Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye (7 page)

Vinnie turned and put three more quarters into the slot machine and pulled the lever. Three purple sevens appeared. The machine registered loudly again.

“I don’t know why you’re here, Ernie, but I texted Miss Denning. One of you has brought me some luck. This machine wasn’t doing anything until you guys appeared.”

Isabella grew tired. “Stop beating around the bush. Either you know something or you don’t.”

“Hey, keep your blouse on, Miss Denning. There’s been some talk about the police blaming it on the lycanthropes but I don’t think they’re involved.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” Ernie asked as the waitress returned with their drinks. He handed the Cherry Coke to Isabella and then tipped the waitress and sent her on her way.

“It doesn’t fit their pattern. There are too many victims. Granted, most of them travel in packs, but someone is bound to see a group of wolves wandering around. Another reason is because there hasn’t been a full moon.”

“Well, if it’s not the lycanthropes, then who?” Isabella asked. She’d eliminated them as possible suspects long ago because she couldn’t recall a time when wolves built altars or worshipped any significant religious symbols like the ones found at the crime scene. Vinnie needed to brush up on his lycanthropic culture. Anyone who knew anything about lycanthropes knew they didn’t need a full moon to change. The full moon made them unstoppable.

“Does the name Samedi ring a bell?” Vinnie asked.

Isabella frowned. Of course she knew who Samedi was.

“Baron Samedi?” Ernie asked. “Ah, come on Vinnie. I haven’t heard his name since I was a child. He’s a myth.”

Vinnie shrugged again. “You wanted info and I gave you all I know.”

Isabella put her empty glass next to the slot machine.
Baron Samedi?
She sure hoped it was a mere speculation on Vinnie’s part. If what she knew was true, Louisiana was in for one hell of a blood bath. She thought about it for a moment. The end of the Mayan Calendar.
Shit.
She signaled Ernie with her eyes.

Ernie put his glass down. “Well, thanks for the information. If you hear anything else will you let us know?”

“Sure thing,” Vinnie said, looking back at the slot machine.

Ernie and Isabella walked away from him and headed toward the escalator. Lucius Jones waited for them at the top. He walked toward them, running those wolf eyes all over her as she neared.

Lucius was immaculately dressed, as usual, in an expensive dark brown suit, tailored perfectly for his wide shoulders and narrow hips. His dark brown eyes continued staring at her as she approached. Isabella would have felt flattered had it been any other man. Lucius was good-looking and clean-shaven with a close cropped afro and thin nose. He was a product of a mixed heritage like her.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked as they met.

“We didn’t come to gamble,” Ernie answered.

“I know,” Lucius replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I saw you talking to Vinnie.”

“Is that a crime?” Isabella asked, still trying to avert his eyes.

Lucius smiled. “No. Vinnie gets a lot of visitors.”

“It wasn’t a social call either,” Ernie said, measuring up Lucius with his eyes. “We needed to ask him a few questions.”

Lucius put his hand on his chin. “Let me see. You needed to ask him about the murders on the east and west banks?”

Isabella stared at him. “Do you have the place bugged?”

A bell went off somewhere in the casino. All three of them looked over to and saw a young woman dancing around near one of the slot machines. Three Double Wilds displayed on her machine.

“Some people have all the luck,” Ernie muttered.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Isabella said, turning her attention back to Lucius. They had things to do and Lucius was messing with them.

“No, I don’t,” he finally said. “I don’t need to bug the casino. Most of the workers have perfect hearing and are very loyal.”

Isabella frowned knowing he spoke the truth…or at least his version of it.

“Why would you think Vinnie knows anything about those murders?”

“Because he usually knows everything,” Isabella admitted.

Lucius smiled, showing near perfect teeth which made her stomach do this funny tightening thing. “I often wonder how Vinnie does it. He’s always here gambling when he’s not working for Carlo Gino and he stays pretty much to himself while he’s here.”

“What about you, Lucius? Have you heard anything?” She knew he wouldn’t tell her anything even if he did know but she couldn’t resist watching the fine black man squirm.

“No,” he answered. “The only thing I know is what I’ve heard on the television or read in the newspaper.”

Figures. “What do you know about a rogue vampire named Daton?”

Lucius looked surprised. “Why?”

“He’s looking for Alesandro,” Isabella replied, noting fear registering on Lucius’ handsome face.

“Is he here in New Orleans?”

Isabella nodded. “Right nasty bastard.”

Lucius gasped. “You’ve met him?”

“Yes, he’s one mean son of a bitch and he’s very stuck on himself. He kept insisting I tell him how to find Alesandro.”

Lucius shifted his weight again. “Did you tell him?”

“Hell no,” Isabella answered quickly.

He looked at her like he didn’t believe her. “Are you sure?”

“Bella didn’t tell him,” Ernie answered, defending his partner. “She took a pretty bad whipping to keep Alesandro’s secret.”

Lucius ran his eyes over her again.

“I heal fast,” Isabella told him.

“Good,” Lucius said with relief.

Was that concern for her in his eyes? “Are you going to tell us anything about him?”

“To stay the hell away from him,” Lucius replied.

Isabella signaled Ernie with her head. “We have to go. Tell Alesandro hello.”

Lucius moved aside and allowed them access to the escalator. “I will give him your message.”

Chapter Eight

The cemetery didn’t seem so opposing in the daylight. Isabella witnessed two funerals since their arrival and she had Ernie there. She didn’t know who the deceased were but felt sorry for their families. Even though she didn’t actually believe Vinnie, she looked around for signs of Baron Samedi and his assistant, Kubol who usually hung out in cemeteries, taking souls on to their final destination. So far, nothing…not even a sign of cult activity.

Isabella trembled as she felt a mystic presence spread around them.

“There are still souls here,” Ernie said to her. “Some of them have not yet crossed over.”

Isabella nodded in agreement. “Welcome to my world.”

They stopped in front of a crypt and Isabella ran her hand across the cool marble while reading the inscription. Time and erosion had erased away most of it.

“Do you think she’s in there?” Ernie asked.

“Who?”

“Marie?” he answered.

“That’s her name written on the marble, isn’t it?”

Ernie nodded. “Some people think this is her daughter’s grave, since her daughter was also named Marie Laveau.”

Isabella touched the crypt again and a warm feeling ran through her. “No it is the original. Her remains are in there.” She ran her finger across the X’s that someone had marked on the crypt. “Her followers know it’s her.” She pointed to the fresh X marks. “They still pay her homage.” Isabella walked away and Ernie followed.

“There is so much I don’t know about your religion,” Ernie said to her.

Isabella shrugged. “It’s not that complicated. It’s sort of like the Catholic religion.” Her gut instincts told her to eliminate the cult theory. Things didn’t add up.

Ernie chuckled. “I’ve never seen animals sacrificed at my church.” They walked toward the exit.

“I mean we use altars and candles like they do in the Catholic churches. Marie was raised a Roman Catholic, like most of the French and Spanish at the time. She was a devout Catholic and she attended mass every day.” Isabella paused. “Marie even got permission to hold rituals behind the Saint Louis Cathedral.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ernie said, impressed. He walked her to her car and opened the door for her.

“You need to come to church with me one night and witness one of our ceremonies.” Isabella started her car.

“Maybe,” Ernie said in a noncommittal tone. “I might take up on the invitation. Where are you headed?”

“Home to check on the place and then I think I’ll swing by to see my grandmother.”

“Give her my love,” Ernie said. He walked to his car and unlocked the door.

Isabella drove off.

* * * *

The night sky was filled with stars and an enormous moon. It didn’t look any different than any other night except instead of patrolling the streets for demons, Isabella decided to go to church and get some advice from her grandmother, Matilda.

She dressed in a long, white cotton dress with her long, dark hair covered by a white bandana. Her feet were incased in a pair of soft leather sandals. A breeze whipped at the flowing hem around her legs.

Others, dressed in similar garb, walked the well-worn path which led to their place of worship, along Bayou Saint John. Its whereabouts weren’t a secret but very few outsiders came there to visit. Isabella suspected a lot of people were afraid of what they might find.

The hype of Hollywood and the imaginations of fiction writers portrayed the voodoo religion as the practice of black magic. It was so far from the truth, as Isabella and her church of worshippers practiced the opposite. Her family had been voodoo worshippers all of their lives. Descendants of eighteenth century West African Yoruba people…the originators of the Vodun religion.

Isabella followed the others as they walked toward their peristyle…the main building of worship. The small building was far from glamorous but it served them well, providing shelter against the elements and protected them from the curious.

Isabella walked through the door and into the foyer where she stood in a short line that led into the meeting room. Two tall men, dressed from head to toe in white, guarded the door. One of them, Jason, turned at the sound of her approach.

“Your grandmother will be pleased you could join us tonight, Isabella,” he said. “It has been a long time.”

The other man, Otis, turned to acknowledge her. “Come inside, Sister, and join us.”

Both men stepped aside and allowed her to enter. Then they stepped inside pulling the doors closed behind them.

Everything was almost ready for the ceremony, Isabella noted as she walked in, gazing at the altar. There were rows and rows of long folding tables and chairs placed around the great room. The worshippers were busy getting seated as she scanned the room for her grandmother. Matilda appeared beside the altar.

Matilda Denning was nearly seventy years old, but her face was smooth and without wrinkles. Her dark hair had long since gone and was replaced by a coarse mingle-gray mixture which she always wore braided and concealed beneath a rag. Her grandmother got around without the aid of a cane or walker and her mind was still alert and sharp. She took care of Isabella since her mother was murdered by a vampire many years ago.

Isabella walked over and gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek.

“Good evening, child. Hurry, take your seat.”

“Can I talk to you before the ceremony begins?” Isabella asked.

Matilda nodded. “Is it about the murders?”

Isabella nodded quickly. “The police and the mayor think a voodoo cult is responsible.”

Matilda chuckled. “Child, you know better than that.”

Isabella lowered her head for doubting. “Yes, but I have to admit that someone is going out of their way to make it look like voodoo is involved. There were altars at the scenes and religious artifacts and a lot of dead bodies.”

“You said it yourself, someone is going out of their way to make it look like voodoo is involved. We don’t perform human sacrifices.”

“Yeah, that’s the part that’s confusing. Why would someone do this?”

Matilda shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they’re trying to blame it on us because they don’t like our religion, or maybe it’s some type of sign or a warning. I’m leaning closer to it being a warning. Someone is trying to tell the good citizens of New Orleans something.” Matilda sat down.

Isabella sat down to the right of her grandmother. Another woman, her cousin Grace, approached the table and bade them good evening. She sat to Matilda’s left. All conversation ceased.

“Crime took a night off?” Grace asked. Like most of the women in the family, Grace was very pretty and petite. Isabella unfortunately had taken after her father.

Isabella poked her tongue at her cousin. “Can’t a person come to church, brat?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it Aunty?”

Matilda nodded.

Her grandmother was very proud of both of them. Grace, the grand-daughter of Matilda’s youngest sister had grown up and gotten married. She worked as a nurse and was mother to a beautiful little girl.