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I let him enjoy the meal. It was going in my stomach, but I felt like if I could give him that moment of pleasure, it was worth it. He’d earned the money to eat, after all.
And he finished every bit of it, using the last of the tots to wipe the grease off of the plate before putting it in my mouth.
As the sun set and the cicadas sang, we stood in front of the cute but unassuming 618 Burgundy. In fact, the house next door had all the flash, decorated in all manner of colors and banners as a Krew house for Mardi Gras, but not Lady Geneviève’s place. Only a small duplex, the building had two matching doors on opposite ends, complete with a stoop, shutters, and a solid glass window above it—a transom, I think they’re called. Between the doors, two matching narrow floor-to-ceiling windows, both concealed by more shutters, as was the style of the Quarter for the most part. It even had decorative moldings, and though no balconies of latticework, it did have gingerbread trim and fancy corbels on both sides. All very typical of almost any small home in the city.
The house numbers were on the glass, leading us to the unit on the right. I had no clue what to expect behind that door, and Luc probably didn’t either. “Hey, Luc. I know this is scary, right?” Turning to look at him, I noticed how he squinted in the dying sun—like anybody else would.
“It is. I’m afraid of making it worse. You know?” He tugged the hat down a little lower to block the glare. “I only just met you.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I haven’t had enough time to get to know you, and I’d really like to.”
Reaching out, I ran my hand along his arm, feeling nothing, but I could see it. I cupped his elbow before sliding down to his wrist and hand. Luc gripped my fingers, but of course, his went right through mine. Still, I wanted to comfort him. Needed to.Though I didn’t understand why, nor did I want to analyze it. “Well, what do you want to know?”
“Huh. Well. What’s your favorite color?”
“Brown,” I blurted without thinking. “Like your eyes.”
His mouth made an O, but he didn’t say anything.
“What about you?” I asked him.
“I’d always thought green like the grass on a warm spring day, but now? I’m liking brown a bit more.”
“Brown? Are you copying me?”
“No.” He shook his head, obviously trying to look serious, but his cheeky grin gave him away. “More like the brown of your hair. Dark and rich, but not too much.” He slid a hand over my head that I very much wanted to feel. That need had been building in me and it felt like it would explode if I didn’t do something—anything—quickly.
“This doesn’t even look like a voodoo priestess lives here.”
Luc raised an eyebrow. “And what would that look like?”
“I don’t know. Let’s get this over with.” I knocked on the door.
And stood there waiting, expectantly.
After a silent minute, I knocked again. From inside, I heard. “I hear you. Wait a minute for my old bones already.” Then the door cracked open and a wrinkled, coppery face peeked out. “What you want? It’s getting late. Oh.” The door opened wide, giving us the first full view of Lady Geneviève, the voodoo mambo-priestess in all her hodgepodge glory. She was maybe five feet tall and wore a dress of patchwork in every color of the rainbow. The garish cloth nearly made my head hurt. Her eyes, so dark they were probably black, flew open wide. “This is the most interestin’ thing I seen in a while.” Her face was old but timeless. If you asked me how old she was, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe somewhere between eighty and infinity.
“We, uh, we came for your help.” I gave her a little bow as if she were royalty. Hell, for all I knew, she was. “Please.”
“Help with what? Getting rid of the spirit attached to you?”
“Oh, God, no. I—” Nearly said things I shouldn’t. “We want to make him whole. Corporal. See, he was stolen from his body. And it was wrong. Under false pretenses.”
She glared at Luc.
“Can you see him, then?”
She glared at me.
Luc stepped a little closer to me on the little stoop. “I don’t know. I don’t think she’s going to help.”
“I don’t know if I can.” She eyed him up and down. “And yes, I can see and hear him. I commune with spirits. All my life.” She rolled her eyes. “Most folks think it’s nonsense, but you…” She pointed at me and then clapped her hands. “You have firsthand experience to say it’s not,dontcha?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nodded.
“Guess you two better come in.” She went into the house, leaving the door open behind her, so we followed. I shut the door and joined them, walking across dark, hardwood floors. The walls had been painted a charcoal gray, but with the antique white trim and the last of the day’s sun coming in the window, those floors gleamed, and the room felt bright. “Sit, please.” She gestured to a round table in the center of the room beneath a grand chandelier. She had certainly done a lot with the humble space.
