Jeaniene Frost - Destined for an Early Grave

“We’re both just tired,” I said, then thought to Bones, No one even knows we’re back in the States. Quit biting people’s heads off. But I squeezed his hand at the same time, promising him silently that we’d both feel better once we got where we were going.

“I’m rather testy, Don, forgive me for barking at you,” Bones said, curling his fingers around mine in acknowledgment. “You, too, Juan, but do me a favor. Keep your compliments to a minimum. I’m afraid it’s a sore subject at present.”

“Bueno, pero cuál es el problema?”

“English,” I reminded Juan.

“He wants to know what the problem is, luv.” Bones leaned back and tapped my hip. “Seat belt. All I need is for you to be injured in a car accident.”

I clipped the buckle into place. “Happy?”

A black limousine whizzed by us. Then another. And another. I looked out the back window in amazement, seeing a line of at least a dozen limousines all on the outbound road we traveled on.

“The cast of the new Miramax movie just got clearance to leave the airport.” Don gave a last, satisfied tweak of his brow. “Poor people, they were held up at Security. They’ve been waiting for hours.”

Bones started to smile. “Crafty old spider, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had practice hiding her, if you recall.”

A derisive snort came from Bones. “Yeah, I remember it well.”

“Play nice,” I said. A pissing contest between them was the last thing we needed.

Bones gave my fingers a squeeze. “Don’t fret, I’ve moved past my anger with him. In fact, he might be useful. So tell me, old chap, do any of your barmy scientists have a pill that prevents someone from dreaming?”

Don listened in morbid fascination as I described what was going on with Gregor, my potential past with him, and why he was called the Dreamsnatcher. When I was finished answering all his questions, two hours had gone by, and my uncle almost looked ill.

“Juan, pull off at the next exit, we have another transport waiting for us at the Shell station,” Bones directed him. “Kitten, you’ll only have a few minutes before we’re off again.”

“I’ll see what I can do about pills for Cat,” Don said once he’d recovered. “I should be able to have something made that could help.”

Juan exited off the interstate and pulled up to the first gas station on the right, which was a Shell.

“Ah, here we are. Juan, vaya con dios, and Don”—Bones held out his hand—“take care of yourself.”

Don shook Bones’s hand. “I’ll have those pills researched immediately.”

I gave my uncle a hug goodbye, even though we weren’t big on displays of affection for each other. Still, who knew when I’d see him again? Aside from my mother, Don was all the family I had.

“Thanks for coming along for the ride, Don. It must have played hell with your schedule.”

“My appointments could wait until later.” Don squeezed my shoulder. “Be careful, Cat.”

“I promise.”

Hopscotch and Band-Aid were the first out of the car. They did a quick perusal of the gas station’s perimeter, then indicated with a thumbs-up that it seemed clear. Bones went over to a maroon SUV, exchanging a greeting with the driver. Must be our new ride.

I got out and went around to the driver’s side of the limo. “No hug, buddy?”

Juan put the vehicle in park but kept the motor running, climbing out to give me a bear hug devoid of his usual ass-grab. “ Hombre is in a foul mood,” he murmured.

“He just hasn’t slept. We’ll be fine.”

“Kitten.” Bones tapped his foot. “Very out in the open here. Let’s not linger.”

“Right.” I gave Juan one last smile. “Stay out of trouble.”

“You too, querida.”

I headed toward the door marked WOMEN on the exterior of the gas station, giving Bones a mental directive that he didn’t need to stand guard outside the bathroom. The interior was gross, in a word, but I didn’t have much choice. If I really never wanted to grace a public bathroom again, I’d change into a vampire. Since I’d chosen to remain half-human, there was no one but myself to blame for the inconveniences that involved.

By the time we crossed the twenty-two-mile bridge leading to New Orleans, it was evening again. I’d never been here before since it hadn’t been necessary during my tenure with Don. The Big Easy might not be low on crime, but surprisingly enough, they seemed to be of the human persuasion, not rogue vampires or ghouls.

Bones refused to nap during the five-hour drive from Tallahassee to New Orleans. My guess was he was afraid I’d nod off if he wasn’t watching me like a hawk. Hopscotch drove, with Band-Aid in the passenger seat. As we crossed the bridge, I finally asked why we were paying a visit to the famous city.

“I need to speak with the Queen of Orleans,” Bones replied. “She’d be a powerful ally to have on our side if things escalate with Gregor, but she doesn’t fancy phone calls when someone’s asking for her assistance.”

“Another queen?” Europe had less royalty than the undead.

He cast me a sideways look. “New Orleans’s queen is Marie Laveau, though she goes by the name Majestic now. Marie’s one of the most powerful ghouls in the nation. Those rumors of voodoo? They weren’t rumors, pet.”

I didn’t like the sound of this. The last queen I’d met with mystical powers had almost killed all of us. Women were scarier than men, in my opinion.

“Is it safe to see her if she’s into the dark arts and all that?”

“Marie holds herself to a very strict etiquette. If she grants you a visit, you have safe passage to, during, and from that visit. She may tell you she’ll slaughter you first chance she gets afterward, but she’ll let you walk out unharmed. Then, of course, it’s a right fine idea to keep walking.”

“ She might be a polite hostess, but what about every other pulseless person in the city? You know, ‘Oops, Majestic, I offed some tourists’?”

Bones gave a grim snort. “There is no ‘oops’ with Marie. If she sides with us, no one will dare attack within the Quarter. Even Gregor.”

“Are we staying at a hotel?”

“I have a house here, but I seldom use it anymore. An old friend lives there, keeps things tidy. Not sure how long we’ll stay since my meeting with Marie hasn’t been scheduled yet. Marie prefers to have people here if she decides to see them.”

The streets grew narrower. By the time we approached the French Quarter, they were all one-way. Brick and stone replaced stucco and plaster as the city seemed to age in an instant. Yet the most striking feature had nothing to do with architecture.

“Bones.” My head whipped around in amazement. “My God, look at them…”

His lip quirked. “Quite something, aren’t they? Don’t strike up a conversation with any of them; they’ll talk your bloody ear off.”

The ghosts were everywhere. Hovering over the rooftops, strolling down the sidewalks, sitting on benches next to (or on top of) unwitting tourists. As we stopped at a red light, our car was next to a group of people on a tour, ironically about the haunted history of New Orleans. I watched as three spirits argued over the errors in the guide’s narration. One of the ghosts was so incensed, he kept flying through the tour guide’s midsection, causing the man to burp over and over. Poor bastard probably thought he had indigestion. What he had was a pissed-off spook in his gut.

I’d seen ghosts before, but never in such magnitude. Somehow, with the vibe the place gave off, apparent even through the car, they seemed to belong here.

“It’s beautiful,” I said at last. “I love it.”