Blood Red

the fortune teller, but luckily she didn’t have to worry about it, because Heidi reappeared in time

Lauren‘s head was still reeling.

Deanna was holding her own, but Heidi’s behavior was beyond peculiar. She had returned to the hospital in a very pleasant if somewhat…fey mood. Not a word Lauren usually used, but it was one that seemed to describe the way Heidi was acting. She had mentioned avoiding several calls from Barry, and said blithely that Deanna was going to be just fine and she would be happy as a little lark to stay with her and watch television or read for the evening. When Lauren promised that she would return as soon as she could, Heidi told her not to worry.

Lauren couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy about leaving Heidi in charge, so to speak, then told herself that she was being ridiculous. There was a cop on constant duty at the door, and he was certainly capable of protecting both women if there should be any need.

After leaving the hospital, Lauren found the nicest taxi driver in the world and asked him to take her to Montresse House, because she’d decided to pick up a light jacket before hitting Jackson Square. The driver was a native of the area and sympathized with her for having a friend being in the hospital. Healso believed in the occult and told her that she should buy herself some serious mojo to protest against evil.

She thanked him while privately thinking there was no need to get carried away.

Unfortunately, as nice as he was, he wasn’t able to get her all the way to Montresse House or even to Bourbon Street. There had been an accident, and the streets were blocked off. He apologized profusely but suggested she get out a few blocks away and walk.

Lauren did, though she wasn’t sure exactly where she was. There were people around, and there were lights, and she wasn’t particularly worried. As she walked, she kept going over everything they’d done since arriving in the city.

A chill seemed to wrap itself around her suddenly, and she stopped walking. Frowning, she paused, looking around. The street was lined with old residences, with only a few storefronts here and there, and most of them were cafes that only served by day. Magnificent houses sat behind high walls, with bushes lining the sidewalk for added privacy,, and it seemed they had all begun to rustle.

She quickened her pace.

Then she stopped.

Someone had stepped out from behind a high brick wall. Someone who was tall and formed a dark silhouette against the night.

She could hear the distant sound of traffic.

Laughter.

Even music.

She stood dead still. A breeze wafted by, strangely cool. She became aware that she was alone on the street. Doors and gates were closed. She wasn’t far from Bourbon Street, but she might as well have been at the end of the world.

The silhouette wasn’t moving, exactly, or at least not in any way she could identify, yet it seemed to be coming closer to her, almost floating just inches above the sidewalk.

Then, suddenly, the dark figure became a man, just a man. Tall, mid-thirties, athletic build, dark. He wore black jeans, a black polo shirt and a casual jacket. His hair seemed to be darker than the night.

And his eyes…

They might have been black, too.

Except there seemed to be some kind of a glowing golden light in them.

She told herself to move, to quicken her pace; to hurry past the man, then realized for the first time she was standing dead still.

And he was smiling as he approached her.

She could hear the blare of a horn from somewhere, but it might as well have come from another world. It was followed by the plaintive sound of a jazz chord.

But it was so far away.

“Hello.”

Her heart seemed shudder as he spoke. She didn’t understand why she wasn’t moving. It was as if her limbs had become paralyzed. She was furious with herself. What the hell was the matter with her?

His voice was deep and smooth. She wondered if that was part of what held her so firmly where she was. But she had been standing still, just waiting, before he had spoken.

She didn’t reply. She just stared at him, and he stared back.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

He’d been looking for her?

Ridiculous. She’d never seen him before. Or had she? At that moment, she knew that she had seen him before; she just couldn’t place where or when.

To her amazement, she managed to speak. “I don’t know you,” she said. If she tried really hard, she thought, she could probably move.

“But I know you. And you will remember me in time.”

It was the worst pick-up line she’d ever heard, she thought.

“Excuse me, I have to get going,” she murmured, and moved an arm.