by Fiore, L. A.
She stopped rooting through her things. “He’s the one in the pictures.”
“A version of him,” I clarified.
“Do you remember?”
“Their story?” I walked to the windows and looked out at the bustling city, did so because it hurt. I didn’t remember but still it hurt.
“Their story? Aren’t you them?”
“Not anymore. And no I don’t remember. I wish I did, but I wouldn’t change it. From the pictures, from what lingers, they had what I imagine so many people search for. Ugly didn’t taint it; it wasn’t fashioned from circumstance. It was just two souls finding one another and making a life.”
She wiped at her eyes. “I envy them.”
I did too, but their story was over. Nothing that happened now could touch them and that made me happy. She started digging through her bag again. I asked, “How long have you been here?”
“Not long.”
I glanced around the empty apartment. “You don’t live here.”
She looked sheepish. “No, but before I got into Misty Vale, I needed a place.”
“Who got you into Misty Vale?”
“I think you have enough to deal with; besides, he won’t like me ruining his entrance.”
“Well, whoever he is I’m grateful.”
Affection moved over her face before she said, “The men are waiting.” She pulled out an ensemble similar to what she was wearing.
“I don’t think I’m ready to dress like…” I waved my finger in her direction, “…that.”
“It’s comfortable, but more it’s good in a fight.”
“I’m not planning on getting into a fight. I just want to get settled at Bain’s then maybe look around the city.”
She actually huffed out a breath before she started digging into her bag again. Short shorts, so short I wasn’t sure they could be called shorts landed on top of the leather.
“Don’t you have jeans and a tee?” I asked.
Another huff, but jeans and a white tee landed on top of the shorts.
The bayou was its own little world, an ecosystem that maintained itself. It was magnificent. The water rippled as an alligator dipped below the surface. An owl hooted in a tree as a crane dove into the water seeking dinner. Humidity hung in the air, dampening my skin. Bain’s place was an estate right on the banks of the bayou. It was beautiful, completely concealed by trees and long grass. There was something romantic about the setting.
“I’ll show you to your room,” Bain offered.
“I’ll show you yours.” Brock was far less civil when saying that to Aine. She tossed her bag at him.
We reached my room, and Bain held the door. “I’m right across the hall, Brock is two doors down, Aine is right next to you.”
I looked around. It was so different from what I knew. Overwhelmed, I didn’t reply with words, just nodded my head. Seeming to understand, he said. “I’ll be downstairs.” He closed the door behind him.
The walls were painted a soft green. The floors were a dark wood. The bed was huge, covered in a hunter green spread. There was a flat screen television on the wall, an electronic box under it. French doors led out to a balcony that overlooked the bayou. I stepped outside, inhaled the crisp air and resisted the urge to pinch myself because I couldn’t believe I was here.
I had questions nagging at me, like considering how long he held me, Dr. Ellis didn’t put up that much of a fight to keep me. I knew it was because of me this was happening, even not being sure of the details. That gutted me. And Dr. Ellis, what was his role? Was any of it real or was I still back in my room drugged out of my head?
If this was a hallucination, I wanted to stay for a while. Never had a vision been so visceral. Those beignets were amazing; the sights of the city felt so real, the pulsing of my blood whenever Bain was around stirred feelings both familiar and intoxicating.
It wasn’t a coincidence he was here. We weren’t the same people, but we were still linked, the sheriff too. Aine was sent to help and by someone powerful enough to get through the magic that had kept me trapped. Who?
The crows appeared, settling next to me on the balcony. I touched the black feathers of the one stroking his chest. Hellhounds. Had that been real? How did I have hellhounds guarding me? But they were, had been for a while. There was a part of me that thought I truly was crazy, but whatever this was, I intended to enjoy it. A war was coming, death on its heels. Deep down I knew how it would end, but before that, I wanted to experience a little of what I’d been missing.
I looked down at Aine’s clothes. I needed clothes for myself. Maybe Aine and I could go shopping; of course, I didn’t have money. I needed a job. That was first, getting a job. I’d ask Josiah if he could ask his wife sooner rather than later.
I made my way downstairs, following the sound of voices. Josiah was pacing the living room. He was feeling as I was…it was a lot to take in. There was no question the beings in the room were more than human, a hum of magic pulsed the air.
There was an elderly woman among them. As soon as I entered, her whiskey-colored eyes landed on me.
Cyril made the introductions. “This is my grandmamma, Esther.”
She crossed the room, her old hands taking my own. “We didn’t see you. You were blocked.” Her head tilted. “You don’t know who you are.”
My pulse raced. “Do you?”
“No.” She studied me for a minute though I couldn’t read her. “I’ll consult the Ancestors.”
“The Ancestors?” the sheriff asked as he looked over at Cyril. “You’ve mentioned them. You can actually communicate with them?” he asked Esther.
“In a sense. They leave clues, and I know how to read them.”
“But they didn’t see Miss Blackwood?”
“They were blocked.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know.”
The sheriff was frustrated, but he kept it together. “Something is coming? Could it have been that?”
“Possibly, but I’m not sure it was evil that blocked her from us. It feels different.”
He looked about as confused as me, but he continued on. “What is coming?” he asked.
She sounded grave when she said, “Evil.”
“When?”
“It’s been prophesied for generations and that prophecy has begun, but I don’t know. It could be tomorrow; it could be years from now, but it will be in this lifetime.”
The sheriff rubbed his neck. “I’m guessing you aren’t saying general evil, nontangible, you’re talking about a manifestation of evil.”
“It can take many forms, but yes.”
“And it’s coming here, to New Orleans. Why?”
“I think that is a discussion best saved for later.”
Josiah glanced over at me, and though he didn’t like it, I could see him putting it aside. “I’m definitely outside of my area of expertise, but I have a city to protect. Hell, I’m still investigating the deaths of three kids, all of which have a connection to the supernatural.” That earned him everyone’s attention. “And saying that out loud I get why you’re all looking at me like that.” He rubbed a hand over his head before he muttered, “I can’t believe I said that sentence with a straight face.”
“Supernatural?” Esther asked.
“We can get into that later. Ivy has had enough for one day.” Bain left no room for argument. Inwardly, I smiled because we weren’t the same people, and still, there was a connection, a little of what had been remained. A very personal reason to fight what was coming.
“I imagine you are curious to see the city,” Esther guessed.
“I am. I saw some of it this afternoon. I had a beignet. It was delicious.”
“Good. It’s important for you to experience it, walk among New Orleans’ people,” she said.
I intended to.
Josiah looked out of sorts, but considering all he’d learned today, he was handling it surprisingly well. “In a lot of ways, I’m fee
ling like you do, confused, angry, and scared. We’ll figure it out.” I glanced around the room. “Together, we’ll figure it out.”
I walked the sheriff to his car. Cyril stayed back to see his grandmamma home. “Could you ask your wife about the job?”
He stopped and turned to me. “Hitting the ground running?” he teased.
“Something like that. I want a life, a real life. Whatever is coming, I’d like to experience a little of what I’m fighting to protect.”
Understanding and compassion moved over his face. “I’ll ask her tonight.”
“Thank you.”
He reached for the car door, but stopped. “We need to discuss Ellis, but more importantly, there is something you need to see.” He climbed into his car. “But first, we’ll get you a job.”
I couldn’t sleep. I stood on the balcony for a while and watched the night, how the clouds rolled over the moon and the breeze through the trees. I remembered this place, a part of the memories of the lives I’d lived, I remembered home and the bayou. New Orleans was home. It twisted knowing evil was preying here, hurt more knowing I was the reason for that. I’d make it right, knew somehow I’d already taken steps to do that, but the ache was a constant companion.
My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since the beignet. I moved through the house until I found the kitchen. A refrigerator. I was thirty-two, and it was the first time I was seeing one. Pulling it open, it was packed with food. Bain and his crew liked to eat. A sound behind me turned my head. Aine.
“Hungry?”
“I am.”
“What do they have in there?” She joined me and let out a low whistle. “Damn. Ribs. I love ribs.”
“Ribs?”
“Barbeque ribs. They are delicious. Trust me.” She pulled the plate out and dropped it on the table. “They have potato salad too.” Another dish followed the first. She lifted the foil off another dish. “Is that jambalaya?” She took that too.
A tingle danced down my spine. Twisting my head, Bain was leaning against the doorjamb. “Hungry?”
With her head still in the fridge, Aine answered, “Starving.”
He hit the switch, flooding the kitchen with light before moving to the stove.
Aine glanced up. “What are you doing?”
“It’s Ivy’s first time eating real food, it has to be served right.”
My heart rolled in my chest. Aine glanced from Bain to me, her expression softened. “That’s fair.”
“Are we eating?” Brock asked, strolling into the kitchen with only a pair of jeans on. Aine nearly choked on the apple she’d just taken a bite of.
“Get the bacon,” Bain said to Brock as he wrapped up the ribs and stuck them in the oven.
Aine’s eyes widened. “You have bacon?”
The expression on Bain’s face made me chuckle. It was silly and adorable and coming from him…very funny.
Aine grabbed a pan. “Bacon is life, Ivy.”
“We should have eggs too,” Brock suggested, but he was already pulling the eggs from the fridge.
I was just going to grab a piece of fruit, but seeing them moving around the kitchen, cooking up a feast for me. My eyes burned but in the best possible way. I’d never had this. I didn’t even know them, but yet, here they were.
As the scents filled the kitchen, others joined us, so many that we moved the party to the dining room. Platters of food dropped on the table, pitchers of sweet tea, plates and napkins. No one reached for the food.
“You go first,” Aine said.
This was what I had been missing. I could get angry, but instead, I was grateful to have found it. Better late than never.
“Take some bacon,” she said. “And ribs.”
I took a little of everything, the eggs Brock made, the bacon that Bain cooked, the ribs and potato salad. The flavors were incredible, the most delicious meal of my life, but it was who had made it, that they had made it for me, that I was sitting at this table with the noise of several conversations going on at once and I was a part of it. My eyes burned as I lowered my head. This was what it felt like when a dream came true.
17
The Gathering had begun. Soon the ones he sought would be within reach. The barrier was weakening, and his powers were growing stronger. They assembled to save the world, but together, they would end it.
18
Ivy
I was up early and out of the house. I wasn’t alone. A few of Bain’s crew stayed out of sight, but I felt them. They were there to protect me. I wasn’t going to argue. I left the house and just walked. All I knew was white walls and floors and the same routine day in and day out, but not here. Not now. Every mile looked different, smelled different. Nothing was predictable; nothing was the same. I strolled along the bayou; I walked through the woods and along the road. I ended in the city, and it was quiet. A very different sight than the one I saw yesterday. The remnants of the night’s activities littered the streets and the sidewalks. Storeowners restocked merchandise, hosed down their sidewalks, delivery trucks brought in new stock, and people carted boxes up and down the steps of cellars. There was a part of me that remembered this place. Not specific memories, but general impressions.
It would be easy to forget about the nightmare I lived, the things I saw. Maybe that was why Dr. Ellis let me go. He believed I would grow distracted with all the sights that I would forget evil was knocking at the door. I wouldn’t. If anything, seeing the beauty evil was threatening to destroy only made me more resolved to do what needed to be done.
I walked down Bourbon Street. Neon signs for bars lined the street; posters were plastered on the walls. At night, it was dazzling, but in the daylight, it was dirty, rundown, and kind of neglected. I reached a crosswalk and a fabulous old building took up one corner. The doors were open. Stepping inside was like taking a step back in time. The walls were covered in photographs.
“Morning,” I said to the old man standing behind the counter wiping down the bar top.
“Morning. Can I get you something?”
“I was hoping to take a look around. It’s a beautiful building.”
“It is. Haunted too,” he said and winked. “Take your time.”
I studied the photographs, famous people I assumed, but it was the entities you couldn’t see that intrigued me. It was haunted. Some of the spirits weren’t ready to go, continuing on even after death. Others were restless, eager to move on but unable to. What kept them? What part of them remained, tethering them to a world they were no longer a part of?
I was on my way out when I passed the old fountain on the bar. The bartender shared the history, but it wasn’t the beauty of the fountain that had me stopping. It was the symbol etched on the bottom of it. The same symbol the sheriff had on his arm.
“Do you know what that is?” I asked.
The man joined me to study it. “Funny. I never noticed that, and with the amount of times I’ve cleaned it, you would think I would have.”
“How long has this building been around?”
“Since 1807, one of the oldest buildings in the city. If you’re into history, check out the St Louis cemetery and the Blacksmith House further down Bourbon.”
“Thanks.”
As I strolled down Bourbon Street, I found myself looking for the symbol, but I didn’t see it on any of the newer buildings; however, the Blacksmith building had it etched into the cornerstone. Was it a coincidence that the buildings that existed when the city was founded were marked with the symbol? What did the symbol mean? A tour group was walking through, the guide reciting the background of the city.
“We’ll spend some time looking around before we head to the most haunted place in New Orleans. That piece of land has been home to some horrendous things the least of which was the massacre of an indigenous tribe. Some don’t believe in evil, but I think that place is evil.”
She gave her group a few minutes to look around. I used the opportunity to ask her about the symbol. “Good mornin
g.”
She turned, a big smile on her face. Someone clearly liked her job. “Good morning.”
“I wondered if you knew what that symbol stood for.”
“Symbol?” She walked to the corner of the building, brushed her fingers over it. “Do you know I have never seen this before? I’ve done this tour every day for ten years, and I never once noticed it.”
Was that a coincidence? I didn’t think so.
“I am curious though. I’ll have to look into it.” She glanced up at me. “If you give me your cell number, I can call you when I figure it out.” She pulled out a small device from her purse.
Cell number? Phone number? “I don’t have a cell number.”
I didn’t miss the look, and based on the number of people I had seen walking around carrying those small electronic devices, I guess I could understand her surprise that I didn’t have one. It seemed everyone did, including the children who were too small to actually carry them.
“A home number?”
“I just moved into town. I’m still getting all of that sorted.”
Her expression turned curious, her hip cocked, and she studied me like she’d never seen my kind before. In fairness, she never had. “You’ve never been to New Orleans, but on your first trip you spot that, something so arbitrary to me, a local, born and bred, has never seen.”
This is where my confinement and lack of social skills really shined because I didn’t know what to say to her. She was definitely intrigued with me. I had just become another puzzle she wanted to solve.
“Babe, sorry I’m late.” Bain appeared, dropping his arm over my shoulders, pulling me up against his side. He kissed me, right on the mouth. I had never been kissed before. It was quick, over almost as soon as it started, but my body wasn’t over it. My heart raced; my blood rushed through my veins; I felt lightheaded, and my own tongue, eager to taste him again, licked my lips. Bain’s reaction to that had my knees going weak. He looked hungry.
“Hello.” A manicured hand appeared in my line of sight. It wasn’t for me. The tour guide was preening. I could feel her arousal, could sense her focus was no longer on me. “I’m Mary Telemann. And you are a cool drink of water.”