Memento Mori: Haunted New Orleans Series

by Rayvn Salvador

  Just as I was about to risk a run at the door again, I heard pounding footfalls against the grass and looked up in time to see Lark, James, Padre, Sky, and Dakota rounding the bend. Hope surged for a moment, making me lightheaded for a second. I ran over.

  “What’s going on?” Lark asked. “My psychic warnings are out of control right now. I couldn’t find Aaron or Jeremy.”

  “A fucking psychopathic serial killer has Hanlen,” I answered, needing them to know what was going on but worried we’d waste too much time if they asked questions. “But there’s some sort of magic shield around the place. Something none of us can break through. It literally threw me back several feet when I tried to storm through the door.”

  “Oh, sweet goddess,” Lark breathed. “What do you need? What can we do?”

  “Dev?” Wren called, and I looked over. I jogged to her and looked where she was pointing. There, on the ground, right where they were all stuck, was a line of dirt and . . . oh, shit. Black salt. The most powerful banishing correspondence out there, especially if the right sea salt was used. Combine that with graveyard dirt and the right intention, and it was no wonder we were having so much trouble.

  Fuck.

  “Lark!” I yelled. She came running over and looked down where I pointed, to where my flashlight shone. “Oh, damn. That’s not good.” She looked up, shaking her head at me. “No wonder it kicked your ass. Who do we know that can do magic like this? It feels almost . . . I don’t know. Familiar somehow.”

  “Yeah, it does. Because it’s my fucking magic. Sort of. It’s twisted, not quite right, but it’s mine. I just have no idea how.” I looked around the area, not sure why but hoping that I’d get some flash of inspiration. I needed to get in there. I had to save Hanlen. Just as I had that thought, another scream split the night, shattering my heart right along with it.

  “God Almighty,” Padre said, crossing himself and whispering prayers as everybody else went on alert, the urgency ramping up another notch.

  “Lark, Dakota,” I said, calling the women over. “Wren, Reagan, Findley,” I gestured for the ghosts. “We need to do this together. I need you all to use your combined power, magic, and intention to break through this barrier. I need to get in there to Hanlen. Now.”

  “Use your love, Dev,” Wren said and reached out to me. I wished she could touch me. I would have loved a hug and some strength right about now. But she was right. I loved Hanlen, and love was the most powerful magic of all.

  “Lord and Lady, spirits, ancestors, guides and friends, assist us this night to bring evil an end. Lend us your strength of three times three, this is my will, so mote it be,” Lark chanted.

  Surprisingly, I heard Sky whisper-echo Lark’s last words and felt a flare of power in my chest. Interesting, but not something I could dwell on right now. She joined Padre, slipping her hand into his as he said the Lord’s Prayer. She wasn’t actually praying but lending him her strength, her stalwart belief in science and energy that was magic in itself. I then focused on the others.

  I heard Gunnie and Wren chanting from their corner of the mausoleum, hands clasped. Findley walked around the building’s side to join in with Lark, their histories and beliefs more aligned, as Findley had been part of a local coven before his death. I heard Lark gasp, likely hearing and feeling Fin lend her his magic. We stood in a triskele formation around the structure, and I hoped the sacred geometry would work in our favor, as well.

  “Keep it up. I’m going to get close. I’ll bet there’s another layer of protection at the door. If you guys can weaken the outer layer and then move forward, I think I can break the physical line and then muscle my way in. Especially since this is, in essence, my magic.”

  I both felt and heard the work ramping up behind me, and it gave me some confidence. I only hoped that the silence that reigned once again from inside was a good sign, an indication that he wasn’t currently hurting Hanlen. And not a bad one, meaning she could no longer make sounds.

  When I reached the door, I heard Lark call over the din of voices. “Now, Dev. Do it now! We still can’t get through, but you should be able to. Go.”

  I scraped my boot through the line of dirt and salt that was at the entrance to the mausoleum and felt the magic snap, like a rubber band stretched too far. I felt much the same.

  When the vacuum of power hit me, I barreled through the door until the magic stopped me in my tracks for a minute again. Fuming and frantic, I took in the sight before me in a blink. Hanlen was tied to the tomb, her arms secured at her sides and her feet tied to the bottom. She looked conscious, but barely. I saw blood trickling from wounds at her neck and on her arms, some sort of contraption positioned to capture the blood as it ran free. When I glanced up, I saw someone in the shadows over by another tomb, turning toward me. I caught the glint of metal in lantern and candlelight and allowed my gaze to travel from the hand up the arm to the shoulder, neck, and finally the face.

  The look was pure evil. No feeling. No empathy. Just blank entitlement. But outside of that, despite the fact that the look alone gave me shivers, I felt my body lock when my brain finally caught up to what was going on and I was able to process what I was seeing.

  Because I knew that face. I didn’t recognize the look on it, but I knew those eyes, that mouth, those cheekbones.

  I had seen them nearly every day for the last five years.

  “Hello, Dev,” he sneered, before taking a sip from a goblet and looking up at me. He wiped a macabre Kool-Aid stain from his mouth with a finger before sucking the digit and letting it go with a pop, a chilling smile on his face.

  I shuddered.

  “Remy, what the hell?”

  Chapter 26

  Hanlen

  My head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, and the taste of metal coated my tongue. I felt every injury like a second painful pulse, both in time with my heartbeat and seemingly separate from it. Remy had manhandled me a bit and then made incisions at my neck and wrists, attaching some sort of device and tubes to drain me, babbling all along about how it was an honor; how he would never choose anybody else for something so special.

  Fucking psychopath.

  I felt my strength waning with each breath, and figured I must be hallucinating when I swore I saw Dev enter the crypt. I was having trouble keeping my eyes open, but I took some deep breaths to try and center myself and bring me back to reality. I was just about to admit to myself that maybe I wasn’t as okay as I wanted to believe when I still saw Dev. Until Remy spoke up.

  “Hello, Dev.”

  Oh my God, he was actually here. When I took another deep breath and concentrated, I thought I heard voices from outside, too. Dev hadn’t come alone. Maybe we could make it through this. Remy had seriously cracked. Or maybe he’d always been this way and was just really good at pretending to be so-called normal. When I took a moment to think about that harder, I realized that he was likely never quote-unquote normal. If he’d killed Reagan, that was ten years ago. Remy had to be years younger than me. Which would mean that he had only been a teenager back then. I thought back to the club we’d been to that night and realized that it had been an eighteen-and-over venue—the kind that gave wristbands at the door for anyone twenty-one and older. He very well could have been there and still been in high school. All of this was bad enough, but to know that he’d been like this and had made his first kill at that young of an age . . . it was almost more disturbing.

  The private investigator in me was fascinated by the psychology of it all. What made a person that way? What had broken in Remy at such a young age that it had warped his mind and turned him into a person who could so callously take another human’s life? And then to take that a step further and feel—legitimately believe—that he was doing it for a good reason. For something that was beneficial to all. Because he really did believe that. I read people for a living, and I could tell that he truly believed what he had been saying when he was spewing his nonsense about honor and privilege and gifts.
How did that even happen?

  I tried to bring myself back to the present.

  “Remy, what the hell?” Dev said, his words and tone full of vitriol.

  “I’m sorry you had to see this, Dev. I know that you developed an attachment to Hanlen, but she was never yours. She’s always been mine. Since that night so long ago when I saw her dancing and knew she was my salvation.”

  “Listen, man,” Dev said, regulating his tone and assuming a non-threatening posture. “We can get you some help. We can figure this out. Just let her go. Let me go. Let me help her.”

  Remy cocked his head and stared at Dev, his expression containing a look I couldn’t decipher. “Let her go?” he asked. “Why would I want to do that? She’s mine. As I said, she’s always been mine. Her life force will revitalize me and let me be reborn. Will soothe the darkness inside me. I will no longer have to walk in the shadows, a slave to my darker side. I will once again be part of the light like I was as a child. Before it took control, whispering in my ear.”

  What the ever-loving-hell?

  “And she will be free. Free of the hurt and pain and heartache of life. I will send her on her way to Paradise, a coin in hand for the ferryman. She can finally reunite with Reagan. When she told us the story of her loss the night of the cast party, I knew that I needed to help her. I could feel her pain and knew exactly how I could fix things. I could let her see her friend again, and she could help me become. I never thought I’d get the chance, despite all my efforts to make it happen, but fate brought her back to me. The minute I saw her, I knew that this was meant to be. Everything fell into place too perfectly for me to have any doubts. She’s the light I’ve searched for.”

  “Fucking hell, Remy,” Dev said and scrubbed his hands over his head and face. “What the actual fuck?”

  “You just don’t understand. And I don’t expect you to.” He moved forward to lean over me as he talked to Dev.

  “The magic. How did you do it?” Dev asked as he waved his hands in complicated patterns. I assumed he was trying to free himself from whatever Remy had done to keep him away.

  “Oh, that?” Remy said and laughed. “Well, that’s all thanks to you. I watch you, you know. I learn. And that time we had that cast party at the Vodou temple, and you taught us all a little simple magic to get a rise out of the super twins, Harper, and Sky? I knew I could do it. I just knew that with enough work and practice and some supplies carefully obtained from you and Birdie, I could do whatever I wanted. Especially after I’d fed. It’s such a rush, Dev. Like pure, unfiltered life flowing through your veins. Add in the magic, and I’ve never felt so powerful. I’m becoming a god.”

  Jesus, this guy was a mess. I wasn’t sure there was hope for him. Even with professional help.

  “Just let her go, man. Let Hanlen go, and we’ll get you the help you need.”

  “I don’t need help!” Remy yelled. “I am exactly where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly what I was meant to do. I think it’s you who doesn’t belong.” He pointed the knife at Dev, and my heart rate picked up, making every wound on my body throb even more. Despite the lethargy overtaking me, I fought to stay awake. To stay alert and figure out a way out of this. What in the hell was everybody outside waiting for? Why weren’t they rushing in to save the day?

  I saw Dev raise his hands and fling them out, then walk closer to Remy’s side of the crypt I lay on. He must have been able to get through whatever Remy had done. I wanted to tell him not to go. Wished he’d just save himself. I imagined the worst-case scenarios that may unfold if Dev took Remy on, one-on-one. Remy was much larger than Dev, and while Dev wasn’t old by any stretch of the imagination, he was older than Remy. And Remy had adrenaline and a god-complex on his side besides. Not to mention, he an utterly psycopath.

  Just as I was about to force myself to tell Dev to stop, he sprang, knocking into Remy and pile-driving him back against the tomb behind them. Remy grunted and brought an elbow down on Dev’s back, causing the air to rush out of Dev’s lungs in a whoosh. Dev recovered and tried to take Remy to the ground, only to be shoved off and punched in the face. Dev’s head snapped to the side, but he somehow remained standing and kicked at Remy, catching the other man in the midsection and sending him back once again.

  Remy slashed out with the dagger, the blade glinting in the low light. As if in slow motion, I heard the swish of steel against fabric, undercut by a squelching sound of severed flesh that turned my stomach. When Dev drew in a sharp inhale, I knew he’d been cut, but I wasn’t sure where. They were too far away from me now. And being restrained and weak, I couldn’t lift my head enough to catch more than vague impressions of what was going on.

  I felt so helpless. The man I loved was battling for his life. Fighting for mine. And I couldn’t do anything to help. I tried to pull against my bonds, but I was too weak, couldn’t even free myself an inch. Grunts and dull thuds continued as the two fought, and I worried that Remy would hit something vital in Dev with that knife. But would I even be alive to find out? I felt my body giving in to defeat. Saw the shadows creeping in at the edges of my vision. Just as I was about to say something, at least tell Dev how I felt before I died, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and saw a commotion at the door.

  I turned my head to see Larken, James, Paxton, Dakota, and Schuyler rush through the door, the latter holding a gun.

  Was I imagining things?

  “Freeze, motherfucker,” she called and pointed the handgun at the grappling pair, her stance steady and aim true. The guys stopped fighting long enough to look up, and I finally heard the blade hit the stone and skitter across the surface. Dev must have disarmed Remy in his surprise.

  Just as I was about to relax, I saw more movement near the door and looked over, only to have my stomach drop and my breath freeze in my lungs. Four people entered, but it was the one in the front that metaphorically stopped me in my tracks. Black and purple braids that hung to her waist. A leather miniskirt and a bustier. Glowing umber skin.

  Reagan.

  It was Ray.

  And I could see her.

  Until everything went black.

  Chapter 27

  Dev

  It took maybe five minutes from the time the gang finally entered the mausoleum before Remy was face-down on the stone floor, his hands and feet secured with zip ties that James had in his pocket from wrapping up and securing the equipment.

  After checking on Hanlen and making sure Lark had her, I turned to the petite, raven-haired woman standing next to me, her aim still true on Remy as he lay on the ground, her stance easy and loose. I gently reached over and placed my hand on hers, exerting just a bit of pressure to let her know it was okay to lower the gun. “Sky, you can relax.”

  It was like someone had flipped a switch. Her posture changed and she rubbed the heel of her hand still holding the gun against her forehead and hair. “What the fuck? What the actual ever-loving fuck?” She flipped a switch on the side of the gun and lowered it to her side, still full of frenetic energy—I could see it sparking through her aura. She paced, wiping the palm of her free hand on her jeans as she did.

  I looked up at the rest of the crew. Everybody had had some pretty creative things to say when they saw who held Hanlen, and I was afraid I’d have to hold a few of them back from actually trying to kill him. As it was, James still knelt with his knee in Remy’s back—probably none too gently—the bigger man struggling but not able to do much given the way he was restrained. We couldn’t hear the bullshit he spewed either, since Lark had ripped off the silk scarf she wore almost immediately and threw it to James to tie it around his head as a gag and then went straight to Hanlen to do a quick healing spell. It wouldn’t be enough to heal her completely, but it would give her some relief and stabilize her until we could get her some medical attention.

  I caught Padre crossing himself again and figured it was his way of dealing with the evil we had been confronted with. One of our own—someone we had worked wi
th for five seasons of our show, cared about, treated as family—was a deranged serial killer. He’d murdered two of my family members and one of my friends. Had stolen a sick and elderly man from his wife and Hanlen. He’d drained Dustin Reynolds and who knew how many others and left them to rot in the city. And all for what? To . . . become? Whatever the hell that meant.

  I looked at Wren and Findley wrapped in each other’s embrace and wondered what this meant for them. For us. Would they remain on this side of the veil, or would they finally cross over? The evil had a name now. A face. His power was gone. He would be spending the rest of his life behind bars—if a jury of his peers didn’t give him the death penalty. I could see a good defense lawyer trying to use an insanity plea to get him off, but he was lucid and totally in control, and that was scarier than anything.

  I couldn’t think about that right now. Snapping out of my shock and seeing that Remy was contained, I finally rushed to Hanlen. Lark had untied her and removed the blood-draining device, but she still hadn’t regained consciousness.

  “We called the police and an ambulance,” Dakota said as she came up next to Lark. “They should be here soon.”

  “Good, that’s good,” I said, not sure what else to say. I brushed Hanlen’s hair away from her face and took in her pale complexion and the cuts and bruises Remy had left on her body—one of which was deep enough that Lark had said she was afraid to stop putting pressure on it. I wanted to murder him. I wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp for even daring to touch her. To harm her. She was not his. She was mine. And I really hoped that she felt the same.

  Gunnie walked up to my left and stared down at Hanlen. “Will she be okay?” she asked, and I let out a breath at hearing her voice.

  “Physically? I think she’ll be fine. Mentally . . . only time will tell.”