Demons of Bourbon Street

by Deanna Chase

  I stared at her, trying to comprehend what she just said. I’d destroyed the demon part of her. Bea had told me killing demons was impossible. But is that what I’d done? No. Impossible. By some stroke of luck, Meri had lived. Though who knows what would have happened to her if she hadn’t gotten a piece of my soul? I shook my head trying to clear my thoughts. I didn’t want to think about it just then.

  “Let’s go,” Bea said and motioned for Meri and me to follow her.

  I hesitated as it became clear she was headed for her yard. Exactly where I’d taken down Meri, destroying her demon side. Meri held back, as if she might bolt.

  “Follow me, ladies. Everything is quite safe, I assure you,” Bea ordered.

  Both of us took our places beside her.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “We wait,” she said.

  “For what?” I kicked an ant off my shoe, wondering what happened to Bea’s bug-be-gone spell. Ants in Louisiana bite.

  “To see how your souls react.” Bea held a hand out to each of us.

  We stood together for what seemed like forever, though it was probably more like five minutes. Eventually, she dropped our hands and declared, “You have nothing to worry about. Your souls are content where they are.”

  She took off before I could ask what she meant.

  “She means neither part is longing for the other. They’re adapting,” Meri said.

  I stared at her, wondering what it meant that she now owned part of my soul. I didn’t feel different, just battered. Would weird complications arise later? Like unfortunate psychic connections? “Did you just read my mind?”

  “No. Your confusion.” She shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t help it.”

  The situation was so absurd, I almost laughed. All those years I’d hated my ability. Hated that I was different. And now I was certain I’d miss it. I’d been an empath since…well, forever. “Don’t worry,” I assured her. “If anyone understands, it’s me.”

  We talked for a few more minutes and then suddenly Meri wrapped her arms around me and squeezed for dear life.

  Half-laughing, half-choking, I finally got out, “What’s that for?”

  “Giving me my life and at the same time holding on to yours.” She released me and took a step back. “If they’d given me your soul and you died, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. It wasn’t right what they did.”

  I nodded in agreement. “You’re right, it wasn’t. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re getting a second shot.”

  She shook her head. “After the things I did, I don’t deserve it.”

  “Hey! What happened to you wasn’t your fault.” I took a step closer. “Do you hear me? Not. Your. Fault. “

  She met my gaze with tears in her eyes.

  I lowered my voice. “Just take this second chance and use it wisely. Okay?”

  One tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ll do my best.”

  This time I caught her in a hug. It was weird and awkward, but also necessary. When we broke apart, she took a few steps back, nodded an unspoken promise, and took off across the grounds.

  I wondered if I’d see her again. With my luck? Yeah. Probably sooner rather than later.

  ***

  After two days of lying around Kane’s house, most of the time spent naked, Kane kept going on about taking a drive. “I have something I want you to see.”

  “Okay, okay. I just thought we weren’t going to get dressed today.”

  He kissed my bare shoulder. “We’ll only be out for a couple of hours. Then we can come back here and discard as many garments as you like.”

  He wouldn’t tell me where we were going, not even once we were in the car. In fact, he’d made the suggestion he should blindfold me. I put the kibosh on that right quick. No way was I getting car sick for whatever harebrained scheme he had going on.

  Besides, once we crossed the Mississippi river and headed down Highway 90, I had no idea where we were anyway. I’d only been south of New Orleans once and that had been to pick up the airboats.

  After about twenty miles, he exited the freeway and turned onto a state highway. Five minutes later we entered the quaintest little town I’d ever seen. Wood-sided cottages lined the residential streets. Main Street looked like something out of a movie set, and people waved from the sidewalks as we drove by.

  “Kane? Do these people know you?”

  He smiled mysteriously. “You’ll see.”

  No amount of badgering pried any information out of him, so I sat back and enjoyed the southern charm. Soon enough, we came up on a historical plantation home. A giant oak tree claimed the front lawn, complete with a mass of Spanish moss.

  “It looks just like a painting,” I said as Kane turned into the driveway.

  “You like it?”

  “Like it? I love it. It’s gorgeous. Are we taking a tour?”

  He didn’t answer as he pulled the car to a stop. A few seconds later, he hopped out of the driver’s seat and opened my door.

  “What are you up to?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

  His smile turned to a grin.

  The door swung open as we climbed the front steps to the massive wraparound deck, and a well put-together southern woman stepped out, holding a clipboard. Her blue silk blouse and black A-line skirt fit flawlessly on her trim body. “Welcome to Summer House. You couldn’t have picked a better day for a visit.”

  I gave her a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “This way.” She ushered us into the turn of the century home, its foyer bigger than my entire apartment. We moved into the grand great room, where the rich oak stairs curved gracefully to the second floor. I sighed, imagining Scarlett O’Hara running down the steps into Rhett’s arms.

  “Through here,” the guide said, not bothering to give us a history on the place. The house was gorgeous, but the tour sucked.

  “Lord help her if there’s a comment card to fill out at the end of this thing,” I mumbled to Kane.

  He suppressed a laugh. We entered what could only be called a parlor, and I gasped. My mom and Gwen and all my friends, Kat, Pyper, Ian, Lucien, Charlie, Lailah, and Bea, sat around a large mahogany table.

  “Surprise!” they yelled in unison.

  “What’s this?” I asked, stunned.

  Kane put his arm around me. “It’s sort of an engagement brunch.”

  Warmth spread in my heart and my lips quirked. “A what?”

  He shrugged. “You needed to get out and everyone wanted to see you, so instead of a party, we arranged a brunch.”

  “Complete with wedding planning strategies.” Pyper waved a notebook. “Go on, tell her the rest.”

  Kane grinned sheepishly at me and led me back into the great hall. “What do you think?”

  I glanced around. “Of what? The house?”

  “Of getting married here.”

  It was the last thing I’d expected him to say.

  “We don’t have to have it here,” he went on. “It’s just this is where my grandparents had their ceremony, and I always thought it must have been something magical to see. I want that for us, but only if you do.”

  The love shining through his eyes when he said those words was more than enough to make me fall in love all over again. I reached up and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’d love to.”

  He pulled me close, kissing me slowly.

  We broke apart, and I snuggled into his chest. “I guess that means we need to pick a date. I bet they’re booked for months,” I said wistfully.

  He cleared his throat.

  I leaned back and looked up at him. “Don’t tell me you already reserved one.”

  “Not exactly. The house isn’t usually available for weddings. Fortunately, I happen to know the owner.”

  “And this owner would be…?”

  He grinned.

  “Kane?”

  He gathered me close again and whispered in my ear. “You. The house is your wedding presen
t.”

  “What?” I stepped back, clutching the railing of the stairwell to steady myself. “You bought this place for me?”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth. “No, I already owned it. Mamaw left it to me. You said you always wanted to live in a farmhouse. I thought this might be close enough.”

  My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “You…I mean… How come you didn’t tell me you owned another house?” I waved my hand around. “Look at this place. It’s…it’s unreal.”

  A guilty smile turned his lips up. “I did say I had other property.”

  “Yeah! I thought you meant you had other commercial buildings. Not a freakin’ historical treasure.”

  “You like it then? You’ll accept it as a wedding gift?”

  I stared at him, wondering if he’d lost his mind. “You can’t give this place to me. It’s your family house.”

  “You’re my family, Jade.” He gently pulled me back into his embrace. “The month you were gone? I’m never going through that again. You’re stuck with me. Marry me. Live with me here or in the city or in Idaho. I don’t care. Everything I have is yours as long as you promise to be my wife.”

  I stared into those wonderful chocolate-brown eyes and melted all over again. I cleared my throat. “Is the tour guide always here?”

  “You mean, Jillian? The house manager?” Kane furrowed his brow in confusion. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting the random question.

  “Yeah, her.”

  “No, she only comes when there’s an event to coordinate. Why?”

  I grinned. “I’m wondering how fast we can ditch everyone and christen the master bedroom. I’d like to test run my role as Mrs. Rouquette.”

  Kane let out a whoop, picked me up, and spun me around.

  I laughed, and he lowered me to my feet, crushing his lips to mine.

  When we finally came up for air, Pyper stood off to the side, tapping her foot. “Cool it, horn dogs. We spent a lot of time planning this shindig. Get your sorry asses back to the party so we can celebrate.”

  I saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She spun on her heel and we followed. Right before we joined the others, Kane whispered in my ear. “One hour, tops.”

  Giggling, I tugged him into the parlor, where the people closest to us waited. The family I never thought I’d have. The family I cherished. And with my second chance on life, I wasn’t ever letting go.

  About the Author

  Deanna is a native Californian, transplanted to the slower paced lifestyle of southeastern Louisiana. When she isn’t writing, she is often goofing off with her husband in New Orleans, playing with her two shih tzu dogs, making glass beads, or out hocking her wares at various bead shows across the country. Want the next book in the series? Visit www.DeannaChase.com to sign up for the New Releases email list. Look for Influential Magic, the first of a new series, to be released this winter.

  Other Books by Deanna:

  Haunted on Bourbon Street

  Witches of Bourbon Street

  Witches of Bourbon Street Excerpt

  I sat cross-legged in Bea’s cheery, yellow living room, trying not to scowl. White witch, my ass. After two hours of trying to manipulate my so-called power, I was ready to tell Bea and her nephew, Ian, exactly what they could do with their magic lessons.

  Only, I couldn’t.

  While battling with an evil spirit three months ago, Bea’s energy had been compromised, and she’d never recovered. For some ungodly reason she was convinced I was a witch and the answer for a cure.

  I took in the dark circles rimming her eyes and her pale, waxy skin. The vibrant southern lady I’d come to admire had been replaced by a tired shell of an elderly woman destined for a retirement village.

  All my irritation vanished. I had to do something. Anything.

  Determined to get it right this time, I held one hand out to Bea and the other to Ian. Sweat trickled the length of my nose. It clung to the tip before landing silently on the patchwork area rug. For the hundredth time that day, I opened my senses, trying to harness Ian’s energy and hold it in my awareness long enough to transfer it to Bea. Ian’s anxious anticipation pressed against my skin, making me flinch.

  “Focus, Jade,” Bea said. “Remember what I said about compartmentalizing.”

  Stop focusing on what Ian is feeling, and focus on his essence.

  When I’d given her a blank look, she’d gone on to explain: The essence of an individual is made up of both their soul and spirit. Spirit is basically life energy, while the soul is what gives a person the ability to feel compassion, love, and all the things that make one human.

  Okay. Essence. I could do that. I’d done it before, only I’d thought of it as emotional energy. Somewhere in the corner of my mind, I closed the door on my empath ability. The three of us sat there holding sweaty hands as I tried to mentally connect with Ian. As usual, nothing happened. All right. Time for a new tactic. Instead of trying to get into his head, I concentrated on his heart. Slowly, the threads of Ian’s inner light started to tickle my senses. I imagined a siphon attached to a glass beaker and focused on capturing the essence Bea needed to be strong again. A swirly mist started to fill my beaker.

  Success! After weeks of instruction, I’d finally grasped the technique Bea insisted I had the skill to master. Elation caused me to redouble my efforts.

  With a full container of mist, I turned my attention to Bea, intent on sending her nephew’s strong energy into her being. Instantly, my imaginary beaker exploded. Ian’s hard-won healing essence evaporated into nothing.

  “Damn it,” I growled.

  “Negativity won’t help anything, dear.” Bea slumped back against her sunflower print loveseat.

  Argh! I yelled in my head and looked at Ian helplessly.

  He wiped his face with a cloth handkerchief and stood. “I’m getting some more tea. Anyone else?”

  “Please.” I pulled my shirt away from my body and leaned toward the oscillating fan to my left.

  Ian studied his aunt. “Bea? Tea or water?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.” She rose gracefully to her feet then settled into the loveseat under a ray of sunshine. She tilted her face, warming it in the light. With each passing day, her ability to stay warm diminished, and despite the stifling heat, she wore black slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, topped with a cardigan sweater.

  Just looking at her raised my internal temperature ten degrees. I stood. “I’ll be outside. I need a break.”

  “I’ll meet you out there,” Ian said from the kitchen.

  With effort, I managed to not slam the French door behind me as I escaped to the screened-in patio. The overhead fans rotated full force, showering me with a steady stream of much-needed air. I sat directly beneath one and stared out onto the perfectly manicured lawn, edged with a vibrant bed of hibiscus plants. What else would one expect from a carriage home in the Garden District of New Orleans?

  While it was still beautiful, I missed the variety of colorful annuals that had long since given up in the summer heat. I’d offered to help Bea with the fall garden, but she’d waved me off, saying I had better things to do with my time.

  Like figure out how to energy meld. After banishing Roy—an evil spirit who used to haunt the club in my building—Bea had never fully recovered, leaving her cold and weak. When her doctor didn’t find anything wrong, he’d prescribed a vitamin regimen. It wasn’t helping, though Bea had said all along she knew it wouldn’t. Her essence had been zapped, and there were only two ways to restore it: time or the help of another witch. But not just any witch. Apparently it took a white witch. Something both Bea and Lailah—her shop assistant—insisted I was. I didn’t agree. I’m an empath, someone who can read others’ emotions, not a witch. Or at least not a powerful one, judging by my lack of ability to transfer Ian’s energy to Bea.

  The door squeaked and Ian’s frustration reached me before he did. “It’s not working.” He handed me a tall glass of s
weet tea and sat down opposite me, stretching out his long, gangly legs.

  “I told you not to get your hopes up.” I took a long sip and didn’t make eye contact.

  “If you had a better attitude, it would help.”

  My head snapped up. I opened my mouth, ready to let him know exactly what I thought of his opinion, but closed it. The fatigue etched around his pale blue eyes gave him a hollowed-out, almost ghostly appearance. If he hadn’t been so worried about his aunt, it would have been funny, considering his obsession with ghost hunting.

  I breathed deeply, trying to release some of my bottled-up frustration. “I’m trying.”

  “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I only meant positive energy flows more freely and all that crap.” He brushed back his sweat-dampened, sandy blond hair.

  I laughed. “All that crap?”

  He shrugged, giving me the first real smile I’d seen on him in days. I searched for a resemblance of the man I’d met three months earlier, after a ghost scare in my apartment. That day he’d been all smiles, easygoing, and dressed in all black, looking very much like a pro skateboarder. Today he wore khaki shorts and a pinstriped, button-down, short-sleeved cotton shirt. Only the Converse shoes remained from his previous persona.

  “What’s with the makeover? I thought T-shirts and jeans were all you owned,” I teased.

  He glanced down at his shirt, looking pained. “I’m a little behind on laundry. Plus, with the heat in there, this is a little cooler.”

  Sobering, I leaned in. “She’s getting worse, isn’t she?” It seemed each time I saw her, Bea got a little paler and a little thinner. If I couldn’t master the energy meld soon and transfer some healthy energy to her…I didn’t want to finish the thought.

  Ian nodded. “I’ve been noticing her decline for the last few weeks. But I don’t understand it. Enough time has gone by that she should be getting better.”

  I bit my lip. “Maybe it’s her age. Older folks don’t bounce back as easily.”

  “She’s not that old. In her sixties, I think. She makes sure none of us know what year she was really born in.”