The Malveaux Curse Mysteries Boxset 2

by G A Chase

  He pushed and pulled at the rust-weakened bar until it finally came free of its fellow soldiers. It wasn’t the Samedi cane, but the iron rod made him feel invincible. Eyeing the rest of the rails, he knew they too might come in handy. “I’ve been reduced to Iron Age tools. One problem at a time.”

  He turned back to the shop and dragged the bar along the concrete curb to sharpen the end. When he got back to Delphine’s shop, he didn’t bother with the stairs. From the sidewalk, he thrust the iron bar into the doorknob with such ferocity that it sailed halfway through the door. The weathered wood looked as though it had been harpooned. He refrained from expressing his feeling of satisfaction. There was still too far to go before he could claim any victory.

  The door opened with only a slight push. He pulled the bar out like a warrior who’d just skewered his adversary with a sword. The front room, where Delphine kept the fragrances she used for mixing her potions, was empty—just like every other building in the Quarter.

  “Don’t get discouraged. The bank’s lobby was empty too.”

  As he approached the curtain to the back room, he began to understand why people prayed. It had nothing to do with believing a greater being would heed their request and everything to do with thinking they could change reality through force of will.

  He ripped the curtain halfway off of the rod. “Since I seem to be alone in this world, I decree that no room will remain closed to my desires.”

  His heart beat faster at seeing that her office retained the curio cabinets filled with voodoo fetishes. He squeezed around the largest wood-and-glass unit and into the room hidden behind it. He’d never been so happy to see Delphine’s gaudy African-motif throne. He fell into the chair and looked around at her walls of journals and artifacts with a renewed sense of optimism.

  2

  “We should move in together.” Kendell’s words ricocheted around in Myles’s brain like a bullet fired into a steel drum.

  Not that the idea hadn’t been hinted at. After nearly a year of dating, they’d managed to avoid the inevitable for longer than he thought possible. Still, some ideas had to be approached with all the skill of a bomb-disposal unit.

  “I thought you liked your independence.”

  Her laugh didn’t help. “You should see your face. I’m not talking about getting married.”

  From her emphasis on the word, he could tell she’d intentionally tried to make him squirm. “So you don’t want to move in together?”

  Her blush often said more than her words. “I love you, and I know you feel the same about me. But my proposal is not based on our relationship. It isn’t even a matter of saving money or some bullshit like that. We’ve been through a couple of life-threatening—and soul-stealing—adventures. I feel safer when you’re around. And without trying to infringe on your masculinity, I worry about you on the nights that you’re not here.”

  From the bed, he looked around her girly bedroom, wondering how he’d fit in. “I suppose with Colin in hell, we’ll have to be watching our backs. Sanguine’s explanation of her grandmother’s metaphysical cage didn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

  She rolled her cup of morning coffee between her hands as she sat next to him in her oversized nightshirt. “It’s not like we won’t have our own lives. With me working mornings at the coffee shop and you working nights at the bar, we’re already finding it hard to spend time together.”

  “And the nights that I am off, you’re usually playing with the band. I suppose being threatened by evil spirits is one of the few things we end up doing together. We should look into changing that.”

  Her big smoky-brown eyes had a way of melting his resolve. “Living together could make that easier. I wouldn’t suggest we live here. We could find a place that would work for both of us.”

  “I suppose you’ve already talked this over with Cheesecake?”

  The Lhasa apso hurried into the room at hearing her name. “She would have let you move in from the day you rescued her from the dognappers. A girl doesn’t forget that kind of thing—and a human girl doesn’t either.”

  He’d played the delaying tactic too many times, and she had a valid point. If anything, each time they thought they’d won, their adversary grew stronger. “I’d want to stay in the Quarter. I know the Marigny or Bywater might make more sense, and we could get more space for the money, but this feels like where I belong.”

  “No argument there. I’ll start poking around after work. Polly says she has a Realtor who’s good at finding reasonably priced rentals. She even has an in for getting a place in the Lower Pontalba.”

  “Would you really want to live on Jackson Square?” He realized too late that he’d been seduced into agreeing to her proposal.

  * * *

  Charlie stood at the bar, holding a bottle of scotch in one and a glass half-filled with ice in the other. His mouth was open far too dramatically. “Dude. Tell me you’re joking.”

  Myles continued making up the rum and Coke for the early evening customer. “Knock it off. You know we’ve been dating for nearly a year. It’s not like anything’s going to change.”

  The lead bartender returned to his duties. “Keep telling yourself that. Who am I going to party with? All our adventures? I’m disappointed in you.”

  Myles had allowed his friend to rib him long enough. “You like Kendell.”

  “No doubt. She’s not my type, but that dark, mysteriously witchy vibe is undeniable. My opposition has nothing to do with her personally.” He grabbed a bottle of El Dorado 12 Year Old rum. “I will bet you this bottle that things change by this time next year.”

  Myles was beginning to get testy. “I’m not going anywhere. Kendell’s not going to quit singing. We both love our independence. So knock it off.”

  Charlie turned to the guitarist who led the house band. “Hey, Jackson, what’s that Beatles song about a guy who’s married to a singer?”

  The guy started strumming “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.” The few regulars in the bar quickly picked up on the joke and substituted Myles for Desmond and Kendell for Molly in the lyrics. Everyone sang along, much to Myles’s humiliation—especially when he was the one putting on his pretty face to become a singer with the band.

  “Very funny.”

  Charlie could be an ass, but he knew when he’d taken a joke far enough. “Just don’t go getting another dog. That’s always the next step. Cheesecake will forever be Kendell’s mutt, but if you guys get another pooch, it’ll be more binding than a wedding ring.”

  “What would I do with a dog? Kendell would be the first to tell you I can barely look after myself. No way she’d trust me with another living being.”

  “Well, that’s the truth. You only get by…” Charlie pointed at the guitarist, who broke into, “With a Little Help from My Friends.”

  This is going to be a long night.

  * * *

  Kendell never realized there were so many hidden bungalows, old slave quarters, and lofts available for rent in the seventy-eight square blocks of the French Quarter. “Thanks for coming with me. I’m afraid I really don’t know much about apartment hunting. I lucked into the place on Decatur Street.”

  When it was just the two of them, Polly liked to walk arm in arm with Kendell. Every man, and most women, took quick glances at the couple as they sauntered down the street.

  “Are you kidding?” Polly said. “I haven’t seen the inside of the Lower Pontalba since I had that one-night stand, and I wasn’t spending a lot of time admiring the architecture, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’ll bet you got a good look at the crown moldings.”

  Polly hip-checked Kendell for the comment. “All I meant was it’s not the kind of place girls like us usually find for rent. Snazzy would be the term I’d use. At least that’s what the Louisiana State Museum, which manages the building, is hoping for.”

  As they walked past Saint Louis Cathedral, Kendell admired the four-story Lower Pontalba that took up the entire next
block. “You know Myles and I can’t afford this.”

  “No one can. At least not anyone who works for a living. But since you are looking for a place and I do have a friend who’s a Realtor, what’s the harm in doing a little window shopping?”

  Though she knew what Polly meant, the mention of windows made Kendell inspect the elegant verandas. “Still with the double-hung windows? For these prices, you’d think they’d upgrade to French doors.”

  “Keeps you limber. Plus, they’re better at keeping the rain out during a storm.”

  As Polly’s Realtor ushered them into the grand apartment, Kendell knew looking at it would be waste of time even if she had the money. “I don’t know. Seems awfully upscale. Cheesecake’s not a big fan of snooty people for neighbors. She likes her comfort. And Myles would never fit in.”

  Polly, however, intended to enjoy the opulence. “Just look at all this light. They must have remodeled within the last year. Everything’s so new and clean.” She twirled around the living room, which was full of historically correct details. “Living here would be like being a Disney princess.”

  “Okay, Cinderella, but I’ve got to find someplace reasonable. I can’t show Myles this. He’s barely hanging onto the string of moving in together.”

  Polly sighed and gave a cheek kiss to her Realtor. “A girl can try. Thanks for taking the time to let us see it.”

  “No problem. It gives me a chance to daydream too.”

  Back out on the street, Polly was less excited about the next prospect. “Why are you two moving in together anyway? I thought you liked living on your own.”

  “I do. That’s why we need a place big enough so we won’t be under each other’s feet all the time. Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

  Polly could be pretty harsh on people she was still evaluating, but once she’d made up her mind, she was a die-hard friend. “I told you before, Myles is one of the good ones. Doesn’t mean I’m going to quit ribbing him, but between you and me, he’s definitely long-term-relationship material. I’m just wondering if this is you wanting a live-in boyfriend or a bodyguard.”

  Kendell watched the broken, uneven concrete as she walked. “You’re not wrong. But it’s not just about him riding to my rescue like some white knight. I’ve saved him too, thanks in part to you and the band. I could deal with the dangerous world. It’s the dangerous beyond that makes me want to hold him and Cheesecake tight.”

  Polly had been there when they’d released the power of Baron Samedi’s cane. She’d helped free Myles from the baron Malveaux. She’d even rounded up the band to help rescue Cheesecake in Float World from her abductors. Few knew of the dangers Kendell faced. Fewer had stood shoulder to shoulder with her through every battle.

  “I’m not judging,” Polly said. “I just want to be sure you know what you’re getting into. Guys have a way of seeing living together as leading to something more permanent.”

  Though Kendell had joked with Myles about marriage, such an idea wasn’t even on the horizon. “If I’ve learned anything from my study of voodoo and my time traveling the nether worlds with Myles, it’s to live in the moment.” She looked up at a faded sign that hung from a third-floor balcony. “And at this moment, I’d like to check out that apartment.”

  Having spent the day looking at apartments—from recently remodeled, overpriced ones to run-down hovels that she wouldn’t feel comfortable letting Cheesecake take a piss in—she’d begun to despair. Polly had been a great companion. Her optimism and excitement made the project feel like shopping at high-end clothing stores with a dear friend, but they weren’t just browsing. Kendell needed to have something to show to Myles, and she didn’t have much time left in the day.

  They passed the small bakery that occupied the ground floor and opened the green door to the alleyway that led to the back of the building. As they closed the door to the street, Polly whispered, “Every time I sneak into one of these hidden passageways, I feel like I’m going back in time.”

  “I usually feel like someone’s going to jump me. At least this one has electric lights instead of those damn gaslights. Those things never put out enough light.” The grand archway at the back of the building opened up to a courtyard garden with three-story-tall brick walls on all sides. Kendell stared up at the open balconies. “This is nice and private.”

  “Yeah. Perfect place for Myles to contact his loa-of-the-dead friends. I think creepy was the word you were looking for.”

  Kendell brushed off Polly’s hesitation. The place had an old-world charm that hadn’t been glossed over by a modern contractor with more desire for money than authenticity. Fortunately, the stairs that led up to the small balcony connecting the apartments had been rebuilt. The balcony overlooked a small oasis.

  “Cross your fingers,” Kendell said. “I’d like to finish this adventure before it starts getting dark.”

  Two adjoining doors led into the apartment. Polly pushed open the kitchen door. “First impression?”

  It had become a standard question. So far, the places that didn’t survive Kendell’s first glance hadn’t recovered, no matter what amenities they had. “Light, airy, not overly ostentatious but certainly not a man cave. So far, so good.” She ran her hand along the brick wall. At one time, the whole place had been plastered over, but interior decorators had found that cutting the plaster to look as though it had fallen off the walls made for nice patterns of smooth white finish and rough red brick. When an apartment was in a state of decay, the result was depressing and eerie. As a fashion statement, though, the effect was quite compelling.

  Polly was much better than Kendell at breaking down strengths and weaknesses, both in people and in places. “Decent stainless-steel appliances—not new, so you won’t get dinged for damaging the finish, but functional. I do like the light fixtures.”

  “The kitchen’s not very large, but then, neither of us likes to cook.”

  The place had the traditional confusing layout of old apartments that had been initially designed as a single palatial family residence. Kendell had to catch her breath when she opened the door to the living room with its three sets of French doors. Each one led out to a terrace lit by the early evening. “Sold.”

  Polly laughed. “Don’t you think Myles should have a look before you plop down his bar tips?”

  Kendell was only barely paying attention. “Look at all that lovely cast-iron latticework. It’s even nicer than my place on Decatur.”

  “And bigger.” Polly opened the restored glass doors to the large balcony. “And you’d have the whole space—no more sharing with your neighbors.”

  Kendell tried to remain analytical, but all she could come up with were the apartment’s selling points. “The location is perfect. The space is amazing. Everything’s so much newer than in either of our apartments.”

  “I wouldn’t include Myles’s place for your comparisons. A doghouse would have more amenities. Didn’t anyone tell him slave quarters are supposed to be remodeled into something modern before they’re rented out?”

  Kendell didn’t mind Polly’s jabs, especially when Myles wasn’t around to take offense. “His place isn’t that bad, but I agree—anything I find is bound to be better.”

  “So I guess the real question is, how will Cheesecake feel?”

  * * *

  Myles remembered something he’d heard on a touristy carriage ride through the Quarter about each Creole wedding couple being locked in their apartment until they’d consummated their relationship. He only had a handful of items that Kendell deemed acceptable, but everyone was helping him move them—and nearly everything she owned—to the new place. He felt distinctly as though he was being set up.

  But he had to admit the place was pretty amazing. “At least being on the third floor, I won’t have to worry about what I’m wearing when I sneak out to the terrace at night. Though I guess I’m going to have to hit up Papa Ghede about paying me for my services.”

  Kendell hugged him tightly
. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so happy when it didn’t involve Cheesecake—either the dog or the dessert. “We’ll get by. It’s not like either of us spends much money. I’m just happy you agreed to move in together. I’m starting to feel like a real grown-up.”

  “Life isn’t too bad now that we’re not being hounded by the dead.” He knew the break was temporary, but that made the time to explore his relationship with Kendell all the more precious.

  Cheesecake ran from room to room then out through one door to the balcony and back in through another. She looked like she was trying every access to make sure they all worked.

  Charlie served up drinks to keep everyone in the right frame of mind. Kendell’s bandmates from Polly Urethane and the Strippers arranged the furnishings—then rearranged them. The women worked like a design committee that didn’t seek his input. By the end of the day, everyone was crashed in the eclectically decorated living room.

  Myles lounged back against the arm of the newly acquired used-furniture-store couch with Kendell snuggled tightly to his side. “You guys did a remarkable job. In less than eight hours, I went from living in my man dungeon—as Kendell called it—to third-floor luxury.”

  Charlie passed him a rum and Coke. “Just don’t expect me to move you every weekend. Hanging around with you is giving me a workout.”

  “I know we’ve been leaning on everyone here quite a lot lately,” Myles said. “You guys are all more than friends. It’d be too easy to call you family. Even family wouldn’t put up with what we’ve put you through.”

  Polly got up from one of the floor cushions. “When Myles starts getting sappy, I know it’s time to go. It’s that damn rum—it makes you all sentimental. You’re a lot more fun when you drink beer.”