Daughter of the Thirteen: Bourbon Street Witches Book 1

by Lorraine Kennedy

  Arlene pointed to the closet door. “You shut it.”

  Though she had her doubts it would work, Laurel focused on the closet door. Thinking about the moon, she imagined pulling the moonlight into herself and forcing it out through her finger.

  The door slammed with a loud bang.

  “Fantastic!” Arlene exclaimed. “You did well … for it being your first time. But you’ll have to learn to control it.”

  Laurel slipped into silence, contemplating what this all meant.

  She was a witch!

  “So what’s your story?” Arlene asked. “What are you doing here?”

  There was something about Arlene she liked, and she really did want someone to talk to.

  Laurel told her about the convent, and about Marcos. She didn’t even leave out any of the embarrassing details.

  She needed help, and she felt if anyone could help her, it would be Arlene.

  When she finished, she saw a frown was tugging at the corners of Arlene’s mouth.

  “What is it? What did I say wrong?”

  Arlene shook her head. “Nothing. It just reminds me of something Mora told me. She said I should stay away from the covens because they were big trouble. According to Mora, there’s a coven that made a pact with the devil to give birth to his children … and that one of the witches ran away. They hunted her down and killed her.”

  A band of grief tightened around Laurel’s throat until she could barely breathe. She’d already had the idea that her mother was probably dead, but hearing it made it real.

  “You two look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  The voice came from the open bedroom door where Mora was standing. “What are you doing?”

  “Close the door,” Arlene instructed.

  A funny look crossed Mora’s face, but she came in and closed the door. “This better be good. If Madam notices I’m gone, she’ll be after me in no time … you too Arlene.”

  Arlene turned to Laurel. “Tell her what you told me.”

  She didn’t feel quite as comfortable with Mora as she did Arlene, but she told her everything.

  Her eyes seemed to take on a distant quality, as if she’d stepped out momentarily.

  Suddenly coming back to the moment, Mora blurted, “Us coming together can’t be a coincidence.”

  Leveling her eyes on Laurel, she asked, “And this guardian … he knows you’re here now?”

  Laurel nodded. “I just saw him from the window when Arlene came in.”

  This news seemed to trouble both girls.

  “You need to stay away from him,” Mora declared. “He has to be a demon. Only demons can plant visions in your head like that. Witches are that good at it.”

  “But I always thought witches could make you see thing,” Laurel interrupted. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe St. Claire might be a demon, but that she really had no idea what a witch’s limitations were.

  Mora shook her head. “They might be able to make you think something for a second, maybe even plant a vision, but nothing that detailed. The vision would be more like seeing an instant in time.”

  Laurel began pacing the floor. “What if he comes after me? I’m not really safe as long as he knows where I am.”

  The thought of facing Marcos was terrifying, especially now that she knew what he might be. But even as fear blossomed in the pit of her stomach, so did that strange exhilaration she’d felt when he kissed her.

  She was being haunted, not just by demons, but also by her own desire.

  Mora draped an arm around Laurel’s shoulders. “You have to calm down. To beat a demon you have to be sharp,” she said, pointing to her head. “If you panic, he will have already won.”

  “I think we have to find out why this is happening to her,” Arlene put in, getting up from the bed.

  Mora nodded. “Give me a couple of days to think on this. I know someone who might be able to help.”

  Laurel wasn’t sure she could last a couple days, especially if she continued to see him lurking in the cemetery.

  Chapter Seven

  Mist rose from the earth to blanket the streets of New Orleans. It was a strange, almost unearthly fog. Those who stopped long enough to notice, might see that the fog seemed to have glowing red tinge to it, but unless you were paying close attention, that detail would be missed.

  Most of the population didn’t pay it any mind. It was weird for this time of year, but their lives were too busy to worry about something as insignificant as night fog. Those who did notice, simply shrugged it off.

  The red glow must be too much pollution in the air.

  It was autumn after all.

  Though New Orleans was typically warm at this time of year, the nights had turned unseasonably cool. With so many people burning their fireplaces to warm their homes, there was bound to be more pollution.

  That had to be why the night fog was different.

  At least that’s what most people assumed.

  Marcos knew better.

  The door to the Underworld was open. What people were seeing was pollution, but it wasn’t because of burning coal or wood. This pollution came right from the depths of Hell.

  As soon as the door to Hell opened, the demons and foul spirits of the Underworld began flooding into the city. Now the city was littered with toxic evil.

  The soft glowing light in her bedroom window went out.

  His angel witch was slipping into sleep. The connection between them was so strong, he could actually feel her drifting away. That connection was the same reason he could feel her fear, as well as her desire.

  She would never be safe until he’d planted his seed in her womb. Even then, there were no guarantees. The Dark Prince would be furious, but he may let her live to ensure the bloodline continues.

  He might let Laurel live, but had little doubt the Dark Prince would turn his fury on his son.

  That was a risk he was willing to take. What did it matter if he were dragged into Hell? In the end, that would be his final destination anyway.

  For now his nights would be spent watching over her.

  Bending his knees slightly, he jumped fifteen feet into the air, landing on top of a white crypt.

  To the human eye it would look as if he’d simply disappeared and reappeared, but it was a series of movements.

  Superhuman strength was just one of the abilities that came to him through his father. Springing from the ground to the top of a crypt was nothing.

  Marcos had many advantages over the average human. He could manipulate the mind, and touch their soul without them ever realizing it. But despite all these talents, he still found no success in persuading the witch to his bed.

  She wanted it.

  He could sense it. She craved his touch almost as much as he did hers, but still she managed to withstand those cravings.

  Laurel had to come to his bed willingly or the child he sired would not live. It was the order of things. One must succumb to the darkness of their own accord, or there would be no balance of darkness and light.

  * * *

  Arlene smiled wide with approval as she stood back to examine Laurel from head to toe. “Well aren’t you a bit of heaven.”

  Blood rushed to Laurel’s cheeks.

  She wasn’t accustomed to compliments. In the gray world she’d grown up in, vanity was frowned on.

  Laurel’s eyes strayed to the mirror.

  The ivory satin and lace gown was the most beautiful thing she’d ever worn.

  “Thank you … but I believe you are just being very nice,” she told Arlene, an unsure smile tugging at her mouth.

  “Nonsense!” Arlene placed her hands on her hips. “Most of the ladies here would kill for your looks.

  Again she blushed.

  Laurel decided that if she’d ever had a sister, she’d have wanted one just like Arlene. She was good-natured, kind, and opened her heart to others with no qualms.

  “Well we might as well go downstairs and get this done,�
�� Arlene prompted.

  Laurel’s mood shifted suddenly.

  How could she do this?

  Her sin with Phillip was bad enough. This would tarnish her soul even more.

  “I don’t think I can.” Laurel shook her head.

  “It was difficult for me the first time too,” Arlene confessed. “But I don’t think Madam will put you on the stage tonight. This time at least, you’ll just be expected to mingle with the gentlemen.”

  That helped her to feel a little better.

  She could dance, smile and flirt easy enough. That’s exactly how she’d gotten tangled up with Phillip.

  “Okay,” Laurel sighed. “Let’s get this done.”

  When they reached the parlor, Laurel took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.

  She had to make this a success. If Madam Arlington put her out, not only would she be miserable and homeless, but it would put her at a disadvantage against St. Claire.

  The gentlemen in attendance were far different than she’d imagined they’d be. These were well-groomed men of breeding; many of them were wealthy and powerful. That was easy enough to see.

  Despite their appearance, something told her that just because they were gentlemen, that distinction wouldn’t mean a lot if they managed to get her behind closed doors.

  Mora came out of nowhere and grasped her hand. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Laurel let Mora pull her through the crowd until they came to a large settee.

  Mora motioned to where a man that was sitting there, relaxing with his drink. He appeared to be in his mid forties, with a brown - gray beard, and spectacles.

  “You’re going to say hello to this gentleman,” Mora spoke under her breath.

  “Hello Mister Dodson. I thought you might be interested in meeting our newest girl.” Mora put an extra twang to her words. “This is Laurel and she loves to dance.”

  Laurel stared at the man, unsure of what to say, especially as she could already sense the man’s lust.

  “Hello dear,” he said with a nod of his head. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Forcing a smile, Laurel shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”

  “How about a dance then?” he asked, placing his own drink on a nearby table.

  Her heart began thumping hard against her ribs. She would have declined if not for the sharp jab Mora delivered to her arm.

  Instead, she smiled and nodded. “That would be a pleasure Mousier Dodson.”

  When he clasped his hot - sweaty hand over her arm, she almost pulled away, but again Mora stopped her with a look of warning.

  A few seconds after leading her into a dance, his hands were all over her, but there wasn’t a lot of time to dwell on how repulsive his touch was.

  Suddenly the air around her grew heavy. It was so hot that Laurel was sure she’d melt, but yet it was icy cold at the same time.

  Marcos was near, and he was watching.

  She could feel his eyes on her.

  Glancing around the room, she saw him leaning against a wall, partially hidden in shadow.

  His anger was actually taking on a life of its own, invading the very atmosphere of the room.

  Now was the time to push home her point.

  She was free from him, and she was free to do as she pleased.

  Trembling inside, she moved in a little closer to her dance partner, purposely brushing up against him.

  Moaning, Dodson glanced down at her. “Do you have a room upstairs?” he asked, an almost ghoulish smile on his face.

  Before she could respond, she felt his hand on her shoulder, slowly moving down to brush her bare cleavage.

  Gasping, she pulled away. “I apologize, but I am feeling ill. Please excuse me.”

  She was so fixated on getting away, she rushed toward the first exit she could find, which happened to be the hall that would take her to the back of the house.

  The corridor was long and dark.

  Once she left the parlor, the sound of laughter and music began to fade, but now she could hear something else.

  The moaning and loud panting was coming from a small drawing room just to her left.

  Always curious, Laurel couldn’t help but take a peek at the source of all the noise. She should have been prepared for what she saw, but wasn’t.

  The man in the chair was completely naked, with his manhood fully erect. One of the kitchen girls was on her knees in front of him, moving her tongue up and down his erection.

  Before she had a chance to discreetly back out of the room, she felt hands on her waist. Spinning around, she found herself face to face with Marcos St. Claire.

  “Do you find the sight stimulating my angel witch?” The amusement in his voice scratched at her nerves.

  “Pardon me. I was just on my way to my room.” Laurel tried to pull away, but he was much too strong.

  He slowly moved his head from side to side. “You can’t lie to me Laurel. I can feel you burning, even through your clothes. You want to know what it feels like to have a cock in your mouth.”

  Swallowing hard, she again tried to leave. “I’m sure I’ll find out soon. I’ve decided to stay on here,” she informed him.

  He gave her a lopsided grin, unnerving her further. “Poor little angel witch. You are not a good liar. As soon as you find a way out of here, you’ll take it … as long as it’s not my way out.”

  Before she knew what was happening, he had her pinned against the thick plaster wall. Leaning into her, he whispered in her ear. “The way out is so easy Laurel. All you have to do is let me plant my seed in you … and all that you have ever dreamed of will be yours.”

  “You are a devil!” she breathed.

  His dark laughter was like being sprayed with scalding water. “An appropriate mate for a witch, don’t you think?”

  “Let me go!” she forced the words through clenched teeth.

  When his dark eyes clashed with hers, she became certain that she would fall into them and be lost forever.

  The eyes were windows into the soul.

  She remembered hearing that somewhere.

  If it were true, what she saw in his eyes both chilled her, and yanked at her heart.

  There was so much darkness there, but pain too. The pain she saw was like a cancer spreading over his entire being.

  He needed her to ease his pain.

  She could see that now.

  There was some humanity in him, if only a spark. But even a little humanity was something to build on.

  Just maybe if she approached this right, she might be able to get him to see reason.

  “Monsieur … what my mother did is not my fault. How can you hold me responsible for it?”

  Again he shook his head. “You are mistaken Laurel. It is not I who is holding you responsible. It is someone much more powerful than me … someone whose cruelty far surpasses mine. I just hope to save you from his wrath.”

  “And by going to your bed, I will be saved?” she asked, disbelief ringing in her voice.

  He lowered his head in what passed for a nod. “It is your only chance. If my father’s minions get to you first … you will be torn to bits. The Dark Prince would have you wiped from existence, before he would allow you to live. If you carry my child, he might reconsider.”

  What he was saying made sense, in a very strange way. But if he was the son of Satan, as he claimed, he could also be a master liar, like his father.

  “Please let me go.”

  Bowing his head, he murmured, “As you wish mademoiselle.”

  As quickly as the words rolled off his tongue, he backed away. Turning on his heels, he strolled down the hall, disappearing into the shadows.

  Suddenly realizing that she’d been holding her breath, she exhaled loudly.

  Whenever he was near, he managed to weave some kind of twisted spell over her, but now that he was gone and she had some breathing room, that spell began to dissipate.

  He was the son of Satan!r />
  How much more evil could someone get?

  She had to get out of here and go where he would never find her. Maybe she would even leave New Orleans.

  Making up her mind, she found her way to the service staircase that would take her to the upper levels of the house.

  Slipping away would be easy. Both Mora and Arlene were still entertaining in the parlor.

  Ignoring the guilt worming its way into her heart, she packed her bag, taking only her old gray dress and shoes. The girls would wonder what happened to her, but they’d forget after a few days and go on with their lives.

  The thought saddened her.

  Mora and Arlene were the closest she’d ever had to sisters, and now she wouldn’t even have them.

  It was best this way. At least if she were caught by the demons that Marcos had warned her about, she would not be putting her friends in danger.

  With new resolve, Laurel left the room. Again taking the service stairs, she slipped out the back door when she was sure no one was looking.

  Chapter Eight

  There were gas lanterns to illuminate the back courtyard, but the light they put off was too weak to penetrate the thick fog. It was a strange fog that seemed to gather at ground level, before reaching into the air with thick - winding fingers.

  When she looked closely, she could see that there was a weird red glow to the mist.

  Perhaps she was just seeing things.

  She closed her eyes for a short time, believing that when she opened them, the fog would appear normal, but it didn’t. It looked exactly the same.

  The annoying voice that originated from deep within her subconscious told her that the fog had something to do with Marcos’s warnings.

  She didn’t want to listen. It was easier to believe he was lying and that she was nothing more than a means to an end.

  Darting across the large courtyard, she reached the iron gate without being seen. Turning back, she took one last look at Madam Arlington’s establishment and then opened the gate.

  She had no clue where she would go.

  The courtyard bordered the alley behind the brothel. If she went left, it would be a long dark walk to Bienville. Her other option was Conti, but that meant going near the cemetery, which didn’t set well with her.