They all crowded behind Gator as he pushed open the gate. The squeal it made was louder than a baby crying in church. Luc’s head spun around to see if any of the neighbors heard. No lights came on. Of course, the surrounding homes had mighty big yards. It’s not like anyone lived directly next door.
Once through the gate, a fountain appeared dead center. It was made up of the naked torsos of three women facing out, holding hands. They reminded him of those pictures of wooden maidens on the front of old ships. The first floor gallery had a table with chairs for eating and overlooking the lush garden.
A giant oak tree stood to the left, ivy climbed the trunk and several branches. The yard was filled with ferns, hydrangea bushes, camilla bushes, calla lilies, azalea bushes and bougainvillea in various colors.
They were led around past a screened-in porch to the back door. Gator took out a paperclip and straightened it, then shoved it into the lock. After moving it about, the lock sprang free and he shoved open the door.
“How the fuck did you know to do that?” Duke asked.
“The guy who delivers the groceries here. He told me this coo-yon had old locks and no burglar alarm.”
“He’s crazy stupid, that one.” Piggee said.
“Maybe it’s a trick,” Luc said, nervously. “Like he’s got a big hungry dog.”
“Look at you, more scared than a cat in a dog pound.” Spike laughed.
“Am not.” Luc stood to his full height and puffed out his chest. At six foot five, he towered over Spike. “Just being careful is all.”
Duke stepped between them.
“No dogs, no alarm, and no live-in servants,” Gator replied.
“How’d ya know he wouldn’t be home?” Duke asked.
“My friend heard him on the phone. He’s at some fancy charity thing downtown,” Gator answered.
They entered the kitchen, which had a stone fireplace separating it from the morning room that held a table and eight chairs. A staircase led up from the back of the kitchen, probably for the servants back in the day. They moved on through to the formal dining room that had a really long table surrounded with twenty-four chairs.
“Okay, everyone fan out and fill your bag. Check the entire house for gold and silver. Don’t forget to look for the stamp that says it’s real. Lots of these folks pretend to be rich when they’re not.” Gator went straight to the drawers in the china cabinet.
Luc heard the drawers opening and slamming behind him as he checked out the rest of the house. He thought his papa had money, but man was he wrong. The dark hardwood floors had fancy rugs in dark blue, green and red that covered the parts where people walked. The walls had dark wood paneling.
The room in the front of the house had floor to ceiling burgundy velvet curtains and furniture to match. The fireplace mantel was white with intricate carvings and the heads of lions on each side. The main door had etched glass and was surely made out of mahogany. The ceiling had crown moldings and the crystal chandeliers hung from ornate designs on the ceiling.
A round table with a large bouquet of flowers stood dead center of the foyer in front of the grand staircase. On the other side of that was a room with another fireplace. It also had a fancy dark wood mantel. The walls were covered in books with comfy-looking furniture.
Luc ran his hand along the carved banister as he climbed the stairs. He stuck his head in room after room on the second floor. They all had a fireplace, four poster beds and lots of antiques. This stuff he knew from his mama’s magazines. She would share pictures with him of the kind of home she’d dreamed of having one day. She would have loved this place. Luc decided he would live in a house like this when he grew up. Won’t his parents be jealous?
He wandered into a lady’s bedroom in yellow and navy. It was really frilly with floral prints and lace everywhere. The king-sized bed had curtains that matched the ones on the windows and bedspread. Fresh flowers adorned several surfaces.
Luc heard a shout, but couldn’t make out the words. It was probably Gator telling him to hurry. He started going through the jewelry box, but so far he couldn’t find anything that looked like real gold or silver.
“Luc!”
He turned toward the open door to where Duke stood.
“Come on, the old man’s home.” Then he was gone.
Luc could hear the thundering of feet on the stairs and ran after them. As he reached the ground floor, the front door swung open. The man standing there looked about as surprised as Luc. For a moment, they just stared at one another, then Luc took off toward the back of the house.
The old man followed. He was a lot faster than Luc would have imagined. The kitchen door stood wide open. Luc could see the back of Duke as he raced across the lawn and disappeared into the shadows. With his eyes focused on freedom, Luc heard heavy footfalls getting closer and closer. Just as he reached the threshold, he was yanked back by the scruff of his shirt with great force.
NINE
Luc found himself being dragged through the house by the collar of his shirt. Once in the front parlor, the man pointed to a couch, indicating he should sit. Luc didn’t see that he had a choice, so he plopped down on the velvety soft surface. Adrenaline flooded his system and he had to work hard to catch his breath.
He stared up at the tall man and decided he was more like his papa’s age. The way Gator talked, he thought the guy would be a lot older. That almost explained how he could run so fast, but Luc’s papa would never have been able to catch him like that.
“My name is Frank Thibodeaux. Who might you be?”
“None of your business.” No way was Jon-Luc going to give this guy any information about him.
A sinister grin appeared on the man’s face. “Now that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t remember inviting you into my home, yet here you are. So that makes it very much my business, Jon-Luc Boudreaux.”
Luc’s body twitched. “How did you know my name?”
“I know a lot about you, son.”
Luc seethed. “Don’t you call me that, I’m nobody’s son!”
The man sat in the chair opposite him.
“What do you think you know about me?” Luc tried to sound tough, but truthfully, the man scared the shit out of him.
“I know that at the rate you’re going you’ll never make it to your eighteenth birthday, and if by the grace of God you do, you’ll be spending it in prison. That is of course if you don’t let me help you now.” The man sat back and crossed one leg over the other as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“There’s nothing earth shattering about that news, after you call the cops, I’ll go to jail. So what? At least then I’ll get three hots and a cot. That’s not so bad.” He jutted his chin to show he didn’t care one bit, but inside his stomach soured.
The man’s brows rose. “So you’ve been there before?”
Luc shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Why the hell didn’t this guy just get it over with? Did he mean to torture him instead? He seemed pretty sure of himself. Luc could have a gun on him, this guy didn’t know he didn’t. He did have a switchblade. If he needed to, he could defend himself.
“No, but I have friends that have and they say it’s not so bad. So why don’t you just make the call?” Luc’s hands trembled, so he slid them into his pockets before the man noticed.
“You want me to call the police to come and get you?”
“Yes. No. It doesn’t matter, you’re gonna do it anyway. Might as well get it over with.” The words rushed from Luc’s mouth so fast he had to take a big breath when he was done. “Aren’t you?”
Frank crossed his arms. “That’s up to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I could help you with those visions. You aren’t crazy, Jon-Luc, no matter what your father said.”
“You know my father?” Luc jumped to his feet. “I’m not going to the nut house. I’d rather die.” He concentrated hard to keep from bawling like a little kid.
“Calm down
, son. Just sit. I’m not going to let anyone take you to a mental hospital.”
Luc fisted his hands at his sides. “I told you not to call me son,” he ground out.
“My apologies. Your friends call you Luc. Can I call you that?”
Luc looked at the ground. “I suppose.” Then his head shot up. “Wait, how do you know what they call me? I don’t know you.” He looked around for a means of escape. He wondered if he got a head start if he could get away. The man’s legs were pretty long. So were his arms for that matter, which gave him a long reach. Could he race past him in time?
“Let’s just say we have something in common. Now sit back down. You have no need to be afraid of me. I just want to help you.”
“Pfft.” Luc crossed his arms. “Yeah, right.”
“You know, Luc, there are people in this world you can trust.”
“Like you?” He laughed sarcastically. “Why should I trust you?”
“To prove my point, I’m not going to call the police.”
Luc looked at him warily. “You’re not?”
The man shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“What are you going to do to me instead?” Then a thought occurred to him and he started backing away. “Nuh uh, no way. I’m no fucking faggot.”
The man’s head tipped back and he roared with laughter. Luc stared at the guy. He laughed so hard, his face turned red. “Hey.” But the man didn’t hear him. “Hey!” Luc yelled. “Don’t you laugh at me. I’ll knock you into next week.”
Luc was getting more pissed by the second. “Screw you, I’m outta here.” He turned toward the door.
Finally, the man’s laughter died down. “No, Luc, please. I’m sorry. It’s just that you took me by surprise. The last thing on my mind was making you my sex slave.”
With one hand on the knob, Luc turned back and stared at the man. He’d been on the streets long enough to be propositioned by both men and women. He wasn’t stupid. Nothing in this world was free.
“Yeah? Then what do you want from me?”
“Nothing, I swear.”
“Okay, I’ll be on my way then.” Luc opened the door.
“Wait.” The man leapt out of his chair and came forward. Luc got into a fighting stance. The man stepped back and put his hands up in surrender. “Look, I’m serious. I really do want to help you. I know what you’re going through, you’re not the only one who sees the dead.”
Luc pointed at him. “You?”
“Yes, me. I was lucky in that I knew people who taught me how to manage the visions. There are things you can do to block them without anesthetizing yourself. Luc, you don’t have to be alone with this.”
Luc relaxed a bit and eyed the man carefully. He seemed to be telling the truth. How else did he know all that stuff about him? “What do I have to do?”
“Just come back tomorrow. I’ll show you a few tricks to manage the images so you can have a more productive life. That’s all.”
Luc gave him a sideways glance. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll think about it.” With that, Luc fled the house without looking back.
TEN
Luc ran hard and fast into the night just in case the man changed his mind about calling the cops. He had no intention of going back to that house. An hour later, he found himself alone in the abandoned warehouse he’d called home for the last three years. After waiting for hours, he finally fell asleep.
When he awoke the next morning, he was still by himself. Where was everyone? He dug around in their stash and came up with a stale donut for breakfast. Luc searched the city, checking every spot he could think of, but had no luck finding his friends. Did they get thrown in jail? How could he find out?
Luc stood at the edge of the trees across the street from the NOLA Police Department on the corner of Royal and Condi pondering his dilemma. The city was filled with shadows as the sun faded behind the buildings. Suddenly a hand clamped over his mouth and a blade shoved at his throat.
Knowing better than to struggle, he allowed his captor with the hideous sardine breath to pull him backward. Once hidden from the street by the cover of bushes, Gator walked into his view. If he had to guess, he’d say Spike was the one gleefully holding the knife praying for permission to use it.
“What’s going on?” Luc asked.
“You were sure in there a long time last night,” Gator stated.
“I couldn’t help it. That man was holding me hostage.”
Piggee came up next to Gator. “Why didn’t he call the cops on your ass?”
“I…I…I don’t know.” Where was Duke? How come he wasn’t here to talk some sense into these guys?
Just then Duke came around from behind him, his expression was not one of sympathy. “So he let you go just like that?” He snapped his fingers.
Luc stared from face to face and knew he was in trouble if he couldn’t come up with an answer they would buy. “I escaped.”
Duke elbowed Gator out of the way, his face came within an inch of Luc’s. “Really? I saw you, that man was right on your tail as you ran for the back door. He grabbed you and dragged your ass back inside. How did you outrun him the second time?”
“Did you blow him so he’d let you go?” Piggee snickered.
Shocked by the implication, Luc yelled, “No!”
“Then how?” Gator asked.
“I hit him on the head and I got away before he recovered.”
“With what?” Duke asked.
“Huh?” Luc needed to buy himself some time to think.
“Read my lips. What. Did. You. Hit. Him. With?” Duke enunciated every word like Luc was deaf.
“A lamp!” The word flew from Luc’s mouth.
“Wow, good thinking.” Gator nodded and looked at those standing around, before his gaze came back to Luc. “Then how come the guy didn’t call the cops?”
“He probably did,” Luc said with confidence.
“That’s why you’re standing across the street from the police department? Just checking out your theory to see if there was a warrant out for your arrest?” Duke said.
“I was looking for you guys. I’ve been searching all day, when I couldn’t find you I thought maybe you’d been clipped. I was standing here trying to figure out how I could find out,” Luc explained.
“Isn’t that sweet,” Gator said. “He was worried about us.”
“Well, yeah.” That earned Luc a nick under the neck by Spike. He could feel warm blood dripping down his skin.
Gator pushed Duke out of the way and grabbed Luc by the front of his shirt pulling him so close he could smell the stench of cigarettes on his breath. “You must have given us up for your freedom.”
“I ain’t no snitch!” Luc bellowed.
“No matter, you’ve been made. You can’t hang with us anymore. I so much as see you, I’m gonna kill you. I might let Spike help. He’s been itchin’ to do you in since day one.” With that, he shoved him back into Spike’s arms who ran the blade horizontally across his throat before he pushed him to the ground.
Luc watched them disappear into the shadows. He ran his hand across his neck. Although the cuts were only superficial, they hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and bled a lot too. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. Out of everything said and done, it was Duke’s attitude that really hurt. How could he even think Luc would betray his brothers.
Hesitant to pick a pocket or snatch a purse without the safety of the gang, he stuck to stealing food to get by. Worse, without the drugs that Piggee supplied or the alcohol that Duke purchased, his visions had returned. He found himself thinking more and more about his conversation with Frank.
He said he could help, but what if it was a trap? In Luc’s experience, everyone lied. No one could be trusted. What if he showed up and the man called the cops after all? What if he wanted him to join some crazy cult? No, it was better for him to go it alone.
A little over a week later, Luc was sleeping in an old aba
ndoned shack he’d found. He awoke abruptly to the shadow of a man standing above him. Luc scrambled back until he hit the wall.
The man took two steps toward Luc and the light from the moon shining through a crack in the roof landed on him making his features visible. His throat had been cut, a wide gaping wound yawned in his neck as blood gushed like a river down the front of his shirt. The man tried to cover the gash with his hands, but the blood simply seeped through his fingers.
So much blood.
Luc had never seen that much blood in his life. The man’s mouth worked, but no words came out, just a sickening gurgling sound. Panicked, Luc leapt to his feet and stretched his hand toward the injury to help staunch the flow. But before he made contact, the man vanished into thin air.
Luc’s body shook violently from the terrifying experience. It was as if God were playing a sick joke on him. He showed him these ghastly visions and got him emotionally involved, and then made them disappear. It was really messed up. If he couldn’t help these people, then what was the point? He imagined Him up in heaven laughing and yelling, psych!
He couldn’t take this shit anymore. Suddenly he had to get away, so he ran. He ran like his life depended on it. Luc had no destination in mind he just had to distance himself from the man in the shack. Logically he knew there was no escape, but he tried anyway.
Exhausted, he collapsed on a lawn in front of someone’s house. Gasping for air, he lay there staring up at the stars. The neighborhood was quiet save for a dog barking somewhere, probably at a cat who had wandered into his yard or was teasing him on the top of a fence.
Luc had no idea what to do, his life was shit.
What the hell was the point of struggling to survive day after day? He had nothing to look forward to, no friends, no family. He might as well just end it, but how? He could jump into the muddy waters of the Mississippi river and swim into one of those giant paddlewheel boats.
Spirits of the Bayou Page 6