Ogallala

Life went on. For a while, Carissa distanced herself from me, but it was only temporary, and I found myself invited to dinner in April. She didn’t have anything in particular she wanted, she was only letting me know we were still friends.

In May, I received another invitation, the sort one doesn’t ignore. It arrived by personal delivery, a formal, hand-written invitation, and as soon as I saw it, I called Carissa.

“I need to see you,” I told her. “Today. Please.”

“Of course. Come any time. I’m at the home in town.”

“Then I’m leaving now. Half an hour.”

“The tea will be on.”

It was more like twenty minutes; I drove fast. I was expected, and one of Carissa’s humans led me through the underground warren, finally coming to a sitting room. Carissa rose and greeted me warmly, the human melting away to give us privacy.

“I might be in trouble,” I said. I handed her the invitation. Carissa nodded and gestured to a seat. We both settled, and then she deliberately opened the envelope and removed the single card.

She read it just as deliberately then slipped it back into the envelope before tapping it against her lips, studying me. “Have you responded?”

“Not yet,” I said. “Carissa, I don’t mess with voodoo queens.”

“I don’t, either. Could you have insulted her?”

“Not that I know. If I had, I would apologize. Anything I did was unintentional.”

She tapped the card against her lips for another moment before setting it on the coffee table between us. She steepled her fingers and looked over them, studying me. “You have, at times, been mine, but you are generally a free agent. You are not automatically under my protection. I do not believe living in that fashion would agree with you.”

“I am not here for your protection. I am here for your advice, and to ask if you have heard anything.”

“No.” She smiled. “Perhaps we should choose boldness.” She reached into a pocket and withdrew her phone. She held it up. I stared for a moment, then nodded.

It took her a minute to make the call. She held the phone to her ear and then said, “This is Carissa. I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I would like to speak with your madam.” She smiled at me. “I’m on hold, if you can believe it. I’m not sure whoever answered knows who I am.”

I returned the smile, weakly.

Then she sobered. “Ah, Giselle. Thank you for taking my call. Yes, it’s good to hear your voice as well. Giselle, you and I have never exactly been friends, but nor have we been enemies. I have been happy with the status quo, and I believe you have as well. Good, good. So I understand I may be poking my nose where it isn’t welcome, and if so, I deeply apologize, but I must ask a question. Has Annabelle Delacroix done something to annoy you?”

Then she paused, listening.

“Oh. Excellent. I’m so glad to hear that. I wouldn’t have asked, but Anna is a friend, and I have few friends such as her. No, no, only my advice. I’m sure you understand. Your invitation was an unexpected surprise, and she worried she had unintentionally offended you. She came wondering how to apologize, and for what. No? Excellent. I’ll tell her. Thank you, Giselle. I feel much better.” She disconnected the call, set the phone down, then looked at me.

“It is, if you can believe it, a social call.”

“Excuse me.”

“Someone wishes to meet you.”

“Wait,” I said. “She’s matchmaking?”

Carissa laughed lightly. “Apparently.”

“I think I’d rather I’d offended her!” I exclaimed. “Oh god. How do I get out of this?”

Carissa laughed again. “Anna, relax. This is a case where your reputation will do you quite well. I can’t imagine she’s expecting love to bloom. I didn’t ask for details, and even if she offered them, I wouldn’t ruin her fun by telling you. Here is my advice: accept the invitation, arrive with an open mind, and be yourself.”

“Carissa...”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Hello. Voodoo queen. Hideous, odious niece, and one love spell.”

Carissa laughed again. “You’re immune.”

“I rather doubt that.”

“You are. I know for a fact you’ve shrugged off at least three such spells and I suspect at least two others.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Quite. It’s not that you can’t love, and I can’t promise you’re immune to all voodoo rituals, but you seem to be quite immune to that one.” Then she smiled sweetly. “Now, spells of passion seem to really like you, but those never last.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Word gets around,” she said enigmatically. “People tell me things.”

“Well, what if she’s odious?”

“Anna, relax,” Carissa said. “Giselle isn’t going to do anything to annoy me. While I don’t want to destroy her, as it’s such a bother, she knows I am more than willing and able. She won’t hurt one hair on your beautiful head.”

“Didn’t you tell her I didn’t come to you for protection?”

“Yes, and I also told her you would receive it anyway. Which you knew when you called me. Anna, this is what we do for each other. We help each other, and we don’t keep score when we do so. Yes?”

“Yes,” I said. “But I hate asking.”

“I know you do.” She leaned forward and patted my hand. “You look so dashing in a tuxedo.”

I sighed and let Carissa have her fun teasing me.

* * * *

The invitation specified formal, and was for only three days hence, an intimate dinner. Giselle even sent a driver, and it wasn’t long before we pulled up in front of her home. I was surprised. I had expected a home in the Vieux Carré, the French Quarter. Instead, I found myself gazing at a lovely home in the Garden District. I climbed from the car and stepped away from the front door, wanting to see more of the house.

Well, well.

By the time I made it to the door, it was held open by a young human woman in what was clearly a maid’s uniform. She bowed her head to me and said simply, “Welcome.”

“I am Annabelle Delacroix,” I said. “Madam Giselle is expecting me.”

“Of course, Ms. Delacroix,” she responded. “Madam is waiting in the parlor.”

I followed the woman for a short walk through the house. It wasn’t quite a mansion, not by New Orleans standards, but it was far nicer than my home. I looked around and wondered if I should upscale.

But then we arrived at a double door. The maid knocked, paused, and then opened the doors for me. “Ms. Delacroix,” she announced.

I stepped past her and into the room, coming to a stop.

The room was typical New Orleans, stylishly ornamented and apportioned, although all of the furniture was more to human standards than someone of my size.

Seated in a chair near the fireplace was another human, female, Caucasian, of perhaps fifty years. Her blond hair was long, reaching past her shoulders, and her features sharp. She was dressed in a lovely, green gown, and when she turned to look at me, she smiled.

Never in a million years, looking at her, would I have guessed this was one of the city’s leading voodoo queens.

“Madam Giselle?”

“Ms. Delacroix,” she said, rising to her feet. “Welcome.” She held out a delicate hand, and I crossed the room to clasp briefly. “Thank you for coming.” She gestured to my own chair, and we sat, both of us partly facing each other, partly facing the fire, with a small table between us, sheltered from the heat by our two chairs. Upon the table were two glasses of white wine. Giselle picked one up and handed it to me. She tipped her glass towards me and sipped, and I did the same with mine.

Then she carefully set aside her glass, and I mirrored her.

“I must apologize,” she said. “I really didn’t think how my invitation could be received.”

“I was sure I had done something to insult you, but for the life of me, I couldn’t imagine what.”

“Not at all, Anna. You don’t mind if I call you Anna, do you? And you may call me Giselle. We can save that madam stuff for the tourists.” I inclined my head. “We’ve met. Did you know?”

“I’m sorry,” I replied.

“Well. I believe you cut a more memorable figure than I do, and you might only remember me if I had dressed for my role. It was, oh, perhaps four years ago. There was an event.”

“At a gallery,” I said. “Some artist. I don’t remember whom.”

“Vincent St. Dominick,” she said. She leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially. “I had heard such things of his work, but I wasn’t moved to purchase a single piece.”

“I did not chose to become a patron, either,” I said. “We stumbled into each other in front of that sculpture.”

“It was ghastly,” she said. “I couldn’t figure out what it was.”

“I believe we discussed it. You thought it was a swan, recently disgorged from a meat grinder.”

“And you were sure it had been the wings of Icarus.”

“The after picture,” I added. “There were all those feathers.”

“We agreed they were feathers,” she said. “But, Dear Anna, we did not stumble into each other. You would not believe what I went through to capture you alone for those few minutes.”

“Did you?” I said. “You need have only asked.”

“But that would have been obvious, My Dear.”

“But why?”

“I recognized you. Well, I recognized what you were and thought I knew who you were. So I asked, and then I wanted to meet you.”

“I’m sorry. We didn’t even exchange names.”

“I didn’t intend to be recognized myself,” she said. “The cats keep to themselves.”

“We do,” I agreed.

She paused, then picked up her wine and sipped again. I watched, studying her. She really was quite unassuming. Most of the voodoo queens in New Orleans were black, often from Haiti or Senegal, but it was not unknown for a white woman to study the arts. Still, I wouldn’t have guessed Giselle as anything but a rich socialite.

Giselle watched me, sipping from her wine, and I waited to see what she wanted. Finally she set it back down again. “I want to assure you, you are safe in my home. I do not engage in the petty games of some of my sisters. One has to work to earn my wrath. Carissa’s warning wasn’t necessary.”

“I went to her for advice, wondering how I could have slighted you.”

“I understand. I’m sorry. But I didn’t know how to phrase an invitation that said, I want to introduce you to my cousin.”

I smiled, but nervously.

“Relax, Anna,” Giselle said. “She’s never met any of the weres. She’s visiting from Nebraska, of all places. And we’re not talking Omaha, either. Ogallala.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“No one has ever heard of it,” she replied with a smile.

“I’m sure it’s a very nice place.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Giselle agreed. “I have never been.” She leaned forward again, this time capturing my hand. “This is only dinner. Conversation. That is all. We are four. The two of us, and my two cousins.”

“Ah, so I am meeting not only one cousin, but two.”

“Yes, but you will know which one I wish you to charm.”

“How is that?”

“Look for the hayseed in her hair.”

I stared for a moment. She said it with a straight face and then waited for my reaction. “Giselle,” I finally said, “That is unkind.”

“Anna, she is very sweet, very lovely, and very, very naïve. She asked to meet a werewolf, but I suggested I could do far, far better than that. She has no idea you’re going to be here tonight. We’ll join them shortly. Drinks. Conversation. Dinner. Perhaps a little more conversation.”

“That’s all?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Ah,” I said. “Perhaps not, hmm?”

“If you like her, and if she likes you, perhaps you could offer to show her the city. Charm her.”

“And her sister.”

“Not her sister,” she said. “Her aunt, my first cousin. Technically, the woman I wish you to meet is my first cousin once removed. It is quite convoluted.”

“I think I understand.”

“You won’t like the aunt, but I have business with her, and I wouldn’t mind if my lovely, sweet, and naïve younger cousin were happily occupied during her stay. But if the two of you don’t hit it off, then she’ll have met her were, and I’ll find other distractions for her. There is no obligation, Anna. I am pleased that you could come this evening, and even more pleased to see you looking so dashing.”

“Carissa’s recommendation,” I said, glancing down at my tux for a moment. “You understand dress makers have a hard time designing dresses for me.”

“A pity. You would look amazing in the right gown.”

“And so quickly you decide you don’t care for the tux?”

She smiled again. “I love the tux.”

“So. Charm her. Perhaps distract her for a few days.”

“Ten.”

“Ah.”

“And one more thing,” Giselle said. “Whatever happens, she’s going back to Nebraska. She’d be eaten alive in New Orleans.”

“Am I responsible for her safety?”

“Only from petty criminals,” she replied. “I’m sure you can handle that.”

“Yes,” I said. “I believe I can.” I picked up my wine and sipped, watching her over the rim, wondering when the shoe would drop. Giselle smiled and mirrored me, saying nothing. But nor did she recommend we meet her cousins or suggest another topic. Which meant this topic wasn’t resolved.

“Why me?”

She smiled again. “Several reasons, and in no particular order. You have a certain reputation.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em?”

“Yes, but no one ever feels used, Anna. They speak fondly of you.” I inclined my head. “Next, a female were, and one who is traveled at that. Third, a lesbian female were, but one who knows how to be gentle, even with a human. And all that makes you virtually unique in all of New Orleans.” Then she laughed. “And I liked you, and I think you were right about that horrible sculpture. It wasn’t a swan at all.”

“I’m not sure it was the wings of Icarus, either.”

“Perhaps not, but you made me laugh. And I thought you could handle me, and show well here.” She gestured. She smiled. “Remember. She’s going back to Nebraska. If she makes even a hint of staying, you must notify me immediately, even if it’s only in passing.”

“Of course,” I said. “But Giselle, you are asking me to become friends with her, but then to possibly violate her trust.”

“Not at all. I am asking you to help me protect her. You’ll understand shortly.”

“Of course,” I said again.

“Well then. I believe we will find my cousins in the library.” We stood together, and I followed her from the room.

* * * *

Giselle led me into the library, a short walk from the parlor. There were two women, already seated, talking as we entered, but they broke off their conversation as the door opened. As we stepped in, they both stood up, and immediately both pair of eyes flashed past the voodoo queen to the tall jaguar standing behind her.

“Our last guest has arrived,” Giselle announced with a small gesture to me. She stepped forward, closing half the distance, and the other two women moved around the seating arrangement to meet us halfway. Like Giselle, they were in gowns, although the older woman’s was far finer than the younger’s.

And that was the only thing finer about the older cousin, I would learn, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Annabelle Delacroix,” Giselle said formally. “My cousin, Pandora Givens.”

The older cousin held out her hand. I took it and smiled. “I am pleased to meet you, Ms. Givens.”

“So formal,” she replied in a mid-western accent. “Call me Pandora.”

“I am Anna,” I said.

“And this is another cousin,” said Giselle. “Paisley Haines.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Paisley,” I said, holding out my hand.

For her part, Paisley stood there, staring up at me. “You’re a- You’re a- You’re a-“ Her aunt nudged her, and instead of finishing the sentence, she shut up.

“You can say it,” I said. “What am I?”

“Werewolf,” she whispered.

“Of course not,” I said. I smiled and leaned closer. I knew she would find that a little intimidating, but to my surprise, she didn’t pull back. “Female werewolves are rarely my size.”

She glanced at Giselle then back at me. “Then-“ She gulped. “What are you? Don’t even try to tell me you’re human.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I find some people like to be told. Others like hints. Which would you like?”

“Hints?” she asked.

“Well then. What is the apex hunter of South America?”

“Crocodile?”

“My natural cousins dine on crocodiles. Think four legs, very large, and black fur.”

“Pa-pa-panther?”

“There you go,” I said. “Jaguar, to be clear.”

“I-“ she said. “I-“. She broke off and looked at Giselle for a moment. Then she held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Annabelle Delacroix. You have the most amazing voice.”

“Thank you, Paisley,” I replied. I used our clasped hands to pull her forward, between her aunt and cousin, then turned her so she was at my side, my steadying hand now on her shoulder, my other still clasping hers. “You’re from Nebraska?”

She shook out her hair. “Can you see the hayseed?”

So it wasn’t only Giselle who said that. Well.

“I’m not sure. Turn around and let me look.” And then I turned her away from me, stepped up close behind her, and then began to look through her hair. I kept one hand on her shoulder, my fingers finding bare skin to touch, and my other hand caressed her neck a few times.

And she stood there, letting me do it. If either Pandora or Giselle was shocked, I didn’t know. But Paisley let me look through her hair like that for a good ten seconds before she turned around, her eyes flashing. “I can’t believe you were just looking for hayseeds! Maybe you should turn around and I should inspect for ticks and fleas.”

“We all know I wasn’t looking for hayseeds. You are dressed in far too fine a fashion for me to have found any.”

“You!” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Then what were you doing?”

“Stroking your lovely hair.” I offered a small bow. “My apologies. I can be quite the cad. But I just couldn’t resist. Please turn around so I may do it some more.”

She stared up at me then asked in a small voice, “You weren’t really.”

“Of course I was,” I said. “Does it smell as wonderful as it feels?” I reached for her, leaning as if to get in a good sniff.

But she backed away from me quickly and pointed a finger at me. “Stop that! You’re terrible.”

I grinned. “I know. But you’re not frightened of me anymore, are you?”

She froze, and her finger slowly dropped. When I stepped forward and took her hand, she let me. I drew her forward again, and we faced Giselle and Pandora. “I believe, Giselle, that I am a lucky woman tonight, surrounded by such charm and beauty.”

Giselle smiled. “Shall we sit? We have a little time before dinner.” She gestured, and then she and Pandora led the way, taking the two easy chairs and leaving the sofa to Paisley and me. I gestured Paisley ahead of me, letting her pick a seat, and then instead of taking the opposite end, I took the center of the sofa and rotated partway to face her.

“Well,” said Giselle. “Anna, would you tell us about yourself?”

* * * *

I really did have a nice time. Giselle, of course, had all the charm one would expect from a southern woman of substance. Paisley was every bit as sweet as her cousin had suggested, and carried her own charm besides. Oh, it wasn’t a sophisticated charm, and manners are often regional, but I thought she did justice to her cousin’s home.

And then there was dear Aunt Pandora. It would be a mistake to say Pandora was crass; she wasn’t. But she was all sharp edges and nasal voice. And she didn’t seem to be at all amused by me, although both Giselle and Paisley laughed frequently with me.

We were halfway through the meal, still getting to know each other, when I found the opportunity to ask, “Do you come to New Orleans often, Pandora?”

“Not often,” she said without even looking up at me. “This is my first trip since before Katrina.”

“And you, Paisley? What do you think of our city?”

“This is my first visit,” she said. “We arrived late yesterday, and we haven’t gone anywhere yet. There’s so much I want to see, but Giselle was busy today. She said maybe we can go on a little walkabout tomorrow. I want to see the French Square and Jackson Quarter.”

Pandora snorted, then grabbed her water glass. But I wondered how well she knew the neighborhoods of Boston or San Francisco.

“Ah, it is your first visit,” I said with a smile. I turned to Giselle. “Perhaps you would trust me to escort your cousin.” I didn’t wait for a response but turned back to Paisley. “But you must speak like a proper visitor to New Orleans.” I pronounced it as “Nawlins”. “It is the French Quarter.”

She blushed and lowered her gaze, but her aunt received a dirty look, justified in my view.

“Of course,” Paisley said. “The French Quarter and Jackson Square. I misspoke. Now you must truly believe if you look further, you’ll find those hayseeds.”

“Not at all, Paisley, but if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind looking.”

She pointed a finger at me again. “I’m onto you, Annabelle Delacroix.”

“Are you? And why do you seem to delight in using my full name?”

“Because it’s just such a great name.” Then she said it very slowly, savoring each syllable. “Annabelle Delacroix. There’s no one in Ogallala with a name like that.” She paused. “I just can’t believe I’m sitting at dinner with a were jaguar. When Giselle asked what I wanted to do, I asked her if she kept any zombies, but she said no. So then I asked if she knew any werewolves. But you’re a lot better than a werewolf.”

I buffed my fingernails against my jacket. “I know,” I said in a low, husky voice.

“I didn’t mean that!” Paisley said.

“You didn’t mean what?” I asked. “Werewolves are loud and crass and rarely half as charming as I am. Plus I fill a tuxedo far better.”

“And you’re twice as vain.”

“Also true,” I agreed. “You are very perceptive. So, you mentioned zombies.”

“I’m sure you know who Giselle is.”

“Of course,” I said. “Who is she?”

Paisley stared at me, and then a look of horror crossed her face, and she turned to Giselle. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Pandora snorted again. “She’s messing with you, Paisley.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you suggest, Pandora,” I said in denial. “Giselle is one of the ladies of New Orleans society. I am unsure why Paisley mentioned zombies. Will you explain?”

Giselle smirked at me then turned her gaze to Paisley, smoothing her features. “Yes, Cousin. Do tell.”

Paisley squirmed in her seat. Then she settled. “You’re both teasing me now.”

“Paisley, I know who your cousin is, but there seems to be some confusion, so why don’t you tell me.”

She looked at me. She looked at her cousin. She looked at me and said, “Fine. Giselle is Madam Giselle, the voodoo queen of New Orleans.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said immediately.

“Of course she is! I think I would know if my own cousin, even a second cousin, is the voodoo queen. And who are you to talk, were-kitten.”

I leaned a little closer. “I’m a 400-pound were-kitten,” I said with a smile.

“Jaguars aren’t half that big!”

“Natural jaguars aren’t. I am somewhat larger than a natural jaguar. But we weren’t talking about me. We were talking about Madam Giselle.”

“Ah, ah! You admit she’s Madam Giselle.”

“I am only repeating the title you used,” I said. “Giselle is hardly the voodoo queen of New Orleans, and I might suggest she wouldn’t dare call herself that.”

“Of course she does,” Paisley said. “Don’t you, Giselle?”

“I’m sorry, Paisley,” Giselle said. “But technically, Anna is right.”

“Technically?”

“Technically.”

“But you are the voodoo queen.”

“Almost,” Giselle said.

“Almost. You’re almost the queen?”

“Oh, no. I’m definitely a queen. But I’m not the only one. I’m a voodoo queen of New Orleans. I wouldn’t dare refer to myself as the voodoo queen. That would attract no end of unwelcome attention.”

Paisley glared at her cousin, then at me, then at her cousin, then back at me. “You were giving me shit over semantics?”

“Actually,” I said. “I was keeping you alive.”

“What? I can take care of myself.”

“The supernatural powers in New Orleans can be quite jealous of those powers,” I said. “One must be properly respectful. There are at least six voodoo queens.”

“Seven,” Giselle said. “And two posers.”

“And those six others would not be pleased if they thought your cousin was setting herself up over them. Furthermore, I do not believe The Queen of New Orleans would be happy to hear she had a rival, either.”

“Wait. What?”

I smiled. “When one lives in the territory of one of the most powerful vampires in all of North America, one offers due respect, don’t you think? And when she styles herself as The Queen of New Orleans, everyone else should be very careful to avoid a similar title. One can be a voodoo queen, but not the voodoo queen. Do you see?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “But this started with an offer to show you the city. Perhaps you will decline, afraid of more teasing.”

She straightened in her chair. “I admit: you’re a master teaser. But if you’re not careful, I’ll turn you into a toad for a day.” She set a hand on her hip. “What do you think of that?”

“I was not aware that turning jaguars into toads was possible under voodoo.”

“Who said anything about voodoo?” she asked. “Pandora and I are witches.”

“Witches,” I said, looking at Giselle. “I am somewhat surprised a detail like that didn’t come out somewhat earlier in the conversation.”

“Oh,” said Giselle. “Didn’t I mention that? It must have been lost while you were looking for hayseeds earlier.”

“Perhaps it was,” I agreed. I smiled and turned back to Paisley. “So. French Quarter. Jackson Square. Beignets. Zydeco. Teasing. A little croaking. What do you say?”

“Croaking?”

“You did threaten to turn me into a frog,” I reminded her.

“I can’t turn you into a frog.”

“I know.”

“But I can give you a rash.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Will you stop teasing me if I promise I won’t give you a rash?”

“Probably not,” I said. “But you could let me play with your hair. That might distract me from teasing you.”

She stared and then said, “I can’t even tell if you’re serious.”

“I never kid about beignets.”

“I didn’t mean that,” she said with a huff.

I reached over and took her hand. She let me. “I know what you meant,” I said gently. “I’m sorry if my teasing is too intense.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I just don’t know what you really want.”

“Ah, well that’s easy. I want to take a lovely woman on a tour of my home. I want to show her the things the tourists come to see, but I also want to show her the things tourists don’t know exist. I want to take you to my favorite place for dinner, and then my next favorite place for dancing. Maybe you’ll dance with me, or maybe you won’t. But we’ll have a very nice time. If you really want, I can stop teasing, but I’m not sure you really want me to stop.”

Then I waited.

“Dancing sounds lovely, and I’ve never had a beignet.”

“Well then. It seems we have a plan, or most of one. We must only resolve whether you will allow me to stroke your hair, and if I must stop teasing.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of stopping.”

“I am capable of a great deal, Paisley,” I said.

She stared into my eyes for a minute. No one said a word. But then she turned to her cousin. “You paid her to distract me.”

“I did no such thing,” Giselle said immediately.

I dropped Paisley’s hand and asked, “Do you think I can be bought cheaply?”

She turned back to me. “She offered you something.”

“You think so little of yourself? Your cousin told me you were sweet and lovely and that she didn’t know how she was going to find the time to properly entertain you. I find she is right. You are sweet and lovely, and I believe I would enjoy your company. I also believe you enjoy mine, in spite of your protestations, but I could be full of more swagger than charm.”

“Oh, you’re full of charm,” she said. “Too much charm.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Your cousin invited me for dinner.” I gestured. “This meal is the only compensation she offered to meet you.”

“She owes you a favor, then.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You’re too perfect,” she said. “Look at you. Girls must swoon at your feet! And look at me. No one has ever swooned for me.”

“Ah. Perhaps that is simply because the girls in Nebraska are not so delicate of constitution as to swoon. And I, of course, am a were jaguar. We never swoon.” I paused. “Paisley, I would enjoy escorting you about New Orleans during your visit. Would you like to join me?”

“Of course I’d like to join you. But admit she’s paying you.”

“All right. Giselle is paying me.” I turned to her. “You promised drinks, a fine meal, and perhaps conversation over an aperitif. If she says ‘yes’, you still owe me the rest of the conversation and that aperitif.”

Giselle said nothing, and after a pause, Paisley said in a muted tone, “She’s not paying you.”

“Nope. But now you owe me.”

“I don’t owe you a thing.”

“You certainly do. You were quite insulting, and so in compensation you must let me tease you and stroke your hair.” I turned to Giselle and smiled sweetly.

“Perhaps we could retire to the parlor,” said our host.

* * * *

That was Paisley’s last night she spent in her cousin’s home, at least during that visit. She spent the rest of her nights in mine.

She was sweet, and lovely, and very gentle. She cried out quietly when she came, and then clutched me tightly afterwards. And she was small and delicate, and I loved holding her as we slept.

And then I dropped her off at the airport so she could return home to Nebraska.