by Julie Wetzel
Darien pulled his arm from hers and wrapped her up against his side. “Is beautiful, no?” He looked out over the square. “I’ve been through here hundreds of times, but one never appreciates a place when they live there.” Pulling her along, he urged her farther down the road. “Where we’re going is just over there.”
Vicky looked back down Decatur Street. She felt a tug on the leash and looked to see Zak straining against the lead. He’d smelled something he wanted. Just past the trees on the right was a building with a green roof. She could just make out the many tables and familiar, green logo on the side of the building.
“Really?” Vicky bounced as she realized where Darien was taking her for breakfast. She sped up and spun around to face Darien without stopping. Darien smiled as she took up his hands and continued their walk backwards. “We’re going there?” She swung his hands excitedly.
“But, of course.” His thick, French accent made Vicky giggle. Twirling her back around to his side, Darien pulled her into the line of his body and kissed the curls at the side of her head lovingly.
Vicky let out a soft hum of contentment. “I really do love it when you speak with an accent.” Snuggling closer into him, she felt him stiffen slightly as they walked on. Peeking up, she saw surprise on his face. “You didn’t realize you were speaking with a French accent, did you?”
Darien chuckled a little and relaxed. “No, ma chérie.” He shook his head but didn’t lose the foreign inflection in his voice.
Vicky giggled again and leaned into his side.
Café Du Monde was much larger than Vicky had thought. She’d expected a place that served mainly donuts and coffee to be rather small, no matter how famous they were. The recognizable green-and-white striped awning only covered a small portion of the seating patio. Just outside the fenced-in area, a man sat, playing soft jazz on a saxophone, the white of his suit shone brightly against his dark skin.
Pulling out a bill from his pocket, Darien dropped it in the man’s case as they passed. He led Vicky through the archway and into the end of a long building that housed the restaurant. There was already quite a crowd. “Come; let us find a table before le petit horreur eats the place.”
Vicky looked down to find Zak trying to get to a chunk of beignet someone had dropped. She loosened his lead a little so he could reach it.
Darien escorted her under the awning to an empty table near one of the fences. “I’ll be right back,” he reassured her and headed into the main part of the building.
Vicky settled into the padded chair and studied the café. The open floor plan and high ceiling gave the building an airy quality, while the wooden ceiling warmed it. Fans hung overhead, ready to move around the air when the temperature climbed in the summer. The gentle murmur of the crowd soothed her as the delicate voice of the saxophone wafted in from the street. Even though it was busy, there was no hustle or bustle like the coffee shops back home. No one was rushed or hurried here. She was starting to understand why they called this place ‘The Big Easy’.
The speed in which Darien returned with a tray full of food surprised Vicky. She was sure he hadn’t been gone long enough to get the delicious-looking treats. Time didn’t seem to run the same way in this place, or it felt that way. She sat back so Darien could place a cup of coffee on a saucer in front of her. Someone had filled it so full that the coffee sloshed over the sides of the cup even though he tried to be careful with it.
After unloading several plates of beignets heaping with powdered sugar and a bottle of milk, Darien claimed his own overflowing cup and dropped the tray on the empty table nearby. Settling into the chair next to Vicky, he shifted the food around, dividing it out.
“Thank you,” Vicky said as she turned the very full cup around on the saucer. She leaned forwards and sipped some of the hot liquid. The chickaree coffee laced with milk was both very hot and slightly bitter. Picking up her spoon, she looked around for the sugar. Finding their container was empty, she scooped up some of the powdered sugar from the edge of her plate and added it to the coffee until it was sweet enough.
A whine from Zak drew Darien’s attention away from the food he was sorting. “I didn’t forget about you.”
Zak pawed at the vampire’s leg, trying to get into his lap and at the food.
“Keep your fur on.” Darien pulled one of the plates over and set it on the ground for Zak.
The little hellhound circled it before shoving his face into it greedily. Powdered sugar puffed out from where he snorted into the plate.
Darien laughed and took the saucer from under his coffee. He cracked open the bottle of milk and filled the plate before setting it down for Zak to lap up.
Vicky smiled at the two. “He’s so spoiled.”
“He’ll take what he wants, anyway,” Darien shrugged, “so why not give it to him?”
Vicky conceded his point before turning to her warm, sugar-covered bread. With all that powder covering the beignets, how was she supposed to eat them without getting making a mess? She watched Darien pick one up, tap it on his plate, and bend in to take a bite. Amazingly, he didn’t come away covered in the sugar. Vicky mimicked him. “Mmmm,” she moaned in pleasure. “These are so much better when they are hot.”
Darien nodded his head but didn’t answer around the beignet stuffed in his own mouth.
Vicky snickered at the eagerness in which Darien was consuming the pastry.
Catching her mirth, Darien looked up at her. “What?” he asked around his mouthful.
Vicky snickered even more as Darien finished chewing and swallowed.
“It’s the first time I’ve had these and not had to worry about it.”
The French accent was gone, and he sounded so much like a scorned child that Vicky had to laugh harder.
He gave her a hurt look.
Vicky wiped her eyes. “Sorry.” She reached out to touch his hand and soothe his bruised feelings. “It’s just, there are times you go from mysterious and foreboding to such a child, that it surprises me.” Reaching up, she brushed some powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. “You know I love you and would never laugh at your situation.” Her voice had lost most of its joy, turning serious due Darien’s strange predicament.
Darien caught her hand and pressed it to his cheek, enjoying her touch. “I know.” Pulling it around, he kissed the back before releasing it. “Finish your food,” he said, pointing to the barely touched plate in front of her. “We still have a long walk and not much time to get there.”
Vicky looked around for a clock but didn’t see one. They had left so early in the morning that it couldn’t be later than ten AM. “Where are we going?” she asked as she picked up her beignet.
“To visit an old friend of mine.” Dairen picked up his final beignet and dug in with the same enjoyment he showed earlier.
Vicky dusted away the last traces of powdered sugar from her hands and stood up. For just bread and sugar, the beignets were mighty filling.
Zak nosed around on the ground under the tables, hunting for scraps that had been overlooked. He had even begged a few bites from some of the nearby patrons.
“So, where are we going?” Vicky asked as she drained the last of her coffee. Several of the tables around them had filled up in the short time they were there, and Darien had been reluctant to talk about his plans for the day. It had also been hard to get words out of him around the pillowy doughnuts he kept stuffing in his mouth. She had never seen him this eager about food before.
“It’s on the other side of the Quarter,” he said as he stacked the dishes together on the table. “They close early on Saturday, so we need to get going.”
Vicky reclaimed Zak’s leash and stood up.
Darien reached out for Vicky’s satchel. “Let me take that.”
Surprised she had it, Vicky slipped off the bag and handed it over to Darien. She really shouldn’t have been surprised; this wasn’t the first time she had picked the bag up without thinking. After all, Darien
had bespelled the satchel to ensure it would not be lost or stolen.
Once the bag was settled on his shoulder, Darien led the way back out to Decatur Street. When they were free of the confines of the café, he took Vicky’s hand and led her through traffic to the other side of the street.
Fascinated by the sights, Vicky turned her head back and forth, trying to take it all in. The fence around Jackson Square was covered with artwork being hawked by starving artists. As Darien led her along, she glanced at each of the pictures. A little farther down, there was a woman with a table draped in cloth. A crystal ball sat on the corner of the table, while the woman folded large cards to the cloth-covered surface. From the way the woman was dressed, the word ‘gypsy’ popped into Vicky’s head. But it was obvious from the woman’s pale skin and blonde hair that she did not belong to this iconic group of people. Following Darien’s pull, Vicky rounded the corner to find a whole row of people selling things.
“Is there a bazaar today?” Vicky asked as she looked at a man completely painted silver standing on a box. He held perfectly still as people took his picture.
“No.” Darien looked around at the scene. “This is a normal Saturday. It’s actually pretty light, considering the weather.”
Vicky looked up at the brilliant blue, winter sky. The air was actually comfortable.
Darien’s eyes caught something, and he adjusted their course to intercept the hawker.
Seeing Darien’s intention, a man holding a basket of roses stopped and waited for him. “A flower for a lovely lady?” He held out a single, red rose.
“Please.” Darien took it. “I will also need six more wrapped together, if you please.” After paying the man, Darien turned and presented the single rose to Vicky. “For you, my love.”
Vicky blushed with pleasure as she accepted the flower. She kissed Darien’s cheek.
The man presented the six roses wrapped in a piece of green tissue paper. “Your roses.”
Darien thanked him and tucked the small bouquet into the crook of his arm. “Shall we?” He held his arm out for Vicky to take.
She nodded and slipped back to his side.
“Come on, Zak,” Darien called the little fay away from where the rose seller was petting him.
Zak barked and shook his Shih Tzu-like body before falling in to walk with Vicky.
Darien led them across the open area in front of the church at one end of the square.
Vicky looked up to the three towering spires. “I’ve seen pictures of this church so many times, but I have no idea what it’s called.”
“Cathedral-Basilica of Saint Louis, King of France,” Darien said, looking up at the impressive, white building. “Or, St. Louis Cathedral. It holds the prestige of being the oldest continually operated cathedral in the United States.”
Vicky gawked at the building as they passed.
“I remember when they put the clock tower on it.” He was quiet for a moment. “But, that was before they made it bigger.” Darien led her down the side of the church to a small alleyway.
Vicky suddenly felt so meek compared to him. “You must remember a lot about this city.” She clutched the rose to her chest as she thought about it.
Darien let out a soft chuckle as he looked around. “So much has changed since I lived here.” They passed under some trees and stepped onto a brick street. Turning left, they walked down the middle of the road. Black metal markers had been raised at the intersections to keep cars from turning down it.
“How so?” Vicky asked as she studied the tightly packed buildings they passed. These stores were filled with knickknacks and artwork.
“Oh, the layout and buildings are all the same, but the flavor isn’t.” Darien turned right at the next corner. “At one point in time, this place was a bustling port. You could see and get all manner of things here. There were so many different people flowing through here. And each brought something with them.
“When the Haitians introduced Vodou, they stirred the pool of power that had been collecting. At that time, the magic in this area was tangible. It wasn’t uncommon to see loa possession in the middle of the street. Nowadays, most of the city’s energy comes in through the tourists.” Darien paused to let out a sigh of regret. “The land still draws in a large quantity of energy from the people, but drunken debauchery doesn’t provide a very stable pool to draw from.”
As Darien talked, Vicky thought about the energy pooling around her. Now that he had drawn her attention to it, it tingled across her skin from everything. It was like waking up to a fuzzy blanket wrapped around you—you could feel it, but you didn’t know how it got there. Vicky returned her attention to Darien’s musings.
“There is still a great deal of power here, but it’s not as alive as it once was.” He turned left down the next street. “Well. This is Bourbon Street.”
Pausing on the corner, Vicky glanced up and down the road. It looked to be just another long street. There were people milling about, and she could hear some music coming from a building down the block.
Darien turned right onto the street, and they continued on their way.
Zak sniffed at piles of garbage and spills along the sidewalk. It was surprisingly dirty.
“Hey man!” One man cried out as they got close to him. He might have been twenty, with skin the color of dark chocolate. “For five bucks, I’ll tell ya’ where you got your shoes.”
Vicky’s eyebrows raised in wonderment. She dropped her gaze to the sneakers Darien was wearing. How could this man tell where they had come from?
Darien smiled. “They’re on my feet,” he said and continued without pausing.
Surprise and disappointment flashed across the man’s face. He hadn’t expected Darien to know the answer to the question.
Zak yipped at him as they passed.
“What was that?” Vicky glanced back at the man returning to the wall he had been leaning on.
“Panhandlers,” Darien explained. “It’s a form of begging.” He watched as another young man approached another target. It looked like his ruse was going to work. “They pretend to provide a service while getting as much money out of people as possible.” Shaking his head, Darien escorted Vicky down the street. “At one point in time, you could at least get a good shoe polish out of someone like that.”
“Darien!” Vicky scolded, shocked he would say something like that. “Isn’t that kind of racist?”
Darien chuckled a little. “It might have been if I were referring to his skin tone.” After two blocks, Darien took another turn and left Bourbon Street behind. “Begging and offering meager services to passing people is a profession practiced by all races.”
Vicky looked around at the street. “You still might want to be careful how you say things.” They had left most of the crowds back on Bourbon Street. “Some people are really touchy about things like that. You do have an image to uphold.”
Darien let out a laugh. “Like these people would know who I am. Anyway, if they want a fight, I’m sure my lawyers can give them one.”
Vicky could hear the smugness in his voice. She just shook her head and thought back over the exchange. “How did you know the answer?”
Darien gave her a confused look.
“To the shoe thing.”
“Oh.” Enlightenment lit his face. “It’s a bit of slang and the way they talk down here,” he explained. “Sometimes ‘got’ can mean ‘to have’, but don’t worry about it. You only really run into that type of thing on Bourbon Street.”
Vicky nodded and turned her attention back to the street. “I honestly expected this place to be more crowded.” There were a few cars parked alongside the road, but there wasn’t a lot of activity going on.
“This place doesn’t pick up until after noon.” Darien peeked at his watch. “It’s only just after ten in the morning.”
“Really?” Vicky glanced up at him. “I expected it to be much later than that.”
“We did get an early start on
the day.” The street they were walking on came to a divided road that looked vaguely familiar. Darien stopped and waited for traffic to clear before hurrying them across to the median.
“Where are we going?” Vicky asked as she looked back across the road. She was sure this was the road that marked the northern edge of the Quarter.
“It’s just over there.” Darien nodded in the direction they were going. “About another block.” He hurried them across traffic again.
Vicky looked around for anything that might be their destination, but all she saw was a gas station and what looked to be a police station.
Darien ignored these and went to the next road. This time, he waited for the crosswalk light before leading her across.
A light-colored, stone wall stretched down the block to the left. Darien took them to a split in the wall, but the iron gate was shut and chained. Making a confused noise, he looked at the heavy padlock. “I know they close this place early on Saturday, but it should have been at one.” He pulled out his phone and consulted it. “We should still have a few more hours until they lock it up.” Rattling the chain, he looked around for an answer. The wall was too high to get over without someone noticing. “Let’s go around to the side.” Darien took Vicky’s hand again and headed off to the side entrance. This gate was also chained and locked.
“Rats,” Darien growled. “I didn’t come all the way down here to be stopped by a chain.” He pulled on it but lacked the strength to break it. An angry growl rumbled from his chest as he glowered at the lock.
Vicky pulled on his arm. “Maybe we can call the keepers.” From what she could see, they were standing outside a cemetery. Suddenly, the roses tucked in Darien’s arm seemed much more appropriate. A gurgle from Zak drew Vicky’s attention.
The little fay rubbed up against the gates, testing them. Before she could stop him, Zak dropped his Shih Tzu disguise and reached tentacles up to the chain.
