Chapter Thirty-One

But I didn’t have it anymore. Murphy did.

Was I actually buying into this whole wereleopard thing? Not completely. However, something strange was going on, and I appeared to be right in the middle of it.

“Any ideas?” Diana asked as we reached the shop.

She deserved an answer, so I made us more tea, and then I told her what I hadn’t.

“Murphy stole the diamond,” she murmured.

“Twice.”

“Mmm,” she said. “It might have magical properties the Egbo needs.”

“Or it might just be worth a freaking fortune.”

“Or that.” She sipped her tea and made a face before swallowing. “You dreamed of the attack as if you were the attacker.”

I shuddered, remembering the thrill of the chase, the need for the blood, and the taste of it. “Yes.”

“But it couldn’t have been you.”

“Theoretically, no. At two a.m. I was having sex with a diamond thief.”

“Great sex?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“That seems to be the only kind Murphy has.” And I was going to miss it.

“So you think the dream was really a dream?”

“Since I didn’t wake up covered in blood, I’m inclined to believe just that.”

“You could have changed into a leopard, killed the woman, shifted back, taken a shower, and—”

“Been all cuddled up in bed when Murphy arrived.”

Diana shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

“So I hear.”

“There’s another explanation. You probably won’t like it.”

“I don’t like much lately.”

“You know that when a person is bitten by a werewolf, they change within twenty-four hours—day, night, doesn’t matter.” I nodded. “But what you probably don’t know is during that time they experience a kind of collective consciousness, imagining the coming change, remembering things that have happened to others. They feel the pain, the power, both the terror and the temptation.”

Uh-oh. That sounded familiar.

“You think the dream was someone else’s memory, and I shared it?”

“Better than it being yours, isn’t it?”

I wasn’t sure. Because even if I hadn’t killed that woman, I’d be killing someone soon.

“Whether it was real or not,” Diana continued, “we should keep the dream to ourselves. Edward would want to—”

“Shoot me in the head.”

“That is his usual method for dealing with problems.”

“I used to like that about him.”

“Me, too.”

We were quiet for a moment, sipping tea and thinking.

“You need to get the diamond back,” Diana said.

I snorted. “Yep. That’ll happen.”

“You don’t think Murphy will show up again?”

“He got what he wanted; why would he?”

“Maybe he wanted more than the diamond.”

“If that were true, he wouldn’t have left when I was still sleeping. What kind of guy sneaks out before dawn?”

“Only a guy who feels too much would bother to sneak out too soon.”

“Guys sneak out all the time so they don’t have to face the morning after. It’s a typical sleazy guy thing.”

“I guess I wouldn’t know.” Diana frowned. “I’ve only slept with two men in my life, and I was married to both of them. Actually I wasn’t married to Adam at first, but—” She shrugged. “I’m probably not qualified to give advice.”

“Me, neither.”

After a few minutes, the silence made me glance up. Diana stared at me with concern. “I’ve never pressed you, Cassandra, about your past.”

“For which I’m grateful.”

“But there’s something that haunts you. You lost someone, too.”

Diana had lost her first husband, a man she’d loved very much. His mysterious and violent death had set her on a quest that ended here, in New Orleans.

“Was it your husband?” she asked.

I shook my head. I had lost him, but not the way she’d lost hers. And while I’d told Murphy about Sarah, I still wasn’t sure why, I didn’t want to tell Diana. She wasn’t a dummy; she’d figure out what I was up to with the zombie raising, and she’d probably try to stop me. If not her, then Edward certainly would.

“I really can’t talk about it,” I said.

Which was true. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about my past. WITSEC would have a conniption.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

I lifted one shoulder, uncomfortable. We were friends; I should tell her.

But I wasn’t going to.

Diana called the next morning and woke me out of a comatose sleep. In an effort to prevent another dream, I’d taken some of my sleeping powder. It had knocked me flat.

“Cassandra? You OK?”

I must have sounded loopy, maybe because I was. “Yeah. What time is it?”

“Ten thirty. You’re still in bed?”

I sat up, then stood. “No.”

Crap, I should have opened the store by now. I went into the bathroom. A quick glance into the mirror made me frown. I looked like hell.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Edward’s here. He wants to know when we should meet tonight.”

“Tonight?” I splashed some water into my eyes, not an easy trick when you’re holding a phone to your ear.

“Full moon? Raise the dead woman? Ask her how to rid my husband of a curse? Ring any bells?”

“That’s tonight?”

“Are you high?”

“Sorry. I took a sleeping powder.”

“Bad dreams?” She lowered her voice, ostensibly so the old man wouldn’t hear.

“Not when I take the powder.” But there was something…

I lifted my head, then stared, transfixed, at the mirror. My eyes were bright green.

I dropped the phone; it clattered to the floor and I automatically bent to pick it up. When I straightened, my eyes were blue again. What the hell was that?

“You OK?” Diana asked.

“Dropped the phone.”

“You better have some coffee.”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Start.”

I leaned in close, tilted my face this way and that. My eyes weren’t green. Although they did seem a lot less blue than I remembered.

“Cassandra?” Diana pressed.

“Um, yeah.” I forced myself to turn away from the image. “I’ll come to the mansion at dusk. Just after sunset, we’ll try the ritual.”

“See you then.”

I made the appropriate farewell noises and hung up. Returning to the bedroom, I sat on the mattress and rubbed my forehead. I was so damn tired. I shouldn’t have used the sleeping powder, because now I couldn’t seem to wake up and tonight I’d need all my energy for the zombie raising.

I took Diana’s advice and walked to the Café du Monde for chicory coffee. That stuff’ll wake the dead.

Perhaps I could just pour some on the voodoo queen’s grave and forget about the blood.

I finally opened the shop around noon. No one seemed to notice or care that I was late. Midweek in early November was not the height of tourist season.

I used my downtime to call hotels in the area and ask if Devon Murphy was registered. He wasn’t.

Not that I’d expected him to be. Knowing Murphy, he was in Oahu by now, his pocket full of cash from the sale of the diamond. He’d lounge on the beach for the rest of his life and seldom think of me.

I needed to get over him. Too bad all I wanted was to be under him.

About an hour before dusk, I closed my shop—not a customer had appeared all day—then packed a small satchel with the items I’d need: a knife, two bowls, my ason, a cup, rum, a bottle of water, and bandages. I’d get the blood there.

Diana’s home had once been a plantation of great beauty. Most such structures in this part of Louisiana were located on the Great River Road, which ran from New Orleans to Baton Rouge. Why there was one here no one seemed to know.

Diana and Adam planned to restore the mansion to its former state, as soon as they had the money and the time. Right now, the place resembled every haunted house I’d ever seen.

Sagging, listing porch; at least they’d replaced the broken windows and door. The swamp came right up to the yard. I figured she had to keep a close eye on Luc lest an alligator drag him away, although Luc Ruelle could probably best any alligator in Louisiana.

Luc opened the door, crying, “Priestess!” at the sight of me, the formal address negated by his enthusiastic hug.

“I told you to call me Cassandra.”

He took my hand and dragged me inside. “But it’s so much more fun to call you Priestess.”

He grinned. His missing front teeth were just starting to grow in, giving him the appearance of a juvenile j ack-o’-lantern.

The mansion looked much better on the inside. The place was spotless; the floors had been refinished.

They had furniture now, even a few curtains.

Diana had never been a housewife or a mother until a few months ago. I wondered how she managed.

Of course I’d managed to become a completely different person from the one I’d been without too much trouble.

The things we do for love.

My eyes misted, and I blinked several times to make them stop. All I needed was for Edward to see me crying. He’d kick me out of his club.

“Hey, Cassandra, how you been?”

The man leaning against the entry way to the living room gave meaning to the word sexy—shoulder- length dark hair, smooth bronzed skin, bright blue eyes, and a body that had been honed to perfection years ago.

“Adam.” I cleared my throat, tried not to drool. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

He shoved away from the wall, then leaned down to brush my cheek with his lips. “I wouldn’t miss this for de world.”

That Cajun accent always made everything he said sound both lazy and oh, so important at the same time.

“I—uh, well…” I wasn’t sure how to tell him I didn’t think everyone and their sister should be at the cemetery. This was going to be my first zombie raising; I didn’t need an audience.

“Relax. I won’t be goin’ along. Someone has to watch de boy.” He winked at Luc, who’d left my side to lean against his father’s. They resembled each other so closely it would be creepy if it weren’t so cute.

“Oh, right.” I wasn’t used to worrying about babysitters anymore. How quickly we forget.

Sometimes, lately, I’d had to think really hard to remember the shape of Sarah’s face, and that frightened me.

“I thought I’d better get home,” Adam continued. “If you find a way to end de curse, we celebrate. If not

...” He shrugged, but his eyes were far from indifferent.

If I didn’t find a way to end the curse, I wasn’t sure what Adam and Diana would do.

“Don’t worry.” I straightened with determination. “I’ll raise her.”

I had to. Because the next stop was Sarah.

“Of course you will.” Edward stood at the top of the steps.

As unlikely a leader of an elite monster-hunting unit as could be imagined, Edward Mandenauer was well over six feet tall and cadaverous thin. His once blond hair had faded, as had his blue eyes. However, his mind was as sharp as anyone’s.

He j oined us in the front hall, throwing a sharp glance in Adam’s direction. “Did you do as asked?”

“Yes. She won’t rise.”

I figured they were talking about the woman I’d dreamed of.

“Silver?” Edward asked.

“Among other things.” Adam glanced pointedly at Luc and they let the subj ect drop.

“Are we ready to go?” Edward asked.

“As soon as Diana is.”

Edward frowned. “Why do we need her? You are the voodoo priestess.”

“I don’t really need you, but I have a feeling you’re still coming.”

He didn’t bother to answer.

“And I’m coming, too.” Diana hurried down the hall from the kitchen. “No one else knows the location of the voodoo queen’s grave.”

“You could tell us,” I said.

“Not on your life. This I’ve gotta see.” She turned. “Pizza’s in the oven, boys.”

Not only did they have furniture, but they had electricity also. Life was looking up at the Ruelles’.

Diana kissed Luc, then Adam, running her fingers along her husband’s cheek and staring into his eyes for a long moment Something passed between them that didn’t need words. I practically sighed out loud.

How could I miss such a connection when Karl and I had never even had it?

“Enough kissy-face,” Edward ordered, and Luc giggled. Edward’s stoic blue gaze lowered to the boy.

“What is so funny, young man?”

“You said ‘kissy-face.’”

“I say a lot of things. For instance, ‘go to bed.’”

Luc wrinkled his nose. “It’s not even dark yet.”

Edward glanced at each of the adults in turn, his expression puzzled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Obviously Edward had spent very little time with children. Not surprising. He’d been busy with the werewolves for the past sixty years.

A short while later we reached a small, enclosed plot of land set back from the highway. Diana turned onto the dirt road, and we made our way to the gate, then climbed out of the car.

The sun had fallen, though there was still a thin line of red across the horizon. The moon would be coming up soon—full and bright.

In the hazy light of dusk, the old slave cemetery was a sepia-toned photograph of a time long gone but never forgotten.

“There aren’t any crypts,” I said.

“For slaves?” Diana opened the gate, which wasn’t locked, so why have one? “You’re kidding.”

“But I thought people had to be buried aboveground.”

“Only in the city, where burying them in the crypts prevents them from popping out of their graves and floating down the street when it floods.”

Something that had happened in the past but thankfully did no longer.

“Out here the land is higher,” Diana continued.

“By the swamp?”

“Sadly, yes. Besides, folks didn’t much care if the slaves floated away. They weren’t going to spend money on crypts for dead Africans.”

“The inhumanity of man never ceases to amaze me,” Edward murmured.

I guess he was an expert on that.