The area was thronged. Artists sold their wares on the sides of the streets, and horses and carts trotted along, bearing tourists. But Monsieur D himself was nowhere to be found. Once I thought I saw the edge of his black top hat moving through the crowd, but it proved to be a silly man in a magician’s costume.
The whistles took us to the charming gardens in front of St. Louis Cathedral. There, seated casually on a bench, a mocking smile on his visage, was Monsieur D.
“Ah, my young friends. How delightful to see you once more.”
“I am not at all sure it is delightful,” I said.
“Come now. We have all been through so much together,” he said with his big grin. “And you would hardly travel all the way to New Orleans without the courtesy of a visit to dear, old Monsieur D?”
The gnarled looking African American man favored our group with another sinister grin.
“What can we do for you, Monsieur D?” Audrey’s tone was considerably more respectful than my own, probably she feared being turned into an alligator again.
“Ah, my dear Audrey. It is not a case of what you can do for me, but what I can do for you.”
At what price? The thought came unbidden to my mind.
“You know we’re here, in New Orleans, for Luce,” Bryn said, spelling it out in her usual frank, direct way. Bless her.
Monsieur D frowned. “Well, I can only assume you are not here to attack his new camp. There are too few of you and far too many of them. A reconnaissance mission, perhaps?”
“We have no plans to attack anyone,” I said, then eyed him pointedly. “Yet.”
“Good,” Monsieur D replied definitively. “It would be most unwise at this stage. Luce is breeding his army of hybrids at a most alarming rate. I fear you would be severely outnumbered.”
This was bad news indeed.
“How is he managing that?” asked the fop. “I know the hybrids grow and mature extremely quickly,” he cast a glance at Damek, “but Luce only has a finite amount of ...” he looked across nervously at Bryn, “breeders.”
Monsieur D nodded. “Luce now has several other camps across the region, housing females solely for that purpose.”
Breeding camps!
I saw Bryn and Audrey exchange a horrified look. Then Bryn turned to Monsieur D, and the expression on her face was one of utmost urgency.
“Monsieur D, we’re trying to infiltrate the dreams of Luce’s tribe with the hopes that we can undo the brainwashing Luce has forced onto them all these years.”
“The point being?” Monsieur D asked.
“To allow Luce’s people to see for themselves who and what Luce really is and what he’s done to them, and how they are really not so different from us.”
“Ah, yes.” Monsieur D nodded, a sage expression on his face. “Luce, the cult leader.”
“It is uncannily like a cult,” I concurred.
“And have you attempted this yet?” Monsieur D asked Bryn.
“You know we have.” The frog glared at Monsieur D.
The ancient gentleman merely smiled genially. “I make it my business to know what is going on in my neck of the woods, and I owe no apologies for that, young Chevalier. It is one of the reasons I have survived as long as I have.”
“Well, if you know so much about everything we’re doing,” Bryn continued, “then you’ll also know we’ve been unsuccessful so far.”
“Can you help us?” Damek’s voice was urgent.
“Possibly.” Monsieur D examined his fingernails in an irritating manner.
“Look. Can you help us or not?” Bryn folded her arms across her glorious bosoms. Never a good sign, in my experience. Patience was not one of my tempest’s virtues.
Monsieur D gave her a sharp look, but he did reply. “The level of magic you require is beyond even that of myself. However, I may know someone who can help you.”
“You may know someone or you do know someone?” Bryn looked like she was about to explode.
“Well, that all depends,” said Monsieur D, his tone growing harsher, “on how much respect I am given.”
I decided it was time to step in and save the day.
“Forgive my dear princess, Monsieur D. She is most exorcised about this particular matter. She means no disrespect.” Then, behind my hand—so that Bryn could not see, but Monsieur D could—I mouthed the word “hormones.”
Monsieur D raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly. Happily, he did seem appeased.
“I do know of… a lady who can help you.”
“Who is it, Monsieur D?” Audrey looked anxious.
“Her name is Guarda.”
“Guarda!” The Chevaliers spoke in unison, sounding equally horrified.
“Who is this woman?” I asked.
“You don’t want to know,” answered the frog.
“I can assure you I most certainly do.”
“She’s a witch,” Audrey said, and emitted a sigh which matched my own of earlier on.
“Guarda is not a witch,” Monsieur D said with a low chuckle as he shook his head. Then he faced me. “She is, however, the most powerful and the most feared voodoo priestess in the region. Have you ever heard of Marie Laveau?”
“Heard of her?” I muttered, shaking my head. “I lunched with the lady on several occasions.”
“You had lunch with Marie Laveau?” Audrey was, quite naturally, agog.
“Of course I did not partake of the food, but I do recall she was excellent company,” I answered. “The lady kept the most excellent wine cellar, as I recall.”
“Um, who …?” Bryn’s voice was quiet and uncertain at my side.
“Marie Laveau was quite simply the Queen of Voodoo in these parts,” I explained, the Chevaliers nodding in agreement. “Many feared her. Although, I must say, I mostly remember her for her lovely singing voice, and she was quite… attractive.”
“Anyway,” the frog interrupted. “Guarda is a relative of Marie Laveau’s,” he said to the princess. “The most powerful one, I believe.”
“Undoubtedly so,” Monsieur D agreed.
“But she’s also selfish, and her magic is cursed,” Audrey offered.
“Guarda and I go way back,” Monsieur D said as he faced Audrey with tight lips. “I can guarantee that you will befall nothing untoward from Guarda. Not when you are my… friends.”
“We aren’t your friends,” Audrey nearly spat at him.
“This Guarda woman,” Bryn said, stepping closer to Monsieur D. “You believe she has the power capable for us to reach Luce’s tribespeople?”
“I have no doubt,” Monsieur D responded.
Again, the insidious grin.
“At a price, no doubt,” I muttered as the old man turned his attention to me.
“My dear Mr. Sinclair. You and I have lived long enough to know there is no such thing as a free lunch.”
“Indeed,” I responded. “And what is for lunch this time?”
His laugh was more of a cackle. “I prefer to keep my menu a surprise.”
We all exchanged looks, knowing full well the risks involved in entering into agreements with Monsieur D. Last time I had done so, I had lost my vampire powers and become human. It was not something I relished going through again. The fop had only recently escaped being trapped in dreamland. And I was certain Audrey did not want to spend any more time in a Louisiana swamp in the guise of an alligator.
“May we confer, Monsieur D?” This from Audrey.
“Why, certainly. I am not in any great rush. You, on the other hand ...”
Leaving Monsieur D to his bench, the five of us huddled together several feet away.
“I say we do it.” Bryn was the first to speak.
“You would say that! You’ve never met Guarda,” said Audrey. “You don’t know what she’s capable of.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“You mean what’s right with her?” Audrey responded.
“Well, Monsieur D said she has very powerful magi
c, and he made it sound like she’d be willing to help us,” Bryn said.
“Guarda is evil,” the fop explained. “She’s only out for herself. There’s no guarantee she wouldn’t betray us to Luce. Or exact a worse price for her help than even Monsieur D.”
“I don’t see that we have a choice,” Bryn said as she shook her head. “We can’t find a way to do it ourselves. And you heard what Monsieur D said about Luce’s army outnumbering ours.” A pained expression crossed my tempest’s face. “We have to get those women out,” she said.
I noticed Audrey nodding to herself. She appeared torn.
“How about a show of hands?” Bryn asked. “All those in favor of getting Monsieur D to introduce us to Guarda.”
Her own hand shot straight up. She looked at me pointedly. Well, of course I had to support the mother of my child. I, too, raised my hand, even though this Guarda character certainly caused me some unrest. The Chevaliers looked intently at one another. The fop shook his head at his sister.
“It’s not worth it, Audrey. No good will come of dealing with Guarda,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Dureau, but I have to agree with Bryn,” Audrey replied on a sigh. “I see no other way of freeing those women.” She raised her hand.
“My hand is raised too,” said Damek as he did just that. “Not that anyone cares!”
“Your support is much appreciated, young Damek,” I informed him before facing the others. “It appears to be four in favor of approaching Guarda and one opposed.”
We all looked at the frog. He shrugged in that Gallic way of his.
“So be it,” he said. “I don’t like it, but I’m willing to go along with it if I’m outnumbered, which it appears I am. We enlist Guarda’s help.”
All nodding in agreement, we returned to Monsieur D on his bench.
“Well, my friends. Have you come to a decision?” he asked, as if he did not already know.
“We would appreciate Guarda’s help.” Audrey’s voice was humble.
“Excellent!” Monsieur D said as he clapped his hands together and his grin became even wider. “A wise decision, if I may say so. When would you like to meet her?”
“As soon as possible.” The words tumbled out of my heathen’s mouth.
“Very well. Meet me in Slidell this afternoon. At the start of Davis Landing Road. You will need a sturdy vehicle.”
Hurrah! The opportunity to hire a car! A favorite activity of mine. I dearly hoped a Porsche would be available.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sinjin
“For the last time, Sinjin, we are not renting a Porsche!” my little hellion growled at me. “You heard what Audrey and Dureau said. We need an off-road vehicle, not a douchey sports car!”
“Douchey!” I could hardly believe my ears. “I can assure you, my dear princess, that there is nothing douchey about a Porsche. These vehicles are marvels of engineering!”
“Sinjin,” she said, as she turned to face me and her eyes narrowed. “We are renting a Jeep, and that’s the end of it.”
“A Jeep?” I repeated.
She nodded. “We can’t risk getting stuck in the mud on the way to Guarda’s and besides, we need a five-seater. We might have to drive Monsieur D as well.”
No doubt my little hellion was speaking good sense, but that did not mean I had to like it. I was bitterly disappointed as I had had my heart set on a Porsche.
“As long as we do not again find ourselves in a minivan,” I began.
“We won’t rent a minivan,” she promised. “It wouldn’t be four-wheel-drive.”
There were times when I wished I had chosen a more compliant mate.
The Jeep was an ugly monstrosity—large and amorphous and lacking any form of style.
But, alas, it was not a minivan.
At least I was allowed to drive, having beaten off competition from the frog. He sat sulking quietly in the back, between Audrey and Damek. I took great pleasure in having Bryn beside me in the passenger seat. I could almost pretend we were off on a Sunday pleasure trip.
Of course, we would never be pleasuring in an American vehicle.
The city of Slidell was not much prettier than the Jeep, at least based upon the sections we passed through. The sat nav brought us to the oddly named Davis Landing Road, so I accordingly slowed and halted the vehicle. We appeared to be quite alone, with not another person or vehicle in sight. But then, as if by magic, Monsieur D materialized from out of the trees with that ever-present, irritating grin upon his face. He strode towards the Jeep, his gait oddly loose-limbed for a man of his advanced years.
“Good day to you all!” he announced cheerfully as he pushed his way into the back seat beside the others, who all grumbled their dissatisfaction. I found the whole situation quite comical myself.
Before long, it became obvious why a Jeep was a necessity and not a luxury on this occasion. We were driving on a dirt track through dense forest, and even the sat nav did not appear to know where we were. The only landmarks were burnt out automobiles and heaps of old junk.
“Are you sure we are going the right way, Mr. D?” I questioned, concern in my tone. “It appears we are in a trailer park.”
“It’s Monsieur!” he countered aggressively. That was the thing about Monsieur D—he could plaster a big grin on his face all he liked, but sooner or later, the underlying anger showed itself.
“I beg your pardon, Monsieur,” I corrected myself. “Do you consider us to be heading in the correct direction?”
“Oh, yes.” And the anger was gone, just like that. “Guarda prefers to stay well off the beaten track. As long as you keep the Old Pearl River in sight, you can be sure you’re going the right way.”
“Very good.” Indeed, a river periodically revealed itself through gaps in the junk that lined the potted road.
The pits in the road grew progressively worse. I was just beginning to doubt Monsieur D once more when we came to what I believed would be referred to as a “shanty.” Someone had painted it sky blue many moons ago, most likely around the same time that fire was discovered, but presently, it was a peeling wreck.
“We’re here!” Monsieur D announced cheerfully.
I would wager he was the only person in the automobile who looked in any way cheerful. What a dump! A most unwelcoming spectacle! A blue tarpaulin covered what seemed to be a stack of firewood, and a few bedraggled, black chickens pecked periodically at the earth. As we disembarked from the vehicle, the wind gusted and rustled up the sound of clanging glass.
“What’s that?” Bryn jumped and grabbed my arm.
It was not like my hellion to be so jittery, but I did not blame her. There was something about this place …
“It’s just the spirit bottles, Bryn, hanging from that tree,” The frog pointed to a tree which stood in what I supposed passed for the yard. The tree looked entirely dead. In fact, so did the yard. Everything around here appeared eerily dead.
“What’s a spirit bottle?” Bryn sounded worried.
“They’re meant to capture good and evil spirits to protect the home,” explained Audrey. “It’s said that the person who succeeds in imprisoning the spirit within the bottle can force it to carry out their will. They also say you can hear the spirits talking or singing inside the bottles. But that’s just hokum,” she added hastily at the end.
What was hokum and what was not hokum seemed hard to fathom just now. Bryn looked unconvinced by Audrey’s assurance, as, in fact, did Audrey herself.
“I think the young man should remain in the car,” Monsieur D announced.
“What!” Damek was outraged. “Why me?”
“I am not singling you out specifically, young man. It is just that Guarda is not too keen on strangers, so the smaller we can keep the group, the better.”
“Let one of the others stay in the car, then!” Damek ground out.
Monsieur D appeared to be considering the thought. “Perhaps Mr. Sinclair should remain outside also.”
> “Not a chance,” I answered with a firm shake of my head.
“But ...” Damek started.
“Absolutely not! If Bryn is going in, I am going in.”
Monsieur D glared at me momentarily before nodding. I presumed he realized how intractable I was in my intention.
“Well, Dureau and Bryn have to come in, as they are the ones who will be doing the dreaming,” he announced. “And Audrey should come, as Guarda knows her and is aware of her pedigree. I’ll be making the introductions. Sinjin has made his intention clear. So, I’m afraid that leaves you, young man,” Monsieur D finished.
“It’s not fair!” Damek stomped off back to the Jeep, executing the perfect impression of a teenager, whereupon he flung open the back door, climbed in, and slammed the door behind him. Then he immediately affixed his headphones. I must say, I did not understand his great desire to enter the dismal shanty, but I suppose the young are bold and foolish. And no one likes to be left out.
The remaining five of us gathered upon the makeshift porch, which was constructed entirely of rotten wood, pockmarked with woodworm. I half-wondered if it would support our collective weight.
Monsier D knocked on the door three times. The sound rang out ominously. Then, within a matter of seconds, the door creaked open.
Bryn
I’d faced many foes in my time—armies of zombies, master vampires, the mighty Luce himself—but I’d never before been overcome with such a feeling of … evil as I was when I looked at Guarda. Every cell in my body wanted to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction. I might even have done so if it weren’t for Sinjin standing directly behind me, like a giant bulwark. He felt reassuringly solid.
The old woman, maybe eighty, stood before us, saying nothing. She was small in stature but gigantic in presence. She wore a blue bandana around her head. It was pulled down tightly over her ears so you couldn’t see any hair. She could have been as bald as a billiard ball, for all I knew.
She wore a loose blouse and a long skirt which grazed the ground—so much so that it was torn at the hem and stained heavily with mud. Her face was long and lean, with sharp, prominent cheekbones and dark, dusty-looking skin. She was heavily wrinkled and marked with numerous age spots. But what captivated me most were her eyes. Even though they were clouded with cataracts, they seemed to pierce through you.
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