Jake walked down Magazine Street and watched the blur of activities. Halloween was still six days away and it was a Wednesday night, but the city was in full party mode. Some just walked the streets—locals who were weary of Halloween starting early, visitors totally into the mood, and those who were local and just loved Halloween.
People did love Halloween. It was early and he already saw couples with children dressed as ninjas, Star Wars characters, and more.
There were a few mummies and ghouls and the like walking the streets—one in particular delighted a number of children, stopping to make a howling noise, and then pretending to cry when they jumped back. People laughed. It was all in good fun.
He was surprised when the ghoul walked up to him. “Jake? Jake Mallory?”
Jake stared at the creature.
“Football, man. It’s Sammy Riley. We played together in high school—I was one of your linebackers.”
“Hey. How are you, Sammy?”
“Good. Having a little fun with the kids. I’m doing a party tonight—Swamp Creatures. What are you doing here? Someone told me that you’re a Fed now.”
“I am, and you?”
“I’m a contractor—and a scare actor at Halloween. Love it—I have so much fun.”
“I saw that. Great.”
“You should come to the party.”
“Don’t have an invite or a ticket.”
“You don’t need one. It’s put on by a group of artists and musicians and even writers in the city. A really cool rich dude who got a bunch of movies made from his stuff—on the science fiction channels—pays the groundwork and the venue. No open bar, but you should come. It’s in a warehouse between the CBD and the Irish Channel.”
“Sounds good, but I’m meeting up with my fiancée, Ashley.”
“Bring her. Oh, my God, of course, Ashley. Ashley Donegal.”
“Yes, that’s her. We were really just going to have dinner.”
“I guess Donegal Plantation is crazy enough. Still, man… We’re having all kinds of cool stuff. And these people really get into it. Vampires, werewolves, aliens, witches, you name it.” He broke off, his eyes going wide. “Have you seen the news? Maybe there won’t be any witches. I mean, people won’t want a witch association right now, huh? Oh, hey, man, are you here because of the news?”
“I know about it,” Jake said. “And, naturally, it’s a crime, and I am a Fed…”
“Maybe you should come. What if there are witches there?” Sammy asked. He looked different with white makeup enhanced by shades of red and black covering his face and bandages wrapped around his body.
“No costumes, I’m afraid,” Jake said.
“There’s a place just down the block that rents them,” Sammy told him.
“Well, maybe later. We’re going to have dinner at Antoine’s. Then, we’ll see. We just show up?”
“Get to the door and use my name. They’ll bring you right in. Do come. It’s great to see you. It’s been too long.”
“Great to see you, too.”
Sammy started to walk on, but then he hesitated. “How long you been here? I mean, did you know about the witches? Do the Feds come in when it has to do with kidnapping, state lines, and witches?”
“We actually came to plan the wedding, Sammy. You’ll be invited.”
“At Donegal Plantation?”
“Yep.”
“Ah, man, I’ll be there.”
Sammy waved and continued on his way. Jake hurried to the car, pulling out his phone as he went. A feeling of fear registered in his gut and he suddenly wished he hadn’t urged Ashley to come into the city.
It made no sense. One victim, sweet, talented, and beloved. Another, a dangerous hood.
Ashley was bright, smart as a whip. Through the years, when she’d been in meetings or just working with some of the agents one on one, she’d had an insight the rest of them hadn’t fathomed.
She’d be fine. She was smart. She was prepared.
But he began to worry. She’d also had a dream, a nightmare. It was being back at Donegal.
Memories were popping up.
They’d visited Donegal before. But this was…
He dialed her number.
“Hey, Jake,” Ashley answered with her normal enthusiasm. He decided to bury his fears. For now.
“Antoine’s? That’s romantic, right?” It took everything in him not to beg her to stay at the plantation.
“Antoine’s would be great. See you there.”
He heard the background noise and realized she must already be in the Quarter. “Where are you?”
“Just leaving Fifi Mahony’s. I ordered some new wigs for the next re-enactment and met up with some old friends.”
“Nice. Okay. Well, the streets are a little crazy.”
“A little? Yes. Actually, the streets are always a little crazy.”
“Crazier.”
“I’m fine, Jake. See you there.”
Ashley rang off.
She was fine, Jake told himself.
Witches…
Like Sammy had said, the witches just might not be out. They knew they’d been seen.
Which just meant that they’d be dressed up as something else. And he wanted to stay in the city to see what he could see.
It was a big city. If there were witches about…
They might plan on attending a big party.
* * * *
Ashley loved a number of the restaurants in the French Quarter and surrounding area, but Antoine’s had always been a favorite. Her parents had brought her here when she’d been a child after she’d seen the movie Dinner at Antoine’s. The memory was a good one, and coming back always reminded her of them in the best way.
She sat at the bar with a soda while she waited for Jake. It seemed as if she shouldn’t imbibe, but she wasn’t sure why. Except that she didn’t want any dreams or visions that weren’t…
Real?
Fueled by alcohol?
She pulled out her phone to check the news—and to see if she could discover what the whole thing about witches was.
The first thing to pop up on her screen quickly told her.
She read about the murder of the young artist Shelley Broussard, and then about the man who had seen his friend—a man with a record—murdered by witches.
It wasn’t that New Orleans was crime-free. It was a big city and had never been immune to violence. But she hated to see what had happened. Hated that a beautiful young woman had been murdered.
Hated that it had happened around Halloween.
And by witches.
“This seat taken?”
She turned and smiled. Jake was there, looking exceptionally handsome in a casual jacket and trousers. No tie, shirt slightly open. He was very tall—six-four—and his shoulders were nicely broad, but he could appear almost lean. His hair was at a rakish angle over his forehead.
“I’ll make room for you, sir,” she said.
“Soda?”
“Yes. With lime. Makes it fancy.”
He ordered for them both and took her hand, twining their fingers. “Should be champagne.”
“Not tonight.”
“No, not tonight,” he agreed. “But, I promise…”
She heard the guilt in his voice and tightened her grip, willing him to understand. “Jake, it’s all right. I promise. This isn’t just what you do—it’s who you are. And, I’m proud of that.”
“You’re doing okay, right?”
“Of course. Oh, because I was dreaming.”
“I really don’t like what’s going on.”
“With me—or the murdered girl and the slashed hood?”
“All of the above,” he sighed. “But for now, let’s focus on dinner.”
“What did you do? You think these are associated? Tell me—”
“After.” He brushed her lips with his. “Let’s have an almost romantic dinner first.”
The maître’d showed them to their table. Ashley loved the sense of history at Antoine’s. And the food was amazing too.
Once they were seated and had ordered, Jake smiled. “Wedding plans. How are they going?”
“The space is all cleared out for the wedding. We have plenty of room—luckily, a lot of our friends come as couples, so doubling them up won’t be a problem. No rooms are rented out for the weeks before and after. Oh, and you know how the main hall has the winding staircases on either side? I’ll come down the left with Frazier. He’s so excited. We’ll be married at the base of the stairs, and then take the reception out to the grounds. It really should be beautiful. Actually, whatever we do will be beautiful. You know, I’d be fine with a justice of the peace.”
“I would never do that to your grandfather,” he chuckled.
“No, I guess not.” She grinned.
He leaned toward her, twirling soda in his glass. “So, do you have plans for later?”
“I always have plans.” She loved that she could be playful with him.
“You really are beautiful, my love.”
“Thank you.” She touched his hand. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”
“Think I have a chance of getting lucky tonight?”
“Keep up the good lines.”
They were leaning close over the glittering place servings and snowy white tablecloth.
“I might just seduce you, handsome. If you play it right.”
“Hm. Let’s see… In a movie, this scenario might lead to you slipping off something silky you’re wearing and teasing me with it…”
“Oh?” Ashley set her hand on his knee.
“Um.”
“Like this?” She winked at him.
He stared at her, seemingly shocked, as she slid a piece of fabric over his lap.
“Ashley…” His face had gone a wonderful shade of red.
“Sorry, stud. It’s just a napkin.”
He laughed. “Okay, okay.”
“I want to hear about today.”
He took a breath as they both sat back in their chairs. And then he told her. First he told her about his meeting with Isaac Parks, and then his time at the store. He even mentioned running into Sammy.
“So we’re going to a party?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have had you come in.”
“Yes, you should have. There will be security at the party—you know that. And we can rent costumes. Let’s do it.”
“Ashley, from what I understand,” he said very seriously, “these killers slash so fast there’s no time to react.”
“But we’re forewarned. And I’m with you. And you’re an armed federal agent.”
He still hesitated.
Ashley suddenly sat up straight.
“What?” Jake was instantly on alert.
“What was the name of that art shop?”
“Picture This.”
“Really? I met the man who owns it.”
“You did? I met the wife. Were you on Magazine? Ashley, where did you see him? Nick. Nick Nicholson, right?”
She nodded, digging into her bag and handing him the card the man had given her. “I fell in love with some paintings by an artist on Jackson Square. While I was admiring her work, some other customers came up. And then I heard her talking to someone. I looked at him and he was looking at me. He wanted to know if I was an artist, too. I told him no, and he gave me the card and asked me to stop by. Then, when he was gone, the artist I liked told me that he’d asked her to come show with him. But they don’t just show…”
“Right. The artists work in the shop a few days a week. And the Nicholsons, naturally, take a percentage of all sales.”
“Yes. But the artists get—”
“Free room and board.”
“Jake—”
“I think they need to bear a much heavier scrutiny.”
“Because?”
“Because Shelley Broussard was living there when she was murdered. Because that shop was the last place she was seen alive. She—she isn’t even in the ground and they’re busy giving her room away.”
“They might just be good people.”
“Sure,” Jake conceded. “They might—and they might not.”
“He was strange,” Ashley said.
“How so?”
“I don’t know. He’s a handsome man, dignified looking, but there was something about him…”
“Did he look like a witch?”
“No. Not at all. Like a corporate bigwig, the kind who could charm you into giving him your savings for a hedge fund. What about her?”
“Very… normal. But…”
“But what?”
He sat back. “I tried to reach the other two girls living there currently, Emily and Samantha. They didn’t answer their cell phones, but I left messages. Neither called me back.” He drummed his fingers on the table.
“Maybe they were busy. Artists, right? Maybe they were painting.”
“Maybe.”
Jake was thoughtful. And Ashley understood. She didn’t want to explain why she’d had an odd feeling about Mr. Nicholson. Because Jake—being Jake—would worry about her. And that was the last thing he needed on his mind right now.
Finally he shook his head. “Apparently, they’re set up to house three young women at one time. There’s a room upstairs with three beds. I went through the drawer in Shelley Broussard’s nightstand. She left a notebook and she had written something about right being right and wrong being wrong. I have the exact words in my notes. At least, I think they’re the exact words. I waited until I got to the car—I didn’t want it to appear like anything really interested me. Unless I have something solid, I need people to keep welcoming me. Shelley Broussard has a mother living in Texas, but according to Parks, she hasn’t even been that interested in coming for her daughter’s remains.”
“Wow.” Ashley couldn’t imagine a mother being that uninterested.
“I know.” Several emotions played over his face.
“The notebook bothered you?”
“Yes. It was as if she was sticking to her guns about something. And when she was found, she had a sign on her that read Traitor. But that’s not all. There was a crucifix in her drawer. A really beautiful gold crucifix. It bothered me that she would have such a piece and not be wearing it.”
“People don’t always wear their jewelry.”
But Jake still seemed disturbed. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. Unless she was changing something about her life. She might have been raised Catholic, and then when her mother remarried she changed? It doesn’t seem right. I don’t know, but—” He seemed to shake off his thoughts. “Let’s focus on something a little lighter for now. We can rent costumes in a store that’s near the art shop, right?”
“Let’s do it.” She smiled at him. “We’ll skip dessert. Champagne and crème brûlée next time around.”
“Ashley,” Jake murmured.
“Jake,” she countered, knowing he was concerned for her safety. “It’s ridiculous—for one—to assume these murderers are going to a particular party. You did intend to just walk around and watch what was going on, right? Hoping you’d pick up on some kind of clue.”
“Yes.”
“Stop worrying. And when we’re home… Well, maybe something silk can really fall your way. Or mine.” She smiled. “Remember when we tried the silk sheets?”
“Yes. We wound up on the floor. Actually, even that—”
“We did have a few bruises. Anyway, stud, that’s for later.” She motioned for the check.
They were going to a party.
“Ashley…” He tried one more time.
“Jake, I’m in this with you. I’ve always been in this with you. And we’re in New Orleans. Orleans Parish. We’re home. Have faith in me. Don’t just love me, have faith in me.”
“I do,” he swore softly.
Jake looked at her, his eyes serious. “I don’t know how I could survive—function—if I didn’t have you.”
She reached across the table and took his hand. “It’s going to be fine.”
His expression told her he wasn’t so sure. “We’ll get through it. Together.”