That was something Toni had not considered in her investigation, but when he mentioned it, all her senses suddenly came alive.
She had to be on to something.
Call it a gut feeling, but in the past when Toni was following a story, she could always tell by a deep dark sensation inside if she was following the right leads.
Well, that dark feeling was back.
“And are you familiar with the solstice?” she asked Manny, seeing the woman beside her perk up. Was it possible that the stranger was eavesdropping on them, and if so, why?
“I don’t know much about it except that we had a few people celebrating Litha last month. They came in here and drank to it. You know, real wiccan looking-types. As a matter of fact, they were here every night that the suicides took place.” He shook it off as a silly notion, as if he didn’t believe in that stuff. “But you know, it could be nothing at all. I mean there are still coincidences in the world.”
“Litha?” Toni had never heard of it, but she’d research it as soon as she got back to the hotel. “Do people celebrate it every year?”
“Yes, it’s one of those weird holidays where you have to be into their religion to know what it is. All I know is that it’s something celebrated in the month of June by witches. Other than that, I’m at a loss.” Manny remembered who he was talking to. This was the USA News for goodness sake, and he was carrying on a like a school girl. “Look, you’re a reporter. I’m sure you’re looking for something other than witches and goblins to explain what happened to those poor girls. I wish that I could give you more. Again, that other stuff is probably purely coincidental.”
“I’m sure,” Toni lied. Sliding off the barstool gracefully, she cut her eyes over at the woman to see if she was still eavesdropping, but the woman had her head turned toward the television. “This is great information. I appreciate your time.”
The bartender winked at her. “No problem at all, sweetie. You come back and see us whenever you like.”
“I just might,” Toni said, headed toward the door. Pausing abruptly, she looked over at the bartender one last time and hitched her bag up on her shoulder. “Hey Manny…”
“Yeah, doll,” he said, turning toward her.
“There are no coincidences in this lifetime. Just clues someone over-looked.”
Manny shrugged. “Well, if that’s the case, then my boyfriend’s Uber driver wasn’t just in the neighborhood for the last three Thursday nights that I’ve passed him coming home.”
Toni laughed. “Just remember what I said.”
She stepped out into the crowded street, flooded with noisy people after dusk and felt the humidity stick to her skin.
The sounds of music and laughter wrapped around her like a blanket, and for a moment she tried to recount Manny’s story. The suicides had to be quite a sight.
All these people?
All this ruckus?
Who would dare commit suicide here?
She glanced over at the hotel – now illuminated by large, antique oil lamps and strings of white bulbs, seeing the same balcony where the women had taken their lives and tried to picture the hysteria in her mind’s eye – hear the screams, see the people rushing to help.
She closed her eyes for a brief second and took in her environment, using it for the story she would soon write, but the more she concentrated the more powerful the vision was her. Feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, her eyes flashed open.
Coincidence? Toni felt quite the contrary.
Pulling out her notepad, she wrote down the word Litha before shoving it in her back pocket and heading with the large crowds down the street.
***
After interviewing several other businesses and hearing the same exact story each time, Toni knew that she had to be on to something big.
She had spoken with about ten bartenders and waitresses, who were all working on all or at least one of the nights that the suicides took place, and all of them had said the same thing – there was something very occult about the deaths, and they believed them all to be linked to the summer solstice called Litha.
A few of them corroborated Manny’s suggestion that the women bore significant resemblance to her, which was sort of spooky to use Manny’s words.
But no matter how odd, all the sordid details went into her notes for later.
“There was something weird in the air that night,” one bartender had said, casting a glance over his shoulder like he was afraid he was being watched.
“It was eerie out there,” another one had recalled before abruptly ending the interview.
“Witches, warlocks, leprechauns, all of that shit is real,” one man had shared with an accompanying nod.
By the time that Toni had finished, she was a bit unnerved. The story was coming together right under her nose; she could feel it. She just had to put the clues together.
However, in order to get the full picture, she had to speak with the families of the women to find out more about them. The reports only shared so much.
Normally, she would have started fresh on another day, but something inside willed her to continue her journey.
There would be no rest until this was done.
Pulling out her phone, she accessed her notes to find the addresses of each of the girl’s next of kin.
If it took all night, she’d go to each house and speak with each family to see if there were more coincidences about their deaths.
“Taxi!” she screamed, hailing down a white cab parked on the corner of Bourbon. Jumping inside, she closed the door and wiped a shaking hand over her frizzy hair. “Take me to this place,” she said, showing the driver the phone.
Chapter Five
“And her eyes shall be open to her gifts and her mind will expand as wide as the sea. For the blinded woman will become full with sight just as her ancestors were blinded for their transgression.”
The Prophecy
The New Bourbon Hotel Bar
11:00 p.m.
I t had been a long haul. By the time that Toni arrived back to the hotel, it was close to being a new day. She had roamed Bourbon Street for interviews for one part of the day, and for the other half, she had visited the families of the deceased.
Family interviews were always the hardest to do. Referred to as the death-knock among her peers, she always felt nauseated when she stood at the threshold of someone’s house for a pickup story.
This intrusive part of her job forced her to make loved ones dredge up old memories and hurt all over again. She would always show sympathy and respect, remember to be kind and patient, but at the end she had to get the story.
For those who had been willing to speak with her today, she had been extremely grateful, especially with such short notice. With southern charm and grace, they invited her into their warm, loving homes, showed her where the girls had once lived, showed pictures of how they had grown up – all while understanding the story would end up splashed over the pages of a national newspaper.
None of them had a clue as to why the women had committed suicide, and not one of them believed that the story the police had given was accurate.
Toni felt very much like the families in that regard. Someone was covering up the truth – covering up the tracks. It was either the cops or the hotel staff or both.
Now that she had spoken to the families and gotten a better idea of who the women had been, she had to make their individual narratives come alive by writing a piece that did the women justice, and demanded action on a local, if not national, level.
But first…a little detour.
Breezing by the cheerful doorman standing dutifully at the hotel front doors, she opted to go to the bar instead of going back up to her room.
It was, after all, Saturday night in most of the world, and weekends were never complete without a cocktail.
After the endless tears and painstaking recounts of the women’s lives cut short, she needed a damn drink, something other tha
n the New Bourbon Special that had put her on her ass the night before.
Contrary to popular opinion, being a reporter didn’t mean that she was a robot – emotionless and cold. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
Being a reporter was one of the most human jobs one could take. She felt for each of those people, felt their pain, their dismay, their confusion and their need for closure. And she wanted to give that to them. That was why she had chosen to be a reporter – to help people, to solve problems, to be a messenger, but it could never be done overnight.
Writing a real story of substance took time and passion; it took research and thoroughness, and most of all, it took writing from a 360-degree angle, allowing the readers to see the full picture created by little black letters against a backdrop.
That creativity was addictive, but it was also draining, which was why she was headed back to the bar responsible for her blackout the night before.
Loyally, Jules was waiting behind the bar to serve her. He looked like one of those beautiful, mysterious cover models from the love stories she had hidden away and read when she was a pre-teen.
Dressed casually, in a pair of low-rider dark jeans and a black T-shirt, Jules leaned against the bar casting out a glare across the room with bedroom eyes. There was something about him that was irresistible. His allure made her want to talk to him for hours, but in terms of being sexually attracted, there was absolutely nothing. That was all reserved for his big brother.
In his normal easy-going fashion, Jules was carrying on a conversation with a couple staying at the hotel, when he eyed her and nodded. The glimmer in his eye and a smile that crossed his lips, let her know that he was happy that she had come to visit him again.
“I’ll be right down, mon cheri,” he called out to her as another bartender moved passed him to help some of the other patrons who were farther down the bar.
“Please, take your time,” Toni mouthed with a shaky yawn. There was no rush on her account. All she wanted to do was relax.
Besides, the bar was hopping tonight – a dramatic difference from the night before.
A packed house of eclectic hotel guests and tourists had flooded the luxurious historic hotel and were enjoying their evening and the ambience of the busy it-spot.
Waitresses were running in every direction, holding trays of cocktails wearing black corsets and short skirts. The bus boys were wiping down tables quickly to make way for the next round of guests. The patrons were talking and taking selfies, and the general vibe of the place was electric.
The house band was playing neo-soul music tonight – some guy with a ponytail was belting out Kem tunes - and the ambience was set with candles, dim lighting and the distinct smell of Bourbon Street rushing in through its many open windows.
To keep from monopolizing his precious time, Toni decided not to bother Jules with a lot of talk, just a request for something strong and normal to drink, like top-shelf vodka.
Sitting down at the end of the bar in the dark, where Jericho had sat the night before, Toni placed her hand-written notes in front of her and slouched down on the bar stool, feeling absolutely gutted.
Hot and sticky, she pulled at her white tank top and blew down the front of her shirt in between her heavy breasts, wishing at that moment for a fan to cool down her burning body.
She felt out of place looking around at all the well-dressed patrons, who gave stark contrast to her own cotton sarong skirt and wedge heels, hoping that Jericho didn’t come galivanting through to see her in a less-than-slay state.
After a few minutes, Jules made his way over and greeted her.
“Hello, my lady,” he said chipperly.
God, this guy acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, Toni thought to herself.
“Hey,” she said, less enthusiastic than she meant to be. “How are you?” She looked up at him and noticed his golden eyes were sparkling in the dark like a wolf stalking his prey.
Normally, she would have commented on his oddness, but at this point in the evening, she wouldn’t have cared if his eyes shot fire out of the irises as long as after, he brought her a drink.
“I’m great. How are you?” he asked, seeing the stress wash over the woman’s delicate features. He knew what that look meant; pulling a shot glass from under the bar, he set it in front of her. Gripping the top of the shot glass, he raised a brow at her. “You look like you need one of these, pretty lady.”
“Is it that obvious?” she asked, wiping under her eyes to make sure her liner hadn’t started to run.
“Oh yeah. It’s that obvious. What’s your favorite poison? Let’s get you mellow.”
Toni drew in a long breath and looked behind the bar at the bottles on display. Her eyes lit up at the choices.
“Kettle One would be nice,” she said, propping up an elbow.
“Kettle One it is,” he said, reaching behind him.
His long, sculpted arms extended, exposing elaborate tattoos that danced down his bicep as he grabbed the bottle by the neck. “No charge, of course, per the management.” Placing the bottle on the bar, he gave her another wink as he inhaled her natural fragrance – a mix of soap, sweat and spicy perfume.
“You like what you do?” Toni asked, watching him fix the drink with extra care.
He looked up from his duties and smiled at her. “I do.” He cranked the cork back into the bottle after he had poured her a double shot and glared at her. “Do you?”
Black lashes swept down toward her high cheeks. It was a reasonable question that deserved an equally reasonable answer. “Most days…not today, so much.” She held back a sigh that was mingled with the need to let go of a good cry. “Hearing about young women cut down in the prime of their lives isn’t exactly fulfilling, you know?” She tried to push the image of mothers bent over in despair crying on their sofas out of her mind, but it was nearly impossible.
“It never is,” Jules sympathized. “But think about it this way...if there were not people like you digging to get the story right, their stories would be much sadder, because no one would outside of those involved would ever know about them. You’re doing a good work.”
She was glad that he appreciated her, but it didn’t help the mood tonight. She picked up the shot and toasted him. “And if it weren’t for people like you, I wouldn’t be able to drown my sorrows in spirits and focus on getting my job done. Salute.” Downing the shot, she felt the burn course through her body.
Damn, that felt good. She shivered as it ran through her, reveled in its power. Sometimes a girl just needed to relinquish her will to someone or something. Tonight, it would be something.
“Wow, you sound like Jericho, right now,” he said, putting up his hands and stepping away from the bar. “He always says the same thing when he’s had a hell of a day.”
The reporter in her couldn’t help but inquire, especially since he had brought the man up. “Where is your brother, anyway?” she asked, thinking for the first time since she left the hotel about that hot little erotic dream she had about Jules’ sexy sibling.
Jericho’s lips flashed in her mind, although she didn’t know why. Kissing him had been the thought lingering behind every other thought today. It was there on default every time she let her mind wander.
She had worked hard to keep the naughty dream about him pushed to the back of her mind but being back here in this place made it hard to run from her hidden desires.
She wanted him…more than she had ever desired any man before. It was frightening to admit such a thing, especially since they had just met. But it didn’t change the facts.
For some reason, when she woke up this morning, she could taste him on her lips, smell him in her clothes, and she wanted nothing more than to have more of him.
JERICHO…his name lingered on her tongue and nothing would quench her thirst but the kiss that she almost tasted when she focused hard enough.
Clenching her thighs together, she tried to ignore the heat gathering at her sen
sitive center, praying that her face had not given her away.
Jules shrugged his wide shoulders and ran his tongue over his gums, trying to ignore the strong pheromones she gave off at the mention of his brother’s name. Things were getting hot in here.
He had warned Jericho about Toni St. John, lectured him about who she could be to him, but his warnings had fallen on deaf ears. Now, he was here with this woman, unable to tell her that he was an empath.
He could feel what she was feeling, every single emotion, including the pain and sorrow from the interviews and the raw sexual emotion toward his brother.
Trying to fight the sexual heat coming from her, Jules played it cool. “Oh, he’s around here somewhere nitpicking the hell out of some poor employee. The guy is a real perfectionist. If there is a problem, he’ll find it…and fix it.”
“I figured as much.” She wouldn’t admit it, but she liked that about Jericho. Striving for perfection meant that he put his all into his job, just like she did. It was commendable. But what else did he put his all into?
Jules poured her another double shot without another word, aiming to get her blind-running drunk.
“So, what’s your brother’s deal, anyway? Is he married?” Toni asked, willing to expose a little bit of herself in order to gain a little information about Jericho in return.
Jules grinned sheepishly as he felt a wave of sexual thoughts from her. FREAK. “Jericho…married?” That was laughable. “No, he’s very single.”
“So, he’s a playboy?” Toni quipped, reading between the lines. There were enough playboys back in New York City. Recruiting for the cause, even if Jericho was brutally handsome, was not in the cards. It was very much like bringing sand to the beach.
“No. My brother doesn’t believe in playing with a woman’s heart. He shoots right from the hip. Tells a woman what he wants and want he’s willing to give in return. In my opinion, he just hasn’t found the right woman to settle down with yet. And trust me, he knows the difference between settling and settling down.”
Toni could identify there. She was in her thirties with no kids, no husband and because of her crazy work schedule, no prospects. And despite all the many offers, she was not about to take just any man out there because she had a full plate professionally.
Warlocks: The Creole Coven (The Laveau Coven) Page 5
