by Cd Hussey
In silence, the two studied the tomb a while longer. The woman finally wandered off with a few mumbled parting words, and Julia was left alone at the grave.
She picked up a lipstick. Whether or not it would help anything, it certainly couldn't hurt. But what sort of favor should she ask for? There were so many options, love, health, real happiness...maybe she could combine a couple.
Mistress Marie, please let me survive my flight home to find true love.
With the lipstick, she started drawing the X's. On the second one, she pressed just a little too hard and her lipstick line became a huge, pink lipstick blob. Shit. If the X's weren't drawn correctly, would the request be denied? Or worse, would it piss off the Voodoo Queen enough that she made sure the opposite came true?
Julia wasn't about to tempt fate. Carefully, she tried to draw out the blob into a line, first with the lid to the lipstick container and then when that failed, resorted to her finger. When she'd finally made a satisfactory attempt, she very carefully drew the last X and stepped back to observe her work.
Well, they weren't perfect X's, but they were recognizable at least.
"You do realize that's illegal," a deep voice purred in her ear.
Julia's heart and stomach exchanged places. She spun around startled, knowing exactly who she'd find. A hundred years wouldn't erase the memory of that voice.
Armand was grinning at her, his long, sharp canines gleaming brightly in the gloomy light. He was even paler than she remembered, and better looking. Wearing a tall crowned, black suede hat, and tailored, knee length military coat with the collar flipped up, his dark hair brushed his broad shoulders in soft curls, and his hazel eyes were fixated on her with that unnerving intensity.
Oh God, she was alone, in the most frightening place on earth, with this dangerous, gorgeous stranger. She'd wanted to see him again, but not here, not like this.
Why was he even here? Had he followed her? Maybe her attraction to him was clouding her judgment and he wasn't as innocent as she imagined. She should've gone to the police while she had the chance.
"Did I frighten you?" His tone was amused.
That was the understatement of the century.
But there was nothing threatening about his body language, nothing overtly suspicious about the way he stood nonchalantly before her, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his black wool coat. In fact, he appeared genuinely pleased to see her.
She had to make a quick decision. Either she give into her neurotic fears and run for her life, or give him the benefit of the doubt and treat him like any other man she'd met and didn't believe might be a serial killer vampire.
She laughed nervously as her decision was hastily made. "A little." Running probably wouldn't help anyway. He looked fast.
He chuckled. "Well, I apologize. You were lost in thought and entirely too easy to sneak up on."
Her thumping heart pressed painfully against her eardrums. Treat him like a normal guy. Don't show fear. Stand tall. Be strong.
She swallowed hard and attempted to appear as cool and relaxed as he was. It was like meeting a Grizzly bear on a wooded trail and saying 'what's up?' instead of screaming.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the suspicion out of her voice.
"Like you, I came to ask Marie for a favor. But..." his eyes swept over her, "it's already been granted."
She felt a blush creep into her cheeks. He meant her. "Oh."
How was it possible to be scared of him and attracted to him at the same time?
"Instead of defacing a historical tomb," he grinned at her, "why don't we properly make your request? What was the favor you sought?"
Treat him like any other guy. Treat him like any other guy.
Oh, and breathe.
Following the advice scrolling through her brain, she took a few calming breaths. She'd been arguing his innocence all day and here she was freaking out because he happened to show up at the same place she was. "Um, I asked to survive my flight home," she told him after a thick swallow reopened her throat.
"Alright." He stepped past her with that graceful slink of his. He even smelled delicious, a mixture of spice and something earthy she couldn't quite place.
Knocking three times on the tomb with crisp, deliberate blows, he drawled, "Marie Laveau, most powerful and generous Voodoo Queen, please make sure the beautiful Julia has a safe flight home." Pulling out a small bottle of Grand Marnier from his coat pocket, he handed the unopened bottle to her and indicated she take a drink.
With uncertain hands she cracked the plastic seal and took a small sip. She wasn't normally a Cognac fan, but this was good, smooth and sweet, with a slight hint of orange. She handed the bottle back to Armand. He placed it with the other items in front of the tomb, and then pulled out three coins and set them on the bottle.
Letting her curiosity overpower her fear, she asked, "So, the three knocks, X's and coins, do they really represent the Holy Trinity?" She watched his reaction carefully, wondering if he would respond to the mention of the Church.
Why, because he was an undead, unholy vampire?
Of all the stupid-
"That's an interesting theory," Armand replied, his smooth voice slicing through the clatter in her brain. "Three is a strong number in Voodoo because of the power it brings to an incantation, but I've never really stopped to think why three in particular. I suppose it could represent the Trinity." He certainly didn't appear to be bothered by the topic of religion, and she felt silly for thinking it in the first place.
This was good. This was fine. They were simply having a normal, perfectly innocent conversation in the middle of a crumbling cemetery.
"New Orleans Voodoo and Catholicism are strongly linked," he continued. "And Marie Laveau was a devout Catholic."
"Really?"
Armand gave her a sly smile. "Oh, you'd be surprised how many dabblers in the darker arts are Catholic. I am, after all. I may no longer take Communion and it's been ages since I attended Mass, but I am Confirmed and according to the Church, that's supposed to last a lifetime. Of course," he went on, tossing a wink at her. "If I ever make it to confession again, the poor priest is going to be there all night. I might have to bring him an espresso."
She laughed. "I'm not Catholic in the least, but I imagine my confession wouldn't be much shorter."
He leveled his hazel gaze on her. "I'd love to hear all about what dark secrets you need to confess."
For a long moment she was trapped by his stare, while crows sang their sweet tune overhead, and the misty breeze kissed her skin. Like their encounter at La Luxure the previous night, it was too much and Julia had to look away.
Clearing her throat, and hopefully her head, she asked, "What do the X's represent?"
"From what I've read, the X is an African symbol representing the junction between life and death, but...it's also how Marie Laveau signed her name. So, by marking the X's on the tomb, or preferable, knocking," giving her a sidelong glance, he emphasized the word heavily, "you are calling to the dead in a language she can recognize."
"It was just lipstick."
"I think I can forgive you this one sin."
"Well, isn't that kind of you."
With the smooth, easy flow of conversation and flirtatious banter, Julia forgot to be scared of him. If the encounter wasn't so weird, it would feel perfectly normal.
The sun suddenly broke through the clouds on its decent below the horizon and Armand winced, turning his face away from the light. He adjusted his position until he stood in the tomb's shadow.
Add "aversion to sun" to the list of his suspicious behaviors.
The fear rushed back, sending her heart into a flurry of activity and her brain into cartwheels. She was so confused. Every nerve in her body was giving her conflicting messages.
"It looks like our daylight hours are limited, and this isn't the best neighborhood to be in after dark," he said. "Let me walk you back."
&
nbsp; At this point, she wasn't sure if walking alone with him was a safe alternative to being alone in a not so great neighborhood. She glanced around, looking for an escape. Maybe when there were more people around she'd be happy to continue their conversation, but there were too many unanswered questions for her to feel safe strolling alone with him down the narrow, dark, French Quarter streets.
"Um, no, don't worry about it." She took a step away. "I'm fine. My hotel isn't too far from here." She took another step. "I mean, I grew up in St. Louis, and it consistently makes the top 10 most dangerous cities list. I should be fine." Her nerves were making her ramble.
"I insist," he said firmly. A subtle darkness had washed over his features. He must've picked up on her hesitation and wasn't pleased about it. The last thing she wanted to do was piss him off. You don't poke a Grizzly bear with a stick and you don't piss off a man of questionable intent. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."
It was an odd statement, the content of which could imply a million things. He did seem genuinely concerned, but he'd appeared concerned about Eve the night before and now she was dead. Then again, if he'd wanted to hurt her, he'd already had ample opportunities. They'd been alone in an isolated cemetery for a while now.
Was there something else walking the streets of New Orleans she should worry about? Besides Armand? Besides the drunks?
This raging battle of "am I scared or not" that was going on in her tired brain was giving her a massive headache.
She forced air into her lungs. It was all about giving him the benefit of the doubt. She'd decided that already. "Alright then. Thanks, Armand. I do appreciate it."
His expression softened and he motioned for her to lead the way.
"What hotel are you staying at?" he asked as they emerged from the walled cemetery.
That definitely wasn't information she was comfortable sharing. "It's near Bourbon and Conti."
His strong exhale sounded suspiciously like a sigh. "Very well."
He led her across the busy street and into the quiet of the French Quarter without saying another word. There was tension oozing from his erect body and his jaw was clinched so tight the muscles were twitching. She really didn't want to make him angry, and not just because she was afraid of his wrath. So far, he'd been nothing but gentlemanly. If she wasn't ready to turn him into the police because she thought he might be innocent, she needed to quit treating him like a serial killer.
"So do you visit the cemetery often?" she asked in an attempt to soothe the situation.
There was a substantial pause before he replied. "I used to. It has a tattered beauty I find soothing."
Tattered beauty was the perfect descriptor. It was refreshing to have her opinion of the cemetery echoed. Jeff would have hated the place.
She took another deep breath. He wasn't trying to attack her or eat her or anything. They could have a normal conversation. How else was she going to determine what to tell the police? "But not anymore?"
"The trash gets to me. No matter how thoroughly the grounds are cleaned, the trash always finds its way back."
"I've never understood why it's such a burden for some people to carry their trash with them until they can properly dispose of it," she agreed. "Cigarette butts are the most annoying. Just because they're small doesn't mean they disappear into the ground. Besides, it's not like they weigh a lot. Pack it in, pack it out." Once again, she was rambling and talking entirely too fast.
He glanced at her for the first time since they'd left the cemetery. "Absolutely." At least, he no longer seemed as irritated and some of the tension had eased from his body. "How is your seminar going?" he wondered.
"Pretty well. It can be a little tedious at times."
"That's too bad. It sounded interesting."
He was being polite. There was no way utility management, even disaster utility management, would be interesting to a man like Armand.
"I don't think it's the seminar's fault. I'm just having a hard time concentrating."
"Why is that?"
Because crazy fortune tellers, vampires, blood drained dead girls, sexy Goth bars with even sexier patrons made it hard to pay attention to some monotone guy in a plaid button up shirt talk about water mains exploding and taking out highways.
"This city is distracting me," Julia said instead.
"She has a way of doing that."
His sharp tooth grin, sly wink and decadent drawl made her heart race for two distinct reasons.
No kidding.
As they walked deeper into the Quarter and the population increased, Julia slowly relaxed. If Armand truly was dangerous, and she was pretty sure he wasn't, it was unlikely he would attack her in a crowd full of people. Or so she hoped.
But she had to ask the question that had been plaguing her all afternoon. There were plenty of places to flee and people to help...
"So, what happened with that woman who passed out in your bar?" she asked quickly, before she had a chance to change her mind. Watching his reaction carefully, she prepped her muscles to run.
"Eve? I dropped her off at Tulane."
"The university?"
Armand smile was barely perceptible. "No, the hospital. Specifically, the emergency room."
Julia actually felt the tension slide from her body and drip onto the dirty street. "Oh," she breathed. So, her instincts had been correct after all. Well, except for the part where she'd wanted to run screaming from the cemetery when he snuck up on her.
The smile dropped from his lips. "It's a shame. It should never come to that."
She looked at him with fresh eyes, startled by how drawn she was to him. "It is a shame."
A neon sign blinking directly behind Armand's head suddenly caught her eye. "Oysters," she blurted.
Armand paused, glancing at the café behind him. "Would you like some oysters?"
"Oh, um, no. I'd just gone looking for oysters the other night, but the place I went to was packed so I didn't. I mean, I'd like some but I'm fine right now." It was more than a little frustrating the way words tumbled recklessly out of her mouth whenever Armand made her nervous, especially since his always seemed so carefully chosen.
He pulled open the door. "I'm not the kind of man to deny a woman her oysters."
"Um," she hesitated, unsure what to do. Ten minutes ago she was arguing whether or not Armand was a murderer and now she was contemplating having dinner with him.
Feeling the corner of her lips curl up in a smile, she couldn't believe what she was about to do. It was completely unlike her. But she wanted adventure, and this was territory far, far away from her comfort zone
"Are you hungry?" Julia asked as she eased past him into the café.
He leaned forward. "I'm always hungry," he said directly into her ear.
Her body temperature jumped up at least ten degrees and most of it radiated from between her legs. Clare was right. It had been way too long since Julia was intimate with a man if a few sexily spoken words from one she'd just met, and knew very little about, made her light up.
"Do you want to get a table...?"
"Why don't we stand at the bar," he suggested. "It'll be more of a New Orleans experience that way."
They stepped up to the cool, stone counter next to a couple of 20-something men with Bloody Mary's and a dozen half-shell oysters spread out on the granite before them. The server cracked shells and tossed them onto the bar almost as quickly as the men sucked them down.
"What can I get you miss?" he asked, still rapidly shucking oysters, his knife never missing a beat.
"May I have a half-dozen, and a water?"
"And you sir?"
"I'm fine, thank you."
Julia turned to Armand. "I thought you were hungry."
"Unfortunately, there's nothing on this menu I can eat."
Okay, how much evidence did she need? Was it possible? The thought was so preposterous, but the clues were all there. Could Armand really be -?
"J
ulia!" Her own name crashed through her thoughts like a raging bull. Annoyed at the interruption, she turned to greet a beaming Dave.
"Oh. Hey Dave."
"We're going to grab a drink." He gestured out the door towards one of the many bars on Bourbon St. "Do you want to join us?"
No, she did not want to join him. Things were way too interesting here. "Um..." She glanced at Armand, trying to figure out how to politely turn Dave down and introduce her neighbor at the same time.
Armand's face was dark and unreadable, but he must have misinterpreted her glance because he said, quite formally, "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Julia. But I'm afraid I must excuse myself."
She'd barely opened her mouth to protest by the time Armand had inclined his head and was out the door. Exasperated, she turned to Dave. It might not be his fault, but she felt like yelling at him anyway.
"Wow," Dave said, looking at the dark doorway Armand had just bolted through. "Where'd you meet that freak?"
Her appetite left as quickly as Armand had. "Dave, I'm going to have to pass on the drink. I'm suddenly not feeling well. All those cocktails last night have been wrecking havoc with me all day. In fact, do you want some oysters?" She found it incredibly irritating that the moment Armand was out of sight, she could miraculously manage her tongue.
"I guess." The furrows between Dave's brows were ready for corn.
Julia tossed some money on the bar. "Great, thanks." She headed for the door. "Hey, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Completely lacking Armand's grace, she slipped out the door before Dave had a chance to reply.
If she hurried, she could probably still catch Armand in the crowds. She jogged as far as Bourbon. Greeted by blaring music and throngs of tourists crowding the sidewalks, she scanned the busy street. A delivery van was blocking the intersection, and her view of the street in either direction was obstructed by the sheer masses of people.
He could be heading towards La Luxure. If she started that direction, she might find him. Julia pulled out her map. Bourbon would be too crowded to negotiate quickly. If she took the parallel street, Dauphine, she could move much faster.