Memento Mori: Haunted New Orleans Series

by Rayvn Salvador

  When I finally cracked my lids, searing pain ricocheted through my skull, bringing a surge of bile and Evan Williams apple to my throat. I went to reach for my mouth and realized that I was restrained. I tried to calm my heart rate, steady my breathing, but panic was steadily creeping in, becoming its own monster ready to overtake me.

  When I steadied enough that I knew I wouldn’t throw up all over myself and possibly die from drowning in my own vomit, I slowly turned my head to see someone standing in front of a raised platform, their back to me. I couldn’t make out features or details in the dim light and through my blurry vision, but I got the sense that it was someone large—at least much larger than me.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked, with more confidence than I felt.

  “Ah, you’re awake. Wonderful,” they said. It was a he. Or at least it sounded like a male. I probably shouldn’t make assumptions. I mean, it was the least of my concerns. But they still didn’t turn around to face me, just kept doing whatever it was they were doing.

  I felt a shiver rush down my body and a feeling of dread took up root in my belly. This wasn’t good. And I wasn’t even sure if anybody had examined the crypts yet. Would they even think to look for me here whenever they realized I was missing?

  “I’m sorry I had to hit you so hard, but we were running out of time for me to get you out of there safely.”

  “Sure, yeah, you’re forgiven. Now, just let me go. We can forget it ever happened.”

  “But that’s not how this works, cher. You’ve been destined for me, for us, for a very long time. I was sure of that the first time I saw you. Call it . . . intuition. Honestly, it’s past time we established that.”

  What the fuck is this person talking about?

  “Uh, do I know you?”

  “Mmm, kinda.”

  That voice. I knew that voice. Why did I know that voice? From where? I tried to shuffle through my memories but all it did was cause my head to hurt worse and nausea to roll through me.

  “You know,” he said conversationally, as if we were sitting down for coffee, “that night all those years ago has never left my thoughts. You in that sexy black-and-red number, your crimson-streaked hair shining in the strobes, your body moving to the music.”

  My blood turned to ice. I remembered that outfit. The way my hair had been back then. A decade ago. The night Reagan had been killed.

  Oh. My. God.

  “I knew I wanted you even back then, cher. We wanted to assimilate. Show you the way. But then you took off, and I was left with your friend. Now, don’t get me wrong, she was sweet. Her blood like sour candy on the tongue, but she wasn’t who I wanted. Not really. However, she was my first, so she will always be special. I didn’t actually mean to take her life. I only wanted to share in it with her. But things went too far. I feel guilt that I didn’t have a coin to give her like I do my sacrifices now. Especially since she basically started this little adventure for me. She deserved better.” He continued messing with something on the raised platform. I saw what looked like tubes and a flash of metal.

  Holy motherfucking shit. This was the serial killer. This was R℈DRΩM. And he was the asshole who had taken Ray from me, who had stolen August from Bea, who had killed my mark. This was the depraved son of a bitch who’d cut Dev’s twin’s life short, thus stealing Findley’s, as well. This was the psychopath who’d viciously murdered Burke and who knew how many others.

  I wanted to kill him with my bare hands.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked, my entire body shaking. “How can you be so . . . evil?”

  “Oh, come now, cher. All those my shadow-self becomes obsessed with play an important role in the circle of life. They are all important—in this life and the next. But I know now that all of them were to lead me to you. It’s divine guidance. And the fact that everything ties back to you in some way is very telling, don’t you think? I didn’t realize it until recently. But when I had the epiphany, I knew. I just knew. This was all meant to be.”

  He turned to me then, and the light of the lantern on the corner of the slab hit his face. The electricity and ice-water rush of adrenaline flashed through my veins so fast it locked my breath in my lungs.

  Holy hell.

  It was . . .

  He sketched a bow.

  Fucking Remy Dee Reaume.

  The R℈DRΩM made so much more sense now.

  Heeeere’s Remy.

  Son of a bitch.

  Chapter 25

  Dev

  “That’s a wrap, guys,” I said into the walkie. Everybody chimed in that they understood and went about their tasks for the end of the night, making sure that everything was ready for tomorrow. We’d had a great investigation. Lark, Hanlen, and I had contacted The Colonel, Dakota had gotten indisputable evidence that our lady in the broomstick skirt and the head scarves was indeed Chloe Aillet, and without much trying, Padre and Sky had recorded additional EVP evidence of our woman in white, Myrtle Arbor. We’d had no interaction with the child ghost—I didn’t think there was actually one here, honestly.

  We had some additional research to do and a ton of video evidence to review—things we’d caught on the SLS camera when it picked up and mapped anomalies, making anything that we couldn’t see with the naked eye appear as a stick figure on the recording, and some variances in the thermal camera footage, not to mention our static night-vision cameras—but all in all, it had been a great night.

  I saw Lark walk into the room, wrapping a cable around her hand and elbow to loop it. “Good one tonight, huh?” she asked.

  “It absolutely was. So, I have a question.”

  “Shoot,” she said and set her equipment in the box before turning to me.

  “You’ve spoken with Gunnie before and know who she is, but do you know what she looks like?”

  “Mmm, you know what? I don’t think I do. I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten a psychic picture of her when she’s reached out.”

  “The woman you saw earlier during our spirit box session? That was my cousin.”

  “The hottie with the purple braids?”

  I smiled. “That would be her.”

  “Wow. So why was the soldier talking about her? Or wasn’t he? You pulled me out and were deep in conversation with Hanlen before I could ask how the whole spirit box session went and see whether anything made sense with the communication.”

  “As you’re aware, she’s been having some trouble reaching out. We’re not sure why. You couldn’t hear her as clearly as you had before—or as you do with others—and she hasn’t come to me at all lately. And while I saw her tonight, she couldn’t talk to me. She indicated that it all started when Hanlen came to town.”

  “Hanlen?” Lark asked. “Why would that be?”

  I sighed and cracked my neck. “I wish I knew. But do you remember the other night at Lafitte’s when Hanlen briefly mentioned the best friend she’d lost and said that’s why she left the city a decade ago?”

  “Now that you mention it, actually, yeah, I do. Her sorrow was palpable.”

  “Well, that best friend . . . it was my cousin. Gunnie to me, Reagan—or rather, Ray—to Hanlen. Seems we have yet another connection.”

  “Wow, that’s wild,” Lark said and took a seat on the nearest chair. “Did you tell Hanlen that she was here tonight?”

  “Yeah, I did.” I took a seat on the couch opposite her. “She was upset, as expected. It’s like ripping open an old wound without anesthetic. But she said she would be okay. And it sort of forced her to believe, you know? So maybe that’s a good thing. I dunno. I’m hopeful that maybe she’ll let me do the spell that will allow her to see and talk to Gunnie temporarily. But . . .” I said and trailed off.

  “But what?” Lark asked.

  “I think we need to try and speak to her first. Gunnie, I mean. Hanlen gave me her necklace to use as a trigger object. I figured she’d be fine with the protections you and I put on the place. The veve used to be my cousin’s
, and it’s full of magic—both residual and departed soul magick. I was wondering if you’d be willing to add your power to mine to see if we can break through whatever is going on. I have a feeling it might be backfired intention. That the protective magic on the necklace is protecting Hanlen—and in a way, me—from something it perceives as danger.”

  Lark reached out and put her hand over mine where it rested on my knee. “Of course, Dev. Absolutely. Let’s do it.”

  We set our intentions and settled in, facing each other over a lit candle. I held the veve, while Lark grasped the chain, and we called upon my cousin.

  She flickered into existence in the corner. I looked up at her and smiled, and she returned the expression.

  “Hey, Gun,” I said. “Think you can try talking to us again with Lark here?” Her lips moved but I still didn’t hear anything. When I looked at Lark, I saw her concentrating, her eyes closed.

  “She . . .” Lark started. “She’s here.”

  “Yeah, she is. She’s standing right over your shoulder, but I still can’t hear her.”

  “I can,” Lark said, “but it’s still kind of muffled. A little better, but definitely not super clear. Um . . . she said . . . she said she thinks we need to do an illumination spell. Something about the protection ward on the veve having backfired a bit, just like you said.”

  I nodded. It really did make a weird kind of sense. If the magic was meant to protect, and it saw something as a potential threat, it would repel it. And Hanlen being faced with her dead best friend after so many years of anguish would definitely cause harm. Or, at the very least, plenty of hurt. Enough to warrant activation of the protective magics. And given my connection to Hanlen, it also made a strange sort of sense why I had been included in that.

  “Okay. That’s easy enough. Wrap your hand around mine.” Lark did as instructed. “Now, just concentrate on my words and add your intention.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as if centering herself, and I did the same. I said the words for the spell and was just about to tell Gunnie to try to communicate again, when Wren and Findley popped into the room, looking frantic and terrified.

  “Dev, get to the cemetery.”

  “The cemetery? What do you mean?”

  “No questions. Now, get there now, brother.”

  “Noooooo.” I heard that. Gunnie’s wail. And just as quickly as the sound registered, she disappeared.

  “What the fuck?” Lark said.

  I couldn’t agree more.

  “Dev, man. We gotta move,” Findley urged. “Cemetery.”

  “We haven’t even been out there yet. Why would I need to go out there?”

  “Less talk, more action,” Wren said, flapping her hands. “We’ll meet you there.”

  And then the couple disappeared. I took the chain from Lark and stuffed both it and the pendant into my pocket.

  “What the hell’s going on, Dev? Was that your cousin? That shriek?”

  “Yeah, it was. I even heard it. Seems our spell worked. My sister was here with Findley, too. They said I have to get to the cemetery immediately.”

  “I didn’t hear them,” Lark said.

  “I don’t know what’s going on. Can you gather up the troops and let them know what happened? I gotta get over there and see what’s up.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Of course,” Lark said. “We’ll meet you there. Go.”

  I exited the house as fast as I could and tore across the property, headed for the cemetery I’d seen the first day when Hanlen had given me a tour. It was so old that I knew there were spirits there, and we’d decided not to investigate it unless it tied to something we uncovered at the house or the carriage house. We hadn’t even included it in the circle when we set up, especially after everything that happened with August and the fact that it was butted up against that crime scene. Why in the world would I need to go out there? And why were Wren and Findley so upset? Not to mention, why had Gunnie sounded so anguished?

  When I rounded the bend, I saw Wren, Findley, Desmond, and Gunnie standing around the cemetery’s biggest mausoleum, thought to hold the remains of the family’s matriarch and patriarch, the first of the line who started Arborwood. They were a bit away from the structure, their hands raised, and I wondered why.

  The frantic look on my sister’s face when she turned to me was enough to make my stomach drop, and I still had no idea what exactly was going on.

  I approached cautiously. “What’s this all about, guys?” The rest of them turned to me, as well. When I saw the spectral tears coursing down Gunnie’s face, I knew something bad was going on and was afraid to find out what. My instincts were screaming but I couldn’t get a lock on the feelings or impressions.

  “It’s Hanlen, Dev. He’s got Hanlen,” Findley said, seeming to be the only one who could get a handle on themselves enough to reply.

  My stomach bottomed out, and I felt a rush of fear swamp me, stealing my breath and making the ground under me sway for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

  Desmond pointed at the structure. “She’s in there. He has her tied to a vault. And we can’t get in. Can’t even get close. None of us can. Something is stopping us from entering. We tried. I’m not sure what we could have done, but . . .”

  “You need to help her, Dev. Please,” Gunnie pleaded, and I started at the sound of her voice. When I looked at her, the look on her face about sent me to my knees again. I had no idea who this he was that they were talking about, but it didn’t matter. If Hanlen was in trouble, I would move Heaven and Earth to get her to safety.

  I surged forward and to the side of the structure, hurrying to the little window. Whatever was keeping the ghosts from getting close didn’t seem to affect me, at least not entirely. Though I did feel something. I needed to get a better picture of what was going on before I barged in, metaphorical guns-blazing, so I peeked inside but couldn’t see much around the angel statue situated right in front of the opening. I did see candlelight, long shadows dancing across the stone, stretching like skeletal fingers. I stopped to listen for a minute but heard only scuffling coming from inside. I wished that one of them would talk so I would know that Hanlen was still okay and could maybe get a better feel for who was in there with her and what I needed to do next. I pounded on the invisible barrier, my stomach in knots, and then yelled to the others.

  “Who has her? What the hell is going on? I can’t see anything.”

  Wren burst into tears. “It’s R℈DRΩM. Oh, sweet lwas. We heard him talking earlier. It’s the asshole who killed me and August. Burke. The others. He also admitted to killing Reagan.” She stopped for a minute, sobs wracking her body as she looked over at our cousin. “Said she was his first but that he really wanted Hanlen. Saints, Dev. We . . .” She hiccuped. “We can’t let him take Hanlen, too.”

  Holy fuck.

  I threw my shoulder into the invisible barrier, again and again, trying to get inside yet attempting to think of the best way to handle this. I didn’t know if he was armed. I assumed he would be, but with what? And how efficient would he be with it? Was he only good when his prey was unaware and helpless? Or did he know how to fight? How big was he? How old? There were so many unanswered questions, and I didn’t want to put Hanlen in more danger than she already was. The ghosts couldn’t scout for me to get the lay of the land before I rushed in, and I couldn’t get a good enough visual inside to see what was going on. Not to mention, I didn’t know what else might be set up to keep me out. There was something but I couldn’t pin it down.

  Just as I was considering trying the other side of the structure in hopes there might be another window slit, a scream rent the air, sending every hair on my body to attention, and filling my veins with fizz. I rushed towards the front and forward, ready to barge in somehow, personal safety be damned, only to hit a stronger invisible wall and be thrown back several feet, coming to land on my back, the ground knocking the wind from my lungs.

  “Ooomph.” I lay there fo
r a moment, trying to catch my breath and regain my senses, my instincts screaming at me.

  Most definitely something else in place here.

  What the fucking hell just happened? How?

  I looked up to see a huddle of people surrounding me, all with concerned and terrified looks on their faces, though none of them able to assist. They couldn’t touch me. They couldn’t help.

  I sat up and blew out a breath, shaking my head slightly and taking stock of my body. Nothing broken. But I didn’t feel all that great, and it had really slowed me down. Whatever that shield was packed a wallop. The strangest thing? It felt almost familiar. Like my magic, yet . . . not. Bastardized somehow. How was that even possible?

  I finally jumped to my feet and looked at those surrounding me. “Do you guys feel that?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Wren said. “When we first got here and weren’t able to even get close, it was really confusing because it kind of reminded me of you. At first, I thought I maybe misunderstood my calling to come here, and that you were with Hanlen in there. But when Gunnie popped up, screaming, I knew that wasn’t the case. And then we heard him.”

  “He went on and on about how she was supposed to be his. How she would belong to him,” Findley added.

  “I have to get in there,” I said to no one in particular, tugging at my hair. Lark was supposed to be bringing some help. But I wasn’t sure I could wait. Another scream ripped through the still night air and tore a hole in my heart. Fucking hell.

  I ran closer again, throwing magic at whatever was keeping me from Hanlen, urgency yet caution riding me and making me a bit woozy. Then I stopped, standing with arms outstretched to search for the source of the magic. There had to be some sort of . . . something to power it. Even I couldn’t work a spell like this without a charm or some kind of correspondence. I frantically looked and felt everywhere—on the ground, on the façade, in the trees. I didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean much. It was dark as shit out here and all I had was my mini flashlight.