Josette (6 page)

Why had she never felt as though she belonged in this family? Why had she never taken to this kind of life? She took another swallow that went down hard, wishing the hour she'd planned on staying would fly by.

Poor as they were, Maman always kept a tidy home, even though Josette wasn't quite sure where pieces of furniture or knickknacks came from when they mysteriously appeared. While they had never gone without food, shoes were another matter. Maman didn't believe in wearing them, said feet belonged connected to the earth. She couldn't have had an easy life raising four children, along with Vivienne and Lucien after Maman's sister had passed away. But what made this shanty along the bayou feel like a real home was the tangible camaraderie that existed within this tight-knit family—herself excluded.

So in the long run, had Josette truly bettered herself by marrying Louis? Did she live a richer life alone and lonely in a mansion that saw only Vivienne and another cousin cross the threshold? She couldn't think such thoughts. Not now, not when Maman watched her with that penetrating, all-knowing gaze that had seen God-knew-what over the years.

Maman's eyes narrowed at Josette's study of her. “Alexia, bring me Benoit.”

Damn it!
Josette's skin crawled. She had to get out of there. Immediately. God, she hated that so-called pet Maman was known to use in her rituals.
Li Grand Zombi
—her reptilian deity. On any given day, Maman treated that disgusting creature better than she'd ever treated Josette.

Alexia scampered to the rear of the shanty and quickly returned with the albino snake coiled heavy in her hands. She set it on Maman's shoulder, where it slithered around her neck and trailed along one arm. A faint grin passed over Maman's lips.

Alexia headed for the front door, calling out as she disappeared. “Will you help me ride Satan standing up again, Bastièn?”

Josette gasped. “Again?”

With a roll of his eyes, René rose to his feet. “Not to worry,
chère
. Bastièn will be on one side of her and I'll be on the other.”

Josette stood. “I'd better come along.”

“Sit,” Maman said, the single word filled with authority.

Josette fisted her hands in the folds of her skirt and did as she was told, watching René walk out the door. “You obviously have your reasons for asking me to remain behind, so you may as well have your say.”

Maman balanced the fat snake's head in one hand, its beady red eyes staring at Josette, its equally red tongue flickering in and out. With the other hand, she held the rabbit's foot by its chain and watched it move slowly about in a clockwise manner. Then it stopped and began circling in the other direction. So she was using the blasted thing as a pendulum, no doubt asking it questions regarding Josette.

Just when she thought she could take no more, and made to stand, Maman looked up. “You intend to sleep with the man who killed your sister? Produce yet another one of his bastards?”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Maman, don't be ridiculous. He had nothing to do with Solange's death, nor did giving birth to his child do her in. She stopped eating—that's what killed her.”

“
Non
, that is not why she died.” Maman lowered the snake to the table and let it slowly slither toward Josette. “I'm warning you. Leave Alexia to me or you will suffer the consequences.”

Josette stood and backed away, relieved to hear the sound of multiple footsteps coming along the porch.

Alexia ran in ahead of her uncles. “Satan didn't want to do anything but stand there, Maman. You been bleedin' that good-for-nuthin' horse again?”

“
Oui
,” Maman said, drawing the serpent onto her lap. “For my medicine.”

Josette's insides shook so hard it was a wonder her bones didn't rattle. She turned to René. “Might I have a moment with you outside?”

He scraped her skin with those dark, penetrating eyes. “
Oui.
”

Once on the porch, she sat in one of the four rockers lining the deck. “I'm concerned about Alexia, René.”

Her brother settled into the one next to her and gave a little grunt. “You got something new to tell me, because I do believe I've heard this from you before.”

“I doubt it. Lucien has been teaching Alexia how to run a still.”

She felt, rather than saw, René stiffen. “She told you this?”

“Not a half hour ago. She said she was at it for six months before she went to San Francisco.”

“And you believe her?”

“Wouldn't you if she said something like that to you?”

René took in a long slow breath, and let it out with the same slow precision. “I'll be takin' care of this.”

“I'm forbidding Alexia to come here any longer, René.”

He lifted a brow. “You mean to keep her from her family? I do not think that a wise decision, sister.”

The way he said it, his words low and dripping with veiled warning, made Josette fight to maintain control. “I mean what I say, René. I do not want her under Maman's influence any longer.”

“She is under mine.”

“You know full well that her father has arrived in New Orleans.”

“
Oui
, but she is a Thibodeaux, and always will be. I'll be lookin' after her.”

“René, please. She belongs with me until her father takes over. You are the very person who can convince her of her place in this world. At least give her the chance to achieve the dream our sister wanted but never got. Doesn't the fact that Alexia took the risk of stowing aboard a ship in order to find her father tell you something?”

He turned his head until he looked her squarely in the eyes, his gaze growing hard. “You wish her to live with you in a cold home that has no soul until her papa takes her under his wing? And what will you be up to, Josette? Will you be fallin' under his spell and openin' your arms wide to him? Like your sister did?”

Josette sprang to her feet, her composure disintegrating. “If you must know, there are rumors about that Maman is grooming Lucien to become her
Hougan
, and that he intends to initiate Alexia as his
Manbo
. René, we're talking about a virgin priestess he means to deflower during his initiation. You know Maman's intention is to have Alexia eventually take her place as the voodoo queen.”

Something shifted in René's eyes before his cold gaze swept past Josette's shoulder and landed on the murky bayou waters. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

“I swear, René, if you cannot see that Maman has gone far afield from what Marie Leveau taught her, then you are blind as well as a fool. Maman's wickedness is worsening. I don't know how you and Bastièn can remain living here with her. Oh yes, I forgot. While she treats Alexia as her princess, you two are her knights in shining armor who can do no wrong.”

Thoroughly disgusted, Josette rose from her chair and headed for the door. “We need to leave. Alexia will see us home.”

He grabbed her wrist, preventing her from going inside. “Alexia remains here for the rest of the day. She be needin' family right now, somethin' you never did catch on to.”

His lips moved a couple of times as if he intended to say one thing or another but changed his mind. After a long pause, he said, “I am no fool, little sister. Did it ever occur to you that Bastièn and I stay with Maman so we can watch over her? See to it she does no harm to anyone, especially Alexia?”

As she stared down at her brother, the backs of her eyes pricked with tears. “I do not want her here overnight, René. On that I will fight you to my last breath. You think you watch after her? Then tell me how she's managed to slip over to Lucien's for months on end without anyone the wiser? Give me credit for knowing what is best for her.”

René studied her for a long while. “I'll see her home by nightfall. Leave her here.”

There was no mistaking the power emanating from her brother. She'd lost this round. “Then who is to see me home?”

“Bastièn will.” A slow smile lifted a corner of René's mouth. “He has business to attend to in Nawlins.”

Beneath the soft glow of a gas wall sconce, Cameron seated himself on a red velvet chair opposite Madame Olympée. Crossing one foot over his knee, he discreetly swiped his thumb across a tiny smudge on his otherwise spotless shoe.

A smile worked one corner of Madame's mouth. “Ever the fastidious one, aren't you, Monsieur Andrews?”

Merde,
but her accent was horrid. She was about as French as he was East Indian. “Since it's just the two of us, feel free to call me Mister Andrews. Trying to wrap your tongue around the word
monsieur,
or any other French word for that matter, must get tedious at times.”

She tapped a slow rhythm on the ornate desk with her scarlet lacquered nails. “I know quite well what to do with my tongue,
Mister
Andrews. Don't tell me you intend to cause trouble again. Since Trevor is not with you, my security detail would find it rather boring having to grapple with only you. Still, I surprise myself allowing you in here.”

He raised a hand. “You know full well the Thibodeaux brothers started that fracas back then. Might I add, you were more than handsomely compensated for damages. As for the mess four years ago, that was Trevor's doing. But we won't discuss the amount of absinthe you so generously supplied him that corrupted his brain, will we? I'm here for a reason other than availing myself of your gentlemen's club.”

“Oh my, Mister Andrews. Whatever happened to that young man filled with joie de vivre?” She lifted her champagne flute to rouged lips. “Something sucked the life out of you.”

Cameron took in a slow breath while he picked a speck of imaginary lint off his trouser leg. If he was going to get the information he needed, holding back was not the thing to do. “You knew Judge Morgan and his family moved to San Francisco and built a successful hotel business there?”

A faint expression Cameron couldn't identify passed over Madame's countenance. “I was sorry to see him leave Nawlins. He was a fair and decent man.”

“I married his daughter, Dianah.”

Madame arched a manicured brow. “That, I did not know.”

“She passed away.”

The liquid in Madame's glass quivered. “When?”

“Two years ago. She died in childbirth.” His mouth went dry. Oh God, uttering the words still hurt. “I came this evening to speak to you of something else—something that occurred here nearly thirteen years ago.”

He cleared his throat. “It seems the young woman I spent all my time with back then might have held a hidden agenda. Do you know of this?”

Madame studied him for a long moment, taking tiny sips of her bubbly. A clock ticked somewhere behind him, growing louder by the second. Damn her, she knew. Not much occurred in this town without her catching wind of it.

“Ah,” she said at last. “It seems Solange Thibodeaux tricked the both of us.”

“Then you know why I am here.” Despite his parched throat, he didn't dare touch the drink sitting before him—if he did manage a swallow, his unsettled stomach would likely toss it back up.

“I assume you seek verification of what has recently been presented to you?”

His jaw clenched at her deliberate game of drawing out the inevitable. “You are obviously aware she gave birth to a child. I have come to ascertain if I might be the father.”

Madame took her time setting her champagne glass down. She shuffled a few pieces of paper on her desk and then set them aside with a flick of her fingers. “Solange gave birth to a little girl about eight months after you were shipped off to England. Are you here to stay, this time?”

“No.” The walls were closing in on him, and an ache crept along the back of his skull.

“A pity.”

“Why is that, Madame?”

“Too bad for a certain young girl, I should think.”

“Can you swear this child is mine?”

Madame slid her gaze to his grasp on the chair's arms. His knuckles had turned white. “You were Solange's first and only lover, Mister Andrews. I am certain as the rising sun the youngster in question is yours. But I suspect in your heart you already know that.”

Cameron shifted in his seat and eased his tight grip, which only served to increase the tension pummeling his insides. “How can I be certain?”

“Solange came to me with a business proposition. If I would train her, she'd agree to become my prime courtesan, so long as she was able to have you as her only client until she got you out of her blood. Since that particular Thibodeaux family is possessed of extraordinary beauty, she would have been a great prize, to be sure. Unfortunately, she lied, which destroyed her.”

“I need the truth, Madame. All of it. I take very seriously the notion that the child she left behind might be mine.”

Madame leaned over her desk, and clasping her hands together, took aim with her searing gaze. “Solange came to me some time after you'd sailed away. We had many long talks, the two of us. She was intent on keeping the child, begged for my help. She was afraid to eat her mother's food, drink from her mother's cups for fear she'd lose the child, so I took her in until it was too late for Odalie to work her herbal magic.”

Good God!
“You know of Odalie and her way with herbs?”

“I do. Although I am particular in my business affairs, and a physician visits once a month, there are rare occasions when certain, shall we say, accidents occur. Odalie may be evil as the night is black, but she serves me well in that regard. So, yes, I know of her and some of what she is capable of doing.”

Madame shifted some papers on her desk again, then eased her gaze somewhere over Cameron's shoulder. “I have my thoughts as to what actually happened to Solange.”

The pain lingering at the back of his skull sliced through his brain like a hot knife. “What are you getting at?”

“I have no proof, so I would rather not say. However, what I do know is that Odalie did not take kindly to her daughter losing her innocence to you before she could make her a voodoo priestess. Since Solange's birth, her mother meant for the girl to follow in her footsteps. Giving birth to babies comes after the initiation, not before. You should watch your step around Odalie, by the way. She's not forgotten how you ruined her plans. The same goes for your daughter.”

“My daughter? What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

“Odalie likely has her mind set on Solange's offspring taking her dead mother's place.” Madame went back to sipping her champagne and rifling through papers.

Cameron's foul mood worsened. “But now, after all you endured with regard to Solange, you insist on employing her brother, who is about as honest as a riverboat gambler.”

Madame laughed. “As a matter of fact, Bastièn was tossed off the
Marie-Thérèse
for that very thing. He was supposed to cheat for the house, not line his own pockets.”

Cameron shook his head. “You've got your hands full, then. But you must figure he's worth the price, since you're as shrewd a businesswoman as I've ever come across. But why him, of all people?”

“Oh, you've not seen the man he's become—a veritable Adonis. When he took to privately servicing some of the young widows in the parish, trouble soon followed. Rumor has it there were a number of hasty exits made through windows rather than doors, and more than one gunshot fired. Since it became apparent he was not about to cease his latest business venture, I figured I could at least train him properly, perhaps keep him, and some of the higher-ranking members of this town, a bit safer. In many respects.”

Cameron grunted. “And you collect what, half his pay, now?”

“Oh, he earns far more doing things my way than when he was on his own. He's also an excellent student. In fact, the entire family is quite intelligent. Wayward for the most part, but clever. Have you met your daughter's aunt, Mister Andrews?”

“I have.”

“Madame LeBlanc is the youngest of the Thibodeaux clan—even lovelier than was Solange. But untouchable to men like you.” She shrugged and sipped again. “Or any man for that matter. The two sisters looked nothing alike, by the way.”

An odd sensation—something he didn't care to dwell on—wended through Cameron. He nearly squirmed when Josette's exquisite face swam before him. He needed to end this little meeting and get to his appointment with Michel. “I have no interest in this part of the conversation.”

“A shame. She's beautiful, wealthy, and the only straight-shooter of the lot. Runs a legitimate business next door to the dressmaker, Madame Charmontés. Madame LeBlanc creates all manner of skin preparations, and the ladies swarm to her shop hoping to obtain her flawless complexion.”

“She's Louis LeBlanc's widow, so of course she'd be wealthy. But why run a small business when she doesn't have to?”

Madame took up her champagne flute once again and pressing it to her lips, gave a little shrug. “Boredom, I would suspect. Oddly enough, she sold off all her husband's holdings to that viper Émile Vennard. Very strange, that transaction.”

Cameron stood. “What LeBlanc's widow did with his holdings is none of my concern. If you'll excuse me, I'm past due in meeting someone.”

Madame leaned back in her chair and looked up at him. “Tell me something, Mister Andrews. Have you been with a woman since your wife died?”

Good God, what a question. “If you are offering to provide me with one of your ladies, I have never been less inclined.” He headed for the door.

“That's not what I asked, Mister Andrews. I now understand why you aren't the carefree spirit I've known you to be. Your joy has been swallowed up by grief. There is a certain part of your misery that will remain with you until you eradicate it. And the only way to do so is through intimacy with another woman.”

Too startled to move, he paused at the door, gripping the handle. “I came here to discuss Solange's daughter, nothing else.”

“You mean
your
daughter, don't you? Solange is dead.” She tapped one sharp nail on her chair's armrest. “When you married, did you take the vow of ‘till death do us part'?”

His throat tightened and the air left his lungs. “We did.”

“Those are merely empty words, sir. In truth, the sacred ceremony of marriage itself is what binds a couple together. And that pledge goes beyond the grave, endures until the remaining spouse has sexual congress with another.”

Chills raced up and down his spine. “That's nothing but drivel.”

Madame shook her head. “I've studied the ancient mysteries, Mister Andrews. Until you break the tie between you and Dianah by making love to another woman, you are still bound to her, whether she is dead or alive. It will be bittersweet, this undoing, but it must occur or, inch by inch, you will wither away.”

He was beginning to wonder if his legs would carry him out the door.

“You don't have to say anything. Just let the thought roll around in your head awhile.”

He had to think of something to say while he collected himself. He sure as hell didn't want her knowing how badly she'd ruffled his feathers. “Tell me, Madame, why continue with your line of work? Surely it's not for the coin. You must be quite wealthy by now.”

“If I don't keep this place running, someone else will, and I doubt they could manage as fine a job as I do.”

She had a point. “I often wondered what got you into this sort of business in the first place. Even now, you're still an attractive woman.”

“My mother died in Whitechapel, Mister Andrews.”

“Whitechapel?” At her shocking words, his grip slipped off the handle. He planted his hand squarely against the door for support. “Bloody hell, I didn't know you were from England, let alone that squalid place.”

“She died a horrid death, I might add.” Madame folded her arms around her stomach and rubbed at them as if chilled. “Although I was able to distance myself from such a sordid environment, I came to realize that it doesn't matter where one lives, or how high the social ranking, there will always be men seeking women of the night. And a good many of them bringing home disease to an innocent wife. I thought I could at least do my share in preventing some of those occurrences.”

“But how did you end up in New Orleans?”

She laughed, deep and throaty. “Your father-in-law rescued me.”

“My what?”

“Judge Morgan. He was a magistrate in London's East End back then. When I was dragged before him for stealing food, he and his young bride took me in, gave me a decent education. When they emigrated to America, they brought me along. I opened this gentlemen's club when Dianah was only a few months old, so she knew nothing of my connection to her parents.”

There went that eyebrow of hers, arching upward. “Allow me to shock you even further—Judge Morgan funded me. He, too, wanted a certain kind of traffic off these fine streets.”

“
Merde.”
He shifted about in his chair. “I had no idea.”

“I doubt anyone does. Now then, Mister Andrews, if you should change your mind and wish to break the invisible bond tying you to my dear friend's daughter, come see me. I can promise you a woman who won't bamboozle either one of us.”

Cameron managed to yank the door open. “Thank you, no. I'll be on my way.”

He stepped outside and into the night, only to have a lit cigarillo fly past his nose and hit the ground in a shower of sparks. He jumped back. “What the devil?”

From out of the dim-lit shadows, a well-dressed man lifted a shoulder off the wall he'd been leaning against. “Good evening, Monsieur Andrews.”