Nuit Aux Trois (6 page)

Chapter Nine

"How's your French?” Quinn worked to keep up with Martin as they walked toward the graveyard.

"Not bad,” he said. “I'm sure Alison and I will have a nice chat before the day is over."

Somehow she'd expected tonight, Halloween night, to be creepier. Martin hadn't been able to make it yesterday, so they were doing everything tonight. The séance was scheduled for eleven forty-five. Rachel, her husband Dean, and several other hotel guests were scheduled to attend.

But no matter what scary things happened, the house would always be something special to Quinn. Last night the three of them had gone from room to room, with Dev and Fletch waving around equipment and saying that they were “getting no readings."

It was as if Amedee had disappeared. And there were no signs whatsoever of Delphie. When they'd finally fallen into bed, at three in the morning, they'd kissed and cuddled, the two men stroking her until she'd climaxed with a scream. When she'd tried to return the favor, they'd stopped her, saying that for the night, their pleasure came from watching her orgasm.

They'd woken early the next morning to Rachel yelling that she was leaving breakfast in the kitchen. The rest of the day had been spent much as the previous night, with Dev and Fletch getting more and more discouraged that they were getting no readings.

Now, Quinn watched Dev and Fletch, who walked just ahead, their heads together in deep conversation. It was close to dusk, and Quinn was more than a little nervous about going back to the graveyard. And it wasn't even Halloween yet.

"Do ghosts get mad?” When Martin laughed, Quinn felt the hackles on her neck go up.

"Sometimes,” he said. “And some ghosts can be mean and do things that hurt people. But for the most part they're lost souls trying to find their way to the next level. Some of them are happy to be where they're at, living next to their loved ones and watching what comes next.

"Well, if watching from the sidelines is what comes next, I'd rather move on and see what's on the other side,” Quinn said.

They were nearing the cemetery. The moon was out, but not yet high in the sky. There was no mist along the ground, but Quinn still felt butterflies take flight in her stomach.

"You don't know that,” Martin said. “Now that the three of you have come to your senses, you might want to stick around until they join you in the afterlife. That is if you go first. Or vice-versa. If one of them goes first they might want to stick around and watch the other two."

Quinn stopped dead in her tracks. She put her hand on Martin's arm and turned him toward her.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh please. You don't have to be a medium to see that the three of you love each other. You've been too stubborn to notice. Until now."

Quinn's face heated and she knew that she was blushing, profusely.

"You can tell..."

"I bet it was good,” Martin said. He kissed her cheek and then turned toward the iron cemetery gate.

"Well, here we are. Oh, I can feel her already and she's dying to talk.” He laughed. “Get it? Dying to talk?"

His laughter drifted behind him as he walked through the gate and Quinn stared after him.

"You've got a sick sense of humor,” she called out.

Fletch came up and held out his hand. “You comin'?"

The memory of Alison's cold touch on her skin made her palms sweat. But she was a modern woman. She was a reporter who wasn't afraid of anything. She nodded and took Fletch's hand.

They walked toward Martin and Dev, who stood at Alison's grave. Dev held a small tape recorder, and when they joined them, Quinn could see that Martin's lips were already moving.

She'd expected something creepier. Even in the waning sunlight, the graveyard seemed serene and non-threatening. Not at all like their first experience.

Quinn watched Martin carefully. His eyes were closed, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. She smiled as she watched him, realizing she'd missed out on a very good story. This would be a perfect item to put on the news. Of course she still could. She just knew that she wouldn't be doing it at WXBJ.

There was no way she was going back there. She'd worked hard for them, and she couldn't forgive them for judging her solely on the fact that she didn't have a playmate's looks. Their decision on the anchor job showed that they didn't care about her talents. And she wanted more than that from a job.

When they got back to New Orleans she would take a few of the interviews she'd been offered before leaving. And she'd have a fantastic story to take with her. Of course she'd have to bring a film crew down to take some footage, but this story would play well with audiences, who loved all things supernatural. And it would help Rachel's business.

"What should we..."

"Shush, Boo,” Fletch said softly. “Martin works alone, and in silence usually. During the séance tonight, he'll put on a little show. But right now, just watch and wait."

Quinn nodded and watched as Martin stood, his lips moving slowly, his eyes closed. From time to time, a small smile would appear on his face and he would nod.

The sky was totally dark and the moon moving toward its zenith when Martin stepped back from Alison's grave.

"Well? What did she say?” Quinn took a step toward him, but he held up his hand.

"Give me a minute.” He took several deep breaths, his eyes closed and his fingers pressed together. Then, he exhaled loudly and sighed.

"What you figured is right. Amedee and Cyrille were already lovers when he married Alison, and they became a threesome. They were all very happy with the situation. Then Delphie found out. She'd wanted to marry Amedee, and was very jealous of her sister.

"She walked in on them making love,” Quinn said.

"Yes,” Martin confirmed what Quinn's vision had told her. “It was Halloween night, 1832. Delphie attacked them; she used a knife to kill Cyrille instantly. Then turned the knife on Alison and killed her before Amedee could stop her."

"Well how did she...?"

"No questions, Quinn,” Martin said. “Just let me talk."

She nodded sheepishly.

"Alison said her last thoughts were for Amedee, whom she'd grown to love deeply. She's sure that's why she never left. She heard Delphie tell Amedee that unless he married her, she'd tell everyone that he killed his wife and her lover."

Quinn opened her mouth, but closed it quickly when Martin grinned at her, his eyebrows upraised.

"Now, that's exactly what she told everyone anyway, but she didn't tell that story until after Amedee was dead. As for Alison, she doesn't know what happened after that first night. When she was buried, she found herself stuck in the cemetery. She hasn't been able to leave since. We'll have to ask Amedee for the rest of the story tonight."

Quinn leaned toward Martin and he laughed.

"Okay. Ask your questions."

"Was Delphie a witch? Was she into voodoo?"

"Alison referred to her as a witch, but I think it was more of a ‘my sister is a witch,’ than ‘my sister is a
witch
.’”

"What about voodoo?” Fletch asked.

"Alison said there was a voodoo lady nearby. She doesn't know if Delphie contacted the woman or not."

"Martin, you've been in the house. Do you think Delphie is there?"

"No.” Martin shook his head. “I truly feel that Delphie was an evil force, but she's not haunting the house."

"But who's doing the evil things on Halloween?"

"Amedee,” Dev said. “He's angry. Somehow Delphie tied his sprit to the house, whether she used voodoo or the power of persuasion, I don't know. Maybe she told Amedee that Alison would suffer if his spirit left. Or maybe she did contact the voodoo lady. We'll ask him in about, oh, half an hour."

He looked at his watch and nodded. “We need to go back to the house. It's getting close to ten and I want to start the séance by eleven-thirty."

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Chapter Ten

True to Dev's promise, Martin put on quite a show for the séance. Quinn tried to hide her grin as he swung his arms wide, indicating the many candles that lit the living space of Alison's House. He was telling the crowd the story of Alison and Amedee, of their ill-fated marriage and how things we thought were true, were actually false.

Quinn noticed he'd omitted the fact that Cyrille and Amedee were lovers before the marriage. Instead, he'd presented Cyrille as a person who was “in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She made a mental note to see if he'd cooked up that story while talking with Alison.

The oversight made her frown. People saw lovers as a man and a woman. Although things had changed somewhat, society still frowned on changes in the formula. Would her relationship with Dev and Fletch be that way? Would they be forced to keep their true situation under wraps? How would people react if the relationship extended past this weekend?

She wanted it to go on. She wasn't sure if she could stand it if she was forced back to the second floor, listening to Dev and Fletch share their love while she was on the outside, coming in at odd times to relieve their boredom. She didn't think they would do that, they said they wouldn't, but there was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind.

She needed to talk with them about it. Tonight.

"Quinn,” Martin said loudly. “Will you take your place at the table between Fletch and Dev, please?"

She nodded, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming instead of listening to Martin's instructions. When she was seated, both men took one of her hands and squeezed gently. She responded with a squeeze of her own.

"I don't want anyone to be frightened,” Martin said to the group of about ten people who were standing around the room. Rachel and Dean sat at the table with them, both looking more than a little bit nervous.

"Now,” Martin said. “If someone is frightened, or wants to leave, I ask that you do so quietly. My contact with the spirit could be tenuous, and any sudden movements could scare him away."

The people all nodded and Martin continued. “I also ask for silence. Please refrain from yelling out questions or thoughts."

Quinn swallowed a laugh. She figured the last part was directed at her.

Martin closed his eyes and the room fell silent. He took several deep breaths and Quinn again admired his showmanship.

Then, he sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled, the word, “Amedee,” coming out with his breath. “If you are present, come to us. Speak with us. Allow your name to be cleared of the deeds done by your former wife."

There was no answer and Quinn wondered if Amedee would appear, or if he would stay silent.

"Amedee,” Martin repeated. “Don't be afraid. Let us help you."

The candlelight flickered and a few of the people gathered gasped.

"Calm,” Martin said. “We need calm."

The words were barely out of his mouth when a vase sitting on the sideboard lifted and flew through the air, slamming into the far wall. Next, a large glass bowl and a candlestick went airborne. The flame on the candle went out as it flew across the room.

"
Sortez de ma maison. Vous n'avez aucun droit! Sortez
."

The voice demanding that they leave the house was a woman's, and Quinn shuddered. She'd heard that voice before.

"It's Delphie."

"But it wasn't Delphie we talked with the other night,” Dev said. “It was Amedee."

Martin cleared his throat and the room fell silent.

"Delphie?
Vous n'êtes pas désiré ici. Continuez sur le prochain avion
. You are not wanted here. You must leave."

Quinn almost laughed out loud. Telling this woman that she wasn't wanted here, and needed to move on, was like telling a child they couldn't have a toy as they stood in the middle of a toy shop.

"Keep calling for Amedee,” Quinn said softly. “I think he's afraid of her, even in death. He has to know that she has no power over him."

Martin nodded, and closed his eyes. “Amedee. Show us that you're stronger than this woman. Don't let her control you any longer."

Delphie screamed when Martin repeated his entreaty in French. The room grew ice cold, and another glass bowl flew through the air, narrowly missing a female member of the audience.

"She's going to destroy all my crystal,” Rachel said with a sob. “Stop her."

"If you want me to stop, I will,” Martin said. “But you'll never learn the truth that way."

Rachel looked at Dean, who nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “Fine. Continue."

"If anyone wants to leave, now's the time to do it,” Martin said.

Three spectators left and after the door was closed, Martin again asked for Amedee to come forth.

Silence filled the room. Martin told Amedee, in French, and then in English, that he'd spoken with Alison that night.

"
Alison
.” The word came out on a sob. “
Mon Alison. Ou est-elle?"

"We can help you find her,” Martin said. “But you have to break away from Delphie."

"
C'est tissé un charme autour de moi. Je ne peux pas me casser librement. Je veux mon Alison tellement mal. Et mon Cyrille."

It was the first time Cyrille's name had been mentioned and Quinn felt a lump grow in her throat. Amedee's voice was full of sorrow.

"There is no spell around you, Amedee.” Martin said. “All you have—"

A woman's scream rent the air and Martin flew backward, his chair tipping over and hitting hard against the floor. Martin threw up his arms against the invisible force as Dev and Fletch stood and ran toward him. Both of them tried to grasp his arms, but were pushed backwards.

Martin made a gurgling noise and Quinn felt her blood run cold. Delphie was going to kill him. She would make sure that anyone that tried to release Amedee from his self-inflected bonds would be punished. She couldn't let that happen.

The room was in chaos now, people standing in small groups, clutched together as they watched the fight.

Quinn stood and screamed out Amedee's name.

"She took everything away from you, Amedee. Don't let her continue. Fight her. Stop her!

"Fletch! Tell him that Alison is waiting for him. All he has to do is fight. All he has to do is break away from Delphie."

Fletch repeated the words in French. He and Dev continued to fight the invisible force assaulting Martin, but Amedee heard what was said. His voice screamed out, and Dev and Fletch fell back. Martin was freed from the entity that attacked him, and a woman's voice shrieked in fear and pain.

"
Sorcière! Vous m'avez maintenu parti trop pour désirer ardemment de mon Alison. Allez à l'enfer. Vous n'avez plus la commande de moi."

Amedee wished her to hell, his voice filled with pain and hatred as he took back the control he'd unknowingly given her.

Delphie screamed once more, and then the room grew silent. The candlelight flickered, and the cold remained, but no words were spoken, no shrieks uttered.

"Amedee?” Martin sat up, his hands going to his throat. His harsh breathing calmed as the seconds passed. Finally, he asked for Amedee again.

The air grew warmer, but no answer came.

"Are they gone?” Rachel asked.

"I don't feel anything,” Martin said. “It could be all it took for Amedee to break free was for him to realize that Delphie had no control over him. He told her that she'd kept Alison from him for too long. That he wanted her, and Cyrille."

Rachel's eyes widened and she bit her lip. “So much for my wonderful haunting story. The three of them were in love?"

"Yes,” Dev said. “They were in love. And the power of fear kept Amedee away from the woman, and the man, that he loved. Hopefully we've broken that power tonight."

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