The Protectors

by April Hollingworth

  “We’re going to my house. It’s near Lafayette Cemetery No. 1,” Jezebel answers. A smile spreads across her face as she takes in our reactions.

  “You live near the cemetery?” I finally ask in surprise. “You’ve always hated graveyards because they creeped you out!”

  Bursting out laughing, she nods her head in agreement. “I know, right? Yet it’s different here for some strange reason, not sure why. Anyway, I love my house. It’s small, so it’ll be a tight fit. You’re all welcome to squeeze in for the duration.”

  “I have some room too. Between Jezebel’s and my place, everyone will be at least able to sleep,” Cedrix informs us, in his rather gruff matter-of-fact manner.

  I can’t help staring at him in surprise at such a generous offer.

  “Thank you.” I can hear the genuine gratitude in Victor’s simple reply. Going by the nod of his head in acknowledgement, so can Cedrix.

  We turn left on Washington Avenue across from Lafayette Cemetery and turn into Coliseum Street, where a couple of houses down we pull in front of a beautiful two-story house with a cherry blossom tree out front. I gape in delight at the old iron balcony. Painted in white with pale pink around the door and window frames, the house is beautiful and delicate looking.

  “Wow, Jezebel, this is gorgeous,” T.T exclaims, surprise echoing in her voice and written on her face.

  “What were you expecting? A rundown house? A shack fallen down around my ears?”

  “No, no, don’t get me wrong, it’s just this place is…”

  “Feminine, delicate, and something you normally don’t allow to be shown where you’re concerned,” interrupts Vivian.

  “Huh, yeah, okay, I get where you’re coming from. Thing is, ever since moving to New Orleans, I’ve felt as if I’ve finally found ‘me.’ I’m able to be who I really am supposed to be,” Jezebel admits quietly.

  “I’m glad you finally found somewhere that sets you free.” Turning to my friend, I lean over the seat and place a hand on her shoulder. “And I have to admit, this place is gorgeous. I can understand why it calls to you so strongly.”

  On this note, we all exit the minivan. Turning once more to Jezebel, I ask the question foremost on my mind. “How many of us can stay here?”

  “Well, some of you will have to bunk together. I have room for eight of you to stay comfortably. Well, nine if Roísín stays in your room with you.” The last is said to Janna and Vincent, who readily agree.

  “I was thinking if Jasmine, Kheda, and Vivian all stay with Cedrix, you’ll have somewhere to run when you shift into your other forms during tonight’s full moon. Maybe you should also go with them too, Candi. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be near the cemetery though. I know how much you like them.”

  “I’d rather stay here. I really want to go exploring,” I admit.

  “You’ll have to go on a tour as it’s not open to the public otherwise, unless you sneak in at night.” The last part of this statement is muttered so no one can overhear it.

  In the end, Nancy, Selene, Felicity, T.T., Vincent, Janna, and Roísín, and Victor and I remove our bags from the minivan, while the others leave theirs inside it, before entering Jezebel’s home.

  I can’t help admiring the place. Decorated minimally, the original architecture is displayed to the best advantage. We’re shown our rooms and deposit our bags before heading back downstairs, toward the kitchen where everyone is grabbing something to drink.

  “How about we all go to my place, get rid of your bags—” Cedrix nods to the three who are staying at his place, before carrying on. “—and grab something to eat in the French Quarter?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Kheda readily agrees. The rest of us quickly chorus our agreement too. “So where do you live?”

  “The bayou,” Cedrix replies, leaving me feeling slightly confused. After all, isn’t the bayou a really big place with gators and stuff?

  Once more, we pile into the minivan. This time headed to a place that to me sounds both wild and kinda cool. Maybe I should have stayed there after all. Mind you, I can’t wait to do some late night exploring of Lafayette Cemetery.

  Chapter 4

  It takes forty-five minutes to get from Jezebel’s place to where Cedrix lives on Victory Road at the very edge of the bayou. Looking out the window, all I see is the wild beauty of untamed natural swamp land. His nearest neighbors are farther down the road, close enough if he needs them, yet far enough away to keep his privacy.

  His house is made from wood and stone. A double garage/boathouse takes up the ground floor. Stairs at the back lead upstairs to his front door. Once inside, I’m initially surprised how bright it is until I spy the large windows taking up most of the walls. Cedrix’s place is minimalist, comfortable, and masculine with some beautiful paintings of the bayou on the walls.

  Spotting a painting of an alligator coming out of the water with the trees behind bending as if a breeze is rustling through them, I’m truly impressed at how realistic it is. You can almost smell the water and feel the wind brushing by.

  “Wow, this is awesome,” I blurt out from where I’m standing directly in front of the painting.

  “Thank you. I must admit I’m pleased with how it came out.”

  “Say what?” exclaims Jezebel, while I just turn around to gape at him. “You’re the artist? Blimey, I’ve seen some of your paintings around town in a couple of cafés and have always admired them. I would never have guessed…”

  “That I was an artist? Most people don’t know; so why would you?”

  “I don’t know. I just feel like I should have known.” Shaking her head, she turns away to stare at the painting I was admiring a minute ago.

  I get the distinct feeling that her not guessing his artistic nature is troubling her, though for the life of me I can’t figure out why.

  “So how about I show you your rooms, and then we can go grab something to eat in town. Personally, I’m after a fully dressed po’boy.”

  “A what? Are you taking the mickey, or is there really something called a po’boy?” I demand in genuine curiosity. I do love trying new foods.

  Cedrix shakes his head in amusement. A smile curls his full lips as a chuckle rumbles from him, catching all females’ attention in the room. What is it about men chuckling that draws our attention so fast?

  “A po’boy is a traditional New Orleans sandwich, normally made with fried shrimp or roast beef. Fully dressed is with everything in it, though you can have it half dressed too.”

  “Mmm, yum, what’s fully dressed contain, though?” I can feel my eyes getting bigger just at the thought of fried shrimp, and my taste buds getting ready to water and explode in anticipation.

  “Fully dressed is lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions, and any dressing you want to go with it. I recommend aioli.”

  “Okay, I’m sold; I’m having a po’boy, minus the pickles though.” Scrunching up my nose and shaking my head I admit, “I don’t like pickles.” I get a horrified look from Cedrix as if I’ve somehow offended the delicious sounding po’boy. Honestly, I don’t think the sandwich will mind.

  Chapter 5

  An hour later, my nose is twitching and my mouth watering, as different scents assail my senses with unbelievably delicious aromas. I notice the others in my group seem to be anticipating our coming meal as much as I am, going by their grumbling stomachs and wide-eyed looks of appreciation and longing as different platters are delivered to the surrounding tables.

  Finally, our meals arrive, not that we’ve been waiting for ages, because we haven’t. It’s just the anticipation of trying the food getting to me. I’m beginning to have visions of leaping at a server and devouring everything they’re bringing to someone else.

  I slather my po’boy in hot sauce before picking it up and taking the first bite. Flavors erupt in my mouth bringing a groan of satisfaction from me. I could really get used to Southern cuisine. Twenty minutes later, I’m rubbing my stomach in satisfaction and to help ease
my meal down on its merry path.

  “So, what did you think?” Cedrix asks me while wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  “Delicious. I’m glad I had it. Now about beignets…?” A spluttering cough interrupts me. Turning to give Kheda a puzzled look and to make sure he’s okay, I find Jasmine rubbing his back as she pops the last bite of her sandwich in her mouth.

  Turning back to Cedrix, I continue, “Can we try them and gumbo at some stage—oh, and a voodoo cocktail too?”

  “Oh, thank God, I thought you wanted to eat them now!” wheezes Kheda, while a grinning Cedrix agrees to make sure we’ll try everything on my list at some point.

  I do notice that he too looks slightly relieved at finding out I didn’t mean right now.

  “How about going on a tour or something?” Victor inquires while smiling indulgently at me and stroking my leg in ever-increasing circles, starting from my knee and rising up my leg.

  I feel my stomach tighten and my eyelids flutter half closed. At this point, I slap my hand over his large one, clamping it to my thigh before it travels farther north. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his unrepentant expression and a look of promise in his eyes.

  Damn, it should be illegal for someone to be so darn sexy! Next thing I know, everyone is pushing their chairs back and standing. Feeling a little bewildered, it takes me a second to remember we decided to go on a tour. I look up into the amused eyes of my friends, and a slight blush heats my cheeks. Quickly standing, I stick my hand into my pocket to retrieve my money to pay for my lunch.

  Once we’re all paid up, we head outside and grab the tickets from the tour agent. While we’re waiting for the tour to start, we wander around, checking out the voodoo shops and the stalls open nearby. I must admit, New Orleans is enchanting, vibrant, and intriguing.

  As we’re passing a fortune teller, she pauses in her reading to call out for us to come to her soon. Glancing at her, I see the aura of power vibrate around her. I’m not sure why I’m surprised she’s the real deal. Maybe because most fortune tellers are fakes, maybe because she’s tolling her business on the street.

  Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter; this woman has power rippling off her in waves. Looking at her, I give a nod of my head to let her know I will be back. After all, any help she can give, even if it’s a warning, will be helpful. Hopefully.

  Chapter 6

  Forty-five minutes later, we’re standing in front of the tomb of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen, and our guide is doing a ritual and blessing over everyone in the group. I’m just hoping it’ll work.

  As we wander through the cemetery, I can’t help sensing the restless spirits. A couple of times, out of the corner of my eye, I see a presence flitting by. The feeling of power and unease is like a thick blanket covering the area around us. I’m not sure what is causing it and can’t wait to explore later, minus the tour guide and bystanders.

  ****

  The fear that had driven me to the airport, to escape Whitechapel, finally eases enough for me to figure out where to go. I need to speak to someone I can trust. Someone who will understand what plagues me. I’ve never felt doubt like this since my introduction to my duties as member of The Protectors. It was my father who had been sent to show me how to do the ritual.

  Thinking back to that time, I realize it’s understandable the same doubt presses on me once again. After all, it was her parents my father and I had been sent to eradicate. Now I find myself once more in a situation she is involved in. The only difference is The Protectors don’t know yet what she is. I find myself hoping somehow I can prevent her death, yet for me to do so…I need to speak to my sister. Decision made, I book the next flight to Paris.

  ****

  I have this strange feeling everything is spiraling out of control. It might have something to do with the big gator, lazily swimming by with a bird hitching a ride on its back. I’m also positive it’s watching us out of the corner of its eye, probably sizing us up as potential dinner for later.

  The bayou tour we’re on is both beautiful, calming, and a little nerve-racking all at the same time. A fact not helped by the thick mist beginning to coat the trees and slither over the water. When I spot the tour guide giving the boat driver a nervous look and making a sudden excuse to turn around, my nerves heighten just that bit more.

  I’m pleased to notice the others are looking about a little warily too. I know deep down it’s bad to feel pleased we’re all in the same boat, both literally and mentally, yet I am. I can’t help it. I don’t like being the only one feeling nervous.

  It doesn’t take us long to realize the mist is no ordinary occurrence. Magick coats it in dark tendrils, feeling its way over the bayou. A laugh of amusement with a hint of cruelty echoes around us. Like a flickering whip, it lashes forward before retreating.

  A snarl of aggravation curls my lips, and I ease out tendrils of my own power, hunting the source of the magick in the mist. I sense the others around me are prepared to attack the unknown given the opportunity. What was a peaceful trip has begun to turn into what feels like a supernatural pissing match. Not good.

  “Can you tell anything about the magick user?” Victor quietly growls into my ear, causing shivers of desire to ripple through me. Mentally, I chastise my hormones. After all, talk about bad timing!

  “No, well, except…”

  “Except what?”

  “It has a weird texture to it. It’s hard to explain. It’s almost as if it’s…” Shaking my head, I look to Felicity and T.T. to see if they can sense or explain what I’m getting from the magick. Receiving shrugs and uncertain looks, I try again to explain what it feels like.

  “It’s like a kid playing with chemicals, throwing different ones into a pot just to see what will happen. To me, that is what this magick feels like, a complete mess and experiment; just wrong.”

  I hear a whimper and glance toward the source. Our boat driver and tour guide look like they’re about to have a nervous breakdown, or at the very least throw us all overboard and flee for their lives.

  Once more, the laughter flows forward from somewhere in the mist. This time though it holds a note of anger within its tone.

  Quickly, I pulse out another wave of magick. This time I feel it surround a mass. In the distance, violet power crackles and hisses, as my magick connects with the other.

  A curse rends the silence, followed by a loud crack.

  Next thing I know, my magick tendrils are springing back to me. Whatever they’d held literally wrenched themselves free.

  A moment later, the repressive mist lifts, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. A frog croaks nearby, breaking the silence. I notice the tour guide giving me a weird look and wonder if he’s thinking of throwing us all overboard and getting the hell out of the bayou.

  Chapter 7

  I’d feel offended by how quickly we’re kicked off the boat, except I can’t blame the nervous man for wanting to get rid of us. Still, it’s not as if we’d caused the strange happenings. Talia is barely off the boat before the boatman and our guide dash past her, almost knocking her into the water, hurrying straight for a destination unknown. I’m guessing they’re heading to the nearest bar, probably to regale others about their strange encounter.

  “Is it ever quiet where you go?” Cedrix inquires, watching the two men scurry away.

  “Most of the time. You just picked the wrong time to meet us.” I’m proud of the straight face I manage to keep during my answer. It’s only when I see the shocked faces around me that my laughter bubbles up, and I finally crack up. “Rarely quiet, normally not so weird.” Seeing the expressions on some of the girls’ faces, I look at them in puzzlement. “Well, it isn’t normally this odd,” I grumble.

  “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” Vivian replies, shaking her head at me in exasperation, before turning to Cedrix. “I’m positive trouble follows her like a bad smell.”

  “Hey, that’s not fair. It could just as easily be following any of you!” I prot
est. It’s only once the words have flown out of my mouth, I wish I hadn’t bothered opening it in the first place. Everyone turns to stare at me before sounding like a cackling bunch of hyenas as they burst out laughing.

  “Nice, very nice. Just remember, when trouble happens, you’re all around at the time!” On that final note, I stalk off. It would have been a fabulous exit, if I knew where I was going.

  Sadly, I manage to walk off straight for a dead end. With a groan of annoyance, I’m about to head back, when I hear a man with a deep voice talking in the building beside me. His voice comes clearly through the slightly ajar window. Hearing talk of a voodoo prince, I opt to lean against the wall and listen in.

  “Apparently, he was asked to cause some group problems on the bayou. Only thing is, he didn’t know they were powerful. The backlash of breaking contact threw him off his feet.”

  “Are you serious? Is he okay? What do you know of the group?” gasps a high-pitched voice that sounds like nails down a blackboard, making me wince.

  “Not much, though two of them are meant to be locals. He’ll be okay. Just stunned, to be honest. Mind you, what was he thinking of, doing a magickal attack on people he knows nothing about?”

  “Foolish, foolish…Did they make it back, or did he harm them?”

  “Not sure. I’m guessing the only one who got hurt, though, is…”

  Hearing footsteps, I quickly hurry back down the alley. I’m gutted as I’m positive I was about to hear who the voodoo prince is and maybe even who asked him to try and harm us.

  Is it all of us that were the intended victims, or just one of us?

  I peek around the corner. Finding the area empty, I exit the alley. To be honest, I’m feeling confused. Who had I heard coming, and where did they go? Finding the correct exit, I hurry after the others and delight in the fact that I manage to scare them, when I come up behind them.