The Hexorcist

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Are you from around here?” Ofelia decided to change the subject. She wanted to learn more about the detective, if only so she could wrap her head around his motivations.

  “I’m from the Baton Rouge area,” Sully replied, internally cursing himself. That was a lie. Sure, it was a handy lie, one that he’d whipped out on more than one occasion, but it was a lie all the same. He honestly didn’t live all that far from Baton Rouge — less than an hour away — but the truth of his upbringing was something he preferred to keep to himself. “I went to LSU and studied criminology and then came here for the academy.”

  “Did you know you wanted to work here, or did you consider a job up in Baton Rouge first?”

  He shrugged. The questions weren’t particularly probing and yet he understood she was digging. He couldn’t figure out what she was hoping to find. “I wanted to be here. I think I always wanted to be here. I’m a big fan of the city.”

  That made two of them. Ofelia couldn’t imagine living anywhere else ... although she had for a brief period of time. “You’re still an outsider,” she said after a beat. “You don’t know the ins and outs of the area ... or the people ... or the ghosts that haunt the street.” She threw in that last part to test him.

  They were now second in line, something Sully was grateful for. He recognized she was trying to extract information from him in a unique way and opted to give her what she wanted ... at least to a certain extent. “I’ve been in New Orleans for five years now. I joined the force right after I graduated from the academy.”

  Ofelia was instantly suspicious. “How did you manage that? Most cops have to get on a waiting list.”

  “I test well,” he replied calmly. “It’s not as if I was a detective from the start. I was on the normal Bourbon Street beat for two years before I received my first promotion.”

  Ofelia did the math in her head. “Still, you’re young to be a detective,” she noted as they moved to the front of the line. “Most cops don’t earn that distinction until they’re in their thirties.”

  “What makes you think I’m not thirty?”

  She stilled, internally kicking herself for making a hasty assumption. “Fair point. How old are you?”

  He smirked. “Twenty-nine and a half.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Very cute.”

  “I try.” He moved to the cashier and dug for his wallet. “I’ll have the chicory,” he said, sliding his eyes to Ofelia. “What do you want?”

  “I’ll have a fat-free cafe au lait,” she replied.

  He frowned. “Fat-free?” He looked her up and down. “You don’t need fat-free.”

  Despite herself, the comment warmed her. “Thank you. I like to save the bulk of my calories for actual food, though.”

  “We’ll have three orders of beignets, too,” Sully said to the cashier, his eyes never moving from Ofelia. Something unsaid passed between them, something heavy enough that they both felt it clinging to the air even though they couldn’t give a name to what they were feeling. “What does Henrietta want to drink?”

  The question was enough to break the spell. Ofelia snorted out a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not? I said I would buy her coffee and beignets.”

  “Yeah, but ... she’s gone.”

  He straightened, craning his neck down the hallway that Henrietta had disappeared through. “What do you mean? She’s in the bathroom.”

  “Oh, you really are an outsider.” Ofelia lightly patted his arm, doing her best to ignore how hot his skin felt under her hand. “She was never having coffee and beignets with us. She used the bathroom excuse to get away. If I had to guess, she’s already back at Jackson Square telling fortunes.”

  Sully worked his jaw. “She played me.”

  “She did,” Ofelia agreed, smirking. “Anyone familiar with the Quarter would’ve recognized that.”

  He frowned. “I’m familiar with the Quarter. I’ve been here for years.”

  “I’ve never seen you before.”

  “Do you know everybody?”

  “Everybody worth knowing.”

  “Well ... obviously that’s not true, because I’m awesome.”

  Ofelia had to press her lips together to keep from laughing. She let him pay for the coffees and beignets and then moved with him toward a quiet table in the corner. Having a private conversation at Cafe du Monde in two weeks would be out of the question. The run-up to Mardi Gras would make it impossible to enjoy Jackson Square for a full two months. Ofelia was happy to take advantage of the situation for the time being.

  “Do you plan on staying in New Orleans?” she asked as she grabbed a beignet. They were warm, to the point where she knew they would practically melt in her mouth. They were a particular weakness of hers and she wanted to groan in delight when she bit in.

  Sully smirked as he watched her enjoy her treat. He liked the way she licked the powdered sugar off her fingertips. He also liked the way she smiled. And that scent. Ugh. Even though the coffee and beignets were overpowering, he could still scent her through the din. He had no idea why he was so fixated on that scent, but he couldn’t ignore it.

  “I like the city,” he replied. “I’m renting right now, an apartment that’s just off Burgundy Street. I would like to buy a condo or townhouse at some point.”

  “In the Quarter?”

  He hesitated. “I love the Quarter,” he said finally. “I don’t know that I would want to spend a lot of money to buy a place here, though. Nine months out of the year it’s lovely. The other three months, though ... .” He involuntarily shuddered. “I think I would like a place in the CBD or Garden District. I haven’t made a decision yet, though.”

  She nodded, thoughtful. “I can see you in both places.”

  He didn’t know if that was a compliment or insult. “What about you?” He leaned back in his chair and sipped his chicory. “Where do you live?”

  “Above the bar.”

  He furrowed his brow. “You live in the Bancroft?” He’d never heard of anyone doing that. “How did you swing that?”

  Ofelia chuckled. “I don’t live in the Bancroft. There’s space above Krewe that’s separate from the hotel. I think it might’ve been storage space for the hotel at one time, but my father made them a deal on the space after Katrina. It was easier to split renovations. Now it’s completely separate from the hotel ... and I live there.”

  “I see. How much space are we talking?”

  She smirked. “I don’t live in a closet, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s about two-thousand square feet.”

  “That sounds comfortable.” He cupped his hands around his mug and studied the angles of her face. “How come your father sold the business to you? He seems sort of young to retire.”

  Ofelia wasn’t expecting the question. “Oh, well ... .” Honestly, the inner workings of her family were none of his business. Despite that, she found herself telling him the truth. “After he and my mother split he went through something of a ... phase. He started dating anyone with a pulse, even going so far as to compete with my brother for girlfriends. He ignored the bar because he was having a mid-life crisis and when I suggested I take it over, he agreed. We struck a price, he helped me get a loan through a friend of his, and now I own the bar and he does whatever he wants.”

  Sully’s lips quirked. “He competed with your brother for girlfriends?”

  “I should’ve known you would pick up on that particular tidbit.” She rolled her eyes. “He was just lost after the split with my mother. They didn’t belong together, don’t get me wrong, but it was still hard for him. They spent the better part of twenty years together raising us, but they were never more than friends. I don’t think they had a lot of passion, although their relationship was easy enough ... except for the last five years when all they did was fight.”

  “Why do you think they fought?”

  Ofelia had given this a lot of thought and come up with her own theory. “Because the
first fifteen years they assumed everyone else felt the same way they did, as if they were going through the motions. They did what they were supposed to do, after all.

  “They got married, had two children, started a business, made money, and contributed to local charities,” she continued. “They were pillars of their community and never caused any scandal ... until they realized that love was real and other people truly cherished their mates.”

  Sully’s eyebrows knit together. “This story is turning sad.”

  She laughed at his response. “I didn’t mean to bring down the mood. My parents are both happier now. They no longer fight ... although they only see each other every few months, when their paths cross because they have to do something for my brother or me. My mother is remarried and my father is something of a man whore. Thankfully I convinced him to get a vasectomy four years ago so I don’t have to worry about any little half-siblings coming out of the woodwork.”

  Sully had no idea what to make of the story. “That is ... .”

  “An overshare,” Ofelia finished. “I shouldn’t have told you that story. It’s not like you care.”

  “I care,” he countered. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care.”

  “Yeah, well ... what about your parents?” She figured if she had to answer personal questions about her family, it was only fair that he do the same.

  “My parents are lifers.”

  “Do they live in Baton Rouge?”

  He nodded. “Divorce isn’t really an option in my family. They don’t always get along but there’s no chance they’ll separate so it’s something we simply live with.”

  “We? Do you have siblings?”

  “Three sisters.”

  The way his lips curved told her exactly how he felt about that. “Are they older?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How did you know that?”

  “Because it makes sense. Three girls and you. They were trying for a boy. My brother is older than me. If they’d had another boy, I think my parents would’ve kept going until they had a girl, too. My mother really wanted one.”

  “Does that mean you’re close with your mother?”

  “I’m actually closer with my father, believe it or not. My mother gives me nonstop grief. She’s closer with my brother.”

  “And your father seems constantly agitated with your brother, if his reaction earlier this morning is any indication.”

  Ofelia nodded, her mouth going tight. “My father has unrealistic expectations when it comes to my brother.”

  “It sounds to me as if he wants him to get a job.”

  “Oh, he definitely wants him to get a job. What he doesn’t understand is that it’s easy for some people to find jobs because they know what they want to do. For other people, though ... .”

  “It’s not easy,” he surmised. “I get it. I always knew I wanted to be a police officer. My parents put up a fight, thought it was too dangerous of a job, but I never wavered and got my way. Did you always know you wanted to be a business owner?”

  She nodded, a smile dancing around her lips. “I always loved Krewe. I felt at home there. It was never much of a question which one of us would take over the business. My brother hated it and I loved it.”

  “And that’s why you bonded with your father more than your mother. He understood the love you had for the bar.”

  “That’s essentially my life in a nutshell.”

  He laughed ... and then sobered. “What were you really doing with Henrietta? I was coming to find her myself because I had a few questions. I’m curious why you were with her.”

  “Oh, well, it was just one of those things.” Ofelia was purposely evasive. “I was walking by Jackson Square and I saw her. I thought ‘I haven’t seen Henrietta in a long time. I should totally take her for coffee.’ So that’s what I did.”

  He wasn’t an idiot. She was a smooth liar when she put some effort into it — like now — but he didn’t believe her for a second. “And this has nothing to do with the body that was found in the alley by your business this morning, huh?”

  She adopted an air of innocence. “Why would it?”

  He didn’t have an answer ready so he merely sat there and stared. He was about to grill her harder when a tall man wearing one of the badges they required for the cemetery tour guides approached their table. He had dark hair, broad shoulders, and he was completely zeroed in on Ofelia.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” the man announced, his eyes flashing. “I heard you were in Jackson Square, but I couldn’t find you. I’m familiar with your fondness for beignets so I hoped you would be here.” He didn’t wait to be offered a beignet. Instead, he simply stole one from Ofelia’s container. “We have a situation and you have to come with me.”

  Confused, and a little annoyed at the interruption, Sully fixed the interloper with an arrogant stare. “We’re in the middle of something.”

  The man shifted his eyes to Sully and frowned. “Well ... I guess it sucks to be you then.” He grabbed Ofelia’s arm and gave it a tug. “We need to talk. Right now ... and in private.” His gaze was pointed when it darted to Sully.

  Recognizing his tone, Ofelia let out a long sigh. “Fine.” She held her hands palms out in apology to Sully. “I’m sorry. I need to be going. Thanks for the beignets, though.” She stood and grinned. “Good luck tracking down Henrietta, too. She’s going to be watching for you now.”

  Sully balked. “We’re not done talking.”

  “We have to be for today. I have things to do. I’m sure I’ll see you around, though.” She offered him a half wave and then moved with the man toward the exit. “This had better be good,” she said as they moved out of Sully’s sightline. “I wasn’t done with my beignets and you know how much I love them.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  OUTSIDE THE CAFE, OFELIA lodged her hands on her hips and pinned her brother with a pointed glare. “What’s your damage now?”

  “Dad is on a rampage and I need you to talk to him.” Felix put his hand to Ofelia’s back to prod her in the direction he wanted. “You’re the only one who can talk him down when he gets like this.”

  Ofelia’s expression was rueful. “What did you do to him? Does this have something to do with the fact that you’re wearing a tour guide badge? Seriously, how many jobs do you have right now?”

  Felix shrugged, unbothered. “I have enough jobs to make a living, and not enough that I feel overwhelmed. You know I like to stay busy.”

  “I do.” Ofelia paused as they passed the man serving as a human statue at the courtyard corner. “I thought you were doing this for a while.”

  Felix’s lips flattened. “I was, but I gave it up ... at least for now. I thought being a statue all day would be fun, refreshing even, but do you have any idea how hard it is to get that paint out of every crack and crevice?”

  Ofelia was horrified at the notion. “Ugh. You’re so gross.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “That’s a rarity.” She brushed the back of her hand against her forehead. The days were starting to get warmer, which meant tourist season was almost upon them. She enjoyed the cooler winter days, when highs only made it into the fifties and sixties and she could enjoy a nice walk on the river without risking sunstroke. “What’s Dad complaining about now?”

  “What is he always complaining about?”

  “You and Mom.”

  “Well ... .”

  “Oh, no.” Ofelia hated how whiny the exclamation came out, but it was too late to take it back. “He’s not complaining about Mom again, is he?”

  “That’s exactly who he’s complaining about. He’s not a happy man.”

  “Well ... great.” Ofelia spared a glance for the row of tables she found Henrietta at earlier and found the woman had disappeared, taking her tarot cards and personal belongings with her. That meant she’d made a beeline back to grab her stuff ... and then fled. Ofelia couldn’t help wondering what she was running from. For no
w, it didn’t matter, though. “I’ll talk to him, but I’m not guaranteeing anything. If he goes off, I’m leaving him for you to deal with.”

  Felix’s glare was withering. “You’re all heart, sis.”

  “I do my best.”

  Six

  Oscar was indeed in a snit when Ofelia and Felix returned to Krewe. He was so worked up, in fact, he was destroying the place.

  “I can’t believe she had the audacity to do this!” He tossed a stool to the side and viciously kicked the railing underneath the bar. “I just can’t believe it!”

  Ofelia glanced around at the mess her father had made. Instead of being angry, though, she was resigned. Another thing about her father that helped propel the end of her parents’ marriage was her father’s temper. He never physically hurt her mother, of course. That was something Ofelia would never be able to forgive ... and would’ve caused Felix to go on a tear of his own. He did yell, though, and he was bossy. No matter how he tried to control his temper, he could never go more than a few months without having a fit.

  “I’m sorry,” Felix offered when he saw the chaos. “He wasn’t this bad when I left. He was just getting started. I thought ... .”

  He didn’t have to finish. Ofelia knew what he was going to say. He thought she would be able to talk down their father before he got out of control. That was her special ability, although no one knew exactly why she was the only one he would listen to. It made for difficult familial ties. Marie was always agitated because she assumed Ofelia preferred her father to her mother — which was true in some cases, because Marie’s brand of horror was different from Oscar’s meltdowns, but no less traumatic — but in reality Ofelia merely knew she was the one who had to control her father. There was no question about whether she would do it. He was family, and you take care of family.