by D C Young
“Yeah. Turns out his client had some very important information about something that’s going to happen in Louisiana. As soon as the charges are dropped, they’ll both be flying out there to meet up with a couple of our other colleagues. It’s a big deal and they’ve asked for my help. I would have taken you all with me but I’m not sure what’s happening out there; it could be dangerous. I’m sorry if it’s an inconvenience.”
“Dangerous? Inconvenience? These aren’t words we typically use on summer vacation, Sam,” Mary Lou said as she sat up in her hammock. “There’s no way we’re gonna abandon you in the middle of the trip, the kids would have too many questions. And furthermore, New Orleans in summertime, you’ve got to be kidding! What’s more beautiful than that?” Rick looked like he was about to say something but Mary Lou stopped him dead in his tracks. “Don’t you even say Mardi Gras, Mister, or I’ll sock you over the head with this flip flop.”
Rick laughed, then turned to Sam and said, “I’m volunteering at the Fire Station next week but I’m sure I can push it back a couple of days. When do you think we’ll be heading back to Cali?”
“I would think by Sunday morning but if it gets more complicated, you guys and the kids will be going on home while I might have to stay behind,” Sam replied.
There was a moment of silence as they seemed to be mulling over the new arrangements and then Mary Lou suddenly howled, “It’s settled then, bring on Bourbon Street!”
Four days later we were on our way to New Orleans… just like that.
Damn, I love my family. They’re just a weird as I am sometimes!
Chapter Thirteen
Rick
I love New Orleans.
When our flight finally landed at Louis Armstrong New Orleans airport, the kids were almost in a full blown frenzy. Mary Lou and I had been coming up with all sorts of amazing plans for our stay in the city and I could tell the kids were quickly becoming mind-blown by it all.
There was Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral, The City of the Dead and Madame Laveau’s tomb, Bourbon Street and Lake Pontchartrain, The Audubon Nature Institute and the Aquarium of the Americas. But most importantly, and what was certain to come first, was beignets and coffee and food, food and more food.
And drinks of course… we had Mary Lou in tow after all.
Her stomach had actually started growling as soon as we got into the cab to go to the hotel. All the talk of delicious New Orleans cuisine was making Sam’s stomach grumble too, but we all knew it wasn’t for fried sweet dough covered in powdered sugar.
Mary Lou and I had promised to take the kids straight to the DeVille Coffee House for lunch where they could have either Crepes Suzette and beignets or a hearty Muffaletta, a sandwich with loads of ham, salami, mozzarella and olive salad on a Kaiser roll. Tammy couldn’t wait to get her hands on one of the bowl sized cups of café-au-lait, while Anthony could already taste the ham and olives.
So, in an effort to get everyone satisfied in a timely manner, Sam suggested we go straight to the coffee shop to eat while she went with the luggage and got us all checked in at the hotel. The idea pleased everyone and no one thought to ask if she was hungry too.
Of course she was hungry, just not for crepes and coffee.
She had frequented a vampire food vendor, suggested by her friend, Veronica Melbourne, a few times while we were in Savannah. According to Mary Lou, Sam had found the service to be high quality and discreet. So, as soon as she got into the hotel suite she would be sharing with Tammy and Anthony, Sam quickly dug through her hand bag for the set of business cards Veronica had given her weeks before our departure from California.
It was a virtual black book of all the underground ‘vampire food vendors’ Veronica usually patronized while out and about on her travels across the lower forty-eight states. In New Orleans, she would be visiting a little red brick house on Fairway Drive in Metairie, where a gentleman by the name of Castille would provide her with as many clean, safe and legally obtained blood bags as she could pay for. No questions asked.
It wasn’t a long walk to that part of town and Sam wasn’t afraid to go alone either.
She’s a fricking vampire for crying out loud. And more importantly my amazing, bad-ass sister-in-law!
Finding the red brick house wasn’t difficult either. She was a little surprised by that and even more so by how ordinary the place looked. It gave new meaning to the phrase, ‘hiding in plain sight’. When she’d described the neighborhood to us later that evening, I was convinced that none of the neighbors even imagined that they lived next door to a vampire blood bank.
After her refreshing and nutritious visit at Castille’s place, Sam took a walk through Metairie Cemetery and then a tram ride straight down Canal Street and around to Toulouse Station. From there, she walked leisurely back to St. Ann’s Street, sauntering through Jackson Square and enjoying the views of St. Louis Cathedral on the way back to our hotel.
Chapter Fourteen
Anthony
I really love New Orleans.
I’m a guy of simple pleasures, what can I say.
The minute we sat down at DeVille Coffee House, I was in heaven. Firstly, a pretty Cajun girl came to our table to wait on us. She was gorgeous, with pale grey eyes as big and round as almonds and a pretty smile. Much to my chagrin, Tammy caught me staring a couple of times and kicked me under the table. At least she didn’t tease me.
That was one thing about my sister, she never teased me… not anymore at least, and I tried my best to return the favor.
Uncle Rick took charge of ordering for everyone. Both he and Aunt Mary seemed to know the menu there inside and out; he also seemed to know exactly what she wanted to eat.
I admire those two so much. When I grow up I want to meet someone and have a relationship like theirs.
He ordered for us kids first. Deluxe BLT’s and creamy vanilla milkshakes for my three cousins.
They were bouncing around in their seats at the mere mention of that.
A Mufalletta sandwich with the works and a large coke for me.
Amen, I can hear all the angels in heaven singing…
“I’ll have the same for myself as well,” Uncle Rick added, just to make the waitress’ job a little easier.
Crepes Suzette and beignets with a cup of decaf café-au-lait for Tammy.
“May I have it in one of those big cups?” she asked excitedly.
The waitress nodded her head and in a smooth accent, replied, “That’s how we serve it, little miss. Would you like foam and cinnamon on top?”
“Yes, please!”
The waitress made a note of that on her order sheet.
Finally, he asked for a Croque Madame, a berry salad and a tall iced mocha for Aunt Mary.
When the food arrived, there was silence at the table. You would have thought we’d been prisoners of war for the last year and just released to have a decent meal. At least my cousins didn’t lick the plates clean or wipe the milkshake out of the glass with their fingers.
I think that was just out of sheer fear of what Aunt Mary would do to them if they did.
My sandwich was delicious. Being a California kid, I can appreciate a good olive when I taste one and the ones in my sandwich were top notch and delicious. The cold cuts too, were the best quality and that Kaiser roll had to be bakery fresh.
Tammy mmmm’d and yummed her way through every bite of her crepes and coffee and after taking just one of the beignets from the giant plate that had come out of the kitchen for her, she passed the rest around so the rest of us could have some dessert.
OMG… beignets! My new favorite food. They should be a food group all to themselves.
Chapter Fifteen
Mary Lou
What a wonderful place NOLA is.
After lunch, Rick took the kids and me on a short walking tour as we made our way towards St. Ann’s Street. We walked through Jackson Square and Rick answered all kinds of questions the kids had about the cathedral an
d the city’s history.
On the corner of Jackson Square and St. Ann Street, about a block from our hotel, my three little monsters caught sight of a shaved ice seller and instantly forgot they’d just downed huge BLT’s and milkshakes. They were howling for the sweet, cold treat like starving street urchins.
I was glad I relented anyway. In the end, meeting the woman selling the icy treats was one of the precious gems I would take from our trip.
As she served the children freshly shaved ice flavored with sweet, homemade cherry sauce, she smiled at Rick and I and asked if we were enjoying our visit to New Orleans so far. The kids sat in a row along a low wall eating merrily as the two of us stood chatting with the lovely lady. Her name was Finelle, a very Creole name, if you asked me, and she spoke eloquently and very highly of her home town.
Before we left her to head on to the Hotel D’armes, she handed me a thick booklet the local Visitor Center handed out to tourists.
“Read the excerpt on page fifteen, ma’am,” she said with a little wink. “It was written by a local woman whose family has lived in South Louisiana for centuries. I think she sums up how we all feel about our hometown in the very best words there are.”
I took the booklet and thanked her profusely.
Later that night, after the kids were asleep, I showered and put on my dressing gown, then sat in the comfy armchair by the hotel room desk and read the article. It was entitled, ‘New Orleans: my beloved city’ by Erika Benoir Blackwell of Pointe Coupee parish.
It read:
‘There’s nothing quite like New Orleans, especially the Vieux Carré or the French Quarter, in wintertime. From Halloween to New Year’s Day, the entire city teems with silent celebration. During the months of October and November, there are several festivals celebrating the arts and cuisine of Louisiana, such as Voodoo on the Bayou and the New Orleans Film Festival. But those are just vehicles by which the city council has lured off season tourists to the South Eastern parishes for years. No one who lives here cares much about those.
‘For native New Orleanians, the activities at the end of the year begin with the two feast days of October 31st and November 1st. Once All Hallow’s Eve and the Feast of All Saints have passed, the city seems to melt back into its old resolve, a shroud of calm nonchalant respite, which her faithful residents enjoy so immensely, and patiently waits for December.
‘Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, swiftly followed by New Years Day end a rather busy season and the pace slows almost to a halt except for those who will be marching in the street come Fat Tuesday. After all, once the year has begun, the only thing on everyone’s minds will be Easter, and preceding it glorious Mardi Gras.
‘No matter the time of year, the city always seems to have something to offer everyone, but we who live here know much better than that. If you ask Madame Moliniere, at the local herb and magic shop near the Rue St. Anne, she would tell you that New Orleans is very much like an onion.
“It seems like a simple enough thing on the surface, but the more you peel it, the more layers you expose and the deeper you dig, the more likely it is that the city will reduce you to tears.”’
As soon as I had put the booklet down on the nightstand, there was a soft knock on the door. I knew it was Sam. It was almost midnight; regular business hours for her kind and her line of work.
Chapter Sixteen
Sam
The Benoirs and the Yemaya.
“I’m heading to Benoir House to meet with the Blackwell sisters. I shouldn’t be long,” I told Mary Lou. “Listen out for Tammy and Anthony for me, please.”
“Sure thing, Sam. Good luck.”
My destination was only a few blocks away and as I stepped out onto St. Ann Street, I decided to take Royal Street across to Toulouse then turn North West and walked towards Dauphine Street. When I got to the corner that was dominated on both sides by Benoir House, I knew I was at the right place.
The top floors wrapped around the corner flawlessly each with a balcony that ran around the entire length of the building. Black wrought iron columns and balustrades contrasted beautifully against the cornflower blue walls trimmed in white and navy blue. Baskets of colorful petunias and dianthus hung at regular intervals and set back against the walls were terracotta pots with dwarf palms in them.
At the courtyard gate, there was a doorbell. I rang it once and waited. A few moments and soon a young woman in a flowing white dress came walking towards the gate.
“Miss Moon?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “I’m here to see Erika and Jade Blackwell.”
“I’m Jade Benoir Blackwell,” she replied as she opened the lock on the gate and held it open for me to pass through. “Erika and I have been expecting you. Come in.”
When I stepped into the foyer, Jade led the way through to a formal sitting room. Her sister, Erika, was waiting for us.
“Good evening, Miss Moon,” Erika said, extending her hand to shake mine. As usual, I was hesitant, but Erika insisted, clasping it firmly. “Rest assured, you are not the first and neither will you be the last vampire whom I’ve touched, Samantha Moon.”
“It’s a force of habit,” I attempted to explained. “It’s nice to finally meet you both.”
“Yes, I assume you might have heard as much about us as we have about you.” An expression of confusion spread across my face. “Our mutual friends…”
“Oh! Julia and Bridget?”
“They had a lot to say about you while they were with us.”
“Huh! Have they left already? I was under the impression from Rennie Telfair that several key persons were coming together to decide what to do in the wake of Yemaya. I assumed Julia and Bridget were included considering Bridget raised the alarm.”
“Your assumption was quite correct but seeing as our mutual friends are… umm, of your special nature, we thought it best that they go ahead of us to our ancestral home at Raccourci while we remained behind to await your arrival.”
“We thought it best to meet there where everyone’s privacy and security can be guaranteed. It is all well guarded by very old and deep rooted spells.”
So, the others… the factions, will they all be present at the meeting?”
“Everyone of them,” Erika confirmed. “And anyone absent will be deemed to be in allegiance with the Sea Goddess in this attempt to destroy New Orleans.”
“Fair enough. When is the meeting set for?”
“Tomorrow at midnight.”
“What about my family? I’m not comfortable leaving them on their own in the city with so much going on and danger on our doorstep.”
“We thought it would be unwise as well,” Jade replied. “I’ve made reservations for you all to spend the day touring the magnificent Parlange Plantation after which you will retire to the Magnuson Hotel. A car will pick you up at 11 pm to bring you to Raccourci.”
“Sounds like its all been well planned out,” I said as I stood up to take my leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”
“See you tomorrow, Sam,” Erika said as she walked Sam out towards the courtyard.
The walk back to hotel on St. Ann Street was short but lonely. But it wasn’t long before I was putting the key-card into the lock on my hotel room door and pushing it open.
Chapter Seventeen
Tammy
Louisiana…even more haunted than Savannah.
The drive out to Parlange Plantation on our second day in New Orleans was boring. I saw some strange things but after getting tired of trying to figure out what I was seeing and why; I just put my earphones in and closed my eyes.
We were on our way to Point Coupee parish to do some sightseeing while my mom met up with some important people for a case. She works so hard. I don’t hold it against her anymore though cause I’ve seen how much my brother can eat.
I wish she could just relax though… turn fully off. But then maybe she’d turn into just another boring soccer mom and we aren’t having any of that!
When we got to the plantation, I saw my mom’s friends seated on the massive verandah of the main house. I smiled when I felt the auras coming off the two women. One was a witch, the other a vampire like mom; but much, much older.
We said our hellos and followed Aunt Mary through the house to the ground floor bathroom. Then we joined another small group on a kind of tractor-pulled wagon for a guided tour of the property. Mom stayed behind to talk with her friends.
From the moment I’d gotten out of the SUV, I’d been seeing ghosts. They were everywhere at Parlange. Some were slaves and some were probably the former owners. They all seemed too busy going about their business that they didn’t notice us at all. Twice, I saw a ghost step out of the way of a wandering tourist who, of course, hadn’t seen the ghost coming.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted from the sun, the endless babbling about the plantation’s history and most of all from overhearing the ceaseless conversations of the ghosts of Parlange.
Chapter Eighteen
Parlange Plantation
By the time our refreshments were done, I could see Jade and Bridget were eager to get our discussion started. I sent the group off for a guided tour of the plantation then sat down with the two to discuss the proposed agenda for the midnight meeting.
I was looking out across the front yard of the house when suddenly, I had to sit up and take note of what was going on. I looked across the porch and watched carefully, following the specters I saw walking across the pristine lawn towards the side of the house. I knew that my expression changed several times before I was finally able to settle down again.