by Ali Vali
“I would be happy to.” Kendal pushed Piper’s plate closer, cut one small piece, and held it up to her mouth.
One taste encouraged Piper to finish the plate, so Kendal enjoyed the silence that surrounded them. The only breaks came when she addressed or answered questions from her staff in whatever language they felt comfortable speaking.
“Would you excuse me for a moment? I’ll run up and throw some clothes on and drive you home, if you like.”
“What would you be doing if I hadn’t barged in on you with a police escort? I could call someone to give me a ride if you had plans.”
“I was going for a ride, but I’m sure Ruda won’t mind waiting until this afternoon since I have all the time in the world.” She stood up and cinched the belt on her robe tighter. “You’re free to do whatever will make you more comfortable, like calling someone else to drive you, but I really don’t mind.” Piper nodded and smiled.
“All set?” she asked a few minutes later, now dressed.
“Will you take me riding?” Piper leaned forward in her chair in a way that made Kendal think she was ready to debate the issue until she gave in.
“You like to ride?”
“No, but I thought I could ride with you.”
“That would require you to get really close to me.”
“I want to get on a horse with you, Kendal, not do the nasty. Come on, I have a rare morning off since I thought I’d be driving you to the hospital, and you still haven’t answered all my questions.”
“I’d love to.”
They walked to the stables with Piper looking around like she was trying to commit the grounds to memory in case this was her only opportunity on this side of the fence. Inside above the wide doors of the barn hung the St. Louis family crest Kendal had had made of copper years before. Charlie had relocated there from the house. Fixing and rearranging things around the property had kept him sane, she guessed, and some of his improvements such as the tile floors in the barn showed his growing craftsmanship.
Ruda had been brushed and stood in place clicking his heels and bobbing his head when he saw her. The stallion was a big boy, and Piper looked at Kendal with fear when she offered her a hand up after mounting. To make Piper feel more secure, Kendal placed her in front of her so she could hang on to her.
The gate opened for them as she led Ruda to the road, and Piper was clutching her forearms so tight, Kendal decided she would subject her only to a slow ride on the levee. She moved her arm to Piper’s waist as the horse clopped up the incline.
“Do you have something against saddles?”
“This is better for the horse, less cumbersome. Just relax and go with him.”
“Will you tell me about this place?” Piper squeezed her arm. “You didn’t say you didn’t know.”
“Very perceptive of you, Piper. What do you want to hear?”
“How did Oakgrove come to be?”
New Orleans, Spring 1721
Jacques stepped off the boat and looked around the busy port. Most of the moored vessels flew French colors, a good number of Spanish, and a sprinkling of others. Here among the pirates and settlers would be a good place to hide for a while and forget her responsibilities. She also craved to work for something that wasn’t born out of the privilege she’d known in France. Once her cover was secure, she could start searching for Abez, or Henri, as he called himself now.
“Carry your bags, monsieur?” asked one of the small boys hanging around looking for spare change.
It was a short carriage ride to the hotel, and one gold piece later she was walking with her new friend toward the stables. “Don’t you want to sleep, monsieur? That was a long voyage you just finished.”
“Sleep is for those who have time for it.” She patted his head and sent him back to the docks with his earned loot, glad that her disguise fooled at least a boy.
After a quick negotiation Jacques St. Louis bought his first new horse and rode out of town. On the way she passed the main auction blocks, where most had lost their minds to greed and inhumanity. She would deal with that issue later, since she wasn’t interested in anything now but being alone with her thoughts. Places like Paris and New Orleans were filled with the types of people she wanted to escape, so the countryside bordering the river was ideal.
She rode at a good clip until the sun went down, stopping at a general store with a stable where she spent the night to give the horse a break. The next morning she came to a clearing where the sun made the leaves on the new oak trees glimmer like they were wet. Immediately, she envisioned building a house there and making it her home.
Two weeks later she owned all the land that stretched from a large bayou to the north all the way to the river, plus the large lake at its center. During that trip to New Orleans to negotiate the land purchase, she’d also come back with Lola, her son Joseph, and Lionel to start building. The main house took a year, since that was all they worked on, and with Lola’s help, she returned frequently with more haggard people from the auction block and any of their relatives being sold that day.
Alone she couldn’t do away with the trade, but with Lola there talking to the ones who understood her as they came off the boats, they at least had the comfort of keeping together the family who’d survived the trip. Some, like Lionel, were highly suspicious of her at first, but after a few trips to town and seeing the whip scars across some of the men’s backs, he grew to trust her and gladly helped her and Lola add to their numbers.
By the time she and Lionel had come back from France and she met Angelina, Oakgrove was one of the largest and most profitable plantations in the South. And it was the only one in Louisiana where the farm’s cook, Lola, used the bedroom reserved for the lady of the house, with Jacques’s blessing.
New Orleans, present day
Kendal stopped Ruda and looked back in the direction of the house. The trees had grown, but the levee made it possible to still see the roofline. It looked so different than the first morning she’d stopped here, but she still felt the same. Oakgrove had been the first house she’d built from nothing. All the other estates had been someone else’s dream first, but not Oakgrove.
“The family history says that Jacques St. Louis stopped here one morning, seeing the potential others didn’t. Back then, the trees were smaller and there was no levee or road.”
Piper completely relaxed against her as she spoke. “It sounds like he was a man driven by what he wanted,” Piper said, moving slightly so she could turn around and look at her. “It seems to still be a dominant trait in his gene pool.”
Kendal smiled at Piper’s compliment and pointed to the house. “It took him only two weeks to purchase, rather cheaply, I understand, all the land now surrounded by the fences erected much later.”
“Was it all farmland?” Piper asked, turning around again so she could recline against her.
“Most of it, but some was left untouched for hunting.” Kendal pointed out the area with the largest trees and densest vegetation. “From the stories I’ve read, he purchased close to a thousand slaves, who helped him farm the land and erect the buildings you see.”
“What happened to them? I’ve read everything I could about this place, but because an extremely private family still owns it, no one knows for sure.”
“Are you asking because you plan to write your own book?” she asked, teasing.
“No. I can keep a secret.” Piper slapped her arm.
Kendal turned Ruda around so they could look out over the Mississippi. “After a tragic loss, the land and the house lost their appeal, so Jacques left for Europe but couldn’t stand parting with a place he’d come to love.”
“Do you mean after Angelina du’Pon died?” Piper asked, surprising her that she would’ve known the name.
“Yes, after Angelina and her uncle Tomas were killed, the dream of this place seemed to die with them.”
“What about the slaves he owned? The official record states the sheriff found no one when he arr
ived with his men a short time after Angelina died.”
“You really have read everything there is about the place,” Kendal said and laughed. “Jacques bought them off the auction blocks, but once they came to live here, the shackles were taken off and melted for farming tools. In his mind they were forever free and a part of his family. When he left, he let them all choose where to go.”
“How’d he move that many people that fast?”
“Jacques St. Louis was a resourceful man with plenty of friends who made their living at sea flying the Jolly Roger. With their help, he had boats brought here that sailed out in the afternoon, so they passed through New Orleans in the dead of night headed for Cuba, where his friends awaited his arrival.”
Kendal stared at the water, remembering arriving in Cuba and offering to take them home, if that was what they desired, so they could reunite with the families the slavers had stolen them from. After a night to think about it, the entire small fleet she’d hired in Cuba followed her to England, where they adapted well to country life, learning to farm and herd in a vastly different climate. Their disappearance, accomplished so quickly, helped keep the plantation intact when the stories of evil deeds and curses spread like wildfire. Only Lionel stayed behind to maintain the land and buildings, having free run of everything. The cabin he’d shared with his family had been his home ever since.
“What an honorable man.”
“He was someone who tried to do the right thing in evil times.”
“True, and he would be proud to see that too still runs in his bloodline.”
“I’m a thief, Miss Marmande, you said so yourself on more than one occasion. There’s nothing honorable about that.”
“There’s another old Southern tradition you forget,” Piper said, smiling. “A woman has the right to change her mind if she wants to.”
“I must be losing my touch if you’re starting to like me.”
“Oh, the shame of it all,” Piper said in her best Southern-belle accent and laughed.
It felt like sunshine to Kendal. Her laugh sounded so much like Angelina’s, but in reality, when Piper relaxed and let down her defenses, she was much more beautiful than Angelina on her best day. Because of that, Kendal felt the need to raise her own walls to protect her heart. She couldn’t bear to lose herself again; her vulnerability had come close to ruining her the last time. Piper wasn’t Angelina, but Kendal could easily fall for those green eyes if she allowed herself.
Chapter Eighteen
“Did you have a nice ride?” Charlie’s question clicked through the intercom in Kendal’s helmet and she glanced at him briefly.
“It’s not over, as far as I can tell.”
“Not this ride, and don’t try and change the subject.” He dropped his foot down as they reached the light at the bottom of the on-ramp to the interstate. “I saw how cozy that girl was up there with you.”
“Clear that cozy girl from your mind before we get any closer to the city. I won’t be responsible for the loss of any more innocents, and Piper Marmande’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself from here on out. Don’t count on seeing her again.”
“Who are you trying to convince, you or me?”
“Drop it, Charles, she’s history.” She took off in a roar.
They headed to the French Quarter, stopping near the St. Louis cemeteries. When Charlie opened his mouth to speak, she put her finger to her lips. The sun was dropping below the horizon, and the church employees had padlocked the gates to keep vagrants out.
She took a running leap and landed on top of the brick wall surrounding the place. It amused some who visited the city from places where people were buried in the ground and marked by a small stone or cross to see the elaborate silent cities the people of southern Louisiana erected to their dead, but they had their reasons. When the first settlers from France disembarked their boats, they insisted on continuing the traditions they’d practiced in their homeland for generations, and burying their loved ones was no different.
After the first wave of sick and old died, the loved ones placed them in the dark soil of the delta in their pine boxes and prayed over them. But when the first rains of spring and summer came, they popped out the ground like macabre fish corks and floated down the city streets. No matter how much weight was put over or in the coffins, rain caused them to float to the top, breaking through the dirt. After a couple of years of chasing bones down the alleyways of New Orleans, the citizens built fences around cemeteries to hem them in and began to construct tombs.
Kendal jumped again and landed on one of the taller mausoleums in St. Louis number one, which allowed her to see any movement in both cemeteries. The grave belonged to one of the older families in New Orleans, and generations of remains were probably stacked inside. At the top of the marble structure, a large cement angel lifted her arms to the heavens as if in awe of God. Her flowing robes cast a deep shadow and made an excellent hiding place, but Charlie, who had joined her, looked as if he didn’t know from what.
Kendal pressed her fingers to her lips, then pointed to her eyes and ears, motioning for him to watch and listen. Once the sky had turned dark and it was truly night, in less than twenty minutes they heard the first scraping of stone. She pressed her hand to Charlie’s knee. Those who hid in cemeteries, especially those under the protection and blessing of the church, were the old ones who didn’t respect what they called the superstition of organized religion and did everything to defy the Elders of the Genesis Clan. It took the best of their shamans to keep them under control.
These vampires were made before Jesus walked the earth spreading his message of salvation. But sometimes evil was just as capable of believing the diatribe of the church as its most faithful. Many young ones stayed away from the holy places, thinking the power of God would drive them into hell. The old ones knew better. Only warriors like Kendal had that power, and they were very real.
A tall bald man took the time to close the iron gate behind him as he stepped out to the walk circling the tombs in that section of the cemetery. He straightened his coat, which resembled Kendal’s. The pommel of his sword was visible for only a second as he whirled and lifted his nose to the air.
“What is it, Wadham?” asked a thin man who had emerged from a grave topped by two small stone cherubs.
“A unique scent in the air. It almost makes me want to feed.”
“We have no time for that. We must attend to the master’s wishes.”
“Don’t worry, Jonas, I know my duties.”
She watched them leave with incredible speed, joined by six others before the graveyard went silent.
“Who were those guys? They look different somehow,” Charlie said.
“Just remember the names, because they are different, and I can think of only one place where we can find out why.”
They left the bikes parked, and Charlie followed Kendal into the streets at the back of the Quarter. On Bourbon, an invisible line indicated the gay bars and establishments.
“Come on, Toto, you aren’t in Kansas anymore, so watch your ass,” she told Charlie, laughing as they entered a place called Oz. The music was blaring so loud the floor vibrated, and the dance floor barely had room for one more person.
“Why, are vampires in here?” Charlie yelled to be heard.
“Not the blood-sucking kind. I’m only warning you, since I think you look divine in those pants and so will every guy in here.” Kendal had barely finished when a cute guy wearing leather palmed Charlie’s butt and winked at him. She laughed and kept walking toward the bar.
*
“Tell me why we’re here again?” Hill asked Piper.
“I felt like having a beer,” Piper answered, watching Kendal navigate the crowd. Kendal seemed to have a multitude of personalities, and this one was the most intriguing yet.
“You felt like having a beer? Okay, tell me why we’re having a beer here?”
“Because I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”
“Fuss?” Hill moved closer to her.
“Nature gave us certain parts, so why would you want to mess with that? Take you, for instance. Don’t you ever wonder what it’s like to have a guy who knows what he’s doing show you what sex is all about?” Piper took a sip of her beer, watching two women dance together. She and Hill were sitting in the back corner away from the large speakers, so conversation wasn’t impossible, but they still had a good view of the whole room.
“I’ll answer that question if you answer one for me first.” Hill snapped her fingers to get her attention.
“What?”
“How many men have you slept with who know what they’re doing, and I mean in every category?”
“Category?”
“Oral and body-part utilization, as you put it.”
“Some.”
“I see. Well, I can tell you I’ve never met a woman who hasn’t been able to satisfy every need I have, and I mean every need, without fail. You find the idea repugnant, but you have no point of reference as to why. You should try it first before you make any sweeping statements.”
Piper looked away from Kendal and frowned at Hill. “I do not find it repugnant, I just don’t get it. There’s a difference. Nothing about women gets my motor running, so to speak. I mean, I can appreciate the female form, but I also admire pretty dogs. That doesn’t mean I want to sleep with one.” The label on the beer bottle finally lost the battle to her picking, and she crumpled it into a small ball. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“You’re just honest, Piper. Nothing’s wrong with that, but it still doesn’t explain why we’re here. We could find a more subdued place where folks of the same gender go to have a drink and hold hands, if you wanted to conduct a case study. This is the other end of the spectrum.”
Piper waved her hand toward the dance floor before she opened her mouth. “It just seemed primal. These people left any inhibitions they even thought of having at home.”