Prologue
Lily
Pirate’s Alley!
And darkness.
And a strange shadow of that darkness seemed to be moving.
Just walk! Lily Morgan commanded herself.
It was such an eerie darkness that seemed to permeate such a small spot! And still, in what seemed like the strange and misty darkness was filled with the sounds beyond, the sounds of the City of New Orleans, right in the Vieux Carre where so very much life continued into the wee hours the night—and morning.
But in this little block space of the city, surrounded by the life of Jackson Square, Chartres Street, Royal Street, Bourbon Street, famous bars and restaurants . . .
It could be so very, very, bizarrely dark! Here between the side of the cathedral and the Cabildo. And the air itself . . . perhaps it had found the perfect place here to become misted from the buzzed chain-smokers puffing away throughout the city, or the cooking fires or electricity even, perhaps mixed with the humidity of the day.
But it seemed that the shadows were moving again, moving with evil intent, human and inhuman, writhing dark within the dark!
For a moment, Lily froze. She just stood still, not at all sure how she had come to stand in the heavy gray of the air and the black of the shadows in Pirate’s Alley that night.
Labor Day weekend. She and friends, usually so hard-working and stable, had decided that they needed to celebrate. And they all knew the city well. She had grown up in the Irish Channel, Marci had been born and raised in the Garden District, Claudia had grown up on a small ranch for carriage horses in Treme, and Darcy had grown up not five blocks from here, just in from Esplanade!
And she loved the city! How many times had she walked these very steps?
But tonight, so . . .
How?
Naturally, they partied aweebit hard. Starting off with one of Lily’s favorite restaurants on the Square, Muriel’s. Then since they were on Jackson Square to begin with, it seemed a natural thing to take a short walk and move on to the Old Absinthe House.
Lily didn’t even really like absinthe, but that didn’t matter. The place hadn’t become that famous a hangout without offering a full array of bar offerings. She was a “wine woman” herself, and they had several offerings which were quite delicious. It didn’t matter; she’d always loved her home, loved the incredible history of places such as the Old Absinthe House, Jackson Square itself, and so much more.
It was the news, of course, that was disturbing. Supposedly, there had been a bit of a “Rougarou” cult in the city, people thinking that they were creatures, Cajun-French versions of “loups-garous” or werewolves. Of course, they’d all been taken down by law enforcement; and seriously, while New Orleans was like any other big city and had sometimes been known for its crime rate, now it was supposed to be down. Heck! Kids she’d gone to school with were on the police force, and they were good!
Just walk! She told herself again. Get out of the darkness and down Royal Street, hurry along the blocks, and you’ll reach the Monteleone!
That’s where they’d been supposed to enjoy their last drink of the night, at the beautiful Carousel Bar! So . . .
How had she come to be alone . . . here? Claudia had started talking to the bartender, telling them she’d be along soon. Marci had excused herself to take a phone call from her boyfriend who might be able to meet them, and Darcy, hm.
She’d thought that Darcy had been right behind her.
She turned.
And it was then that a dark and eerie shadow seemed to sweep around her . . .
She opened her mouth to scream. But she could not.
“And now,” the shadowy darkness whispered, “you are one with us!”
Jackson
Pirate’s Alley.
Situated right by the famed St. Louis Cathedral, the grand dame of Jackson Square. It was right in the heart of the city. Of course, St. Louis Cathedral was beautiful, the oldest cathedral in continuous use in what was now the United States—well, so Jackson had been told—along with the Royal Presidio Chapel out in Monterey. But the point here was that the cathedral was grand, a tourist attraction for those of every religion, and truly, the grand dame of Jackson Square. The Square is a gorgeous patch of green with its equestrian statue of Andrew Jackson, daily offering of fascinating museums, local art, its horseshoe of fabulous shops and restaurants, and more.
Café du Monde was right across the street, and beyond that, the mighty Mississippi.
