[Bayou Gavotte 03.0] Heart of Constantine

by Barbara Monajem

  “I don’t remember. It was ages ago.”

  “No, it wasn’t!” Janie scoffed. “It was last month. We were manning the Magical Oils booth in the town square, and you kept going on and on about how Eaton Wilson gave it to you.”

  “You must be mistaken.” Glennis pressed her lips together, martyr-like.

  Janie smirked. “No, I remember wondering how you could possibly want to sleep with such a dork.”

  “He’s not a dork!” Glennis cried. “He’s a gentleman, and you’re disgusting. You never think of anything but sex. Such spells are an improper use of magic. They’ll come back to bite you, and you’ll be sorry!”

  “Hey, if that sex spell I’m sending Constantine bounces onto a vampire, I’ll be very happy.” Janie grinned. “If it lands on Eaton, I’ll barf.”

  “Your spell wouldn’t affect him anyway,” Glennis said passionately. “He’s too good.”

  “What if it turns out he’s not so angelic after all? What’ll you do then?” Janie cast a coy glance Constantine’s way as she taunted the other witch. Without the slightest hesitation, he responded with more sexual pull. If Marguerite didn’t like it, she could lump it.

  She was watching him, but as far as he could tell, she didn’t react at all.

  “We’ll ask Eaton,” Lavonia said firmly, looking as if she couldn’t decide which of the players in this dumb drama pissed her off more. Constantine sent her a little buzz just for the fun of it.

  Lavonia’s eyes grew wide, and Marguerite bit her lip on what he was sure was a smile. Yes! A peacock pranced through his head in full display.

  Lavonia cleared her throat. “He’ll remember if he gave her the necklace, and if so, he’ll know where he got it, and that might lead us to the source of the beads.”

  Janie wasn’t about to leave her spot in the limelight. She put her hands on her hips. “Maybe we don’t need to ask Eaton. What color was the van that chased you, Marguerite? What make?”

  “A Ford, black as far as I could tell, or maybe a very dark blue or green. Why?”

  “Cha-ching!” Janie spread her hands. “Eaton Wilson has an old black Ford van.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  It wasn’t Eaton,” Marguerite said flatly, but Glennis let out a yowl of fury and lunged. She got in one resounding slap at Janie’s face before Constantine slid smoothly in to separate them with a lot of aura force and scarcely a touch.

  Marguerite sprang up to take Glennis back to the couch. Janie took advantage of Constantine’s proximity to cling to him; his aura shot her a hot, sensual pulse before he peeled her away and handed her off to Joan. He wasn’t turned on by Janie at all, just playing her.

  “Janie, you should be ashamed of yourself.” Marguerite put an arm around Glennis. “Eaton’s completely harmless, and you know it.”

  Janie responded with a malicious little smile. Marguerite let out a breath. Things would not be pretty when Janie figured out she was a pawn in Constantine’s game.

  Whatever that was. He hadn’t seemed surprised at Janie’s revelation, but he leapt on Marguerite’s immediate defense of Eaton. “Are you saying there was something about the man who chased you that definitely marks him as ‘not Eaton’”?

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything physical, but she hadn’t had much of a look. She couldn’t explain that Eaton simply couldn’t have had her attacker’s aura. “No, but Eaton wouldn’t do something like that. He’s a good person, as Glennis said. And if he has a black van, I’ve certainly never seen it. He usually drives a Volvo.”

  Constantine surveyed Lavonia and Joan, nudging them with his aura. Did they have any sense of what he was doing?

  Lavonia sighed. “It’s true about the van. He doesn’t use it much, though, except for carrying lumber or furniture or whatever. He loaned it to me to pick up a dresser I bought not long ago, which is how I know. But I can’t picture him stalking and chasing somebody.”

  “He’s been auditing an anthropology course,” Joan admitted—she was the secretary of that department at Hellebore U—“but that doesn’t prove a thing.” She passed a box of tissues to Glennis.

  “He’s a gentle soul,” Lavonia said. “A New Age hippie, totally into peace and love.” She put up her chin at Constantine. “You were on the mound this morning up in that oak tree. I have no idea how you managed to stay out of sight, but you must have heard what Eaton said. He’s the one who wants to experiment with visions on the mound.”

  Janie had been pouting again, but she pounced on this. “See what I mean? He’s nuts. He used to pester us about Celtic myths and Wiccan rites. Before that, it was Hindu goddesses. Now he’s into Native American religions. Who knows? Maybe he’s having visions ordering him to kill people.”

  “You bitch!” Glennis sobbed. “How can you say such awful things?”

  “Just trying to get to the truth,” Janie said. “Right, Constantine?”

  “Yes,” he said, “the truth.” His aura flared, and Janie backed right into the sofa and plopped down. “Easy enough to ask Eaton,” he added coolly.

  Janie bounced up again. “You can’t trust him to give a straight answer. He’s got some weird-ass shit going on right now. I know, because I went to Alabama with him a while ago.”

  Glennis raised her eyes from a clump of soggy tissues. “You what?”

  Janie’s shrug could only be called insolent. “Seeing as it was my first time casting a sex spell, I figured I’d try it on Eaton, because a hard-up, dorky sort of dude should be easy, right? And he sure was. Fell like a tree and asked me to spend the weekend with him.”

  Glennis paled. Something shot out from Constantine’s aura and tapped Janie upside the head.

  “The whole truth,” Janie said, almost as if she were talking to herself. “I wish I’d bespelled him earlier, because he’d already made his plans and wouldn’t budge. We went to these dumb Indian mounds and walked and walked and walked, and he tried to convince me to talk to Constantine about his research on visions. He took measurements and drew maps, and went on and on about performing sacred ceremonies to cleanse the earth, which he figured Constantine would relate to. Ritual fires and purifying drinks and a bunch of other crap.”

  “Knives?” Constantine smiled at her.

  “N-no.” Janie gazed back, all adoration. “Not that I remember. But that doesn’t mean he’s not crazy.”

  “How about songs or prayers?”

  “Yes!” Janie arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward, eyes half-closed. “He even tried one of your songs, but he can’t sing worth a flip. But the weirdest of all was that he’s still madly in love with Veronica Bonnard.”

  A shiver traversed Constantine’s aura, dark and swift, and hung there. “Bonnard. A relation of Zeb’s?”

  “She was his mother,” Lavonia said, “but she’s been dead for several years.”

  He shrugged, and the shiver dissolved and was gone.

  Janie came to herself and realized she wasn’t the center of attention anymore. “I mean, how boring would it be, screwing a guy who can’t stop talking about a dead woman? So I didn’t bother with him in the end.”

  Glennis straightened, pale with dignity and blotchy with tears. “No, he turned you down.” As if she’d been let off a leash, she grabbed the string of beads and stuffed it into her bag. “And I’m leaving!”

  “Going to warn Eaton that Constantine is after him?” mocked Janie with a triumphant glance at the rock star, but Glennis was already out the door.

  Constantine motioned with his chin to Marguerite. “Thanks again, ladies. Come on, gorgeous. Let’s get you back to bed.”

  The expression on Janie’s face would have been priceless if it hadn’t been so enraged. Marguerite downed the rest of her coffee and thanked them all again. Outdoors, they watched Glennis zoom away.

  Marguerite’s car was parked across the street. Jabez must have dropped it off while they were inside. She opened the rear door for Lawless. “I’m going to follow her.”

  “W
hy? You don’t believe Eaton did it.”

  “I want to see what happens when she tells him what’s going on.” She got into the driver’s seat and started the car. “You can come if you promise not to hurt him.” Which was an entirely ridiculous thing to say, and she knew it.

  “If he’s innocent, he’s safe. I won’t condemn him on the say-so of some dumb chick trying to impress me.”

  Marguerite took off after Glennis. “It was creepy how you played her. How you played all of them.”

  His voice went hard, his aura prickly. “For a second or two there, I thought you were enjoying it.”

  “Oh, it was definitely cool. But it’s still creepy, and Janie will refuse to talk to me for months.” She added ruefully, “On the other hand, your adoring female fans must love it.”

  “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Those bitter little prickles shot in all directions. “Songs, visions, feel-good vibes, even orgasms for the luckiest ones, and the result is lots and lots of sales. It’s just hunky-dory, babe, but sometimes it backfires.”

  “You mean obsessive fans? Or women who realize you’ve just been playing with them and that you don’t really want them at all?”

  “You do see a lot, don’t you, Marguerite? I bet you could do a mighty fine job of playing me, if you wanted to.”

  “I’m just trying to understand you. I don’t want to play anyone!”

  “I’m not sure I know how to do anything else,” he said. “It’s how I’ve survived.”

  “Right.” Might as well jump in. “As a matter of interest, did you kill anybody at the Threshold tonight?”

  His aura flared. “Tony’s been blabbing. What else did he tell you?”

  “Nothing I hadn’t figured out for myself, such as that killing people isn’t good for you.”

  “It so happens I didn’t kill anyone. I just watched from the shadows. Nobody saw me, but club management must have gotten word that the underworld was going to send a spy, because nobody even came near breaking the rules. Nobody was underage, all the participants seemed willing, and the guy we were particularly interested in didn’t even take out a knife.” They turned onto Eaton’s street. Constantine’s voice was a chill wind in the hot, dense chorus of the Louisiana summer night. “The scumbag could use a good fright, but what kind of nightmares should I send someone who likes cutting games? He may get off on being the victim if it’s just a dream, or the fear may excite him even more. Don’t want to encourage the asshole.” She felt him shrug in the darkness. “It’s an entertaining creative exercise.”

  “Some of your songs,” she said. “They’re dreams you’ve sent people, aren’t they?” Specifically, the one he’d sent her uncle, but she couldn’t discuss that. “Not your way of thinking, but your take on others or on what would frighten them.” She sighed. “That explains it, I guess. Your love songs are so beautiful, and some of your stuff is unbelievably spiritual. It didn’t seem to fit together, but now it does.”

  “Don’t get too comfy about me, babe.” He was right. She should be cautious; she should make a point of staying unnerved. Even if he hadn’t beaten or killed anyone tonight, he’d done it before and would do it again. She shouldn’t want to be with him at all.

  Instead, desire crawled all over her, powerful and intense. This must be some dumb reverse psychology at work, she thought irritably. What she couldn’t have, she wanted even more.

  But… were these her own feelings, or was he now playing her? She glanced at him. Arousal glowed in his aura. He caught her eye, and his aura reached out and danced with hers. His aura confirmed the source of her feelings. Auras were often less vivid in the dark, but arousal tended to show regardless.

  “Damn it,” she said. “You’re thinking about sex again.”

  “Always, when I’m with you, darlin’.”

  “Control yourself, for God’s sake.” Which was unfair of her, because she was pretty sure a good part of that arousal had been her own. Mutual chemistry, each of them feeding upon the other’s desire…

  Dragging her focus back where it belonged, she pulled up behind Glennis’s car in front of Eaton’s old two-story clapboard. The porch light was on, along with a low light in the front room.

  Constantine was out before she’d turned off the car, and Lawless bounced up, eager to join the party. “I forgot about Eaton’s dog,” Marguerite said. “She’s a yappy little thing, and she might be in the yard. Lawless likes her.”

  “Sorry, boy. Not this time.” Constantine’s aura gentled briefly. “Go to sleep. We’ll be back.”

  Lawless yawned, circled a couple of times, curled up on the back seat, and closed his eyes. Warmth and sadness swept over Marguerite. This was a Constantine she liked.

  “Go ahead and try the front windows while I check for the dog,” he said. She tiptoed up the front steps, watching as he slipped around the side, his aura stretching ahead of him toward the back garden. Eaton’s dog yipped once, then subsided completely.

  Marguerite peered through the blinds, but the front room was empty. She hurried around the side of the house. Constantine had braced himself between a drainpipe and a crepe myrtle to peek in the kitchen window. “Too bad neither of us has vampire hearing, although so far it’s pretty obvious. He’s making coffee and looking bewildered while she waxes hysterical.”

  “I don’t think he’s much of an actor,” Marguerite said. “Come down and give me a boost. If I can just see him, I’ll feel more comfortable about leaving.”

  “Take my word for it, all he’s doing right now is trying to wake up.”

  Why was Constantine stalling? “Come on,” she said, “I want to see him.”

  “Want to? Or need to?”

  “Fine. I’ll go onto the deck and peek through the back door.”

  “Not a good idea,” Constantine said. “The dog’s there. I’m having a hell of a time keeping it from yapping as is.”

  “Then pick me up so I can see in the window!”

  “That’s an even worse idea,” he said, jumping down. He lifted her, one firm hand on her hip and the other curled around her thigh. Pleasure raked down her with merciless teeth. She gasped, arched back, and slumped against him. “Told you,” he said.

  She straightened furiously. Embarrassment took over, anger on its tail, while her core throbbed anxiously, demanding more. “What is the matter with you? If you don’t want it, stop thinking about it!” She got ahold of herself and peered in the window. Glennis was getting mugs from the cupboard while Eaton, dressed in a T-shirt and boxers, tipped maple cookies onto a plate. What hair he had stuck out in all directions.

  “See? Nothing interesting. You could have just believed me,” Constantine said. “Or did you need to see him?”

  “Yes, I needed to,” she said. “And you need to keep your desires locked up inside you where they belong. He’s coming toward the window. Let me down.”

  He did—so quickly she almost fell.

  Above them, the kitchen window slid up. “I don’t know about the van, Glennis,” Eaton was saying. “I left it at the mechanic’s for a tune-up before I went out of town this morning. That’s better. There’s a nice breeze tonight.” His voice and footsteps receded.

  “Did you ‘suggest’ that he open the window?” Marguerite whispered.

  “We want to hear them, don’t we?” His murmur tickled her ear, kindling tiny fires down below.

  Mentally, she doused the fires with ice-cold Coke. “He’s innocent. I’m sure of it. But in the interest of not playing stupid games, I don’t think Janie was lying either—just putting her spin on things.”

  “Uh-huh.” Constantine blew on her ear. “Mostly, she confirmed what I already knew.”

  “Stop that!” Marguerite hissed and backed into a holly bush with a muffled yelp. “What do you mean, already knew?”

  “Tsk.” He put his fingers to his lips. “We can’t have an open window with you making all that noise.”

  “It’s your damned fault—” She shushed her
self just in time.

  “The open window makes me nervous.” That was Glennis. She pushed it sharply shut.

  Obviously enjoying himself, Constantine climbed back to his former perch. “The cops haven’t found the vehicle yet, but Gideon told me this afternoon that Wilson owns a black van.”

  “That’s why you weren’t surprised about it,” Marguerite said, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

  He chuckled. “The secret of your Sight is safe with me, babe, but it would be even safer if I knew what it was.” He let that sit, but she waited him out. After a while, he said, “Some guy with a dark van—I call him Dancing Dude—comes to the mounds to sing and pray at night from time to time. Weak voice, off-key. Wilson was humming one of my songs this morning on the mounds. That, coupled with his interest in rituals…” She felt him shrug in the night. “He was out all day in the Volvo and returned shortly after the black van showed up at your place.”

  It hit her like a slap. “You already believed him innocent. You were playing me, too, first by agreeing to come to Eaton’s place, and then by messing with my defenses!”

  He jumped down. “Just trying to understand you. Are you pissed off yet?”

  “Always, when I’m with you.” she said irritably. “Darlin’.”

  “So why insist on associating yourself with me? By what Tony tells me, Nathan got a whole new load of shit tonight to put out there on the Internet.”

  “Yep,” she said, suddenly glum. “He’ll say I’m screwing you, Tony, and Zeb, and he’ll imply there are dozens of others as well. He’ll say that’s what comes of being brought up surrounded by porn stars, when actually it made me completely lose interest in sex.”

  “Completely?” His mouth was mere inches from hers, his aura a devilish sizzle in the hot night.

  “Almost completely.” She turned away. “Please don’t do this to me if you don’t intend to follow through.” Now that he was out of the way, she pulled herself up by the drainpipe and braced herself against the window. “Eaton’s properly awake and frowning. Standing there with a mug dangling from his hand, just like the one we found on the mound. Looking incredulous. Glennis is opening her laptop, chattering like a squirrel the whole time. I bet she’s going to show him the story about you and me on the mound. Eaton’s pretty oblivious, so he may not have heard about it, or if he did, he may not have given it a second thought.”