Memento Mori: Haunted New Orleans Series

by Rayvn Salvador

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  He made quick work of freeing the life-giving elixir from its vessel, using tools of his unique design, and then taking it into himself while still hot, feeling the rush of life and strength and vitality it offered. It untethered both himself and his intended from the crippling grip of sickness. When he finished, he dropped his head back with a groan, the silky glide of pure mortality escaping to dribble down his chin.

  The darkness within him purred in delight.

  As quickly as possible, he gathered what remained of his sacrifice’s offerings to take with him, ensuring that he staged the scene, said a proper prayer to his unholy patron, and left a coin for Charon to ferry them across the River Styx.

  His donor was now free of their earthly tethers and on the way to Paradise. He wouldn’t leave them stranded on the bank.

  He wasn’t a monster, after all.

  Chapter 13

  Hanlen

  I hadn’t gotten nearly enough done yesterday despite ordering delivery and not even showering or getting out of bed. I’d camped out on the mattress with my tablet and laptop but didn’t even make a dent in what I’d hoped to accomplish. My mind was all over the place. Yes, Dustin was no longer my concern, but I had a ton of other casework to deal with. Things I could do remotely and virtually. That had been my caveat to my mother. That I would come and oversee the show’s happenings and make sure the plantation was looked after, but that I still needed to do my job. Granted, that had all been before Dustin Reynolds’ murder, and even more so before meeting Deveraux Glapion.

  The man consumed my nearly every thought now, and it was utterly disconcerting. And that kiss at Lafitte’s . . . oh my God, that kiss. It didn’t help. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, and it wasn’t something I would likely forget anytime soon. I had been just drunk enough not to care. To throw caution to the wind and tell him what I wanted. And he had delivered spectacularly. I had no idea what it meant or what the rest of this trip or beyond would hold, but I decided I deserved a little happiness in the shitshow of my life. We’d texted several times yesterday, and every time the phone dinged with a new message, I felt a smile overtake my face. It’d been a long time since I’d smiled like that, for no huge reason. And it felt wonderful. But that didn’t help my concentration.

  It also didn’t help that I hadn’t been sleeping worth a damn outside of thoughts of Dev, either. Dreams like the one early in the trip, of the figures in my hotel room, kept replaying, making me a little bit crazy. I knew it was simply a byproduct of what I had been immersed in since arriving back in Louisiana, but it was still annoying. Every time it happened, I woke feeling a strange sense of urgency that I couldn’t place. As if I should know something and do something about it. But I couldn’t pinpoint it.

  Last night’s had been particularly brutal. I’d felt almost attacked, the overall tone of the dream more menacing than usual. But I could glean no meaning from the bits I remembered when I woke, and I couldn’t put my finger on a catalyst for why I was having these night terrors at all. I wondered if it was because I was back in New Orleans and still without any leads regarding Reagan’s murder—despite me doing some digging yesterday. It was as likely an explanation as any. Sadly, I was going through my liquor stash quicker than I’d like because of it.

  I was supposed to meet Dev and some of the crew at Arborwood later today. The other night at the bar had been wonderful. The cast and crew were chock-full of some really great human beings, and I actually looked forward to spending more time with them and getting to know them better.

  I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was nearing noon. I had coffee in my system, but my stomach would be grumbling for food soon, and I needed to get up and get ready to head over to the plantation.

  I wrapped up what I’d been working on, saved the files, closed my laptop, and then got up to finally take a now-much-needed shower.

  Turning the dial on the wall, I waited for the water to heat and stretched my tight and achy body. I knew better than to sit like that while working, but sometimes planting your butt in a nice squishy mattress was exactly what the day called for, carpel tunnel and wry neck be damned.

  When I moved to shuck my nightshirt to hop into the hot spray that I couldn’t wait to get lost in for a few, my heart sank. My necklace. Reagan’s necklace. It was gone.

  I frantically searched the room: in and under the bed, amidst all the bedding, in the bathroom, and near the desk. I threw on some clothes and rushed outside, thoroughly searching the SUV.

  Nothing.

  I couldn’t hold back the tears. That was all I had left of Reagan. I needed it. I wracked my brain, trying to think of where it could be. When had I last seen it? I knew I’d had it on during the cast party—I very rarely took it off—but couldn’t remember seeing it after. Though it was such a part of me that I hardly noticed it was there anymore. Maybe it was at the bar.

  I flew back upstairs and grabbed my cell, Googling the number. They weren’t open yet, but someone should be there. I dialed through and waited, my stomach roiling and threatening to give my whiskey from the night before a grand reappearance.

  “Lafitte’s, Brenda speaking.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. Hi, Brenda. My name is Hanlen Arbor. I was in there the night before last with a group from Haunted New Orleans. Unfortunately, I just realized that I lost some jewelry, and—”

  She laughed, cutting me off. “If I had a dollar for every time I got a phone call like this, I’d be able to afford that penthouse apartment I want. Damn ghosts.”

  Her deviation threw me for a second, but it didn’t matter. I continued. “Do you guys have a lost and found?”

  “We sure do, sugar,” she said. “What kind of piece was it and what does it look like? I’ll check for you right now.”

  “Um . . . it’s kind of hard to explain. It’s a bright gold swirly geometric design pendant on a light-gold beaded chain. A necklace.”

  “Okay, give me a second.”

  I heard her set down the phone and waited with bated breath, the nausea inside me threatening to overtake me with each second that passed. After what felt like an eternity, I heard someone pick up the receiver.

  “I’m holding it right now. It’s safe and sound. The clasp isn’t even broken. This happens so often that our regulars and staff know to snag anything they find because we all know their owners will be in touch soon.”

  The relief I felt nearly floored me, and I couldn’t breathe for a minute, much less speak. I swallowed hard. “Oh, thank goodness. Can you hold it for me somewhere safe?”

  “Of course. Come whenever you can. I’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”

  “Brenda, you just saved me a heart attack. Thank you so much.”

  “My pleasure, sugar. See you later.”

  I disconnected from the call and slumped down on the edge of the bed, the relief making me weak for a minute and bringing tears. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I ever lost that thing. I really should look into getting a safety clasp put on it, but Brenda had said it wasn’t broken, so that wouldn’t have done me any good the other night.

  Crisis averted and feeling the relief of knowing I’d get it back, I went to take that much-needed shower to get settled for my day.

  Finally ready and out of the steamy bathroom, I grabbed my cell to see that I had three missed calls from Bea. That was strange. She rarely called me. I took a seat near the window and accessed my voicemail. There was only one message.

  “Hannie girl,” Bea said, her voice shaky. “I . . . you . . .” And then she broke down in sobs.

  Muffled voices sounded over the line, and then another clear voice came through. “Ms. Arbor, this is Nurse Pritchett. I am so very sorry to tell you this, especially over voicemail, but Mr. Durrand was found dead this morning. Mrs. Durrand is in no shape to handle anything right now. I know you’re not family, but we would be very grateful if you could come over to the house. I’m
going to give Bea something to help her rest and will be waiting at the cottage. Thank you. And . . . I’m so sorry.”

  I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. August was dead? I needed to be there for Bea. Their only child, a daughter, had died two years ago of cancer. The sweet woman didn’t have anybody else.

  I made a tough call to my mother and then I called Dev.

  “Hey,” I said when he answered.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  I swallowed hard. “So, um . . . I have some news. Some bad news. Bea called me when I was in the shower. They found August dead this morning. I need to go and be there with her. She doesn’t have anybody else, and since I’m in town, I should go. I want to go. She was like a second mother to me. August was like my favorite uncle.” I got a little choked up and blew out a breath to keep the tears at bay.

  “Oh, Hanlen. I’m so sorry. I’m going to call the team and cancel things for today.”

  “No,” I insisted. “Don’t do that. I’ll just be at the cottage. We shouldn’t interrupt you guys.”

  “That’s the least of my worries. I want to be there for you. And Bea. The show can wait. We’ll be fine. The network isn’t waiting on this one yet, they have plenty of cached reels to work with. And if they need to, they’ll just do some reruns. We bring in enough money that they’d better not complain. I’d like to come with you. Is that okay?”

  I nearly wept again, but this time from gratitude. How long had it been since I’d had someone who wanted to support me like that? To make sacrifices to make me happy. I couldn’t even remember. Probably Reagan. She had been the absolute best support system a person could ask for. Before bad memories could overtake the good, I answered Dev.

  “I’d love that, actually. I can pick you up in twenty if you’re ready. Though I have to stop at the bar first before we head to Arborwood.”

  “Um . . . dare I ask?”

  I actually chuckled when I realized how that sounded. “I lost my necklace at Lafitte’s the other night. I called this morning and they’re holding it for me. It’s special. I’d like to have it with me. Especially today.”

  “Damn ghosts.” He laughed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be joking. I’ll be ready.”

  “Okay, see you in a few.” I disconnected and raked a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands.

  How was this happening?

  Chapter 14

  Dev

  I met Hanlen in front of my building, not wanting to hold her up. I’d already spoken with Manny and Tristan, and they were taking Myst for a puppy spa day. She would love it and probably wouldn’t even realize I was gone.

  I crawled into the passenger seat and looked over at Hanlen. “How are you holding up?” I asked.

  She blew out a breath and merged into traffic. “I’m still in shock, I think. I can’t believe he’s gone. I know that Bea said he was feeling a little under the weather the other day, but I didn’t think it was bad. She even mentioned that he was supposed to go to the store.”

  “Do you know any details? Not that it matters . . .”

  “No. Bea tried to leave me a message and couldn’t get the words out. Her at-home nurse ended up leaving the voicemail. Nurse Pritchett comes every other week to check on the couple and make sure everything’s good. All she said was that he was found dead.”

  I reached over and put my hand over hers where it rested on the gearshift, lending her a little bit of strength—both metaphorically and magically. I saw her straighten in her seat and then she turned her hand and twined her fingers with mine, squeezing a bit. She didn’t let go, and neither did I.

  When we got to Lafitte’s, she hopped out of the SUV and ran to the front door, knocking on the sidelight. A minute later, the door opened, and Brenda appeared. I watched the ladies exchange some words and then Brenda handed Hanlen a white envelope. Hanlen put her hand to her chest, cradling and hugging the paper-shrouded bundle, and said something more, but Brenda just gripped her other hand and waved her off.

  When Hanlen returned to the driver’s seat, her energy was lighter already. She dropped her head back on the headrest and let out a big breath. “I am so grateful that she found this,” she said, shaking the envelope and making the contents rattle inside. “I don’t know what I would have done without it.” She tore open a corner of the paper and dropped the contents into her palm, the necklace making a golden puddle.

  I moved a little closer to get a better look, and every nerve ending came alive. “Where did you get that?” I asked.

  “It belonged to my best friend. It makes me feel closer to her. Makes me feel protected somehow,” she said and righted the necklace. The golden veve dangled from its beaded chain, the deeper meaning of the geometric sigil representing the lwa hanging in the silence of the SUV’s cab. “I know that sounds crazy, but it’s always been that way.”

  Not crazy at all.

  Did I tell her what she held? Did it matter? I decided to file the information away for later. For a better time.

  I watched as she slipped the chain over her head and touched the pendant to her lips before dropping it under her shirt. I knew what I’d see if I activated my Sight. But to make sure, I did exactly that. I opened myself to see beyond the veil and clearly saw the silvery blue outline around Hanlen’s aura—the protection spell woven into the piece of jewelry she wore. It was strong magic. Familiar Vodou magic. Though I had no idea what it meant. But that was for another time.

  The drive to Arborwood was mostly silent, both of us lost in our own worlds, though for different reasons. When we pulled through the property gates and saw the police cruisers and ambulances and other official vehicles, I turned to Hanlen.

  “That seems a bit excessive for a heart attack.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, driving past the main manor and getting as close to the cottage as she could.

  We got out of the SUV and made our way over. Detective Stephanie Miller saw us and headed our way, stopping us before we got too close.

  “What are you two doing here?” she asked, a bit of suspicion in her tone.

  Hanlen made a circle with her finger, indicating everything around us. “This is my property. Bea called me this morning, and Nurse Pritchett asked me to come. I was supposed to meet Dev for some show stuff—this is their next location—and he asked to come along. He and Bea met the other day and hit it off. I thought he might be comforting to her.”

  “Wow, small world,” Stephanie said. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Arbor. After the other night and now this . . . unfortunately, we are going to need to speak with you both again.”

  I saw the confusion crease Hanlen’s face. “Why? I just told you my relationship and why I’m here. Not to mention, I’m not even sure why you’re here,” she said.

  Stephanie appeared perplexed for a minute. “Because it’s strange that two people you’re associated with have now wound up dead,” said another stern, male voice. I looked over to see a detective I wasn’t familiar with. I thought his name was Walker or something.

  “Watkins. Not now,” Stephanie said and turned back to Hanlen. “Are you aware of the circumstances surrounding Mr. Durrand’s death?”

  Hanlen shook her head. “No, neither Bea nor the nurse said on the voicemail. I just assumed it was a sudden heart attack or something.”

  When I saw the look cross Stephanie’s face, I knew the words that were about to come out of her mouth next.

  “Ms. Arbor, Mr. Durrand was murdered. His wife thinks maybe someone followed him home from the grocery store and took him by surprise. And it seems his life was taken by the same person who killed Mr. Reynolds.”

  I caught Hanlen before her knees buckled.

  A couple of hours later, after we’d made sure that Bea was okay and resting comfortably under Nurse Pritchett’s able care, Hanlen and I found ourselves back at the NOPD headquarters, giving statements and answering questions once again. This time, they let us stay in the same room, though I was informed that I shou
ld only answer when addressed directly. It was difficult. Detective Watkins seemed to enjoy playing the bad cop. I didn’t like the guy and I desperately wanted to tell him off.

  For someone who generally stayed pretty even-keeled and didn’t like violence, my urge to give him a bloody lip was almost overwhelming. Some people just had that effect. It was an energy thing. Everything was made of spirit. And every person’s aura emitted a certain kind of energy that could be felt by sensitives. It wasn’t always easy to decipher because some personality traits felt similar to others and were hard to differentiate, but on the spectrum of good and bad, bad always felt . . . oily. The degree differed, of course, and it sometimes came through for things that weren’t quite so serious like chronic liars and the like. But we could always tell a bad egg, unless they specifically hid it or really and truly believed that they weren’t bad.

  The day felt endless already. I had too much bad coffee swimming in my gut, and too many emotions roiling my insides. First the veve that Hanlen had, and then the murder. Now, watching this. They couldn’t honestly believe that Hanlen had anything to do with these crimes. Could they? This was the work of a serial killer, and Hanlen had been nowhere near the state for the first several confirmed cases. Even the one the killer claimed outright with their note—my sister. But I understood their confusion, too. The last two discovered victims had been in Hanlen’s orbit. It was strange, and I hoped we got to the bottom of it soon.

  When they finally told us that we could go as they looked into a few things, including verification of Hanlen’s whereabouts during the times of the first few murders they could attribute to R℈DRΩM, I simply held out my hand.

  Without words, Hanlen fished her keys out of her purse and dropped them into my palm, and I took us safely back to The Ravisan. I helped her up the stairs and fixed her a drink, setting it in front of her.