Stella Cameron - Out of Body

Sidney laughed. “You can cry, if you like.”

How silly she had been to come with Sidney just because she had begged and cajoled. They had sneaked out of the Court of Angels through the alley gate and driven away—who knew where—in Sidney’s BMW.

The room where she’d been taken finally had pretty furniture, old, not as old as most that Marley dealt with, but nice. “You said you needed my help, then you do this. What’s your point?”

Sidney hit the other side of her face and grinned. “You’ve interfered. Now you need to tell me what I have to know. I’ll make points that way—those are the points that matter. I need information to pass along. How did you find out about me?”

Marley frowned. “You were Amber’s singing partner. Amber’s missing. I found out about you that way. When I saw you at Scully’s that was the first time I saw you. I heard about you that afternoon.”

“Don’t pretend you’re dumb. We know what you’ve found out.”

“Then you don’t need to ask the questions, do you?” Marley said, bracing for another slap.

Sidney put the tip of a high heel on Marley’s sandal-shod foot and applied weight.

Tears welled in Marley’s eyes and she choked with pain. She wrestled with the rope around her wrists, and she listened, longing for the whispers of the Ushers.

At first there had been a few moments when she had been left alone and that music she had heard before played. The music reminded her of the creature, but she still expected to reach help, most especially Gray. But then a sensation like slick fluid washing over her left momentary numbness in its wake. Since then she had been unable even to try to touch another mind. After that, she had not felt or seen anything beyond her immediate surroundings.

Her powers were being contained, but she had no idea how.

Was it this place that restricted her, some element there?

“Eric will be back soon,” Sidney said, smiling. “He’ll persuade you to help us.”

Eric was Sidney’s brother. He had been waiting for them in the black BMW after Sidney had managed to get into the shop and find Marley without being seen. Marley hadn’t noticed Eric in the backseat until he tapped her shoulder. Less striking than Sidney, he was still good-looking and dressed like a successful businessman in a dark silk suit.

Marley hadn’t liked the expression in his eyes. He looked at her with flat dislike, she thought.

Sitting in the front passenger seat, with Sidney driving and Eric behind her, she discovered she had read his feelings about her accurately.

Marley had been helpless to stop him from tying a blindfold around her eyes. The gun Sidney pointed at her, even without looking at her, made sure she didn’t try any heroics.

They had brought her here before removing that blindfold.

“You’ve made him angry,” Sidney said.

“Eric?” Marley said. “How?”

“You know who I’m talking about and it isn’t Eric. You’ve done something stupid and now we’re in danger. You’ve got to be stopped and he will do it.”

Marley was convinced she must be very careful what she said. The agitation she caused Sidney came from her having something the other woman needed and she could only think it was the red house—yet Sidney had seen it on the workbench and shown no interest.

There could be only one explanation: Sidney had no idea that the miniature was significant.

Carefully, Marley asked, “You wanted us to believe Danny was involved.”

Sidney waved a dismissive hand. “You and Gray will have mentioned that to the police by now. I did what I wanted to do. Suspicion of Danny will divert them when the time comes.”

Spoken as if Sidney was certain Marley wouldn’t be around to interfere.

Marley’s courage wavered, but if she didn’t stay strong, she would be finished. “But you don’t really think Danny has anything to do with anything?”

Sidney laughed. “You made it so easy.” But there were dark marks under her eyes and a tightness about her mouth. Sidney Fournier was very afraid of something.

A thought and an image came to Marley unbidden. Her mind felt clearer. She made herself weigh the wisdom of it before she said, “I want to see the little girl,” Marley said. It was worth a try and she watched Sidney carefully for her reaction.

That came immediately. Sidney’s face blanched and she turned away.

She spun back, the corners of her mouth drawn down. “Who do you know in this house? Who’s telling you things?”

Bingo. Marley pressed on. “I’d like to see Erin, please.”

Sidney’s mouth worked.

“Now,” Marley said.

Sidney rushed at her and pummeled her head and shoulders. “Shut up! Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about. What have you done to make…? You’ve made people angry. I won’t suffer for what you’ve done.”

“Don’t,” Marley said, bowing her head to avoid the blows.

She stumbled sideways and fell, heard the door open as she hit the floor.

“What’s this?” A man’s deep voice asked. “What are you doing, Sidney? Oh, this poor girl, let me help you.”

Marley struggled to raise her head and shoulders. The man had thin, white hair and a lined face, but gave the impression he was not as old as he seemed although he used a cane. The hand he extended was smooth.

He patted her shoulder and looked at Sidney. “Are you mad?” he said. “Is this a friend of yours you’ve brought here to treat like this?”

“I’m sorry,” Sidney mumbled.

“Help me,” he told her. He sank awkwardly to his knees and untied Marley’s hands. “Give them time for the blood to flow back. My, my, what must you think of us?”

While he helped her sit up, Sidney loosened the knots at her ankles. When the rope was removed it left red marks behind to match the ones on Marley’s wrists.

“She asked to see Erin,” Sidney said, sullen.

“How nice,” he said and to Marley, “I am Bolivar Fournier, Sidney’s grandfather. Who are you, young lady?”

“Marley Millet,” she told him without hesitation. Disoriented, she tried to reconcile her treatment at the hands of his granddaughter with this distinguished and charming man.

He looked at her sharply, but with kindness in his eyes. “Not Antoine Millet’s daughter? Or one of them, should I say?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, evidently delighted, and shook his head. “How is my old friend? I haven’t seen him in many a year.”

“He’s well and living in London.”

“Ah,” Mr. Fournier said as if she had explained a great mystery. “Well, you must see the little girl. You know all about this nastiness here in New Orleans, I suppose?”

Marley swallowed. “The missing singers? Yes.”

“Sidney’s a singer, you know,” Mr. Fournier said. “Pipes is her new partner since, well, her former partner is one of the women who disappeared. A terrible thing. We took in Pipes and her daughter because Pipes didn’t feel safe living alone in the Quarter anymore. We’ve got plenty of room here as you can see, and we can keep the child safe.”

He got to his feet, planted his cane with a sharp rap on wood and helped Marley up with surprising strength. “Marley,” he said. “There is a sickness in New Orleans. So many people are afraid. I would have expected the police to solve the problem by now, but just like the last time, they seem helpless.”

Marley nodded. If she asked to leave now and go home, what would happen? Chances were that the risk of disaster was too high.

Eric slipped into the room and stopped as if he needed a new battery—just inside the door.

“This is Marley Millet,” Mr. Fournier said. “I knew her father. Take her to visit Pipes’s little girl.”