Cover Spell (13 page)

“And you ran right out of your shoes? Seriously?”

“That man. Did you see him?” I asked, hoping he had caught a glimpse of him.

I looked at Finn and then back to the desolate street. Headlights flashed in our direction as a car slowed down to turn. The rain streamed down my face, and I tried to catch my breath. How did I lose him? He couldn’t be far from this corner.

“No, who was he? I just saw a flash of trench coat, and then you were outta there.”

“Dammit. I can’t believe I lost him.” I should have flown.

“Babe, calm down and tell me who that was. Why are you so worked up?” His hands cupped my shoulders.

This was going to sound crazy. “The supernatural vibe I’ve been getting—it’s him. I think he knows something about Emmy Harper.”

New Orleans, 1945

J
OSETTE FOLLOWED
the shadows of the house and edged her way to the picket gate that locked the courtyard away from the street bordering the consul’s residence. I surveyed the flashing sky, and decided I should stick to the ground and forego flying while I followed Josette. Darting lightning strikes was not in my plan for tonight.

She picked up her step, and started to run as the rain fell harder on her hat and suit. I had no choice but to succumb to the wetness of the rain, and watch the water penetrate my thin, cotton shirt. There was no way to shield myself from the drops within the
Fade Spell
I was already using to remain invisible.

Josette dodged puddles, and slowed to a casual stroll whenever car headlights reflected around her petite frame. I stayed behind her for four blocks until she reached St. Charles Avenue and where the streetcar would stop for her.

The rumbling of the trolley grew louder, and scraping metal sounds intensified as the car slowed for Josette to climb aboard. The driver remained standing behind the wheel, and nodded to the French girl as she stepped onto the trolley. She shuffled her suitcase between her hands and teetered toward an open seat. Luckily, the car was mostly empty, so I was able to take the seat directly behind her. I watched her flatten her skirt repeatedly with her gloves while the car rocked back and forth. The hand pulls dangled from the ceiling around each turn, but Josette kept her gaze firmly planted in her lap.

I thought about the conversation she and Luke had about her father. Was she worried she would be recognized? What kind of power did her father have in New Orleans? What exactly did a French consul do in 1945? I made a mental note to ask Mr. and Mrs. Betts more about the consul when I got back to present-day Ivy time.

The St. Charles streetcar lurched through the winding streets of a sleeping New Orleans. The streets were dappled with mist, formed from the sudden thunderstorm. I could feel Josette’s excitement rising as we rolled closer to her rendezvous point with Luke. She was no longer straightening her skirt, but instead was gripping her suitcase, ready to leap from the moving car.

After a twenty-minute ride, the trolley slowed and deposited us on Canal Street, across from Terminal Station, home of the Southern Crescent passenger trains. Josette heaved her suitcase from the seat next to her and exited the trolley, one bouncy step after another. I waited for the other two passengers to exit in front of me to avoid bumping into them.

Once I maneuvered out of New Orleans’s most famous mode of transportation, I paused to take in the view in front of me. I marveled at the train station entrance. An arched window, probably thirty feet high, maybe more, towered above the doors. By the time I hit the pavement, Josette had already skipped through the glass doors of the station and was searching for Luke.

I ran across Canal Street to the train depot. The rain had turned to a light drizzle, and I wiped the water from my face. Inside, I found Josette hunting the platforms for her handsome lover. Desperately, she ran up and down each passenger loading area looking for Luke. I almost expected to see Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall clinging to each other by one of the station’s many columns. This place definitely had the feel of a black-and-white movie, and I loved the romantic energy charging through the station.

I inhaled and watched the green and yellow diesel cars rolled in and out of the tracks. Whistles signaled the departure of yet another train and Josette’s growing panic was tangible. I wanted to grab her empty hand and tell her we would find Luke together, but I had to stand back while she fought off the natural impulses to cave to hysteria. There was something about her innocence and despair that made me question my traveling rules. I could help her, but at what cost to the future? I resisted and stayed close to her while she waited for Luke.

The station was cold, and except for the lights drifting in from the ticket office and the passenger car windows, it was dark. Like a wandering ghost, Josette roamed the perimeter of the station, becoming more pale and listless with each step and second that passed. I couldn’t imagine where Luke was. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to propose and run, but I had been wrong about men before.

“Josette! Josette!” Luke’s voice bellowed through the station. Passengers boarding their train cars stopped to identify the origin of the unruly shouting. “Josette! I’m here. I’m here!”

Luke sprinted through the double glass doors and wrapped his arms around the graceful girl.

She dropped her suitcase and squealed with joy when she saw Luke. “I thought something had happened to you. That maybe Papa…”

She buried her face in his shoulder. The passengers shook their heads, smiled, and continued to board.

“No. No. The storm kept me. I’m here now. Oh, my darling Josette, you look scared. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or to us.” He brought her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it. “Let’s get our tickets.” He led her by the hand toward the ticket window. “Two tickets to Washington, D.C., please.”

Luke passed a few bills through the opening in the metal gate separating him from the ticket dispenser. The clerk retrieved the money and in exchange slipped two tickets under the divider. Luke snatched up the tickets and held them out for Josette.

“Two tickets to our future.” He laughed and pulled Josette to him. “We’ll be in D.C. by the morning, I’ll check in with my unit, and then put you on a train to California. Let’s go. It looks like the train is about to leave.”

Right on cue, the hollow whistle sounded. The train would leave in ten minutes. Josette looped her arm through Luke’s, he reached for her suitcase, and they walked to platform number nine.

Just outside of the passenger car, Luke stopped and stared into her eyes. “Thank you.” He paused. “You've made me the happiest man in the world, and if anything should happen to me, remember this moment. Remember us just like this—happy, fearless, and in love.”

She smiled like a girl in love. “Oui, my love, don’t say that. Nothing can separate us now. We’re together.”

I believed her. They were each other’s air to breathe, and I couldn’t imagine them being apart. She slid her arms around his neck and reached on the tips of her toes to kiss him. They stood there for what seemed like the full ten minutes before the train’s whistle blew again.

Luke lifted Josette’s bag from the platform and eased her onto the train. I watched through the glowing windows of the passenger car as the couple found seats and snuggled together for the ride ahead of them. They were absorbed in each other’s eyes. I saw Josette giggle, and imagined the sound of her girlish laugh.

The colossal diesel engine began to growl, and I stepped back as the train wheels chugged to life and carried Josette and Luke out of the station, and toward their new life together. My heart sighed with relief for them. They had escaped whatever heartache Josette’s father would have placed upon them. I was ecstatic knowing they had safely fled New Orleans hand in hand.

I walked out of Terminal Station and glanced at the sky. The lightning had ceased, and a thick fog hovering over the city replaced the drizzling rain. Flying back to the consul’s residence was my quickest and easiest option for returning to the seam. No need for trolley cars. I took a few steps around the corner of the station so no one would feel the gust of wind created by my take off. I hastily brought my arms in and leaped into the air in a tight, rotating spiral.

I breathed in a full breath of the cool, heavy air. I felt like I had just put my little sister on that train and sent her out into the world. I stayed just above the treetops and streetcar wires, and followed the route back to Chestnut Street and the French consul’s residence.

I landed in the courtyard behind the kitchen and cautiously climbed the stairs to the kitchen door. The cat was curled up in front of the stove, his bowl of milk empty. I avoided the sleeping creature and crept toward the hallway that would lead me to the spiral staircase circling the foyer’s entrance. Once I turned the corner, I heard the sound of smashing china and a male voice bellowing through the house.

“Where is she? Tell me now. Where is my daughter?” That must be the consul.

I heard something else shatter. Nervously, I crept closer to the foyer.

“We don’t know, Monsieur.” A woman was scurrying to pick up broken pieces of what I guessed was a vase by the look of the scattered flowers and water puddles on the parquet floor. “I saw her come home. She was in her room after the ball. I thought she was sleeping.”

A slight man with dark hair and porcelain skin furiously paced the foyer. He wore a tuxedo jacket with coattails. Parked next to the front door was the butler, still holding the man’s top hat and jacket. He had the same blank expression he did when he witnessed Josette’s escape.

“I want to know where she is immediately!” the angry father barked.

He reached for another vase on the pedestal next to his portrait.

“No, no, Monsieur! Please!”

The housekeeper had both hands reached out to stop the angry man from smashing the vase, but he threw it down the hall in my direction. I watched as the pieces broke around my feet, narrowly missing my legs.

He waved the delicate sequined mask I had seen on Josette’s bed earlier. Another mask was lying on the floor among the vase and flower debris.

“Find her,” he ordered.

He stormed up the stairs, and I could hear him slamming the upstairs doors and marching through the hallway that led to Josette’s room. I realized I would be stuck at the consul’s house until things calmed down. Retreating to the closet and the seam would be impossible as long as he was scouring the house.

The housekeeper turned to the stoic butler. “I’ve never seen him like this in all the times she’s gone missing. Where could she have gone now? We need to find her before he does.”

“Yes, that appears to be the case, but if she has run away, she doesn’t want him to find her.” The butler eyed the woman, and she sighed.

She swept the china scraps into a dustpan and picked up the stems of the wilted flowers. Her shoulders sank. “I love that girl. She is like my daughter. I never thought she would actually run away. Oh dear, what’s going to happen to her?”

“Jane, we both know who she is with. She’s going to be fine.”

The stiff man threw Jane a reassuring smile then quickly returned to his statue pose as the angry consul ran down the stairs.

“Meyers, call in my men at once. I want them here now.” He watched as the butler stepped over the broken vases and retreated to one of the houses back rooms. “And you, clean up this mess!” He waved his hands in the air while Jane hurriedly collected the china fragments.