One Hundred Saints (8 page)

I sighed unhappily as I scanned the crowd. Almost everyone around me was tainted in one way or another, which meant that if I couldn’t find people like Emmie, I’d have to purify them with fire. That always made the process of cleaning the bones messy and I would usually lose out on money I could get for them, if I let them stay in the pyre for too long.

Then it happened.

The same group of young women that had pushed past me on my way into La Rue Chateau were walking toward me, one of them with long blonde hair smiling at me through a drunken haze.

“You’re hot!” she called out as they approached.

It took everything I had not to raise my hand to cover my nose. The smell of alcohol on her was so strong, I was surprised she could still stand.

“What’s your name?” she asked, stopping in front of me.

“Kemper,” I replied, with a forced smile. I hated smiling unless it was with Emmie, since she was the first one that ever received a true, genuine one from me.

“I’m Larissa,” she said with a big smile. I fought the urge to roll my eyes when she hiccuped and giggled. “Sorry.”

By count, there were five of them so I would have to separate the three most inhibited from the other two and convince them to come back to the Lower Ninth Ward with me.

“Here for the parade?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. The backpack slid a little bit down my arm, so I hoisted it back up quickly.
Fuck, I forgot to go to the market.

“Yeah. We’re here for to find a sexy local man too, and I think we found him, didn’t we girls?” she asked, lust taking hazing over her drunken eyes.

Please don’t touch me.

“Know anyone interested in a good time?” she purred, stepping closer. My instinct told me to take a step back, but I needed her and two of her friends.

“I might.”

“Where are you staying?” she asked.

Is this really going to be this easy?

“I don’t live around here. But I can take you back to my place if you’d like to see what New Orleans really looks like,” I replied coyly.

“I’m game,” she replied happily. “You girls wanna see where Kemper lives?” she asked her friends.

One of her friends, who wasn’t as intoxicated as the rest of them, was eyeing me wearily. I let my eyes meet hers and she ended up looking away.

“I’m gonna go finish the bar crawl,” she said quietly.

No you’re not,
I thought evenly.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise I’m harmless and I’ll have you back in time for the parade. Besides, Larissa wants to have a good time,” I said, nodding at her. She was wavering on her feet at this point and I wondered how much longer I had before she would either pass out or change her mind.

“Tell you what,” I said, as she looked me up and down again, “I’ve got some moonshine at home that I just dug up a few days ago. You girls can come over and drink while I give Larissa what she obviously came for and then I’ll bring you all back.”

“I don’t know,” she said cautiously.

“You girls into magic, by any chance?” I asked suddenly.

“Like voodoo?” she asked, her eyes becoming wide.

“How about I show you what an authentic ceremony looks like after I’m done with Larissa? It’ll be ... educational. And free.”

The four of Larissa’s friends put their heads together. They were obviously concocting a plan in case something went wrong, but this wouldn’t be the first time that I had dealt with more than one martyr.

“Deal,” she finally agreed, once they broke out of their huddle.

“What’s your name?” I asked her, the smile on my face widening slightly.

“Reagan,” she replied, holding out her hand.

I took her hand against my better judgment, and shook it firmly. I had to gain her trust though, and I knew it was the cordial thing to do. Not taking her hand would have sent up more red flags than she was already fielding and I couldn’t have that.

“It’s nice to meet you girls,” I said, when we let each other go. “Follow me; it’s a bit of a walk, but I guarantee it’ll be worth it.”

And Reagan will go into the fire first.

Emmie

G
rimm didn’t know, but I had been watching him from the balcony outside my room. He was easy to spot in the growing crowd of people, because of the way his white shirt hung open, the tattoos that lined his arms, and how he trudged unhappily along. Nothing of what he had been doing bothered me until I saw him stop to talk to that group of drunken college girls. What really hurt my feelings was when I saw them walk out of sight with him, when he couldn’t find time for his childhood best friend.

I did what any normal, concerned friend would do. I followed them away from the French Quarter, past the Old Algiers, and into a part of New Orleans that he had always forbid me from going to.

But today was going to be different, I was going to follow them and see what it was that he was trying to hide from me. I liked to believe that he wouldn’t touch those girls; not in
that
way, but I only knew the boy version of him and still had to learn about the man he had turned into. I couldn’t help but think that he was hiding something from me. Little things like steering me away from the crazy lady that owned the voodoo shop, and telling me to leave Louisiana, just threw up red flags all over the place for me.

Should I have cared that everything inside of me was screaming at me to leave it alone? I would imagine so; but I didn’t come this far to see him, get chastised for it, and shooed home.

Daddy was mad at me for wanting to see Grimm. Mama wouldn’t stand up for me, hell she wouldn’t even stand up for herself. Grimm seemed more interested to see me than happy, and it was really messing with my head. I figured if I followed him and saw what it was that he was up to, maybe we could find a way to connect on some level and we could do it together before I left.

I went into the bedroom after I made a note of which direction they were headed in, and pulled on my running shoes. I wasn’t much for running, but I was very capable of sprinting long distances if I needed to.

I took the stairs down and waved at Carrie as I walked quickly past the front desk. I wasn’t sure if she waved back or even saw me, but I knew it was the cordial thing to do. Once I was out on the sidewalk, I walked around to the side of the hotel my room was on and looked up.

Okay, so if he was heading that way when I was up there, then that’s where I need to go.

Taking a deep breath, I broke into a fast paced jog. It wasn’t exactly running and it wasn’t exactly sprinting, it was just a fast enough movement to allow me to catch up to Grimm and his new friends before I lost them completely.

I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, but I hoped that the streets would eventually intersect at some point. Something told me to go toward the Old Algiers spot that he and I loved as kids, and I could only hope he wasn’t there with them. It would taint our special place, even if it wasn’t just ours anymore.

Come on, Grimm. Which way did you go?
I wondered desperately to myself after ten minutes of blindly chasing him with no promise of catching him in sight.

I took a left turn and decided to turn my jog into a sprint. I wanted to know if he was where my heart was telling me he might be, but once I got to our place I saw that I was wrong. He wasn’t there and he hadn’t been there recently. I knew it because I couldn’t catch his scent on the air; Grimm had a very peculiar smell to him. Almost like myrrh mixed with patchouli and it was strong enough to linger if he stayed in one place long enough.

The only place left to go is the Lower Ninth Ward. He’ll be so angry at me for it, but I don’t care.

It was when that decision engraved itself into my mind that I realized I had no idea how to get there. Maybe if I was lucky, Monroe, his wife, or James would be in the market, and I could ask one of them.

W
hen I reached the small alley that opened into the market, I slowed my pace and began to take deep breaths. It was a trick I had taught myself to reinstate my regular breathing quicker than normal, and I didn’t want to end up at my favorite pineapple stall doing some heavy breathing. I couldn’t explain it, but it would just seem rude to me.

I took one last deep breath, and tied my hair back into a loose ponytail as I let it out. I was sure that the wind had done wondrous things to my hair and I didn’t want to scare whoever was manning the stall today by being out of breath and crazy haired.

Once I was sure I was somewhat presentable I stepped out of the edge of the alley that seemed to always be encased in darkness, into the bustling, sunny market area.

“Oh,” I mumbled in disappointment. Monroe’s stall was closed up, but there was someone standing near it that I didn’t know. The man was tall and bone thin; somber would be the best way to describe the look on his face.

Our eyes locked for a moment, which prompted a nod from him. I bit my lip nervously, but I approached him anyway. I liked Monroe and something told me that the happy man that was known fondly as Market Monroe must have serious things to take care of if his stall was closed.

“Hi,” I said softly when I reached the man. Being close to him kind of scared me. The whites of his eyes were almost completely a sickly yellow color and he was missing a couple of teeth. His brown skin must have been pretty and flawless once, but you’d never know it underneath the layers of scars that were visible because of his rolled up sleeves and denim shorts.

“Looking for Monroe?” he asked in a dry voice.

I nodded, clasping my hands in front of me. I had a feeling that this man wouldn’t hurt me, so I was starting to relax a bit.

“He’s not here.”

“I can see that,” I replied carefully. “Is he coming today? I need to ask him something.”

“He won’t be back for a long time. His son’s missing. He’s out looking for him. I doubt he’ll ever find him, though,” he said, shaking his head.

I raised an eyebrow. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen or heard from James since I had sent him to find Grimm. But Grimm didn’t make mention of seeing the boy, did he? I couldn’t remember.

It’s probably not James anyway; he’s not the only son they have I’m sure.

“Which son is it?” I asked, clearing my throat.

“How
you
know him?” he inquired evenly. His sickly eyes narrowed as he crossed his bony arms across his chest. I got a better view of the scars; deep, ragged, and almost white.
It almost looks like he had fought off a monster and won.

“I buy pineapples from him. He’s my friend,” I replied, tearing my eyes away from his scars and forcing myself to look him in the eyes.

“Then why did you ask which son?” he scoffed. I noticed that the more agitated he got, the heavier his accent became.

“I just wanted to be sure it was James,” I said softly and lowering my eyes.

And if it really was James, then I was responsible for finding him, not his father. I looked up at the man who was giving me an odd look. I figured if anyone knew where I needed to be, it would be him.

“How do you get to the Lower Ninth Ward?” I asked.

“That’s no place for a princess like you,” he said, shaking his head firmly. The word princess, though not implied in a condescending way, brought a fire out of me. I was angry that my appearance always meant that I should assume myself to be better than everyone else, and it just wasn’t true.

I had no choice but to give up chasing Grimm now. James was missing and I was pretty sure that he had at least made it into the Lower Ninth Ward. If I ran into Grimm there, he’d have to get over it. Besides, he had company to keep his attention; I had a possibly scared little boy to save.

I
wasn’t exactly scared, but I wasn’t sure of myself either. If James was in a dangerous situation how would I be able to get him out of it? I didn’t have any money on me, and I was pretty sure that a smile and batting my eyelashes wouldn’t get him out of it.

Fuck. I really should have come up with a plan on the way over here.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, and I knew I was here by the drastic scenery change. There were still broken homes, things strewn about, and a more desolate feeling on this side of New Orleans, but it wasn’t the ghost town I was expecting. Some houses had small started gardens in front and others had pleasant little figures on their lawns.

It was obvious that the rebuilding would take more time, but I thought they were making excellent progress and I found myself wondering if I could get Daddy to lend some money to the cause.

Daddy’s a good man. He’ll do it if he comes to see what they’re really going through,
I reasoned to myself.

And that was my plan as I saw it. Find James, then go back to my parents’ house, and convince Daddy to come back with me somehow.

A small group of children on old bicycles were riding toward me, laughing and shouting at each other. I walked into the middle of the street, hoping they would see me instead of run me over, and at the last second, the oldest of the group did.

“Be careful!” he shouted at me.

“Wait, I wanna talk to you,” I said firmly, stepping in front of his now stopped bicycle and placing my hands on the handlebars.

“We don’t got no time for rich girls,” one of the younger boys said dismissively.

“You do today,” I snapped at him. “I’m looking for someone; two people really, and I want to know if you’ve seen either of them.”

“You got names?” the older boy asked.

I nodded, “James is the first one. His father runs a fresh fruit stall in that little market over in the city. He ... he came this way because I asked him to help me find a friend of mine, but he never went home.”

The group of children looked at each other silently. It was obvious they knew something, but no one seemed willing to talk.

“I’ll take you into the city and buy you all new bikes, if you help me out,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Almost immediately they all broke into friendly smiles. They knew that a “rich girl” like me would be able to make good on that promise. But I noticed that the oldest boy had a bothered look on his face.