by L. T. Ryan
Despite knowing this was only a dream, Cassie was hesitant to disturb the moment. What if the man could sense her? What if the woman woke up? She didn’t want to intrude, but an unseen thread had wrapped itself around her chest and pulled her to the woman’s medical chart clipped to the end of the bed.
With deliberate movements, Cassie lifted the chart from its holder and looked down at the paper in front of her. She could see the words with crisp clarity but couldn’t read them. Jumbled letters filled the page like a message written in code. None of it made sense, no matter how long she stared at it.
The man in the chair let out a strangled sob and pressed his forehead against the woman’s hands. His lips moved in a silent prayer, and Cassie’s heart broke for him. She didn’t know what was happening to the woman, but she knew time was not on their side.
Cassie replaced the chart and returned to her spot beside the man. There was a low rumble and the room vibrated enough to rattle the machinery. The man didn’t seem to notice. His prayers went uninterrupted.
Cassie looked to the ceiling, afraid it might collapse and bury the three of them in rubble, but as soon as the sensation came, it also went. The floor was stable beneath her feet, and the distant noise was now just a memory.
But not everything was as it had once been.
When Cassie’s gaze returned to the scene before her, a fourth figure had emerged from the shadows. It was another woman, dressed in a white coat with a stethoscope wrapped around her neck. As the woman leaned forward, Cassie realized she didn’t quite belong. She wore low-heeled pumps and a plain gray A-line dress beneath her jacket. She had done up her chestnut hair in pin curls. Everything about her looked muted and faded—including skin that once had been the color of pale sand and now was almost khaki—except her eyes, which were a piercing hazel that stunned Cassie into silence.
If her wardrobe had not given her away, then the transparent sheen of her skin would have. Cassie knew, without a doubt, this woman had died decades ago, and yet here she was, looking more alive than the woman in the bed before them.
The Ghost Doctor leaned forward to fluff the woman’s pillow, and though she had no physical effect on the object, she stood back and surveyed her work as if satisfied. If the doctor registered anyone else in the room, she did a good job of ignoring them. She worked her way around the bed, straightening the blanket and tucking it under the woman’s feet.
When the room shook for a second time, Cassie’s gaze shot to the ceiling. The rumble was a little louder, and she could’ve sworn she felt something fall and hit her elbow. But it went quiet again, and the roof remained intact. When Cassie lowered her gaze, the Ghost Doctor stared directly at her.
Cassie had never seen a spirit like this one. She was almost solid, even bright compared to others she’d encountered. Even newer ghosts, ones who’d died only weeks or days beforehand, didn’t look as present as the Ghost Doctor did in this very moment. She didn’t flicker in and out of existence, and her hazel eyes stared unblinking, rooting Cassie to the spot.
The Ghost Doctor was the first to break eye contact, and when she did, she circled back around the bed, to the far side, and leaned over the woman. She whispered something Cassie couldn’t hear and then inched forward, as if waiting for a response. When she didn’t get one, the doctor checked her patient’s pulse, using the delicate watch on her wrist to time it.
But as soon as the Ghost Doctor took the woman’s hand in her own, alarms blared from the surrounding machines. The man jumped, first looking up at each individual screen and then back down to the woman in the bed. A stillness hung in the surrounding air.
The doctor did not seem affected by the commotion. In fact, she seemed pleased with the development, and as she took a step back, she tugged on the other woman’s arm. Cassie didn’t expect any effect, but when the patient sat straight up, Cassie knew something was wrong.
The woman’s physical form hadn’t moved from the bed, but her spirit turned and placed her feet on the ground. Cassie looked from one version of the woman to the other. They were identical, except for the way the spirit flickered in and out of existence, as though she were the embodiment of a poor connection.
Cassie only had time to gauge the confused look on the woman’s face before the entire room shook for a third time. The rumble was infinitely louder, and Cassie’s instincts drove her forward, reaching for the wrist of the woman in the bed. All she cared about was pulling it from the Ghost Doctor’s grasp.
But when her fingers closed around the woman’s hand, its warmth shocked her. And just as the room rattled one last time, Cassie locked eyes with the Ghost Doctor. Decades of pain and rage and conviction washed over Cassie, so sharp and twisted that she opened her mouth to cry out.
Cassie’s eyes flew open. She snapped her mouth shut, swallowing a scream that would’ve made everyone on the plane crane their heads in her direction. Her heart hammering, Cassie forced her lungs to pull air in and push it back out in a rhythm she could pretend was normal. It took her a moment to remember where she was and what she was doing.
She’d been forced to fly from Savannah to Charlotte before she boarded the plane to New Orleans. How ironic that she had left North Carolina last week after visiting her parents for the first time in a decade, and here she was, already on her way back. But her time at the airport had been limited—too short to pay them another visit—before she headed to her eventual destination.
Cassie breathed a little easier. The hospital room and the Ghost Doctor were already fading from memory, and her body was waking up alongside her mind.
Which also meant it didn’t take her more than a second or two before she realized that while she had wrapped her fingers around the dying woman’s wrist in her dream, the Cassie who lived in the real world had done the same to the woman sitting next to her on the plane.
Cassie released her grip and turned to the woman with wide eyes and an apology on her lips. She felt a flush creeping up her neck and across her cheeks. She considered opening the emergency door and throwing herself from the aircraft.
“Don’t worry about it, honey.” The woman’s smile lit up her face. There was a golden glow beneath her umber skin that made her look ethereal. Wires of gray peppered her dark hair, and though she looked to be in her early sixties, there was something eternally youthful about her. Cassie had heard her accent before, like New York meets the South. It was uniquely New Orleans. “Bad dream?”
Cassie nodded. “You think I’d be used to them by now.”
“Best not to get too friendly with nightmares.” The woman offered her hand. “My name is Celeste Delacroix.”
“Cassie Quinn.”
Cassie took the woman’s hand. It was warm and the handshake firm, but Cassie barely noticed because one minute she was staring into this beautiful stranger’s face, and the next she saw Celeste standing next to her mirror image. A fire crackled between them while stars twinkled in the sky above.
And then it disappeared.
The vision hadn’t ended. Celeste had taken it back.
The woman slipped her hand out of Cassie’s, but she didn’t look scared. In fact, she looked impressed. “Well, you’re quite the surprise, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry.” Cassie wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. She just knew she’d done something wrong. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No harm, no foul.” Celeste looked like she was seeing her for the first time. “You’ve got a lot of power, Cassie Quinn. It’s a shame you don’t know how to use it.”
Cassie opened her mouth and then closed it. She wanted to ask what she meant, but when she opened her mouth again, a different question came out. “Who are you?”
“There are a lot of interesting answers to that question. ‘What do you do?’ is a better one. I run a voodoo museum in the French Quarter.”
“You’re a lot more than that.” Cassie was still trying to wrap her head around what had happened. “How’d you do that?”
&
nbsp; “Practice. Discipline. Control.” Celeste’s eyes sparkled. “You’ll get there some day.”
Cassie had a thousand questions, but she had a feeling Celeste wouldn’t answer them, so she started with an easy one. “You’re from New Orleans?”
“Born and raised.” Pride oozed from her voice. “What about you?”
“Savannah.”
“Lot of restless spirits in Savannah. You’ve got your work cut out for you.” Celeste’s face tightened. “I’m getting a feeling life hasn’t been kind to you. Your road might be the one less traveled, but it’ll take you where you need to go.”
Cassie looked away. She had pushed thoughts of David’s death out of her mind for a few moments, but they were never far away. Neither was Novak nor the troubles with her family. Still, Celeste’s words were kind. “Thank you.”
A man’s voice came over the plane’s speaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into New Orleans. Please turn off all portable electronic devices…”
Celeste pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to Cassie. “If you want to see the real New Orleans, call this number. Tell her I sent you.”
Cassie looked down at the card. It was black with gold lettering, and the name Sabine Delacroix flashed in the florescent overhead lighting. Was this the woman Cassie had seen in the vision before Celeste had shut her out? How much would she be like her sister?
Celeste patted Cassie’s arm. “This trip will be good for you, Cassie Quinn. I can feel it.”
Cassie looked out the window as the ground drew closer. She hadn’t felt optimistic about the trip when she’d boarded that morning, but Celeste’s confidence gave her a spark of hope. David was gone and his murder was unsolved, but life carried on. She’d have to find a path forward, one way or another.
A visit to New Orleans could be exactly what she needed.
5
Cassie had the Uber driver drop her off as close to the New Orleans Museum of Art as he could manage. The chill breeze sent a shiver down her spine as she walked the rest of the way. She pulled her jacket closer, regretting the fact that she hadn’t brought a pair of gloves, especially once she pulled out her phone to call Magdalena. The device was freezing to the touch.
“How was your flight?” Nothing could dampen the cheer in Magdalena’s voice, not even the wind. “Enjoying yourself so far?”
“My flight was good.” Cassie almost said it was uneventful, but that would’ve been an outright lie. Celeste Delacroix had made sure of that. “But I haven’t had too much time to myself yet. I dropped my stuff off at the hotel, and now—”
“Oh, how’s the hotel? Was your room okay?”
Cassie frowned. “Bigger than I needed, but it’s nice. Are you sure the museum was okay with paying for that?”
“Oh yeah, it’s not a problem.” Magdalena’s voice betrayed the smile on her face. “George had final approval. Don’t you worry about it.”
“Okay.” Cassie planned on taking full advantage of the room—and the jacuzzi bathtub that came with it—but for now, she wanted to get on with business. “Anyway, I’m outside the museum now. I wanted to check in on the truck and make sure it’s arriving on time.”
Magdalena’s silence spoke volumes. “There’s been an issue with the truck.”
Cassie froze on the stairs leading up to the museum’s entrance. She turned her back to the wind and tucked one hand into her jacket pocket. “What do you mean there’s been an issue?”
“It hasn’t left Savannah.”
Cassie didn’t know how to process the information. Her entire job down here was straightforward. Fly to New Orleans. Supervise the NOMA staff as they offloaded the truck full of eighteenth-century furniture. Offer her expertise on how to exhibit and catalog the pieces. Eat an entire pint of ice cream while watching the Food Channel in her hotel room. Return home.
“How is that possible?”
“I put the wrong date down on the paperwork.” Magdalena rushed on, breathless. “I thought I scheduled it to move out at nine this morning, but it’s actually tomorrow. But don’t worry! I’ve already talked to the hotel and extended your stay another night. You won’t have any issues with your room.”
“That’s a relief.” A small one, but it released a little tension between her shoulder blades. Cassie looked at the front entrance, where a guard watched a small family file through the door. “Do the staff already know? I’ve practically got one foot inside the museum.”
“Called them myself to apologize. Make your introductions, then take the rest of the day.” Magdalena’s voice brightened, but it sounded practiced. “Who knows, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. You could do worse than an extra night in New Orleans.”
Cassie frowned. She didn’t know what her friend was up to, but she knew better than to trust the woman didn’t have backup plans for her backup plans. There was no way she got the date wrong for Cassie’s trip. “Mags, what’s really going on?”
“I have no idea what you mean.” The smile was still in her voice. “But I’ve got to go. Busy day today. Eat something yummy for me. Have fun!”
The line went dead before Cassie could say another word.
Magdalena’s intentions were always noble, but that didn’t mean Cassie was in the mood for one of her schemes. The last few days had been hell, and Cassie wanted to do her job and eat her ice cream and forget about the real world for a few hours. But she reminded herself, Magdalena didn’t know David had died, or that Cassie was barely keeping her head above water. She just thought she was doing her friend a favor.
Cassie squared her shoulders and finished her ascent of the stairs. She nodded a hello to the guard, who gestured for her to pass through the door and into one of the most breathtaking foyers she’d ever seen. Everything from the floor to the walls to the columnar supports was a brilliant white. Green garland laced through the bannisters, and a simple red rug led straight to the bottom of an elegant staircase.
For a moment, she forgot her frustration with Magdalena and simply stared in wonder.
As another family bustled through the door with two small children, Cassie beelined for the visitor’s desk, where a young woman had a phone cradled to her ear. Her fingers flew over the keys as she nodded along to whatever the person on the other end of the line was telling her. A smile never left her face.
After a moment, the woman hung up and turned her attention to Cassie. Her hair, cut in a sharp bob, was jet-black against her tawny skin. Her eyes, just as dark as her hair, were wide and excited, and she wore bright pink lipstick that looked a shade too modern for the exquisite museum. “How can I help you?”
“My name is Cassie Quinn, and I’m here to—”
“Oh!” The woman’s eyes grew wider, and her hair swished as she bounced in her chair. “Hello! We’ve been waiting for you. My name is Julie Tanaka, but you can call me Jules. Let me call my co-worker, and I’ll get you set up.”
Before Cassie knew it, someone had replaced Jules at the front desk, and the young woman was leading Cassie through a door to the back. Few people ever saw this side of a museum, which was a shame. It was where the real mysteries were held and where the real magic happened.
“Was your flight okay? Any trouble?”
“No, everything went smoothly.”
“Good, good.” Jules’ twang was subtle, but it deepened when she got excited. Which seemed to be about every other sentence. “Magdalena told us you’d probably show up a day early, and I was hoping I’d be here to show you around.”
“A day early?” Cassie furrowed her brow. “She said the truck was delayed.”
Jules shrugged. “The truck was due to be here tomorrow, but that’s okay. It gives you more time to explore the museum and meet everyone.”
Cassie tried not to grimace. She didn’t mind meeting new people but being the center of attention was never fun. Then she reminded herself that she had at least one thing in common with everyone who worked at the NOMA—they all loved
art.
Still, too many names and faces for her to remember filled the next hour, and certainly too many fake smiles. Jules never lost an ounce of her spark, and even seemed to gain energy the more she paraded Cassie around.
“This is my office.” Jules opened the door wide and let Cassie poke her head in. All the furniture was sleek and modern, either black or white. In fact, the only color came from the paintings hanging on each wall. One featured a silhouette of the Eiffel Tower set against a green, teal, and purple sunset.
“This is gorgeous.” Cassie stepped closer, admiring the texture of the brushstrokes. “Who did this?”
“Oh.” Jules cleared her throat, and when Cassie looked over, she was blushing. “I did.”
Cassie looked around the room at the other paintings, each featuring a different landmark in silhouette against an explosion of colors. Each monument was recognizable and yet otherworldly. Red grass. A yellow ocean. Trees painted all the colors of the rainbow. “They’re fantastic, Jules.” She looked over at the woman and shook her head in disbelief. “Really. They’re beautiful.”
Jules’ cheeks turned the color of her lips. “Thank you.” She hid a smile as she gestured to a small foldout table at the back of the room. “I know it’s not much, but that’s for you, if you need it.”
“I appreciate it.” Cassie shook her head. “I’m sorry again about the mix up. I’m not really sure what to do while I wait.”
“Have you ever been to New Orleans?”
“Once or twice. But it was a long time ago. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Jules’ eyes lit up, and Cassie regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She liked Jules’ enthusiasm, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep up with the other woman’s pace. But it was too late to take back what she’d said.