She was thoughtful as she watched him dote on the tiny animal. His open heart when it came to cats only made him more appealing, which should’ve been impossible. “I’ll think about it.”
Five
Oscar was behind the counter when Ofelia and Sully returned to Krewe. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the cat.
“What is that?”
“A tiny black panther,” Ofelia replied, not missing a beat.
“Where did you find it?”
“Hanging around the crime scene.”
“Maybe he did it.”
Ofelia made a face. “He weighs like half a pound.”
“It could be a trick.” Oscar narrowed his eyes at the kitten, who appeared perfectly happy in Ofelia’s arms. “You’re not keeping it, are you?”
“I ... haven’t decided yet,” she said after a beat. “Right now, I’m taking him upstairs and getting him some tuna.”
“And a litter box?” Oscar was feeling practical today. “You know cats crap in a box, right?”
“We technically do, too. We just call them bathrooms.”
“Yes, but you don’t have to scoop after we’re done.”
“I have some potting soil for the plants on the balcony,” she said. “I also have a box he can use. For now, he’s perfectly fine.”
Oscar’s eyes shifted to Sully. “Why do I think you had something to do with this?”
Sully merely shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with cats. In fact, they’re good companions ... and they’re perfect for someone like Ofelia, who works a lot of hours. Quite frankly, he’s also good for the business. As he gets bigger, he’ll frighten away the vermin.”
“I’m guessing not all the vermin.” Oscar’s gaze was heavy as Sully walked past him. “Are you going upstairs to help get the cat settled or something?”
The question set Ofelia’s teeth on edge. “Why does it matter?”
“I was just asking.” Oscar was suddenly the picture of innocence. “As your father, it’s my right to question the men in your life.”
“Since when is that the rule?”
“Since ... right now.” Oscar turned back to his newspaper. “Did you find anything up there?”
“Just a lot of bad energy. I’m not sure what to make of it yet.” Ofelia rubbed the kitten’s head with her chin. “I think I’m going to see Pascal. He might have some information.”
Sully arched an eyebrow. “Pascal the vampire?”
“Why do you always ask the question like that?” she challenged. “You know I’m friends with him.”
“Yeah, but he’s a vampire.”
“And you’re ... a really big kitty,” she pointed out. “We all have our crosses to bear.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not a kitty.”
“And yet that’s what I see when I look at you,” she teased, heading for the stairs that led to her apartment. “Now there’s a little kitty and a big kitty.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“No.”
“How would you like it if a called you a witch?”
“I am a witch.”
“Yeah, but ... .” He trailed off when he noticed Oscar’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Ofelia was obviously a master at getting under people’s skin. He knew better than engaging and yet he couldn’t stop himself. “Let’s just get this little guy settled. Once we’re done, I’m going to head to the registrar’s office and get the complete records on that building. We’ll go from there.”
Ofelia’s grin was a mischievous wonder. “That sounds like an absolutely fabulous idea to me.”
PASCAL FONTAINE WAS THE WORST sort of vampire. He owned a kitschy store that boasted “blood and fangs” at every corner. He took his cues from an old movie (although he claimed it was the book even though Ofelia was certain he’d never actually read it) called Interview with the Vampire. Essentially he was a vampire pretending to be a human pretending to be a vampire. It was all very convoluted.
Despite the show he enjoyed putting on for the tourists, he was a fountain of information and Ofelia was genuinely fond of him. She let herself into his store even though it wasn’t yet open. He rarely locked the door. Those in the know wouldn’t dare enter his inner sanctum without invitation and those oblivious to his true nature rarely bothered because they simply assumed the sign on the door that claimed the store didn’t open until the afternoon was accurate.
As per usual, Pascal sat in what looked like a garish throne flipping through a heavy tome when Ofelia walked in.
“It’s just me,” she offered, grinning when he glanced up. “You can go back to your regular reading material.”
“Thank the dark master,” he said, blowing out a sigh as he fished his copy of People from the center of the book. “Did you know that the Kardashians are rumored to have eaten their own placentas after giving birth because they believe it will keep them young forever?”
Ofelia blinked several times in rapid succession. “I did not know that. I guess you learn something new every day, huh?”
“Yeah.” He reclined in his chair and flipped a page. “What has you out and about so early? I’m guessing you need a favor.”
She tried to contain her scowl and failed. “I don’t only come here when I need something.”
“Not only, but a good seventy-five percent of the time that’s the drill.”
“It is not.”
“I’ve done the math.”
Ofelia’s scowl only deepened. “You’re a real pain in the keister. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“I’ve been alive for centuries and I can say with a relative degree of certainty that no one has ever used the word ‘keister’ with me. What’s up?”
Ofelia threw herself in the red velvet chair across from him. The windows were a special brand that didn’t allow UV rays to filter through. Because of that, they gave the store a dreary ambiance that Pascal fed off of. Ofelia, on the other hand, always felt depressed when she visited. “Did you hear what we found in the building next to Krewe last night?”
“Rats?”
“A body ... and then bones. A lot of bones.”
For the first time, Pascal showed genuine interest. “Really? How did they die?”
“Sully says the newest victim was strangled. They’re not sure on the older victims.”
“It would stand to reason they died in the same manner.”
“That’s my theory, but we need proof of that.” She hesitated and then barreled forward. “When my father heard about the discovery, he mentioned a story about missing girls from when I was a young teenager. I didn’t remember it, but he seemed certain.”
“Yes, the Bourbon Street Eight. I remember.”
Her lips curved down. “He didn’t use that term.”
“Nobody did. The newspapers tried, but the tourism board frowned on it and they backed off for advertising reasons. The people in the Quarter, the regulars, used that term. I picked it up from them.”
Ofelia mulled over the new information. “I don’t know why I can’t remember it. I would’ve been old enough for that to stick in my memory.”
“Yes, but you were still a child. I’m certain your parents did their best to keep you protected. As much as your father drives me crazy, he was always dedicated to keeping you and Felix safe. That hasn’t changed.”
“I guess.” She rubbed her cheek. “He said that there was a lot of concern before Katrina. Then the storm took over and the only thing people worried about was survival. Once everyone came back, the disappearances stopped. Is that how you remember it?”
Pascal pursed his lips, considering. “The time before Katrina was a prosperous one for the city. As you remember, the storm revealed certain ... problems ... within local political circles.”
“I was too young to absorb that firsthand. Afterward, though, I did a lot of research. There was a racial divide when it came to the evacuations.”
“There was,” he agreed. “The poorest individuals,
those who were in desperate need of help, refused to leave at first. All they had were their homes and they clung to them. As news of the severity of the storm spread, they realized their lives were more important than material possessions, but it was already too late.
“The levees could’ve gone sooner, and it was a miracle they didn’t,” he continued. “I know it’s weird to think about what happened as a miracle, but it truly was. We lost a lot of lives. Even more people were displaced and couldn’t return. Still, things could’ve been worse.”
“No matter how bad things get, they can always get worse,” Ofelia pointed out. “You stayed during the storm.”
“I did.”
“That was a risk.”
“Not really. There was no chance of me dying. I’m a vampire.”
“There was a chance of you being exposed.”
“That was never really a concern for me. Those who remained behind had other things on their mind besides me. I never called for help and I offered aid wherever I could.”
“My father says you saved hundreds of people.”
“How would Oscar know? He fled with you, although he waited much longer than he should have. Your mother had Felix and was beside herself because she was separated from you. She called, sent me to check on you. Did you know that?”
Ofelia shook her head. “No. I don’t remember that.”
“You were asleep when I arrived. The storm made it so I could go out during the day without worry. I’ll never forget finding your father that day. He was ... panicked.”
“About Krewe being destroyed?”
Amusement curved Pascal’s lips. “No, that he had somehow failed you. He was of the mind when things started that the forecasters were making something out of nothing. He’d survived more than one hurricane. This one, though ... .”
He took on a far-off expression, seeing into the past, and then shook his head to dislodge the heavy thoughts. “I was angry with him when I saw you. We argued. He was furious. Under that fury, though, was terror. It was in those moments I realized the truth.”
“And what was the truth?”
“He would give his life to protect you, but that was not a guaranteed bargain given what was happening.”
“So ... you helped him get me out of the city.”
“I did. I carried you through the streets. You never woke up because of the sleeping draught I gave you. I was convinced if you did that you would panic and that would make things worse, draw unwanted attention to us.
“I walked ten miles that day to get you to safety,” he continued. “What’s more impressive is that your father walked that distance in the water, too. He never complained. I couldn’t carry both of you. He made me swear that, no matter what, I would get you out of the city. He said if he fell behind ... .”
Ofelia swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t meant to know. Children shouldn’t feel the fear of adults. You slept, hopefully had good dreams, and when you woke you were reunited with your mother and brother.”
“I remember that.” She smiled at the memory. “Mom let us eat our weight in chocolate for dinner that night. She was usually a stickler about the healthy stuff ... but not that night.”
“Your mother isn’t all bad.” Pascal’s comment was pointed. He was well aware of Ofelia’s strained relationship with her mother. When her marriage disintegrated, Marie Archer (now Charles) expected her children to take sides. Ofelia refused to turn on her father. Things had never been the same between them. Until Oscar sought help, Marie wanted both her children to cut him off. That wasn’t something Ofelia was capable of, so things were forever strained.
“We’ll leave that debate for another day,” Ofelia said dryly. “Tell me about the city during the storm. You stayed. Could a predator have stayed, too? I mean ... is it possible our killer stayed behind and died in the process?”
“Anything is possible. The thing is, if our killer died back then, how does that explain your new body?”
“Sully says it could be a coincidence. The older bodies were hidden behind drywall.”
“Drywall that went up before or after Katrina?”
“I ... .” Ofelia hesitated. “That’s a very good question. Is there any way to ascertain that?”
“Building permits, but that’s assuming the proper permits were filed. In the aftermath of Katrina, a lot of construction corners were cut.”
“Yeah. That’s still all over the news.”
“It is.”
“What did you see?”
“Death. Destruction. Despair.”
“Can you be more specific?”
He chuckled at her practicality. “The city hasn’t completely recovered in a lot of ways. In others, it’s better than it was. People are prepared for storms now. They’re less likely to try and ride it out. In moments of trial, triumph often prevails.”
“That was beautiful. Cut the crap, though.”
“I love when you get bossy.” He winked at her and then sobered. “It’s difficult to give you a picture. I’ve lived a very long time so grasping certain moments isn’t easy. I remember every moment of that storm, though.
“I went to the streets to offer what help I could,” he continued. “Most of the police officers remained to carry out their duties. Some died. A very few fled their posts. No one blamed them, and yet the resilience of those who remained was something history should revere.
“Predators remained behind, too,” he continued, lost in the memory. “Some of them were of the gnat variety. They simply wanted to loot and steal. I frightened those I found but let them live. The others, though ... .”
An involuntary shudder ran down Ofelia’s spine thanks to his expression. “You killed the killers.”
“I did. I felt no compunction about it either. I’m sure their deaths were recorded as casualties of the storm, but there were a lot of them to dispatch. I remember one particularly vile monster who was trying to drag a young woman into an abandoned building. He intended to have his way with her and then lock her inside to drown.”
“I take it you stopped that.”
“I did. I stopped more than him. The thing is, for as many as I took out, I’m sure even more escaped. In the aftermath, some people were forced out of the city even though they didn’t want to go. It’s possible that’s what happened to your killer.”
“And ... what? Are you saying he was forced to evacuate and only managed to come back now?”
“It’s possible. It’s been years and yet some of our original residents are only now finding their way back. Even others consider themselves permanently displaced. They’ve created lives in other cities and it’s impossible for them to return, even if New Orleans has their hearts.”
“Huh. I hadn’t considered that.” Her mind was busy. “Maybe I should have Sully see if he can pull records from the evacuation cities. If girls were going missing here, it’s likely they started going missing in other places.”
“If your killer survived. It’s just as likely he didn’t.”
“Yeah.” Ofelia was bothered by so many things she didn’t know where to focus first. “What are the odds that a random killer managed to stumble across a forgotten killing ground?”
“I would need more variables to come up with an answer.”
“I wasn’t asking for an actual number.”
“Be more specific next time.” His grin was back. “If you’re asking for my opinion — and it’s just that because I have nothing concrete to back it up — I would say that possibility feels very small. That being said, the building in question has been abandoned for a long time. It would make an enticing hiding place.”
“Yeah.”
“May I ask who found the body?”
“Daisy Simmons. She’s the daughter of Phil Simmons. He bought the property and plans on renovating it.”
“To what end?”
“She didn’t say. She was a little rattled.”
“Robert Windsor. He’s dead.”
“Only recently, though. That’s a name I’m familiar with. Is it possible that he killed those girls?”
“And then suddenly stopped? Monsters can’t control their impulses. In this particular case, I’m guessing that our killer was either displaced by the storm ... or died. Those seem like the most likely options.”
“I would agree. Still, you might want to talk to those heathens he calls children.”
Amusement rolled through Ofelia as she barked out a laugh. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I feel that those children have never had to work a day in their lives so they don’t understand the value of sweat and determination. Everything has been given to them. They’re soft ... and entitled.”
There was something there, Ofelia realized. “Have you crossed paths with them?”
“Not directly. Even if I didn’t know their backgrounds, though, they would not be the sort of people I was drawn to.”
“And what sort of people is that?”
“Interesting people.” He was back to smiling. “You, for example, have always piqued my interest. Even as a child you said witty and insightful things.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that.”
“No, it’s true. The first time I met you was at Krewe. You were with your father. He never trusted me because I was a vampire, although it was worse back then. After Katrina, he came to grudgingly respect me. That day, though, he was furious I caught sight of you.”
“Why? It’s not as if you would ever feed on a child.”
“Not this century, certainly. Back in my more roguish days ... well ... let’s just say I have regrets. The day I met you, though, you figured out what I was right away. You’d just seen some movie about vampires attacking in the snow and you started asking me a million questions. Your father was both baffled and furious.”
“Did you answer the questions?”
“To the best of my ability. Your rational mind had issues with my answers and you delved deeper. Your father put an end to that conversation fairly quickly. I couldn’t blame him really. Still, it was entertaining.”
Witch Confidential Page 5