The Casquette Girls (43 page)

“Sweetheart, you should really get home,” my father said. “It’s a school night, and you have midterms. I’ll ask Troy to walk you.”

“I can escort her home,” came a voice from behind me. “If that’s okay with you, Adele.”

I turned around, but I already knew from his accent that it was Nicco.

“And who are you? I’ve seen you around here with that blond guy. Quite the ladies’ man, that one.”

“Niccolò Medici, sir. And I can assure you, my brother Gabriel is harmless. He’s just been cooped up for a long time.”

My father raised an eyebrow.

“In the library,” Nicco quickly added. “Cooped up in the library. He just finished writing his dissertation.”

You’d think someone who’d been around for so long would be a better liar. The idea of Gabriel Medici sitting in the library writing a dissertation was absurd.

“Dad, Nicco and Gabe came to town looking for missing relatives, and they’ve stayed on to help with the recovery efforts. They were staying with the Palermos for a while, helping Mr. Felix clean out the shop.” I think that was all actually true.

“Well, welcome to New Orleans, son. I hope everything is all right with your family.” He poured a stiff drink and slid it across the bar to Nicco, who caught it right before it went over the edge. A little spilled over, which I was sure he did on purpose. He brought the drink to his mouth, and I could tell that he was trying not to make a face as the scent hit. He glanced at my father and then back at me, set the glass down, and slid it back to my father. “I’d better not.”

“Correct answer.”

“So this city can’t get a real food or petrol supply, but you can get shipments of liquor?”

“No, no, no. That which you just turned down is the finest Hurricane Hootch your lips will ever taste. And by the finest, I mean the only Hurricane Hootch in existence.”

“And who distills this magical moonshine?” asked Nicco.

“Yeah, Dad, who distills this magical moonshine?”

He looked at me, knowing full well that he was busted
.
“Er, an old family friend.”

I shot him a “no more secrets
”
look. He returned with a look of concession that also begged to drop the subject
.
I smiled, satisfied with our exchange, and he stepped away to help a customer.

Nicco turned to me. “You know, at one point in time it would have been insulting
not
to accept that drink. It’s strange the way humans have evolved.”

“You know, at one point in time, the general populous believed in vampires?”

“Like I said, it’s strange the way humans have evolved.”

“
Touch
é
.
”
I tried not to sound smitten. “Where did you come from, by the way? I didn’t even realize you were here.”

“I’ve been sitting in the corner, waiting for an opportune time to approach you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” a small smile flashed, “it’s a little intimidating.”

I laughed. “What could possibly be intimidating?”

“I mean, with your father and all…”

I looked at my dad, who was slinging moonshine but still watching us, and then back at Nicco. I didn’t know what to make of a vampire being intimidated by my father.

“Three-hundred-plus years later and you’re still intimidated by the fathers of girls?”

“Not the father of just
an
y
girl.”

The task of inhaling air suddenly felt very difficult. “Then let’s get out of here,” I barely squeaked, gathering my things. When we were nearly at the door, I yelled goodbye to my father, not giving him a chance to stop me.

“Be careful, and go straight home!”

* * *

Once we were out of Troy’s view, Nicco extended his elbow. “So,
bell
a
,
which way?”

I curled my palm around his arm; last night’s memories fluttered.
I mean, I’m not in danger of being drained by a malnourished child of the night if I’m out with a nourished one, right?

Never trust a vampire.

I pushed Nicco’s words away and racked my brain for a post-curfew place to go. It was too cold (and too illegal) to just wander about
. I can’t invite Nicco back home –surely he’d get the wrong ide
a
…

“Can I make a suggestion?” he said, interrupting my internal freak out.

“Sure.” Where could he know about that I didn’t? Two blocks later, he led me to the Clover Grill and pushed the door. Surprisingly, it was unlocked.

“I noticed it late last night,” he said, holding open the door. “Have you been here before?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s only an institution.”

The twenty-four-hour diner was known for its omelets, flamboyant staff, and hangover-curing patty melts. There was usually a line outside. I had never seen the place empty, but tonight it was just us, and the feeling that we were getting away with something.

Inside the old eatery, the temperature was barely warmer than outside, but the counter was lit by a row of tea lights, music was playing, and the smell of recently heated grease hung in the air. As soon as the glass door shut behind us, we were greeted with a menacing growl, and a pit bull appeared from the shadows. Nicco stepped ahead of me, but I looped in front of him and knelt down to greet the chocolate-colored canine, who in turn ran her drool-covered tongue over the line on my cheek.

“Stella, gross!” I wiped my face with my sleeve.

“Addie! Little Addie, is that you?” shrieked a voice from behind the grill. “You come over here right now and give Blanche some love!”

I scurried to the other side of the counter to embrace Blanche, who was kind of a downtown celebrity, famous for both his mammoth omelets at the Clover Grill and his drag performances a few blocks over at Lucky Cheng’s. Tonight he sported a white-ribbed tank, baggy jeans, a hair net, and false eyelashes accentuated with glitter-swept eyelids.

“Well, you look fabulous,” I said.

“Of course I look fabulous. You think imma let some little thang like a hurricane keep me from lookin’ fabulous? I don’t think so, honey!” He snapped his finger and did a full twirl. Blanche talked faster than anyone I knew, and he rivaled Ren in Oscarworthy performances.

“Wait. Stella and Blanche?” Nicco asked. “As in Blanche DuBois?”

“As in Blanche Du-whoever-I-felt-like-when-I-woke-up-this-morning, thank you very much.” He rolled his head to me. “He’s quick.”

“Nicco, this is Blanche.” I held back giggles. “Blanche, this is Nicco.”

“En-shan-tay, baby.” Blanche grabbed Nicco’s hand and raised it to his lips. “You a quick one, and you pretty too.”

Nicco’s cold blood ambushed his otherwise pale cheeks, making him look more human. My imprisoned giggles burst from their holding tanks.

“Take any seat ya like. As you can see, folks ain’t exactly beatin’ down the do’.”

I slipped into one of the red leather booths, and Nicco grabbed a candle from the counter before sliding across from me. It was almost, dare I say, romantic. Not a word I ever dreamed I’d use in reference to the Clover Grill.

“What are you doing open?” I asked Blanche as he came to take our order. “What about the curfew? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Honey, if they want me to close, then they gonna haf to come down here and drag me to the O.P.P. in cuffs. And I know that’s not gonna happen ’cause there ain’t a single pair of cuffs ta spare. They ain’t got no room in that Orleans Parish Prison to arrest a girl for makin’ omelets.” He waved a spatula in a tizzy. “But you know after that curfew hits, ain’t no one gonna come in here for the rest of the night. You know the only ones who comin’ up in here are?”

“Hmm?”

“The po-pos! So I end up jus’ fryin’ eggs for half the parish precinct. But that’s okay, honey” – his voice dropped an octave – “’cause I love a man in uniform.”

Nicco seemed a little taken aback, which made me smile, considering how much he must have seen over the last three centuries.

“Whatchou want, baby? I got omelets, and I got omelets. My egg-guy seems ta be my only guy back in bidness. Well, not my
onl
y
guy, if ya catch ma drift.” He hooted and slapped his knees. “Wahoo! It’s good ta see ya home, Addie Le Moyne. And how is your mighty hot daddy?”

“He’s fine,” I responded, cringing when I realized the word I had chosen. This time it was Nicco who couldn’t refrain from laughing. “Welcome back to New Orleans,” I said to him through blushing cheeks.

“How ’bout I jus’ bring y’all the Hurricane Special?”

“The Hurricane Special sounds perfect,” I said.

Blanche’s hip cocked as he turned to Nicco.

“When in Rome…”

“Alrighty, baby.” Blanche went back behind the counter, fired up the grill, and cranked up an old boom-box, blasting a classic Mariah Carey album. Stella came to our booth with a rumbling growl and rested on the floor. She quieted down when I petted her head, but she never took her eyes off Nicco.

“Tennessee Williams, such a tragic fellow.” Nicco’s hand brushed mine as he picked up the plastic menu on the table. My heart thumped as he looked at me. “You know he used to live not too far from here, on Toulouse Street?”

“Everyone knows that, son!” Blanche yelled from the grill without turning around.

I raised my head to peek at the boom-box and turned the volume up just enough to mask our conversation.

My attention came back to the table just in time to see Nicco finishing a silent exchange with someone on the other side of the window – just before she rushed off, her mane of bright blonde hair swinging behind her, luminous in the night. It was ultraquick, but I swear she’d given him a threatening look, which he had returned with an equally hostile expression. His demeanor changed as his eyes dropped from the window.

“What was that all about?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Who is she? The blonde?” I tried my best not to sound like a jealous lunatic. “She keeps showing up – the night of the tour, last night at the bar, and she was the one who walked past us that morning, right? Following me when I ran into you, after you had… gotten into the fight?” I paused, but then continued before he had the chance to answer. “Is she the one biting my classmates?” Anger edged through my tone. “The one killing people?”

Our eyes locked. I focused on keeping my mouth shut so he could speak.

“
S
i
,
she was the one following you. I’m not sure if she is the one killing people, but it’s likely. She’s volatile on a good day, but, in her defense, self-control would be difficult for any vampire who’d just spent three hundred years trapped in an attic.” His voice had a bit of an edge. “Being a newborn, it’s a wonder she even made it out alive. Some sort of
magic
surely aided her survival…” His voice trailed off, and I became immediately nervous by the mention of magic. “As for whether she’s the one biting your friends, who knows? All vampires bite people, Adele.”

“All? Even you?”

“What would happen to you if you stopped eating?”

“Sorry, stupid question. It’s just so hard to fathom that humans aren’t at the top of the food chain.”

“That’s because humans are arrogant.”

“And vampires aren’t?”

“
Touché
.” He smiled.

Blanche finished belting out the popular chorus, and I slowly began to lay my cards out on the table. “Earlier tonight, someone attacked me—”

“What?” he asked, leaning in. “Who? Were you hurt?” His eyes flickered.

“No, I’m fine. To be fair, it wasn’t really an attack.” I paused. “She jerked me unwillingly into an alleyway and demanded that I break a curse.”

His jaw tightened ever so slightly.

“She?”

“Yes, her face was hidden, but it was definitely a she. She was taller than me, and inhumanly strong.
Elle est français
e
,
or at least she had a heavy French accent.”

“What
exactl
y
did
she
tell you?”

“She said if I didn’t break the curse that very bad things are going to happen in the
Vieux Carré.”

He touched my fingers, trying to comfort me so I would continue.

“She sai
d
they would hurt every person I love… destroy my family.” My heart raced as he looked at me in silence. He was not happy. I had every intention of stopping there, but my tongue ran away from me. “Meaning that
your
family would destroy
m
y
family.”

His long pause warned me not to push it any further.