Under the Blood Moon

by Tracie Provost

  “Madame Grammont assures me that it was not a pack member that attacked my nephew,” Marc said, casually indicating me.

  Beau Roulet nodded once and said, “We should sit. Seems we got some stuff that needs talkin’ about.” Without ceremony he pulled out a chair and sat. The rest of us followed suit.

  “Perhaps introductions would be in order,” Marc said. “I believe you know Josh Bouchard, and this is Juliette de Grammont who has recently returned to New Orleans after a long absence.”

  “Josh, good to see you again. Glad to make your acquaintance, Ma’am. These are my sons, Justin and Michael,” Beau said, pointing to each young man in turn. Now that I could see them clearly, both boys had the look of their father. Justin appeared to be the older, perhaps 20, with longish brown hair, while Michael was probably about Chris’s age and had a neater appearance. “Ma’am, if you don’t mind me askin’, how are you sure we didn’t do it? You ain’t been here but a minute.”

  “You smell very different than the werewolf that attacked Monsieur Christopher. You are earthy, clean. He was not. He smelled of garbage and cement. City smells,” I said.

  “You got a good nose. That could be real helpful since it looks like we got a Stray on our hands,” the Alpha said.

  “You don’t have a visitor from a different pack in town, do you?” Josh asked.

  Beau shook his head. “No one’s presented themselves, and it ain’t Mardi Gras, which is the only time strangers don’t have to.”

  “I would like to offer vampire assistance in apprehending the Stray. I know that lupines generally avoid the city except when you have business, but if you would rather take care of the problem yourselves, I will not take offense.”

  Beau nodded. “I’ll give my people the word not to shift while in the city. Then you’ll know any wolf you shoot isn’t pack.”

  “That is a good idea,” Marc said. “We don’t want conflict over an honest mistake.”

  “Your nephew, how is he?” Beau asked cautiously.

  “Recovered, thank you.”

  The Alpha frowned, obviously confused. “I was led to believe that his wounds were life threatening.”

  Marc nodded. “They were. If not for the swift intervention of Josh and Madame Grammont, Christopher would certainly be dead right now.”

  “But you said he was recovered.”

  “Madame Grammont is a very gifted healer.”

  “She’d have to be,” Beau said, looking intently at me. I smiled.

  “Was he bitten?” Beau asked.

  Marc hesitated for a moment but that moment was all the answer the Alpha needed. “If you would like, I can take the boy and see him through his first change. We will fully accept him into the pack and I will treat him as my own son.”

  Marc blinked in surprise. “That is a very generous offer, and I do not turn it down to slight or offend you. I have already made arrangements for a ritual to banish the werewolf spirit.”

  “Mr. Gautier, Marc, that ritual is an urban legend. I’ve heard the stories. Back when Louisiana was still a colony, some Arcadian ran afoul of a werewolf and was bitten. Some witch or voodoo priestess managed to banish the werewolf spirit before it could fully take the guy over by using a ritual or some such. Sometimes she’s a white woman, sometimes a Quadroon, heck I’ve even heard it told she was as black as night. Even heard the sorceress variation. Always with some crazy elaborate ritual and epic spirit battle. She wins and he goes on to live a long, unhairy life. Then she vanishes. We tell our kids this story. Threaten if they aren’t good, the priestess will come and banish their spirits. She’s our version of the boogey man.”

  “Seems your reputation precedes you, Ma’am,” Josh drawled, quirking an eyebrow at me.

  Every eye in the room shifted to me. Beau’s intense stare returned to me. “You? You’re tellin’ me that this little thing is our boogey man? Our all-powerful priestess of legend? Her power barely registers,” the Alpha scoffed.

  Marc gave me a discreet nod and I dropped my shields, flooding the warehouse with my power. The hair on the back of Beau’s hands stood on end. I felt Josh shift uncomfortably in the seat next to me. I pulled some of the power back and then sent several tendrils toward the pack leader. I let the magic play with his long hair, mussing it slightly. Then as abruptly as I had dropped my shields, I raised them and the magic-laced power disappeared. Beau’s two sons blinked hard, obviously trying to process what had just happened. Josh and Marc exchanged a look that I could not interpret.

  Shaking himself like a dog, Beau said, “So the story is true?”

  “Parts of it. I am a voodoo priestess and I did perform a ritual that drew out a werewolf spirit before it had time to fully take control of a bitten man. There was a spirit battle, but there is no way to draw the spirit out of a born werewolf,” I explained.

  “No shit,” Beau said. “Well if it don’t work this time, send the boy to me. I’ll take care of him.” I just smiled again.

  Marc nodded. “I appreciate that. I will contact you if one of my people locates the Stray.”

  “I’ll do the same. Sooner this Stray is found, the better,” Beau said.

  Marc stood. Everyone around the table followed suit. Marc held out his hand and Beau shook it.

  “Thank you for meeting with us. Hopefully we can build on this and forge a better relationship between our two groups,” Marc said.

  “Thanks for reachin’ out and not assumin’ we were responsible. Wars have started over much less.”

  “I wanted to be fair and not let my emotions make my decisions.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  Marc nodded and we left.

  IT WAS EARLY WHEN we arrived back at Gautier House, not yet 1:30 a.m. Sophie, efficient as ever, met us in the back courtyard. As soon as we exited the vehicle she said, “Marc, Gabe has our sister on the phone.”

  “Has he told her?”

  “Not when I left the office, but she is worried about the fact you left three messages for her. Cecily was pressing him for more information.”

  Marc turned to Josh and me. “I would like to speak to you both about the meeting but I really need to tell my sister about Chris.”

  “I can wait,” Josh offered.

  Marc shook his head. “I don’t know how long this will take and don’t want to waste your entire night. Besides, I have imposed far too much on Madame Grammont’s time already this week.”

  “It is not an imposition, Monsieur,” I assured him.

  “No, it is. I’m fairly certain that you have spent more time in my company these last few days than with your sire.”

  Josh said something under his breath that I did not quite catch. I shrugged. “That is the way of things. Andre understands.”

  “If you’re sure you don’t need me to stick around, I guess I’ll head back to The Cowboy. Just call when you’ve got some time,” Josh said. “If you’d like, I can see Madame Grammont home.”

  Sophie spoke up and said, “That is very kind of you, but I promised Juliette that I would show her a few places around the city and I actually have some time right now.”

  Josh smiled and nodded. “Have a good night then.” After bowing slightly to Marc and touching the brim of his hat to Sophie and me, he turned and strolled out the open courtyard gate.

  “Give me a minute to let Gabe know I’m leaving and I’ll show you one of my favorite hunting areas,” Sophie said to me. Marc preceded us into the house and disappeared into his office. Gabe emerged a few moments later.

  Running his hand through his dark hair, Gabe said, “Cecily is on a tear.”

  “I can imagine,” Sophie said.

  “She’s threatening to get on the jet and fly in.”

  Sophie groaned. “That is the last thing we need. I just wanted to let you k
now that I’m taking Juliette out to show her some of the Quarter and then drop her home. I’ll be gone for about an hour.”

  Gabe nodded. “No problem. If anything happens, I’ll call your cell.”

  “OK.”

  WE WALKED SEVERAL blocks over to Bourbon Street. Hundreds of people filled the blocked-off street. I could not imagine what so many people were doing here at this hour of the night.

  “What is the occasion?” I asked as we pushed into the crowd.

  “There isn’t one. This is just a regular Thursday night here on Bourbon. Tourists flock here year round. For a quick and easy bite, this is the best place. The only drawback is that most of the people are drinking. If you don’t mind alcohol in your blood, you’re fine. Sometimes it is a bit more like blood in your alcohol, so be careful. If you want unadulterated vitae, we’ll need to hunt a few streets over. Even then, since it is New Orleans, you may still end up with someone with a high blood alcohol content,” Sophie explained in my ear. No one was paying much attention to us, but there was no reason to cause a panic by talking loudly about blood.

  “I am not exactly a teetotaler,” I said as I regarded the crowd like the predator I was.

  “As I mentioned before, there are relatively few places that are off limits for hunting; the Art Museum, the Commander’s Palace restaurant, Gautreau’s, and Brennan’s. Some events are off limits as well, but if it is Sanctuary, it will be noted on the invitation,” Sophie said.

  “Those places should be easy to avoid then,” I said.

  “See anything that appeals to you?” Sophie asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Have at it.”

  Enticing the well-built, dark-skinned man onto a side street and into an unlit courtyard was ridiculously easy. While he had been imbibing, he was in no way drunk, and his blood held just a hint of rum. He was delicious. I made sure not to take too much and then suggested a very pleasant but wholly false memory to him. Pushing my magical power into the words convinced him of its truth.

  I rejoined Sophie on Bourbon Street, satiated and happy. As we strolled through the humid evening, Sophie pointed out various places of interest, including the location of Josh’s bar, The Cowboy.

  “He has a back room in there that is also a prime feeding ground,” Sophie said.

  “Good to know.”

  Chapter 7

  JUST BEFORE WE arrived at my house, Sophie put her hand on my arm, slowing my steps. “You know you don’t have to stay with him if you don’t want to. Things are different now. Women have rights,” she said.

  I smiled sadly. “But unreleased progeny don’t.”

  “You are still unreleased?” Sophie asked, the horror evident in her voice.

  “Unfortunately,” I said.

  “But how?”

  “You will think me naive but Andre was not always the way he is now. When I first met him, he was a rake but he was kind to me. I think he loved me or at least he certainly pretended to. After he embraced me, there just never seemed to be a reason to go through the formal release ceremony. While we were not legally married, we did live together and I thought we would be together always.”

  “Oh,” was all she said.

  “I am sure it will be fine. This is just a rough patch as we get to know each other again,” I said, hoping it was the truth.

  Sophie pursed her lips and seemed about to say something further on the subject when she abruptly changed topics. “It does not look as if Andre is home. I do not feel his presence inside.”

  I sent a tendril of magic into the house and confirmed that it was empty. “No, my sire seems to be out.”

  “We can go back to Gautier House and wait, if you wish,” Sophie suggested.

  “Do not be silly. This is my house. I will be fine alone until Andre returns. I really need the time to study the ritual anyway,” I said.

  “Well, if you are sure,” Sophie said. “If you need anything, just call.”

  “I will be fine,” I said as I tapped the password into the keypad and unlocked the front door. “Thank you for everything.”

  “It was no problem. Have a good evening and don’t forget to lock up behind you. The city isn’t as safe as it once was,” Sophie said and walked back down the street.

  I was careful to lock the door behind me and set the alarm. I was truly grateful to find myself alone again. I was far more worried about the ritual than I let on. I had not performed ritual magic in centuries, and so much depended on the ceremony being correct. I did not even want to think about what failure might mean.

  I retreated again to the study with my grimoire to memorize the werewolf ritual and await Andre’s return. I ran my hand across the book’s leather cover, feeling the power emanating from it. This was not just a tome about magic—the grimoire itself was magic. It had passed through five generations of my family and been given to me by my paternal grandmother when I had traveled to France in 1780. Each owner had written her spells and incantations in it, adding to the volume of the book. My great-great-grandmother had inscribed the werewolf ritual after witnessing it in Breton. I had added my own notes about the ceremony after I had performed it in 1795.

  I was deep in study when Andre arrived home sometime later. I felt his presence and heard the alarm turn off but he did not come to the closed study door, nor did I interrupt my practice.

  I ran through the ritual half a dozen times before I became too weary to continue. I heard the Grandfather clock in the living room chime five o’clock. There was a little over an hour until sunrise would force me to seek my bed, but I thought I might retire early.

  It seemed that Andre had the same idea because the house was silent and mostly dark when I opened the study door. I walked quietly to my room and sought my place next to an already asleep Andre.

  I DID NOT RISE until well after sundown the next evening. I quickly showered and dressed, eager to return to the grimoire. Running through the ritual several times the previous night had bolstered my confidence a great deal. That was not to say that I was not still apprehensive about the ceremony, but this was the normal sort of worry that I had all the time.

  I found Andre sprawled in his favorite chair on the loggia reading the newspaper. He looked up and negligently gestured to the coffee pot on the table. “It is probably still fresh,” he said.

  I picked up the silver urn and sniffed. Moderately fresh. It would do. I poured myself a cup and sat on the uncomfortable low sofa. I needed to talk to him about getting some comfortable furniture. This was akin to torture.

  Andre carefully folded the paper and placed it next to the coffee urn. “You are wearing that this evening?” he asked, taking in my casual twill trousers and blue cotton blouse.

  I cocked an eyebrow. He was still lounging in his dressing gown. “Is there something wrong with this? Sophie assured me that it was quite appropriate for around-the-house wear,” I said.

  Andre sniffed. “I’d hoped to go out this evening. Perhaps show you around and introduce you to some people.”

  I was tempted. I desperately wanted to see everything that had changed in the past 200 years. More than that, I wanted to renew old acquaintances, but I forced myself to shake my head. “I would love to but there are only two days until the full moon and I need to prepare,” I said.

  Andre huffed. “You prepared all last night. How much more time can you need?”

  I bit my tongue and did not say what I was thinking. Andre had never been one for study or preparation and it showed in his magic. He loved to party and have fun. His duties as a voodoo priest or even as a mage were far down on his list of priorities. What did I ever see in him? “It is the Grandmaster’s nephew,” I said instead. “I dare not be underprepared. Plus I need to make a soul jar.”

  He grunted. “I knew you would say something li
ke that. Fine, stay home and study, but I am going out.”

  I could not decide if I was vexed or relieved. A bit of both, I decided. While I did not expect him to hold my hand through this, he was the one who had offered my magical services. The least he could do was not complain about it cutting into his social calendar. I drained the rest of my coffee and placed the cup back on the low table. “Well, have a fun evening. I will be in the study.”

  “Since you are staying in, there is blood in the refrigerator for you. Sophie sent it over earlier. She must think I’m not feeding you or something. Do you remember how to use the warmer?” Andre said.

  The warmer was among the numerous appliances Andre had shown me my first night back. I could not remember all that he’d told me but decided I could figure it out after he left. “Yes, thank you,” I lied. “I’m not hungry now but will get something later.”

  “Good studies,” he said and poured himself another cup of coffee.

  I retreated to the study and pushed all thoughts of Andre and his shallowness from my mind. The ritual was easier tonight, the complicated steps coming to mind quickly and in the proper order. Everything needed to be memorized because on the night of the actual ritual, there would be no time to consult the grimoire.

  I was midway through the creation of the soul when Andre knocked at the study door, breaking my concentration and ruining the spell. Probably to tell me he is leaving. I tamped down my irritation at the intrusion and bade him enter.

  “I am sorry to interrupt you but Sophie is on the phone. Would you be able to meet with the Grandmaster this evening? It seems rather urgent,” he said.

  “Of course. Whatever the Grandmaster needs, I will be available for,” I said, shutting the grimoire. “I should go change.”

  Consulting the phone, Andre said, “Sophie says not to bother. It is better if you aren’t in nice clothing.”

  I began to put away my magical implements and tidy my work space.