by D. M. Pratt
Eve would be back in New Orleans tomorrow and her plan was to tell Charles she wanted two weeks off. She needed the time to track what little information she had about Beau.
Thanks to a great GPS system, Eve found her way into town and to her hotel. The large, white Victorian porch was thick with vines and a host of fragrant flowers. Gardenia bushes bloomed and their glorious scent fought the honeysuckles for the honor of most fragrant. The wooden steps leading up to the porch were filled with mint-julep-drinking patrons all trying to escape the evening heat.
The magazine had taken care of everything and from the lavish welcome given by the polite woman at the front desk, Eve was being treated like a bit of a celebrity. They took her and her overnight bag up the tiny elevator. It was obviously installed a hundred years after the hotel was built. The metal cage opened and the pimply faced porter led her into her room. Eve gave him a ten, to which he beamed a braces-laden smile and thanked her.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” the young porter said. “Ya’ll have a good night.”
“You too,” Eve replied.
She let him out, locked the door and ripped her clothes off. Even the best cotton fabric can’t deal with humidity and don’t even think about wearing synthetic anything in this southern heat. She peeled her bra off and stepped out of her underwear never bothering to pick them up. She didn’t want anything touching her. It didn’t take long for Eve’s room to be cluttered with her things. She stood naked looking around at the ornate furniture, mirrors, books and crystal lamps. It was frozen in time with a decor that looked like Scarlett O’Hara might have been its designer. It was a large suite with a parlor and separate bedroom and grand arched windows. There was something romantic about the place except for the flowered chintz wall fabric that matched the curtains and the bed spread and two of the chairs. The fabric vomited red, pink, green and yellow everywhere. Normally, Eve would have become nauseous but tonight she was just too tired. She slipped into the bathroom, which had been totally updated, turned on the shower and stepped in. Eve allowed the delicious, cool water to wash over her body. She felt her muscles melt.
As she relaxed, her mind went to Beau, his lips on hers, his hands caressing her skin. Suddenly, something inside her said, he’s coming. She could feel it the way people with arthritis feel a rain storm before it hits. Eve reached for the talisman. It was gone. She’d taken it off when she peeled out of her clothes. She ripped the shower curtain open and there he was. Naked and ready and on her so fast she couldn’t speak. He smothered her mouth with a kiss, his tongue, slipping past her teeth, intertwined with hers. She felt him moving her back into the water. His hands were on the soap and all over her so fast she couldn’t protest. Whatever he was he was an amazing lover. He unpinned her hair and let it fall. He would his fingers through it and mounted her. With one graceful motion, he slipped inside of her. He was so hard, so full, she felt like a virgin experiencing her first time. He pressed into her crushing her against the porcelain tiles. He turned her around pulling her under the water. She could feel his stomach against her back. The cool velvet of the water washed over them as he rinsed the soap from her skin. His fingers slipped into every opening she had. Then he turned her around, kissed her and at the same time lifted her as if she weighed nothing, slipping into her again. Eve heard the water stop and felt the towel wrap around her as he carried her into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed.
“My God, you are magnificent,” he told her.
His eyes were filled with such passion, his words so sincere; he looked as if he were having a religious experience. There was a gentle sweetness in his every movement. He crawled on top of her and slipped inside. Eve arched and he repeated the action again and again and again. He twisted himself deeper, holding her hips and pulling himself into her body as if he were trying to climb inside. In one perfect motion, he slipped his body under her and she was on top. She felt like she was riding a wild stallion, holding on to his hair for her life. His hands guided her hips. Her body tingled, electric, more alive and yet something else was happening. She felt a strange numbness flooding through her as if something was taking her over. The room started spinning. The soft glow of the lights from the parlor dimmed as did the music that wafted in from outside.
She was losing more than consciousness. She was losing herself.
“Beau, stop,” Eve said struggling to get the words out.
He switched position so fast she lost track of where she was. Eve looked up. She was on her back again and he was on top. Beau’s breathing intensified as he pounded into her building speed with each powerful thrust. Eve felt a rush of pain followed by a wave of pleasure. Her body wanted to release to whatever it was that had her but something in her fading consciousness said, Don’t do it. Make him stop.
“Stop! You’re …killing… me,” Eve said, sure she was screaming but the words were barely whispered.
He bit her nipple and started to suck on her. She could feel her essence leaving her like milk to a newborn. He grabbed her other breast and switched, his warm mouth sucking, drinking her until Eve started to orgasm. Her back arched and he rose over her and plunged deeper into her. She was losing herself.
She turned her head and there on the nightstand, partially hidden by the hotel menu was the talisman. She reached over and grabbed the talisman. Eve shoved it into his face pressing it into his cheek. It seared into his skin, burning him. He called out in pain. In that instant, everything changed. The handsome man that had been driving her into a fit of passion turned into what Eve could only describe as the devil himself: Burgundy red glowed beneath his flesh skin, yellow eyes, leathery bat-like wings hung from his back like a cape, a snake’s tongue, cloven hooves and a huge tail on the wrong side of his body. She screamed from the shock. The creature backed off as she held the talisman between them.
The hideous face hissed at her like a cat. For a moment she saw Beau struggling to take over.
“Get out,” Eve said still holding the talisman like a cross between them.
“Help me,” a flash of Beau appeared and said.
“She’s mine,” Eve heard another voice… a different voice say.
It was disembodied, distant, there but not there, dark and horrifying and then they were gone.
There was a frantic pounding on the front door of the suite.
“Are you all right in there?” a man’s voice shouted from outside the front door of the suite.
Eve struggled to her feet and pulled the robe around her. Her legs were weak, her head was still spinning. She looked and saw blood running down her leg.
“I…I’m fine,” she said as she reached the parlor and opened the door. Eve peeked out.
There were several faces that stood in the hallway. All with very confused expressions. All there to rescue her.
“You screamed and…” he started to say.
“It was… a bad dream. I’m so sorry. I’m fine,” she said.
“You’re sure you’re alright?” he asked again looking into the room. “It sounded like a man screaming as well.”
“Only a very bad nightmare,” Eve said. “My apologies.”
“Well, if I can get you anything,” he said still trying to look into the room.
Eve let the door hang open all the way for a moment more so he could see and assure himself his concerns were unwarranted. The man nodded, convinced she was alone and alright and, buzzing between themselves with questions, they disbanded. No one saw the thin trickle of blood that crawled down her calf and onto her foot like a tiny red river or, if they did, they said nothing.
Eve closed the door and felt a rush of weakness shudder though her body. She held the handle, found her balance and walked to the bathroom. There, slowly and gently she cleaned the blood from between and down her legs. The small white porcelain sink filled with red. Slowly Eve looked up at her face in the mirror. She was pale and gaunt but she was there. Her eyes dropped down to the little talisman necklace that hung from her neck. It had
saved her life. The bathroom lights caught several of the crystal beads and it seemed to sparkle at her saying, It’s alright, I’m here. I’ll protect you.
She promised herself she would never again take off the talisman. Eve opened the plush terry cloth robe and examined her body. She was a beautiful woman, full busted with a curve on her hips and a nice butt. There were no lacerations that she could see but perhaps a trip to her gynecologist was in order. Evine Toussaint she thought. The strange woman with different color eyes had warned and protected her and whether Eve liked it or not, she needed to speak to her. Whatever it was she experienced in that room was not of this realm and it was way, way out of her league.
Eve went back into the bedroom and stood at the door. There was blood on the bottom sheets. Not a lot but enough. She took the sheet and washed it too. The idea of sleeping in the room where that “thing” had appeared on top of her made her shiver. She opted to bypass the bedroom and curled up on the sofa. Eve lay holding herself, thinking, trying not to see the image that flashed back into her mind like a freight train. She was torn by the horror with demon eyes and then, the face of Beau, his impassioned plea for help and how the two illusions struggled when Beau fought to show himself to her. The entire situation was not on any reality chart she could comprehend. Maybe this was all a very real hallucination. Maybe… she was losing her mind.
“Forget the GYN, doll, you need a shrink,” she said to herself. “And if you tell anyone the men in white coats will take you away. Now stop talking to yourself and get some sleep,” she said and pulled the covers over her head.
But as her exhausted body fell into a fitful sleep her mind would not rest. She knew the events were more than mere hallucinations; she felt Beau, she saw “IT” and she was bleeding real blood. Right? Frustrated, Eve reached up to turn out the light when she saw something gold on the floor catch in the light. She stared at it for a long moment trying to make out what it was. Finally, she stood and walked across the room. Bending down, she picked up a gold ring. It was a man’s ring; a simple band but not a wedding band, a family heirloom of some kind. A carved, murky red stone snuggled into the well worn metal. It wasn’t a ruby. It was a semi precious stone, muddy and orangish-red with an emblem. She’d seen the stone before but could not remember what it was called. But the emblem looked like a family crest, a piece of a shield with the carved head of a lion, but the details had been worn over time. Eve brought the ring closer to the light and looked inside. There were initials. BGLM.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Eve stood outside of Evine’s shop staring at the sign that hung in the window. It read: “CLOSED.” She breathed in the air. It felt heavy, thick with the scent of herbs, tobacco and whiskey. The sound of an old Muddy Waters blues song wafted up from the bar a few doors away heralding that life as usual moved forward unaware of her ordeal. The garish glow from the bar’s sign splattered neon colors of green, yellow, orange and red on the walls of the surrounding buildings and bled light into the hazy darkness. The low evening fog hung in the air like a shadowy cloak making the situation creepier than ever. Other than that, the street was empty.
Eve reached out and touched the glass, still warm from where the sun had laid her fiery touch against it all afternoon. She wanted to know what to do. The answers were inside with Evine. Something in her heart told her what she needed was inside some old book covered in dust, written at a time when knowledge about such things as demons called incubi were accepted reality. More important, when people knew their reality, respected it and what to do about it.
“She said you would come back,” a small voice said.
Eve looked in the direction of the voice, but saw no one. “She said she can’t help you, but I know she can,” a small voice said.
Eve followed the voice again, and there, near the corner of the building, a child with riveting black eyes stared up at her. She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. She was tall and thin for her age. Her dark skin and long black braids caught the light from the streetlamps in an almost reflective way. Her features were so sweet and beautiful; for a moment, Eve could only stare. Finally she spoke.
“She has to help. Can you take me to her?” Eve asked.
The little girl stared back with a calm even stare that seemed to take everything in. Eve felt she was being judged not only by the child, but also by some deep well of wisdom that hung behind her eyes.
“Please,” Eve said. “I have nowhere else to turn.”
The little girl said nothing, turned and walked away. She stopped, then looked around and over her shoulder.
“Are you coming?” the little girl asked as she nodded for her to follow.
Eve stepped out catching up to the child as she led her down a series of dark streets. Her small form shifted through the glare of white, green and yellow neon lights that flickered down from the various establishments they passed. Eve listened as their footsteps fell against the ancient wooden walkways. The click, click, click echoed in counterpoint as their shoes tapped against the dry wood. Occasionally she noticed the shop windows they passed, filled with old curios from another time or tourist junk made in China, all elements to evoke memories of New Orleans’ less popular step sister, Old Algiers and her mostly forgotten past: pirates and kings, Indians and Voodoo Queens, spices and chicory coffee, Tabasco pepper sauce and books filled with recipes for jambalaya, Po’Boy sandwiches, etouffée, pecan pie and bread pudding with creamy whiskey sauce. Every other door was a tiny restaurant or café or bar and the exotic smells of food and whiskey wafted on the hot night air and blended with the fine evening fog that gathered in patches across the ground at her feet.
Occasionally they would pass a smattering of locals gathered to share the breath of cool air that came with the darkness. The people they passed made Eve think of an artist’s pallet smudged with the hues of a hundred colors of humanity. These people, even more so than the ones in New Iberia, represented the true melting pot of America. Louisiana, since its birth, had openly crossed and blended the color lines, mixing ethnicities like a savory soup with different grades of hair from coarse, to curly or straight, velvet black or winter blonde and eyes in every shade from sky blue against chocolate skin or bottomless brown pools peering from olive complexions and mysterious green eyes set in skin so pale white or so black it was burgundy or inky blue. Add to that the colors of their clothes and Mardi Gras wasn’t waiting until winter this year, it was here…now.
As they traveled Eve listened to the music weave its way from the bars into the street. It would change from place to place but inside you could always hear the piano, guitar, slappy bass, whining trumpets or harmonica and sometimes a sultry, whiskey voice cry out the blues or snap out the rhythmic beat of swing playing in counterpoint to the intricate melodies and woven harmonies that jumbled together and exploded into jazz.
She studied the small groups of locals clustered together, talking in hushed tones and occasionally bursting into loud gales of laughter as they shared their lives with one another. But the oddity wasn’t how each glanced up to check her out. A few nodded politely, one or two of the sleazier men beckoned her to come over and join them, but all their expressions shifted when they noticed her small traveling companion. Once they saw the child they withdrew, knowing something she obviously did not.
“Is it much farther?” Eve asked. “I have my car.”
“Car can’t go to Madam Toussaint,” the child said.
The child turned a corner and the city vanished as before them stood the gates of an immense and ancient cemetery. Eve’s skin crawled. This was truly something out of a bad horror film. Her sane, logical mind implored Are you crazy! Do not step one foot inside there! Eve hesitated. Her heart knew this was the only way to end what had begun.
Without looking back the little girl said, “No use being afraid of this old place; where you got to go and what you got to do is what you need ta be scared of.”
Eve carefully watched as the young child qui
ckly walked in and out of the shadows and streaks of light cast across the massive city of tombstones and crypts stretched before her. The monuments stood in neat rows, their precise, tight order broken only by the sad, bent branches of huge, moss covered weeping willows that grew in and around the white washed graves. The tombs stood so still and erect, like soldier guardians set to keep this city of the dead safe from marauding evil spirits. Crypts and mausoleums were concrete bunkers built above the swampy marsh to preserve the remains of the dead and mark the existence of someone who had lived and needed to be remembered. The white light of a partially full moon reflected its silvery fingers through the leaves and branches, cutting through the low hanging mist and jutting its luminous glow through the walkways that separated the tombs, statues and mausoleums. The moonlight played with shades of cool blue and misty grey, bathing every stone in her light then abandoning her radiance to the blackness of shadow, keeper of the silent secrets of the dead.
Eve walked quickly, keeping one eye on the young girl while with the other she glanced at the sad stone faces of angels and guardians protecting the long forgotten souls. Sometimes she could see the words carved into the stones now worn and faded by the passing years, REST IN PEACE, IN LOVING MEMORY, DIED TOO YOUNG, some dating back as far as the 1700’s.
Died too young, Eve thought. That could be me if I don’t forget about this guy and get the hell out of here! I can’t believe this child is out here alone, I don’t even know her name. And how the hell am I supposed to get back to my car!