Turning on her heels, Mora continued up the stairs.
Laurel scrambled to catch up.
The second floor halls were nearly as fancy as the main floor.
Laurel continued to follow Mora down the hall, expecting her to stop at one of the dozen or so doors, but she didn’t. Instead, she led her to another staircase, this one not near as elegant as what she’d seen with the rest of the house.
The stairs were steep, prompting Laurel to grab the rough wood of the rail to steady herself.
When they finally reached the top, they were in another hall, but this one was smaller. Here, there were only six bedrooms, all of them in poor condition.
Mora opened one of the doors and entered a small room with three beds.
The surprise on Laurel’s face prompted Mora to spout another explanation. “The nice rooms are only for the ladies who entertain regular. I’m not a full fledged working girl just yet.”
“I’m sorry … I just thought …”
Mora cut her off. “It doesn’t matter. I do my share around here. I’ve used my hand to pleasure men, and I dance sometimes.”
“So you are the one that’s a virgin!” Laurel was shocked.
How could one grow up in a brothel and remain a virgin?
A shadow passed over Mora’s face. “Not exactly.”
Now Laurel was really confused, but she decided not to push it. Instead, she felt an apology was in order. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”
Mora waved aside her apology. “I forget just how ignorant you are of the world. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be kept in a convent your whole life.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” Laurel told her, though of course she really wouldn’t know, since she didn’t have any other type of life to compare it to.
Dumping her hat on one of the beds, she motioned for Laurel to come with her.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to Madam Arlington. I might be able to talk her into letting you take this extra bed. Renée won’t have any use for it anymore. She up and moved over to Madam Roslyn’s place.”
After descending both flights of stairs, Mora led her to the back of the house. She stopped in front of a set of dark mahogany doors and knocked.
“Come in.” A rough female voice called.
Mora opened the door.
Looking over her shoulder, she made sure Laurel was right behind her.
Laurel hesitated.
She’d never met a brothel madam before, so she had no idea what to expect.
“Come on,” Mora urged under her breath.
She entered the room and Laurel followed, but her steps faltered.
This was even more frightening then going before the mother superior.
The first thing Laurel noticed was the large tub in the middle of the room, and the woman in it.
She appeared to be in her 50s, and not exactly the most attractive woman she’d ever seen. A tall girl with beautiful burgundy colored hair was massaging soap through the older woman’s thin red hair.
Laurel assumed the woman in the tub was Madam Arlington.
“Who’s this you have with you?”
Laurel found the woman’s rough demeanor and looks completely out of place from her surroundings.
“I found her near the market. She was on the streets, and a man was trying to take advantage of her,” Mora explained.
“Is that so?” Madam Arlington eyed Laurel speculatively. “What’s your name girl?”
“Laurel Fabre.”
“Hmm … well you could fetch a pretty penny. Are you a virgin?”
Laurel opened her mouth, but no words would come out.
Mora came to her rescue. “Laurel doesn’t want to do that … but she’s offered to do some work around here to earn her keep.”
“Well what a waste that would be!” Madam Arlington scowled.
After the girl carefully rinsed the older woman’s hair with fresh water, Madam Arlington stood up and reached for a towel. After wrapping the plush terrycloth around her aging body, she stepped out of the tub and went straight to a cupboard, where she poured some brown liquid into a crystal glass.
“Seems we have too many helpers already,” she said, casting her bloodshot eyes at Mora and the girl with the burgundy hair.
“But I might be more inclined to let you stay, without working … if you could do something to draw in the gentleman,” Madam Arlington said, looking to Laurel.
“What could I do?” Laurel asked.
“You can’t be that stupid, girl. You know the gentlemen would be falling all over themselves over a young thing like you. If you were to perform in our shows, it could draw them in. They would think you’d be working before too long, and they’d be clamoring to be the first to pluck you.”
“I don’t know anything about performing,” Laurel told her.
“Mora can teach you whatever you need to know,” Madam Arlington told her before turning to Mora.
“Make sure she has some suitable clothing to wear, and get to showing her the ropes. I intend to put out the word that we have a new girl here for the Saturday night crowd.”
“Yes ma’am.” Mora turned skeptical eyes toward Laurel. “Well let’s go. You have a lot to learn.”
“Let her sleep in the attic with you and Arlene,” Madam called after them. “If she isn’t earning money, she belongs with the two of you.”
Chapter Six
When they returned to the bedroom they were to share, Mora pulled out a bunch of clothes and loaded Laurel’s arms. “You can try these on. Find something nice and we’ll go downstairs to get started.”
As far as Laurel was concerned, all the clothes were beautiful, but they wouldn’t all fit. These were Mora’s clothes, and she had a little more meat on her bones than Laurel did.
“How do you entertain the gentlemen?” Laurel wanted to know.
“Sing and dance mostly … but we also entice them. When the time comes they want to go upstairs, you make your excuses and hand them over to one of the working ladies.”
Choosing a pretty pink morning dress, Laurel quickly changed her clothes.
When leaving the bedroom, her eyes wandered to the other doors in the little hall. She wondered how many girls didn’t participate in the carnal duties of the brothel.
“The other rooms are for girls who get caught. They stay there until they have their babies,” Mora explained.
“Oh … what do they do with the babies?” Laurel was curious.
“Well they stay here with us, mostly. There’s a little nursery in the attic where they are kept a lot of the time.”
“I can’t wait to get to know the children.” Laurel smiled.
“They’re a nuisance,” Mora grumbled.
When they passed by a large mirror, Laurel couldn’t help but stop. She was actually startled by the image she saw staring out at her from the mirror.
The girl in the vibrant pink dress didn’t look anything like her. She just couldn’t get enough color after wearing gray her entire life.
The dress was low cut and showed far too much cleavage, but it was so pretty that she was willing to overlook that part. The silk and lace felt wonderful next to her skin.
Mora cleared her throat. “You gonna stand there and look at yourself all day?”
Laurel felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She wasn’t looking at her reflection because she was vain, but only because she was surprised at how different a little color made.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
When they entered the drawing room, Mora went straight to a man at the piano.
“Well hello Miss Mora May White. How you doing today?” he asked, his mouth spreading into a wide smile.
“Same as most days,” Mora groused.
He turned large dark eyes on Laurel. “You must be the new girl.”
“Hello monsieur.”
“I’m Jackson. You’ll get to know me real well, on account of me being here so much
.”
Laurel liked him right away. “So you play the piano?” she asked.
He laughed. “Child, I be one of the best in the city.”
Laurel smiled. “Can I hear something?”
“Sure enough.”
Jackson turned around and placed his fingers on the keys. As soon as his fingers started moving, a lively tune filled the room. Laurel had never heard music quite so exhilarating, but of course she hadn’t heard a lot of music.
When the song ended, Mora snapped her fingers to get Laurel’s attention. “We have work to do,” she reminded her.
“Thank you for the wonderful song.”
“Don’t worry your head, girl. I’ll be here if you want to hear some more,” he told her with a big grin.
Laurel followed Mora into a large room with a small stage at one end. “This is where you’ll perform.”
“What should I perform? I don’t know how to dance or sing.”
“Of course not.” Mora rolled her eyes. “The first thing we are going to have to teach you is how to dance with the gentlemen. You’ll be expected to do that. Then I’ll show you what you’ll do on the stage.”
For the next hour, Mora showed her how to dance by letting the man lead. When she was satisfied Laurel had the basics, she pointed to the stage.
“Now get on the stage,” Mora instructed.
Laurel did as she was asked.
“You’ll be wearing something different when you perform, but what you’ll do is dance. Make sure you swing your hips to the music … and then just take off your clothes, one piece at a time.”
Laurel’s face twisted with horror. “You cannot be serious!”
“Well of course I’m serious. Don’t worry if they try and touch you. Someone will take care of it.”
Laurel shook her head. “I don’t think I can do it.”
This whole thing had been a mistake.
What would she do, or where would she go if she couldn’t do the things that Madam Arlington wanted?
The more familiar she became with the nature of life, the more she began to wonder if it would not have been better if she’d joined the sisters at the convent.
“Laurel.” Mora smiled patiently. “You are no longer a child, and even being a virgin, I’m sure you know what men want from a woman. Even if they can’t actually get it from you … seeing what they can’t have will drive them crazy. The other ladies will make a fortune from their unfulfilled lusts.”
Laurel’s thoughts turned to St. Claire and what she’d seen in her mind when he’d kissed her.
What she’d felt during that kiss was more powerful than she would have imagined. She had no doubt that desire could be a powerful thing.
Suddenly she felt darkness enter the room.
The shadows in the corners grew longer, as if reaching out to devour them.
But it had to be her imagination.
What she fancied as darkness, had to be the afternoon sun fading.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the entire atmosphere of the house had suddenly changed.
Though Mora was the only other person in the room, she felt as if someone were watching her.
Pushing the feeling away, she made a conscious decision to banish her gloomy thoughts. Marcos didn’t know where to find her, and night was still a couple hours away.
“Now get up there and imagine there’s some music … start peeling those clothes off,” Mora instructed.
When Laurel stepped onto the stage she was overcome with a feeling of wrongness, not to mention the fear of looking ridiculous.
Moving her body to an imagined melody, she slipped off the gown, and then one stocking at a time. She next slipped off the lacey knickers she’d been wearing beneath the gown. When she was done, she stood completely naked on the stage, glad that the only person in the room was Mora.
“Well you need some practice, but you’ll do okay,” Mora winked.
“Will she really make me do this in front of men?” Laurel asked.
“It won’t kill you. I promise!”
Mora picked up Laurel’s clothes and handed them to her. “Now get dressed. We have dinner early here, so that we can entertain during the evening.”
* * *
Dinner was a new experience.
At Saint Michael’s the food had been plain, without much variety. That wasn’t the case at Magnolia Hall. Madam Arlington prided herself on serving her girls only the best.
The jambalaya with spicy sausage was delectable, and for the first time, Laurel tasted lobster, garnished with lemon butter.
She ate way too much, but couldn’t help herself. It was all so good, almost as good as sweets.
Since she wasn’t ready to entertain yet, she was sent up to her room while the other girls worked.
She didn’t mind. A little solitude would help her think her situation through.
From the bedroom window, she could look onto the St. Louis cemetery. Though the moon was waning, the night was still bright enough to illuminate the many tombs, and the silent angels watching over them. As she stared down at the eerie scene, a chill settled over her.
She was absolutely certain someone was hiding among the tombs - watching her. A shadow moved and Marcos stepped into the moonlight.
Tilting his head, he looked up, and then acknowledged her awareness of him with a bow.
Even from a distance, she could feel him pulling at her. Just the memory of being in his arms made her heart beat a little faster.
Though she tried to block it out, she yearned to feel his kiss, and to experience that hot - sweet sensation again.
But was that exquisite sensation worth her soul?
Laurel turned away from the window.
From the small dresser, she took out her mother’s amulet and slipped it around her neck. It was the only protection she had, and though it might help to keep the demons at bay, she knew it would do little to protect her from Marcos. That was especially true if she allowed her own body to betray her.
How had he found her?
It happened so quickly, she wasn’t even sure what hit her.
The room went completely black, but then it changed and she was reliving it all over again.
She was a child, no more than five years old.
Every night, she’d wake the nuns with her screams. Her nightmares were troubling to the sisters, especially when she told them about the monsters that would come out of the ground.
That was when Sister Agnes brought her an annulet to wear - the same one she was wearing now.
When the other children had seen her wearing it, they’d laughed at her and called her a witch. After that, she’d taken it off and refused to wear it. Though Sister Agnes feared her nightmares might get worse, they’d actually gone away after that.
The memory had always been there, but buried in her subconscious. Wearing the amulet must have brought it all back.
Lifting the amulet so she could study the symbol, she was more confused than ever.
Why would her mother have something connected to witchcraft?
Even more curious was that Sister Agnes gave it to her, though the nun had to be aware of what the symbol meant.
Clutching the amulet in her hand, she strayed to the window. This time when she looked down at the cemetery, he was gone.
She sighed with relief, but it was a hollow relief. He might be gone now, but he knew where to find her.
Laurel’s attention was drawn from the window when she heard someone enter the room.
It was the girl with the burgundy hair.
“Hello.” Laurel smiled. “No one told me your name.”
“I’m Arlene,” she said, her words laced with a faint Cajun accent.
It almost sounded like Sister Brunson, who came from Canada.
Arlene sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to put any wrinkles in her green silk dress, which matched her eyes perfectly.
“What’s that you’re wearing?” she asked.
With some reluctance, she showed Arlene the amulet, explaining where it came from.
Arlene gasped. “You won’t want to flash that around. Some of the girls here are afraid of witches.”
“But I’m not a witch!” Laurel protested.
“Aren’t you?” Arlene smiled. “If that belonged to your mother … I would say that’s exactly what you are.”
Laurel’s hands began to shake. The thought was mortifying. She would go to hell for sure.
Arlene’s smiled widened. “You would think that I just slapped you in the face. It’s okay … I am too. It’s not just me … Mora also.”
Now this had Laurel’s attention. “Really?”
Arlene nodded. “Watch this.”
With one finger, Arlene pointed to the closet door and it opened.
Laurel’s jaw dropped. “You can make things move?”
“Oh a lot more than that, but you have to be careful. There’s always a price to pay for using magic.”
“What kind of price?” she asked, intrigued by what she’d just seen.
Arlene shrugged her dainty shoulders. “It would depend on what magic you use. Maybe nothing for what I just did, but lets say you want to win the heart of a certain gentleman. That could cost you a lot because you would be taking that person’s free will from them.”
“So it would be safe … as long as you don’t do anything that would influence someone else?”
“Well also you wouldn’t want to do black magic,” Arlene told her. “If you did, you would have to deal with dark entities, and they aren’t good.”
“Why would someone with powers like yours, be here?” Laurel asked.
“No where else to go.” Arlene frowned. “Just like you, Mora took me off the street. She thinks she is some kind of angel of mercy. Mora might seem a little rough around the edges, but she has a good heart.”
Laurel smiled. “Yes, I think so.”
“Show me what you can do,” Arlene urged.
“I can’t do anything.” Laurel shook her head.
“Sure you can. Just concentrate,” she said, pointing to her head. “Envision the power of the earth and the moon. That is where you will get your magic.”
Daughter of the Thirteen: Bourbon Street Witches Book 1 Page 4
