Villere House (Blood of My Blood) (14 page)

It was then that she saw it. Dangling from the headboard was a pair of chicken feet. And there was another pair above the footboard, and a pair on the bathroom door…

"It is a little gruesome," Xavier said directly into her ear.

She jumped in spite of herself. He was standing
right
behind her.

"They're supposed to be for protection, though. You know, against evil spirits."

"I do know. Laurent hung a pair over Amélie's bed." She turned to him, surprised by how incredibly close he was. "You did all this?"

"Yeah, well, I tend to overdo it sometimes. I just thought it couldn't hurt, right?"

"No, it's nice. And I did sleep well. Too well, maybe."

He laughed. "How do you sleep too well?"

"No dreams," she replied sadly. "Every time I've gone to sleep I've dreamt of them. The story picks right up, really."

"But not last night?"

She shook her head. "Unfortunately, no."

"Maybe our ghosts were worn out. That
was
a rather intense memory." His eyebrows bobbed.

"How can you joke about such a thing? This is serious!" At least, she
thought
it was serious.

"It isn't often I share a sex dream with another person. How can one not joke about it?"

"I'm not even sure it was the same dream anymore," she said haughtily. When she realized her hands were on her hips in classic "bitch-wing" pose, she quickly dropped them.
That
was a level of immaturity she wasn't willing to cross.

"I'd be happy to reenact it with you."

"No!" But the thought made her cheeks—and other parts—warm considerably.

"For someone who wanted to convince me so badly last night she decided to tease me with a kiss, you sure are being resistant."

"That was last night."

"Well, at least let me describe it for. So you're convinced and all. Let's see, there was the make-out session in the dining room, then Laurent carried her up the stairs to the
boudoir
—"

"Okay! Yes, it's the same dream." She was pretty sure he chuckled, but chose to ignore it. Her chest was suddenly burning hot, and she rubbed a hand over it, stopping when she felt something hard.

It was a pendant. Actually, two pendants, hanging from a single silver chain. She looked down at a necklace she wasn't wearing last night. One medallion was blue and white and turquoise and looked an awful lot like an eye. The other was brass, and inscribed with a hieroglyph-like symbol. "What is this?"

"Oh, I put that on you. More protection. The top one is the vévé for Papa Damballah. It's one of Voodoo spirits, supposed to offer protection. And the other one is a Turkish evil eye. It's actually more for jealously, but you never know, we
could
have a jealous ghost on our hands."

She could no longer be mad. "Thank you."

"Now, you sure you don't want to reenact that dream. Just to make sure…"

Obviously he was messing with her. She gave him a hard look. He just grinned.

"I can't believe you're so nonchalant about all this."

He gestured toward the multitude of chicken feet hanging in the room. "Does this look nonchalant to you?"

"I mean about…what we experienced…together."

"Right." He seemed to chew on it for a moment, all the while taking her in. "You know I could really use some coffee. Wanna talk about it over a cup?"

"That sounds great. Just let me freshen up."

"Oh, I have your clothes." He dashed out of the room and returned carrying her tank and shorts in a crumpled heap. "I, um, didn't fold them or anything."

She laughed, taking the clothing from him. "That's perfectly fine. Thanks for washing them."

She noticed the chicken feet the moment she closed the bathroom door. "You hung feet from the shower too?" she called through the solid wood.

"Yeah. Didn't you have a problem in there?"

"I did." It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud.

She quickly peed, brushed her teeth using the smallest amount of water possible, dressed, and met Xavier, courteously waiting in the sitting room and watching TV. He was constantly surprising her.

Clicking off the TV, he rose.

She handed him back his T-shirt and athletic shorts. He glanced at the neatly folded bundle. "You trying to show me up or something?"

"Folding clothes is a habit. Two or three foster moms ago," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

He set the clothes on the couch. "Let's go. My head's about to explode from lack of caffeine."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A
t a nearby coffee shop, they settled into a table tucked into a quiet corner, well away from other patrons. Xavier left briefly to order and returned with a tray filled with pastries and two oversized cups of coffee.

"I'm starving too," he explained as he unloaded the tray. After returning the tray to the bussing station, he sat down, took a big swig of coffee and then said, "So, back to that dream."

"You just jump right in, don't you?"

He shrugged. "Since you won't reenact it with me…"

She shook her head. "That. I seriously don't understand how you can be so chill."

"It wasn't like it was actually you and I in there. We relived an experience of our grandparents that happened hundreds of years ago. Which I admit is kinda creepy, but nothing to get worked up over."

"Yeah, but it wasn't like watching a movie. In these dreams I am Élise. I experience everything she does from her point of view. Everything."

"I get it. I saw things from my grandfather's eyes as well."

"Doesn't that make it more…intense?"

"Sure. But I'm not him and you aren't Élise and it was still a memory."

"A very real memory."

"And a good one." He shrugged. "Besides, it wasn't even my style."

"You mean you don't make love like your grandfather."

The statement didn't even make him flinch. As weird a concept as it was. "Not at all."

"That's too bad."

His mouth fish-gaped for a moment before he seemed to recover from the shock of her retort. "Hey, I'm not saying both parties weren't satisfied…"

"An understatement."

"…I'm just saying I have my own style and set of skills."

"Ah," she murmured dismissively.

"You know you're just challenging me to prove it to you."

"Meh," she replied as blasé as possible while trying not to overheat at the thought. She quickly turned her attention to stuffing a large hunk of croissant into her mouth.

She could see in his eyes that he did, indeed, take it as a challenge. The thought made her swallow, and not just because of the croissant.

It was time to change the subject. "So what I don't get from all this, is why? Why has Élise been showing me this sliver of her life? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's been a beautiful story, but there has to be a reason."

"Maybe she wanted to bring us together."

Lottie could feel her face scrunch up in confusion.

"I take it you don't like that explanation? What if one of our kids is destined to cure some horrible, deadly disease."

Great. So first, he didn't believe her about the ghosts and now he was teasing her about them.

She couldn't worry about it. She didn't have the energy to worry about it. He was here. He was still supporting her and at least now he believed her.

"It's got to be more than that. There has to be more. She didn't go to all this effort for nothing. I need to back to sleep. I need to figure out the rest of the story."

"You don't look very tired to me."

"I'm not. I'm wide-awake. Maybe if you knock me out…" She was only half joking.

"We can get wasted. A few hours of early morning partying always means an afternoon nap for me."

"That'd take too long. I still have one more of Amanda's pills."

"I really don't think you should take any more of those pills."

"Your concern is appreciated but I'm a big girl. I've barely taken any. Amanda pops these all the time, while drinking, while smoking…" she drifted off, her brain suddenly reminding her of something important, something she really needed to do.

"Oh my God, what time is it?"

He checked his phone. "Ten-thirty."

She jumped out of her chair, her coffee cup precariously teetering back and forth in its saucer. "Oh no."

"What's wrong?"

"My flight leaves in two hours. I can't go home. Not yet."

"Then don't. Stay."

"What?"

His smile was hard to miss. He seemed almost delighted, relieved even.

"Change your flight. Stay. Stay with me…at the Guest House, of course."

"I don't know if I can."

"Why not? Wait...if you need help with the finances, I'll be more than happy—"

"No!" she blurted the word.

Shit. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, but money had never been an issue. The pay out from her parents' life insurance policy had her well taken care of for the rest of her life. Which was good, because her chosen field of social work—specifically working within the foster care system—wasn't exactly lucrative.

She took a breath and exhaled, sitting back down.

"No, thank you, I can cover it. It's just…"

"It's just, what? You stayed there last night. So you stay a few more days."

"I know, but what am I supposed to tell them?" It was weird that she couldn't imagine telling her friends about the crazy things that had been happening to her, yet she'd been compelled to tell Xavier barely twenty-four hours after meeting him.

"Make something up. Tell them you're not finished seeing the city."

"It's lame at best, but I guess it's not entirely a lie." She ran both hands through her hair and tried to convince herself.

What was she suddenly so afraid of? Wasn't this what she wanted? To stay. To solve the mystery. Why the hesitation? Everything she wanted was here, including the man before her.

Oh, maybe that's what it was.

Xavier's expression became hard. He must've noticed her hesitation had everything to do with him. "I don't know why you're balking now. You didn't see them all day yesterday or last night, and I haven't seen you check your messages or call or text them once."

Busted.

"I know. It just feels strange letting them leave without me. And I barely know you…"

"Seriously? That's your excuse? We're not shacking up, Lottie. I'm doing you a favor. And believe it or not, this now involves me and I'd like to get to the bottom of it, too."

Wow, he was angry. She could read it in his eyes, hear it in his tone. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Kiss his anger away. Maybe she could taste some of that passion from the night before.

But what if she did? Was that what she was scared of?

God, she was so confused. Confused about her past, confused about Xavier, anxious to get back to Élise, worried about what she was going to discover, afraid she actually might not dream again, frightened of whatever entity was trying to hurt her.

She rubbed her eyes wearily. "I'm sorry. You've done so much for me and I do appreciate it. This is just all so crazy and I'm a freaking mess. I feel like I'm being tossed between three different worlds and I can barely tell if I'm coming or going."

Her gaze dropped to the table where it stayed, focused on the half eaten croissant, noting how the flaky crust glistened with butter. It didn't even look good any more as her appetite had completely abandoned her.

"Hey." He bent down to peer at her. "Just stay, okay? We'll get this figured out. I want to help you, Lottie. I need to help you. And I want—" He paused and then visibly swallowed. "Hopefully we'll get this figured out soon and you can head home."

She was pretty sure that wasn't what he was originally going to say but let it go. "Sure," she said, nodding. "Thank you."

Her lips pursed tightly together, she kept nodding, like she was reminding herself she was indeed staying. "Yeah, this will be good. I just gotta get my luggage, and...yeah."

He rose. "Great. Let's go."

She hesitated. "Xavier, this is probably something I should handle by myself."

"I'm not going to let you jump into that tank of sharks alone," he scoffed.

His comment caught her off guard. "What do you mean, 'let me'?"

"I'm not going to abandon you."

Her eyebrows bunched together. How was he possibly abandoning her…

"I'll be fine. Really. I just need to be alone for a minute. Figure out what I'm going to tell them. I'll meet you back at the house."

"Who is going to carry your suitcase?"

"I managed to carry my suitcase to the hotel without your help. I'm pretty sure I can manage now." It came out snottier than she intended.

"No way. I let you walk out of the bar the other night with your drunk-ass friend and I about had a nervous breakdown worrying about you. Not going to happen again."

There was that word again, "let".

The air in the room was suddenly very hot, stifling-hot, like she was swimming-in-lava-hot. Her chest squeezed tight and her lungs were doing their best impression of deflated balloons.

It was too much. It was all too much. She needed time to think about…everything. Having him there would just distract her. And the last thing she needed was him bossing her around.

She rose and headed for the door. "I gotta get out of here."

"Lottie, wait…"

Ignoring him, she yanked open the door, quickly shutting it—and him—behind her.

Anxious to put as much distance between herself and the café, she flew down the sidewalk with a quicker than usual stride, even jumping into the street when she needed to get around a slow moving tourist group blocking her way.

Xavier. Damnit, why did he have to be so infuriating? Maybe he meant well and all, but Jesus, it was overwhelming. Hardly anyone had given two shits about her well-being for years. For him to run in on his white horse…it was damn near suffocating.

Especially now. Especially with all the other shit going on. Especially when he decided to give her
permission.

She sure as hell didn't need it and hadn't asked for it. In fact, she hadn't asked for any of this. Didn't want it. Maybe she should just go to the airport with her friends and take the flight home.

The hotel was inches away by the time she realized she was even close. Pausing, she slammed her hand into her purse, quickly locating the key-card to her room before continuing at her brisk pace.

It seemed like ages since she'd arrived four days ago. She'd felt like an entirely different person then, with few worries other than trying to have a good time, and making sure Sam and Amanda didn't have too much fun and wind up in a ditch.

And now, she was unbelievably being haunted by the great grandmother she never knew she had and something far more sinister. She couldn't deny she wanted answers, craved them actually. But at what cost? How bad would it be if she just walked away and left all of this all behind? All of it. New Orleans, Élise, the apparent curse, the Villeres—each and every one of them.

The thought punched a hole in her gut. She shoved it aside as she pushed the key-card in the slot. The green light came on at the same moment she turned the lever and started to open the door, only to promptly shut it.

There was no way she was prepared to face them. First, she needed to pull her shit together. If she went in there in her current state, they'd rip her to shreds. What had Xavier called them, "sharks"? It was appropriate.

Taking a few moments to roll the tension out of her shoulders, she mentally prepared her lie. She'd use the excuse suggested by Xavier. It was plausible. Unlikely but plausible.

Lining the card with the lock and pushing it forward, she put on her game face and whispered, "Here goes nothing."

"Hey!" she said nonchalantly when she stepped into the common room of their suite. Music blared and both girls had Daiquiris in hand. Their heads jerked up.

Amanda jumped to her feet. Sam promptly returned her attention to her phone.

"Where the hell have you been?" Even with the auto-tuned voice of the top-forty singer belting it out in the background, Amanda's voice sounded shrill. "I've been texting the shit out of you. Our flight leaves in like, barely an hour. We were about ready to leave without you."

Lottie offered a laissez-faire smile. "Yeah…you guys go ahead. I canceled my flight. I'm staying here for a more few days."

"You what!"

That was so high-pitched, Lottie cringed.

"Why?"

A sarcastic grunt came from Sam, who never took her eyes off her phone.

She ignored it. "You know," she said lightly. "I'm really enjoying New Orleans and would like to see more of the city."

Another snort came from Sam. "I think Lottie has a boyfriend," she said.

Lottie resisted the urge to hurl her purse at her.

Amanda looked at Sam and back to Lottie again. "Wait a minute! Are you staying because of that Voodoo guy? What was his name…?"

"Xavier Villere," Sam quickly shot off.

"No. I'm not staying because of him. I told you, I just want to check out more of the city. The history of this place fascinates me," which, of course, wasn't a lie, "and I was told I should visit Oak Alley, an old antebellum sugar plantation."