Heather Graham - Blood Red

“Of course. Head that way.”

He could move like the wind himself—college football—but she was still so stunned that he felt as if he was dragging dead weight. He had to urge her to help herself as he pushed her up the wall, then jumped to safety behind her and brought her back down on the sidewalk.

Back on solid pavement, she stared at him, shaking her head. “He was really a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“No,” she argued, then, “Yes,” she said.

She was going to need some major therapy, he thought.

“You…you saved my life. I—I—oh, God, I owe you…you…”

“You and I both have to get out of here. They’ll think we’re junkies or thieves or something,” he said flatly.

“Yes, but…I need to…to thank you somehow.” Her eyes were wide, frightened; she wasn’t being sexual, just grateful and unsure what to do about it.

She straightened her spine, still unable to believe what had happened, but trying for proper dignity.

“My life. You saved my life. I owe you something.”

The patrol cars were nearly at the gates.

“You want to do something for me?” he demanded “Be careful. Don’t go off into cemeteries with assholes you meet in a bar, okay?” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

He ran, pulling her along after him, and stayed with her down Canal Street and all the way to Harrah’s.

“I don’t even know your name,” she told him.

“And you shouldn’t,” he said gently. “Go in there. Call a friend. Go home.”

He turned and left her, suddenly exhausted, and more disappointed than he cared to admit.

He’d thought he’d been chasing…someone. But he hadn’t been. It was that simple.

He swore softly.

Damn, but there were a hell of a lot of foul beasts preying upon the world.

It occurred to him as he walked wearily back to his hotel that man himself could be considered one of them—even before the taint of pure evil touched upon him.

He stopped and looked at the roiling sky. He’d killed a murdering bloodsucker tonight. And it was all just beginning.

“I’m coming to get you. You’re going to be mine, in a world of blood and death and darkness,” Deanna Marin whispered darkly.

“Oh, for the love of God, cut it out,” Lauren Crow pleaded.

“Seriously. Perhaps we’ll open a door to another world, and demons will spring out and bring darkness and evil into this world,” Heidi Weiss said, laughing, unable to maintain a low, threatening tone with the same success Deanna had managed.

Both Deanna and Heidi were staring across the outdoor table at Lauren with ridiculous grins on their faces. Of course, they were both holding drinks obtained from one of the bars here in Jackson Square, though she couldn’t remember which one. Deanna’s glass was in the shape of some kind of nuclear material container and Heidi’s looked like a naked man, buns, pecs and all. Perhaps due to a combination of alcohol and the atmosphere of New Orleans itself, they were suddenly eager to visit one of the numerous fortune-tellers who worked the area around Jackson Square with their tarot cards and crystal balls at the ready.

Lauren was delighted to be there—New Orleans was one of her favorite places in the world. Few locations offered such an artistic setting, with not just the visual stimuli but the with the history of the area and liveliness of people filling the very air as New Orleans did.

Tonight, however…

Maybe it was due to the one Cosmo she’d imbibed, but instead of feeling light and giddy, she felt as if a strange sense of dread and darkness had settled over her.

“Lauren, what on earth is the matter with you?” Heidi demanded. “It’s just for fun.”

Lauren just didn’t like the idea. She didn’t know why—she wasn’t particularly superstitious—but she had never wanted to have her cards read, let someone see her future in her palm, or receive any other kind of astral or otherworldly advice. Time, in her opinion, brought enough hardship without having to worry ahead of time about the bad things that could happen.

But she hated to be a wet blanket when they were here in New Orleans for a much anticipated pre-bridal shower for Heidi. Since they worked together at the artistic concepts company they had created after college, it had taken a lot of planning to get all their projects completed so they were free to take off together.

It was Heidi’s party, and Lauren had promised herself that she was going to make sure everything went exactly the way Heidi wanted it to. But this desire to play with the occult was somerthing new, and it was making her very uncomfortable.

“You said you would do anything at all this weekend to make me happy. Remember, you’re my bridesmaid, so you’re supposed to be my slave,” Heidi teased.

“Why are you so bugged about it?” Deanna asked.

Lauren didn’t know why, and she knew it was silly, but she really didn’t want to look into the future.

“You can pick whoever we go to. How’s that?” Heidi asked.

“Guys, I just think—”

“You need to do this just so you won’t be frightened of a few dramatic effects and some spooky patter,” Deanna said.

“I’m not afraid,” Lauren protested quickly, but even as she spoke, she realized that in fact that was exactly it. She was afraid.

“Really, think about it,” Deanna said, “Most of the psychics here are just college kids, trying to make a few bucks. Think of all the times we came here to draw, and how badly we needed the money people paid us for our sketches.”

“I think you’re forgetting the important point here. I told you. You’re supposed to be my slave, remember?” Heidi said.

”Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lauren muttered. “All right. In that case, I think we should see some kind of voodoo queen. This is New Orleans, after all.”

“And do you know an authentic voodoo queen?” Heidi asked, grinning.

Lauren had to smile; she couldn’t help finding a certain amusement in the question. Heidi Weiss had powder blue eyes, platinum hair and a smile a mile wild, the kind that coerced you into a good humor whether you wanted to feel cheerful or not. That grin was a little lopsided now, but just a little. They hadn’t been drinking to the point of saturation, only enough not to feel any pain.

“We can walk around, look them all over,” she suggested.

Lookswise, Deanna was the opposite of Heidi, with almond dark eyes, sleek, almost blue-black hair, and now she decided to take charge. “I’ve got it. We’ll walk around the entire Square to start. And then, if we don’t see someone Lauren likes, we’ll walk the entire French Quarter.”

Lauren wondered if Deanna really had that much energy, or if she thought Lauren would decide more quickly if the alternative involved endless walking, since she was already—and obviously—exhausted They had arrived that morning on the red-eye from Los Angeles, and they hadn’t stopped since. Lauren always felt very much at home in New Orleans, since she came from Baton Rouge, but Deanna had grown up in NewYork, and Heidi was from Boston. They had come often after becoming friends in college, but neither Heidi nor Deanna knew the little quirks and twists and turns of the place the way she did. They’d hit the casino early; then she’d been assigned to lead them to every little shop in the French Quarter, every place that wasn’t part of a chain. Now she was tired and just wanted to get this over with.

“There,” she said, pointing completely at random.

The woman she had chosen was sitting at a small portable table, facing the Cathedral. She appeared to be older than they were, but beyond that, her age was indeterminate. Her hair was tied back with a scarf, and she wore a white peasant shirt and skirt. Her face was stunning, with strong features and skin a beautiful shade of gold that spoke of a multi-ethnic heritage. She was speaking earnestly to a man in the chair across from her, pointing to the tarot cards she was laying out before her as she spoke. She might have been at a Renaissance fair, rather than the French Quarter of New Orleans. Behind her was a small red tent that would have looked at home on a medieval battlefield. There was a table just inside it, covered with a cloth that depicted the moon and the stars. On the table was a crystal ball.