Out of Body (31 page)

P
illars had been removed from the facade and balconies. This had started as a stuccoed dollhouse, not a piece of chinoiserie.

Gray worked with the little chisel he’d found on Marley’s bench. The lacquer peeled quite easily, but took some of the underlying coat of paint with it.

There had been writing on the wall in the center of the front wall, where the door must once have been. He had taken most of it off with the lacquer.

A magnifying glass hung on a hook and he used it to peer at what was left of black, fanciful words. There wasn’t enough. All he made out was “Eau,” which meant nothing.

He turned the piece around, but stopped when the house started to shift off its base. Carefully, he tilted it sideways and revealed what was covered by the mound of lawns that sloped up on all four sides.

A web of pipes opened to show how a basement—not really a basement but the lowest floor hidden with earth and grass—was reached by a staircase. In a corner, another compartment puzzled him, until he saw little dolls wrapped like mummies and hanging from hooks.

Marley had talked about a cold room with hooks.

That’s where she said Liza and Amber had appeared to her.

His belly felt rigid and he stiffened, willing himself to stay calm. Righted again, a panel at the back of the house
had obviously been pried open, then put back. Gray opened it again and followed the floors up with the tips of his fingers.

The lower room was accessed from the kitchen, from a pantry off the kitchen. And to reach the kitchen you would walk behind a curved staircase and along a corridor.

A curved staircase, one of two rising up through a circular white entry hall.

“Gray?”

He dropped the chisel. Marley’s voice was distant but clear. He squeezed his eyelids together and concentrated. “I’m here,” he said aloud. “Marley, where are you?”

Nothing.

Then, with concentrated inner will, he saw her face and the shadows of people moving around her. “Marley,” he whispered. Why couldn’t he talk to her with his mind as he had before?

He hammered the bench with both fists. He couldn’t because he wasn’t practiced enough, but they were Bonded. They were one. He must be able to go to her.

Of course he had seen this house before, a real one just like it—minus red lacquer.

“Eau,” he said. “Water. L’Eau.”

Knocking a picture frame over as he went, he dashed from the workroom, but was cautious going down the stairs. He didn’t have time or inclination to explain where his thoughts were going and if these Millets were all so talented, they should already be on their way to finding one of their own in trouble.

The shop was empty. He looked back, expecting to see Winnie, but she hadn’t followed him. She would be safe where she was.

He caught sight of Willow through the back windows. She was hauling a box to the garbage.

The shop door wasn’t locked. He opened it and stepped onto the sidewalk—and walked into Pascal’s trainer, Anthony,
who carried loaves of French bread under one arm and a bunch of cut flowers in the other hand.

“Who died?” Anthony said.

Gray figured he looked desperate. “Nobody. Yet. I’m looking for Marley.”

“She left,” Anthony said, pushing open the shop door.

Gray gripped the man’s brawny arm and Anthony’s expression immediately mirrored Gray’s concern.

“Did you see which way she went?”

“Sure.” Anthony came back from the door. “She left with a woman I don’t know. In a black BMW.”

“I gotta get a cab.”

“Want my car?” Anthony asked, wrestling to pull keys from his pocket. “The green MGB back there. I was just dropping these off, but I don’t need the car.”

Gray hesitated, but only briefly. He took the keys. “Thanks. Thanks a lot, buddy.”

The top of the MG was down and Gray vaulted into the driver’s seat.

Sidney Fournier had left in her BMW—and Marley had gone with them. When he opened that dollhouse and recognized it for what it was, that’s when he had heard Marley trying to reach him.

Bord De L’Eau, the Fourniers’ home. He had never felt anything as strongly as he did the presence of Marley. She was there and she was calling for him.

E
ric’s grip on Marley’s arm was not gentle. His fingers dug at her and he pulled her to her feet. “I’m tired of pretending,” he said. “We’ve got things to do.”

With Sidney, Pipes went ahead and down the steps Marley had expected to find in the pantry. Eric hurried after them and memories made Marley sick to her stomach. Her heart thudded.

To be in this place, with him, disgusted her.

Pipes had started to cry. She drew back against a wall and covered her face.

“Don’t cry, honey,” Eric said. He went to her and pulled her unresponsive body into his arms. He tilted up her face and kissed her, long and deep, then released her, laughing bitterly when she slipped down to sit on the floor and sob quietly.

“What’s wrong?” Marley asked. She started toward Pipes but Sidney yanked her back.

“Nothing you’re not going to solve,” Eric said. “Now move it—we’ve already taken too long.”

“Make sure we do everything the way we’re supposed to,” Sidney said. She didn’t sound confident anymore.

“I don’t need your input,” Eric told his sister. “We go through the locker.”

Pipes cried aloud.

“Stay with me,” Eric told her. “You’re safe with me.”

“Hah,” Sidney said.

“If you weren’t a jealous bitch we wouldn’t be going through this,” Eric said. “You had to meddle with humans. You had to want what they chase after. You wanted to be famous. Look what you’ve done.”

Sidney glared at him.

“Aren’t you human?” Marley said. It sounded like a bizarre question.

Eric smirked at her. “Not quite the way you mean.”

“I’m human,” Sidney yelled. “I want to be human. And I’ve got the best voice in this town. I’m not just a blonde bimbo. If I was like her,” she pointed at Pipes, “that journalist would have come to me first. You slept with him, didn’t you?” she shouted at Pipes.

“N-no,” Pipes mumbled.

“I’m the best,” Sidney stormed. “But I was overlooked because I’m not flashy. Liza and Amber stood in my way. Only that’s changing right now. With Pipes—for as long as I need her—I’ll get the notice I deserve. I’m going to be the biggest headliner in town once all this quiets down.”

“Sure you are,” Eric sneered. He turned to Marley. “She brought her rivals here to frighten them and threaten them. But then they couldn’t be allowed to leave because they knew too much. Sidney’s competition had to die, you see.”

“Shirley Cooper was nothing to do with me,” Sidney said. “I was just the excuse for another killing. A stupid street singer. He wanted to have her and then he wanted to kill her.”

“Shut your mouth,” Eric said. “You talk too much.”

“Where is Erin?” Marley whispered to Pipes.

The other woman only shook her head and cried harder.

“Is she okay?”

“Quiet,” Eric said. “You need to concentrate. We were worried in case Sidney had been careless, and someone would come here looking for the women. We decided to
start leaving the bodies in the Quarter. That way all attention is concentrated there. We will continue until the danger is past.”

Marley decided she should just keep her mouth shut. She only became more convinced that she, too, was never intended to go free again.

“Because of her,” Eric nodded at Sidney, “at first the killing was essential to keep us safe. Strength came from destroying those women. Then the appetite for death reignited and it was all her fault. Sidney’s. The lust for thrill killing had been quelled, but once the hunger returned, it had to be fed.”

Marley listened quietly to this mad diatribe. How long did she have before they decided to dispose of her? And they would. Like the others, she was too dangerous to them as long as she was alive.

“So you killed anyone who Sidney decided was a better singer than her?” she said.

The shrieking that went up tore around the roof. “They were not better. They were lucky. Now it’s my turn. First, anyone left who can harm us will have to go.”

Who did she mean, “anyone who can harm us?”

She wasn’t asking any questions, Marley decided. If there was any chance, she would do everything in her power to stop more carnage…and the madness. That was the duty she’d taken on from Belle.

“Now,” Eric said. “Let me show you why you’re going to do everything you can to help us.”

He dragged her across the dirty concrete floor to the locker in the corner of the room.

Marley visualized the inside of the dollhouse, the pipes she had seen that would be beneath this very floor.

All around her the walls sweated, and the ceiling. Rivulets of grimy moisture trickled down—the same as on her other visits.

Eric hauled open the heavy locker door and pulled
Marley inside after him. Icy vapor roiled around them. She glanced back and saw the other two women follow.

Again Marley remembered the grids under the floor. Were they some sort of freezing system? Not that it mattered anymore.

The line of white, oblong containers, like top-opening ice boxes, stretched in front of them.

“See this?” Eric said, pointing out a red lever on a wall. “All I have to do is turn this and the air in here freezes within minutes. If you’re unfortunate enough to be locked in here, it freezes your lungs.”

“Did you design all this?” Marley asked. “It’s brilliant.” Flattery pleased a lot of people.

“This was done by my…my guide,” he said, the corners of his mouth jerking down.

He threw open the first box. “They’re in order by date of death,” he said. “We’re very organized here.”

Marley looked down on a woman she recognized without knowing why. She was older and perfectly preserved—and perfectly dead. Marley held her breath. She didn’t have time to get emotional or sick.

The woman had been in that room where she’d seen Erin in the dream. The hat the woman had worn rested on her chest. Her head was twisted at an unnatural angle.

“Meet Selma,” Eric said.

Marley recoiled. “I thought Selma was your mother. I thought you were going to take me to meet her.”

“I have,” he said and giggled like a schoolgirl. “And here’s Eustace.”

The man had been bulky with a thick head of gray hair. His eyes were open and Marley had to look away.

“Not our parents. That’s just a convenient story. These two used to own the house but they were empties. Made no impression on anyone, so when they disappeared no one noticed. A new family lived here instead. Us!”

“How old are you?” Marley asked impulsively.

“We reach our perfect age within days of our birth,” Eric said. “We never change after that. That’s how old we are.”

This time it was Sidney who laughed. She pointed upward where Marley didn’t want to look. “You’ll like them,” she said. “You really will. Look.”

Unwillingly, Marley followed Sidney’s pointing finger.

“They’re next,” Sidney said. “We’re keeping them alive until they’re going to be left in the Quarter. That way they’re fresher—and they get plenty of time to consider what’s happening to them. Torture is good for the backbone, and fun to watch.”

Eric said, “Liza had already frozen before we dropped her off for her
show
.” He laughed. “The police could get really curious about the condition of the body, if they’ve got enough gray cells between them to notice.”

“Amber’s next,” Sidney said. “She won’t use me again.”

Marley did look up then and slammed her hands over her mouth to hold in a scream. Side by side, Amber and Pearl Brite, swathed from their feet to their necks in plastic bags and suspended in harnesses, swung gently from overhead hooks. Both were gagged.

Marley wanted to rush and get them down. Both women stared at her with terrified eyes.

“More of the same here,” Eric said, walking beside the ice boxes and flipping open lids, waiting for Marley to draw level, and closing them again. The only male had been Eustace, the rest were young women—when they were still recognizable. Signs of the “hunger” Eric mentioned were everywhere.

“We’ve got to go,” Sidney said. “Hurry up.”

“Mother’s gone,” Eric said to his sister, completely confusing Marley. “She wasn’t in her body when I thought I killed her. Bummer. Now we’ll always have to be on the watch for the old bat.”

“How could you make a mistake like that?” Sidney said.

“You know Belle,” Eric said. “She always liked those little
travels
of hers. So she just traveled when I locked her in the box to suffocate.”

“Her body—”

“Gone,” Eric said. “I’m sure she thinks she’s very clever.”

Eric looked at Marley with a knowing grin. “Our father isn’t human, only Belle. But she’s supposed to be dead and she doesn’t count anyway. Bolivar is our father, not our grandfather.”

He used a heavy metal ring to pull a stone flag out of the floor. “Down,” he said, giving Marley a shove.

She calculated her chances of disabling him and managing to deal with Sidney at the same time. She could do it, but best wait and keep looking for the best opportunity.

Soon the four of them bent over to walk along a tunnel with gravel beneath their feet.

Eric went ahead of Marley. As he passed, he grinned. “Don’t feel bad. We’ll make sure you come back to your friends.”

Her skin felt several sizes too small for her body.

“Marley?”

She almost stopped walking. Gray’s voice came to her again. She answered.
“Where are you?”
and willed him to hear her.
“I’m coming. Where are you?”

“The Garden District…”
She felt them separate and wanted to shout out for him to come back. They had communicated. She would keep working at it.

“Come on,” Eric said. He was really hurrying now.

Marley considered calling for Sykes. But if he came—and he sometimes dropped from the system—and stopped the Fourniers now they might miss finding other victims still alive. And she didn’t have Pipes’s little girl yet. Sykes was pretty cool, but she had also seen him lose it when he was really angry.

“Gray. I’m under the Fourniers’ house in a tunnel. I think we’re walking away from the house.”

She focused on the center of her mind, but Gray didn’t answer.

A gust of air whipped along the tunnel into her face and she turned her head aside. The disgusting odor she’d smelled on that creature was carried on that air—coming from the direction in which they were headed.

Pipes began to cry again.

They reached the end and Eric said, “Keep Pipes here, Sidney. And don’t touch her.”

He held Marley’s arm and pushed her ahead of him up several steps to a door. A small, mostly white building stood there, its door recessed. There were no windows that Marley could see.

Eric reached past her, brought his face so close to hers, their skin touched. She shivered and he laughed—and slipped his tongue along her jaw.

Marley straightened her back and looked straight ahead.

He knocked on the door and a noise came from inside. One push and the door swung inward.

Eric had to force her to keep moving. She tried to whirl around in his arms, but he had her wrapped tight. His strength was a shock. Up they went to a raised room with silk-covered divans on all sides and lush hangings—and a table like an altar on a raised area in the center. An elaborate casket stood there, large and with the front open to show black velvet inside.

Marley stared. She saw an image hovering there, an image of the chinoiserie house. It faded, only to return with varying amounts of strength. It was like a hologram, not at all real.

“We have work to do, you and I.”

She stood quite still while, from behind one of the hangings, a distorted shape swathed in a hooded cloak appeared.

“Wait outside, whelp,” it hissed at Eric who scurried from the room and shut the door.

Marley’s fingers stiffened. She felt what she had been
told she would if she was ever mortally threatened—but only if her death was imminent.

This was it, then. She flexed her hands, widened her stance and allowed her entire being to come to full alert. If there was to be a fight, she must be ready, watchful, able to find the points that could disable her foe.

“You have what’s mine,” the thing said. It pointed a long, curved talon toward the shivering image of the red house. “You have that. Now you will take me to it.”

She stared, uncomprehending.

“You could invade my secrecy through what you stole, and then return to it. This time you will take me there.”

Marley knew that if she would ever consider taking this creature to Royal Street and into the place where her family was, she could not.

“Come,” he said. “Take my hand.”

She swallowed to stop herself from retching at the sight of the repulsive claw held out to her.

And she didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

“Do as you’re told,” he thundered.

“I can’t,” she said.

“You can and you will. You did it when you wanted it for your own purposes, now do it for mine.”

“I can’t, I tell you.”

He swung toward her, grasped her wrist in cold, thorny, yellow-gray talons and pulled her closer.

The stench weakened her knees.

“What is it?” he said as he must have seen her expression of horror.

“Nothing,” she choked out.

He made a wailing noise, clutched at his body and convulsed, but gripped her arm tighter. And the cloak slipped to the floor.