Up From the Grave: A Night Huntress Novel (3 page)

Four

T
he lights of New Orleans glittered like crystals against the dark waters surrounding the long bridge that led us into the city. Finally, we were here. It had been almost a day drive considering that we had to swing by our Blue Ridge home to pick up my cat. We couldn’t fly into New Orleans because of the garlic-and-marijuana satchels we packed in case Marie sicced her spectral spies on us. As for renting an RV instead of taking our car, well, this wasn’t the first time I’d gone on a road trip with Dexter. The dog’s farts could be considered chemical warfare, and the extra space gave me somewhere to run.

We’d just turned into the French Quarter when Tyler let out a blissful sigh.

“There they are.”

I glanced out the window. Ghosts covered the French Quarter more plentifully than plastic beads during Mardi Gras. They floated through throngs of tourists, hung out on rooftops, in bars, and, of course, drifted through the city’s famous cemeteries. The most remarkable thing about them was how many were sentient. Most ghosts tended to be repeats of a moment in time, unable to think, just endlessly acting out the same incident. Not surprisingly, a lot of those incidents related to their deaths. Death was a momentous event for everyone.

But the ethereal residents of the Crescent City were different. Most of them were as lively as the people who were unaware of their presence. A few were pranksters. The young man who tripped and fell face-first into a pretty girl’s cleavage had no idea he’d been pushed by a ghost who chortled at the slap the chagrined boy received. Farther up the sidewalk, a pair of ghosts amused themselves by tipping revelers’ glasses upward so that expected sips turned into face-soaking splashes.

Tyler laughed when he saw that. “I hope I don’t come back after I die, but if I do, I’m moving here where the party never ends.”

Bones slanted a look at him before returning his attention to the narrow streets. “Wouldn’t recommend that, mate. New Orleans isn’t the most haunted city in the world by chance.”

Tyler shrugged. “So a lot of people get murdered here. I’d avoid the grumpy spooks.”

“That isn’t what he means.”

I whispered the words. We were now deep in Marie’s territory and the Queen of New Orleans had spies everywhere.

“Marie’s power draws ghosts to her, and once they’re caught in it, like insects in a web, most of them aren’t strong enough to leave.”

Instead of taking it as the warning it was intended, Tyler smiled.

“You have
got
to introduce me to her. It’ll make my life.”

Or your death,
I thought cynically, but kept that to myself. Marie was selective over whom she granted an audience. She might not even agree to meet with me and Bones, so I doubted she’d squeeze time into her schedule to chat with an unknown fan.

“Bloody hell.”

The growled words snapped my attention away from Tyler. We were almost at Bones’s town house, yet he was staring down the street with a resigned expression on his face. Was he just now realizing the RV would never fit through the space that led to the parking garage?

Then I saw the tall, wide-framed African-American man standing in front of our town house, staring back at us as though he’d been waiting all night for our arrival.

“Shit,” I breathed.

Bones shot me a glance that said he was in complete agreement though he didn’t speak as he pulled up next to the man and rolled down the window.

“Jacques,” he greeted the large ghoul coolly.

“Bones. Reaper,” he replied, addressing me by my nickname. “You may leave your vehicle with me. Majestic is waiting for you.”

“Ooh, you have a doorman?” Tyler sounded impressed. “I don’t know why you live in that hillbilly hideaway instead of here.”

“He’s not a doorman,” I said, cursing to myself. “He’s Marie’s right-hand man.”

Tyler glanced at the ghoul with more interest. “Really? I thought you hadn’t called her to tell her you were coming?”

“You thought right,” Bones said, getting out of the car. Neither of us bothered to bring our weapons. They were all useless against Marie.

Tyler glanced at Jacques again before meeting my gaze.
You’re fucked then, aren’t you?
ran across his mind.

My smile was brittle. Marie always granted safe passage to and from a meeting, but once our audience with her was over, all bets were off.

“That remains to be seen.”

Bones handed the RV’s keys to Jacques before giving a different set to Tyler. “Go inside. We’ll be back later.”

If he had any doubts about what would happen after our meeting, they didn’t show in his tone. I squared my shoulders and adopted his confident attitude. So Marie’s spies had found out that we’d crossed into her city. On the bright side, now we wouldn’t have to wait to see if she’d agree to speak to us.

On the negative side, I doubted she’d sent someone to fetch us immediately because she’d missed us, but there was only one way to find out what she wanted. I forced an unconcerned tone as I turned to Tyler.

“Don’t have too much fun while we’re gone.”

He gave a pointed look at the massive ghoul before replying.

“I’ll save that for when you’re back.” Then to Jacques he said, “You’re not driving this thing anywhere until I get my dog and her cat.”

A
s a rule, cemeteries didn’t bother me. They were filled with dead people, and as I’d known since I started hunting vampires at sixteen,
truly
dead people couldn’t hurt you. It was the living and the undead you needed to worry about, so it wasn’t walking among the thousands of remains in Saint Louis Cemetery Number One that made a shiver creep up my spine. It was the knowledge of what lay beneath the crypt of the cemetery’s most famous resident.

Marie Laveau’s tomb would be easy to find even if I didn’t know where it was located. Over six feet tall, it had several sets of dark X’s scrawled onto its whitewashed sides. It also always had offerings in front of it despite grave-tenders cleaning it on a regular basis. Tonight’s contributions consisted of unlit candles, flowers, coins, beads, hard candy, pieces of paper, and a pair of iPod headphones. I ignored all the tributes as I stepped up to the front of the crypt and rapped on its top square.

“We’re here, Majestic.”

The grinding noise began at once. I jumped back and watched as the cement block where I’d stood pulled back to reveal stygian darkness. All of the offerings that had been over that area fell with a wet thudding sound into the blackness beneath.

No voice told us to enter. None had to. This was as much invitation as anyone got from Marie. I had to give it to the voodoo queen. She knew how to maximize her version of home-court advantage.

I was about to jump into the hole when Bones stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll go first, Kitten.”

I didn’t argue. This wasn’t a slap to my feminism—it was good battle strategy. Bones might not have mastered his telekinesis, but a little ability to control objects with your mind was a lot better than none. Marie was also unaware of his new power, so if things took an unexpectedly lethal turn, we had the element of surprise.

Bones jumped into the pit, landing with a small splash about twenty feet down. Nothing underground in New Orleans could stay dry forever, even with the impressive pump system Marie had beneath the cemetery. I jumped in next, glad I had on boots so that whatever squished beneath my feet didn’t end up splattered on my skin.

The hole above us closed at once, plunging the tunnel into as near to complete darkness as was possible for vampire vision. There was only one way to go, so Bones headed deeper into the tunnel, and I followed. We had to walk single file to avoid touching the walls, and I wanted to avoid them for more reasons than their layer of spongy mold. Madigan wasn’t the only person who loved booby traps. Marie had rows of long knives hidden in these walls, and one flick of a switch would send them shooting out to julienne whoever was unlucky enough to be in their path.

After about thirty yards, we came to a metal door with hinges that should have been rusted, but they didn’t let out a creak when we opened the door. Then it was up the short staircase to the windowless room that I guessed was inside one of the larger, communal crypts. It had no apparent exit aside from the way we came in, but once more, appearances were deceiving.

Take, for example, the handsome African-American woman in the recliner across from us. Manolo Blahniks peeked out from beneath her fuchsia skirt, its bright color repeated in the string of gemstones that hung over her black sweater. She’d gotten a haircut since I last saw her, its dark length now ending at her chin instead of her shoulders. The flattering new ’do framed creamy mocha features that were both ageless and lightly lined.

The closest I could come to pegging Marie’s age when she’d been made into a ghoul was fortyish to fiftyish, but there was no mistaking the years in her gaze. Those hazelnut eyes held knowledge that would intimidate the most lauded of sages, and I didn’t let her soft smile fool me. It was more warning than welcome, pretty though her seashell-colored lipstick might be.

“Majestic,” Bones said, calling her by the name she preferred.

That lush mouth curved further. “Reaper. Bones. What brings you to my city?”

Her drawl was pure Southern Creole, smoother than butter and sweeter than pie, yet as usual, Marie didn’t bother with false pleasantries. That trait we had in common.

Two unoccupied chairs were the only other furniture in the small room, but I didn’t sit. This wouldn’t take long.

“We’re here to ask for a favor if you’re capable of doing it.”

Marie’s brow rose at my challenging statement. Bones gave her a bland smile, yet his shields cracked, and I felt his approval threading through my emotions. Now, at least, she’d hear what the request was, if only to prove that she
could
do it.

“What is it?”

“We need to question a ghost who keeps disappearing on us,” I said. “Can you make one stay if he doesn’t want to?”

She bent down and picked up a glass of wine I hadn’t noticed before. Must have been hidden behind the fold of her skirt. The sight of that red liquid brought back a rage-inducing memory of the last time the three of us had been in this room: Bones pinned to the wall with Remnants gutting him from the inside out and Marie refusing to call them off until I agreed to drink her blood.

Knowing Marie, she’d chosen to bring that glass because she wanted us to remember. As if I could ever forget.

“I can do that without difficulty,” she replied as she sipped her wine. “Though you take a risk admitting to me that
you
can’t.”

I tensed, but Bones laughed as though she hadn’t just hinted at starting an all-out war between vampires and ghouls.

“Come now, Majestic, you have no interest in pitting our two species against each other. You’ve also known for some time that Cat no longer manifests your abilities, or are we to pretend that you haven’t been spying on us this past year?”

Marie raised her shoulder in a diffident shrug. “Only a fool chooses to live in ignorance when knowledge is so easily obtained.”

There were days when she reminded me of my friend, Vlad. He’d be equally unabashed about being caught spying.

“Now that that’s cleared up, will you help us?” I asked bluntly.

“Yes.”

I didn’t let out a sigh of relief. I knew better.

So did Bones. “For what price?”

Marie’s smile reminded me of a snake uncoiling itself to strike.

“The location of the ghost you imprisoned last Halloween. I want to know where you trapped Heinrich Kramer.”

Five

T
he word “no” rose in me, almost scalding my insides with the demand to be voiced. Another crack in his shields let me feel the rage that swept through Bones though the only visible sign was a muscle that ticked in his jaw.

“Why? What do you want with the witch hunter?” he asked with admirable calmness.

Her eyes seemed to glow with inner lights. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It is when the motherfucker beat me with a car, had his accomplice shoot my best friend, and, oh yeah,
set fire
to me,” I said acidly.

Kramer had done more, but listing all his evil deeds would take too long. He’d been a murdering prick in life, and becoming a ghost didn’t stop him. It only enabled him to continue his reign of terror for centuries. We’d nearly died trapping Kramer, and now Marie wanted the address of his cell? If she ever let him out, Kramer would come straight for me. At best, one day I’d look down to see a silver knife sticking out of my chest. At worst . . . well, I’d rather the silver knife.

From the gleam in Marie’s gaze, she knew all of the above though her ghostly spies hadn’t found Kramer’s cell, obviously.

“Your price is too high,” Bones said in a flat tone.

“Your need for answers from this other ghost must exceed it or you wouldn’t have come,” was Marie’s immediate reply.

Memories of the last time I saw Kramer made me want to argue. Giving one lethal adversary possession of another was akin to always having a loaded gun pointed at your heart.

Still, what my friends were facing right now could be worse.

“Done.”

Bones’s gaze swung to me. I held out a hand. “She’s right. We need what Don knows more than we need to keep Kramer’s location a secret.”

“Don?” A small smile touched Marie’s lips. “Your uncle is the ghost who keeps disappearing on you?”

“You know family.” My tone was clipped. “Always a pain in the ass.”

Bones stared at Marie. His expression revealed nothing, and his emotions were locked down, so unless I stood in front of him, I couldn’t determine what he was silently telling her. Marie seemed to know, however. She stared back in the same unwavering manner before inclining her head in a slight nod. Then their wordless exchange was over.

“Kramer’s cell is buried in the underground trunk sewer beneath the old combined overflow facility in Ottumwa, Iowa,” Bones stated. “If it’s breached in any manner, Kramer will be able to escape.”

A satisfied expression flashed over Marie’s features. Once again, I worried over what she wanted with the ghost. With luck, the voodoo queen merely wanted to own one of the world’s most infamous witch hunters—an irony I could appreciate considering Kramer’s hatred of all things female and magical. Then again, when was the last time I believed in something as simple as luck?

“We’ve held up our end, Majestic,” Bones said in an even tone. “Your turn.”

B
ones’s knock boomed on the door. After a moment, Tyler’s “Who’s there?” could be heard over the sound of Dexter’s barking.

“The owner of the bloody house.”

The door flung open to reveal a grinning Tyler. “Your place actually has
style.
And it’s right in the heart of the French Quarter! Tell me again why you live in that shack in the woods—”

He stopped speaking when he saw that we weren’t alone. Bones pushed Tyler aside enough to allow Marie and me to enter. We could have done this back at the cemetery, but I didn’t think Tyler would forgive me if I cheated him out of his chance to meet his idol. Now that we’d agreed on terms, he would be safe.

“Majestic, this is our friend, Tyler. Tyler, meet Madame Laveau.”

Marie’s gaze flicked over Tyler with polite disinterest. “
Bonjour.
”

Tyler stared at her, his mouth opening and closing. For a few seconds, he didn’t even breathe. The only time I’d seen him close to this enraptured was when he met Ian.

“Madame,” he finally choked out. “It is an
honor.
”

Marie’s mouth quirked, and she threw me a look that, had she been anyone else, I would’ve sworn was a humorous version of,
At last, someone who appreciates me.

Then she held out her hand. Tyler grasped it but didn’t shake it. He bowed over it with more formality than I’d thought him capable of.

My queen,
his thoughts said reverently.

My ass,
I didn’t reply out loud.

To my surprise, Marie squeezed Tyler’s hand, her expression turning thoughtful.

“You have power, so you must be the medium I heard about.”

Tyler’s beam was instant. “
You’ve
heard of
me
?”

She pulled her hand free. “I make it my business to know about anyone who can successfully summon spirits.”

If he’d won the lottery, I didn’t think Tyler could look any happier. Bones, however, got right down to business.

“Do you need anything before you proceed, Majestic?”

She cast a glance around the parlor, pausing at the urn Tyler placed on the coffee table.

“Does this contain your uncle’s ashes?”

At my nod, Marie let out a light snort. “Then this will be simple.”

She went over and sat on the couch closest to the urn. Bones and I remained where we were, but Tyler began to unload his suitcase.

“Here, Madame,” he said, pulling out his Ouija board.

She gave it a dismissive glance before reaching into the urn. “That’s not necessary.”

As soon as her fingers touched the ashes, an icy current tore through the room, as sudden and sharp as if we’d been dropped into the center of a blizzard. Before I even had a chance to shiver, my uncle stood in the center of the room, materialized enough for me to see that his gray hair was tousled, as if he’d been yanked so hard from wherever he was that it mussed his trademark style.

“What the hell?” he demanded of Marie. Then he saw me, Bones, and Tyler.

“Not this again,” Don muttered, starting to fade at the edges.

One moment, Marie was sitting on the couch with nothing more than silk furnishings surrounding her. The next, she was haloed by shadows that let out bone-splitting howls as they converged upon my uncle. I didn’t see her draw the blood that was the catalyst for summoning the Remnants, but that’s why she had a needle concealed in her ring. One small puncture was all she needed to wield her deadliest weapon.

The power the Remnants emanated ripped across my skin, making me take an instinctive step backward. I barely heard Tyler’s gasp over my uncle’s shouts as those diaphanous forms began slicing through him as though they were steel, and he was liquid.

“There.” Marie’s voice changed, the Southern drawl replaced with an eerie echo that sounded like thousands of people speaking at once. “Ask your questions. He’s not going anywhere with them holding him.”

I spoke through the shock at what she’d done.

“Call them off. This isn’t what we wanted.”

Marie’s brow rose. “How else did you think I’d secure your uncle? Ask him nicely to stay put?”

“We didn’t tell you to torture him!” I burst out, guilt slamming into me at the fresh set of screams from my uncle.

“I made a bargain to ensure that this ghost answered your questions, and I always keep my word. The longer you wait to ask them, Reaper, the longer your uncle suffers.”

Further argument would be useless. Now the only person who could stop this was Don. I gave my uncle a pleading look as I approached.

“Tell us what you know about Madigan. Please.”

His body bowed and shuddered as those forms pitilessly continued to rip through him. Bones glanced away, his mouth tightening. How well he knew what my uncle was going through.

“How could you do this to me, Cat?”

The anguished accusation tore at my heart.
I didn’t mean to!
was too useless to utter. Besides, though this wasn’t what I’d wanted, Don had admitted to condemning Tate and the others to certain death. If he’d only told us the truth, none of this would be happening.

“That doesn’t matter,” I forced myself to say. “Answer the question, or the Remnants will keep ripping into you until there’s nothing left but ectoplasm.”

That was a lie. You couldn’t kill what was already dead, as I’d often lamented while going after Kramer, but Don didn’t know that.

“Then I’ll die,” he rasped, the words broken from pain. “Better . . . that way.”

Even now, he wouldn’t spill his secret? Frustration made me bite my lip to keep from screaming at him. I hadn’t felt my fangs come out, but from the instant taste of blood, they had.

“Don’t be a fool,” Bones said sharply. “Remnants feed off pain, so as your suffering increases, so does their strength to inflict more.”

“Noooo.”

My uncle drew out the word with such despair that my control snapped. I couldn’t stand to see him like this, and I couldn’t make it stop, as Marie’s flinty expression reminded me.

“Tell me what the fuck Madigan did, Don! Right now!”

“Genetic experimentation!”

My mouth dropped at the reply. Don’s did, too, before another scream contorted it into a maw of agony. Aside from pain, something else flashed across his features. Surprise, as if he couldn’t believe he’d answered me with the truth.

“Genetic experimentation of what? Humans?” Bones pressed.

A groan followed by a stream of curses was his only response. Once more, I found myself biting my lip out of frustration. Damn Don’s stubbornness.

“Answer him,” I snapped.

“Not only humans,” Don said before another
What the hell?
expression crossed his face.

Marie began to chuckle. “Ah, I see.”

I didn’t. The only time I’d been able to force ghosts to do what I wanted was when I had Marie’s grave power coursing through my veins, but I’d run out of that long ago.

“Care to inform the rest of us?” I asked tightly.

Her glance was equal parts impatience and amusement. “How did so many of my kind fear you when you are so naive?”

Before I could bark out a response, she went on. “He died while you still possessed my powers, didn’t he? And you wept as his spirit left his body?”

I didn’t appreciate her
isn’t-this-obvious?
tone. “Doesn’t everyone cry when a loved one dies?”

“Mambos don’t,” she said, using the word she’d called me when she realized I absorbed powers after drinking undead blood. “Not unless they want the person to stay.”

“But he didn’t stay,” I said, anger at Don’s pain sharpening my words. “He died.”

“Yet here he is,” Marie replied with a flick of her fingers toward Don. “A ghost. Or more precisely,
your
ghost.”