The Maestro's Apprentice (4 page)

her legs to rub his fingers against her clit and labia. Maria moaned against Autumn, whimpering as Adam began to push his cock into her.

Adam took her fiercely, gripping her hips and slamming her back on his cock, causing her face to rock against Autumn’s pussy, and vibrate her with groans. The unexpectedness of it all sent Autumn over the edge, although she had to finish herself with her fingers, because Maria was no longer able to concentrate. She lowered her head.

Autumn fingered herself among the dark strands of Maria’s hair. Then she lay there and felt the motion of their lovemaking, until Adam turned Maria over on her back and fucked her until she whimpered. Eventually, her body shuddered and Adam slowed his thrusting, watching her with a little smile on his lips.

She and Maria showered together sleepily, enjoying affectionate touches and scrubbing each other’s backs. Then they climbed into bed, with Maria spooning Autumn while Autumn watched the girl sleeping next to Adam, wondering what her life must be like, if it was more exciting than Autumn’s. If she was putting off any unpleasant conversations.

Tomorrow
, she promised herself. She would talk to Maria tomorrow.

29

Autumn was awakened by the sounds of someone whispering, “Shit!” Then there were shuffling sounds, and she opened her eyes.

Tina was trying to get her jeans on while standing up, nearly falling over as if she were drunk. Autumn knew it was a side effect of the bite and of getting up too early when they hadn’t gotten to bed until the wee hours. It was amazing Tina was up at all. The clock said twelve-fifteen. They had been sleeping only about six hours.

Adam snorted and rolled over.

Autumn got out of bed carefully. Tina impaled her with a startled gaze, freezing with one leg mostly in her jeans, stepping on the bottom few inches, and the other leg halfway in. “I was trying not to wake anyone up,” she whispered. Her mascara was slightly smudged. She had two marks on her neck that looked like picked-at mosquito bites. She scratched them absently.

Autumn shrugged. “I’m a light sleeper. You should rest more after…”

“My apartment isn’t far from here,” Tina said. “Besides, I’m used to this kind of thing. Not being…bitten, obviously, but partying late and then making a hasty getaway.

It’s the price of fun in this town. You guys here long?”

Autumn shook her head. “I don’t know. Adam’s from here and hasn’t been back for a while.” She looked over her shoulder as Maria whimpered in her sleep, then turned back to Tina. She had an idea, and it made her heart beat fast. “Do you know of a place I can get takeout?”

30

Tina shook her head. “Not nearby. But I do know someone who might have a little something left over. I’ll show you if you want.”

Autumn dressed hurriedly, left a note and grabbed her little pack. Striking out on her own in New Orleans. She loved it. Outside, she took a deep breath of the crisp fall air, ignoring the street smells of too much partying and too little garbage pickup, unaware of the slick stranger keeping pace with them.

“You see the city waking up in layers,” Tina said. “The only people out now are like these guys,” she said, pointing out an overweight middle-aged couple in polo shirts and shorts, with two pre-teens in tow. They stopped to gaze into a shop window. “They’ll take home T-shirts that say, ‘I survived NOLA’ and cheesy little things to put on their mantle, to prove they were here. The nightlife crowd is still sleeping it off. It’s like two different cities, but I guess they all are.”

“Have you been anywhere else?”

Tina nodded, then shrugged. “Yeah. No. I don’t know. I’m from Lafayette. I was here for school. But I’ve been here six years now, and it feels like home. City just sucks you in.”

“How old are you?” Autumn asked.

“Twenty-four. You?”

“Twenty-five. Maria’s thirty, though.”

“Wow. She doesn’t look it.”

“It’s a side effect of being a feeder. You hardly age. And people live a long time. Not as long as a vampire, but…You should come with us. Adam needs another feeder and you’re fun.”

31

Tina shook her head. “No can do. I’m dug in here, you know? My friends are here.

I’m part of something. But you…I can see you’re in breakaway mode.”

The comment startled Autumn. She wondered if Maria could tell, or if she would read it as an effect of “their” plan. “How can you tell?”

Tina shrugged. “Just a hunch. I’ll tell you what, though. You have to be careful.

People are not always what they seem. That sounds cheesy, but it’s true. You have to learn to hear what they’re really saying, not what they want you to hear. That’s my advice to you if you’re going to be sneaking away from your friends in New Orleans. Here we are.”

They turned a corner and Tina knocked on a metal service door. “Hey, Luis, open up in there! I need a favor!”

The door opened and a dark-skinned Creole guy wearing an apron appeared. He looked to be in his late twenties. He smiled when he saw Tina, but his dark eyes flicked curiously over Autumn, making her self-conscious. She wondered what he would be like if they met in a random back alley. Then she had to shake her head to release the thought.

“Hey, Tina. Where you been? You don’t like my cooking no more?” His French accent sent a shiver up Autumn’s spine and for a moment she remembered to be afraid of Claudio finding them.

“Sure I do, Luis,” Tina said. “It’s your breath that scares me.”

He slapped a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt. I really am. So what kind of favor do you need?” He stared unabashedly at Autumn now.

“I have some friends in town and they are in need of takeout. They’re good people, Luis.”

32

He threw his hand up. “Good people, good people. I’m good people, and nobody rains treasures down on my head. Now let’s see…not much here that’s still good, except biscuits.” He squinted at her neck. “Something bite you,
cherie
?”

Tina gave Autumn a horrified look. Autumn shook her head to signal it was okay.

“Yeah,” she said. “Looks like a couple of mosquitoes got into the room last night.” Tina reached up and clasped her hand around her neck. “Big ones,” she said.

“Even this time of year.” Luis shook his head. “Something always trying to eat you in this town.” He looked at Tina. “You look like you’re falling down, my love. Go home and rest. Come see me later. I’ll take care of your pretty friend.”

Tina yawned and nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.” To Autumn, she said, “Watch out for this guy. He tries to be smooth.”

He flipped a dish towel and caught her on the ass. “Get out of here. You’re bad for my game.” His smile disappeared and he regarded Autumn more seriously as he put some biscuits in a plastic bag. “How many of you are there?”

“Th…two,” Autumn said. “Just the two of us. I really appreciate this. We forgot to bring something to our room last night and she’s not in any condition to go out to lunch.”

“I understand, I understand. Here is some jam for you…and some cheese. This isn’t left over, but it’s better than just biscuit, no? Tina, she’s my friend. So…I take care of her friend.” He held out the bag. Autumn reached for it. He pulled it back. “No. First you have to tell me…what is your story?”

“My story?”

33

“Why not? Everyone has a story. Especially people who come to this place. Tina doesn’t roll with people she doesn’t think are interesting. So. What makes you interesting?”

Autumn dropped her gaze to the floor under his scrutiny, suddenly very aware she was alone with this strange man, who was eyeing her almost aggressively. “We’re just traveling,” she said. Then she thought,
why not tell him at least part of it?
She sighed.

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But you can’t tell anyone else. I’m with a girl. I mean, she’s my girlfriend. But I really like guys, and I really just want to spend my time in New Orleans having a good time. So I went for a walk to see what I could get into.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “What sort of trouble you looking for?”

Autumn shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll know it when I see it. Where’s a good place to go for a drink this time of day?”

“You really are serious. Out for a good time, eh? Too bad I’m such a nice guy. I could show you some things.” He handed her a plastic bundle, which she put into her pack, and told her how to find Lafitte’s Blacksmith’s Shop at the end of Bourbon Street.

“Be careful, lovely lady,” he teased. “It’s still haunted by the ghost of the mad pirate Jean Lafitte. In fact, it’s his bar.”

Autumn thanked him and struck out on her own, enjoying the feeling of not having to think about what anyone else wanted to do, or doing what she was told. For a little while at least, she had only to do what she wanted. She even enjoyed the strange, prickly feeling of being watched, inventing stories about a dangerous man catching up with her and pushing her into a dark corner, instead of merely telling herself it was her imagination.

34

She wasn’t prepared to find herself in an ancient, pitch-black building. The only electric light she could see was over the bar. There was a television there too, but the sound was on very low. A few men sat at the bar, chatting with a strung-out-looking bartender. He met her eyes immediately. “Yes?” he said.

“Can I have a, uh…drink?” she asked.

“What’ll it be?”

“Get the lady a shot of Chartreuse,” said a gravelly voice behind her, making her jump. It belonged to a good-looking guy with a face that wasn’t exactly chiseled, or weathered. It was a good, solid face that looked like it had seen a thing or two. His brown hair was collar-length in back and receded in front. He held his mouth in a stern expression.

“A shot?” she said, shaking her head. “Oh no, that’s too small.”

The man smiled and came forward a few steps, then paused and lit a cigarette.

Everyone turned to watch the flame light up the dark room. He thrashed out the flame and tossed the dead match on the floor.

“Too small, huh?” he said with a smile. His eyes crinkled pleasantly. He looked to be in his forties, and was wearing a gray striped suit with black button-down shirt, no tie.

“Make that a double. And I’ll take a Smithwick’s.”

He came up and stood next to Autumn. “I didn’t think anybody drank before breakfast other than musicians who’d been up all night.”

“You’re a musician?” She looked him over, imagining he had followed her into the bar with evil intent, shivering with pleasure.

35

He nodded. “I’ve played most of the bars here. Sometimes we just don’t make it to bed. Then we crash a day or two later.”

“What do you play?”

“Rhythm guitar. That means…I know a thing or two about rhythm, and all the many uses for it.” He winked.

“Here you go, Bill,” the bartender said, and handed him both glasses—a large one filled with a dark, frothy beer and a small one partially filled with a green liquid.

“Come on,” he said with a glass in each hand and cigarette loose between his lips, motioning at Autumn with his head, then led her toward the darkness in the back.

Autumn looked around nervously for a moment, then followed him because she didn’t want to stand there looking like a dork while some guy made off with the drink he’d just bought her.

This was already turning out to be a strange day. But that was what she had wanted.

She found him at a table in the back next to the restroom corridor, sliding into the bench at a round table. A few feet away, she paused, took a deep breath and slid in beside him. He dragged the ashtray toward himself and squinted his eyes as he let out the smoke from his last drag.

“You’ll like this,” he said, nudging the glass toward her. “It tastes like anise. You wouldn’t have shot it anyway. It’s for savoring, not throwing back.” He nodded toward it.

“Go ahead.”

The candle on the table—there was a candle on every table in the place and it was midday—made him look like a painting, with warm colors fading quickly into the surrounding black. He had an ease about him she found attractive, and dangerous. She 36

picked up the glass and sniffed it, then took a sip. It was strong and spicy. It made her blink fast.

Bill took a sip of his beer. “What do you think?”

“It’s good,” Autumn said. “What’s it called again?”

“Chartreuse.”

“It sounds French.”

“It is. Brewed by monks. So what’s your name, and why are you out accepting drinks from strange men in the middle of the day?”

She looked down, feeling more shy than usual. “This is my first time here, and I just wanted to see things, I guess.” She wasn’t about to say anything about breaking up or wanting adventure, not to this man. There was something about him that reminded her of Claudio. Not his general vibe, but the calm assuredness in his demeanor. Plus, he was a musician who knew about French spirits. The similarity was enough to raise the hairs along her spine, and intrigue her at the same time.

He nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Autumn.”

“Pretty. I’m Bill,” he said and held out his hand. For a moment, she could do no more than look at it, because she wasn’t registering what he wanted her to do. Then she took it.

It was large, with long, graceful fingers. He squeezed hers, held it for about a second longer than necessary, while keeping his eyes on hers, then let go. “I know all these guys.

Play in all these bars. A bunch of us do. It’s great. You here alone?”

“No,” she said. “I have a couple of friends. They just didn’t come out with me.

They’re sleeping.”

37

“I’ve noticed something about people who come to New Orleans. They’re either after trinkets, or they’re looking for something…deeper. Something darker. You know what I mean?”

Autumn nodded, although she really didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

She found his gravelly voice mesmerizing.

“You don’t look like the trinket type, Autumn. It’s your season, isn’t it? Autumn.

That’s nice. Autumn came to me in a bar in New Orleans, on the darkest end of Bourbon Street, wearing red brick jeans. I saw a pair of jeans today the color of red bricks, with little black highlights, like something had faded into them. You’d look good in something like that.”