by Cate Tiernan
I looked back at him, feeling utterly, utterly lost. "Good," I managed, my throat dry.
An instant of surprise crossed his beautiful, sculpted face, and then he actually laughed. He took my hand in both of his. Little sparks of electricity made me tingle all over, and then he turned my hand palm up. He looked at it and slowly traced a finger down the lines in my palm, as if reading my fortune. Then he took out a pen and wrote a phone number on my skin.
"Unfortunately, I'm already late," he said in a voice that was so intimate, so personal, it was as if we were the only two people in Botanika. He stood up-he was tall-and put some money on the table for a tip. "But that's my number, and I'm telling you: if you don't call me, I'll come find you."
"We'll see, wont we?" I said coolly, though inside I was doing an ecstatic victory dance. Something in his eyes flared, making me take a shallow breath, and then it was gone, leaving me to wonder if I had imagined it.
"Yes.’' he said, sounding deceptively mild. "We will." Turning, he walked with long, easy strides to the door and pushed it open. I watched him pass the plate glass window and had to struggle with myself not to jump up, run after him, and tackle him right there.
Racey slid into the seat opposite mine. "Well," she said. "What was he like? Did he seem okay?"
I let out a deep breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "More than okay." I uncurled my fingers, showing Racey his number written on my palm.
Racey looked at me, unusually solemn.
"What?" I asked her. "I've never seen you like this"
"Yeah," she said, and looked away. "I don't know what it is. Usually, you know, we see a guy, and bam, we know what the deal is, how to handle him-no surprises, you know? They're all kind of the same. But this one-I don't know.' she said again. "I mean, I just got a funny feeling from him."
"You and me both," I said sincerely, looking at his phone number in my palm.
"It was like I instantly knew he was… really different," Racey persisted.
I looked at her, interested. She was one of the strongest witches our age in the coven, and besides that, she was my best friend. I totally trusted her.
"Different bad?" I asked. "I didn't see that. He totally knocked me off my feet, but it all felt good… Besides the scary stuff, I meant.
Racey shrugged, as if shaking off bad feelings, "I don't know what I'm doing," she said. "Don't listen to me. He is really hot. And I didn't even talk to him," Then she looked at me again. Just… be careful."
"Yeah, of course," I said, having no idea what that meant. We got up, and I paid for my new halter, which I planned to wear the next time I saw Andre.
Thais
Okay, one good thing- beignets-weighed against the katrillion bad things. Mostly, one incredibly bad thing-not having Dad, who had been there every day of my life, let me win at Monopoly, taught me to drive. He'd held me when I cried, and my eyes filled up now just thinking about it. He'd been quietly funny, gentle, maybe a little bit distant, but I'd always known he'd loved me. And I hoped he'd known how much I loved him.
I swallowed hard and moved on to all the other horrible things: Axelle, the rest of New Orleans, my entire life, Axelles creepy friends, being an orphan, my life, the heat, the bugs, the ridiculous humidity that felt like a damp fist punching your head when you stepped out-side, my life, missing my dad, missing Welsford, missing Mrs. Thompkins, Axelle, not having a car, being seven-teen and starting a new school for senior year, oh yeah, my lift, the noise, the crowds, the clogging throngs of tourists everywhere, drunk and sun-baked by two in the afternoon because New Orleans is the devil's playground, Axelle, oh, and did I mention going crazy missing my dad?
But the beignets and coffee were unbelievable. Nothing like light, airy, puffs of dough deep-fried in lard and coated with powdered sugar to pick a girl up. And the coffee-oh God. I'd always hated coffee- didn't even like the smell when Dad made it. But the coffee here was boiled with milk and it was fabulous. I came to Cafe du Monde every day for my caffeine-'n'-cholesterol fix. Another couple of weeks and I would be permanently hyped up and weigh two hundred pounds. The sad thing was, that wouldn't even make my life any worse. I was already at rock bottom. And now I was crying again, dripping tears onto the powdered sugar, as I did almost every time I came here. I pulled more napkins out of the dispenser and wiped my eyes.
I had no idea how this had happened to me. A month ago I was totally normal in every way, living a totally normal life with my totally normal dad. Now, barely four weeks later, I was living with a strange woman (I mean literally strange, as in bizarre, not just unknown) who had zero idea of what guardianship was all about. She'd told me that she and my dad had had a deep and meaningful friendship but had sometimes lost touch with each other through the years. I was way, way thankful that apparently they'd never actually dated.
Still, Dad must have been out of his gourd to think for even one second that my living with Axelle would be anything close to a good idea. I'd lost track of how many times a day I prayed for this to be a nightmare so I could wake up.
I got up and walked across the street, through Jackson Square. Axelle lived in the French Quarter, the oldest part of New Orleans. I had to admit, it was pretty. The buildings looked European, not southern or colonial, and there was an old-fashioned grace and time-lessness to the place that even I in my misery could appreciate. On the other hand, it was incredibly dirty almost everywhere, and some streets were touristy in a horrible, seedy kind of way. Like all the strip joints on Bourbon Street. Yep, just blocks of strip joints and bars, all being peered into by anyone passing by, even if the person passing by was a child.
But there were other streets, not touristy, quiet and serene in a timeless way. Even Welsford was founded only in about 1860. New Orleans had had some sort of settlement here for about 150 years before that. Through hours and hours of walking aimlessly, I had realized that there was a whole separate Quarter that most people never see: the private gardens, hidden courtyards, pockets of lush green almost pulsing with life.
Yet even in the midst of ageless beauty, there was an undercurrent of what? Danger? Not as strong as danger. Not as strong as dread. But like, when I walked under a balcony, I expected a safe to fall on my head. If the same person walked behind me for more than a block, I got nervous. There was a lot of crime here, but my nervousness wasn't even that based in reality. It was more like,… I expected the sun to never shine again in my life. Or like I had driven into a train tunnel, and there was no end in sight, and a train was coming at me. It was weird, but maybe it was natural to feel that way after everything I had been through.
I turned left and cut down a narrow, one-block-long little street, I waded through a busload of tourists on a walking tour and turned another corner. Two blocks down this street was where I was sentenced to live, at least for the next few months,
Axelles apartment had once been part of an incredible private home; There was a side gate made of wrought iron, which I unlocked. It led to a narrow, covered driveway, wide enough for carriages, not cars. My feet made faint echoing noises on the cool flagstones, worn from hundreds of years of use. The front door was in the back of the house. Four buildings bordered a private courtyard, which had a weensy swimming pool and lushly overgrown plant beds around the walls.
Sighing, feeling like an anvil was on my chest, I turned my key in the lock. With any luck Axelle wouldn't be here-she'd already be out for the evening, and I wouldn't have to go, Last night she'd brought me to three different bars, despite my reminding her that not only was I not twenty-one, but I wasn't even eighteen yet. At all three places, the bouncer or doorman had looked at me, opened his mouth as if to card me, which I was hoping for, because then I could go home and go to bed-but then they'd just shut their mouths and let me pass. I guessed Axelle knew them, and they'd let her do whatever.
I pushed open the door, to be met by a blessed whoosh of air-conditioning, and found I was out of luck. Axelle lounged on her black leather sofa, her clothe
s making slight sibilant noises when she shifted. She was smoking and talking on the phone and barely looked up at me when I came in.
To add to my fun, her creepy friends Jules and Daedalus were there too. I'd met them practically the moment we got off the plane in New Orleans. Neither of them was her boyfriend, but they were around a lot. Jules was good-looking in a Denzel Washington kind of way, poised and put together, and seemed about Axelles age, early thirties. Daedalus was old enough to be her father, like in his mid-fifties. He reminded me of a used car salesman, always smiling but the smile never reaching his eyes.
"Ah! Thais," said Daedalus, looking up from a thick book. Jules also looked up and smiled, then continued examining a map on the small round dining table at one end of the huge main room. At the other end were a fireplace and sitting area. The tiny kitchen was open to the big room, separated by a black granite counter. Axelles bedroom and huge, pathologically crowded and messy closet were down a short hallway. My tiny bedroom, which was essentially a former lean-to tacked onto the main house as an outdoor kitchen, opened off the back of the kitchen.
"Hi" I said, heading for privacy.
"Wait, Thais," Jules said. He had a beautiful deep voice. “I’d like you to meet our friend Richard Landry.” He gestured toward the main room, and someone I hadn't noticed stepped through the haze of Axelles cigarette smoke.
"Hey," he said.
I blinked. At first glance he appeared to be my age, but in the next second I realized he was actually younger-maybe fourteen? He was a bit taller than me and had warm brown hair, streaked from the sun, and brown eyes. I couldn't help standing still for a moment to take him in: he was the only fourteen-year-old I'd ever seen with a silver stud through his eyebrow, a silver ring through one nostril, and tattoos. He was wearing a black T-shirt with the sleeves torn off and long black jeans despite the heat.
I realised I was staring and tried to recover. "Hi, Richard," I said, pronouncing it the way Jules had: Ree-shard. He just nodded, looking at me in a weirdly adult way, like: appraising. 'Yes, he won the weirdest-kid-l’ll-ever-met award. And why on earth was he hanging out with these people? Maybe his parents were friends of theirs?
Axelle hung up the phone and got to her feet. Today, in deference to the ninety-eight-degree weather, she was wearing a black, satiny cat suit. "Oh, good, you met Richard," she said. "Well, you all ready?"
Jules, Daedalus, and Richard nodded, and Richard put down his glass.
"We won't be long.' said Axelle, unlocking a door that I hadn't even seen the first four days I was here. It was built into the deep molding of the main room, a hidden door, I'd almost jumped out of my skin one day when I'd thought I was alone and then suddenly Daedalus had appeared out of the wall. Now that I knew it was there, I could easily see its outlines and the round brass lock. It led to stairs, I knew that much, but I wasn't allowed in-it was always locked when Axelle wasn't home.
I watched silently as the three guys followed Axelle.
I was convinced they did drugs up there. And now they were dragging a kid into their web. True, a strange, hard-core kid, but still. The door clicked shut with a heavy finality, and I prowled restlessly around the main room, wondering if I should do something. Okay, for the three weird adults, that was one thing. They might be complete dope fiends, but they'd never hit me or come on to me or anything. But now they were corrupting a kid-if there was anything left in Richard to corrupt. That was definitely wrong.
Unsure what to do with my concern, I wandered around, picking up used glasses and loading them into the dishwasher, Axelle was the world's biggest slob, and I'd started tidying up out of self-defense, just so I'd have clean plates to eat off of, etc.
"Mreow?" Minou, Axelles cat, jumped up on the kitchen counter, I scratched him absently behind the ears and then refilled his food bowl. Like the hidden door, Minou had shown up several days after I got here, but Axelle knew him and actually had cat food, so I figured he was hers. Guess what color he was,
I gathered a stack of newspapers, and the weird domesticness of the situation suddenly hit me, I blinked back tears, remembering how I'd done the same kind of stuff at home, with Dad, and how I'd grumbled about it and made him remind me five times and stuff. Now, what I wouldn't pve to be at home with Dad nagging me! I would be the perfect daughter if I could only have another chance, I gulped, thinking maybe it was time to go cry on my bed for a while.
"Excuse me,"
I whirled, sniffing and brushing my hand across my eyes, I hadn't heard Richard come up behind me, I closed the dishwasher door, "What?" I said, feeling unnerved.
Axelle sent me down for matches," he explained in a husky, un-kid-like voice, stepping past me into the narrow kitchen. He was slender but wiry, with defined muscles. He was wearing black motorcycle boots,
"Don't you-f I began, and he glanced up at me. I could see that even though he was young, he would probably be really good-looking when he grew up. If he lost the face jewelry. "Don't you think you're a little young for that?" I waved my hand toward the hidden stairway. Richard looked at me, expressionless. "I mean-do your folks know where you are? Don't you worry about getting in trouble or having it lead to bigger stuff that could actually really be dangerous?"
Richard picked up the box of matches. Tm an orphan, honey," he said, with a funny little smile. 'And its not what you think, upstairs. You'll find out''
Uh'oh. That didn't sound good. "I mean, it's not too late to quit," I said, feeling more and more unsure.
He did smile then, showing a hint of the man he would become in a couple of years. "It's way too late to quit," he said, and gave a little laugh, like there was a private joke somewhere. He left me and went back through the door, and feeling completely weirded out, I glanced absently at the stack of newspapers.
Time to register for school those attending Orleans Parish public schools, I read. I had to move Minous tail to finish the headline. School started on August 26, barely three weeks away. It listed a web site where you could register online.
"Oh, Thais," said Axelle, coming into the kitchen. She rummaged in the cupboards and pulled out a box of salt. "Listen, don't go anywhere-we'll be done in a while and then were going out to dinner."
I nodded. We always went out to dinner. "Um, I have to register for school''
Axelle looked at me blankly.
I tapped the paper. "It says it's time to register if you're going to public school. Which I assume I am"
She seemed to recover and said, "Well, you don't have to go if you don't want. You've probably gone enough, right?"
Now I stared at her, her beautiful face that never seemed to show lack of sleep or hangovers or anything else, the black eyes that had no pupils. "I haven't graduated high school.' I said slowly, as if I were explaining something to a child,'! have one more year."
"Well, what's one year?" she asked, shrugging. "I bet you know everything you need to know. Why don't you just hang out, relax?"
My mouth dropped open. "If I don't graduate high school, I won't be able to go to college."
"You mean you'd sign up for four more years?" She looked appalled.
"How am I going to get a job? Or did I not need one, here on Planet Unreality?
Now she looked downright shocked, "Job?.
Okay. I was getting nowhere. I could see that. Thanks, Dad, I thought, tasting bitterness in the back of my throat. You sure can pick 'em. I took a deep breath and let it out.'Til take care of it," I said calmly. "I'm going to school, and I'll register myself. I'll let you know what happens."
Axelle looked like she was trying to think up a good argument but couldn't come up with anything. "Well, if that's what you want to do," she said reluctantly.
"Yes," I said firmly. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay" She sighed heavily, as if she couldn't believe Michel Allard's child could be so incredibly unreasonable. I picked up the newspaper and headed back into my room, where I carefully shut the door. Then I lay down on my bed, put a pillow o
ver my face, and howled.
So Much has Changed
“C’est impossible," Daedalus muttered in disgust He banged his fist down on the hood of the can "C'est impossible!"
"Heyl" said Axelle. "La voiture, c'est ci moiT She carefully examined the hood of her pink Cadillac.
Daedalus folded his arms across his chest and joined Richard and Jules, who were leaning against the side of Axelles car, staring across the street, Axelle lit a cigarette.
Jules made a face.'Must you smoke even here?"
"Yes," Axelle said evenly, 'Are you going to lecture me about the health disadvantages?"
Richard chuckled, and Jules looked away.
"It's unpleasant is all," he said.
"Then stand downwind," said Axelle.
"Stop it, you two," said Daedalus. "We can't start arguing among ourselves. Now, more than ever, we have to stand together."
"Has Sophie come yet?' Axelle asked.
"I think she and Manon are coming tomorrow," said Daedalus. He let out a breath and looked across the street, still unbelieving. "This is the place?" he asked for the fifth time.
"It's the place," Jules said dispiritedly. "It has to be."
The four of them stood in a line against the car. Across the street, where they had expected to find thick woods and swamps as far as the eye could see, there was instead a huge Wal-Mart Supercenter. And a huge parking lot. And other stores in a line next to it.
"Whens the last time anyone was here?" Daedalus asked.
They thought, shrugged.
"Long time," Axelle said at last. "Obviouslv."
"Hang on." Richard leaned into the open window of the car and pulled out their old map. He took the recent map from Daedalus and spread them both out on the hood of the car. "Okay, here's New Orleans," he said, pointing to the city within the crescent bend of the river. "And this is about where we are." He traced a slender finger down a blue highway line, south-southwest of New Orleans.