Christophe agreed to lay low. “I have been seeing someone, so it is easier to avoid her. She never bothers me except when she needs me to go along on house calls, which I can still do. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Liz fell asleep with her sketch pad at her side. She’d been sketching a portrait of Alex. It was an exhausting process for her, as she kept looking at her favorite snapshot of her, and trying to capture every line in the corners of her smiling eyes and every strand of hair. She talked to the picture under her breath, unaware that she was even doing it, but finding some small comfort in talking to her.
Kirby was at the bar, giving Liz a much needed break on a quiet Saturday. She and Vivienne had made plans for later that evening.
She dreamt that she was walking in the Marigny, no street lights but just the moonlight guiding her through the darkness. She was walking down the middle of a street. Houses were shuttered on either side of her, and it was eerily quiet. She came to an intersection, and her choices were to go to her left away from the river, to continue forward, or to turn right and travel toward the Mississippi. She stopped and tried to look down each way, but it was too dark to see. She could hear laughter, though, from her left. She started to move that way when she saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye to the right. Suddenly, there stood Alex, just out of reach. She didn’t speak, but motioned for Liz to follow her. Liz felt frozen, and she could still hear the laughter to her left, and a voice underneath the laughter saying the name she’d heard before in dreams: Daniela. Alex was standing still, shaking her head no. As Liz moved toward her, she disappeared, and the sound of laughter got louder. She made the choice to start running to her right, hoping to see Alex again. She ran on for what seemed forever, and as ran, the sounds of laughter behind her faded and were drowned out by the sound her breathing and of her feet on the pavement. Just as she reached the point where she could see the river ahead of her, the air filled with the sound of a horn like from a ship, but the water was dark and quiet, just as the streets were. At the same moment, she saw Alex ahead of her, running and as she leapt into the air, she seemed to float over the water and shimmered for a moment before disappearing again.
Liz’s face was wet with tears when she woke up, and she woke to the sound of her own sobbing. Once she composed herself, she saw that she had been hard asleep for a few hours and the afternoon was gone. She had to hurry to get dressed and ready to meet Vivienne. She put on the St. Brigid’s medal, and even though she felt silly thinking it might comfort her, it did somehow. She dressed and took off to meet Vivienne at The Ruby.
Her initial feeling as she stepped out of the house and into the night was relief. Unlike her dream, which was so dark, the real life neighborhood’s street lights helped cheer her up a bit as she left the dream behind her. There were a few couples out as well, and by the time she made it to the bar, she felt a great deal better. Entering, she saw Vivienne talking to the handsome man she’d seen in Washington Square and at the bar and it dawned on her that he must be Vivienne’s brother, Christophe. As she got closer, she could see the resemblance and how they were the same warm honey color. Vivienne’s eyes didn’t look as other-wordly as her brother’s, but she was every bit as handsome.
“There you are! Liz, this is my brother, Christophe.” Christophe stood up from his bar stool and extended his hand to Liz. When she took it, he raised it to his lips, brushing the back of her hand with them. Normally, Liz would have found such a gesture incredibly affected and corny. Somehow, though, when Christophe did it, she felt a tingle run up her back as if all of the tiny hairs were standing at attention, and she could feel a blush chasing the goose bumps. He smiled as he let go of her hand. “Oh, we’ve met before, Vi, but I’m happy for the formal introduction.”
He kissed Vivienne on the cheek and drained his glass. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’ve got plans of my own this evening. I can’t think of anyone better to entertain my sister, Liz, than you.”
After Christophe left, Liz and Vivienne had time for a round of drinks before heading to dinner. Because Kirby and Deanie were there and likely to listen in on the conversation, Liz didn’t mention the dream until she and Vivienne were alone at Mona’s on Frenchmen Street.
“I had the oddest dream this afternoon. I was sketching a picture of Alex, and fell asleep. I saw her in the dream, but she didn’t speak at all.” Liz told her about the dream.
“I was going to ask you if the dreams had abated.” Vivienne took a sip of water and considered what Liz had just described. “You mentioned the sound of a boat horn. Is it was possible you heard a conch shell being blown?” She fiddled with her phone, looking for an example of the sound. She found several on YouTube, and other diners certainly looked toward her table as the phone clearly sounded off.
“That’s exactly it!” Liz exclaimed. “It was deafening. How did you know?”
Vivienne nodded and put the phone away. “What you dreamt of was of Agwe, our Loa who is sort of like your Neptune. He lives in the sea in a castle under water. He cries for those who are lost. In one of his incarnations, is the captain of Immamou, the ship that transported the dead to the afterlife. I suspect that is why you dreamt of him. He also represents direction, which the dream obviously indicates. The crossroads are significant. Choosing the left hand path is often the term used to describe magic practitioners who work dark magic, so it is good you chose to go to the right. When someone is suffering from turmoil or loss, or simply looking for direction in their lives, Agwe is who to ask.” She smiled a tiny smile. “I think, Liz, you are more Voodoo than either of us ever guessed.”
“Why couldn’t she speak, though?”
Vivienne shook her head. “It is difficult to say; it sounds that she definitely wanted to communicate something to you. When people are possessed by Agwe, they often cannot speak and if they make verbal sounds at all, it is said that they only make the sounds of the ocean when they open their mouths, or that the sound of the conch shell comes from them. That’s probably why you heard the sound. Perhaps the dream is the whole message; maybe Alex was letting you know she’s on the other side.”
Liz pondered that for a moment. “I still have her ashes, and will cast them on the river on the Feast of St. Ann’s. But she looked so distressed. Is it possible she can’t cross over?”
Vivienne nodded, “It is possible. There are some rituals and spells we can try to open the channels of communication more effectively, perhaps.” She considered not telling Liz about her dream involving her mother, but it seemed like it was important the she do so. “Actually, I think I should share something with you. I dreamt of and communicated with my mother recently in a dream.”
As she said this, she pulled the slip of paper she’d taken from Rosalie’s altar from her wallet and handed it to Liz. “I think we’re supposed to help each other.”
Vivienne didn’t do necromancy herself, nor did she know anyone who did such work. “Have you considered a hypnotist? It’s possible that your subconscious is the real messenger.”
Liz shook her head. “I’ve never really been susceptible to hypnotism, which was part of why the possession during the bar blessing was such a surprise. You would think with my sleep walking tendencies that I would be, but I haven’t been. I also want to remember what is said if there is actual communication. I still don’t remember anything about the possession by Brigitte, and I don’t know that I trust a hypnotist. I trust you.” Liz felt herself blushing again.
Vivienne understood her concerns. “I do know some people who do divination and scrying in their practice. Would you be willing to see someone if I went with you?”
“Absolutely.” Liz picked at her dinner. The whole conversation made her feel on edge. “I am exhausted by all of this, Vivienne.”
They made plans to meet up the next afternoon. Vivienne promised to put in a couple of calls to people who might be able to help.
Chapter Th
irty-Eight
While Liz and Vivienne were on their date, Christophe was at Vivienne’s house with Olivia. “I don’t want to take it because she’ll miss it and know I took it.” He had a key to his sister’s house, just as she had one to his quarters. They had never had any reason not to trust one another.
Olivia waited quietly as Christophe walked through the room, avoiding moving anything or leaving a trace they were there. He knew that they had plenty of time. Vivienne had indicated to him that she and Liz were going to catch some music after dinner. He soon found the pages he was looking for and he motioned for Olivia to come to him.
“Here it is. Can you read it?” He handed her the paper. The hand was clear and legible. She read it quickly and he could hear her chuckle when she was done.
She kissed him on the mouth. “Christophe, my dear, you have surpassed my expectations in oh so many ways.” She read through the pages again quickly, committing the important details to memory.
To celebrate, Olivia suggested a trip to the Casbah to watch Morrigan at work. Christophe was less than thrilled, as he’d hoped Olivia would reward him handsomely, and the idea of going to a Bourbon Street strip club was not what he had in mind.
He could see why Tiffany was popular with the crowd, as she had good technical skill, but to him she was just another stripper. She worked the pole and the crowd in a calculating manner that he found to be a bit of a turn off. Her own disinterest was like that of all of the other dancers; she played the part well, but it was obvious to him that was all it was, at least up to the point that she spotted him and Olivia in the club. After her set, she made the rounds, trolling for private dances, and she stopped and let out a tiny gasp when she saw Olivia. She sat at their table, suddenly fawning over Olivia in a way that made her interest in her very clear.
“You came back! I’m so glad to see you. Did you enjoy my stage set? Do you think I’m convincing as Morrigan?”
Olivia smiled. “You definitely work the crowd well and have the look down. Have any of Morrigan’s regulars come in to see you?”
“Oh, plenty. They can’t wait until I start an act with another dancer, like when Wren and I danced together. Frank wants to wait a little while before that, though. He figures we’ll let this wave die down a bit and use the doubles dance as a way to drive up business.” She stopped talking long enough to realize Olivia was not alone. “Oh, who is this?” She winked at Christophe. He thought she seemed stuck between the image she was trying really hard to portray and her inner hayseed, homespun girl identity. He did have to admire her willingness to give herself a makeover to look like someone else to turn a buck, though.
“This is my good friend Christophe. He’s a bit shy around new people.”
Tiffany offered a couple’s discount, but Olivia declined. “Perhaps another time. I don’t think I’m quite ready to share either of you.”
Christophe thought to himself that this was a great relief. He had no interest in anyone but Olivia, and certainly was not enticed by this vacuous bubble-head, no matter how she was dressed up. He could feel Olivia’s cool hand on his thigh, and he hoped that meant she was ready to leave with him. Soon they did leave, going back to her house, where she rewarded him for a job well done.
Christophe confessed as they undressed one another that he’d been worried that she would send him off with Tiffany or suggest they bring her home with them. “She just seems so vacuous. I’m glad that I don’t have to share you tonight.” He pulled her close, and she laughed. “Oh, darling, trust me. When I’m done with little Tiffany, you’ll be more than glad to have her join in the fun.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Luckily, Vivienne had a great number of connections, and was able to find a friend who could fit them in by the end of the week. Friday afternoon finally arrived, and Vivienne stopped by the bar to pick up Liz. She could tell she was nervous as she gathered her jacket and her messenger bag. Vivienne assured her that the medium they were going to see had a solid reputation and that all she knew was that Liz needed to make contact with Alex. She also had agreed to record the session so they could all review it afterward.
Alicia Martine, or simply “Martine” as she preferred to be called, was an older woman, and her place of business was also her house. Vivienne drove Liz to the large house uptown, and Liz noticed that even though it was clear Martine had done well for herself that there were no identifying signs or indicators of any kind that she practiced outside of her home. Vivienne had explained to Liz that most of the practitioners who were worth seeing didn’t charge. Martine had been gifted much in her lifetime by grateful clients, but she never charged a dime. She’d also been blessed with other abilities that allowed her to make money.
Martine was also a counselor, so Vivienne decided she was the best fit. Liz wasn’t sure what she expected, exactly, but when Alicia Martine opened the door, she was surprised. She looked like anyone’s aunt. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a light sweater. She was in her early 60s by Vivienne’s reporting, but she could easily pass for her 40s. The only give away was the amount of grey in her hair, which she wore loose. It was long with a wave to it. She had an easy smile, which immediately put Liz at ease.
“Come in! I’m so glad to meet you, Liz. Vivienne, it has been far too long since I’ve seen you.” They entered the house, which was beautifully outfitted with choice antiques. Martine certainly had good taste. She showed them to a room toward the back of the house that looked out into the back yard. This was her office space in the house, and she’d lit a white candle in the center of a table that was flanked by four chairs. She motioned for the other two women to have a seat. She sat between them with Vivienne on her right and Liz on her left.
“Before we get started, Liz, let me tell you a few things about what you might expect and what I know already about your situation, which is very little. I know that you and Alex were a couple, and of course I know about her horrible murder and that Wren Anderson killed her. And I know that you’ve come to me to see if I can help you communicate with her.”
Liz nodded. “That’s it in a nutshell. Vivienne said that having a personal item might help.” She took off her watch. “This was hers. She wore it all the time.” The watch was set on a wide leather cuff band, the leather still warm from Liz’s skin. It was soft and supple from wear. She handed the watch to Martine. “What do I need to do?”
“Nothing other than sit quietly and think of her.” She got up from the chair and closed the blinds, blocking out the sun. The light in the room was soft and provided by the candle and a couple of low wattage lamps.
“There is no guarantee that this will work; when there is contact with the other side, sometimes it’s not always who you want to speak to who comes through. Sometimes, I will get vague images that I can describe to you and that you then have to interpret. Other times, the contact is much more direct.” She sat down in the chair again and picked up the watch. “I will turn inward and try to open myself up. We’ll see if we get anything. If we do, try not to express shock or make any sudden movements, as it can disrupt things.”
Liz felt like they should all be holding hands, but realized her ideas of what a session like this must be like came from cheesy movies. Martine sat back down and picked up the watch. Holding it between her hands, she became quiet and still. Her breathing got slower and deeper, and Liz thought she was falling asleep. Just at the point she was almost under, her eyes flew open. She didn’t speak at first, but seemed confused and unfamiliar with the room. Her eyes finally rested on Liz and she smiled. “You found someone who can help.”
Liz couldn’t believe what she was hearing; somehow Martine’s voice had changed and she sounded like Alex. She was too surprised to speak, so she merely nodded.
Alex continued to speak through the medium. “I have to tell you what I heard as I died, Lizzie. Wren wasn’t alone at the end. Dr. Holmwood, Olivia, was there and they fought. I could hear them from a distance as I was slipping away, my
blood spilling on the floor, my heart slowing. Wren said something about Daniela; it was like she thought I was someone else. She told Olivia she was trying to turn me. Olivia merely laughed at her. Sweetheart, Olivia claims you are Daniela.” Liz could hear a buzzing in her ears, as if she was about to pass out. Right before she did, she heard Alex’s voice say, “Olivia laughed and said Wren was too late and that she had already turned you.”
Vivienne saw Liz tilt forward as she went under, and she moved to catch her before she pitched forward out of the chair. Martine was still channeling Alex. She put a hand on Vivienne’s arm, looking her in the eye. “Please help her. I don’t know who to ask and she needs someone to make sure she takes the right path at the crossroads. Vivienne put her hand over Martine’s. “I promise.”
She turned to Liz, and as she revived her, Martine began to cry. She didn’t sob, but tears ran down her face and there was a steady whimper as she covered her face and cried harder. Liz got on her knees in front of Martine and hugged her, not knowing what else to do. She kept saying as she cried, “I didn’t protect you then, and now I can’t.” Liz held her as she cried and then a few moments later, the crying stopped and Martine returned to herself.
They all listened to the recording together; Martine had no memory of the conversation, only a vague sense that she had been displaced for a time, and a feeling of exhaustion. She saw that Liz was distraught and comforted by the message all at the same time.
“She spoke of turning. Do you know what that means or refers to?” Vivienne asked Martine. Liz was still too stunned to formulate questions.
Martine shook her head. “I don’t. I wish I did have more insight, but I just become a conduit.” She turned to Liz. “Do you know what she meant?” Liz slowly shook her head, and it was clear that she wasn’t necessarily denying knowing what it meant, but more that she couldn’t fathom it.
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