She put her arm around my shoulder and hugged me to her side. “You don’t have to go through with this.”
I sighed. “No. I do. I gave my word. I’m just really afraid of not being able to help them if they need it.”
“Almost forgot!” Cee Cee reached over to her rhinestone Elvis purse, rummaged through it for a few seconds and then pulled out something that she cupped in her hand. “I stopped by St. Geneviève’s gift shop today.” She gently lifted my hand and placed the object in it. It was a silver token with the image of Joan of Arc with a fiery halo on it. I flipped it over. A prayer was etched onto the other side of the coin:
St. Joan of Arc, grant me courage to defeat my fears, and give me strength to fight for what I believe in.
I smiled at the little token that was made for religious gift stores around the country. I had seen plenty of Saint coins in my life and never thought much of them. Now, I understood why so many took comfort in them. “Thank you,” I whispered to Cee Cee.
“Miles say you gettin’ stronger every day. He have faith in you. I do, too.”
“Thanks.” My mind trailed off to Noah and our weird interaction in Miles’ kitchen. And then I thought of everything that happened tonight. “He hates me. And I don’t blame him.”
“Miles?”
“Noah.”
Cee Cee shook her head. “You couldn’t have saved Nadia. He know that, too.” I looked up at her and arched an eyebrow.
“A few years ago, Nadia was working on a case—not Les Foncés, but one of her cases for the church—and she was checking on a little boy who’s step-daddy was abusing him. The boy had nasty bruises on him and it looked like his arm was broken. Nadia tried to leave with the boy. That was her mistake ‘cause she should’ve called for the police. The step-daddy got his gun and shot her in the stomach and then took off with the boy.
“The sisters got worried when she didn’t come back and called Miles. He sent Noah to the man’s house and he found Nadia barely alive. He took her to Miles’, but she died on the way there.”
“But if she died—”
“Ruby was there when Noah arrived. She told him that she could keep Nadia’s soul from leaving, but Noah would have to hurry. She told him that he’d have to take the life of the man who took Nadia’s life. He had to come back with his blood.
“Noah went back to the man’s house and used his ability to track him down. Followed him all the way to Metairie, where he was hiding out at his sister’s house. Noah barged in, and the man tried to shoot him, but Noah was too fast. He dragged the man outside and killed him with his bare hands. He gathered some of his blood and went back to Miles’.
“Ruby instructed Noah to cut himself to get his own blood—that how he got that scar on his arm—and then mix it with the killer’s blood. Then he had to use the mixed blood and make three crosses on Nadia—one on her forehead, one on her lips and one on her heart—and repeat a dark prayer nine times to bring her back. I don’t know how Ruby knew to do that ‘cause that not real Voodoo. Must be that dark magic she always dabblin’ with.
“But anyway, Nadia’s soul came back to her body, and Miles was able to heal her wound. Noah did what he did out of love, but he shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not? He saved her life, and she—”
“He didn’t save her life. She was already on her way to God, but he brought her back. By doing that, it make him a dark paladin—a line walker.”
“Line walker?”
“Remember me and Father Ben told you about Walter Savoy and how he was a paladin before he went to the dark side?”
I nodded.
“Well, you can be a dark paladin and still fight for good, but you more tempted by the dark side, and you don’t go directly to God when you die. You kind of stay in a limbo, always on the front line of the battle. Your abilities are stronger when you a dark paladin, but your soul won’t ever really know rest in this life or the next. That why Ruby and Noah and Miles can seem a little moody at times. And that why so many dark paladins turn to Les Foncés, ‘cause they don’t see the use in fighting for good when they won’t get rewarded in the hereafter. But that’s not entirely true. Even if I was a dark paladin, I’d rather go to Heaven than wherever Les Foncés go! Even if it only a suburb of Heaven!” She laughed loudly at this.
“I had asked Maw Maw Clo why she didn’t heal her friend Miss Ya when she was dying. She said that God was calling Miss Ya, and it wouldn’t be right to keep her from Him. She knew that she would become a dark paladin if she saved her?”
Cee Cee nodded.
“And killing that man—was that why Noah was in prison?”
“Yes. But Miles saw to it that he didn’t do much time, not as much as he could have done.”
I felt horribly guilty for thinking badly of Noah. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—have done what he did, but I understood it. And I started to feel a little angry with Lucas for leaving out some major facts about Noah’s incarceration. I was sure he knew that the man Noah killed was a low-life child abuser, but he made it seem like Noah was a cold-hearted killer.
“There something else you should know about Noah. Now I know it’s not any of my business to be talking about him, but I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about him, ‘cause he a good boy.
“See, he not only kept Nadia from God, but he also played God by taking a life that wasn’t his to take.”
“I don’t understand. That guy killed Nadia. That’s what paladins are supposed to do, destroy the Dark Ones.”
Cee Cee shook her head. “That man was just a man. He did horrible things, but it was not for Noah to take his life. There was no trial, didn’t even give him a chance to beg God for forgiveness. Noah played God and then kept Nadia from God. Keeping Nadia here automatically make him a dark paladin. Taking a life when we’re sworn to protect lives should have turned him to Les Foncés.”
“Then why is he still on the good side?”
“’Cause he special. Half paladin.” She took a deep breath, and I could tell she was debating whether or not to continue. “And half Nephyl.” She noticed my stunned reaction. “A Nephyl have a human mother and a angel father.”
“Miles told me what they are. Seriously? He’s half angel? Half Grigori?”
“Only half. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. That’s for him to tell you if he want to, but I thought it might help you to understand him a little better. Long time ago, his mama was raped by a Watcher angel. She didn’t know she was a paladin at the time, and the Watcher didn’t know, either. She kept the baby and named him Noah.
“Not long after he turned fourteen, he started to grow wings. His momma couldn’t keep what happened to her a secret anymore. She told him what happened and how he was created. He hated that Watcher for what he did to his mother. He didn’t want any part of him. One night, he cut his wings off. Almost bled to death. She brought him to me to help him. She was afraid to go to the hospital because they’d ask too many questions. I sewed him up best I could and then brought him to Miles to take care of any infection. That’s how he and Noah first met.
“That year and the next, Noah was a ball of rage. He was on a self-destructive path, hanging with the wrong people, gettin’ into all kind of trouble. Then when he was sixteen, that’s when he met Nadia. She turned him around real good. Set him straight. He would’ve done anything for her. It broke his heart when she decided to join the convent, but he stayed on the good path and has ever since. That why he not Les Foncés.
“Not long after Nadia met him and turned him around, she started to get her power. She saved his soul, and that brought her to the light of the paladin. But now, his soul is damned. When he die, he not gonna find anything on the Other Side but pain and sorrow.”
I had no idea how to respond to what I just heard. Cee Cee was right in that I now saw Noah differently. After supper, I took a shower, said goodnight to Cee Cee and went to bed, but wasn’t sleepy. I stretched my legs out on the bed, leaned b
ack against the headboard and stared at the ceiling, feeling my guilty conscience weigh me down like a wet blanket.
After a couple of minutes my phone buzzed with an incoming text from Carrie, asking me if I was still up. I hesitated before texting her back, not sure if I wanted to talk to her at all, afraid that I would take things out on her. In truth, I was still hurt about her date with Lucas, but best friends are hard to come by. I texted her back, letting her know that I was awake. A moment later, my phone rang.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” said Carrie, sounding like she was walking on eggshells. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Nah. I was just lying down, thinking. What’s up?” I tried to sound cheerful, but she could read through it.
“You okay? You sound a little down.”
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I lied. “You okay?”
She paused for a moment and then took a deep breath. “Not really.”
“What’s up?”
“I feel really bad about going out with Lucas.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize how much of a connection the two of you had, but when I was out with him, I noticed it big time.”
“What do you mean? Did he, like, talk about me the whole time or something?”
“Nope. He didn’t say one word about you, and changed the subject when I’d bring up your name. He avoided the subject of Leigh Benoit like the plague.”
I rolled my eyes. “Uh, Care, that’s not really a deep connection when a guy avoids talking about you.”
“That’s exactly what it is. If he didn’t like you so much, he wouldn’t care if we talked about you or not.”
“God, I feel like I’m back in high school with all this drama. Reality is way harder than this crap.”
“Well, I just wanted you to know that he has it bad for you, and I feel like the worst friend ever for going out with him.”
“Don’t feel like that.”
“You have to be pissed at me.”
“I’m not. I’m really okay with it. I’ve had other things to occupy my mind lately.” That wasn’t a lie, exactly. I was starting to feel bad about being angry with Carrie in the first place because it was clear that I wasn’t ready for a relationship with Lucas, not in that way.
“I still hate myself.”
An idea suddenly occurred to me and I grinned. “I know what’ll make you feel better.”
14
Carrie Comes to NOLA
“This is it,” I said, as I saw the address on the outside of the brick building. I pulled into the little parking lot on the side where a giant sign with red lettering read, Style by Angelique. As soon as we entered the shop, I knew this place wasn’t going to be bargain rack gowns. A large chandelier hung overhead, casting a soft glow down upon the brothel-red carpet that went throughout the store. I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone told me those were Swarovski crystals on the light fixture. A full accessory counter lined the side of the store where the cash register was. We stood at the entrance and, even from there, I could tell the jewels adorning the accessories were real. There were a few racks in the store, and the men’s suits and the ball gowns were tethered to the hangers by cords with anti-shoplifting tags. Some of the gowns and suits, though, were displayed on headless mannequins in locked glass cases with track lights overhead. As far as ritzy goes, this place could compete with the shops on Rodeo Drive.
“I don’t think this place is in your budget,” whispered Carrie.
“Miles told me to come here, and he gave me his credit card to use.”
“What kind of card is it?”
“Visa Black,” I said, and smiled at how big her eyes got. “Yeah, I felt the same way when I saw it.”
“Can I hold it? Oh, please, can I hold it?!” she giddily whispered.
I laughed at her. “It’s just a piece of plastic. Quit drooling.”
A petit forty-something woman with short, fashionable black hair with silver streaks glided over to us. She took in our appearance—we were both in jeans—and gave us a snooty look. “Can I help you, ladies?” she asked, trying to sound just polite enough.
“I need a ball gown and a mask,” I said.
“Have you tried the mall?” she asked, and smiled politely. Carrie turned toward me, narrowing her brown eyes, and gave me a look like she wanted to punch out Miss Snooty.
“My friend suggested that I come here,” I smiled.
“And who’s your friend?”
“Miles Knighten.”
One of Miss Snooty’s eyebrows twitched and she sucked in her cheeks. She forced a smile and said, “Ah. Well, you should have said so. Miles is a dear friend.” I couldn’t help but laugh to myself when she said that, because I knew she meant that Miles’ money was a dear friend to her. “Now, what size are you, dear?”
“Seven.”
She quickly looked me up and down. “I think we can fit that,” she said, and started walking toward the back of the store. “Follow me, please.”
Carrie looked at me with those big brown eyes again. “Oh, my God!” she whispered. “Like seven’s fat?”
“C’mon,” I whispered back. We followed Miss Snooty to the back where there were more ball gowns to choose from. There was also an entire wall full of masks encased in locked glass, again with track lighting.
“I’m Angelique, by the way,” said Miss Snooty, pulling out a tape measure from an antique end table near a full-length mirror. “How is he these days?”
“Beg your pardon?” I said, pulling my eyes away from the collection of bejeweled masks.
“Miles, darling. How is Miles?”
“Oh. He’s fine. Um, I’m not sure what kind of gown I want exactly. I haven’t thought about it much.”
“Ah. Well, I’m sure we can find something. Lift up your arms, please.” I lifted them up and, as Angelique measured my bust and then my waist and hips, I rolled my eyes at Carrie, who did her best to stifle a giggle. “Uh-huh,” she said, sounding sure of herself. “You’re slightly larger than a seven, but we sell corsets, also. As for the dresses, we have several styles you will find appealing, I’m sure.” She waved her hand toward the front of the store. “We only sell designer gowns here. In the front we have ready-to-wear designers like Vera Wang, Versace, Armani, Chanel and the likes. But Miles always goes for the best, so I’m sure you’ll want to as well.”
“Oh, it really doesn’t matter to me. I’m fine with—”
“I don’t want Miles to think I didn’t treat you right. Wait right here.” She reached into her blouse and pulled out a key that hung around her neck. She went to the front door, turned around the sign so that it read CLOSED and then locked the door. She returned to us. “Come.”
We followed her into the next room where she flicked a switch. The track lighting overhead came to life, illuminating a locked display case of headless mannequins wearing what I was sure were haute couture designs. Carrie and I shared a look of awe.
“With your light skin and dark red hair, I think a darker gown would work best.” She strolled casually down the length of the display. “Perhaps a hunter green, or a deep red, or plum. Burgundy would be lovely. None of these are your size, but we can make alterations, which we don’t like to do because, well, it’s tampering with a work of art. But we’re only doing this because of Miles.”
“Who is this Miles guy, exactly?” whispered Carrie to me.
“—ball?” said Angelique.
“I’m sorry?” I said, not hearing her when Carrie was in my ear.
She looked agitated. “When is the ball, darling?”
“Oh. Saturday night.”
“We can have it ready by then. Take your time. Look around and when you’re ready to try one on, let me know.” She exited the room, leaving us to the gowns.
As soon as she was safely out of eyesight, Carrie said, “Can you believe that bitch?”
I shushed her. “She might hear you.”
“I don’t
care. Someone needs to take her down a level.”
“Forget that. Can you believe these dresses?”
“They’re gorgeous. And I’m not surprised there’s no price tag. Which one you want?”
Several of the dresses looked a little too couture for me, resembling some weird art pieces whose concepts I couldn’t understand. I was more drawn to the ones that resembled traditional silhouettes, but these were far from traditional. “I think she’s right that I should get a dark color. Just don’t know which one out of these three.” I pointed to a floor-length, slinky red gown with large ruffles at the shoulders. Carrie shrugged and I knew that meant she didn’t like it. “How about this one?” I then pointed at a dark teal cocktail-style with a very long train.
“I know you and you’re going to be aggravated by that train all night.”
“Right. What about this one?” I pointed to an amethyst color with a laced bodice and a full skirt that ballooned out.
“Too ‘Gone with the Wind’,” she said. I sighed, discouraged. Carrie eyed the display case and spotted something at the far end. “Maybe you don’t have to go ultra dark. I think that dress at the end is gorgeous and it would look amazing on you.” I looked over at the dress she had in mind. It was a creamy green jade color with delicate gold accents. It was sleeve-less with a heart-shaped bust and full flowing skirt with an outer layering of the finest organza. It took my breath away.
“That’s the dress,” I marveled.
After I chose the dress, the next thing I needed was a mask. Angelique led me to the locked display case in the main part of the store where dozens of Venetian masks lay against rows of black velvet. Angelique explained the difference in styles. A mask that covered the upper half of the face—usually an eye mask—was called a Columbina. A Bauta covered the whole face and had hard edges, but no mouth. A Medico Della Peste was the most unusual-looking by far with its long, downward curving beak. I had seen pictures of these before in books about Carnivale in Venice, but had never seen one in person. Mardi Gras revelers were not apt to choose this style. The Moretta, on the other hand, was a popular choice for Mardi Gras; like the Bauta, it also covered the whole face, but it was in the likeness of a woman, had a mouth, was rounded, rather than angular, and showed the beginning curvature of the head. Finally, there was the Volto, which covered the whole face, but usually came with a tricorn hat. This one was usually popular among men.
Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 02 - Dark Carnival Page 14
