Out of Body

by Stella Cameron

  “I can’t do what Marley does.” He touched the roof and raised his hand. “See, nothing happens. I don’t feel anything.”

  “Be patient.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I am Jude,” the man said. “They called me Judas because they blamed me for the evil acts of someone I should not have trusted. A woman who caused the family to be shunned and driven from their home. I married that woman.

  “They said I proved the Millet curse of the dark-haired ones—that evil befalls the family whenever a male Millet child does not have red hair. I have been patient waiting to clear my name. You will be patient finding what you want most. Continue with the house. It will give us the answer.”

  Gray rubbed his hands together and picked up a little chisel that felt ridiculously flimsy.

  “You can’t stop until we have the answer.”

  He slid the thinnest end of the blade beneath loose lacquer and peeled it away. More of the pinkish-brown finish appeared.

  Abruptly, his face stung.

  He had been slapped, hard.

  She was him and he was her. One. Bonded.

  The pain was hers.

  They were hurting Marley.

  45

  With her hands tied behind her back and her ankles lashed together, Marley leaned against a wall to keep her balance.

  Her cheek hurt and the corner of her left eye felt as if one of Sidney’s nails had cut the skin.

  The slap had come without warning. Sidney stood in front of her and brought her face down to Marley’s. “Pretty pattern,” she said, poking at the marks she must have made. “Ugly, freckled white skin.” She tugged Marley’s hair. “Ugly hair.” She pulled until Marley sucked in a breath.

  Sidney laughed. “You can cry, if you like.”

  How silly she had been to come with Sidney just because she had begged and cajoled. They had sneaked out of the Court of Angels through the alley gate and driven away—who knew where—in Sidney’s BMW.

  The room where she’d been taken finally had pretty furniture, old, not as old as most that Marley dealt with, but nice. “You said you needed my help, then you do this. What’s your point?”

  Sidney hit the other side of her face and grinned. “You’ve interfered. Now you need to tell me what I have to know. I’ll make points that way—those are the points that matter. I need information to pass along. How did you find out about me?”

  Marley frowned. “You were Amber’s singing partner. Amber’s missing. I found out about you that way. When I saw you at Scully’s that was the first time I saw you. I heard about you that afternoon.”

  “Don’t pretend you’re dumb. We know what you’ve found out.”

  “Then you don’t need to ask the questions, do you?” Marley said, bracing for another slap.

  Sidney put the tip of a high heel on Marley’s sandal-shod foot and applied weight.

  Tears welled in Marley’s eyes and she choked with pain. She wrestled with the rope around her wrists, and she listened, longing for the whispers of the Ushers.

  At first there had been a few moments when she had been left alone and that music she had heard before played. The music reminded her of the creature, but she still expected to reach help, most especially Gray. But then a sensation like slick fluid washing over her left momentary numbness in its wake. Since then she had been unable even to try to touch another mind. After that, she had not felt or seen anything beyond her immediate surroundings.

  Her powers were being contained, but she had no idea how.

  Was it this place that restricted her, some element there?

  “Eric will be back soon,” Sidney said, smiling. “He’ll persuade you to help us.”

  Eric was Sidney’s brother. He had been waiting for them in the black BMW after Sidney had managed to get into the shop and find Marley without being seen. Marley hadn’t noticed Eric in the backseat until he tapped her shoulder. Less striking than Sidney, he was still good-looking and dressed like a successful businessman in a dark silk suit.

  Marley hadn’t liked the expression in his eyes. He looked at her with flat dislike, she thought.

  Sitting in the front passenger seat, with Sidney driving and Eric behind her, she discovered she had read his feelings about her accurately.

  Marley had been helpless to stop him from tying a blindfold around her eyes. The gun Sidney pointed at her, even without looking at her, made sure she didn’t try any heroics.

  They had brought her here before removing that blindfold.

  “You’ve made him angry,” Sidney said.

  “Eric?” Marley said. “How?”

  “You know who I’m talking about and it isn’t Eric. You’ve done something stupid and now we’re in danger. You’ve got to be stopped and he will do it.”

  Marley was convinced she must be very careful what she said. The agitation she caused Sidney came from her having something the other woman needed and she could only think it was the red house—yet Sidney had seen it on the workbench and shown no interest.

  There could be only one explanation: Sidney had no idea that the miniature was significant.

  Carefully, Marley asked, “You wanted us to believe Danny was involved.”

  Sidney waved a dismissive hand. “You and Gray will have mentioned that to the police by now. I did what I wanted to do. Suspicion of Danny will divert them when the time comes.”

  Spoken as if Sidney was certain Marley wouldn’t be around to interfere.

  Marley’s courage wavered, but if she didn’t stay strong, she would be finished. “But you don’t really think Danny has anything to do with anything?”

  Sidney laughed. “You made it so easy.” But there were dark marks under her eyes and a tightness about her mouth. Sidney Fournier was very afraid of something.

  A thought and an image came to Marley unbidden. Her mind felt clearer. She made herself weigh the wisdom of it before she said, “I want to see the little girl,” Marley said. It was worth a try and she watched Sidney carefully for her reaction.

  That came immediately. Sidney’s face blanched and she turned away.

  She spun back, the corners of her mouth drawn down. “Who do you know in this house? Who’s telling you things?”

  Bingo. Marley pressed on. “I’d like to see Erin, please.”

  Sidney’s mouth worked.

  “Now,” Marley said.

  Sidney rushed at her and pummeled her head and shoulders. “Shut up! Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about. What have you done to make…? You’ve made people angry. I won’t suffer for what you’ve done.”

  “Don’t,” Marley said, bowing her head to avoid the blows.

  She stumbled sideways and fell, heard the door open as she hit the floor.

  “What’s this?” A man’s deep voice asked. “What are you doing, Sidney? Oh, this poor girl, let me help you.”

  Marley struggled to raise her head and shoulders. The man had thin, white hair and a lined face, but gave the impression he was not as old as he seemed although he used a cane. The hand he extended was smooth.

  He patted her shoulder and looked at Sidney. “Are you mad?” he said. “Is this a friend of yours you’ve brought here to treat like this?”

  “I’m sorry,” Sidney mumbled.

  “Help me,” he told her. He sank awkwardly to his knees and untied Marley’s hands. “Give them time for the blood to flow back. My, my, what must you think of us?”

  While he helped her sit up, Sidney loosened the knots at her ankles. When the rope was removed it left red marks behind to match the ones on Marley’s wrists.

  “She asked to see Erin,” Sidney said, sullen.

  “How nice,” he said and to Marley, “I am Bolivar Fournier, Sidney’s grandfather. Who are you, young lady?”

  “Marley Millet,” she told him without hesitation. Disoriented, she tried to reconcile her treatment at the hands of his granddaughter with this distinguished and charming man.

  He looked at he
r sharply, but with kindness in his eyes. “Not Antoine Millet’s daughter? Or one of them, should I say?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled, evidently delighted, and shook his head. “How is my old friend? I haven’t seen him in many a year.”

  “He’s well and living in London.”

  “Ah,” Mr. Fournier said as if she had explained a great mystery. “Well, you must see the little girl. You know all about this nastiness here in New Orleans, I suppose?”

  Marley swallowed. “The missing singers? Yes.”

  “Sidney’s a singer, you know,” Mr. Fournier said. “Pipes is her new partner since, well, her former partner is one of the women who disappeared. A terrible thing. We took in Pipes and her daughter because Pipes didn’t feel safe living alone in the Quarter anymore. We’ve got plenty of room here as you can see, and we can keep the child safe.”

  He got to his feet, planted his cane with a sharp rap on wood and helped Marley up with surprising strength. “Marley,” he said. “There is a sickness in New Orleans. So many people are afraid. I would have expected the police to solve the problem by now, but just like the last time, they seem helpless.”

  Marley nodded. If she asked to leave now and go home, what would happen? Chances were that the risk of disaster was too high.

  Eric slipped into the room and stopped as if he needed a new battery—just inside the door.

  “This is Marley Millet,” Mr. Fournier said. “I knew her father. Take her to visit Pipes’s little girl.”

  Eric nodded, backing from the room, and Marley followed on feet that tingled.

  “You, too,” she heard Mr. Fournier say, and Sidney caught up.

  Neither brother nor sister would look at Marley. They walked into a circular, white marble entry hall. As soon as they were alone, Eric and Sidney hovered, looking at each other.

  “Hi!”

  Marley turned to see Pipes Dupuis running downstairs.

  “We’re taking Marley to meet Erin,” Sidney said through lips that barely moved.

  “She’s downstairs. I was on my way there.” Pipes’s voice shook. She couldn’t get any paler.

  Marley glanced at Eric to find him staring at Pipes with complete absorption. What glowed in his eyes resembled possessiveness. It also spoke to lust—and perhaps frustration.

  “Hey,” he said. “Great. We’ll come with you.”

  Pipes looked blank. She stood in the impressive hall with its marble busts and looked from Eric to Sidney, as if waiting for instructions.

  Eric laughed into the silence and Marley’s stomach turned at the sound.

  “We’d best get on,” Eric said, but he smiled at Pipes and touched her face lightly.

  Marley’s skin crawled. He was obsessed with the singer.

  ‘“This way,” Pipes said and sped on behind the base of the other staircase and along a corridor. Marble gave way to dark paneling and still they kept hurrying along.

  The nerves in Marley’s spine jumped. She got an impression. She remembered it all because she’d been there before. Then she heard what she’d longed for, the whispers that were beloved now. Nothing she could actually make out, but the familiar excited tumbling of sibilant voices.

  She kept moving, but she concentrated hard. Her inner awareness was opening wider by the instant. Deliberately, she brought Gray’s face into focus. They were Bonded. It was to him she should turn now. Together they had the promise of enormous strength.

  His scars showed and she felt the impact of a blow. He was hurting and that’s why she could see those hateful marks.

  The vision of his face turned toward her so that she looked directly at him. Slowly the shades of gray turned to color and his brilliant eyes pleaded with her. His mouth moved.

  “Gray?” She tried to reach him. He showed no sign of hearing her and no answer came.

  A door lay ahead. Pipes pushed it open and Marley followed into a kitchen with Eric and Sidney.

  She shrank back, head light, sweat breaking out on her neck and brow.

  “Where is she?” she managed to say. “Erin?”

  “You don’t look well, my dear,” Eric said, pulling a chair forward.

  Marley slumped onto the seat. She had to, that or perhaps fall. “Where’s Erin?” she mumbled, keeping her gaze on the floor, the white, tiled floor, the bottoms of cabinets, the legs of a table.

  “Erin’s playing,” Pipes said, her voice faint.

  “In the basement, I expect,” Eric said and gave another barking laugh. “What is it about basements that encourages play? Let’s go and find her.”

  Marley heard another door open and looked sideways, her eyes still downcast. Inside a room, like a cupboard, she saw string-tied brown packages piled on the bottom of a stack of shelves.

  “Come on,” Eric said. “I’ll help you, Marley.”

  The last time she heard him talk in this room, she had been in Liza’s mind. This must be the madman who had terrorized New Orleans.

  46

  Pillars had been removed from the facade and balconies. This had started as a stuccoed dollhouse, not a piece of chinoiserie.

  Gray worked with the little chisel he’d found on Marley’s bench. The lacquer peeled quite easily, but took some of the underlying coat of paint with it.

  There had been writing on the wall in the center of the front wall, where the door must once have been. He had taken most of it off with the lacquer.

  A magnifying glass hung on a hook and he used it to peer at what was left of black, fanciful words. There wasn’t enough. All he made out was “Eau,” which meant nothing.

  He turned the piece around, but stopped when the house started to shift off its base. Carefully, he tilted it sideways and revealed what was covered by the mound of lawns that sloped up on all four sides.

  A web of pipes opened to show how a basement—not really a basement but the lowest floor hidden with earth and grass—was reached by a staircase. In a corner, another compartment puzzled him, until he saw little dolls wrapped like mummies and hanging from hooks.

  Marley had talked about a cold room with hooks.

  That’s where she said Liza and Amber had appeared to her.

  His belly felt rigid and he stiffened, willing himself to stay calm. Righted again, a panel at the back of the house had obviously been pried open, then put back. Gray opened it again and followed the floors up with the tips of his fingers.

  The lower room was accessed from the kitchen, from a pantry off the kitchen. And to reach the kitchen you would walk behind a curved staircase and along a corridor.

  A curved staircase, one of two rising up through a circular white entry hall.

  “Gray?”

  He dropped the chisel. Marley’s voice was distant but clear. He squeezed his eyelids together and concentrated. “I’m here,” he said aloud. “Marley, where are you?”

  Nothing.

  Then, with concentrated inner will, he saw her face and the shadows of people moving around her. “Marley,” he whispered. Why couldn’t he talk to her with his mind as he had before?

  He hammered the bench with both fists. He couldn’t because he wasn’t practiced enough, but they were Bonded. They were one. He must be able to go to her.

  Of course he had seen this house before, a real one just like it—minus red lacquer.

  “Eau,” he said. “Water. L’Eau.”

  Knocking a picture frame over as he went, he dashed from the workroom, but was cautious going down the stairs. He didn’t have time or inclination to explain where his thoughts were going and if these Millets were all so talented, they should already be on their way to finding one of their own in trouble.

  The shop was empty. He looked back, expecting to see Winnie, but she hadn’t followed him. She would be safe where she was.

  He caught sight of Willow through the back windows. She was hauling a box to the garbage.

  The shop door wasn’t locked. He opened it and stepped onto the sidewalk—and walked into Pascal’s
trainer, Anthony, who carried loaves of French bread under one arm and a bunch of cut flowers in the other hand.

  “Who died?” Anthony said.

  Gray figured he looked desperate. “Nobody. Yet. I’m looking for Marley.”

  “She left,” Anthony said, pushing open the shop door.

  Gray gripped the man’s brawny arm and Anthony’s expression immediately mirrored Gray’s concern.

  “Did you see which way she went?”

  “Sure.” Anthony came back from the door. “She left with a woman I don’t know. In a black BMW.”

  “I gotta get a cab.”

  “Want my car?” Anthony asked, wrestling to pull keys from his pocket. “The green MGB back there. I was just dropping these off, but I don’t need the car.”

  Gray hesitated, but only briefly. He took the keys. “Thanks. Thanks a lot, buddy.”

  The top of the MG was down and Gray vaulted into the driver’s seat.

  Sidney Fournier had left in her BMW—and Marley had gone with them. When he opened that dollhouse and recognized it for what it was, that’s when he had heard Marley trying to reach him.

  Bord De L’Eau, the Fourniers’ home. He had never felt anything as strongly as he did the presence of Marley. She was there and she was calling for him.

  47

  Eric’s grip on Marley’s arm was not gentle. His fingers dug at her and he pulled her to her feet. “I’m tired of pretending,” he said. “We’ve got things to do.”

  With Sidney, Pipes went ahead and down the steps Marley had expected to find in the pantry. Eric hurried after them and memories made Marley sick to her stomach. Her heart thudded.

  To be in this place, with him, disgusted her.

  Pipes had started to cry. She drew back against a wall and covered her face.

  “Don’t cry, honey,” Eric said. He went to her and pulled her unresponsive body into his arms. He tilted up her face and kissed her, long and deep, then released her, laughing bitterly when she slipped down to sit on the floor and sob quietly.