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A glowing ring.
It was hard to tell beneath the azure light pouring from the jewelry, but it looked gold. Rich and silky. Could be worth enough to save my life. But I’d have to get it off the bone. And it was glowing. And making music.
I was afraid but had to take the risk. I mean, this was life or death—Mylife or death. And this fellow was already gone. No one else might have cared about me, but I still wanted to live, to survive.Fuck!My entire body hurt. I’d have boot print-shaped bruises covering my sides. Slowly, I inched forward, reaching my hand out toward the glow.
The music stopped, and the light dimmed, fading to nothing. I grabbed it as the last of the light faded and yanked it off the skeleton. I felt it, heavy in my palm, weighing more than I’d thought it could. And it was warm.Fuck! What was I getting myself into? Ultimately, it didn’t matter. If I wanted to see the sun come up the next morning, I had to try.
I slid the ring on my finger.
The music started again. This time, it was incessantly loud. Piano, guitar, a snare drum, and then a voice. It sang about a rose, and then I saw a figure on his knees in front of me. Head down. But he slowly looked up. And stared right at me. He solidified as I stared back. Big, brown eyes in a Clark Gable-like face. A younger Gable, though. Close to my age. Prominent nose,soft lips that turned down in pure sorrow. But then surprise mixed with it across his features.
“Holy fucking deities and Mars.” I was seeing a mother-fucking-ghost. And not a fancy light show or spooky sheet, either. No, a man in a button-down shirt and a seriously confused one at that.
“Are? Are you talking to me?” he asked with a voice like buttered rum.
“Y-Yeah…”
The man sat up straight, shoulders going back. “Well. This is new.”
“Y-Yeah…” Well, what the fuck was I supposed to say? To a ghost, a sexy ghost even.
“I’m Luc, Luc Marchand.” He held out his hand, and I leaned forward to grip his long, slender fingers, but it went right through him. “Ahh…you’re alive then. Well. This is also new.”
“You, uh, you know you’re dead?”
He nodded. “Been here a long, long time.”
“You’re a musician? I heard music.” In fact, there was a trace of it still in the air, circling us but fading.
“Yes. What about you?”
“I…” What the hell did I tell this handsome man? Dead or not, I was a loser and nothing more. “Doesn’t matter. Hey, I need to get out of here.”
“I understand.”
And wow, I watched as a blush bloomed across the face of this man, glowing in front of me.
“Gah! You’re—” I was about to tell him how gorgeous he was. I was ridiculous. “Sorry. It was nice to meet you.” Turning to the side, I climbed again, pulling myself up by measures. No easy fit with bruised ribs and jaw, and I still felt like puking from the gut punches. But I managed to get to the top. I rolled over on myback, looking up at the faint stars and wondering how the fuck I got here.
Not in the cemetery, in particular, but in my life. Running from goons over a gambling debt. Lady Luck was a cold-hearted bitch. But then again, I’d been running my whole life from one thing or another, never toward anything.
After catching my breath, I pulled myself up and started the long walk back to the French Quarter. To my surprise, Luc walked beside me. He turned with a smile. “Apparently, I’m coming with you.”
“With? Me?”
“You took the ring.” He pointed at my hand. “So, I go with you.”
Deities! It hit me then. He was attached to the ring. I didn’t steal jewelry I could pawn for cash to save my ass—not that it would have been enough anyway—I stole a ring embedded with a ghost. I couldn’t turn that over to anyone. It wouldn’t be right. I sighed.Fuck my life. He was sexy and sweet, but I didn’t much need a supernatural companion. My life was shit without that, so what the fuck would it be with it? “I’m Austin.”
“Nice to meet you, Austin…uh…do you have a last name?”
“Broussard. As if it matters.”
“Austin Broussard. That sounds lyrical on my tongue.”
“That, uh, that’s sweet.” We made it to the front of the memorial and realized I had to get lost in the Quarter if I was going to have a chance of surviving. “It’s going to be a long walk.” I glanced over at him. “And we may have to run. I don’t know if you’re going to be able to do that in those shoes.” They were nice, a leather and tweed oxford that paired nicely with his high-waisted slacks.
Luc stretched his arms and then put a hat on that I hadn’t seen before on his head. It was a fedora, like Indiana Jones wore,though not dusty, and it had a wider band. “Well, Mr. Broussard, I cannot feel my feet. It’s you that will be doing all the running.”
