Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 02 - Dark Carnival

by Nancy K. Duplechain

  Angelique insisted that I get one with real jewels, but I politely declined, opting for a lovely Columbina eye mask that tied in the back with black ribbons. The mask was a dark purple with a shimmering of green that matched my dress. It was accented with gold and had one purple and one green feather affixed to the upper right corner.

  When it came time to pay, I let Carrie swipe Miles’ credit card, which made her giddy with excitement. On the way out, she stopped in the door’s threshold as I continued on to the car. She turned to Angelique and said, “By the way, don’t think you’re fooling anybody with those knock-off Jimmy Choo’s you’re wearing.” I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t see Angelique from where I was, but I would have loved to have seen her face. With a smirk, Carrie added, “Maybe you can find something better at the mall.” I couldn’t help it; I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing too loud as I got in the car.

  Carrie entered the passenger seat and, with a Cheshire cat grin, said, “You should have seen the look on that bitch’s face!”

  “You’re terrible,” I said, still laughing.

  “You know she deserved it.”

  “Yeah, but I have to come back in a few days to get the dress, remember?”

  Carrie shrugged. “Who cares? It looks like she worships the ground Miles walks on. I think you’ll be fine. Now, let’s party!”

  I furrowed my brows at her, giving her my best I-know-you-didn’t-just-say-that look.

  “Yes!” she insisted.

  “I told you I didn’t feel like going out.”

  “Look, I haven’t been to NOLA in two years. I’m going out! I’ll go alone if I have to.”

  “All right, have a good time.” She punched me in the arm. “Ow!” I said, and punched her back.

  She sucked in the air through her teeth. “That hurts. Don’t do that!” I glared at her. “C’mon, Leigh. Let’s go out. Like old times, okay? I can tell you need to have a little fun. Pleeease?” she begged.

  I finally caved and agreed to go out, as long as she promised we weren’t going to stay out late. She gave me the Girl Scout pledge and swore up and down that we weren’t going to stay out any later than midnight.

  We hung out at Cee Cee’s for the rest of the day. We invited her to go out with us, but she laughed it off and said she was too old for that, but we should go on and have a good time. Before we left that night, she gave us each a blessing for protection.

  Cee Cee lived close to Bourbon, so we didn’t need a car. We walked the few blocks to party central. It was run amok with tourists and locals who were draped with Mardi Gras beads and, even though it was only 8:30, plenty were stumbling drunk. Soon, the whole scene was a carousel of masks and beads and police on horseback, brawls on the littered street that smelled faintly of urine and vomit, flashes of bare breasts atop balconies. I groaned, but Carrie loved it. She proudly bared her chest several times, earning her shiny, plastic beads. She nudged me to do the same. I said there was no way I was going to do that, but she insisted, and the men on the balcony above us, dangling beads and coaxing me to do it wore me down. And I did it—once—earning a solitary string of beads. After this incident, she excitedly pulled me into one of the bars.

  I loosened up a little more after a couple of drinks and even began to have a good time. We danced, we drank some more, and Carrie flirted with every other guy she saw. I just laughed at her and told her there was no way Cee Cee would let her come back with a man.

  “Maybe she’d make an exception,” she said, a lustful look in her eyes as she gazed across the bar. I looked in that direction and saw Noah at the other end, beer in hand, watching a game on the TV over the bar. I was positive it was no coincidence that he was there. I was sure Miles still had him looking out for me.

  He glanced our way. Carrie tried to make a connection with him, but he was looking at me. Our eyes awkwardly met, a moment of uncertainty between us, then he looked away.

  “What’s his problem?” asked Carrie.

  I didn’t answer her rhetorical question. She quickly forgot about Noah when a guy asked her to dance. She eagerly obliged. My happy, care-free feeling was over for the night as I couldn’t get Noah out of my head.

  He turned my way again and this time was able to hold his eyes on me. I smiled sadly at him. He returned it, raising his bottle in a half-hearted salute. I did the same, and we drank. He then came around to my side, taking a seat at one of the bar stools next to me.

  He turned back to glance at Carrie dancing with her new partner. “That your friend?” he asked me.

  “Yeah. My best friend.”

  He nodded politely. “You looked like you were having a good time.” He said this while eyeing my beads.

  I felt myself turning five shades of red, realizing that he had probably been watching us since we left Cee Cee’s and saw how I earned my beads. “Oh, it’s a thrill a minute in the Big Easy,” I said sarcastically and took another sip of my beer.

  He laughed softly.

  “So, are you here to party, or does Miles still have you following me around?”

  “It’s for your protection. He’s worried that there’s a possibility of another encounter like the one you had at Cee Cee’s shop. Or worse, one like at the convent.”

  “Well, thanks then. For looking out for me.”

  He seemed troubled, like he wanted to say something, but struggled. He set his beer down on the bar and looked over his shoulder and then back down at the bar. “The other day, when Cee Cee heard about Nadia, she came to Miles’ right away. Miles knew you’d be alone, so he told me to go keep an eye on you. But I didn’t. I’m sorry for that. If I had been there, Sam wouldn’t have gotten near you.”

  I considered how hard it was for him to admit this. “It wasn’t your fault. It turned out okay. And I know you were upset about Nadia—”

  “Just take the apology, okay?”

  I nodded quietly and took another sip of my beer. Despite the crowded bar, it felt suddenly too quiet in there. Noah looked down at the bottle in his hand, and I didn’t know what else to say to him. He seemed too on edge for me to talk about what happened to Nadia. And small talk seemed silly at this point.

  It was actually a relief when Carrie nudged in between us and started flirting with Noah. “Hi,” she said to him.

  “Hey,” he replied, smiling, but avoiding eye contact. Before Carrie could utter another word, Noah excused himself. “Have a good night, ladies.” He motioned to the bar tender who came over and took his money. He then left the bar with a perplexed Carrie staring after him. I was sure he didn’t go far, choosing to blend in with the crowd so he could watch over us without forcing awkward conversation.

  “Do you know that guy?” she asked me.

  “Not very well. Hardly at all, really.”

  15

  A Grim Rule

  Carrie woke up the next morning with a hangover. I felt perfectly fine, physically anyway. I was a bundle of nerves because the ball was tomorrow night. Miles wanted me to meet him at the convent for some last minute training. Other than that, I was free the rest of the day.

  I was having breakfast with Cee Cee when Carrie sloshed into the kitchen, holding her head, looking slightly better than the zombie Noah had killed. Cee Cee and I stifled a laugh, but Carrie heard us anyway.

  “Not funny!” she said in a loud whisper and then whimpered. She sat down with us and poured herself a glass of orange juice from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

  “I told you that you were overdoing it,” I said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, propping her head up with her fist.

  Cee Cee laughed and got up from the table. She opened a cabinet over the stove and came back with a small, white slip of paper. She unfolded it and carefully tilted it over Carrie’s orange juice. A white, powdery substance poured out of the paper and dissolved into the juice.

  “Drink that. It’ll make you feel much better,” she said.

  Carrie looked at it and nervou
sly bit her lip. “Uh, what is it? Some kind of Voodoo herb?”

  Cee Cee laughed loudly. “Girl, that’s BC Powder!” She laughed again. “Voodoo herb,” she muttered to herself and then laughed once more.

  I laughed, too. Carrie chugged down the rest of her juice. Later, she was feeling much better and forced me to go to a parade. This time, Cee Cee came with us.

  They were the last of the night, and the second I saw them at the end of the small line, my heart ached. A woman in a tattered coat and faded blue jeans held the hand of a little boy of about six. He wore a ski cap, but it was clear he had no hair on his head. His frail body seemed so small in the jacket that was about two sizes too big for him. The mother gently tried to push the boy toward us. “No, momma,” the boy whispered.

  “Go on. They won’t hurt you,” she said softly. The little boy looked up at me with fear but also with great hope as he hesitantly walked up to us.

  “My head hurts a lot. Momma said y’all can help it stop hurting,” he said, barely above a whisper.

  “We’ll see what we can do,” I said, smiling at him as I lifted my hand to touch his head.

  Miles stopped me, gently pulling back my arm. He took a deep breath, looked at the mother and said, “I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do.”

  I turned to Miles, my mouth agape. “What?”

  “Please, sir,” begged the mother. “I can pay—” she started, reaching into one of the tattered pockets of her coat.

  “It’s not money,” said Miles. “We cannot heal him. God is calling him.”

  “No!” said the mother, trying to choke back tears.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” said Miles.

  “Wait,” I said, becoming angry. “What about that old man who had cancer? The one you healed a few weeks ago? Wasn’t God calling him?”

  Miles ignored me and addressed the mother again. “I’m very sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Oh, God! Dear Lord!” cried the woman, holding her young son to her. In the corner of my eye, I saw Sisters Wendy and Melanie coming our way.

  “How do you know there’s nothing we can do unless we try?” I pleaded of Miles, begging him to see reason.

  “God is calling him,” he said softly to me. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “But how do you know?” I asked. He glared at me, his eyes pleading with me to shut up and let this woman on her way. I stood up and went to the boy. “Let me try,” I said. Miles stood up and stopped me, firmly grabbing my arm.

  “Please, sir! I’m begging you!” cried the mother. The sisters took a gentle hold of the mother, pulling her away as she cried out to Miles to save her son. The frightened boy began to cry, too. I saw the sisters trying to comfort her as they escorted her out the door.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked Miles, jerking my arm back, angrier now than I had been in a long time.

  “I said there was nothing we could do.”

  “I don’t understand! Why could you help that old man, but not this boy? How do you know God is calling this little kid but not the old man?”

  Miles kept an even tone to his voice as he answered me. “I could see the guardians waiting for him.”

  “Guardians?”

  “The angels who will carry him to the next life. They wait for the dying. They are always there when a life is about to end. As you become a stronger healer, you will begin to see them, too. They weren’t there when the old man was here. He had more to do in this life.”

  “And that little boy doesn’t have more to do?!” I was becoming irate.

  Miles shrugged sadly. “It’s not for me to decide.”

  “But you could have helped him!”

  “Yes. But we’re not supposed to.”

  “Does that really matter at this point? Who cares if you break a rule in the stupid paladin handbook? You can save a life!”

  “You cannot go against God’s rules.”

  “What kind of god would want this innocent boy to die?!”

  “Not for me to decide,” he repeated with that same even tone. That made me angrier than anything. I punched the wall near me as hard as I could. It hurt like hell, but I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. Miles gathered his things and headed toward the door. Before he left, he said over his shoulder, “However angry you are with me right now, try to let it go. You’ll have no room for emotions tomorrow. You need to be focused now more than ever.” He walked out, leaving me to my fury.

  16

  The Lion’s Den

  It was a long drive to the Grigori House. I couldn’t help but notice how good Noah looked in his tux and black-and-silver eye mask which brought out his gray eyes. He did not speak, but by his distant look, I could tell he was troubled.

  “So, what do you think of my dress?” I asked, trying to make small talk, but it came out sounding more trivial than I had intended.

  “You look nice,” he answered, not taking his eyes from the road.

  “Thanks. You look pretty good, too.”

  He said nothing, lost in his own thoughts. We drove the rest of the way in silence as the last sliver of sun slipped beneath the distant gray clouds on the lake’s horizon.

  When we arrived we found ourselves at the end of a long line of cars. Each vehicle took turns pulling up to the grand entrance of the main house. Tall, slender poplar trees lined the pathway leading to the enormous dwelling whose exterior was mostly gray stone with four gray marbled Corinthian columns; it was dark and beautiful with all the windows glowing from the soft interior lights. As I watched the guests arrive, doors were opened for ladies as gentlemen handed their keys over to masked valets who drove the vehicles to a large sectioned off lot about a hundred yards from the house. Each couple donned elaborate costumes with masks and precious jewels.

  “Look at all of them,” I marveled, taking in the crowd of two hundred or so guests as we inched our way to the entrance. “Will they all turn into Dark Ones?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unless we get the mask.” I waited for him to agree with me, but he remained silent as we inched further down the line until we were two cars away from the valets.

  “There’s a good chance we won’t get that mask in time,” he said softly. I turned to him, and his eyes regarded me earnestly. “You know that, right?” I considered this and nodded.

  We were now the next car in line. “Stay as close to me as possible the whole time,” he added. “And if anything happens to me—”

  “—heal you,” I finished.

  We pulled up to the entrance, and Noah put his car in park. I went to open my door, but he put a gentle-but-firm hand on my arm. I glanced back at him. “Just run,” he said, his eyes stern but pleading. Before I could answer, my door opened, and one of the masked valets reached out a hand to help me out. Noah handed his spare key to the other valet.

  There was a long red carpet lined with black velvet rope on either side, leading up to the grand entrance of the manor, which loomed up three stories above us. In any other setting, it could be mistaken for a small fairytale castle, but we were far from the sunny side of the fairytale.

  The guests crowded each side of the red carpet, but did not enter the house. The valet took the car, and then Noah came to me. We joined the crowd on the right side of the carpet and waited for the last of the guests to arrive.

  “Why is everyone waiting out here?” I whispered, starting to shiver in the cold February air.

  “They’re waiting for the King and Queen to arrive.”

  “Well, when do they get here? I’m freezing.”

  Noah took off his jacket and hung it around my shoulders. “Thanks,” I murmured.

  He tilted his head up and sniffed the air. “They’ll be here soon.”

  “You can smell them?”

  “No, but I can smell and hear the horses getting closer.”

  “Horses?”

  The last car arrived, and the couple exited their car, handing over the keys to one of the last
valets—most of the others had left, dwindling the workers to just two, who waited at the head of the red carpet on the road side. The chatter all around us had been a steady murmur for the last fifteen minutes, but it soon grew to a loud buzz as an air of excitement hit the crowd.

  That buzz grew louder and, with it, applause that steadily built up from the left side of the carpet. The guests on our side craned their necks upward to see over the crowd. Soon, I saw a large, white carriage, pulled by four Arabian white horses, come into view. It looked like something out of a fairytale as the horses clopped up to the red carpet, bringing the carriage to rest before the costumed guests. A deafening applause erupted, and laughter rang out into the twilight.

  The two remaining valets opened the carriage door. They each held out a hand and each was greeted with a long, delicate, arm that was swathed with a white glove. The valets helped the lady out of the carriage and onto the red carpet. The applause grew louder. Next, the valets did the same for the only other figure in the carriage. Once the two were planted firmly on the carpet, the applause grew impossibly louder, along with cheers and laughter as the valets drove the carriage away.

  The two figures were dressed completely in white, from their feathered headdress and full-face Venetian masks, all the way down to their shoes. The lady’s dress was full skirt, down to her ankles. The material—which appeared to be silk, layered with organza—puffed up around her and nearly covered her white slippers. The gentleman had on a sort of long, draped robe of the same material, which also puffed up around him. Each had a cloak and an elaborate white collar.