tomorrow. To the jazz place. I don’t really know anyone in town. I could also use a lay of the land kind of tour if you have some time.”
“Absolutely.” He grinned. “I’ll call ahead and reserve a table right after I drop off the birthday kids. I’ll swing by here a little early tomorrow, give you a tour of the Quarter and then we can walk over to The Muses together.”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
Alright. I’ll see you then.” He dipped his chin.
I closed the door and clicked the lock after Tony took off. Then I proceeded to check out the rest of the apartment. It had only two bedrooms on opposite sides of the hall. The one in the back of the place was a bit smaller in order to accommodate a common bath to its right.
Without even thinking about it I chose the larger one, with the chandelier, full length mirror, bookshelves and a set of French doors that led to a balcony facing the street. I wasn’t really sure why. It just felt right.
I unzipped my bag, put my toothbrush and shaving kit in the decent sized bathroom, then crossed the hall into the bedroom, shoving the rest of my things into a dresser drawer. Out of the corner of my eye, for just a moment, I thought that I saw a shadow in the mirror, but after raking my hair out of my ey
es and looking again, I decided that I must have been wrong.
I started to hum under my breath to fill the silence, a little tune I’d been working on for a while, a melody that I liked a lot but didn’t have the words for just yet.
Amped up and restless I slid the rings back and forth along my chain. I was just used to being up late I guess. Maybe in the back of my mind I was a little worried about the ghost thing. I wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to drink in the fridge.
Ignoring the feeling that someone was behind me I found a cheese plate and a couple of bottled waters on the top shelf. I snagged a slice of Colby and popped it into my mouth before slamming the door shut and continuing my search for something serious to drink.
I decided I definitely needed to check out that neighborhood grocery Lorraine had emailed me about sooner rather than later. Since the Quarter had its fair share of local celebrities I didn’t think I’d have any trouble moving around without being mobbed, especially if I kept my sunglasses and hat on. It would be nice to just be a regular guy for a change after all the hype of the tour.
Opening and closing the white bead board cabinets and drawers, I discovered that the kitchen was well stocked with dishes and cooking gadgets I’d probably never use. In a cabinet above the stainless steel sink I hit the jackpot. A nearly full bottle of tequila.
Not bothering with the shot glasses, I unscrewed the lid and sloshed about three fingers into a juice glass.
Hey, don’t judge.
I needed something to help me chill. Plus I wanted to sleep tonight. I didn’t want my slumber disturbed by any poltergeists.
Sliding onto one of the wooden barstools, I knocked back the booze and poured another before the fire in my throat cooled, maybe a little more generous than the last. I checked emails and shit on my cell halfheartedly until I started to feel a little mellow.
