by Rose Pressey
“What are you wearing?” Jennifer inquired from the hallway.
Had I suddenly slipped back in time? Was I living with my mother again?
“Jeans, Ma.”
“Very funny.” Jennifer peeked through the cracked door. She scanned me from the tip of my freshly painted toes to my somewhat frizzy head. Sizing my outfit selection up and down.
“Why is it you seem to think I’m always on the cusp of being a fashion disaster? One of those makeover shows is gonna show up any day now, huh?”
“No, don’t be silly.”
“Have I ever given you reason to feel this way? Have I?”
“No. It’s just...” She fidgeted.
“It’s just what? You’re worried something I wear will screw things up with Jack? Let me tell you I have bigger problems than what to wear. When it doesn’t work out--and it won’t work out--it won’t be because of my outfits.”
“Well, you look cute, so that outfit will be fine.”
All righty. In one ear and out the other with her.
The sun would set soon, and the time to meet Jack quickly approached. The moon would pop up, almost completely full, only two days left until the wolf inside me emerged. Lily too. Would her behavior become even worse?
I made a mental checklist of items needed in my handbag for the evening: new razors, shaving cream, aftershave balm, and Moon-over-Miami lipstick, my favorite shade, purely a coincidence the title held the word moon, of course.
“Have fun. Be ready for some chick-chicka-boom,” Jennifer sang. Her hips swayed, and I prayed I’d never see that little jig again.
“All right, I’m gonna have to ask you to never utter that phrase again. Oh, and never do the dance, either,” I said with the most serious expression I could muster.
Jennifer tossed the pillow from my bed. I ducked and laughed.
“You’d better be wearing some of the new merchandise. None of those granny things,” she warned.
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.”
A rap came from the front door. My heart thumped as I opened it. Jack stood with a huge smile on his face. He looked great as usual--wearing jeans and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tanned, muscular forearms.
“You look better every time I see you,” Jack said with a wink.
“Thank you.”
Funny, I thought the same about him. Every time I saw him, I had to try to stop myself from picturing him without clothing. My imagination would often drift to scenes of us tangled between sheets. Reminded me of a dog in heat. No pun intended.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked.
Jack guided me to the stairs. “I’m ready. What about you? How do you feel about ghosts and other spooky creatures?”
If he only knew.
His spicy scent played with my mind yet again. I should have grabbed him right then and there and placed a fat, wet kiss on his lips.
“Um. I believe in them. What about you?” If he knew he was dating a spooky creature, what would he do? Probably run for his life. Or would he embrace the existence of another world?
“I’m not sure. I’m a bit of a skeptic,” he said, his voice warm and soothing. I wanted to melt into his arms. Hormones talking.
He held the door open, and I walked out onto the sidewalk.
Since the tour started so close to where we lived, walking was ideal. We fell into a nice pace and Jack’s fingers brushed against mine. He then gently clasped my hand. Somewhere in the distance, blues music played and the sound swirled in the air, circling us. The scent of jasmine wafted from nearby courtyards, adding to the southern ambiance. And for one brief moment, it made me forget who I really was and why love couldn’t be mine.
The night was sure to be both mysterious and romantic. The French Quarter holds a definite mystique, and I let that magic take hold of me. Nothing would get in my way of spending a glorious evening with Jack, and I’d think about the future tomorrow. Tonight, I wanted to enjoy Jack’s company. Nothing more. Certainly not the mattress stomp like Jennifer suggested. Or was that mattress romp? Whatever. I would erase all thoughts of making love from my sex-starved brain.
After a couple of minutes of walking, we made our way to the starting point for the tour, located in front of a quaint coffee shop. It was a picturesque place with small tables and wrought-iron chairs to match. No matter how long I lived there, I never tired of seeing the fabulous architecture through the narrow streets of the Big Easy.
“Wow, this building is amazing.” Jack pointed and we peered up at the old building beside us. Its intricate ironwork adorning the windows called our attention.
“We’ll pass a ton on the tour. All just as striking as that one,” I said.
Folks had already gathered, killing time until the start.
The small group consisted of people from all walks of life. An older couple stood nearby. The man held a map and the woman had a camera dangling from her neck.
“Where y’all from?” the man asked.
“Oh, we’re from here,” I said. “What about you?”
“Kentucky. We’re here on a second honeymoon,” the lady said. They glowed like newlyweds.
“How romantic.”
I prayed I’d look as good in thirty years as they did. If my mother’s wild story about sex leading to wrinkles were true, I’d be good to go. The couple snuggled up.
Another couple held hands, while waiting for the tour to begin. They whispered in each other’s ears, which made me a tad bit jealous of their obvious true love. A group of three teenagers, all girls, wide-eyed and ready for the spooky activities, paced along the front of the building. The girls all had the same long brown hair. For all I knew, they were sisters. One nibbled at her nails--the other two smacked gum. Our tour guide, a youngish guy probably in his early twenties, bounded toward us full of energy, and I wondered if I’d be able to keep up with his pace. His rumpled black hair and pale skin added to the mysterious image he apparently wanted to present. Very vampirish.
“Welcome to the Ghost Tour of New Orleans.” He waved his arms in dramatic emphasis. “We’ll be taking a walk back in time this evening. Exploring the history and sinister secrets of New Orleans. We’ll be visiting many sites around the French Quarter.” He’d obviously recited the words a few times before.
Our guide passed out flashlights as he continued the monologue.
Jack winked and squeezed my hand. “Are you scared yet?”
Um. Sure. I’d go along with the game. Maybe I’d get some extra snuggling out of it too. “I am. This is so scary. I hope a ghost doesn’t get us.” I shivered for emphasis.
The sun still gleamed down on us, but before the tour ended it would be dark. I wondered if any supernatural creatures really would make an appearance. I’d heard all the stories before, so I wasn’t completely paying attention to everything. Jack listened, but made comments and chitchatted along the way. The girls giggled. Out of fear, I guessed.
“Don’t be afraid...Vampires...” The guide continued to narrate the scary legends as we neared yet another romantically foreboding building. The girls let out a gasp and giggled more when he lurched at them to add a spook factor to their tour. Jack chuckled, and I took advantage of the situation and moved closer to him. He snuggled me into the crook of his arm a little tighter. Dusk settled around us with lavender streaks lining the sky. Our guide flicked on his flashlight and instructed us to do the same.
We made our way to the cemetery. I lost count of how many blocks we traveled. With Jack beside me, how could I pay attention to my location? Huge iron gates stretched open, welcoming us to the subdivision for the dead. We filed through and waited for our guide to start again. The group nestled so closely they looked as if they could have been from an episode of Scooby Doo.
Aboveground crypts filled the space around us, which to me seemed eerily beautiful. The guide began to recount stories of the deceased, and each one of us hung on to his every word. We weaved in and out of the gravestones, an
d I scanned the area for any sign of ghosts. We eased our way through, careful to avoid the jagged, torn-up pavement. The guide’s stories I’d heard many times, but never grew tired of them.
“Look around and you can see why New Orleans’s famous cemeteries are called Cities of the Dead. To this day, over ninety percent of New Orleans’s graves are aboveground, some in family crypts. And now we’re at the most famous tomb in the entire city--”
“Oh, I’ve heard of this. It’s Marie Laveau,” one of the teenage girls said.
He didn’t appear bothered by the interruption. “Yes. The Famous Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. Her tomb is located right here and it’s haunted.” He paused for reaction.
Their eyes widened, but no one said a word.
“Rumor has it the queen’s secret voodoo society is alive and active, in spite of her death. As you can see, loyal devotees regularly visit her tomb.”
He pointed at the shrine around her vault. Burnt-out candles sat in front of the crypt along with other voodoo paraphernalia and offerings.
After everyone studied the grave, we moved on again. About midway down the paved path, as I stood between a couple of ornate vaults, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow zip by. I didn’t mention the sighting to Jack. I’d wait for him to witness the ghosts on his own. A few seconds later, it happened again, and I knew I wasn’t imagining things. I’d seen ghosts before so I shrugged it off--no biggie. At least I assumed ghosts were responsible. Bloodsuckers could very well have been to blame. Vampires were known for their practical jokes.
More giggling ahead and the spooky stories continued. The girls would jump out of their skin if they actually saw a ghost. Jack and I moved along the passageway that meandered through the cemetery. We trailed behind the others just a few steps. After a brief pause in front of one of the many vaults, the rest of our group moved forward. I stayed back to tie my shoe. Jack stepped a few feet forward to keep an eye on which way the group headed.
As I knelt with shoestrings in hand, in one blurry moment, a large furry mitt wrapped around my mouth and the creature attached to that paw pulled me back, dragging me behind one of the massive graves. Screaming was not an option--his appendage muffled my efforts at making any sound. Until I could shift into my werewolf-self, the only defense I had was to kick. So I did. With all my strength, I kicked. He had an advantage over me, though, and thrashing got me nowhere.
As I struggled and made my best attempt to transform, the mangy mutt hauled me farther away. Across the graveyard we went, past the lonely homes of the deceased. Tombs stood as reminders of what once was. I was yanked around one of the crumpling stones.
Jack’s voice carried across the warm night air. He called my name, but I couldn’t answer. Which was just freakin’ great, because there was no way I would be able to explain my disappearance--if I survived.
As the beast carried me away from the group, his helper loped beside us in the darkness, nothing more than a shadow in the night. The faces of my assailants weren’t visible in this murky corner of the graveyard, but I felt the fuzz on my attacker’s paw. The back of my legs scraped against the concrete sidewalk. Thank goodness I wore jeans. It still burned, though.
My natural instincts took over, my eyes changed, the transformation took place and fur covered my body. Claws protruded from the tips of my fingers, the points of which were pink. Remnants from the manicure of my human nails. I continued struggling as my abductor pulled me farther away. Kicking and pushing, nothing worked. His hold felt like a vise squeezing as tightly as possible.
Where were they taking me? Would they kill me right in the graveyard? They laughed, mocking me. No doubt, they were proud of their feat. My claws gouged at my attacker’s paws. If only I could reach his head, I’d jab his eyes out.
I finally managed to move the paw from my mouth enough to speak. Luckily, werewolves’ vocal cords weren’t altered with the change since we kept some human features, enabling us to retain our speech. “Your breath smells like you ate a tuna and egg sandwich, then chased it with a tall glass of buttermilk. Ever heard of a toothbrush? Perhaps a doggie dental bone?”
The other one lumbered along beside us, but he slipped on a stray rock, distracting my captor, and I took that opportunity to break free from the stinky fiend. I shoved the beast until he was forced to release his grasp, then I lurched forward, falling. My body hit the ground with a thud, but I quickly righted myself. My claws held a death grip on my purse--no way could I lose it. Soon my transformation would be complete, so I draped the bag around my neck while I still could.
I turned to face my attackers. They shifted to the left. The moonlight filtered through the trees, giving me a full view of their repulsive faces. Both bared their long, razor-sharp, yellowish fangs, tilted their heads back and let out ferocious howls.
Jack’s voice echoed in the distance, urgency in his shouting--I had to hide from him. If he discovered us, he’d think more wild dogs were on the loose. Except for one teeny, tiny problem: one of the dogs would be wearing jeans and a silky white blouse. There had been no time to strip, and my clothes were ruined.
One of the beasts stepped closer, exposing his fangs in a mocking smile. He licked his lips as if to say I’d be tasty even without ketchup.
Jack’s voice neared--I ran out of time. Letting out a growl, I slashed my claws across the front of my attacker’s face before he thought twice about pouncing. He fell back. But how would I fight two? Without a lot of options, I took off in a lope to escape them.
Both rushed behind me, nipping at my feet. I didn’t know how long I could keep up the pace. The whole disgusting scenario should be a lesson to me: fit visits to the gym into my schedule more often. Oh, and don’t bother dating--it never works out.
“Get away from me, you dirty bastards.” I huffed with undisguised anger.
More howls escaped their lips. Then they snickered to one another as they loped along behind me. Apparently, they were having the time of their lives chasing me. I seriously doubted they were telling knock-knock jokes--no, they were definitely laughing at me.
Power surged through me as I made my way to the opposite side of the cemetery. About fifty feet away, a fence outlined the perimeter. If I reached it, I figured I could easily jump over and maybe lose them.
Crypts whizzed by in my peripheral vision. The wind whipped through my hair. The uneven ground along with my clothing made running difficult. My tail was stuck inside my jeans, making them even tighter. Jack’s frantic shouts became fainter as I ran.
I glanced over my shoulder to gauge how much distance I’d put between us. There was some but not enough, because their yellow glowing eyes loomed dangerously close. Picking up my speed, I darted to my left. Skirting around a tree, within seconds I made a huge leap and scaled the iron fence. I made little noise as I landed on the pavement with ease, a nifty trick I doubted they could accomplish.
“We’ll get you.” The voice echoed from some distance behind me.
A decision needed to be made: which way to turn? There was not enough time to mentally debate. Without giving it another thought, I made an immediate left. My abrupt turn and the fence, luckily, delayed the response time for my friendly canine escorts. Much needed seconds that gave me a chance to escape.
After hopping the fence, I knew I could outrun them. Not to mention they looked as if their gym memberships had been stamped invalid years ago. With my heart hammering in my chest, I ran as fast as I could down the uneven sidewalk. It was dark in the vicinity of the cemetery, and I didn’t want to bump into a dogcatcher, or one of the little old ladies who carries around mace and a big club and beats the hell out of any dog who remotely looks as if it might come near her. On the other hand, seeing a dog wearing ripped clothing would probably make them run the other way. Werewolves move so quickly, so far we’ve never been caught. Knock on wood.
The cemetery was on the outer edge of the French Quarter, so smaller crowds and fewer buildings. But at that moment, I
needed a building or two--I needed a safe hiding spot. Running was getting the best of me. A couple of groans and thuds sounded behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. The two stumbled to their feet after scaling the fence. I didn’t dare turn around again. It would only slow me down.
Up ahead, I spotted a church, big columns spread across the front. The air was still and not a single soul was in sight. A few more buildings appeared. I stayed close to them, trying to blend with the shadows. I figured I was safe enough, and the aroma from a nearby restaurant would block my scent.
The area surrounding the church loomed shadowy and I was thankful for the darkness. I hid behind one of the large columns. My panting grew louder, amplified by the silence. I prayed the crazy werewolves wouldn’t hear me. Sucking in a mouthful of air, I tried to slow the hammering of my heart against my ribs. They approached, their heavy breathing giving them away. They panted worse than I did. I heard the sound of their paws hitting the pavement as they sprinted past. Wow, they really were kind of dumb, I chuckled to myself. Dumbasses. They didn’t have a clue.
After a couple of minutes, I figured they were gone for good and poked my head out of the shadows. I glanced around, wanting to make sure they weren’t hiding right around the corner waiting to pounce, but the coast appeared to be clear. A couple in the distance entered an apartment building, but no one else was in sight. I inched away from the church columns, attempting to brush the accumulated dust and dirt from my pants. Not that it mattered--I looked like hell. With the pads of my feet striking the concrete at a steady pace, I ran back toward the cemetery. My thoughts raced just as quickly as my heart. What must Jack think? His date had disappeared into thin air. Chalk it up to another wacky adventure in the recent life of me.
