Daughter of the Thirteen: Bourbon Street Witches Book 1

by Lorraine Kennedy

  The four of them turned to see Laurel, who had fallen to her knees. “You’re lying,” she sobbed. “He told me everything was okay now … that we were free.”

  Bridgett swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Her cousin had freed Laurel, but she knew better than to believe that Marcos would get away from the coven’s pact, free and clear. There was always a price to pay.

  Mora ran to Laurel and helped her to her feet. “Shush now. What’s important is that you are free.”

  Laurel shook her head violently. “But he is my destiny. I know that now. He’s been with me since I was a little girl. Take me back to Cypress Grove,” she demanded.

  Bale took her shaking hands in his. “Listen to me Laurel. You would not want to see him the way he is. In fact, he has forbidden it. He does not want to see you again … ever. I’m sorry, but he’s right about this. In his current state, he could hurt you.”

  Bridgett looked away. She couldn’t bear the pain in Laurel’s eyes.

  There had to be a way to save Marcos. It wasn’t just that she would be losing her cousin, but as the demon within him took over, none of them would be safe, not even Laurel.

  There was no way they would be able to keep Laurel from going to him. That much was obvious.

  If anyone knew what to do, it would be the voodoo queen, Marie Laveau, but she’d been dead for decades. According to legend, before her death, the old witch had discovered the secret of passing in and out of the Underworld.

  The spell she’d stolen from the coven would close the door, but wouldn’t allow passage to mortals.

  But there could still be a way.

  “I may know how to set this straight,” Bridgett told them.

  * * *

  Laurel paced the floor, glancing at the clock for the tenth time in less than an hour. She’d waited two weeks for this night, and now that the time was near the minutes seemed to tick by so slowly, it was torture.

  But they needed it to be a full moon. At the moon’s zenith, they could summon the old voodoo queen.

  During those torturous days of waiting, she’d hoped to hear from Marcos, but it hadn’t happened. Since waking at St. Claire House, she hadn’t heard a thing from him.

  His silence was like a knife in her heart. Now that she knew his love, how could she possibly live without him?

  The days passed in wave after wave of bitter misery.

  When she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, she found her way back to Cypress Grove, but it was deserted. Strangely enough, it appeared as if no one had been there for years.

  The girls were angry with her when they discovered where she’d gone, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted answers.

  Where was Marcos, and how could the place be in such bad shape when it was immaculate only days before.

  Bridgett had a theory, which wasn’t’ unusual. She was the thinker of the four of them.

  Bridgett figured that Marcos had been taken into the Underworld and that he no longer existed in the material world. None of them had any idea how time worked once someone crossed over, but it had to have some kind of influence over a being’s existence in this world.

  Bridgett came into the parlor wearing her black hooded cloak. “It’s almost time,” she announced.

  Relief flooded over her. Finally it was time.

  Grabbing her own cloak, she followed Bridgett downstairs. Mora and Arlene were waiting for them.

  “Do you have everything?” Bridgett asked Arlene.

  Arlene nodded.

  “Good. Let’s go then,” Bridgett led the way.

  They turned toward the St. Louis Cemetery, which was where they’d find the old voodoo queen’s grave.

  Bale fell in behind them. “Well thank you my wicked witches. I’m so glad you invited me along.”

  Bridgett threw a sour look over her shoulder. “We don’t need your help with this.”

  Bale walked a little faster until he was beside Bridgett. “The way I see it, you do need my help. Four witches wandering the streets after dark, is like dangling bait in front of a city of vampires. Besides, if you find a way into the Underworld, I’m going with you,” he informed her.

  “Are you crazy?” Bridgett asked. “Even if we manage to get into the Underworld, getting back might not be so easy.”

  Bale shrugged. “You could say I’m the curious type. Always wondered what the old hotbox was like. I’m also very curious as to how those ancient witches managed to keep the first vampires locked away.”

  Expressing her aggravation with a tired sigh, Bridgett told him, “Just stay out of our way … and be warned, if those bloodsuckers do manage to escape Hell, I’ll be putting them back. Our deal was to help you find a way in. It didn’t include not putting them back where they belong if you do happen to release them.”

  Bale clucked his tongue. “Such a temper you have … and manipulative. Are you very sure your mother wasn’t one of the thirteen?”

  Bridgett’s eyes cut through him, but she said nothing.

  By the time they reached the cemetery, the moon was high, providing plenty of light.

  There was one good thing about having Bale with them. If there were any vampires hiding in the cemetery, he’d be able to sense them immediately.

  After winding their way through some very elaborate tombs, they finally came to the small - plain tomb.

  Laurel had no idea why she’d expected more, but now that she thought about it, she shouldn’t have been surprised at the simplicity of the tomb. Marie had been a powerful voodoo queen, but not part of the city’s elite society.

  Arlene was already placing the candles in a circle. When the circle was complete, Mora went to each candle and touched the wick with her fingertip. Instantly, a flame appeared.

  Bale was standing outside the circle, watching in fascination.

  “You coming or not?” Bridgett asked.

  Nodding, he stepped into the circle. “This hocus pocus won’t melt me, will it?”

  “Hopefully,” Bridgett grumbled.

  When all the candles were lit, they got into a circle and held hands. Pulling on the power of the others in the circle, Bridgett chanted,

  “Marie Laveau, hear my words … hear me cry, spirit from the other side. Come to me, I summons thee. Cross now the bridge divide.”

  The flames of the candles exploded, sending balls of fire into the air.

  Laurel called up the courage to open her eyes, but only to slits. She had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming.

  There was a form of a woman standing in front of the tomb. Her head was lowered; making it difficult to see what she looked like.

  “Who is it that calls my name?” Her words were laced with a heavy French accent.

  Laurel froze when the other witches looked to her, waiting for her to answer.

  She had to answer. If she ever wanted to see Marcos again, she had to throw herself on the mercy of this spirit.

  “We seek the door to the Underworld,” Laurel responded, surprised by the strength in her voice.

  “The door to the Underworld is closed to mortals.”

  “But you know a way in,” Laurel insisted.

  The spirit didn’t look up at them. “What is your purpose?”

  “We must find someone who has been taken there, before his time.”

  “If you descend into Hell and are allowed to return … be warned that you will all bring back with you, a curse that cannot be undone.” The spirit cautioned.

  Laurel looked to the others. None of them even blinked at the news.

  “What will be our curse?” Laurel asked the voodoo queen.

  “The truth of your curse will be revealed over time.”

  Laurel nodded her understanding, as did each of the others.

  “So it shall be.” The spirit’s voice floated on the night breeze. “The door to the Underworld is hidden within the black tomb. The key to the that door is your darkest fear.”

  Mora gasped, breaking Laurel�
��s concentration.

  In that instant, the flames of the candles were extinguished, and the inky silhouette faded until it blended with the surrounding darkness.

  “What was that about?” Bridgett frowned. “We needed more information.”

  “I know where the black tomb is, but I don’t think we should go there,” Mora told them.

  “Why not?” Arlene wanted to know. “Isn’t that what we are here for?”

  “The black tomb is where the demon nun is buried. Two hundred years ago, a nun murdered dozens of children. They say she was a fallen angel that disguised herself as a nun.”

  Bridgett rolled her eyes. “That’s just an old story to keep people away from the black tomb … and now we know why.”

  “No, the story is true,” Mora insisted.

  “Well you are free to turn back,” Bridgett told her.

  Mora shook her head. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you all.”

  “Where is this tomb?” Laurel asked.

  “It was Bale that answered. “Not far. There’s an abandoned church in Jefferson Parish. The black tomb is hidden at the back of the church.”

  “How do you know this?” Bridgett was skeptical.

  “At one time the church was used as a vampire nest,” he confessed. “People stayed away because of the demon nun.”

  ‘That’s fantastic!” Mora grumbled. “More vampires.”

  Arlene had remained quiet, but she finally broke her silence. “It isn’t the vampires we need to worry about. Mora’s right. The demon nun is real, and she is said to guard the door to Hell.”

  “Hogwash,” Bridgett came back. “I’ve been in these parts my whole life, and I’ve never heard anything about a demon nun.”

  “I hate to take sides, but I know vampires who have actually seen her,” Bale cut in.

  “Laurel and I are leaving for Jefferson Parish at sunset … we’ll go alone if need be,” Bridgett snapped.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The carriage rocked violently as the driver maneuvered the ruts and gouges in the dirt road. It was apparent the road had not been used in years.

  If it had been abandoned since the early 1700s, Laurel couldn’t help but wonder how much of the building would still be intact.

  Getting information on old churches wasn’t easy, but Bale told them it had once been called Saint Joseph’s. With Bale being the only one of them that would have been living at that time, it was likely he knew what he was talking about.

  If he knew about the church, then what he said about the demon nun was probably true also.

  Laurel shuddered.

  Perhaps it would have been better to do what was necessary to stay at the convent.

  It was a nice thought, but not practical. The demons had no problem getting to her inside Saint Michael’s. Remaining there wouldn’t have been any better.

  The carriage jerked to a stop. A moment later, the driver opened the carriage door and stuck his head inside.

  “My apologies, but the road is impassable from here. It is not much further … only a short walk,” he informed them.

  Bridgett left the coach first. Laurel followed.

  She couldn’t wait to get out. Cramming five of them inside the coach was pushing its capacity limit.

  The driver was right. From where she stood, Laurel could see the shadowy structure against the moonlit sky.

  Without a word, Bale took one of the glowing lanterns from the carriage and started toward the church. It was better that way. If there were still vampires, he could warn them.

  The church’s courtyard had long ago been choked out with weeds. A statue lay on the ground, crumbled and in decay. The building wasn’t in any better shape. It was downright spooky.

  At one time the church might have been peaceful, even beautiful, but as Laurel stared at its ghost, it wasn’t difficult to imagine a nun had committed mass murder within its walls.

  Stopping abruptly, Bale sniffed the air.

  “Are there vampires?” Bridgett asked in a hushed voice.

  Bale shook his head. “It’s clear … of vampires in any case.”

  Laurel sighed. No vampires meant that was one less peril they would have to worry about.

  As they drew closer to the building, Laurel felt as if she were entering a cloud of darkness, an evil so vile as to be incomprehensible to any but the Dark Prince himself.

  The bolt and run instinct that was such a vital element of human survival, urged her to get away as fast as her legs would carry her.

  It was the memory of Marcos’s eyes, his kiss, and the way she felt when she was in his arms that kept her putting one foot in front of the other. If she perished, so be it. Life without him would be one long miserable nightmare. It was better to fight and lose, than to have no hope.

  One at a time they climbed the stairs, the old wood creaking loudly beneath their feet.

  If there was anything hiding in the church, it already knew they were there.

  With the interior of the building bathed in the lantern’s soft yellow light, it no longer seemed quite so terrifying, but the heavy - bad feeling was still there.

  The building had been gutted. There were a couple pews left, pieces of broken statues, and an altar, but that was about it.

  “Show us where the tomb is,” Bridgett whispered to Bale.

  “Mind you … I haven’t seen it for myself,” he confessed. “I’ve just heard about it.”

  At first she didn’t see the doorway behind the altar. It was hidden in shadow until Bale held up the lantern.

  “It’s through there.” He pointed to a gaping hole in the wall where there had once been a door.

  Bale went first, the witches followed.

  When they stepped through the doorway, they found themselves in a small room with walls that had once been painted black. There were still traces of the paint, but most of the color had peeled away.

  Laurel’s eyes were fixed on a black door. It was flush with the wall and appeared to be made of wrought iron. There was a cross cast in the metal, along with some words.

  Stepping closer, Bale held up the lantern to put light on the writing.

  “I think it is written in Latin,” he told them.

  With everything she’d learned about keeping evil at bay while she was at Saint Michael’s, Laurel had no doubt about what the writing was. It had been put there to keep the evil locked behind the door.

  “It is meant to keep whatever is behind that door, from escaping,” Laurel explained. “It’s beginning to look like the story of the nun is true.”

  “There is no handle to open the door,” Bridgett pointed out, ignoring Laurel’s reference to the nun.

  Bridgett was like that. When she wasn’t comfortable with something, she’d just as soon pretend it didn’t exist.

  Mora shrugged. “With all of us together, we should be able to open it with a spell.”

  “We need a protection spell too,” Arlene put in.

  “Well whatever you wicked witches plan to do, I suggest you get on with it,” Bale grumbled. “I don’t plan on being here come sunrise.”

  Bridgett turned to Laurel. “From here on out, you will need to lead. Your heart is the only possible chance we have to save Marcos, which is our mission.

  Laurel nodded.

  What Bridgett was trying to say was that the Hell she entered, would have to be her Hell. That was where she would find Marcos.

  All four witches placed their right hand on the door and closed their eyes.

  “Cast aside the words that bind … one through five, let us inside.” Bridget’s words echoed through the church.

  The door was no longer static. It began to bubble and pulsate like red glowing lava.

  When the glowing lessened and finally vanished, the witches stepped back. As soon as they did, the door creaked open.

  Bridgett looked to Laurel; she had to be the one to open the door and step through the threshold.

 
; “Bale … will you walk behind me?” Laurel asked. “I will need the light from the lantern.”

  The vampire nodded, stepping behind Laurel. “I’ll stick to you like gooey honey on a hot day.”

  Taking a deep breath to calm the erratic hammering in her chest, Laurel stepped through the doorway.

  She’d expected to see that black coffin, but not what was sitting on top of it.

  At first it seemed like a blob of dark matter, but it slowly began to take shape. It was draped in a nun’s habit, which wasn’t a big surprise.

  What held her in a grip of terror was the thing’s face. The headpiece framed a half rotted face, but the eyes were alive and glowing a translucent green. A serpent’s tongue flicked in and out of the nun’s mouth.

  They’d never discussed how exactly they would deal with the demon nun, if the story were true.

  “Now … what?” Laurel stuttered, choking on the tentacle of fear wrapping its way around her throat.

  “I don’t know. I need to think,” Bridgett whispered, panic evident in her voice.

  Oh no!

  If Bridgett was panicking, they were in trouble. Bridgett never panicked.

  The whole time they were standing there, the nun’s eyes never left Laurel.

  And then the thing spread its peeling rotted lips, smiling at Laurel.

  “You wish to pass into the Underworld?” The deep - rasping voice echoed through her head.

  With no idea of what she should do or say, Laurel jerked her head in what would pass as a nod.

  The demon nun lifted a bony hand and an abyss of darkness opened up in front of Laurel. “Escape your fear … and see what awaits you at the other end.”

  “We don’t have to do anything with the nun,” Bridget said in hushed tones. “She’s only here to guard the entrance.”

  Laurel wished she could find comfort in Bridgett’s observation of their predicament, but she couldn’t.

  It took all the willpower she possessed, but Laurel managed to push the fear aside and step into the void.

  Suddenly she was isolated by thick - inky darkness. She knew the others were behind her, yet she was alone.

  They were all still together, but each of them had entered their own hell.

  The knowledge was there, when she hadn’t had it only seconds before.