Winds of the Storm

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Guess we’re out of business,” Zahra lamented.

  “Looks that way,” Adair said sadly.

  “Too bad about our whore red coach,” Stella added glumly. “Glad the horses got out though.”

  Matilda said, “One of the policemen asked me if you’d had trouble with any customers lately, so I told him about Mitchell.”

  “Thank you, Matilda.”

  Of course, Isenbaum had been the first person to come to Zahra’s mind when she’d learned the fire had been deliberately set. She had no proof, of course, but in her gut she knew it had been him or someone connected to him and his cronies. With the need for shelter at the top of her list, Zahra knew that wondering how the loss of the house would affect her operation was something she’d have to explore later, but that didn’t stop the question from weighing on her anyway.

  The women were huddled near the smoldering ruins for warmth when Alfred drove up in a flatbed wagon. Beside him sat Sophie, and they cheered his arrival. Zahra was even more delighted to see Archer, in his signature black barouche, pull up behind the wagon and get out.

  Sophie said with concern, “I didn’t know anything about the fire until Alfred came to get me. Are you all right?”

  “We’re cold but glad to be alive. It was arson.”

  Archer asked her, “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  His concerned manner softened her heart. “I am certain.”

  She took one of the blankets Sophie had brought and draped it over her shivering shoulders. “Do you have any rooms you can rent us?” Zahra asked the madame.

  “Yes, and for as long as you need them.”

  Relieved, she saw that the girls were all wrapped up and being helped into the wagon by Alfred.

  Sophie asked her, “Are you going with us?”

  Zahra looked to Archer, who smiled. She replied, “No.”

  Sophie offered up her own smile, than said, “Make sure she gets a hot bath, Archer.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  After Sophie’s departure, Archer pulled her into his arms. He was so grateful she hadn’t been hurt. “Let’s get back to the hotel and settle you in.”

  “I’ve heard you have a wonderful bed. Is it big enough for two?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  As they drove away, a melancholy Zahra surveyed the charred remains. Being Madame Domino had been fun and she’d had a good time, but she looked upon tonight’s incident as providential. Being Madame Domino would be a hindrance to finding the Death Books because she wouldn’t be able to move around the city at night, a necessity in her line of work, but now due to the fire, Madam Domino would be leaving New Orleans on a train going west never to return, so Zahra could get on with the search.

  When Zahra reached Archer’s apartments, she immediately fell tiredly into one of the large upholstered chairs. Every inch of her body was exhausted. Still wrapped in the blanket she felt capable of falling asleep right then and there, even though the sun was coming up. “If anyone tries to wake me before noon, would you kill them for me?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “I’m glad no one was injured.”

  “So am I.” When Alfred pounded on the door to tell him her place was on fire, Archer’s heart had jumped into his throat. Only when he’d been assured that she was alive and well had he begun to breathe again.

  “I don’t have any proof,” she was saying, “but Isenbaum was involved, I can taste it. We need to find out where he went after he left the club this evening.”

  Archer watched her with a fond smile. Even though she’d survived a fire and looked asleep on her feet, she was still focused on her mission. “How about you sleep first, then we’ll discuss what’s to be done.”

  “Okay,” she replied tiredly. Stumbling to her feet, she made her way over to him, kissed him soundly, then headed off to the bedroom.

  Archer was weary too, but he didn’t have the luxury of returning to bed. He had a hotel to run. The knowledge that while he was working Zahra would be upstairs asleep in his bed—and might also be in his rooms at the end of the day—gave him all the incentive he needed, though, so with that in mind, he washed up and changed his clothes.

  In his office, thoughts of her filled his mind. The final veil over her identity still had to be lifted. Who was the Butterfly? Would he ever know? She’d made it clear that he’d get no help from her in his search, and she’d been true to her word. That he could have lost her in an arson fire before having the opportunity to know her as well as he wanted did not sit well.

  André came in through the open office door and announced, “Aristide wants to know if Domino wants breakfast.”

  Archer was glad to see him. “Welcome back. Tell him she made me pledge to kill anyone who attempts to waken her before the noon hour.”

  André laughed, “I’ll relay the message. I heard about the fire. I’m glad she and her girls were able to escape.”

  “So are they. Police are pointing to an arsonist. I’ll fill you in in a moment. Were you able to see Mrs. Dunn?” Archer had sent André with a letter, hoping she would receive him.

  “Only long enough for her to send this reply.”

  He handed Archer a short, handwritten missive; when he read it, it made him sigh with resignation. “She wants to be left alone and would prefer that any further inquiries into Oscar’s death be halted. Permanently.”

  Archer tossed the note onto his desk.

  “Are you going to honor her request?”

  “What choice do I have? If the family can’t be convinced of the need for an autopsy…” He shrugged and sighed again. “We’ll never know now, and that’s a pity.”

  André nodded in silent agreement. “So, tell me about the meeting.”

  André had been a trusted family friend and an unofficially adopted sibling for most of his adult years. Rai’s best friend, Galeno Vachon, had rescued the then youngster André from a brothel and taken him home and paid for him to be educated. After serving as Rai’s aide in the contraband camps established during the fading years of the war, André had followed Rai to the Sea Islands and then back to New Orleans.

  Archer told him of the plans they’d formulated the night before. “The fire’s going to make us alter things, but I’m sure she already has it worked out. She’s an amazing woman, Dré.”

  “I agree.”

  “Oh, did I tell you I found out who she is?”

  “No!”

  “She’s the Butterfly.”

  André’s mouth dropped. “Truly?”

  Archer nodded. “I was shocked as well.”

  André was still speechless.

  “So, that part of the mystery is solved.”

  “And do you know who the Butterfly is?”

  “No,” Archer groused.

  André grinned. “She’s not making this easy for you, is she?”

  “Not at all, but I’ll figure it out.”

  “Before or after the Second Coming? According to everything I’ve heard, her fame is well deserved.”

  “I agree, but I’m a pretty fair investigator in my own right.”

  “Is that why she had to rescue you from that barn?”

  The teasing was good natured, but Archer shot him a look nonetheless. “You’re as bad as my brothers.”

  André smiled. “If you don’t need anything else from me, I’m going to my apartment and get some sleep. I rode all night to get back here.”

  “I’ve some wires to send, but I think I’ll wait until I speak with Zahra before sending them.”

  “Who’s Zahra?”

  “Madame Domino. It’s the name she’s chosen to go by now.”

  The confused André shook his head. “Okay. You can explain that to me after I’ve had some sleep.”

  Archer nodded. “Go home. We’ll speak later.”

  When Zahra awakened, she was so disoriented that it took her a moment to figure out where she was. Then she remembered the fire. Lying there in Archer’s big bed, she let
the memories of the night roll across her mind until every detail was clear. She and the girls had been lucky. They could have easily been consumed, and because they were whores, few people, if any, would have mourned their passing. Zahra wondered how her staff had fared. They’d all been on assignment last night, so their lives had not been in danger. She trusted Alfred had informed them all, Wilma included. She thought about his battered face and wondered how it had come to be that way, but she knew she’d get the answer when she saw him. Because of the fire their plans for the Death Books would have to be altered somewhat, but she’d think about that later. Right now, she needed to wash, then search out food for her hungry stomach. Tossing back the coverlet, she got up.

  Zahra was wearing a long paisley robe she’d taken from Archer’s wardrobe when he arrived with her lunch on a tray. Alfred was with him; his face looked as bruised and beaten as it had last night. “What happened to your face? Were you hurt during the fire?”

  He gave her a negative shake of his head. “Got into a fight.”

  “With whom?”

  “The husband of a woman I’ve been seeing. Didn’t know she was married.”

  Zahra didn’t know he’d been seeing anyone. “Did he have to be hospitalized?” She could only imagine what the other man must look like.

  “No. Not a scratch on him. I didn’t defend myself, so he got in some pretty good licks.”

  “You didn’t defend yourself?”

  “She was his wife, so I had it coming. I’ll be all right in a few days.”

  Speechless, Zahra stared at him, then over at Archer, who shrugged and said, “As a man, I understand it perfectly.”

  “You’re a better man than I, Alfred.”

  He smiled through his swollen lip and said, “Got good news, though. Wilma will be by later with some clothes, and I found the strongbox from your office in the rubble. The heat fused the top so it can’t be opened, but otherwise it looks okay. Mr. Le Veq is sure his brother can use welding tools on it.”

  Zahra sent up a silent cry of thanks. “Hallelujah! I can pay Wilma for more dresses, and maybe there will even be enough left over to give the girls money to help them start over somewhere else.”

  Alfred asked, “We’re not going to reopen?”

  Zahra shook her head. “No. We’d have to rebuild, or find another place that we’d have to furnish and do all the other things necessary to make it as fine as the old place, and we just don’t have the time.”

  “What about the operation?”

  “That won’t change. I’m still committed to finding those books and getting them to the president.” She also planned to continue in her role as the spider for Henry Adams and his volunteers. The times were too volatile for the web to cease disseminating its vital information.

  While Zahra ate lunch and moaned with delight over the succulent quiche and catfish Aristide had prepared, they discussed how to alter the plan.

  A few minutes into the discussion, a knock sounded on Archer’s door. “Entrez!” he called out.

  In walked the Le Veq siblings and a woman who resembled the portrait on Archer’s wall.

  A smiling but confused-looking Archer stood and greeted her with a kiss on her unlined cheek. “Afternoon, Mama. What brings you here?”

  “I came to meet Zahra.”

  Zahra was surprised and even more so when Juliana announced, “Anyone who is not female will please leave the room.”

  There were a few guffaws, but the men complied.

  Once their departure was complete, Zahra met the smiling black eyes of the Le Veq matriarch and wished she were wearing something besides Archer’s robe.

  Juliana took off her gloves and sat at the table across from Zahra in the seat vacated by Archer. “How are you, dear?”

  “I’m well. Please pardon my attire. I lost everything in the fire but the nightgown on my back. So did my girls.”

  “So I’ve heard. And your plans?”

  Zahra wondered where these questions were leading. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I’d like to help if I can.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you saved my son’s life, Zahra Lafayette, and I owe you the world.”

  Zahra was stunned. “How do you know my name?”

  “Do not tell my sons, but they are not the only intelligence gatherers in the House of Le Veq.” Juliana smiled.

  “You are the Henry Adams spider, and I am one of the people who feed your web.”

  “And your sons don’t know?”

  “My dear Zahra, if you ever have children, keep your own counsel on some things. If you do, they can’t interfere by attempting to save you from yourself.”

  Zahra smiled. So this was Juliana Le Veq. Her sons would undoubtedly throw fits if her secrets were revealed. “Are you ever going to tell them?”

  She shrugged her elegantly gowned shoulders. “I’ve learned to never say never, but not in the foreseeable future, not if I have a choice.”

  Zahra shook her head in absolute amazement. “I applaud you.”

  “And I applaud you. I’m also honored to meet you. Had I known Madame Domino and the Butterfly were one and the same I wouldn’t have been so upset with Archer about being seen with you.”

  “I understand appearances, ma’am, but I was still myself underneath.”

  Juliana paused. “Forgive an old woman for being of her times and class.”

  “I don’t fault you. We agree that few mothers want their sons to be seen in public with a known whore, but aren’t placees whores in their own ways?”

  Juliana’s face slipped into a rueful smile. “Tell that to our men. You are quite formidable.”

  “As are you. I believe we’re going to get on just fine.”

  And they did get along fine for over an hour, discussing Zahra’s future plans, the war, and the contributions made by female spies, both Black and White, to the Union cause—women like freed slaves Mary Touvestre and Mary Elizabeth Bower.

  There was a knock on the door.

  Juliana sang, “Come in.”

  Archer stuck his head in and asked, “Have you two forgotten that we’re cooling our heels out here?”

  “No, dear, but Zahra and I are getting along famously. That should put the sun back into your stormy face. You’re behaving more and more like Raimond daily. I’d see someone about that were I you.”

  The defeated Archer hung his head.

  That night, as Zahra lay in bed next to Archer, she yawned. “I’m still trying to catch up on my sleep.”

  He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Then I’ll let you sleep, but tomorrow I won’t be so kind.”

  She smiled contentedly. “I like your mother.”

  “She seems to adore you. What were the two of you talking about so long this afternoon?”

  “Oh, a little of this and a bit of that. Women things.”

  “I see,” he said, though by his skeptical tone it was clear to Zahra that he did not.

  “We didn’t discuss you, if that has you worried,” she replied.

  “I’m not worried. I know what a good son I am.”

  Zahra chuckled and said sleepily, “Swelled-headed Frenchman.”

  He gave her a soft pinch on the butt.

  She elbowed him in the ribs. “Be nice or I’ll tell your mother.”

  “Okay,” he chuckled. “Get some sleep, chérie.”

  She cuddled closer and whispered, “Night, Archer.”

  A few minutes later, they were both snoring.

  The next morning, Zahra and the girls had breakfast in the hotel’s staff dining room. Afterwards, Zahra started the process of saying good-bye. She’d informed them the night before that she wouldn’t be reopening the house, and although the decision had saddened them, they were realists. Beau Le Veq had been able to open the fire-damaged strong box. Out of the money that remained, Zahra gave each of the women one hundred dollars to help them start over in a new place. When she finished, everyone, inc
luding Zahra, was in tears over the breakup of their unconventional family.

  “You’ve been good to us, Domino,” Chloe declared as she gave Zahra a fierce hug.

  “And you all have been good to me,” Zahra responded. And they had been. They’d also given her quite an education—especially Naomi and Salome. “Where are you headed, Chloe?”

  “Chicago. No one knows me there. Maybe find a man who won’t mind my age or that I’m from Virginia.”

  The girls had varying plans: Adair and Stella were off to New York to try their hand at being on stage. They thought they might find an audience there for their songs and recitations.

  Matilda was going back home to Pennsylvania to take care of her sick mama. “Now that she’s sick she doesn’t much care about me being a whore anymore, long as I’m there to take care of her.”

  The tall, dark-skinned Lovey was headed for Canada. “My brother has a farm in a place called Amherstburgh. Think I’ll go up for a visit and scare him to death. Then I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe do like Chloe and find a man, start a family.”

  The twins, however, had definite plans. “We’re getting married!” they said excitedly in unison.

  Everyone stared.

  Zahra was afraid to ask, “To whom?”

  “A Mormon named Uriah Bennett. We met him one night at the house.”

  Zahra asked, “Which one of you is he marrying?”

  “Both of us, Domino. Haven’t you heard? Mormons can have more than one wife.”

  Zahra hadn’t heard, and she shook her head.

  Stella asked, “How old is he?”

  “Sixty.”

  Adair drawled, “He’ll be dead in a month.”

  The twins didn’t think the quip was very funny, but the rest of the women howled until tears rolled down their cheeks.