Nuit Aux Trois

by Melinda Barron

  Quinn swallowed a laugh. She figured the last part was directed at her.

  Martin closed his eyes and the room fell silent. He took several deep breaths and Quinn again admired his showmanship.

  Then, he sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled, the word, “Amedee,” coming out with his breath. “If you are present, come to us. Speak with us. Allow your name to be cleared of the deeds done by your former wife."

  There was no answer and Quinn wondered if Amedee would appear, or if he would stay silent.

  "Amedee,” Martin repeated. “Don't be afraid. Let us help you."

  The candlelight flickered and a few of the people gathered gasped.

  "Calm,” Martin said. “We need calm."

  The words were barely out of his mouth when a vase sitting on the sideboard lifted and flew through the air, slamming into the far wall. Next, a large glass bowl and a candlestick went airborne. The flame on the candle went out as it flew across the room.

  "Sortez de ma maison. Vous n'avez aucun droit! Sortez."

  The voice demanding that they leave the house was a woman's, and Quinn shuddered. She'd heard that voice before.

  "It's Delphie."

  "But it wasn't Delphie we talked with the other night,” Dev said. “It was Amedee."

  Martin cleared his throat and the room fell silent.

  "Delphie? Vous n'êtes pas désiré ici. Continuez sur le prochain avion. You are not wanted here. You must leave."

  Quinn almost laughed out loud. Telling this woman that she wasn't wanted here, and needed to move on, was like telling a child they couldn't have a toy as they stood in the middle of a toy shop.

  "Keep calling for Amedee,” Quinn said softly. “I think he's afraid of her, even in death. He has to know that she has no power over him."

  Martin nodded, and closed his eyes. “Amedee. Show us that you're stronger than this woman. Don't let her control you any longer."

  Delphie screamed when Martin repeated his entreaty in French. The room grew ice cold, and another glass bowl flew through the air, narrowly missing a female member of the audience.

  "She's going to destroy all my crystal,” Rachel said with a sob. “Stop her."

  "If you want me to stop, I will,” Martin said. “But you'll never learn the truth that way."

  Rachel looked at Dean, who nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “Fine. Continue."

  "If anyone wants to leave, now's the time to do it,” Martin said.

  Three spectators left and after the door was closed, Martin again asked for Amedee to come forth.

  Silence filled the room. Martin told Amedee, in French, and then in English, that he'd spoken with Alison that night.

  "Alison.” The word came out on a sob. “Mon Alison. Ou est-elle?"

  "We can help you find her,” Martin said. “But you have to break away from Delphie."

  "C'est tissé un charme autour de moi. Je ne peux pas me casser librement. Je veux mon Alison tellement mal. Et mon Cyrille."

  It was the first time Cyrille's name had been mentioned and Quinn felt a lump grow in her throat. Amedee's voice was full of sorrow.

  "There is no spell around you, Amedee.” Martin said. “All you have—"

  A woman's scream rent the air and Martin flew backward, his chair tipping over and hitting hard against the floor. Martin threw up his arms against the invisible force as Dev and Fletch stood and ran toward him. Both of them tried to grasp his arms, but were pushed backwards.

  Martin made a gurgling noise and Quinn felt her blood run cold. Delphie was going to kill him. She would make sure that anyone that tried to release Amedee from his self-inflected bonds would be punished. She couldn't let that happen.

  The room was in chaos now, people standing in small groups, clutched together as they watched the fight.

  Quinn stood and screamed out Amedee's name.

  "She took everything away from you, Amedee. Don't let her continue. Fight her. Stop her!

  "Fletch! Tell him that Alison is waiting for him. All he has to do is fight. All he has to do is break away from Delphie."

  Fletch repeated the words in French. He and Dev continued to fight the invisible force assaulting Martin, but Amedee heard what was said. His voice screamed out, and Dev and Fletch fell back. Martin was freed from the entity that attacked him, and a woman's voice shrieked in fear and pain.

  "Sorcière! Vous m'avez maintenu parti trop pour désirer ardemment de mon Alison. Allez à l'enfer. Vous n'avez plus la commande de moi."

  Amedee wished her to hell, his voice filled with pain and hatred as he took back the control he'd unknowingly given her.

  Delphie screamed once more, and then the room grew silent. The candlelight flickered, and the cold remained, but no words were spoken, no shrieks uttered.

  "Amedee?” Martin sat up, his hands going to his throat. His harsh breathing calmed as the seconds passed. Finally, he asked for Amedee again.

  The air grew warmer, but no answer came.

  "Are they gone?” Rachel asked.

  "I don't feel anything,” Martin said. “It could be all it took for Amedee to break free was for him to realize that Delphie had no control over him. He told her that she'd kept Alison from him for too long. That he wanted her, and Cyrille."

  Rachel's eyes widened and she bit her lip. “So much for my wonderful haunting story. The three of them were in love?"

  "Yes,” Dev said. “They were in love. And the power of fear kept Amedee away from the woman, and the man, that he loved. Hopefully we've broken that power tonight."

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  Chapter Eleven

  Quinn, Dev, Fletch, and Martin stood beside Alison's grave.

  "Is she here?” Quinn turned to Martin, who closed his eyes and then shook his head.

  "She's gone. I felt nothing at the house, and I feel nothing here. I can't tell you where they've gone; I only know that I can't feel them anymore."

  A wonderful feeling of contentment filled Quinn's heart. “They're together, then. It was so easy."

  "Says the woman who didn't have ghostly talons at her throat,” Martin said, anger in his voice.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

  "Never mind,” Martin responded. “I'm going to bed. I'll see you guys in the morning."

  He turned and stalked off and Dev laughed.

  "Don't worry, Quinn, he'll be right as rain in the morning."

  They turned and joined hands as they began to walk back to the house.

  "So, in the process of proving there were ghosts here, we drove them away,” Dev said. “I hope this doesn't hurt our business."

  "Won't,” Fletch answered. “Some people want the ghosts gone. Don't know if Rachel is one of those people, though."

  Quinn laughed. “I don't think so, but she'll find a way to use this as a marketing tool, I'll guarantee it."

  They walked in silence for a bit before Quinn cleared her throat.

  "So, we go back to New Orleans tomorrow. What happens then?"

  "Well,” Dev said. “There's more room in my closet for your clothes. Fletch is a clothes horse, as you know."

  "Am not,” Fletch said in a huff. “You got as many as I do."

  "Doubt it,” Dev replied.

  "So, you want me to move into your room?"

  "We do,” Dev said. “I thought we'd made that clear. We bought that huge bed and everything."

  They stopped on the porch of the house. “What happens when people ask about us?"

  "We tell them the truth,” Fletch said. “Unless you're afraid it will hurt your public image, chér."

  Quinn shook her head. “You know. I don't care if it does. I've decided to go for some interviews, see what's out there. I don't care what people think. I just want to be with you two."

  Her eyes sparkled with tears. Dev leaned down and claimed her lips, his own soft and sweet against hers. When Fletch took his place, his own lips were demanding yet tender.

  "So, it's the three of
us?"

  "Yes it is,” Dev answered. “And I think we need to go upstairs and make use of that wonderful bed."

  They stepped inside and stopped dead in their tracks. They could hear female laughter, soft and sensual coming from upstairs.

  Fletch took off at a run, with Dev close behind him. They flung open the door to Alison's room and stepped inside. Moans of pleasure filled the room and Quinn covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp. Alison, Amedee and a third man, whom she guessed was Cyrille, were on the bed, or more likely floating above the bed, lying in each other's arms.

  Alison laughed, and the moans deepened. Dev pushed Fletch and Quinn back toward the door.

  "Looks like that bed is occupied. I suggest we go next door."

  "Or back to the tree in the clearing for a little early morning romp,” Quinn said. “I bet I can beat you there."

  "What do’ the winner get,” Fletch asked.

  "To be on top,” Quinn replied, taking off for the stairs. She laughed as she heard Dev and Fletch's footsteps come down the stairs after her. She planned on beating them to the tree. And she planned on staying with her men as long as possible.

  Their nights would be filled with three, as would their days. And Quinn would be sure that nothing came between them, in life, or in death.

  The End

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