Blessed Curse

by Sandra R Neeley

  The dog whined a bit more and looked up at her expectantly. “You want out of there?” she asked, reaching for him to take him out of the chest. As soon as he was in her arms, he snuggled into her embrace and licked her chin.

  “Well, aren’t you a sweet little man?” Solange said to the dog, holding him close to her as she left the large outbuilding. She pulled the door closed behind her and walked around the house, intentionally avoiding it altogether. She didn’t want to see the blood and destruction that would still be evident there. She thought about making sure all the family had been removed from the home and buried, but decided against it. Crispin had told her he’d buried the family and she trusted that he did. Hugging the little dog to her, she just left it at that and made her way back down to the village with the dog in her arms.

  “I’ll find someone to take care of you before I leave tomorrow morning. You’ll be just fine,” she told him, petting him and snuggling him along the way.

  Chapter 12

  Alastair lay in the familiar dark, dank basement apartment in the long deserted building above him. At one time, it had been a proud home standing on the historical streets of the Garden District of New Orleans. Then an unwelcome visitor named Katrina had come to town, destroying this building along with many more like it. This one though was special to him. He walked along its moldy, rat infested hallways, until he got to the back of the apartment, where the kitchen had been. He followed the steps hidden in the pantry down to a second level basement, a place for nothing more than storage and looked around the room they’d led him to. He knew immediately, this was the right place. This had been his place. This was where he’d lived when he’d had Mouse with him. This was where he’d bred her, made sure that he’d be tied to the LaCelle line for all eternity. When he thought of the LaCelle line, his entire being was suffused with hatred and vehemence. He didn’t even remember why, just that he hated them all. Even his fucking Mouse. She was one of them, or so he thought. His face clearly reflected his confusion as he tried to remember if Mouse was one of the LaCelle witches or not. He tossed himself down on a very sour, very water damaged mattress and tried to bring her face to mind. He shifted miserably as the numerous cuts and slices scattered across his upper body pulled and snagged on the filthy clothing he still wore. Then he remembered the woman who’d put them there. She’d been Mouse, only stronger. But Mouse wasn’t strong.

  He lay there thinking of Mouse and the woman that had attacked him. The woman he’d been about to kill, until fucking Crispin had interrupted. Fucking Crispin. He was always just a step behind. He wasn’t sure why Crispin always hung around, or how Crispin even knew where he was, but the irritating male was never more than a moment away from him and it drove him crazy. He settled into the mattress he lay on, and looked around the room, thankful for whoever had nailed the plywood over all the windows, sealing the sun out. He thought of Mouse again. This was the very room that he’d kept her in, the room in which she’d become completely dependent on him. The room he’d bred her in. His hands grasped the disgusting sheets beneath him. He’d bred her right here in this bed. And this new stronger Mouse… this was the bed he was going to breed her in, too.

  He closed his eyes and turned over, allowing sleep to take him despite the stinging and throbbing of the cuts on his body. “Fucking bitch,” he mumbled as he fell into a deep sleep, with visions of a dark haired girl, smiling, waving to get his attention. When he waved back, she called him. “Daddy!” she shouted happily. He ran to her, swinging her up into his arms and tossing her in the air. He looked up to catch her, but as he caught her in his arms, her own arms came down, slashing him with the knife she held in her hands.

  ~~~

  Solange smiled down at the scruffy, little dog as she walked down the sidewalk that would lead her to the New Orleans offices of E.V.I.E. It was only her first day back in town, but she needed to speak to Gillian, update her on all that had happened and maybe see if she could guilt Gillian into taking Mr. Scruffikins for her. She was gone entirely too much, and sometimes without notice, to be able to take care of a dog.

  She pulled the glass door open, and the secretary looked up from her computer. “Hi, Solange!” she said happily.

  “Hello, Marilee. Is Gillian around?”

  “Sure is, go on in. You're always welcome.”

  Solange walked past Marilee’s desk with Mr. Scruffikins prancing along beside her like he weighed one hundred fifty pounds. She grinned down at him. He looked spiffy. He had a black and white leash, and his collar was a black bow tie looking affair complete with white accents. He was freshly shampooed and groomed and looking quite handsome if she did say so herself. She tapped on the office door before pushing it open and sticking her head in. “Gillian?”

  “Solange! Come in,” Gillian answered, standing up and walking around her desk to greet Solange. The two had actually become quite close. They were very dear friends.

  Solange walked in the office with Mr. Scruffikins beside her.

  “And who is this?” Gillian asked, smiling and kneeling down to pet the little dog.

  “This is Mr. Scruffikins. Scruff for short. He needed a home, and I couldn’t leave him behind. I tried, I even asked a few of the ladies in the little village, and a couple said they’d take him, but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t bear him looking at me so sadly as I started to walk away. So, here we are, and he’s in the market for a new mom.”

  Gillian petted the dog and allowed him to brace himself on her knee with his front paws to give her kisses, before deciding he’d had enough and moving back to Solange’s side of his own volition. “Looks like he has one,” Gillian said, watching Mr. Scruffikins look lovingly up at Solange.

  “I wish I could keep him. I just never know when I’m going to be here, or be called away. Since I have my new place and I’m living alone, I don’t see how I could possibly take care of him. It’s just not fair to board him all the time,” Solange explained.

  “Well, maybe if you could find someone to take him when you’re gone. Maybe take him back to your grandmama when you have to go; then, you could just pick him up when you get back,” Gillian offered.

  “I was hoping you could adopt him,” Solange said, coming clean.

  “Me? But I’m no good with dogs,” Gillian objected.

  “That’s not true. He liked you. He gave you kisses,” Solange said, smiling down at Mr. Scruffikins. “Didn’t you, sweet little man. Him’s a good boy, yes he is!” Solange said in her best baby talk, causing Mr. Scruffikins to dance in a little circle at her praise.

  Gillian laughed. “That little guy has already picked out his new mommy. He wants to live with you. You can have pets in your condo, can’t you?” Gillian asked.

  Solange smiled at her. “Yes, I can, and I love him, I do. But I don’t want to have to board him all the time. And I don’t have a yard, I’m eighteen stories up. There’s no place for him to play.”

  “You’re in the penthouse, Solange. You have a private pool on your private terrace and quite a bit of space to relax around it. You have a small area you use for a garden. Dig up the plants and put down a little sod for him. And walk him often, he’ll be fine.”

  “And when I’m called away suddenly?” Solange asked, looking down at the dog.

  “Something will come up,” Gillian said. “Now, how about you have a seat and tell me what happened in Italy. You didn’t come rushing in telling me you got him, nor did you call me from Italy asking for clean up, so, I’m clueless.”

  “I was close, so close, Gillian. I mean, seconds away from ending him. I had him believing he’d overpowered me. All that remained was to gut him and remove his heart…”

  “What stopped you?!” Gillian asked, on the edge of her seat on finding out how close Solange was to killing Alastair.

  “I was interrupted by someone thinking they were saving me, and he got away.”

  “Oh, my gosh! Did they get a good look at you? Can they identify you? If you feel
compromised, we can run interference if necessary,” Gillian offered.

  Solange thought about Crispin. She recalled every nuance of his face, his scent, the feel of him near her — she could even feel his lips on hers. She decided in that moment to take every precaution to be sure that E.V.I.E. would never learn of him.

  “Solange?” Gillian said.

  Solange looked up suddenly, meeting Gillian’s gaze. “Did they see you? Do you feel compromised? Can they identify you?”

  “No,” Solange answered, shaking her head, a false smile in place as she lied her ass off to her best friend and boss. “No, they can’t. I didn’t even stay after that. I took the girl to safety. Later I went back to look for the dog that I knew belonged to the family Alastair had killed. I didn’t want him to starve or get lost in the woods or something, and I was afraid Alastair might have been lying low somewhere nearby injured. But there was no one there but the dog, so I just took him and left.”

  “Excellent. Now, back up and tell me the whole story.”

  “I will, but have you heard about the girl I left at the convent? I gave them your contact information for expenses. Is she going to be okay?”

  “We don’t know, Solange. We had her transferred to another facility better equipped to care for her. She’s not functioning at all. Just lies in bed and stares at the walls all day. She doesn’t eat, so they have her on intravenous feedings. She doesn’t respond to any type of stimulus at all. We aren’t sure if she was bitten or if she was injured in the attack. Normally, we’d just keep an eye on her until we knew for sure, but with this girl, she can’t be released in her condition anyway.”

  “I’m so sorry for her. I wish I would have arrived just a little sooner, maybe I could have stopped…”

  “Don’t do that. Just don’t. No one knows what could and couldn’t be different if just the smallest thing had changed. You saved her. And if we can get her to respond, and we’re sure she hasn’t been turned, she still has a chance at life if she can get over the trauma. It’s so much more than she’d have if you hadn’t gotten there when you did,” Gillian said.

  “You’re right,” Solange answered softly.

  Mr. Scruffikins jumped up in her lap, giving her kisses until she smiled again.

  Gillian grinned watching the dog soothe his new mommy. “So, tell me what happened, and start at the beginning so I can log it all in our records.” She pressed record on her cell phone and sat back waiting for Solange to begin her story.

  An hour later, having filled in all the holes and details — almost — Solange stood to go. “Are you sure you don’t want to adopt Mr. Scruffikins? I mean, I’m practically begging here,” Solange said, smiling hopefully.

  “No, but I’ll make a deal with you. You keep him. He’s yours, and when you’re called away, even if it’s 2:00 A.M., you bring him to me and I’ll take care of him until you get back.”

  “Really?” Solange asked, perking up.

  “Really.”

  “Excellent!” Solange said, rushing back to Gillian to hug her. “Thank you, Gillian.”

  “You’re welcome,” Gillian answered, hugging Solange tightly.

  Solange pulled back and did a happy dance. “I’m so happy!”

  “I know,” Gillian said. “You'd have cried if I said I would take your dog.”

  “Probably, but I wouldn’t have told you,” Solange admitted. Solange began backing toward the door. “See you later?”

  “Yes. And I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything on your next mission.”

  “Great. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

  “Oh, and Solange?” Gillian called when Solange was almost to the front door.

  “Yes?” Solange called, looking over her shoulder as she stood in the open doorway of the New Orleans offices of E.V.I.E.

  “When you're ready to let me know all the parts you left out, give me a call, huh?” Gillian said, smiling at Solange before winking at her and closing her office door.

  Solange didn’t give any indication that she knew what Gillian was implying. She looked at Marilee, who looked back at her curiously. “Wonder what that was about?” Solange said. Then she looked down at Mr. Scruffikins. “Oh, well. How about a trip to the French Market? Let’s go see what we can find. Pick up some seafood, and maybe get you a new toy,” she said to the dog as they walked out of the office and headed down the sidewalk.

  Solange took a deep breath, not looking back or at any of the cameras she knew were tucked away into almost every angle surrounding E.V.I.E.’s offices. She didn’t want to give away that she was unnerved by the fact that Gillian knew she’d withheld information. She just couldn’t make herself give Crispin away. She couldn’t have Crispin. Her life, who she was and what she did, didn’t allow for him. But she could allow herself to have those few stolen moments in the church in Italy. They were precious to her, and not only did she not want to share them with anyone, she didn’t want E.V.I.E. to be aware that Crispin existed, if they weren’t already. She’d protect him with her silence as best as she could.

  ~~~

  Solange let herself into her penthouse apartment, disarmed the alarm and looked around. Nothing looked to be disturbed and her alarm system was still engaged. Her eyes traveled over the white furniture with the shiny, black ebony framework, white carpeting, the black and white coffee and end tables, the white walls, filled with black and white photos with sleek black frames. Yep, nothing disturbed. She walked over to the full wall of floor-to-ceiling sliding windows and looked out over her swimming pool. The surface of her private outdoor terrace was just as pristine white as the inside of her condo. She had white pool chairs set about for lounging in the sun, and had decorated the space with potted plants of all types and sizes. To the left of the pool was a ‘cabana’ which housed towels, extra pool floats and chairs, and her workout equipment. She had mats for practicing her martial arts, and several exercise machines. After a quick walk through the condo to be sure it was not compromised in her absence, she finally put Mr. Scruffikins down so he could run and play. She took his new toys and his new bed out of her shopping bags and placed them on the floor, where he could find them easily, then walked through her apartment methodically undressing and leaving a trail of clothing behind herself on the way to the master bath. Once there, she changed into her swimsuit and made her way back into the living area of the condo.

  Solange unlocked the sliding window wall panels and pressed the button for them to open. Then went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of sweet tea while the wall of windows opened to give her unfettered access to her pool and outside terrace. She smiled as she walked over to it and saw Mr. Scruffikins sitting at the threshold waiting for permission to go outside. “Go on, it’s okay,” she told him.

  Mr. Scruffikins yipped at her and wagging his tail behind him shot out onto the white surfaced terrace, sniffing and snuffling at each bit of greenery he discovered in her lush potted plants. Solange set her glass down on one of the side tables and walked over to the pool to dip a toe in to test the temperature. Smiling at finding the temperature warm, she raised her hands over her head and dove in.

  She surfaced laughing, trying not to choke when Mr. Scruffikins jumped in with her and happily dog paddled his way around barking at the floats bobbing about in the pool. As Mr. Scruffikins found the stairs and got out of the pool, shaking his coat free of the pool water, Solange floated onto her back, and smiled squintingly up at the sun. There was a reason she’d chosen this condo. It was all windows, all exposed to the sun, and high enough up no one could be watching her without her knowledge. Of course she had heavy drapes in place in case she ever wanted to use them, but she had yet to even bother with them. They were kept back with sleek black straps that held them in place at the very outside edges of the windows.

  She loved her space. It was hers — simple, clean, uncomplicated. No one here but her and no one to answer to but herself. She turned over and started swimming for the other end of the
pool. “I’ll race you, Mr. Scruffikins!” she shouted as the scruffy little dog ran along the side of the pool yipping at her joyously.

  Chapter 13

  Crispin walked the uneven, broken pavement of the busiest, dirtiest street he’d ever walked. Wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the fact that it was nighttime, he easily blended in with the throngs of tourists that wandered Bourbon Street. During the day the locals for the most part filled it, along with a few families taking advantage of the more family friendly atmosphere the daylight hours offered to the streets that usually hosted the seedier side of New Orleans’ night life.

  He winced as he passed a particularly loud barroom, the music blasting out into the street. He’d been concentrating on listening for anything that seemed out of place, and the already loud music seemed even louder because of it. He’d tracked Alastair to this city. The pull of the creator to the turned giving him a trail, albeit a weak trail, to follow. And it had brought him here. He had no doubt Alastair was in New Orleans. But this city was immense, so, he walked the streets, hoping to find a glimpse of him, or pick up on the feeling that he was near. Though it hadn’t happened yet, he was not discouraged. He knew sooner or later, one way or another, he’d find Alastair.

  A woman dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket, with her long brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, walked out of a bar a block ahead of him and his eyes zeroed in on her. She laughed, throwing her arms around the man she was with and Crispin snarled. He hurried his steps until he was almost on them. Then the woman turned in his direction, smiling and pointing to a sign that advertised the bar she wanted to go to next. His heart rate slowed to normal, his adrenalin dropped, and he chastised himself for being a fool. She wasn’t Solange. Just had hair similar to Solange’s, was dressed like her, and was about the same height. He shook his head in frustration. Even if it had been Solange, he had no right to become enraged if she chose to spend time with another male.