James and Aaron were around here somewhere, but I hadn’t seen them in a bit. I had a feeling they might be out back, partaking in some herbaceous party favors. James had a bad back and mentioned that he always had a good medicinal stash. And after securing Remy in the mausoleum, he was kind of milking it by convincing Dev to let him partake on the job.
I took in the space again, noting the people in my life now, my friends who felt more like family. And then I slewed my gaze over to the corner near the topiaries, taking in the other group gathered there.
A beautiful woman in a white, off-the-shoulder dress—Wren—embracing a handsome man with piercing dark eyes—Findley. A soldier in full historical garb, chatting with a good-looking guy who looked as if he should be a surfer if not for the wire-rimmed glasses. Burke smiled at something Desmond said, and it made my heart happy to see that death hadn’t ruined everything. These people still had each other. They had us, though in a different capacity. They still had an existence they enjoyed.
Dev had been worried that his sister and her guy may leave now that the identity of her murderer had been uncovered, but they’d told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t getting rid of them that easily. They enjoyed being his investigators, just as Desmond loved being Dev’s runner, jettisoning all over to talk to other ghosts and relay information. And Burke was grateful that he could continue his research for the show. I could see it. It gave them purpose. Made them feel connected. And the fact that they were free labor didn’t hurt.
My gaze moved to the other side of Wren, to the woman who stopped talking to Findley and looked my way. I smiled and waved. I would give just about anything to give Ray a huge hug, but just having her in my life again was a gift I never expected to receive. The fact that I could now see ghosts was still really freaking strange, but it also made me ridiculously happy. Dev had even worked a spell on my necklace that let me hear them if they wanted me to. Ray and I had had a really long conversation, and I’d gotten to say all the things to her that I hadn’t gotten to say before Remy ripped us apart. There was closure in that, and now was a new chapter.
I looked across the gathered crowd of both living and dearly departed and gave myself a little internal shake. This was my life now. How strange and utterly wonderful. I felt strong arms wrap around me from behind and smelled Dev’s amazing oak moss scent before he leaned down and breathed in my ear. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said and kissed my neck, making goose bumps erupt on my skin.
“I was just taking in our strange family out there and thinking how great it is.”
“It is pretty great, isn’t it?” he agreed. “So, are you ready to see yourself on TV?”
I groaned. “I don’t know. But I am curious to see how it all came together.”
“I can’t wait for everybody to see it. I may be biased, but this is one of my favorite finished products. It’s so good, Hanlen. And the evidence is super compelling. The network thinks that this episode may open the way for more viewership. It’s very . . . personal, and it shows in how it all came together.” He turned me and kissed me, and I melted into him. “Thank you for that. For everything.”
“I should be thanking you,” I said. “You rid me of my ghosts, as ironic as that statement is.”
He laughed. “And you, mine—except for those we want to keep around,” he added and looked over at our laughing group of dearly departed.
“You know,” he added, “those in my religion have a belief. Well, we have many,”—he chuckled—“but this one is important for this moment. We believe that the soul and spirit are initially split. We believe that upon death, the gros-bon-ange, or good big angel, stays with the body for some time and eventually becomes part of the lwa—those unique and powerful spirits we serve. On the other hand, the ti-bon-ange, the good little angel, functions as a guardian and protector. When and if revived through ritual, the gros-bon-ange can become a govi, inhabiting an earthly vessel to remain with those they love and to be called upon by people like me. We are lucky enough to have those, you and I. Spirits who love us enough to remain.”
I swiped a tear from my cheek and nodded. “And now I can see and interact with them. A gift that you gave me.”
He kissed me. “You’re the gift, Hanlen.”
This man. My phone suddenly rang with a familiar tune.
“That’s probably my mom on video chat,” I said and stepped back just enough to pull my cell from my pocket to answer the call.
“Hey, Mom,” I said and took in my mother on the screen. Linette Arbor-Dunhill was a beautiful woman who fit in well with the elite, spandex-wearing, Botox-chasing, yoga-retreat-attending ladies of Boca Raton.
“Hi, sweetie. Hi, handsome,” she said to Dev. Mom had been all too thrilled when I called to tell her that Dev and I were together and that I was moving back to Arborwood. She even told me that her psychic had told her that would happen and that she kind of already knew. The old me would have scoffed at her and told her that she should adjust her meds. The new me could only smile. Because . . . who knew? Maybe her psychic was like Larken. Lark could be so intuitive it was kind of scary at times.
“Hi, Mrs. Dunhill.”
“I told you, call me Linette,” my mom corrected.
“Are you ready for the premiere?” I asked, and my mom nodded enthusiastically. “I so am. I cannot wait to see the old homestead and you guys on television. I’m so happy that you had such a wonderful trip initially and that you decided to return for the airing.” We hadn’t told her what’d happened with Remy a couple of weeks ago. At least, not yet. It had been tough to avoid chatting with her on video as I healed, but I still felt it was the right decision. She would likely find out eventually, but we didn’t want to worry her right now. Everything was taken care of, and nobody was in danger any longer. I figured I could tell her when I was settled back here in New Orleans for good. Especially since I pretty much knew that once she heard and found out we knew who’d killed Reagan, she’d want to hop on a plane immediately and make sure I was okay. See for herself, in person, that I was all right. And, surprisingly, I was okay with that.
She turned to her left and accepted a glass of wine from someone just off screen. “Thanks, hon,” she said and blew a kiss before looking back at the screen. “Your stepfather says hello.”
“Tell him hi from us. Are you guys watching alone?”
“No,” she said. “We have two sets of neighbors over. They’re in the other room getting drinks and filling up on appetizers. What about you guys? Romantic night?”
“Not at all, actually. But, even better. Here, hold on.” I flipped the view of the screen and panned the camera across the courtyard at the assembled guests. I wished that Mom could see Ray, but it was enough for me to know that she could see my mom. I looked over and saw her nodding with a sad smile. I waved from behind the camera where my mom couldn’t see.
“Hey, guys,” I called. Everybody turned to look at me. “Say hi to my mom, Linette. The previous owner of Arborwood. Mom, as I’m sure you’ll recognize, this is the cast and crew of Haunted New Orleans.”
“Oh my gosh,” I heard my mom say, and Dev smiled at me. “Brilliant stars. All of you. I absolutely love you all. Thank you for taking on Arborwood and getting us some answers.”
I flipped the camera back around and got both Dev and me in the frame. “Thanks for calling, Mom.” Just as I said that, someone extinguished the lights in the courtyard, the only illumination coming from the citronella tiki torches we had set up around the place, and the sound came on, the network’s logo showing on the massive screen.
“I think that’s our cue,” I said and smiled at my mother. “Enjoy the show. Call me tomorrow?” I asked. “I’m not headed back to Texas to pack up and get things squared away there for another day or two.”
“Of course, sweetie. Oh my gosh, I’m so excited,” she said and bounced in her seat. It made me smile. She placed her fingers against her lips. “Mwah, mwah, mwah.” She blew us kisses. “Go.
Enjoy. Love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
“You, too, Deveraux,” she added.
“The feeling’s mutual, Linette.”
Mom winked and disconnected, and I cuddled into Dev again, his strong arms coming around me.
“What do you say, gorgeous?” he said. “Ready to join everybody and check out this show? I hear it’s pretty good.”
“Yeah, I suppose that’d be okay,” I teased. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“That as soon as the credits roll, we kick everybody out, and you take me to bed immediately.”
He turned us, slung an arm around my shoulders, and kissed my temple. “I think that can be arranged.”
Just as we started walking, the atmospheric theme music for Haunted New Orleans filled the space, and Dev’s gorgeous face and melted-chocolate voice came on screen, followed by shots of each of the others in action. Schuyler handed me a glass of whiskey with ginger ale, and when I heard, “This . . . is Haunted New Orleans,” I knew that those five words would always mean more to me now. The truth had set me free.
I was finally home.
THE END
Haunted New Orleans Series
Coming in 2022 is Malum Discordiae, the second book in the Haunted New Orleans Series
When knowledge and temptation collide, the fall only needs a forbidden fruit.
For more information, click here:
https://www.ladybosspress.com/rayvnsalvador
Acknowledgments
To my friends and family who support me in everything I do . . . and it’s a lot at times, thank you from the bottom of my heart!
An extra-special thanks to my badass publishing team. You guys are rock stars!
Always, always to my wonderful editor, Laura, who never fails to make me feel good about my craft, and my steadfast betas—Erika, Brandon, Michelle, and Katrina . . . thank you! I love you guys tons. I also wouldn’t feel nearly as good about this without thoughts from Marissa, who served as my younger generation gauge, so she deserves a major shoutout here, too. I appreciate you, girl!
I’d also like to send a huge thank you and much love to my forever partner in crime, Jen Vayda, who shoved down her fear and joined me for a whirlwind of a trip over Halloween and the Day of the Dead in New Orleans several years back. And the premiere Voodoo Mambo of New Orleans, Bloody Mary, who took us on a rollercoaster of a ride, dipping into tantalizing niches of New Orleans, showing us and teaching us so very much. Things that only the most fortunate—or those who live it—get to see. We experienced more in seven days than I think most do in a lifetime. I will carry those memories forever, and the things that happened on our insane and once-in-a-lifetime trip were the beautiful fuel for the fire that is now the Haunted New Orleans series.
And last—but most certainly not least—you, dear readers. Thank you for taking a chance on me. For leaving encouraging reviews and sharing about my books far and wide. For sending me notes of wonder and praise. By reading the words between these pages, you are literally making my dreams come true. You are the absolute best!
Also available from Rayvn Salvador
The Willow Falls series:
Your Move
Seasons Change
The Fourth and Goal Series:
Blue Forty-Two
Blind Side
The Haunted New Orleans Series:
Eternal Spark – a Haunted New Orleans short story freebie
Memento Mori
Coming soon…
Malum Discordiae
Mea Culpa
About Rayvn Salvador
Rayvn Salvador is a lifelong bibliophile who left her eighteen-year IT career in Software Quality Assurance to live her dream: getting paid to read as a full-time editor (done as her alter ego), and to write when the mood strikes. She lives in Florida with three crazy cats and her incredibly supportive beau, dreaming about the Midwest’s changing leaves as she perfects her yoga poses on the beach.
Website: http://rayvnsalvador.com
Praise for Rayvn Salvador
“Rayvn Salvador pens an exhilarating and romantic tale you don’t want to miss!”
~USA Today Bestselling Author Jen Talty
“An exciting new author!”
~USA Today Bestselling Author Michele Hauf
“Rayvn is a great storyteller!”
~5-Star Amazon reviewer
“Words that bring vivid imagery, along with swoon-worthy feels.”
~USA Today Bestselling Author Tigris Eden/J.K Rivers
Memento Mori: Haunted New Orleans Series Page 17