Villere House (Blood of My Blood) (7 page)

He took a long drink of beer. "Aren't we all."

"Not like this. This is certifiable."

She peered at him from the corners of her eyes. God, he was gorgeous, a mixture of several ethnicities that blended into exotic perfection. His nose and jaw chiseled and strong, his lips full and very soft looking, his black eyes framed by even thicker, black lashes, his skin…like coffee and cream. Beautiful.

She swallowed. "Like, lock-me-up-certifiable," she went on, unsure why she was even telling him that detail.

Her statement didn't faze him. In fact, it seemed to capture his interest. Twisting in his seat to look squarely at her, he perched on an elbow and leaned against the bar. "How so?"

"I don't know that I even want to say it out loud. It's just… It's just nuts."

"You met Julien. He's completely normal compared to the rest of my family." Xavier laughed. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"

She could tell by his tone he definitely wanted her to. Should she…?

"I'm having these dreams," she blurted. She wasn't sure why, but something about the way he looked at her, like he wanted to peel back all her layers and dive into her core. It wasn't something she wanted to deny. "Vivid dreams set in New Orleans with historic details I couldn't possibly know."

Unfortunately, that made him frown. He took a drink. "What kind of details?"

"Well, like doctors used to prescribe calomel to sick patients. It's basically mercury and makes you puke. I'd never heard of it before I dreamt about it. I had to look it up."

"Maybe you just don't remember learning about it."

"It's more than that. The clothes, the buildings, the customs, the bloodletting… I saw the tool used to puncture the vein perfectly in my mind. Again, I had to look it up, but it was exactly as I'd seen it."

He took another drink, his frown deepening. "Those are all details you could have learned in elementary school. You could have forgotten and then our historic NOLA streets just gave fuel for your imagination to run."

For someone so interested in her secret minutes earlier, he sure seemed quick to deny it. "I saw Sanite Villere in my dreams. Long before I'd ever seen her portrait in your shop."

"Well, that—"

"Lottie! Oh my God!" Amanda's shrill voice shattered Xavier's sentence.

Amanda, Sam, and much to Lottie's surprise, Julien, stood in the doorway. Amanda hustled over and threw her arms around her neck. "You got my text! I'm so glad you made it!" When drunk, Amanda had a tendency to get really affectionate.

Lottie had no idea if she'd gotten a text or not but she nodded anyway. "Of course," she said, trying not to swallow a lock of Amanda's hair. She glanced over at Xavier, but he was focused on his brother.

Julien had his arm around Sam and they were stumbling toward the bar. Judging from the glazed look in Sam's eyes and the way her eyelids hung heavily over them, she was wasted.

"Hey, look who it is!" Julien exclaimed, his voice just a little slurred. "My little cutter! You put on quite a show tonight. People loved it. They couldn't stop talking about you. Added a little extra to my tips, too." He winked. "I'll buy you a drink."

"Yeah, shouldn't…shouldn't you be in the psych ward or something?" Sam swayed as she asked the question. Her words weren't just a little slurred either.
Something
came out as
thomthing.

Amanda finally released her. "Sam…" she said tensely.

Xavier glanced briefly at Lottie before asking his brother, "What are you talking about?"

Lottie was pretty sure she'd like to disappear. She might have been willing to tell him what happened in the cemetery but not here, not like this. Not with
this
audience.

Besides, Sam had that hateful look in her eyes she sometimes got when she drank. The prospect for a quiet rest of the night wasn't looking good.

"Didn't she tell you?" Julien laughed, shaking Sam from his side. She stumbled without the support. Clasping Xavier on the shoulder, he jabbed his thumb at Lottie. "We're in the cemetery, everything's cool, and I look over and crazy here has sliced the shit out of her hand with a nail file and is walking all zombie-like toward some grave. Amanda had to restrain her."

Xavier turned to her, his expression a mixture of concern and apprehension. Lottie was immediately reminded of the man Élise ran into on the street, the one who warned her about the calomel.

With a sigh she held up her bandaged hand. "Told you I was losing my mind."

Julien just laughed. Expression hard, Xavier looked like he was ramping up to retort when Sam crashed between them, nearly knocking over his beer. He snatched it up just in time.

"Hey, let's do a shot," she slurred. "Not Lottie, cause she's a fucking fun-sponge, but I know you're fun." She said to Julien. "I'm not sure 'bout you," she said, turning to Xavier. "But you're hot so I'm sure you're fun."

And cue the train-wreck...

Lottie rose. "You know, I think I'll go." She wasn't sure where since she wasn't going back to their hotel room alone, but she had to be somewhere else. "Thanks for the drink and the company," she said quietly to Xavier. Raising her voice, she added in the gentlest voice possible, "Hey Sam, you wanna head back with me?"

Sam's face contorted into an ugly mess that defied her normally gorgeous face. "Fuck no!" She turned to Julien. "See, told you. Fucking fun-sponge."

Lottie felt her jaw tighten and her fists clench into balls. She closed her eyes. She shouldn't let Sam get to her. She was just drunk. Normally she wasn't such a bitch.

But she was a bitch a lot.

"You aren't going to go all nutzoid again are you? Hide your nail files everyone!" Sam's shrill laughter was even louder than her voice—a drunken four decibels too high.

Amanda linked her elbow around Lottie's and began to lead her away. "C'mon. Let's go to the bathroom."

She didn't resist, especially when she caught sight of Xavier's expression. He was looking at her like she might burst into flames at any moment. She was happy to get the hell out of there, even if it was only to escape into a dirty bathroom.

"Ignore Sam," Amanda said when the door closed behind them. "She's being a total asshat."

"I know. I just gotta get out of here. I can't take it. Not tonight." Lottie's gaze drifted toward the sink. Remembering the creepiness from the hotel room and the reason she was out and about at three-thirty a.m., she shuddered.

Amanda stroked her arm. "You okay?"

She turned away from the faucet. "No," she admitted. She definitely was not okay. "I'm scared to go back. I can't be in that hotel room alone."

"I'll go with you. I've been the third wheel ever since Julien hooked up with Sam after the tour. I'm effin' beat anyway."

When she nodded her head felt so heavy she was surprised her neck didn't snap under the strain. God, she was exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally…just exhausted. Every muscle in her body felt weak, ruined, and in desperate need of a nice warm bubble bath. Not that she wanted to go anywhere near the hotel bathroom...

"Do you think we can sneak out without being seen?" She didn't want to face Sam again, or Julien, or Xavier. Especially not Xavier. Maybe she shouldn't care if he looked at her like her head was going to do a three-sixty, or she was going to start levitating, but she did.

"I'm sure we can. Lemme just pee real fast and we'll bail..."

They didn't exactly escape without being seen, but Amanda simply kept moving when Sam hollered at them. She tossed Sam a quick wave and then practically shoved Lottie out the door and down the sidewalk toward their hotel.

"She's going to be so pissed at you," Lottie said.

Amanda shrugged. "I doubt she'll remember. But if she does I'll just tell her I was going to hurl if we didn't go."

The walk back was uneventful. Amanda rattled on about her evening and Lottie was happy for the distraction of her bar-tales. In some ways, she wished she had it in her to let loose and dance on the stripper pole like Amanda, or even hook up with guys as easily as Sam. Just be a normal college student on spring break.

But she wasn’t. And probably never would be again. She hadn't been normal since her parents died. She never let loose anymore, couldn't let loose. Forever guarded, the walls she put up wouldn't let her. She certainly couldn't have normal relationships—with friends or with men.

The suite was quiet and empty, just as she had left it. Amanda headed straight for the back bedroom, flopping on the bed and tossing her purse on the nightstand. "Hey, you care if I crash in here with you."

Actually, she preferred it. Sleeping alone was low on her list of desires.

"Not at all."

"Good. I get the feeling Julien and Sam are going to come back here and I'd rather not have to listen to them doing the nasty..."

Lottie climbed onto the bed on the opposite side of Amanda, who was kicking off her shoes. "Two guys in one day. That can't be safe."

Amanda shrugged. "Well, at least there was a few hours and a shower between them. 'Sides, she always uses protection."

"Still…" Lottie mentally took back her passing desire to be able to hook up with men as easily as Sam.

Amanda's phone buzzed. She fished it out of her purse, read something on the screen, chuckled, and then typed a quick reply before dropping the phone onto the nightstand.

"What's so funny?"

Without undressing or changing, Amanda slid under the covers. "Sam's actually concerned we got home safely. Weird. Well, g'night Lotts."

"Goodnight."

Like a switch had been flipped, within minutes Amanda was lightly snoring.

The sound was soothing. After locking the bedroom door (last thing she wanted was for Sam and Julien to stumble into their bedroom) and changing back into her Pajamas, she took one final look around the empty room and then clicked off the lamp.

Happy to have Amanda's warm body beside her, she quickly fell asleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

S
am's drunken slur grated heavily on Xavier's nerves, making him cringe with every high-pitched squeal. She was blathering on about something barely coherent, but the last thing he cared to do was pay attention long enough to figure out what she was saying. God help Julien if he decided to bring that plastic bimbo to their family home. At least the Guest House was vacant—in the middle of a renovation not scheduled to be completed until shortly before Jazz Fest.

His gaze was fixated on the closed door to the women's restroom where Amanda had scurried off with Lottie. He didn't know what to think of the situation. Even for all her admissions of lunacy, he didn't peg her for a cutter, or an attention seeker. Whatever was going on with her, she seemed genuinely confused by it. And she definitely believed it.

He hated dwelling on anything remotely paranormal. From Grandmere's potions and Voodoo rituals, to his mother's fortune telling and spirit channeling, to his family legacy, to the contents of his store, he was constantly around the idea of the supernatural. And he didn't believe any of it.

But he too had dreams. Well, really just one. The same one. Over and over.

The door to the women's restroom opened and Amanda, then Lottie, still looking shell-shocked, emerged. Her beautiful face was lined with worry, her blue eyes haunted. He wished he'd had more time with her before the hurricane that now surrounded him crashed through the door.

As much as he hated the occult, he wanted to know what she'd seen, what she'd experienced, why her delicate brows pushed so fiercely together, why she chewed nervously on her bottom lip as the pair skirted the edge of the bar. It was pretty obvious they were trying to escape without being seen.

The plastic-haired drunk hanging from his brother's arm was part of the problem, he knew that, but she was only a small part. Lottie's demons went much deeper.

He rose, ready to meet them at the door. He might not know for sure how he felt about her claims or how to react to them, but he knew how he felt about her. Whether it was pure surface attraction or just fascination, she called to him and he needed to know more. Besides, he wasn't going to let two women traipse around the Quarter unaccompanied at this late hour. The vampires at
Luxure
might be mostly harmless, but they weren't completely harmless. And they weren't the only dangers in this town.

Sam screeched at them and he cringed. Amanda waved and then they disappeared from the bar.

Time to go.

He started forward but was stopped by Julien's hand around his arm. He stared at the hand and then at his brother. "What are you doing?"

"I should ask you the same thing." There was something off about his voice.

Xavier tried to pull his arm away but Julien held fast.

"You seriously aren't going after that crazy broad," he said. Once again, his voice sounded…wrong somehow, but Xavier couldn't pinpoint why.

"I'm just walking them back to their hotel. Why the fuck do you care?"

"You can't be with her."

"Who says I'm trying to
be
with anyone." He attempted to pull his arm away again, with a little more force this time, but still failed. "Jesus, would you let go already."

Julien stepped forward until his face was inches from Xavier's. Fuck, his eyes…they glistened with pure hate.

"She's crazy. She's cursed. She'll bring you nothing but misery and pain."

Speaking of crazy…

Or just fucking wasted.

Without restraint this time, Xavier shoved his brother back and jerked his arm away. Julien fell into the bar, knocking over a beer in the process. He blinked a couple times.

"What the hell…?"

Xavier didn't wait around. Pushing through the crowded bar and onto the sidewalk, he quickly swept the street in each direction for Amanda and Lottie. They were gone. Of course. Dumbass Julien pretty much guaranteed that.

Assuming their hotel was one of the many in the heart of the Quarter, he jogged down St. Philip, scanning Royal as he passed, hoping to spot Lottie's mane of blond curls in the darkness. Nothing. The street was virtually vacant.

He turned onto Bourbon and continued as far as Orleans where the crowd on the street made it pointless to continue. He had no idea if he was headed the right direction anyway. They could be staying on Frenchman for all he knew.

Chasing after them might be futile, but he'd kick his own ass from here to Sunday if something happened to them. Right after he kicked Julien's ass. He needed to know they at least made it back safely. He'd figure out what he needed to know about Lottie later.

With a grimace, he headed back to the Irish bar. Luckily the plastic bimbo was still glued to his brother's arm. Somehow, she was not only still standing, but even drunker than before.

"Call your friends," he said.

Her head swayed unsteadily from side to side as she turned to him, not a single drop of recognition in her unfocused eyes.

"What are you doing back here?" Julien asked.

"I wasn’t talking to you," he replied without taking his eyes off Sam. "Call your friends."

"Huh?

"Call. Your. Friends. Amanda...Lottie."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

She fumbled through her purse, pulling out various items and setting them on the bar—lipstick, a compact, her wallet, some tissues—until she finally found her phone. With a smile that suggested she'd found gold instead of a phone, she held it up.

He waited...impatiently, and she just looked at him. After a few agonizing seconds, he took the phone from her. It was possible he actually yanked it from her, but he liked to think he gently removed it from her hands.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd lied to himself.

"Hey!"

He ignored her.

There was an unread text message from Amanda. Good enough. Hitting reply, he wrote,
You make it home okay?

While waiting for the response, he sifted through her contacts, finding Lottie's number and committing it to memory.

The phone chirped and he shifted back to text messages. It was Amanda...thank God.

Ha! You are fucking drunk! Yes, we're here. Try not to lose your keycard.

He passed the phone to Sam. She snatched it back.

Without a parting word, he turned and left. He'd gotten what he needed. Lottie—-and Amanda—were safely back at their hotel.

The moment he walked through the door to his house, Xavier knew something wasn't right. The door to the ritual room was closed and he could clearly hear voices coming form the other side. He didn't normally pay much attention to the séances, cleansing rituals, or whatever other mumbo jumbo his female relatives were engaged in. But it was four a.m. Why on earth would his mother or Grandmere have clients at this hour?

Listening carefully, he realized it was only Grandmere. He decided to ignore it, as he normally did. She had more than earned the right to have her own personal ritual any time she desired. Even at four a.m.

That and he was dog tired and ready to put the night behind him. He still regretted allowing Lottie to escape without his escort. Thankfully her dumbass friend had been able to text him or he would have had to check every room in their hotel to make sure she was safe. Or comb the streets until he found them. Or sleep in the hotel foyer like some crazed stalker until they arrived.

Now, sleep was all he could think about.

Grandmere's chanting became louder, interrupting his thoughts. Ears pricked, he crept toward the door. He'd been wrong. It wasn't just her.

What the hell was she thinking? Having late night clients was not only crazy, but could be dangerous. At least during normal hours, someone was usually around in case things went badly. But now? She was completely vulnerable.

Rattled but not so unsettled to interrupt, he pressed his ear to the door. At first, only her familiar chant greeted him, but then another voice replaced it. Deeper, gravelly, male.

He cracked the door. Cloudy eyes stared straight at him. Sweat covered her body, soaking her clothes. Tendrils of gray dreadlocks clung to her saturated skin. Though she stood perfectly still, he could see the rise and fall of her chest, like she'd recently been engaged in some very vigorous dancing.

"Come in child," the unfamiliar male voice slid from her familiar mouth.

He pushed the door open wider, keeping his feet firmly in the other room, and scanned the room. Besides an intricate symbol drawn with sand on the floor, nothing in the room was out of place and she was alone.

"Are you all right?"

"She is lost," the male voice replied. "She needs your help. You must trust her. Only she holds the key."

Okay, he had to be mistaken. That voice couldn't come from the old woman before him. But there wasn't anyone else, at least not anyone visible.

"She is trapped. You must trust her. You must help her."

"Grandmere…?"

She continued to stare at him with her unseeing eyes. There was something foreign about them. In fact, her entire expression was foreign, like it belonged to another face.

"Grandmere," he said more firmly.

Silence. Had she even heard his words? There was nothing in her reaction to indicate she had. A pit formed in his stomach and he suddenly feared for her mental safety. Maybe all the years of believing this crap had finally gotten to her.

Pushing to door wide he strode toward her and gently took her shoulders. "Grandmere," he repeated in an even firmer voice, his face directly in front of hers. "It's me, Xavier. Talk to me. Are you okay?"

She blinked a few time times and then took a deep breath, her expression returning to normal. The knot in his stomach relaxed. Releasing his grip on her, he retrieved a glass from the buffet, filled it with water from the neighboring pitcher, and placed it into her hands. Her gnarled and knotted fingers wrapped around it and she took a drink.

"Thank you." Her voice wavered.

"Everything okay? You had me scared there for a moment."

"Why, what happened?" Her trembling hand set the glass back on the buffet.

"You were talking. Don't you remember?"

"Of course not. No one ever remembers when they're possessed by Loa."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he set his jaw. "Grandmere, please be serious."

"I am serious. You are the one in denial," she chided. "It isn't my fault you can't see your nose in front of your face."

The eye rolling was even harder to resist.

"What did I say?"

"Just gibberish."

"Just because you think it's gibberish, don't mean I will. What did I say, boy?" Her eyes, even though they were so clouded they were a mass of white, focused intently on him, letting him know she meant business.

"Something about being trapped, and trusting her, and helping her, and freeing her." She hadn't said the last part so he wasn't sure why he added it.

"Oh." She seemed disappointed. "Why would he say that?" she added in a quiet voice obviously meant for her ears only.

The mention of a man piqued his interest. "He? Who is he?"

"Go to bed, Xavier. It ain't important."

Five minutes ago he would have taken her advice, went to bed and forgotten it. Now, he had to know. "It is important. You were speaking in a man's voice. Who were you trying to channel?"

"Papa Legba."

He had to strain his brain to remember who Papa Legba was besides a Talking Heads song. Oh, right, the gatekeeper to the spirit world, Legba was the Loa one must contact before they can access the dead.

"Who were you trying to contact?"

"It don't matter. Go to bed." As sharp as her tone was, there was also an undeniable sadness to her words.

"Of course it matters," he said softly. "It always matters."

"Your stupid grandfather. Why he had to up and have a heart attack after I begged him over and over to quit the drink and the smokes and the bacon. Stubborn. Just like you. Now go to bed before I have to drag you there myself."

Well, at least she was back to normal. And obviously wanted to be alone. A request he intended to honor.

"If you insist." He kissed her cheek and she swatted at him like he was an annoying gnat. "Goodnight."

As he climbed the stairs to his room, he heard her muttering to herself. Thankfully, in her own voice.