Chapter 5 – First Assignment
“No one else would take this case,” Delilah reminded Boone as they settled in for their first assignment together as partners.
“This is just plain creepy,” Boone shuddered as he looked around.
“I think there is another term for grave robbers but at the moment, my brain cells are frozen,” Delilah shivered wrapping her coat around her. Delilah had received another black leather duster to replace the one Boone had cut. And yes, Boone was shocked by the cost. But as promised, he paid for it and with a smile.
“It is damn cold out here,” Boone shivered and surprised he could see his breath. “It wasn’t this cold this afternoon.”
“I figured it would be a bit warmer here than in Colorado. Sorry,” Delilah apologized while trying to stifle the noise being made by her teeth as she shivered.
“At least it is not knee high to our asses with snow,” Boone laughed trying to make the best of a bad situation. Even with his normal body temperature being warmer than humans, he was chilled to the bone.
“But it is cold, dark and creepy. I sure could use a giant bonfire or an electric blanket about now.”
"I think the fire would give us away, and unless you can find a very long extension cord, we are fresh out of warmth,” Boone chuckled again.
“I would be happy with a thermos full of hot chocolate or fur blanket,” Delilah mused.
“Now that I can help with,” Boone chortled.
“Uh?”
“I could turn wolf and help keep you warm,” Boone suggested. “I would be warmer too.”
“But then we could not talk,” Delilah pouted.
“You could talk. I could listen,” Boone offered.
“What would I talk about?”
“You, your daddy, your family,” Boone hinted.
“I have a couple of things I still have to do before I can tell you my story. I would have thought you would have figured it out by now. There have been plenty of hints.”
“Like what?”
“Like, I cannot tell you. Not yet, Hooxei.”
“Cut the Hooxei crap. You call me Hooxei only when you want to get your way,” Boone seethed. “It is getting a bit old Delilah. Quit trying to manipulate me.” Boone was pissed. His patience was wearing thin. Delilah knew more about him than he did. And he knew nothing about her. Even though she knew she could trust him, she had not disclosed anything about herself or her family.
Delilah knew Boone felt betrayed by her secrecy. Before Delilah could reply, Boone stood and turned wolf. He lay down next to Delilah so she could keep warm.
“I am sorry, Boone,” Delilah said sincerely. “I will tell you everything very soon. It is just so complicated. You will understand once you know everything.”
Hooxei growled lowly but snuggled closer to Delilah to warm her. Delilah moved as close as she could to him. “Much better,” she cooed. “Thank you, Hooxei.”
The duo looked out over the dead quiet cemetery. It was one of the oldest burial grounds in New Orleans. Like tiny concrete houses built in rows, the dead were buried above ground due to the high water table. Nearly half of New Orleans was at or slightly below sea level. It took nothing more than a heavy rain for buried coffins to float to the surface; literally pop right out of the ground. The practice of burying the dead above ground was centuries old. In addition to coffins and caskets popping out of the ground, many believed their water supply would be contaminated as a result of the Yellow Fever epidemic which killed thousands in the 1800’s. There were between eight and twelve thousand deaths in 1853 alone. Growing up in Baton Rouge, Delilah remembered how her family would never travel to New Orleans during the summer months for fear of contracting the deadly disease. It was 1905 before scientists realized mosquitoes were the cause of the illness which had plagued the city since 1817.
Many of the tombs and the wall crypts or “ovens” were no longer white but gray and crumbling. Families would buy crypts knowing the tombs could be used over and over again. Because of the heat and humidity in the “Cities of the Dead”, a corpse would reduce itself to ash in merely a year and a day like a mini crematorium. After sweeping out the ash, another body could be interned in its place. Crypts became financially practical as well. In essence, they could be rented for 366 days.
“Someone is looting the cemetery looking for valuables. Not the new crypts but the older ones. They must believe the older families were buried with money, jewels, gold, or other artifacts,” Delilah reminded Boone. Of course, he knew all this, but Delilah was spooked and needed to talk. The silence only added to their fears. There were no sounds in the centuries-old cemetery. No trees, no crickets, nothing. Boone could feel Delilah move even closer, not to keep warm but to feel safe and protected.
Hurricane and floods had done irreparable damage to the tombs over the centuries. The nearly full moon in the night sky only added to the eeriness of the cemetery which was surrounded by a tall iron fence. Even in the middle of the day, the sounds of the busy streets were muffled making the cemeteries quiet. There was no artificial lighting to break the solid black night. Legends of specters, both human, and animal, were a part of the everyday legends of the city and its people. Nearly everyone had a ghost story to tell whether personal or passed on by a relative or a friend of a friend.
“They say the cemeteries of New Orleans are the most haunted in the world. Voodoo, Hoodoo, witch doctors, witches; more weirdoes than you can name live in this city,” Delilah continued. “This cemetery is over 200 years old.”
Delilah stopped. Talking about the cemetery was not making it less scary; it was making it even more frightening.
Boone growled lowly to show he was listening. However, deep down, he was just as spooked as Delilah. They had taken the job to escape the winter wonderland of Colorado. They had hoped for a quick ending to the case and then spend a few days as tourists in the Big Easy. It was the third night of their stake out, and they were no closer to solving the case than on the first night.
“We are going to have to step it up if we are going to solve this case,” Delilah whispered. “We might have to actually investigate this one. Who knows when these tomb raiders are going to return? With the way our luck has been going this week, they may have moved on to another cemetery, and we are sitting out here freezing our asses off for nothing.”
Delilah remained silent for a few minutes. The silence was unnerving her deep into her soul. “Two more hours and then I need something to warm me from the inside out. I am going to need some mulled wine.”
Boone nodded his head in agreement. He was becoming addicted to the sweet red wine Delilah drank. Boone rarely drank his once beloved beer when they were together. He was convinced it was the honey. It tasted like Delilah. He could still remember how her blood tasted; sweet. He was addicted to both the taste and the smell.
Delilah looked at her watch and marked the time. Boone gazed up into the night sky and marked the position of the moon. “Two hours,” Delilah repeated as she snuggled up closer to Boone.
Red Wolf Page 12