by E G Bateman
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lexi and Scott entered the Museum of Death. He shivered and she felt his disquiet.
The same man they’d seen on the night of the break-in was behind the cash register with his back to her.
She walked to the counter. “I heard the boss is back.”
The guy turned. “You just missed him. He’s freaking out about the mix-up.”
“The mix-up?”
“You don’t know?” He led them to the back of the building. The cabinet had been replaced and she crossed to it quickly. Marie Laveau’s picture was still in place but now, beneath it, was a label stating, Marie Laveau’s ring. Beside it rested a shiny ring with a blue stone.
Her eyes wandered to the picture of a stern-looking woman beside Marie’s picture and read the label in front of the picture, Marie Delphine LaLaurie’s ring. There was a space where the ring should be.
“Exactly.” He released an exasperated breath.
Lexi raised an eyebrow. “Am I to assume she stole the wrong ring?”
“It looks that way. We need to get the other one back and without delay, obviously. Here’s a picture of the ring we’re looking for.”
She looked at the image and the woman’s photograph again. She wasn’t about to admit that she didn’t know who she was either. “Obviously. Well, no time like the present.”
They stepped outside and Scott shook himself as if to loosen anything that might have clung to him. “I hope I never have to go back in there again.”
“Stop. Please—wait,” a voice called.
They turned to see a couple walking hurriedly toward them.
The woman held a toddler in her arms. “Have you seen her? We’ve looked everywhere.”
Lexi blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Aggie. She was supposed to find you and take you to the detective, then come straight home.”
She stepped closer to respond, but the woman stepped back.
Why the hell are these people so afraid of Kindred?
“She delivered us to Broullard maybe an hour and a half ago. I didn’t see her after that.”
The man felt in his pocket and pulled a little doll out. “She always comes back. This is very unusual. I’m worried. Can you find her for us? We don’t want to bother you—”
“It’s fine. That’s what we’re here for.” Scott attempted to take the doll, but the man jerked his arm away.
His eyes narrowed and he watched the sorcerer suspiciously. “Who are you?”
Lexi interjected before her friend could share his name. “He’s with me. I’m training him.” What the hell. It worked with Broullard.
After a moment, the man passed the doll to Scott. The sorcerer muttered a few words and began to walk.
Agatha’s parents followed but remained a short distance behind as though they didn’t want to be seen with them. That was fine with Lexi.
At her signal, her friend created a barrier around them.
He nodded to confirm it was safe to speak and she wasted no time. “Do you any idea who Marie Darlene—”
“Marie Delphine LaLaurie,” he interrupted.
“Great, you know her.”
“No, I merely have a better memory than a goldfish—or you.”
Lexi sighed. “We need to know who she is. Can you look it up?”
She took the doll from him and felt its pull as it sought its owner.
Scott scrolled through his cell. “Okay, Marie Delphine LaLaurie. Born 1787, died 1849… Oh. Oh, dear. As soon as we’ve found Agatha, we need to make finding that ring our number one priority.”
When she glanced at him, his face was pale. “You will have to give me more information than that, you know.”
His gaze remained fixed ahead. “A rich lady of the city who tortured, experimented on, and butchered her slaves.”
“Slaves! Jamal, Ambrose, and Tyrone were all African American.”
“Exactly.”
Lexi halted and turned to him. “So we have the spirit of a racist psychopath running around the city.”
He sighed.
“Well, fuck!” She scratched her head and scowled.
Scott continued to read. “There’s some sick stuff in here, but it says most of it is probably only urban myths.”
“You saw what she did to Jamal. Do you think what she did was mythical?”
They increased their speed.
“We must have walked ten blocks. Where the hell is she?”
The doll tugged. “Okay, we’re turning here.” Lexi looked back. Agatha’s parents were still about twenty paces behind them.
Her friend was still reading. “It says here that she’s buried in St. Louis Cemetery Number One. Oh, or Paris.”
They crossed Bourbon Street with its busy bars and restaurants and continued.
She tried to think what their next move should be. “Where did she live while she was here? Could the building still be standing?”
“Looking… A big mansion. The LaLaurie mansion. It’s a nice-looking place. They say it’s haunted.”
Lexi shook the doll. “No shit. Wait, it’s stopped pulling.” She looked around for signs of Agatha.
Scott looked up from his screen. “Lexi?”
“What is it?”
He held the cellphone up so she could see. It showed a picture of the LaLaurie mansion. When he lowered his arm, she stared at the same building directly in front of her.
They turned to Agatha’s parents. The horror on their faces confirmed that they knew exactly where they were.
As she returned the doll to the girl’s stricken mother, her husband bolted across the street and through the open side gate.
“Wait.” Scott ran after him.
Lexi looked at her scar, which was empty again. She turned to follow but a flicker of movement drew her attention. Joseph had appeared—from thin air, as usual—and pointed up. Her gaze followed and she muttered an expletive when a third-story window shattered and a sheet of material rolled from it. Agatha climbed out after it.
Her mother gasped. Lexi glanced at the woman, who put her hand to her mouth. Her eyes flashed from brown to gold and back to brown and she obviously fought the urge to shift. She stood on a public street and would incur a Kindred death sentence if she shifted. Fortunately, she held her son so would resist the instinct.
Agatha started to climb down the fabric but had only managed to descend about a foot from the window ledge when Cora appeared at the window. She thrust her hand out holding a knife, the ring clearly visible. With a cruel smile, she sliced the tenuous lifeline. It tore the rest of the way and the child fell.
Her mother screamed.
“No!” Lexi raced forward from the opposite corner with her arms out as though she might catch her, but she was too far away.
A moment later, she landed on her knees with the weight of the twelve-year-old girl who had translocated now in her arms. She huffed at the impact and her elbows and knees scraped painfully. The girl sat and threw her arms around her. A moment later, she saw her mother, scrambled to her feet, and ran to her.
Lexi tried to stand but fell back. The translocation had taken everything, even the strength in her muscles. But Scott had run into a building with a psychopath waiting. She wasn’t about to let him die. Joseph extended his hand to her. She initially thought he was offering to pull her up, but he slipped something into her hand.
A little bemused, she looked into her open palm at a stone with sigils painted onto it.
“This has power,” he said.
She looked up to ask what kind of power but of course, he was gone.
Come on then, power stone. Help me get off my ass.
Lexi tried to stand again, and as she wobbled, arms came around her and raised her to her feet. Energy pulsed into her muscles and she turned to Anne Bird and her daughter Sam.
She nodded her thanks to them and ran through the gate and into the house. Inside, there was blood on the floor. She yanked her katana out and glanced at her scar.
Scott’s magic was completely drained and she couldn’t understand how she had been able to use it to save Agatha. He still wasn’t close enough to replenish it.
You’re a disappointment, she told the stone in her left hand, shook it, and flipped it in the air.
Her senses alert, she crept through the house and her soft-soled boots made no sound on the tiled floor.
When she rounded the staircase to the second floor, she found Tyrone’s head on a plinth. She paused to listen for any indication of where Scott might be. With the choice of a long hallway or the stairs to the next story, she looked from one to the other. When she returned her gaze to the hallway, a black wolf stared at her. Agatha’s dad, obviously, and that made her decision easy. The wolf had cleared that level. She nodded and moved to the stairs. Before she headed up, she looked at him and whispered, “She’s okay. She’s out front.”
Lexi reached the next level and immediately saw Scott walk out of a room ahead of her. He jumped at the sight of her and she smirked and rolled her eyes. After a less than polite hand gesture, he pointed to the opposite hallway to indicate that she should check it. He turned right and made his way to the end of the hallway. As he opened the door, Lexi stopped and turned. He entered a bright, sunny room where Amy sat in the middle of the floor.
What the hell is she doing here?
Scott hurried to the girl, crouched beside her, and checked her vitals. Even from this distance, it was obvious that she was catatonic again.
A shape broke away from the shadows and approached him from behind. It was Cora, and she held the knife. Lexi broke into a run and slid her hand into her pocket to pull out a gun or throwing knife.
Cora’s brainwashed. I can’t kill her for that.
She felt the weight of the stone in her other hand. This will do. It would distract her for the seconds she needed. She threw the stone at the woman and it was a perfect shot and caught her squarely in the temple.
What she hadn’t anticipated was the explosion. It wasn’t loud, but a bright flash followed immediately by a wet whoosh left Scott, Amy, the room, and part of the hallway covered in a coat of red.
Lexi, who had barely reached the entrance, skidded to a halt in the blood. Her jaw hung open in shock at the devastating transformation of the view before her. She shook her head several times while wet gore dripped from the ceiling. Cora had been completely obliterated.
“Wh…wh…wh.” Scott finally gave up.
His body had protected Amy from the worst of it although, as she had suspected, the girl had zoned out again. Small mercies. The sorcerer stood holding his arms away from his body. “This is so bad.”
Rivulets of red ran from his hair into a gap in the back of his collar. He turned slowly and stared at her.
“It’s not my fault. It was the stone—I didn’t know it would do that.” She stopped speaking under the intensity of his withering stare.
“Why is it always me?” Scott’s voice was a squeak.
Lexi giggled. It was involuntary and she clamped her jaw until the compulsion left her. “Can’t you whoosh it somewhere else like you did in Palm Springs?”
He sighed. “It’s different magic. I have no fucking idea what you did.”
“She was coming up behind you with a blade but I was trying to avoid killing her.”
“That went well,” he snipped.
She stared around the red room. “Can you see the ring?”
“Are you looking at this room?” He waved his hand wildly. “She and everything on her is liquid. It must have been on her but there’s no way to find it now.” He sighed and looked at the catatonic girl. “Let’s take Amy to the apartment. We can clean her up and try to unfuck her brain before her parents see her.”
The sorcerer incanted a glamor so he and Amy could walk through New Orleans without horrifying the citizens. They stepped onto the street.
Agatha came running and put her arms around Lexi. “Are you okay?” She looked at Scott. “You smell bad.”
Lexi waved her hand in front of her face. “Phew! I know—boys, right?”
The youngster laughed while she pretended to be oblivious to Scott’s scowl.
The parents headed away with their daughter while the two friends made their way to the apartment with Amy.
The girl gazed fixedly ahead and required nothing more than his hand on her back to direct her. Within a few blocks, they were at the apartments, where Betsy and Lexi removed Amy’s blood-soaked clothes and Scott threw them into the washer with his own. The young woman simply stood staring into who knew what while they wrapped her in Betsy’s gown. The two women left her there, still in a daze, and stepped into the bathroom.
Betsy washed the blood from her hands. “Will Scott be able to bring her out of this?”
Lexi directed her to a towel before washing her hands. “Possibly. I think we should let her rest while her clothes are cleaned, then Broullard can take her. It’s a good thing Scott took most of that. Otherwise, we’d be washing it out of her hair.”
The other woman frowned. “How will we encourage her to rest? Could we poke her to topple her onto the bed?”
She threw the towel into the bath. “I think you’ve spent way too much time with Dick.”
They entered the bedroom to find Amy curled in the bed with her eyes closed.
“I’ll be honest, that was easier than I expected.” She looked at Betsy. “I need to speak to Scott.”
“That’s fine. Leave her with me. I’ll read my book and stay close.”
They walked up the hall and the older woman settled into an armchair while she headed across to the other apartment.
Dick passed her a coffee as she entered. “All quiet?”
“Yes. Betsy’s reading and Amy’s sleeping. How’s Scott?” She blew on her drink before she took a sip.
“I’m here and I’m fine.” He walked into the room in shorts with his blond hair in damp waves.
Lexi sniffed and looked toward the kitchen. “What’s that smell?”
“I incinerated my clothes.” He took a mug from Dick.
“I’m sorry about the…I don’t even know what to call that.” She grimaced.
“Deconstruction?” the vampire suggested helpfully.
“It’s as good a word as any.” Scott shrugged.
She studied him anxiously. He looks traumatized.
The vampire sat and Marcel jumped into his lap. He looked at her. “I guess you’re back on track with your investigation into the photograph. I’ll pay a visit to this Lorenzo chap and see if we can have a heart-to-heart about his manners.”
“I’ll come and watch your back. Scott, I think you should rest.”
The sorcerer nodded. He scrolled and tapped on his cell while he extended his arm across the counter to her. She slid her hand into his to refill the magical energy.
Dick smirked at them. “A picture of domestic bliss.”
They both flipped him the bird.
The vampire put Marcel onto the floor and went to the door. “I’ll get ready, then.”
After a few minutes, she finished her coffee and thumped Scott’s shoulder. “Get some rest.”
Scott watched as Lexi left the apartment. He returned his gaze to his cell and typed.
I know where that is. I can meet you there in twenty minutes.
Quickly, he dressed, looked in on Betsy, and headed out of the building and down the street. Moments later, he turned left onto Bourbon street and walked several blocks until he reached a small eatery. He looked at the sign—Nola Po’boys—and entered. The unassuming establishment was rumored to sell some of the best local dishes in New Orleans. He ordered a catfish po’boy to go, put his bag down, and took a seat in a booth opposite an unhealthy looking man who fidgeted with a package. “Is this it?”
The man nodded but made no other movement.
He waited for a response before he prompted, “Can I see it?”
After a furtive glance around the room, his companion slid the package
across the table. Scott looked inside and smiled. He squeezed the contents in his hand and his smile broadened. He passed some folded notes across the table. “That’ll do nicely.”
The stranger snaked his hand out and the money was gone. He stood and left without a backward glance.
The sorcerer glanced around, sure that no one was watching. He took the item from its packaging and pushed it into his bag—or more precisely, into a specific room in his dimensional pocket. The server brought his po’boy and he left to walk to the apartment.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The women spoke in hushed tones as they retreated along the hallway. The apartment door opened and closed.
Marie Delphine LaLaurie opened her eyes.
She raised a finger to her face and slipped it into her mouth. When she removed it, she wore the ring.
Delphine had known the importance of the ring instantly. When she gazed at it through the young girl’s eyes, she knew it to be hers. She remembered scrubbing dried blood from the claws around the stones after an evening’s entertainment at the mansion. Her brows lowered at the thought of what had once been her stronghold. She hadn’t recognized the mansion when she returned as Cora and Amy. Everything was different—everything was different everywhere. The only things that hadn’t changed were the toys. Their screams sounded exactly as she remembered them.
With a small smile, she rolled onto her back and stretched her arms into the air. Amy’s skin was pale and young. It made her recall her life before and how her skin had begun to loosen and wrinkle with age but now, it was young again. She rose from the bed and studied the slight form in the mirror.
The girl was too skinny—was she sick? She thought about some of the games she’d played in that slender body. They should have been difficult with her scrawny little arms, but she was filled with a power she’d never experienced before. Taking the boy’s spine had been easy. Cora had been even stronger but she liked Amy’s delicate features more. She opened the robe. The girl wasn’t perfect, though. Her breasts were too small.
She touched the face and thought about the shock on it when she approached Amy outside her apartment as Cora, held a knife to her throat, and forced her to put the ring on. For a moment, she’d considered leaving the older woman in the street with the knife in her gut, but they were so pliant after she’d taken them over that it didn’t hurt to keep her around.