Authors: Heather Hamilton-Senter
As Chloe shook her head, her hair whipped around her shoulders. “Morgause wouldn’t like it. She’s possessive about what belongs to her.”
The man barked a laugh. “More like stark raving bonkers. Definitely not someone you want to piss off.”
The dean folded her arms. “Then it’s probably best not tell her about it.”
A scream of pain and terror broke the answering silence.
CHAPTER SIX
Ava was out the door first. The rest of us followed her down the hall and into the foyer. Claire Benoit was propped up against the wall, a security guard pressing a cloth to her arm. An upturned bowl of Christmas balls had spilled its contents around her and drops of red blood were scattered over the silver spheres.
Ms. Dalton knelt beside her. “What happened?” The whites showed around Claire’s eyes and she was breathing fast. When she didn’t answer, the dean looked at the guard.
He pulled back the cloth to reveal two puncture wounds still streaming blood. “Maybe she tripped and fell against the fireplace. She could have hurt herself on the poker . . .” He paused, his face confused. “But I don’t know where it went to.”
Bel tapped him on the shoulder. “Be a good man and go call an ambulance.” The guard nodded and rushed back to his office.
Bel lifted the woman’s arm while she stared at him, panting and murmuring something. He frowned. “It looks like a snake bite.”
Claire nodded violently. “Yes, yes!” she cried. “Damballah, Damballah!”
Dean Dalton took the woman’s face in her hands, forcing her to look away. “Claire, listen to me. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything harm you, I promise. Just calm down and tell me what happened.”
The woman took a shuddering breath and seemed to regain some control. “It was the loa Damballah, the great snake god that bit me. And Baron Samedi commanded it! He was here. I am marked for death!”
“I had no idea you believed in Voodoo,” the dean murmured.
“Baron Samedi! It was him! Right here in this room!”
“Shhhh, I promise to protect you. We’ll get you to the hospital and make sure, but you don’t seem to have been poisoned by the bite. You can tell me more later, but for now, sleep, and I’ll guard you.” The dean whispered something in her ear and Claire closed her eyes. Silver flared once across the dean’s collarbone.
Bel threw himself down on the leather couch, his long legs spilling out onto the floor. “Well I know I’m exhausted! If we’re done here, Chloe, then let’s go back to the hotel.”
She ignored him. “What did you say to her?”
The dean slumped into an armchair. “It was a spell. I bound myself to protect her from any threat for as long as she lives.”
Chloe’s pale eyebrows lifted. “That’s a powerful spell. It leaves you exposed.”
“I could feel the magic in that bite; it was ancient and dark. When Claire showed up at the school a few years ago, she was homeless. I gave her a job thinking I was helping her, but she’s a mundane—she would never have been exposed to such evil if not for me.”
“Still . . . .”
“Do not argue with me in my own house, little girl.”
Chloe flushed. The dean sighed, but didn’t apologize. “I still need you to take a message to the queen.”
The blonde-haired girl’s lips set into a stubborn line. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I’ll do it,” I said and then wished I’d kept my mouth shut.
Bel didn’t wait for the dean to agree before he was up and on his feet. “That’s settled then. You don’t need us anymore. Good luck with the whole Voodoo thing. I’m going to be sipping a martini and getting a massage, but to each his own. C’mon Messenger, we’re going.” When he opened the door, the sound of the arriving ambulance came through it.
Chloe stared at me; I couldn’t tell if she was grateful I’d released her from the burden of accepting an unwanted message. “If you need us, we have a suite at the Ritz-Carlton until tomorrow—room 905.” I nodded and she followed her companion out.
The dean greeted the paramedics and explained that there was some possibility that Claire had been bitten by snake. With amazing efficiency, Miss Benoit was strapped to a stretcher and driven off in the ambulance.
“You’ll take the message then?” She was staring out the window at the departing vehicle.
I shared a look with Ava. The girl grimaced, but I knew she was in as well. “I said I would.”
“Then come with me.”
We went back to her office where the dean retrieved a set of keys and offered them to Ava. “You can take my car. It’s parked in the back.”
Ava took the silver key ring. “Aren’t you going up to the hospital?”
“Later. Whatever did this was able to pass wards that I’ve placed all around the property. I need to reinforce them immediately. I know everything that comes in or out of this place, and yet Claire was attacked by something practically right under my nose.”
“Everything?” Ava squeaked. I guessed she was wondering if the dean was aware of her late-night excursions through the hole in the fence.
But the woman was too pre-occupied to notice Ava’s discomfort. “You must tread very carefully with the queen. Her name is Adelaide Rochon. We’ve only met once, and trust me, it wasn’t a comfortable meeting. She’s a witch, but there are as many types of witches as there are shades between black and white.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “So we don’t know if she’s a good witch or a bad one.”
“Adelaide practices the Vodou religion, something outsiders can’t truly understand. The loa—the spirits—can be bound to do a petitioner’s bidding for good or evil. These opposites are only a balance and one is not necessarily preferred over the other. Because of that, it’s very difficult to assign any particular morality to her. I believe she can be trusted, up to a point, but she’s also very dangerous. ”
The dean sat down heavily. “Adelaide guards her power and influence jealously. I came to this school because the opening here allowed me to create a haven for the young members of our kind. I have rarely needed to use my power in almost twenty years. Still, Adelaide believes I’m only biding my time before I overthrow her and take her followers. Any message from me will be mistrusted, but perhaps she will listen to the Crone’s heir.”
One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. “Won’t she just think I’m here to take her power too?”
The way the dean smiled made my face go hot. “Not as the Maiden. Adelaide will respect you because the Crone chose you, but she’s not likely to fear you.”
Neither the old Lacey nor the one I was now liked being dismissed as inconsequential.
Ava jingled the keys. “So where are we going?” When the dean gave us the address, Ava whistled.
“C’mon, Lacey—you’re getting the proper New Orleans tour.”
An hour later, we were on our way to the French Quarter in Ms. Dalton’s Escalade, and I was wondering why on Earth the dean would give Ava the keys after the second pedestrian had to jump away from the curb, afraid for his life.
“Parking’s a bitch in the Quarter. We’ll still have to walk a bit.” She glanced at my face. “Sorry, I have a mouth sometimes.”
“That’s OK.”
“You don’t swear, though.”
“Old habits.”
The girl nodded. “I get that.” She was silent for a moment. “It’s creepy that Ethan was watching us, following us. It makes me wonder what else is out there that we don’t know about.”
I shrugged, remembering how I’d thought he looked like Peter. I hadn’t asked Ava what he looked like to her. Was a vampire’s glamour in the intended victim’s mind only? That would be truly creepy. “Magic always attracts other beings of magic. Someone once wanted to give me a charm to hide me from other magic users, but I turned it down. I wish I had it now.”
“Maybe there’s something on that laptop that could help you make one.”
“I doubt it. The Crone’s magic was aggressive.” I’d left the laptop on the dean’s desk. The woman gave me a knowing look, but didn’t comment when I walked out without it. I didn’t want to receive the Crone’s
gift
, even though I realized it was only a symbolic protest—it didn’t change the reality of what I now was. Somehow I knew that I was now the Maiden, whatever that meant, and whether I liked it or not.
Ava swerved to avoid running into the back end of a truck that had stopped to turn. “Those silver marks on the dean’s arms—are they really spells?”
“Symbols of them anyway.”
“Did yours look like that?”
I shook my head. “Mine were dark and twisted, like the Crone.”
“Holy . . .”—she stopped herself mid-swear—“spit. An actual free parking spot in the Quarter! There’s a first for everything.”
Ava rode the curb once and had to pull out and re-adjust before parallel parking between a mini-van and a sedan. We climbed out of the SUV and after a short walk, we turned a corner and Ava announced, “Welcome to Bourbon Street.”
I smelled it before I could take it all in—a mixture of tantalizing cooking odors and many days old beer with just the slightest hint of vomit. And then I heard it too—jazz and zydeco filtering out of several bars and cafes further down the street. And finally I could see it—lanterns and white archways, wrought iron balconies painted dark green and pink stucco walls. The street engaged my senses one by one.
A hand-painted sign hung from the bottom of the iron balcony of a two story building: Baron Samedi’s House of Voodoo.
“Not quite what you expected?” Ava asked.
“No.”
“What do we do now? Knock?”
The windows were shuttered, but the sign clearly listed the hours of operation. “It’s a store. I guess we just go in.”
I opened the door and stepped inside. A bell over the door frame announced our arrival and a handsome young man with smooth, dark skin and close-cut hair hurried in from a back room. “Welcome to Baron Samedi’s House of Voodoo. How can I help you?”
The store was dim; lamps with fringed shades lit the corners of the room, but the fluorescent light on the ceiling was turned off. Tall candles in glass lined one wall. Tall shelves were filled with small statues depicting Catholic saints and other beings I didn’t recognize. Unfamiliar objects of ceramic and string hung from the ceiling. Everywhere were figurines of cloth and straw with skulls for heads. On the wall above the front counter hung a painting of Baron Samedi himself.
The young man seemed to register how dark it was. “Just a second, please.” Rushing outside, he began to open the shutters over the windows.
As the light rushed in, what had at first seemed sinister, became touristy, even a little kitschy. Not the painting though. In the brighter light, it was only more menacing. Baron Samedi was depicted in a top hat and evening clothes, with a lit cigar in one hand, and an elegant walking stick in the other. The top of the walking stick was a skull and the Baron’s face was painted to match. There was something compelling and strangely familiar about the face.
The sales clerk returned. “Sorry about that. I forgot to open the shutters this morning. No wonder it’s been slow today.” He grinned, apparently unconcerned that customers had thought the store was closed. “Now, what can I help you young ladies with? A love charm? Perhaps an invocation to ask the loa to eliminate a rival?”
I matched him smile for smile. “No, thank you. What we really need is to see the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.”
I had to give him credit—his smile faltered for only the slightest fraction of a second. “Now chère, someone’s been having a bit of fun with you. The last true Voodoo queens were Marie Laveau and her daughter, Marie Laveau the Second. If it’s tales of them you’re looking for, I have a couple of nice books in the back room.”
The clerk retreated around the counter, but I followed him. As I leaned against the counter, he couldn’t help but respond by leaning toward me, his hand almost touching mine. When I smiled, I could feel him soften, wanting to please me. He nodded. “Perhaps if you had a name, I could direct you to who you’re really looking for.”
I was tired of playing games. I’d learned enough from the Crone to recognize the subtle disturbance in my senses that being near a person with magic caused. This was no ignorant sales clerk. I leaned in a little closer. “Just tell Adelaide Rochon that the Maiden demands an audience with the Queen.”
Straightening, the clerk swore and all the folksy obsequiousness designed to fool tourists fell away. “I should have known the moment you walked in. Witch, right?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “Auntie’s going to kill me for letting another witch in her house. You should go before she realizes you’re here.”
“I can’t do that. I have a message for her—one that might save her life.”
“Sure you do.” He jerked his chin at Ava. “And what are you, chère? Another witch?”
“Tennis player,” she replied flatly.
He stared at her for a second and then chuckled. “It’s comforting to know not every beautiful girl who walks in here is a witch.”
Ava’s posture changed subtly and suddenly the two of them were looking at one another with interest. I was forgotten.
Irritation made my voice sharp. “Are you going to tell Adelaide I’m here?”
He paused, considering, and then shrugged. “Why not? If she flays me alive for letting you inside, she certainly can’t flay me a second time for letting you upstairs. I can’t promise she won’t flay
you
though for bothering her.” I had the feeling he wasn’t joking. “C’mon. I’m Michel, by the way. We might as well be on a first name basis if we’re going to die together.”