Just as Niko was about to do just that, an intrusive voice invaded his thoughts. It was as though someone else kneeled behind him, whispering in the other ear. As Rémy kept up his obscene, amorous talk, someone else discouraged the whole proceedings with censure and degradation.
“You sick, depraved bastard.” The voice oozed with displeasure. “I knew you were a bumsucker. I called on Sabine one evening but looked through your window before I lifted the knocker. I saw you bumfucking in the Italian fashion on that divan. Two men going hard at it. Disgusting.”
It was Leclerc again, his voice coming even clearer and louder this time. Mon Dieu! He would not allow that deviant libertine to ruin his pleasant, erotic scene! He covered Rémy’s hand with his own, beseeching him to caress his scrotum even more energetically. Rémy’s voice overlaid Leclerc’s. But the louder Rémy talked, the louder Leclerc shouted in his other ear.
Rémy growled. “The harder I jack you, the more you want to explode. Admit it. You like being jacked by another man.”
And Leclerc’s voice echoed the theme. “I watched you gorging yourself on that man’s phallus. Then you took yours and inserted it in his ass. Sodomy! Ganymedes thrashing around together, moaning, squirming around beneath each other. I was so disgusted I nearly spewed onto the front walkway.”
“You like me pumping your dick.” Rémy licked the shell of Niko’s ear. “Admit it. You like—”
One enormous shiver roared up and down Niko’s spine. As Rémy swiveled his hips and thrust his cock against Niko, Niko erupted. As Rémy had predicted, his seed shot against Heidi’s leg, then coursed down over Rémy’s gripping fist. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through Niko, and he could only presume the same was happening to Heidi. Her tiny cries of joy had reached a crescendo, and as she squirted juices onto Niko’s tongue, she also shuddered mightily. Her fingers dug into Niko’s shoulder so deeply he was sure there would be permanent marks.
And he didn’t mind. Leclerc’s voice was gone, and all he heard was the reassuring voice of his lover, Rémy Lafitte. My lover. Was it too much to hope that they could all share in the pleasure equally?
Now Rémy just pressed his erection against Niko. “That’s good. Good, my man. Come. Come for me. Come all over me.” He took a palmful of Niko’s seed and massaged his prick with it. “God, you needed to come. You came a bucket. You were just dying for that release. Giving Heidi pleasure gives you that release. Good. Don’t stop. Look at her coming. That’s all you, my man. You’re making her come.”
And Rémy was making Niko come. Niko was lost in a safe, erotic world that consisted only of his other two lovers.
Chapter Seven
Apparently a second line wasn’t a line drawn on the ground at all. It was a line, or queue, of people. Dancing, twirling, carousing people.
Rémy explained to Heidi that African American Social Aid & Pleasure Clubs formed these lines, or parades, that followed more official brass band parades. Flashed out in umbrellas, fans, feathers, and sashes, the revelers marched through Louis Armstrong Park—Niko called it Beauregard Square. Dancers got down and funky in a syncopated marching promenade. Hundreds of people had already joined the line by the time the trio hooked up with them. They cut through Congo Square, which Niko called Place des Nègres, where he said hundreds of slaves used to gather and dance.
“They would wear animal’s tails,” said Niko as they rushed through the square, “with bells and shells decorating their clothing. You could hear them a mile away carousing every Sunday. Many of the African dances I remembered from Cuba.”
Heidi said, “I’m going to need to stop for a drink if we’re going to have to ‘place stones’ at every one of these damned pentalpha points. Niko, you still have that map inside your vest?” People sped past them carrying cans of beer, coolers, and even little grills. Heidi was really fancying another Hurricane about now, having already forgotten her overindulgence of the night before.
“Yes, but I haven’t marked down the Voodoo Temple yet,” said Niko. “I think after this second line, we could head for Lafitte’s blacksmith shop like Rémy said, and then to make another point in the star, somewhere on Canal Street.”
This adventure was going beyond what Heidi had hoped for. She realized her other friends were having their own adventures. Faina was hungover, Dani apparently off with two other men, Shayla doing the same—what had gotten into all of them? It was as though the spell cast over Heidi at the cemetery had gotten its tentacles into her friends, too. Of course, it could’ve been the combination of booze plus New Orleans that had cast a spell over all of them.
Heidi must have looked sideways at one group’s cooler, for they cheerfully tossed her a can of Budweiser. “Merci!” she called back, happily popping the tab on the can.
Heidi’s situation was more than just a combination of alcohol and atmosphere. She was truly, sincerely, falling for Niko—a soulless man, a man without a destiny, a future—or a planet to live on. It wasn’t just his mad oral skills, his talent with his tongue, that had her falling, and falling fast. His fascinating, colorful background had drawn her in. His upstanding, stiff-necked, moral outrage attracted her. Hell, he had died for his sister’s honor! While she agreed with Rémy that Niko should not beat himself up over how his sister’s life had turned out, she had nothing but respect for Niko’s quest to spring Sabine from Everlost.
She knew it was Rémy she should be falling in love with. Rémy was the billionaire, the urbane and sophisticated world traveler, handsome beyond belief. It really didn’t get much better than Rémy Lafitte when it came to debonair, stylish hipness. Jesus on a stick, he owned his own software company in Austin. Now he owned the gorgeous columned home on Terpsichore Street. He had bought it just to feel closer to Jean Lafitte, his glamorous pirate ancestor. Did it get any more fascinating than that?
Well, yes and no. Heidi was smart enough to know that Rémy was accustomed to getting any woman he wanted. He could crook his little finger and they’d come running. Heidi couldn’t compete with that. No matter how competitive Rémy got with Niko, at the end of the day, he could still walk into any restaurant and have every woman in the place drooling for him, ready to toss out their virginity or husband just for one night with Rémy Lafitte.
Heidi couldn’t take the competition. A man who hadn’t been laid in a hundred and fifty years was a much safer bet. And Niko was polite, manly, and one hell of a smoking hot undead guy.
Now Niko said, “Shouldn’t we try and invoke Baal-Berith, to find out how we’re doing? I’m starting to worry we’re on a wild goose chase.”
“Do we really want to invoke him? He decapitated Colette!” said Rémy.
Heidi said, “Niko, why don’t you ask Sabine? Or even that Leclerc asshole? You’re in touch with people much closer to the spirits than we are.”
“I can usually only hear them when I am being extremely quiet,” said Niko. “Besides, remember we need to pray in the temple and receive the ring with the pentalpha. I do not think we will be extremely quiet in the next hour or so, from the looks of that crowd.”
Indeed, a full block before the fountains and lake of Mahalia Jackson Theater, the trio was swept along by the energy and jet stream of dozens of rushing, dancing, twirling revelers. There was no point in trying to talk to each other now as they got closer to the dissonant clanging of the drums, saxes, and percussion instruments. Dancers wailed, shouted, called out. Heidi had chugged her beer by the time they actually joined the line. The dancers’ joy was infectious, and she accepted a parasol someone happily handed to her. Now she had something to twirl as she followed the line.
“Somebody got soul, soul, soul,” she bellowed, along with other members of the Social Aid & Pleasure Club.
The whole ambiance was just sheer joy. How could anyone be unhappy or miserable dancing in a line like this? As Heidi wondered where they would find a spot to dash off and “place their stones,” she couldn’t help reflecting back on what had just happened at the Voodoo
Temple.
Raoul had never licked her pussy. That was a given. He just wasn’t the “sort” to run around eating out women. That was all, and Heidi had accepted it. So she’d only been eaten out by two, maybe three, men in her time. Just having Niko’s beautifully sculpted face anywhere near her pussy was almost enough to bring her off. When he’d started licking her as though she were a scrumptious lollipop, she thought she’d go out of her head with intense sensation.
Then halfway through the act, while gripping Niko’s all-too-human shoulder beneath her fingernails, she’d looked down. Rémy kneeled behind Niko encouraging him, urging him on. She could only hear snippets of Rémy’s dirty talk. He must have been turning himself on, because soon he moved his hand around toward Niko’s crotch, where she could see him caressing, squeezing gently as he humped his ghostly friend.
That was what had really shoved Heidi over the edge. The harder Rémy squeezed Niko’s dick, the more sensuously Niko lapped at her clit. By the time Rémy had uncovered Niko’s dick and was pumping it for dear life, Heidi was truly about to go insane from the acute, powerful feelings seizing her entire pelvis. When the orgasm hit her like a cannonball, she was probably drawing blood—if Niko could bleed—from his shoulder, her other hand tearing off a tough frond of the fibrous banana palm.
Niko’s warm semen splashed her leg. She shuddered like an insect pinned to a board. It took what seemed like minutes for her spasms to subside, by which time she was sliding down the tree trunk, collapsing like a cheap tent. Her hand weakly joined Rémy’s in caressing the last drop of seed from Niko’s beautiful prick. She discovered that reanimated men were just as virile as the living. And she had never felt so desirable, so feminine, so utterly wanted.
Rémy danced along, too, but Niko was truly in his element. He wailed, threw his hands up, called out to deities and orishas. Heidi couldn’t take her eyes off him as he strutted and boogied to the beat. Rémy actually yanked her by the arm to gain her attention. He was that competitive.
But it wasn’t to impress her sexually now. Rémy pointed intently at someone in costume careening by a chartreuse green shotgun house. “Look. Remind you of anyone?”
Heidi’s mind was blank as she twirled her umbrella. The dude was dressed head to toe in red, what looked like football shoulder pads and knee pads making him appear fearsome, although the red Superman-style underwear erased much of that impact.
What was he supposed to remind her of? “No, he doesn’t, Rémy.”
“Look closer. The gold crown?”
“It’s more like a football helmet. What am I supposed to be—oh, shit.”
Rémy was right. The guy traipsing down the street without a care in the world was dressed as Baal-Berith, no doubt about it! Heidi wasted no time in darting in front of several partiers and grabbing Baal-Berith by the shoulder pad.
“Hear me now!” he called out harmlessly, flailing his arms. “Hear me now!”
But when he turned to Heidi, it was as though an orisha had overtaken his body. His eyes glared crimson through the face mask, bulging as though possessed with a poisonous rage.
Still, Heidi found it within herself to ask meekly, “Who are you dressed as?”
“Don’t you know me?” snarled the odious spirit.
They had stopped walking by now. Rémy was at her side, although Niko had danced on down the street. “Well, yes. You’re dressed as Baal-Berith, powerful Duke of Demons.” Taking a chance now, Heidi ventured forth. “Can you tell us where to find the ring with the seal of God in the shape of a—”
“The corvette!” roared the venomous demon, bearing down on Heidi. He loomed so high and mighty above her, she was actually shrinking back into the roadway. “The corvette will assist you in your quest!”
Rémy got in between Heidi and the red football player. “Wait. A warship? Some old navy sailing ship? Should we head out to the waterfront? Is that what you’re saying?”
When Heidi next dared to peek around Rémy’s shoulder, the fire was gone from the Duke of Demon’s eyes. He looked at them, confused, as though he’d never seen them before in his life, even shaking off Rémy’s hand on his forearm. Then he danced away, bellowing, “Hear me now!”
Heidi and Rémy stared blankly at each other as the crowd swirled around them. Finally, Heidi said, “Okay, that was strange.”
“Yes,” agreed Rémy. “That guy was definitely Baal-Berith, at least for a minute.”
“Well, he’s a trickster, remember? How can we believe anything he says?”
“Especially if he thinks we’re only in it for personal gain. Is becoming mortal ‘personal gain’?”
“Damn,” said Heidi. “Pretty much anything could be considered ‘personal gain.’ In a way, saving Sabine from Everlost could be considered ‘personal gain.’ It’ll make Niko happy, so doesn’t he gain? We also have to atone for our sins, or we don’t get redemption. I doubt Niko is very sorry for stabbing that Leclerc dickhead.”
“The only place I can think where a corvette might be is the riverfront. The blacksmith’s shop is on the way, so let’s head out.”
“But we haven’t placed any stones in this parade. Frankly, I don’t know if I can place stones for another few hours.”
Rémy took her hand, smiling slyly. “It’s all right, I’m sure. At least we were here, right? Come on, let’s find Niko.”
Threading in and out of the line of dancers, the couple worked their way up front where they caught Niko by the sleeve. He was participating fully in the event, giving his all to it. It sounded as though he were offering prayers to his egun, and luckily no one in the eclectic parade was looking at him askance.
* * * *
Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop was actually a bar, allegedly one of the oldest in America, which suited Heidi just fine. Heidi didn’t know what Rémy expected to find here, but she expected at least one of the cheap shots of Patron she had heard about. With no electricity, they sat by a window to watch horses pulling rolling carriages, Niko remarking how comforting it was after all the fast, shiny cars. Drunk people sang along with the piano player in the back, and Niko felt right at home.
“I am sure there are plenty of corvettes at the riverfront,” said Niko. He was sipping black tea. He didn’t want anything alcoholic that might detract from what must have already been a very long, strange trip for him. “It is a sloop-of-war, usually with three masts, maybe four hundred tons burden.”
To cover up her ignorance, Heidi asked, “Do you think there are many of them at the riverfront now?”
Niko smiled. “In my day, yes. Now? Maybe not so many.”
Rémy said, “Listen, you said something about a time limit, midnight tonight or something.”
Niko clarified his statement. “I said Baal-Berith will only increase in power up until midnight. But I have seen no sign of him, unless I am to believe your drunken merrymaker.”
“He was real!” protested Heidi. “And you saw him chop the head off that poor misguided priestess.”
“Listen,” said Rémy, “has it occurred to you that you might need to redeem Leclerc as well as your sister? You said you hear both their voices. This whole quest is about apologizing, making amends for past wrongs. I’d say turning Leclerc into a piece of Swiss cheese is something you need to apologize for.”
Niko’s eyes turned almost as fiery as the red football player’s had been. “No such thing needs to occur! What I did was right and just. I will go down in flames before apologizing for something I do not feel badly about!”
“Go down in flames just about describes it,” said Heidi wearily.
“She’s right,” said Rémy. “You’re never going to become fully mortal—if that’s your goal—or get Sabine out of Everlost if you don’t somehow come to terms with what you did. Admit it might not have been the smartest, most intelligent choice on the face of the planet. You had other choices. You could have forbidden the twatwaffle from seeing Sabine, for instance.”
“Not an option!” spat N
iko. “I can become fully mortal without any redress to that whoremonger and fancy man! We can save Sabine from Everlost if we can just find this ring and get through Hellmouth.”
“I accused her of making out with a guy I liked,” blurted Heidi. Her own words shocked her. Why was she suddenly talking about Lisette Trudeau, their old college friend? But the liquor had loosened her tongue once again, and she found herself blathering on. “A month before she died so brutally, I was at a party with Lisette. A stupid guy I liked, some colossal asswad named Jason, I think, told me he left his cigarettes in his car and went back to get them. After ten minutes, he still wasn’t back, so I went and looked. I saw his profile through the rear window, and who I thought was Lisette, rocking the car.”
“If this car’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking,” goofed Rémy.
Niko slapped Rémy’s arm with the back of his hand. “She is being sincere, you dolt! She is trying to express an incident over which she feels some guilt. Please continue, Heidi.”
Heidi realized she was practically sobbing into her shot glass now. She had never even told her roommate Faina that she had accused Lisette based on little or no facts of stealing some moron who wasn’t even officially her boyfriend. Lisette had denied it heatedly, of course. The following day doubts had crept into Heidi’s mind, but she’d gotten swept back into classes and the social whirl and hadn’t had a chance to talk to Lisette again.
The next time she’d partied with Lisette in Oxford, Mississippi, they’d convinced her to leave her gris-gris behind in her room. Lisette was a Vodun priestess who also used Santeria as a way to lure people into her world. That night, they’d been separated. Lisette had wound up with her throat slit. Not one speck of DNA was found, so the murder was never solved. The college friends suddenly had a newfound respect for Lisette’s passionate religion, and Heidi had walked around for ten years with a massive load of guilt on her shoulders for not having cleared it up with Lisette before she died.
Redemption Song [Midnight, New Orleans Style 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 7