Big Easy Murder (The Peyton Clark Series Book 3) (3 page)

I’d unfortunately had to visit the LaLaurie House in order to make contact with the spirits who still resided there. And, even more unfortunately, I’d had to go inside that room where they were kept. The things I saw there will forever haunt me. Slaves were chained to the walls, some were dead, and those who weren’t certainly wished they were. Some were held in cages. All of them were being methodically starved. Many had broken limbs, and others were missing their limbs altogether. Body parts littered the room, crawling with maggots. Maybe the worst part was Madame LaLaurie’s penchant for performing experimentations on the slaves, even going so far as to force some of them to undergo sex changes.

“Let’s just say I know how to contact sentient spirits,” I said before shoving the unhappy memories right out of my mind.

I felt Ryan’s hand on my back and glanced over at him only to find him looking at me with deep concern in his eyes. I smiled at him to let him know I was okay, and he quickly nodded. I turned to face Peter again.

“But how will you make contact with Adele?” Peter asked.

I sighed. That was the part I hadn’t figured out. “Well, I don’t exactly know the answer to that yet,” I started as Peter released a pent-up breath of what I imagined was utter frustration. “But I do know a voodoo priestess and a warlock, and both are much more familiar with all of this stuff than I am. I’m sure they’d be willing to help me, er, us.”

Peter didn’t respond right away. He nodded for a few seconds, but seemed to be thinking it over. “And you think these two friends of yours could enable you to reach Adele as long as she isn’t one of the spirits who can’t readily communicate? What if she’s simply reliving her past?”

“Well, then, at least we’ll have some kind of an answer for what happened to her,” I replied, even though I doubted that was enough for him.

He nodded and again appeared to think it over. “That’s true, I suppose.” Then he stood up and nodded at me again. “I am content with my visit today, Ms. Clark,” he announced as he got to his feet and stepped away from my table. “I would like to hire you in that capacity.”

“Hire me?” I repeated with a frown, turning to face Ryan who just shrugged.

“Well, of course,” Peter replied. “I didn’t expect you to do me this great service for free!” The laugh that emerged from him was a deep, hearty sound that seemed to vibrate his whole being. “Let me give you some advice, my dear. In general, when people offer you money for your services, don’t question them, just accept it!”

“Advice gratefully accepted,” I grumbled, but I couldn’t conceal my smile.

THREE

The very next day, I found myself sitting on a three-person sofa inside Peter MacGregor’s homey living room. Ryan was on my left side, and Lovie, the voodoo priestess who was kind enough to come to my aid yet again, sat on my right. Peter occupied the chair in front of me while Christopher, the warlock, stood awkwardly in the corner of the ornately wallpapered room, scowling at everyone, as was customary for the less-than-friendly man.

Although Christopher wasn’t much older than my thirty-one years, the way he dressed and carried himself made him seem almost ancient. At barely over six feet, he had white, pasty skin, which appeared all the more ghastly when paired with the contrasting black clothing he always insisted on wearing. I wasn’t sure if it was stress from dealing with the spirit world, but his hair was completely gray and now matched the same ashen hue as his wide but lifeless eyes.

Just like every other time I’d had the fortune (or misfortune, given his less than cheery personality) to encounter him, he was wearing a floor-length, black, satin cape. His signature black lipstick, black nail polish and heavy dark eyeliner were all in attendance as well. He looked like the ringleader for a nefarious, traveling circus.

For as dark as Christopher appeared, Lovie was quite the opposite, not only in personality but in her choice of clothing as well. Being on the smallish side, she stood barely five feet tall. Although slightly overweight, she was still beautiful and had the most flawless, chocolate skin I’d ever seen. Even though she didn’t really have very many wrinkles, judging from the scant crow’s-feet around her eyes, I guessed she was probably in her late forties or early fifties. Every time I saw her, she had on a colorful scarf, which she wrapped around her head like a turban. Today, the scarf was bright red. She also always wore a floor-length skirt accessorized by a sort of jingly, hippie belt. Today was no different.

I crossed my feet at the ankles, being careful not to shift the
gris-gris
sitting in my lap. Now, before you mistakenly think I was covered in grease, or something along the same lines, the “s” in
gris-gris
is silent (think gree-gree). And as to the definition? It’s a little fabric bag filled with various bits and bobs, designed to protect whoever wears or carries it from evil spirits. I’d already activated the little talisman by holding it up to my mouth and gently blowing into it, thereby imbuing it with life. That is, of course, according to voodoo lore.

“Do you feel Adele’s spirit yet, honey?” Lovie asked with a wide and patient smile.

Gris-gris
or not, so far, I had yet to sense Adele’s presence, leaving me without much hope. I was fairly certain I should have picked up some kind of trace of her by now. Seeing as how I was able to interact with the spirit world, I could see and hear the spirits as if they were still corporeal. But I had yet to see or hear anything that might even hint to Adele’s presence. Maybe our little errand would wind up being much shorter than I’d previously imagined …

“Not yet,” I answered before glancing at Peter quickly. I was hoping he wouldn’t appear concerned or disappointed over that fact. If he were either, he didn’t show it. Instead, he seemed entirely uncomfortable, sitting straight as a board while observing us with an expression of puzzled bewilderment on his face. I figured all this voodoo business must have been alien to him. Of course, since he admitted knowing Guarda, maybe I was completely wrong?

“Hmm,” Lovie started with a frown as she studied me intently, holding her palms up to my face as if she were trying to touch my aura. “Maybe we need to put a little more work inta openin’ you up to the spirit world.” She placed one of her hands on my knee, offering me some encouragement.

“I’m game for whatever you think would help,” I replied as I nodded. I deeply inhaled another whiff of incense that Lovie ignited to clear the space of evil spirits. The incense included aloeswood, sandalwood, myrrh and dragon’s blood resin. She placed it on a piece of charcoal on the coffee table in order to fumigate the living room of anything that might do us harm. I couldn’t help wondering what might happen if we didn’t go through all the rigmarole of ensuring our spiritual safety, but concluded it was probably better not to find out.

Drake, are you still there?
I asked in thought; he was unusually quiet.

Oui, ma minette,
he answered immediately, and his deep voice in my head instantly brought me a sense of calm that wasn’t there before.
I can sense your anxiety, which makes me feel quite anxious, also.

I’m sorry,
I said, knowing there really wasn’t much I could do to slow the throbbing of my pulse, or reduce my escalated heartrate. When dealing with the spiritual world, I always got nervous. And for good reason; I’d nearly lost my life when I confronted the Axeman. Granted, this situation was far different from that one, but it still failed to inspire me with much confidence.

“Now it’s time for the Creole water,” Lovie announced. She reached inside her satchel from where it sat on the carpet, near her feet. She carried the fabric bag with her everywhere, along with various vials, tinctures, oils and candles for her voodoo spells. She pulled out a vial of what looked like water and popped off the cork before dipping her pinky finger into the liquid and anointing my face with it. She drew a wet line down the center of my forehead and then another down each of my cheeks. This ceremony wasn’t new to me. Lovie had often used Creole water on me in the past. It aided me in establishing my intentions to communicate with the spirit world.

“Keep on rubbin’ that amethyst, honey,” Lovie said in her singsong voice as she continued to baste my face in oil that smelled like wet earth.

I’d momentarily forgotten about the chunk of amethyst which I was holding in my palm for the last, oh, twenty minutes, since I first sat down. Lovie advised me that rubbing it would also ward away any lingering spirits who might harm us. Meanwhile, a white candle burned from the top of a side table just beside Lovie. In voodoo, white candles were used when contacting departed souls. They were also used to purify and cleanse any ritual. Beside the white candle was a candle in the shape of a skull, also supposedly helpful when consulting the deceased.

“Now close your eyes, honey,” Lovie said. Her voice sounded so soothing, I suddenly felt tired. I closed my eyes as she placed her hand on top of my head. I wasn’t sure if it was merely the feel of her hand, or the magic emanating from her, but I instantly felt less afraid. A refreshing splash of calmness washed over me and my heartrate even slowed down and began to regulate. Yep, Lovie was definitely a powerful priestess.

But unfortunately, nowhere near as powerful as Guarda!
my internal voice suddenly piped up. At the thought of Guarda, my stomach dropped and a sense of dread overcame me.

“Now envision openin’ the door to the other side,” Lovie instructed. “Allow yourself to communicate with the spirits, Peyton,” she continued.

This was the second time I’d experienced this form of visualization, and this time, it was much easier to do. I immediately pictured a door in front of me, with no walls holding it in place. It was just floating. I imagined it opening wide and beckoning me toward a vast stretch of darkness and space. In my imagination, I gripped both sides of the doorjamb before stepping through it. I instantly was surrounded by cold air—and I could feel goose bumps rising all over my skin.

“Are you in the spirit world, babydoll?” Lovie asked. I just nodded, shivering in spite of my efforts to remain calm.

“Very good, Peyton,” she said, and I sensed the smile in her voice. “Welcome the spirits, and let them know you want to invite them closer. Tell them you wish them no harm; an’, in turn, you will refuse to allow any deceitful spirits to contact you.”

I nodded and repeated her words to myself as I faced the black stretch of nothingness I saw beyond the open door in my mind.

“Once you’ve said all you need to, you may open your eyes,” Lovie finished.

I repeated the words in my head one more time, just in case some of the spirits might have missed them the first time around. Then I opened my eyes.

I instantly closed them and opened them again. I had to make sure the sight before me was really there and not just some odd fabrication of my mind. I was still in Peter’s house, but Peter and Christopher, who had been in front of me only seconds before, were now gone. They simply popped right out of existence. I glanced to my left, but didn’t see Ryan and, just as I began to suspect, Lovie was no longer sitting on my right side either.

“Guys?” I asked in a small voice. I focused on the couch beneath the window in front of me. It hadn’t been there a few minutes ago … Glancing down, I found myself still sitting on a sofa; however, it wasn’t the same one I was originally sitting on. Instead, it was upholstered in a dark green, scratchy fabric with loud, bright, white flowers that looked like magnolias. The couch was rectangular, like something straight out of the 1950s. A square coffee table sandwiched between the two couches also reiterated the 1950s’ theme.

This is normal, Peyton,
I thought to myself while attempting to calm my frantic heart.
Remember the LaLaurie House? When you made contact with the spirits there, you seemed to go back in time; remember? Everything around you appeared the way it would have when the spirits were still alive. Do you remember that?

I nodded to myself.

Well, this is no different!
My internal voice of reason and logic continued to explain everything I was currently experiencing.
You must have made contact with the spirit world. Now, you’re in Peter’s house, somewhere during the late 1950s.

Okay,
I replied hastily. I had to figure out what to do next. Taking a deep breath, I stood up. The only difference between this vision and the one I experienced at the LaLaurie House was the lack of any spirits to tell me what the hell was going on.

Glancing around myself to make sure I was, in fact, alone, I eventually decided I was probably as alone as I could be. I took a few steps forward, and my legs felt wobbly. Glancing down, I noticed I was still dressed in the same outfit I was wearing a few minutes ago, which was oddly reassuring. I assumed that meant I was definitely caught up in a vision. I really hoped I hadn’t managed to inadvertently send myself back in time. The only other time in which I’d time-traveled, I’d arrived wearing a fashionable outfit for the time. Since I was still dressed in the same clothing I had on previously, that had to mean I hadn’t traveled back in time … right?

It still didn’t help that there were no spirits to be seen anywhere. That meant I was nowhere near figuring out what had happened to Adele. And, from what I could tell, this vacant house wasn’t going to offer me many clues.

Hmm, maybe Adele’s spirit is a little shyer than the ones I experienced at the LaLaurie House?
I thought to myself, hoping that was the case.
Maybe I need to seek her out; rather than vice versa?

As soon as I realized the only voice I could hear in my head was mine, I started to worry.
Drake?
I thought.
Are you still around? Are you seeing any of this?

Getting no response, I figured the answer was negative. That morsel of information left me with a sense of abject loneliness that I couldn’t shake. Even though Drake was just a voice in my head, having his companionship for these sorts of things made me more comfortable. I didn’t feel as if I were ever truly alone.

What sounded like a whimper came from the rear of the house. Almost instantly, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Part of me demanded I follow the sound and investigate. Yet, another part of me insisted I stay firmly rooted exactly where I was.

You have to find out what the sound was, Peyton,
I scolded my cowardly self.
That’s the whole reason you came here in the first place!

Despite the blatant truth in my words, I didn’t feel any more eager to get on with the task at hand. The idea of walking in on the scene of a murder was daunting, to say the least. But I managed to muster up some residual willpower, and after taking a long, deep, reinforcing breath, I forced myself to step forward into the hallway off the living room, with no idea what awaited me.

It felt like ages before I finally managed to cross the living room and reach the hallway. When I eventually got there, I leaned heavily against the wall and took a series of deep breaths, if only to calm my sporadic heartbeat. I felt light-headed and dizzy. Pressing my hand on my forehead, the beads of perspiration made my palms clammy.

You can do this, Pey,
I encouraged my lesser self before standing straight up and starting down the hallway. I didn’t fail to notice, or feel somewhat concerned, when the whimpering sound didn’t repeat itself. Now, it was eerily quiet in the house, and only the crunching of my feet on the carpet announced anyone’s presence.

Why can I hear my feet on the carpet if I’m in a trance state?
I suddenly wondered, becoming slightly alarmed. Of course, I didn’t have the answer. The last time I entered a visionary state, back in the LaLaurie House, I merely existed like a ghost, visiting a time long past. I couldn’t interact with the scenery, much like it couldn’t interact with me. It was more like a movie playing around me.

Ignoring my thoughts, since they didn’t have any bearing on my current situation, I aimed for the end of the hallway, heading to where it T-boned into a bedroom, the door of which was closed. I fully intended to open the door, get the information I needed regarding Adele’s murder, and then break free of the trance. Easy-peasy. In and out.