When Miles was done, he opened his eyes. He looked almost like he had just woken up from a short nap, like he could have been nodding off a moment ago, but now alert. “All better?” he asked Sarah.
“Sure is, Miles! Thanks!” she beamed. She turned around, grabbed her coat and then addressed the line. “I’m better!”
The people in line gave a polite clap, happy for Sarah. The next person stepped up to the altar. He was a man of about forty who explained in a thick, raspy voice that he had polyps on his throat. Miles once again took a drop of holy water from the vial. He made the sign of the cross on the man’s throat and placed a hand over it. He said another prayer and concentrated for a couple of minutes. When he was done, the man was healed and thanked Miles with his new, smooth voice.
I was truly amazed. It was hard to tell with Sarah if she was cured or not, but I heard this man before Miles laid his hands on him and heard him now. Clothilde couldn’t heal anyone that quickly. I had often seen return clients with the same ailments, albeit less severe than the last time they came to Clothilde’s. But I had never seen anyone healed right on the spot, except Lyla, and that had taken a lot out of Clothilde. She had fainted from the energy being pulled through her. Miles was barely affected. I only noticed a hint of tiredness behind his eyes after he healed the man.
The next person was a woman who looked to be in her sixties. She came up to us with her right hand clenched around her left wrist. “Carpal Tunnel,” she said to Miles. He gave her an understanding nod and then turned to me.
“Ready to take this one?” he said.
My eyes widened and I felt my face flush. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I—”
He grabbed one of my hands and had me place my other hand on the woman’s wrist. He put a drop of holy water on her wrist and clasped his hand around it. We formed a circle with both of our hands holding her wrist. He began with the Our Father again and then the concentration began. I immediately felt a rush of heat pass through my body and into the woman’s wrist. As with Clothilde, it was a heat that did not hurt. After a moment, the woman said she no longer felt pain. Miles released us.
“Now you try the next one yourself,” he said to me as the woman left. I nervously nodded.
Next in line was a young guy who was probably twenty, but looked older. His complexion was sallow with surface scars. He was stick thin and had greasy, uncombed hair. His eyes shifted nervously from Miles to me and back to Miles. His eyes were red, and it looked as though he had been crying a little.
“What do you need help with?” asked Miles.
The young man bit at his lower lip and hesitated before removing his jacket. When he rolled up his sleeves, I saw puncture marks all over his arms and hardened veins that looked like like blue welts beneath the yellowish bruised skin. He looked down at the floor, embarrassed, a few tears forming in his eyes.
“I d-don’t want to be like this anymore,” he said, a couple of tears falling. He looked up at Miles and then at me, pleading with his eyes. “H-help me. Please. I—I don’t want to b-be like this.” He dropped his arms to his sides in defeat, more tears falling.
“We’ll help you,” said Miles. He looked at me. “Take his hands in yours,” he instructed. I hesitantly took his hands into mine. “Now say the Lord’s prayer,” he said. I did, and then he told me to concentrate and imagine a green light emanating from my body and into my hands, passing into the young man’s body.
I tried. And I tried. Again and again. I could picture the green light. I could see it in my mind’s eye, but I felt nothing.
The young man started to tremble, but not because he was feeling any sort of healing power coursing through his body. Soon, he was rocking back and forth in place, getting more anxious by the second. Nothing was happening. I couldn’t feel anything, no matter how hard I tried. Seconds passed by, then a minute. I was becoming more frustrated, and the guy rocking back and forth didn’t help the situation.
It scared me when he shouted, “Hurry up, you bitch!” I let go of his hands. His face immediately changed to one of regret and he began to cry again. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean that. I’m really, really sorry.”
“It’s all right,” said Miles, taking some holy water and making the sign of the cross on the guy’s forehead. He shushed him in a soothing voice, trying to calm him. It began to work. Miles held his hands and closed his eyes, praying. “You will overcome this addiction through the power of God. You will be restored anew, your mind and body healthy. Go now and be healed,” he murmured.
Within seconds, the young man stopped shaking. He was perfectly still, grounded. He opened his eyes. They looked clear and calm. “Oh, my God. Thank you. Thank you, thank you,” he said. He turned to me, again a look of deep regret. “I’m so sorry. That was horrible of me.”
“It’s okay,” I offered.
He smiled, kissed Miles’ hands, and left. Miles said nothing to me.
For the rest of the evening, Miles had me try to heal everyone who came in, seventeen people total. While trying to heal the tenth person—an elderly woman with bronchitis—I got excited when I began to feel a small amount of warmth coming from my core. As soon as I started to get excited, I lost my concentration and it was gone. I never regained that feeling, and Miles had to heal everyone.
When they were gone, he walked me to my car, said to get a good night’s sleep and that we’d try again tomorrow. He never said so, but I could sense the frustration and disappointment in him.
4
When You’re a Stranger
After a mentally exhausting day with Miles, I headed back to Cee Cee’s. On the way, I found myself wanting something to take the edge off. I didn’t feel like hanging with tourists, so I stopped at a bar near Tulane instead of going to Bourbon Street. College kids didn’t bother me, but I couldn’t take one more out-of-towner with a neck full of Mardi Gras beads when Mardi Gras parades hadn’t even started yet.
I stepped into the packed little club and was not surprised to see all the guys were wearing either Tulane sweatshirts or Saints football jerseys. Most of the girls were wearing miniskirts and tight, low-cut tops, despite the nip in the air. I managed to find a seat at the bar and ordered a Corona while I watched a basketball game on TV that didn’t hold my interest in the least.
“Hey, who you pullin’ for? Spurs or Knicks?” I glanced to my right to see a slightly cute guy in a faded Tulane t-shirt sitting next to me. He was nursing a beer and looking at the TV, but glancing at me in the corner of his eye.
“I’m sorry?” I said.
He motioned to the game and said, “Spurs or Knicks?”
“Oh. Knicks, I guess. Go Knicks,” I said, and he laughed at my utter lack of enthusiasm.
He looked me up and down, but not in an entirely creepy way. “So, what you majorin’ in?”
Is that the new pick up line for college kids these days? I wondered and laughed to myself, starting to feel flattered. “I don’t go to school here.”
“No? Where you go?”
“I don’t go anywhere. I graduated from U. L. Lafayette in 2005. And then I went to UCLA.”
“Oh, a’ight. Looks like I got me a cougar.”
“What?! Cougar?! Are you kidding me? I’m only twenty-six!”
“Oh a’ight now.” I glared at him. ”’kay, be cool, baby. You not into it. I get what you sayin’. Ain’t nothin’. Later, girl.” He backed up from the bar and moved onto some other girl by one of the pool tables.
Across from me, at the other end of the bar, was a very good-looking guy with a beer in hand, trying to stifle a laugh. I caught his eyes for a moment but he looked away toward the TV. He looked to be about my age, maybe a couple of years older. He was easy to spot because he was the only guy in the bar not wearing a team logo. His hair was jet black, short with a little height on top and short sideburns. I could make out a few muscles under his navy blue t-shirt. As he leaned against the bar, his elbow resting on a leather jacket that was as black as his
hair, I noticed a long, pink scar on the inside of his left forearm. His jeans looked like they were fitted just for him and, while I hadn’t gone in the bar looking for anything other than a drink, I was starting to want something else.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the caller ID. It was Lucas, and that suddenly made me feel guilty. I looked back at the other end of the bar, but the cute guy was gone. I scanned the room, but didn’t see him anywhere. I put my phone back in my pocket, deciding to call Lucas when I got back to Cee Cee’s. I wouldn’t have been able to hear him with all the noise, anyway.
I finished my drink, paid up and headed out. On the way back to Cee Cee’s, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being followed. I glanced in my rearview mirror and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. An impulsive urge overtook me and I made a right at the next light, even though I needed to keep going straight. I turned, and two other cars turned behind me. I made another right at the next light, and one car kept going, but the other, a ‘60-something, two-door, dark charcoal gray Charger, hesitated before continuing straight.
At the end of the block, I took a little longer at the light, checking my mirror to see if anyone was going to follow me. No one there. I laughed to myself, feeling foolish and took another right to head back to the main street. As soon as I turned, I saw headlights slowly coming from a couple of blocks behind me. It was just me and that car on the little side street. I waited at the stop sign, watching in my mirror before turning. As the car approached, my stomach sank a little as I noticed the metallic charcoal color of the Charger coming into view.
I hurried to turn right and got back on the main street. I checked in the mirror again and saw the Charger casually pull into the right lane to avoid the traffic in the left. It continued in my direction. I noticed the traffic light up ahead was about to turn yellow, so I sped up a little and made it just in time. I checked in the mirror again and saw that the Charger was now stopped at the light.
As I continued on to Cee Cee’s, I kept glancing in the mirror until the light behind me turned green and the Charger continued its normal pace in my direction. I sped up a little more until I got to the Quarter. I meandered through the streets, careful to avoid Bourbon, and, before I made my last turn before I got to Cee Cee’s, I stopped at the stop sign and looked around in all directions. There were a couple of taxis and some parked cars and that was all I saw. I made a left and parked in the alley behind the apartment.
I hurried out of my car and up the stairwell. I quickly unlocked the door with the key Cee Cee gave me, feeling like a scaredy cat as I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was behind me. Before I went in, I took one final look outside and saw nothing out of the ordinary. But just the same, I quickly shut and bolted the door.
The smell in the apartment instantly comforted me. Cee Cee had made a seafood gumbo while I was gone, and it smelled heavenly.
“Just in time!” she said, stirring the pot as I put my keys on the end table by the door. “Rice is just finished cooking.”
I looked at her with adoration and said, “I love you.”
She laughed and said, “I love you, too, my baby. Now come get you some. I made it special with a whole lot of shrimp and crab.”
I started to help myself to a bowl of gumbo when Cee Cee added, “So, how did your first day go?”
“All right,” I said, trying to sound happy, but she saw through me.
“You’ll get it, baby. Don’t you worry. Miles’ll turn you into a pro in no time!”
“I hope you’re right. I didn’t seem to be good for anything tonight.”
“It’s just your first day! Tomorrow you’ll do a little better and even more better day after that.”
After dinner, I took a shower and crawled into bed. My phone went off with a text alert. I checked it to see that Carrie, my best friend, had sent me a message.
You up?
Yep, I texted back, instantly feeling guilty for not visiting with her before I left to come to New Orleans. I’m sure she was going to fuss at me for that. Within seconds my phone rang.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey, you. I thought you were supposed to come and see me before you left.”
“Sorry. I had that funeral to go to the day before and then time just flew by.”
“Uh-huh,” she said with mock disdain.
“It’s true!” I laughed.
“Okay. I believe you. So what are you up to?”
Carrie knew that something was up with my family, but she didn’t know exactly what. Last year, while Lyla and I were spending the night at her house, the Dark Man showed up and nearly scared us half to death. The Dark Man, who we came to know as Walter Savoy, was a demon who wanted to do away with our family. I had explained to Carrie that it was a ghost. She knew it was something more, but hadn’t pressed me for details. I was grateful for that. Now it was a little hard to explain things from time to time. I had told her I was in New Orleans to visit Cee Cee and to look for jobs.
“Not much,” I replied. “Had an interview today, but it didn’t look promising.”
“Are you sure you can’t find work here? I might be able to get you a job at the hotel.” Carrie had been working at the Lafayette Hilton for five years now.
“That would be great! I’d like to stay in the Acadiana area, but I need to keep my options open.”
Carrie groaned sarcastically. “Alright! Leave me again!” she said over-dramatically. “My best friend keeps leaving me.” She was, of course, referring to the years I lived in Los Angeles.
“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject. “What did you do today?”
There was a slight pause, and her tone changed to slight worry. “I wanted to ask you something, and it’s totally okay with me if you say no, so don’t worry about hurting my feelings or anything like that, but if you said yes, that would be cool, but if you said no, I’d understand completely—”
“Just say it!” I laughed.
There was another pause and then, “Would you mind if … I asked Lucas out?”
Bitch! was my first thought, but hated myself for thinking that. Lucas and I weren’t dating or anything, but she knew that we had a connection and that I did like him.
“Leigh?” came the sound of her cautious voice over the phone.
“No, that’s fine,” I said, trying to sound like it didn’t bother me.
“Are you sure? Because, like I said, I’d be absolutely fine—”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, forcing myself to smile in hopes that my voice would match.
“Okay. Thank you! I doubt anything will come of it, but just so you know, anytime you feel uncomfortable, let me know.”
“It’s okay, Care. Y’all have a good time.”
“Thanks, girl.”
“Anytime.”
“Okay, gotta go. Talk to you later.”
“Later, girl.”
We hung up, and I put my phone on the little nightstand and turned out the light, trying to make myself believe that I was fine.
5
Nadia
When I pulled up into Miles’ driveway the next day, there was a white Prius already there. I parked on the side of it and must have sat in my car for ten minutes before I accepted that I could no longer put off my task and got down. I went to ring the bell, but noticed the door was open a crack. I politely knocked and opened the door wider.
“Hello?” I said, as I entered the foyer.
“Leigh, come in,” said Miles, gravely. He was standing next to a young, pretty woman with long, curly brown hair, brown eyes and lightly freckled, porcelain skin. She was in jeans and a white, button-down shirt. “This is Sister Nadia Ancelet,” he said.
“Sister?” I said.
Nadia smiled and shook my hand. “I’m with the Order of St. Geneviève. I’ve heard good things about you, Leigh,” she said, with a slight Parisian French accent. I raised one eyebrow, surprised that Miles would say good things about me.
“Cee Cee thinks highly of you,” she continued.
“Oh,” I said. I should have known it wasn’t Miles. I took in Nadia’s appearance. “So, where’s your habit?”
She laughed, and it was a lyrical shot of sunlight that seemed to brighten the darkness the mahogany and Miles’ grave face brought to the foyer. “My order is cloistered, but I’m not. Technically, I’m not a nun. I serve the order through common prayer, study, community life and service. I’m a social worker on behalf of the Dominican order, so I often wear plain clothes when working on cases. I wear proper attire for my duties at the convent.” Nadia was a very warm and inviting person, and I hoped that she would stay for awhile. It helped to have a buffer between Miles and me.
“Ah. Are you working on a case right now?” I asked.
“Sort of.” She looked at Miles with questioning eyes. He nodded his approval, and she turned back to me. “Cee Cee said you’re one of us.”
“You’re … a paladin, too?”
“Yes. I’m here to help track something down.”
“Yes,” said Miles. “And I think you should go now. Leigh, you go with Nadia.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Nadia gently grabbed me by the arm and led me to the door. “C’mon. I’ll explain on the way.”
Just as we got into Nadia’s Prius, a dark red Corvette blaring hip-hop Reggae from the speakers pulled up in the large driveway, coming to a stop diagonally across what could easily have been three parking spaces. The music stopped instantly as the ignition was turned off. The door opened and out stepped Ruby Baptiste. She passed an uninterested glance our way, and Nadia gave a polite wave. Ruby tilted her head up in recognition and walked up to Miles’ front door with all the predatory grace of a wild cat.
Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 02 - Dark Carnival Page 4