by Hudson, Tara
“But—”
Suddenly, from another corner of the room, a jangling crash interrupted Joshua’s objection, and all three of us whipped around toward the noise.
Almost immediately, the woman uttered a foreign oath and pulled a bristly knot of what looked like hair from the pocket of her dress. She rubbed it furiously as she crossed the room and then bent down to examine the remains of the glass jar that had dropped to the floor.
Joshua and I, however, were more focused on the person who’d done the dropping. She stood in front of the doorway leading farther into the recesses of the café, and she now stared back at us in what could only be described as shock.
Even in this dark room I could tell she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen up close. She looked about my age—if not a little younger—but she was much taller and curvier than me. Beneath a gorgeously wild Afro, her smooth coffee-and-cream skin perfectly offset her radiant blue eyes.
Eyes that were looking right into mine.
The girl let loose an incredibly vulgar string of words. Then her gaze darted to the old woman, who’d started to remove shards from the puddle of whatever the jar had held. The girl pressed her lips together, obviously debating something, before releasing them to blow out a low whistle.
“Sorry, Marie,” the girl mumbled. “I’ll clean that up after my break.”
The old woman ignored the apology and continued sifting through the soggy mess, muttering to herself in some foreign language. Apparently, this girl was her employee, and, apparently, this girl was clumsy.
“Sorry,” the girl repeated halfheartedly. Then, after giving her unresponsive boss a flippant shrug, she brushed past Joshua and me without acknowledgment.
Once the girl had drawn the curtain back by a few inches, however, she paused. In a soft hiss—so quiet I almost couldn’t hear it—she whispered, “Both of you: outside. Now.”
The words “both of you” echoed in my head even after she stormed out and let the curtain fall back into place behind her.
Afterward, the room was completely silent except for the wet sounds of Marie’s cleanup efforts. Joshua and I stayed rooted in place until—finally—we exchanged matching looks of confusion and misgiving.
He twitched his head toward the curtain. Follow? he mouthed.
Catching my bottom lip with my teeth, I peeked at Marie. She hadn’t stopped her frustrated muttering, nor had she looked up from the broken jar and its contents. Clearly, the mess meant we’d been forgotten. Which also meant she probably wouldn’t put a hex on us for bothering her.
I turned back to Joshua, placed my index finger to my lips, and flicked my eyes in Marie’s direction. Understanding my meaning, he nodded and pulled the curtain aside for me. As quietly as possible, we slipped out of the room and then hurried through the diner before anyone could stop us. Joshua opened the door with a minimal amount of chiming, and we practically flew out of it. We bolted down the crumbling steps, only jerking to a stop when we realized that the shop girl had actually waited for us outside as she’d promised.
She leaned against the gray brick of the building just out of sight of the café window. Because she had rushed outside without her coat, she now furiously rubbed her hands against her bare upper arms in an attempt to protect herself from the wind. Really, her entire outfit—a billowy, gunmetal dress over bare legs and thigh-high gray boots—looked less than winter friendly. I wasn’t surprised to hear her teeth chattering as we approached.
Despite her clear discomfort, the girl was all business. Joshua had barely introduced himself when she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“Don’t bother, Lover Boy,” she said. “I got all that info back at the Conjure. The walls aren’t that thick in there, you know.”
Joshua nodded, looking relieved that he wouldn’t have to repeat the same story. “Then you already know why I need help?” he asked. “And who I need it for?”
The girl jerked her head in my direction. “For Princess Paleness over there, right?”
“Excuse me?” I said, folding my arms defensively. “I don’t know if you’ve picked up on what I am, but I haven’t exactly had the opportunity to get a tan lately.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said with another dismissive wave. “And I’m sure there’s some fascinating story about how you got stuck in that dress, too. But I’m more interested in what brought you here today.”
Joshua began to speak, but she cut him off again with an impatient sigh.
“No offense, Lover Boy, but I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
I pulled back one corner of my lips. “The ‘horse’ being me?”
“Yeah, the horse being you. So tell me, Princess, what’s so wrong with you that you need Voodoo to fix it?”
“Nothing,” I said bluntly. “And incidentally, my name’s not Princess. It’s Amelia.”
A tiny smile skirted across her lips. “Hi, Amelia. I’m Gabrielle—I’ll be your Voodoo priestess for the evening.”
“You expect us to believe that you’re a Voodoo priestess?” I scoffed.
Gabrielle shrugged one shoulder. “You tell me, Amelia. Between me and Marie back there, which one of us can actually see you?”
I snorted softly. “That just makes you a Seer.”
“Yeah, it does. And I’ll bet you fifty bucks that you’ve met some powerful Seers, haven’t you?”
I pinched my lips shut; she had me there. In my experience, a knowledgeable Seer had the ability to affect the dead in some pretty intense ways.
I met Gabrielle’s eyes and saw a glimmer of victory in them. She nodded at me, almost imperceptibly, and then reset her mouth in that straight, businesslike line.
“Speaking of fifty bucks,” she said, turning back to Joshua, “that’s my fee for helping you tonight.”
“But we haven’t even told you what kind of help we’re asking for,” he pointed out.
Gabrielle shook her head, sending her delicate silver earrings jingling. “No need to. I bet it’s the standard fare: can’t touch stuff, can’t control your disappearances.”
Joshua and I shared a meaningful look. I hated to admit it, but this girl knew her ghosts.
“It’s … kind of more like that last one,” Joshua hedged, and I silently blessed him for not confessing other things that were just too personal, too private.
“Huh.” Gabrielle looked slightly surprised. “Well, whatever the problem, I think I can take care of it.”
“Really?”
However much discretion he’d just shown, Joshua’s exclamation definitely revealed too much now—I could see it in Gabrielle’s sharp blue eyes. Again, victory sparkled there like a flame.
“Really, Lover Boy.” She rubbed her hands together—in triumph or to warm them, I couldn’t tell. “So here’s how it’s going to go down: you guys meet me tonight, ten minutes before midnight, in the St. Louis Number One Cemetery. It’s the aboveground cemetery off Basin Street, near Iberville. It’s usually locked by three p.m., but I’ll find a way to get the front gate open. Once you’re inside, go toward the center until you find a tall concrete vault that’s been painted brickred. You can’t miss it—it’s right by the tombstone that looks like a dinner table. When you get there, we’ll start the ceremony.”
I placed a restraining hand on Joshua’s arm before he could agree for us again. Remembering something that Rebecca mentioned during the car ride yesterday, I frowned.
“Aren’t the cemeteries here supposed to be dangerous without a tour guide?” I asked. “Especially at night?”
Gabrielle barked out a laugh. “Well, you’re dead, so no worries there. And you,” she said, turning to Joshua and giving him a contemplative once-over. “Maybe you should carry a baseball bat or something.”
I balked, but Joshua just nodded decisively.
“Done,” he declared, and extended his hand for her to shake.
For the first time this morning, Gabrielle’s confidence seemed to falter.
After all that bravado, I had no idea why something as harmless as a handshake should have bothered her. But she stared warily at Joshua’s outstretched hand as if any physical contact with him would result in something terrible. Her firing maybe? I couldn’t read the reason in her face....
“No can do, Lover Boy,” she said in a weirdly choked voice. “Shaking hands is, uh … it’s a big no-no in Voodoo.”
Joshua dropped his arm to his side with an embarrassed grin. “Sorry. I don’t really know the rules yet.”
Once again Gabrielle shrugged—a gesture of studied indifference that I was beginning to recognize. “No biggie,” she said offhandedly. “But you’ve got to get out of here before Marie decides I’ve taken too much time for my smoke break.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I grasped Joshua’s hand—a move that Gabrielle watched closely, I noticed—and tugged at it.
“You heard the girl,” I murmured. “Let’s get out of here.”
But Joshua held firmly in place. As if he just couldn’t help but be doggedly polite, he flashed Gabrielle a grateful smile.
“I appreciate you helping us. Really.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Gabrielle ducked her head and made a little “shoo” motion with her hand. “I’ll see ya’ll tonight at the St. Louis. Now seriously, hit the road.”
This time I didn’t let Joshua express any more gratitude. I yanked his hand as hard as I could, feeling the pins and needles heat of our touch spread all the way up to my shoulder. Finally, Joshua got the hint. He gave me an apologetic grin and—without another word to Gabrielle—turned with me to hurry away from this café, this street, this neighborhood, as quickly as we could without running.
Chapter
SIXTEEN
Almost as soon as we rounded the corner of Ursulines, I dropped Joshua’s hand. When he made a soft, questioning noise, I trained my gaze severely to the right—away from his—and put at least a foot’s distance between us. We hadn’t said one word or looked at each other the entire walk home, and I didn’t intend to change that now.
Still not speaking, I followed him into the town house and waited while his mother told him that Annabel and company had left on a day trip to Lafayette (also leaving me without the option of chewing out Annabel). Upon hearing this news, Joshua looked hesitantly in my direction. I refused to meet his eyes, choosing instead to keep silent while he said hello to the rest of his family and then led me outside.
There, only a few sounds filled the courtyard: the scratch of live oak branches above us and the twin scrape of the two chairs he pulled out from one of the tables so that we could sit.
All the while, Joshua kept his mouth firmly shut. Once we’d both sat down, however, he trapped me with those arresting blue eyes … probably anticipating the effect they’d have on me. He clearly wanted to know what I thought about everything that had just happened—I could tell by how frantically his fingers worked the edge of his sleeve.
But I wasn’t ready to give him my reaction yet. Not until I had better control of my thoughts, which were currently screaming at me that, if Joshua was pursuing such a drastic measure, then he knew as well as I did that our relationship was set up for failure. Of course, another set of thoughts screamed back that I didn’t want it to be true. Not now, not ever.
As the minutes passed, the branches continued to clatter noisily above us, from either the errant gale that had found its way through the alleys or the poltergeist force of my emotions—I couldn’t be sure. Finally, after what probably felt like an eternity to Joshua, I met his gaze.
“So,” I said, keeping my voice tightly controlled. “That was my Christmas present?”
“That was going to be your Christmas present,” he explained cautiously. Then he leaned forward, scrutinizing me. “But you have a problem with it, don’t you? Even after finding out what I meant it for.”
Despite his effort to hold my gaze, I broke eye contact and stared down at my hands, which I’d absently begun to wring in my lap.
“Yes,” I said, and then shook my head. “No. I don’t know.”
With my eyes still cast downward, I sighed heavily and sank back into my chair. True to form, Joshua seized upon the opportunity that my ambivalence gave him. He leaned even closer and tucked his forefinger beneath my chin, lifting my head until I faced him again.
“I’m not going to push you into anything,” he said softly. “I’ve done that before, with some mixed results.”
I gave him a tense, close-lipped smile. “I can’t say I haven’t done it to you, too. O’Reilly’s barn burner comes to mind.”
Joshua chuckled quietly. Keeping his finger beneath my chin, he began to brush his thumb across my cheek. Where he touched, heat erupted in an arc. Like a blush, only better.
This time I didn’t pull my eyes from his. I stared at him until all I could see was midnight blue. Until all my warring thoughts quieted and left me with something that at least resembled peace.
Now calmer and more resolved, I gave him a stronger, broader smile—one that I didn’t necessarily feel, but certainly meant.
Joshua grinned back. “Does that smile mean you don’t hate me?”
I placed my hand over his, stopping his thumb but doubling the heat on my cheek. I didn’t speak. But an irresponsible part of me wished he’d read a reply in my eyes, one that revealed I could never hate him when I loved him this much.
After a prolonged silence I squeezed his hand and then released it. In a soft, almost unfamiliar voice, I said, “You won’t have your cousins to blame for staying out late tonight. So I guess you’d better start thinking of some excuse for why you need to go somewhere at midnight. Otherwise, you’re just going to have to sneak out.”
Joshua arched one eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Really.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“I hadn’t made my mind up against the idea,” I said. “It just kind of threw me for a loop, that’s all.”
“And … now?”
“Now I kind of want to see what happens. See if she can help me control the materializations and freaky dreams.”
Or even help me protect my loved ones without having to flee or join a troop of rogue ghosts, I thought. No harm in asking once we’re there.
The strained half smile tugged at my lips again, helping me to keep those thoughts from playing themselves out on my face.
“Just promise me one thing, okay?”
“Anything,” he said earnestly.
“If she’s lying, and she’s actually on the Ruth side of things … if she ends up trying to exorcise me—”
“We get the hell out of there,” he finished, and then gave me a surprisingly wolfish grin. “And stiff her the fifty bucks, of course.”
I laughed. “Of course.”
My one, weak laugh was all Joshua needed. Suddenly excited, he clutched both of my hands and gently pulled me forward until I balanced precariously on the edge of my chair. With my lips precariously close to his too.
“I really want her to help you tonight,” he whispered, serious again.
I sucked in a sharp breath, which brought with it the briefest scent of his cologne. When the scent evaporated, I nodded slightly, dizzily. I let Joshua hold me there—on the edge of my seat, and on the edge of something potentially momentous.
But I didn’t—and wouldn’t—tell him the truth: that I was knee-quaking, bone-shaking scared.
Not that I might see last night’s ghosts or demons spending the witching hour in what had to be one of the more haunted places in New Orleans. Not that Gabrielle—who struck me as someone with more than a few ulterior motives—might hurt me.
I was somewhat afraid of those very real threats, obviously. But they weren’t what filled my heart with an icy sort of dread; they weren’t what I struggled to hide from Joshua’s perceptive gaze.
Because, in the end, I was most afraid of what would happen if Gabrielle couldn’t do a damn thing for me.
&nbs
p; The sun set too quickly that night, disappearing over the slate roofs of the Quarter and pulling the streets back into the shadows. I sat alone upon the front steps of the town house, with my arms wrapped around my legs, watching the darkness descend.
Inside, I could hear the raucous sounds of the Mayhew clan crowded around the dinner table. Tomorrow, the entire group would travel to one of the many gourmet restaurants in the Quarter to celebrate Christmas Eve in style. But tonight they were supposed to dine together in their family home, filling every available inch of the first floor.
The only exceptions to this tradition were the young Seers, who still hadn’t returned from their trip to Lafayette. (I couldn’t remember my own parents’ curfew rules, but I imagined they were far less lax than those of the Mayhews.) Sitting outside, I absently wondered whether Joshua missed their company.
If I listened carefully to the clamor, I could distinguish his voice as he laughed and joked with his younger cousins. If I stood up, I’m sure I could peer through the front window and see him sitting closest to the glass so that he could keep a watchful eye on me.
Considering what we might face in a few hours, I probably should’ve taken a covert place beside him in that cramped dining room. Especially since he’d warned me that this first family dinner might run long into the night, giving us no time alone together before we had to leave for the cemetery.
But like some scared little rabbit, I’d fled the house only minutes after I’d caught my first glimpse of someone I’d half expected never to see again.
I’d seen Ruth Mayhew before anyone else in the family had, standing at the top of the main staircase. In the shadows, she looked like some aging heroine in an antebellum movie, tall and grand and patrician, with one hand on the banister and the other clutched to her shawl.
Very briefly, I’d thought about confronting her—asserting my presence in this house for whatever limited period of time I intended to occupy it.
When she’d taken a few, unsteady steps down the main staircase, however, I took my own steps toward the front door, practically flinging Joshua against it and begging for him to let me outside. Somehow, being outdoors felt safer than staying inside with her.
