by Carly Fall
She waited while the sage burned down until it resembled ash, then blew out the candle. Sitting on the couch, she listened to the sparrows and finches outside sing their songs. The low hum of traffic on a busy street a few blocks away also met her ears as she waited for something to happen.
After a half-hour, she stood, disappointment railing through her. She didn't know what she'd expected. Fireworks? A genie to appear?
Glancing around the room, everything was just as it should be. A pile of mail lay on the kitchen table. A sink full of dishes that she hadn't bothered washing after yesterday's brunch. Bouquets of flowers covered most of the counter surfaces.
And the worst part ... she felt exactly the same. The loneliness and heartache hadn't dissipated at all.
"Burning a herb and a candle in a windowsill is not going to make your life go away," she said to the empty room.
As she spun in a slow circle looking at the mess, she longed to burn the place down and walk away, but she couldn't do that to the memories this house held for her.
Instead, she sighed and went into the kitchen. Her mother would have a fit if she could see the house looking like this. She reached for the soap and scrub brush, and proceeded to do dishes.
3
The next day, a sneezing fit woke her, and without hesitation, she knew the culprit. After dressing, she gathered up the dozen or so vases of flowers and took them down to the local hospital, where the volunteer at the front desk assured her they'd be delivered to the sick who had no one to visit them.
She went back home and cleaned the main floor of the house while listening to her favorite singer, George Michael--a soul that taken from this Earth far too early. She sang at the top of her lungs as she scrubbed the baseboards and every slat of the blinds. Knowing she should continue her cleaning spree in the basement, she couldn't bring herself to go down there again.
The longer the day went on, the more disappointed she became. She'd gone to bed hopeful that when she woke, her life would change significantly, that someone would provide her a way to work past her pain.
At noon, the doorbell rang, and she rushed to answer it, her heart pounding wildly, her gut telling her this had to be it.
Flinging open the door so hard that it hit the wall and bounced back against her shoulder, she stared into empty space, and her stomach dropped. She had hoped someone would be there to invite her into the Operation Underworld organization. Maybe it had been a joke, or maybe they’d reconsidered. What skills did she possess? Really, none. Yes, she was physically strong, and she was a vampire. Did that really constitute anything special?
But if they didn't want her, if she was so incredibly ordinary, why invite her to begin with?
She glanced down, and a manila envelope caught her eye under the welcome mat. Bending over, she grabbed it, then went back into the house and sat down at the kitchen table.
Inside the envelope was a plane ticket to New Orleans. She grinned as her heart thundered in her chest, a surge of hope that hadn't been present for weeks rising through her. When she looked at the day and time of her flight, she furrowed her brow, then checked her phone to make sure. Yes, they wanted her to leave first thing in the morning. It wasn't a lot of time to get her affairs in order, but it was enough.
She tried to come up with some reason not to go, but couldn't. The house was hers, and her mother, who had come from a wealthy family and had brought a large sum of money with her from Turkey, had made sure the bills had been paid for the next four months before she'd passed. The gardener would keep up the rose bushes and shrubbery. She could have the mail forwarded once she had an idea where she would be staying. Sami had quit her part-time job after her father's death so she could find his murderers and also take care of her mother.
Getting away from Los Angeles would be a good thing. She could focus on something else besides her parents' death and her loneliness, and she would be working on something important and exciting.
The past few months had taken a lot out of her. She'd teamed up with Connor to find the vampires responsible for killing her father, and in her eyes, her mother, as well. She'd witnessed vampire addiction to human blood and the awful, barbaric behavior that went along with it. And the last weeks of her mother's life ... she'd watched her get weaker and weaker, literally deteriorating before her eyes. She had seen things more horrific than she could ever have imagined.
She should probably call Sarah, her blood donor, and have her come over for a feeding. Even though she'd drunk from Connor a couple of weeks ago, she still felt the strain on her body from the stress. However, she'd drunk from Sarah five times now, and each time, it had turned into a sexual escapade. She recalled the tangled limbs, the sweet scent of Sarah's arousal while she lapped at her core, then pierced her vein. The two tastes together had been heavenly. Sarah's ragged breaths while Sami dragged her fangs over her nipple came to her ears, and she found herself aroused just thinking about it.
Was that what she really wanted and needed at this point? Yes, she needed the blood, but even though her heart beat a little bit quicker at the memories, at that moment, she didn't want the sex. Yes, drinking had been amazing with Sarah, but nothing would ever compare to Connor and the sweet taste of his blood.
As she pushed the thoughts aside, she concentrated on the present.
She had tried to use the reserve bags of blood they kept in the house to keep her mother alive, but Eris wouldn't take a drop. Sami could use one of those for a little pick-me-up. It wouldn't be as powerful as fresh from the source, but it would do.
It was time to stop wallowing in her grief, her empty life, and to start a new adventure. Her parents would want her to do it, to go and experience new things, places, and people.
As she stood, energy pulsed through her, and her lips actually turned into a bit of a smile. She had a purpose and a direction, even though she really had no idea where it would lead.
"You've got a lot to do before you leave in the morning," she said to the empty house. "You better get started, girl."
Walking into her bedroom, she made a mental list of what she needed to pack.
4
She landed in New Orleans in the late rainy afternoon, nervously stepping off the plane, yet eager to find out where she’d go next. She stopped and glanced around the terminal, and then made her way to baggage claim. As she approached the carousels, she saw a gentleman standing with her name neatly printed on a sign in his hands. Relief swept through her as she hadn’t even considered what she should do once she landed in New Orleans until she’d been somewhere over Texas during her flight from Los Angeles.
The man introduced himself as Max, then led her over to retrieve her bag. They waited in silence, which was fine with her. She felt too anxious for small talk.
The purple and black suitcase came down the chute, and she reached to grab it as it circled past her. Max stopped her and heaved it off the belt himself. He cut her a sideways glance, and she could practically read his thoughts. The bag weighed a lot, and she knew she’d over-packed. However, it would have been helpful if Operation Underworld had given her some type of dress code. She had six pairs of shoes packed, as well as everything from jeans to an evening gown. The damn thing was bursting at the seams.
She followed him out of the airport to a black car in the parking garage. He opened the door for her, and as she slid in, he popped the trunk. A low curse fell from his lips as he heaved her bag into the space, then he slammed it shut.
A trickle of sweat ran down her back. The humidity was far worse in New Orleans than Los Angeles, and it was as if it clung to her hair and skin, and also to her lungs. When Max started the car and the air conditioner came on, she breathed in deeply and tilted her face up to the vent, loving the cool, dry air and the relief it offered her.
As they drove into the city, she recognized the iconic Crescent City Bridge where people had been stranded after Hurricane Katrina. She remembered being glued to the television coverage of the aftermath
of that storm, completely awed by its power and the destruction it had delivered, not to mention the horrible deaths. She and her mother had cried watching it all unfold, but had been unable to turn it off.
They maneuvered their way through two lane streets where the sound of jazz music filtered through the car windows, and she knew her parents would have fallen in love with the city.
They pulled up in front of a beautiful three-story, Victorian home. Wrought-iron trellises snaked up the front while the middle and top floor windows had been blacked out. She imagined at night, the house would look like something out of a scary movie, but in the daytime, she stared at a well-maintained and preserved, beautiful piece of history.
She moved up the narrow, cement path between two small patches of grass to the front door. Just as she raised her hand to knock, it opened, and before her stood a black woman wearing a small smile that crinkled the corners of her dark eyes. With dreadlocks piled on top of her head and held back with a purple bandanna, she wore a matching dress. Sami couldn’t help but immediately like her.
“Sami,” she said, as she took her hands in her own. “My name is Dedou. Come in, child, and welcome to my home. Max will bring your bag in around the back.”
“Thank you,” she murmured as she stepped inside.
Once the door closed, she waited for her eyes to adjust, then took a look around. There were hundreds of lit candles scattered around the room, offering the only light. The old, hardwood floor was scuffed and worn, and a walkway sandwiched between rows of tables covered in baskets led to an old wooden desk.
As Dedou linked her arms through hers and led her, she read some of the signage on the baskets—frog legs, spells, voodoo dolls. When they approached the desk, her heart rate ticked up a bit. She’d never stepped foot into a place like this, and the contents of the store rattled her a bit.
What have I walked into?
As if Dedou had heard her unasked question, she said, “This is my shop. It is the best Voodoo shop in New Orleans, and those who are serious about their religion come to me.”
Dedou’s words comforted her a bit. She understood the importance of religious practices as her mother had applied her Muslim faith to almost all aspects of her life. Her father had been a Catholic agnostic, and Sami considered herself a believer, but she didn’t follow the doctrine of any religion.
“I have made some food for you. I assumed you’d be hungry when you arrived.”
With their arms still intertwined, Dedou led her down the hall to a kitchen. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was white and bright with sunlight, a direct contradiction to the store.
“Please, sit, Sami,” Dedou said, motioning to the table.
As she sat down, Dedou walked over to the stove and pulled out a bowl from the cupboard to her left. She lifted the lid off a pot and grabbed a ladle, then scooped out a few spoonfuls. With a grin, she placed it in front of Sami.
“Eat, child.”
The scents of garlic and peppers wafting up from the serving in front of her made her mouth water and her stomach howl. She picked up the spoon and dug in greedily. The burst of flavor from the kidney beans, onions, and mushrooms made her outwardly moan.
“This is wonderful. Thank you so much.”
Dedou smiled with pride and nodded. “I’m so happy you like it.”
Sami ate, very aware of Dedou’s penetrating gaze. However, it didn’t bother her, and in a way, it reminded her of the way her mother used to look at her before she became really sick. It was as if she could read her heart and soul, and she smiled at the woman.
After a few moments, Dedou spoke. “I’m sorry for your losses this year.”
This caught her a bit off guard, but she supposed the organization would have done their homework on her. She wiped her mouth with the blue, cloth napkin, and nodded. “Thank you.”
“The spirits tell me that your mother and father are together, and they watch over you now.”
Her stomach clenched, and sweat formed on her brow, but she didn’t know if it was from Dedou’s proclamation or the seasonings in the stew.
She tried to smile, and nodded. After spending more than a year considering first where her father had gone, and then her mother, she still hadn’t come to any hard and fast conclusions.
“I am a Voodoo priestess, Sami. I am in tune with my spirit guides. They are never wrong, so I know what I say to be the truth.” Dedou reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “All will be well, child. The ache in your heart with lessen, and it will be replaced with something magnificent.”
A lump formed in her throat. Tears welled in her eyes, and she tried to swallow.
She’d come here to try to forget the pain and to find some sort of adventure or new life. She didn’t want to cry anymore, yet, basic etiquette begged for her to answer the woman.
“Thank you,” she murmured, not wanting to discuss it further.
Dedou patted her hand, then got up and moved over to the sink. “You finish eating, then I’ll take you up to your room.”
She spooned more of the stew into her mouth. It didn’t taste as good now, and after a few bites, she stood and brought her bowl to the sink.
Dedou took it and laid it in the porcelain basin, then grabbed a towel and wiped her hands.
“Come, Sami. I’ll show you your room. You rest this afternoon, and you and I will meet again a little later.”
“I’d like to know a little bit more about Operation Underworld and what I’ll be doing here,” Sami said, curious at what her job entailed.
“Of course you do,” Dedou replied with a smile. “I have every intention of telling you, but first, you must rest.”
Dedou took her hand and walked her back down the hall to a winding staircase. The floorboards creaked as they climbed it, and Sami found herself looking forward to a nap.
They stopped in front of the second room on the right. Dedou opened the door to a room decorated in a mossy green color.
As Sami stepped in, she noted the two twin beds, one upon which her suitcase lay, an antique Victorian dresser, and the shiny hardwood flooring. The room was truly beautiful, just like the rest of the house.
“That door will lead to the bathroom,” Dedou said, pointing to the other end of the room.
She smiled, pleased with her accommodations. “Thank you. This is wonderful.”
Dedou nodded. “I’ll be up to get you in a bit. Then, we will discuss business.”
As the door shut, Sami smiled, even though exhaustion pulled at her limbs.
She needed to use the restroom, then she’d lie down. Although tired, excitement ran through her at the prospect of her new position with Operation Underworld.
Humming softly to herself, she walked toward the bathroom.
When she opened the door, she realized the water was running, but it was too late.
She gasped and raised her hand to her mouth, unable to believe who stood before her.
Connor.
The man she’d lost because of her lies and deceit turned to face her—completely in the nude. She couldn’t help it—her gaze grazed over his wide shoulders, strong arms, tapered waist, his thick sex, and muscular legs. That amazing body had brought her to heights of pleasure where she’d literally seen stars and wondered if she could die from sheer ecstasy. She’d never known anything like it before, and had doubted she ever would again.
When her stare landed on those amazing hazel eyes, she saw the utter surprise of their meeting. How had this happened?
He didn’t try to cover himself as he stood seemingly paralyzed, gaping at her.
“Sami?” he asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She lowered her hand to her side, unable to form any words, and noted the door on the other side of the bathroom that led to another bedroom. Based on the clothing she could see littering the floor, it had to be Connor’s.
As if he finally realized he was nude, he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. When
he met her gaze again, anger had replaced the astonishment.
Recalling his fury the last time they had seen each other, she found her voice.
“I’m … I’m so sorry, Connor.”
She shut the door and backed into her room with tears in her eyes. Did she apologize for walking in on him in the bathroom, or the trust they’d shared and she’d broken?
Her first instinct was to run … just grab her bag and head down the staircase. But then, the door flew open so hard, it slammed into the wall behind it. Connor stared at her, his rage apparent. He gripped the towel around his waist with such force, his knuckles had whitened. His full mouth had flattened into a hard line, his hazel eyes almost seeming to blaze with fire. For a moment, a little bit of fear tickled her spine, but she also knew Connor would never physically harm her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked again.
She took a deep breath and stood up a little straighter. “I was invited here.”
He rubbed his hand over his head, a gesture he did often when thinking or irritated. When they’d worked together to bring down the rogue vampires that had killed her father, she’d insisted they spruce up his simple wardrobe so he fit in better in the nightclubs. On that day in the mall, she’d thought he would rub the hair right off his head.
“Who? Who invited you?” he demanded.
“Dedou.”
He cursed under his breath. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I received a note that said my skills and intelligence would be beneficial to the organization in their hunt for vampires.”
“What skills? Is there something else you neglected to tell me?”
That stung a bit, but she shrugged it off. “Maybe the fact that I am a vampire is a skill in itself, Connor.”
Then, she remembered he had said he was part of the military. He’d told her nothing about Operation Underworld, and it seemed she’d caught him in a lie.
She crossed her arms over her chest, the sting of betrayal hitting her heart. “Apparently, I’m not the only one who wasn’t truthful, because this place looks nothing like the military. Didn’t you say that’s who you worked for?”
