Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 02 - Dark Carnival

by Nancy K. Duplechain

  “What do you think is the next step?” asked Nadia.

  “That depends on Noah.” Miles looked at him. “Are you up for a little reconnaissance work?”

  Noah flashed a devilish smile. “Sure.”

  “You’re not telling him to go to the Grigori House by himself!” said Nadia with the first flash of anger I’d ever seen in her eyes.

  “No,” said Miles. “I’m asking him. Whether or not he goes is his choice.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Noah.

  “I’m with Nadia,” I said. “That sounds too dangerous.”

  “They won’t even know I’m there. I’ll go tonight when it’s dark. I don’t need light to see, and I can blend in with the shadows.”

  “I don’t like it,” said Nadia.

  “Then it’s agreed that you’ll go,” said Miles, ignoring Nadia’s protest. “As for you two, I’d like you to try out one more store in Metairie this afternoon after Leigh’s training. After that, stop by the Museum of Art. They have a mask exhibit. When you get there, ask for Charles. He’s the manager.”

  I did much better with the sick that came in to be healed. I was getting a little stronger and didn’t even need Miles’ help when I cured someone of the flu. It had happened so quickly, the heat coming from my core being and into my hands. Before I knew it, the woman facing me said she felt much better. Miles had smiled at me for the first time in a long time. I also cured a migraine headache, but that was all I could handle, as I started to feel drained. Miles took over the rest and, by the time we were done, the sun was far in the Western sky.

  Late that afternoon, Nadia and I left the convent in her car to once again search for the mask, this time at an antique store in nearby Metairie. It seemed hopeless to find the Masque de L’âme Noire at this point. Sure enough, we were out of luck there as well. That just left the New Orleans Museum of Art in City Park. Before we left Metairie, we stopped for an early dinner, as neither one of us had lunch that day.

  During dinner, Nadia’s phone rang. She took it out of her purse, checked the ID and then answered. “Hey,” she said. “No, didn’t find anything … We’re having dinner right now then we’re going to the museum. Yes, we can meet you there. Why? What’s up? … Oh okay, I suppose. It’s not that much trouble … Okay. See you soon. Bye.”

  She hung up and put her phone back in her purse. “That was Noah. Cee Cee changed the lock on her door today. Something about you being freaked out the other night?”

  “Oh, that,” I said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean for her to go through all that trouble.”

  “It’s okay,” she smiled. “Better safe than sorry. Believe me, Cee Cee doesn’t mind. Anyway, she won’t be there when you get back. She’s going to be up late with a client. She didn’t want to leave the key out anywhere, so she gave a copy to Miles to give to you. Noah was there, doing prep work or something for his mission tonight, so he said he’d do it since he was going to be near the park this evening. He’ll meet up with us there.”

  By the time we made it back into the city, it was well after dark and had begun to rain. We parked near the café where Noah told Nadia to meet him. He was under the covered seating area, at one of the tables with a view of a large columned pavilion in the park. Nadia opened her door first and popped open an umbrella. She started to come around to my side, but I waved her away, choosing to make a run for it since we were parked right in front of the café. We joined Noah at the table.

  “Coffee?” he offered, taking a sip from a paper cup and gesturing to the café doors behind him.

  “We don’t have long,” said Nadia, “the museum’s about to close.”

  “So’s the café.” Noah put down his coffee and unzipped one of the side pockets of his jacket and pulled out a small silver key and handed it to me. “Make sure to keep that in a safe place,” he said, as I put it in the smallest pocket of my jeans.

  We left Noah to finish his coffee and huddled under the umbrella, across the street and into the sculpture garden. It was a shame that, of all the times I had visited New Orleans, I had never been to the museum or the sculpture garden. We strode down a winding footpath, lined with beautiful shrubbery that wound around magnolias and pines with Spanish moss, and over a small bridge that crossed over a reflecting lagoon that was slowly swelling with rain. I made a mental note to come back and see it during the daytime.

  We passed magnificent and unusual works of art, including an upside down hanging man which Nadia informed me was actually a bell. I saw a muscular, nude male sculpture titled Heroic Man. Not far from him was an interesting work called Window and Ladder: Too Late for Help; it was, simply, a ladder leading up to a window in mid air.

  We made it to the other end of the garden and crossed a circular driveway to the museum, a large, white building with four tall ionic columns atop the wide steps that led to the entrance. Once inside the lobby, the first thing I noticed was a colossal woman suspended over the grand entrance of the museum. She was adorned with various creatures of the sea that seemed to be a part of her very being. It was made to look like she was rising from the waters, proud and defiant. A pamphlet near the entrance told me her name was Thalassa and that she was named for the Greek goddess of the sea.

  There were few visitors in the museum. The new Renoir exhibit, it seemed, was not enough allure for most people to huddle through the cold rain. Aside from Nadia and myself, there were maybe twelve other visitors and a group of four of them were leaving. The rest, we saw, were near the end of the exhibit, near the exit.

  Nadia closed her umbrella and leaned it against the wall near the entrance. The museum ticket taker, a man of about thirty, greeted us warmly.

  “Hello, are y’all here for the Renoir exhibit? Because we’re about to close for the night,” he said with an apologetic tone.

  Nadia approached the ticket counter with a heavenly smile. “We’re here to see Charles. My name is Nadia. I’m an associate of Miles Knighten. Charles is expecting us.”

  The young man—Terry, according to his name tag—perked up at the mention of Miles. “Oh, well I’ll be sure to tell him that you’re here. One moment, please.” He excused himself to a desk behind the counter. He picked up a phone receiver and pressed a couple of buttons. “Charles, Miss Nadia and her friend are here to see you,” he said into the receiver. “Okay. I’ll let them know.” He hung up and returned to the counter. “He’ll be right out.”

  “Thank you so much,” said Nadia.

  “Oh, you’re welcome. And, if you talk to Miles soon, please tell him thank you for his donation to the New Orleans Pride exhibit. It means so much to us!”

  “I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you, Terry.”

  Terry went back to closing up for the night.

  Soon, a tall, slender man with glasses and salt-and-pepper hair came out from the other side of the lobby and gave us a friendly greeting. We introduced ourselves. After a little small talk about Miles and the high regards Charles held for him, he led us through a white column-lined hallway to the antique mask exhibit in the special exhibition gallery on the first floor.

  “Please take your time,” he told us. “The museum is closing, but I’m usually here for about another hour. Terry will be here for about another thirty minutes. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to some paperwork.”

  “Of course. We understand. Thank you again,” said Nadia.

  Charles left us in a vast room with darkly colored walls and track lighting. Numerous antique masks hung from the walls and sectional dividers. Thirty-one masks, the most delicate and priceless, were locked in glass display cases spread throughout the gallery.

  Nadia sighed. “Why don’t you take that side of the room over there,” she said, “I’ll take this side.”

  Rows upon rows of colorful masks in every shape and variety—feathered, painted, jeweled—were displayed before me. They started at the top, near the ceiling, and finished at waist level. I carefully scanned the back wall, keeping my eyes out fo
r the full-faced black mask with gold accents. Not seeing it on this wall, I moved onto the next one.

  Nothing.

  Nadia had just finished her second wall. She moved onto the dividers on her end, while I did the same on mine. She sighed and then checked the displayed masks in the glass cases. Again, nothing.

  “Where could it be?” she whispered to herself.

  “Maybe one of the other museums in town …” I offered.

  She shook her head. “Just seems hopeless sometimes. Let’s go. We can call Miles when we get back to St. Geneviève’s. ”

  Nadia thanked Terry on the way out. He said he was sorry that we didn’t find what we were looking for. She asked if it was okay to cut through the sculpture garden to get back to the parking lot. He said that would be fine because security was still locking things up on the other side of the park.

  We huddled together under the umbrella, hurrying across the circular driveway, through the entrance into the sculpture garden and across the little bridge over the lagoon. The exit onto the street across from the parking lot looked to be about thirty yards away. The sculptures we passed now seemed like sinister silhouettes against the vague light from the sparse park lamps. I could swear my eyes were playing tricks on me because the sculptures seemed to move with the shadows that glided over them when the wind swayed the branches of the trees.

  The parking lot was about twenty yards away. I could see Nadia’s car, the only one left in the lot. She glanced over her shoulder and then back to the front. She began to walk a little faster. I started to turn back to glance in that direction, but she quickly grabbed my hand. “Don’t look. Just keep walking,” she whispered. By impulse, I started to look again. “Leigh, please.” I kept my eyes forward and sped up my walking as we neared the deserted parking lot.

  “What is it?” I whispered back. She didn’t answer me, but reached into her pocket and pulled out her car keys with a slightly shaking hand. And I heard something else just then—the sopping thud of footsteps in wet grass in the distance. I couldn’t help but look. Behind us, about twenty yards out, in the tangling shadows of the trees, was a long, billowy sculpture of a man. It wasn’t my imagination as I saw the sculpture take a step toward us. I had just enough time to see his silver eyes reflect the faint light of the moon when I felt Nadia jerk my arm to pull me along faster.

  “Who is that?” I asked, glancing back over my shoulder, unable to take my eyes away.

  “Never mind. Keep moving.” Nadia took her hand from mine and let me have the umbrella as she went to the driver’s side of the car. Still looking over my shoulder, I tripped over the raised cement bar marking the parking space. I fell face-forward onto the sidewalk, letting go of the umbrella and scraping the palms of my hands.

  “Ow! Damnit!” I said, trying to choke back the pain.

  “Leigh! Get up!” I picked up my head and saw Nadia, panicked, racing toward me. I flipped over and looked back at the shadowy man who was running in our direction. Before I could get up, I saw him leap into the air and black wings suddenly fan out from behind him. As his long, thin body passed under the light of a street lamp, I noticed his entire being looked as if it was made of black obsidian, just like some of the other sculptures, but with thick varicose veins pulsating underneath and the piercing silver eyes that stared down on us.

  His large, dark wings flayed out and downward. He was going to land on top of me, but Nadia kicked him in the head as he was coming down. He roared in pain, falling back onto the wet pavement. Nadia again tried to help me up. I scrambled to my feet, but he rebounded quickly. As soon as I was up, he knocked me down, snarling at me and laughing in my face. Nadia helped me push him off. I was able to get up, but he grabbed her and started dragging her by the wrists, flying low near the ground, headed for the shadows of the trees in the sculpture garden. She screamed and struggled, and I ran to them, across the narrow street, into the garden, sloshing through the sopping grass. As I caught up, I tackled the winged man. He let go of Nadia and went after me, pulling me by the hair.

  I screamed out in pain and Nadia jumped on his back and started scratching at his eyes. He let me go and instantly and reached around, pulled her off his back and wrapped his wings around her, trapping her against him so she couldn’t move. With his free hand, he picked up a nearby rock and smashed it against my head.

  A sharp pain.

  Darkness.

  Dizziness.

  Nadia’s screams fading away in the distance.

  My eyelids fluttered, trying to open. I was only conscious of cold, wet darkness and a hazy, yellow glow as my vision alternated between the back of my eyelids and the lamp posts in the garden. I gained a little control over my sight, but it was useless because rain fell into my eyes and stung them. My whole body shivered uncontrollably as the winter air stung my wet skin.

  She’s so far away. But her screams are louder. “Nadia!” Why doesn’t she answer me? “Nadia!” She’s coming. I can hear her footsteps. She’s running to me now. “Nadia!” She’s getting closer …

  I forced my eyes open again, blinking back the pain in my head, still dizzy. The footsteps stopped, and I heard the flapping of great wings as they neared me and—someone else is coming. I tried to lift my head, but it wouldn’t move. I could only stare up at the lamp and the oncoming rain and listen for the footsteps coming closer and faster, splashing through the wet earth.

  In the corner of my eye, I saw the man flying toward me. Before he could land on me, something—someone—knocked him out of the way and they fell on the other side of me and began to fight. I gave out a startled yelp and by sheer will, rolled over onto my stomach and tried to get to my knees. I couldn’t stand, so I kneeled in the drenched grass, bent over, holding my head.

  Still blinking heavily, I saw the winged man a few feet from me. He had Noah pinned to the ground and his obsidian wings flapped violently back and forth. Noah snarled, reached up and ripped off one of his wings, causing the man to roll over in pain. In half a second, Noah was on top of him. He grabbed the man’s head and, with a sharp twist, snapped his neck, letting the head drop back onto the soggy grass.

  Breathless, Noah got up. “Where’s Nadia?” he asked.

  I picked up my head, holding it with both hands, feeling a warm patch of blood on the right side. Before I could say anything, he sniffed the air and his eyes got very big. He sprinted toward the shadows of the trees near the lagoon. I shakily got to my knees and had just steadied myself when I heard Noah scream out in agony. With my right hand pressed against my wound, I hurried to him as best I could.

  When I reached the thicket of shadows, I had to give my eyes a second to adjust. When they did, I forgot about my wound and cupped both hands to my mouth in shock. Noah was on his knees, holding Nadia to him, gently rocking her lifeless body back and forth. Her white blouse was almost totally red from the blood seeping out from the gashes in her flesh.

  “My God,” I whispered, tears already starting in my eyes.

  “No!” cried Noah. He started to sob, but stopped and looked up at me, angry. “Fix her!” he ordered.

  “I …” I shook my head, unsure.

  “Heal her! Hurry!” He laid her down on the grass before me. “Come on! Hurry!”

  “I can’t. I don’t know—”

  “DO IT!” he screamed at me. I kneeled down, feeling dizzy again. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I looked down on her body and didn’t know where to begin; so many wounds and so much blood. It looked like the flesh was actually bitten off of her body in some places and, in others, it looked like it was torn off.

  I put two fingers on the side of her neck, feeling for the artery. There was barely a pulse left. Everything in me wanted to scream at him to take her to a hospital, but I knew she wouldn’t last that long. Noah held her hand in his and stroked her forehead and wiped rain water away from her face with his other hand.

  “Come on, Naddie. Come on, honey,” he whispered to her. “I love you Naddie. Don�
�t leave me, okay?” He stared at her with so much hope that a sick sorrow began to take over me, and I thought I might break down and sob at any second.

  I took another deep breath and put my hand over her heart. I closed my eyes and concentrated on healing her. I silently asked for help from any entity of Heaven that could hear me. I concentrated on seeing a blue flame on my hand, healing Nadia. I kept waiting for my hand to get warmer, but it didn’t. I tried and tried but nothing happened. Her pulse grew weaker. The tears seeped from under my eyelids because I knew she was leaving us.

  Less than a minute later she was gone. I opened my eyes, my cheeks now wetter from tears, and I whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Noah shook his head, not accepting the situation. “Keep trying.”

  “There’s nothing left.”

  “Keep trying!” He stared at me with anger and hatred.

  “She’s gone! I’m sorry. But there’s nothing I can do. I don’t want her to be gone, either, but she’s—”

  I stopped short because Noah started rocking back and forth, shaking, gritting his teeth. “NO!” he screamed out into the rain. “She can’t! She can’t! Nadia, come on, honey. Please. Please! You can’t leave yet. You can’t, baby.” He started to sob. That was when I realized the boy Nadia spoke of, the one who made her have doubts, the one whose heart she broke and the only one she ever loved, was Noah.

  I felt like an intruder at that moment. I had only known Nadia for a few days, and I was devastated over what just happened. I knew for Noah it was much, much worse. I got up and slowly, shakily, headed back to Nadia’s car, leaving Noah to grieve in peace.

  I stayed clear of the dead man and his detached wing on the grass and made it to the parking lot. The passenger door was still open, and Nadia’s keys were on the ground. I picked them up along with the umbrella, got in her car and shut the door. My body began to shiver uncontrollably from the freezing rain. I laid my head back against the seat and shut my eyes, hating myself for what happened. A good woman died tonight, and I couldn’t save her. I was useless and, because of it, a life was lost.