by Arden, Alys
“Hey, Dad.”
“Sweetheart!”
“Addie,” chimed the detective, “what a pleasant surprise.”
“Hi, Detective.” I greeted him through gritted teeth. “How’s the case coming?”
“Slowly but surely. Just got a new lead, actually. I need to run. You can have my seat.”
Is he referring to my mother as a new lead? What the hell is going on here?
After a quick cough, the detective drained the booze and shook my dad’s hand. “Mac.”
“Adele, I hear your mom’s back in town. You seen her?”
Concerned, my father set down his glass, waiting for my reaction.
“No,” I lied. Well, I hadn’t talked to her, anyway.
“Do you know where she is sta—”
“Terry. Minor. Out!”
The detective gave my dad an apologetic look and headed for the exit. My gaze stayed with him until the door closed.
My father treaded with caution. “Did you get some studying done with Désirée?”
“Yeah, it was far more educational than I ever could have guessed.”
“Good.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. About last night. About everything. It’s just that everything is so different now… I feel like I’m on another planet sometimes.”
“I know, honey. And I’m sorry for keeping the bar hidden from you. I didn’t want to implicate you in any way. After all, it is illegal.” He paused. “She’ll turn up eventually, Adele.”
“That’s not very comforting, Dad. Why do you think she’s here?”
“I don’t know, honey, but I am sure it’s got something to do with you. She probably couldn’t stay away after having you for two months.”
I gave him my best “get real” look. Does he not remember that she just shipped me off to boarding school the second she had the chance to be with me? “Is it okay if I just sit here and study for a while?”
“Sure, but don’t tell Terry I let you stay out after curfew.” He winked.
“Me being out after curfew is the least of Detective Matthews’ problems.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” He plunged the cork from a bottle of Cabernet and poured a heavy glass for a bar patron. “Only two more bottles… soon we’ll have nothing left.”
“Hmm.” I looked at the empty bottles lining the floor behind the bar: various wines, rums, bourbons, vodkas, Sazerac, Pimms, but on the shelf – a dozen bottles of gin, all full.
I shook my head and kept my mouth shut, as I took out Adeline’s diary and my notebook and began translating.
6th June 1728
I spent the rest of the journey in agony, Papa. Always anticipating the worst. We went nearly two weeks without any evidence of the vampires, but, just as my nerves began to settle, two orphans woke with symptoms. The guilt began to consume me, being the one who had saved the monsters from drowning. I tormented myself with regret, thinking I should have let them all sink to the bottom of the ocean.
Every morning I prayed with the nuns for good weather and strong winds to expedite the journey. After a few days, only one of the girls had woken. I spent night and day with the remaining unconscious girl, until one morning her chest no longer moved up and down. I became hysterical. Cosette did her best to calm me, and the captain assured me we would reach La Nouvelle-Orléans in two days’ time.
Thank heavens he was correct. Two days later I stepped onto the dock of the port de la Nouvelle-Orléans with a heavy mix of emotions. I was elated that the passengers I had come to know so well were no longer trapped at sea with the deadliest of predators, but I could not celebrate this victory knowing that the vampires would soon be unleashed upon the unsuspecting citizens of this new land.
I never told the triplets of my theory regarding the cassettes. Knowing innocent people had been bitten after I saved the monsters was too shameful. Despite my heavy mood, the girls made me celebrate our arrival by attending a parade commencing that very afternoon, honoring the completion of the new Ursuline Convent on Rue de Chartres.
Women led the way, tossing flower petals into the newly stoned streets, while the men beat drums and blew horns. Children twirled strips of fabric tied to sticks, and an elderly man rode a mule, waving the King’s flag. The parade did raise my spirits, mostly because I couldn’t help but marvel at the procession of people. There were rich and poor. Men of the Holy Cloth and women of the very unholy cloth. White. Black. Dark. Light. Young girls with tanned skin and shiny black hair tied into intricate braids and adorned with feathers and beads held hands and walked side by side with the Sisters. I overheard a local Frenchman nearby call them “savages” as they passed.
Most of the colonists are French, but I occasionally hear words of Spanish, English, German, and others I do not recognize. The mixture makes La Nouvelle-Orléans seem so progressive, so scandalous! Of course, I immediately fell in love with this land. Maybe it really is true that a person could start over here…
“Sweetheart, you should really get home,” my father said. “It’s a school night, and you have midterms. I’ll ask Troy to walk you.”
“I can escort her home,” came a voice from behind me. “If that’s okay with you, Adele.”
I turned around, but I already knew from his accent that it was Nicco.
“And who are you? I’ve seen you around here with that blond guy. Quite the ladies’ man, that one.”
“Niccolò Medici, sir. And I can assure you, my brother Gabriel is harmless. He’s just been cooped up for a long time.”
My father raised an eyebrow.
“In the library,” Nicco quickly added. “Cooped up in the library. He just finished writing his dissertation.”
You’d think someone who’d been around for so long would be a better liar. The idea of Gabriel Medici sitting in the library writing a dissertation was absurd.
“Dad, Nicco and Gabe came to town looking for missing relatives, and they’ve stayed on to help with the recovery efforts. They were staying with the Palermos for a while, helping Mr. Felix clean out the shop.” I think that was all actually true.
“Well, welcome to New Orleans, son. I hope everything is all right with your family.” He poured a stiff drink and slid it across the bar to Nicco, who caught it right before it went over the edge. A little spilled over, which I was sure he did on purpose. He brought the drink to his mouth, and I could tell that he was trying not to make a face as the scent hit. He glanced at my father and then back at me, set the glass down, and slid it back to my father. “I’d better not.”
“Correct answer.”
“So this city can’t get a real food or petrol supply, but you can get shipments of liquor?”
“No, no, no. That which you just turned down is the finest Hurricane Hootch your lips will ever taste. And by the finest, I mean the only Hurricane Hootch in existence.”
“And who distills this magical moonshine?” asked Nicco.
“Yeah, Dad, who distills this magical moonshine?”
He looked at me, knowing full well that he was busted. “Er, an old family friend.”
I shot him a “no more secrets” look. He returned with a look of concession that also begged to drop the subject. I smiled, satisfied with our exchange, and he stepped away to help a customer.
Nicco turned to me. “You know, at one point in time it would have been insulting not to accept that drink. It’s strange the way humans have evolved.”
“You know, at one point in time, the general populous believed in vampires?”
“Like I said, it’s strange the way humans have evolved.”
“Touché.”I tried not to sound smitten. “Where did you come from, by the way? I didn’t even realize you were here.”
“I’ve been sitting in the corner, waiting for an opportune time to approach you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” a small smile flashed, “it’s a little intimidating.”
I laughed. “What could possibly be intimidat
ing?”
“I mean, with your father and all…”
I looked at my dad, who was slinging moonshine but still watching us, and then back at Nicco. I didn’t know what to make of a vampire being intimidated by my father.
“Three-hundred-plus years later and you’re still intimidated by the fathers of girls?”
“Not the father of just any girl.”
The task of inhaling air suddenly felt very difficult. “Then let’s get out of here,” I barely squeaked, gathering my things. When we were nearly at the door, I yelled goodbye to my father, not giving him a chance to stop me.
“Be careful, and go straight home!”
* * *
Once we were out of Troy’s view, Nicco extended his elbow. “So, bella,which way?”
I curled my palm around his arm; last night’s memories fluttered. I mean, I’m not in danger of being drained by a malnourished child of the night if I’m out with a nourished one, right?
Never trust a vampire.
I pushed Nicco’s words away and racked my brain for a post-curfew place to go. It was too cold (and too illegal) to just wander about. I can’t invite Nicco back home –surely he’d get the wrong idea…
“Can I make a suggestion?” he said, interrupting my internal freak out.
“Sure.” Where could he know about that I didn’t? Two blocks later, he led me to the Clover Grill and pushed the door. Surprisingly, it was unlocked.
“I noticed it late last night,” he said, holding open the door. “Have you been here before?”
“Uh, yeah, it’s only an institution.”
The twenty-four-hour diner was known for its omelets, flamboyant staff, and hangover-curing patty melts. There was usually a line outside. I had never seen the place empty, but tonight it was just us, and the feeling that we were getting away with something.
Inside the old eatery, the temperature was barely warmer than outside, but the counter was lit by a row of tea lights, music was playing, and the smell of recently heated grease hung in the air. As soon as the glass door shut behind us, we were greeted with a menacing growl, and a pit bull appeared from the shadows. Nicco stepped ahead of me, but I looped in front of him and knelt down to greet the chocolate-colored canine, who in turn ran her drool-covered tongue over the line on my cheek.
“Stella, gross!” I wiped my face with my sleeve.
“Addie! Little Addie, is that you?” shrieked a voice from behind the grill. “You come over here right now and give Blanche some love!”
I scurried to the other side of the counter to embrace Blanche, who was kind of a downtown celebrity, famous for both his mammoth omelets at the Clover Grill and his drag performances a few blocks over at Lucky Cheng’s. Tonight he sported a white-ribbed tank, baggy jeans, a hair net, and false eyelashes accentuated with glitter-swept eyelids.
“Well, you look fabulous,” I said.
“Of course I look fabulous. You think imma let some little thang like a hurricane keep me from lookin’ fabulous? I don’t think so, honey!” He snapped his finger and did a full twirl. Blanche talked faster than anyone I knew, and he rivaled Ren in Oscarworthy performances.
“Wait. Stella and Blanche?” Nicco asked. “As in Blanche DuBois?”
“As in Blanche Du-whoever-I-felt-like-when-I-woke-up-this-morning, thank you very much.” He rolled his head to me. “He’s quick.”
“Nicco, this is Blanche.” I held back giggles. “Blanche, this is Nicco.”
“En-shan-tay, baby.” Blanche grabbed Nicco’s hand and raised it to his lips. “You a quick one, and you pretty too.”
Nicco’s cold blood ambushed his otherwise pale cheeks, making him look more human. My imprisoned giggles burst from their holding tanks.
“Take any seat ya like. As you can see, folks ain’t exactly beatin’ down the do’.”
I slipped into one of the red leather booths, and Nicco grabbed a candle from the counter before sliding across from me. It was almost, dare I say, romantic. Not a word I ever dreamed I’d use in reference to the Clover Grill.
“What are you doing open?” I asked Blanche as he came to take our order. “What about the curfew? Not that I’m complaining.”
“Honey, if they want me to close, then they gonna haf to come down here and drag me to the O.P.P. in cuffs. And I know that’s not gonna happen ’cause there ain’t a single pair of cuffs ta spare. They ain’t got no room in that Orleans Parish Prison to arrest a girl for makin’ omelets.” He waved a spatula in a tizzy. “But you know after that curfew hits, ain’t no one gonna come in here for the rest of the night. You know the only ones who comin’ up in here are?”
“Hmm?”
“The po-pos! So I end up jus’ fryin’ eggs for half the parish precinct. But that’s okay, honey” – his voice dropped an octave – “’cause I love a man in uniform.”
Nicco seemed a little taken aback, which made me smile, considering how much he must have seen over the last three centuries.
“Whatchou want, baby? I got omelets, and I got omelets. My egg-guy seems ta be my only guy back in bidness. Well, not my only guy, if ya catch ma drift.” He hooted and slapped his knees. “Wahoo! It’s good ta see ya home, Addie Le Moyne. And how is your mighty hot daddy?”
“He’s fine,” I responded, cringing when I realized the word I had chosen. This time it was Nicco who couldn’t refrain from laughing. “Welcome back to New Orleans,” I said to him through blushing cheeks.
“How ’bout I jus’ bring y’all the Hurricane Special?”
“The Hurricane Special sounds perfect,” I said.
Blanche’s hip cocked as he turned to Nicco.
“When in Rome…”
“Alrighty, baby.” Blanche went back behind the counter, fired up the grill, and cranked up an old boom-box, blasting a classic Mariah Carey album. Stella came to our booth with a rumbling growl and rested on the floor. She quieted down when I petted her head, but she never took her eyes off Nicco.
“Tennessee Williams, such a tragic fellow.” Nicco’s hand brushed mine as he picked up the plastic menu on the table. My heart thumped as he looked at me. “You know he used to live not too far from here, on Toulouse Street?”
“Everyone knows that, son!” Blanche yelled from the grill without turning around.
I raised my head to peek at the boom-box and turned the volume up just enough to mask our conversation.
My attention came back to the table just in time to see Nicco finishing a silent exchange with someone on the other side of the window – just before she rushed off, her mane of bright blonde hair swinging behind her, luminous in the night. It was ultraquick, but I swear she’d given him a threatening look, which he had returned with an equally hostile expression. His demeanor changed as his eyes dropped from the window.
“What was that all about?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Who is she? The blonde?” I tried my best not to sound like a jealous lunatic. “She keeps showing up – the night of the tour, last night at the bar, and she was the one who walked past us that morning, right? Following me when I ran into you, after you had… gotten into the fight?” I paused, but then continued before he had the chance to answer. “Is she the one biting my classmates?” Anger edged through my tone. “The one killing people?”
Our eyes locked. I focused on keeping my mouth shut so he could speak.
“Si, she was the one following you. I’m not sure if she is the one killing people, but it’s likely. She’s volatile on a good day, but, in her defense, self-control would be difficult for any vampire who’d just spent three hundred years trapped in an attic.” His voice had a bit of an edge. “Being a newborn, it’s a wonder she even made it out alive. Some sort of magic surely aided her survival…” His voice trailed off, and I became immediately nervous by the mention of magic. “As for whether she’s the one biting your friends, who knows? All vampires bite people, Adele.”
“All? Even you?”
“What would happe
n to you if you stopped eating?”
“Sorry, stupid question. It’s just so hard to fathom that humans aren’t at the top of the food chain.”
“That’s because humans are arrogant.”
“And vampires aren’t?”
“Touché.” He smiled.
Blanche finished belting out the popular chorus, and I slowly began to lay my cards out on the table. “Earlier tonight, someone attacked me—”
“What?” he asked, leaning in. “Who? Were you hurt?” His eyes flickered.
“No, I’m fine. To be fair, it wasn’t really an attack.” I paused. “She jerked me unwillingly into an alleyway and demanded that I break a curse.”
His jaw tightened ever so slightly.
“She?”
“Yes, her face was hidden, but it was definitely a she. She was taller than me, and inhumanly strong. Elle est française, or at least she had a heavy French accent.”
“What exactly did she tell you?”
“She said if I didn’t break the curse that very bad things are going to happen in the Vieux Carré.”
He touched my fingers, trying to comfort me so I would continue.
“She said they would hurt every person I love… destroy my family.” My heart raced as he looked at me in silence. He was not happy. I had every intention of stopping there, but my tongue ran away from me. “Meaning that your family would destroy my family.”
His long pause warned me not to push it any further.
“That’s all she said?”
“Yes.”
He remained completely calm, but I could see that multiple scenarios were spinning through his mind.
“Do you think it was your blonde friend?”
His silence answered for him, which had a dizzying effect on me.
“Who is she? Is she dangerous?”
Silence.
It was as if he was trying to decide how much information to reveal, which only further frustrated me. He waited through another Mariah verse, but I refused to allow my eyes to wander. Then I saw the exact moment he gave in.
“Her name is… Liz. And all vampires are dangerous, Adele. All.”