“Yes.”
“Too bad we weren’t a little earlier. You could have gone too,” Stacey told her. “But we’re here now, and we’ve got some time. If you want,. You can take a little walk down the hall, stretch, get yourself a soda or some coffee or something,” she offered.
Lauren hesitated. She trusted these people. Sean Canady, a police lieutenant, had sent her to Montresse House. So if she couldn’t trust Bobby Munro, another policeman, and Stacey Lacroix, the manager of Montresse House—assistant to a good vampire, she reminded herself dryly—who
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” she asked. They were talking about a few minutes, she knew. Not the amount of time she intended to take.
But it seemed extraordinarily important that she find the fortune-teller. And she was only going to find her by night.
There are vampires out there, she reminded herself.
But she was aware. And armed. And she would be exceedingly careful.
“I really could use a walk, something to drink. In fact, I think I’ll run down to the cafeteria and grab a snack, if that’s all right,” she said.
“Of course,” Bobby told her, and smiled. He was thin but wiry, all muscle. He had a lopsided smile and seemed like a good guy, and just right for Stacey.
“You go right ahead,” Stacey said. “Bobby and I know the officer on duty in the hall—he’s a great guy. And we’d never leave your friend. You can trust us, you know.”
I have to trust you, she thought.
“Thanks. I’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time,” Bobby said.
She nodded, offered him a weak smile, and tried not to go tearing out of the room.
Luckily, a taxi was available right outside the hospital, and Lauren immediately flagged him over.
The driver had a Southern accent and spoke English perfectly. He assured her that traffic was quiet, and he gave her a card so she could give him a ring if she needed a ride back later.
He made his way through the traffic easily enough and was able to let her off on Decatur Street, right at Jackson Square.
She walked around.
And around.
Back where they had originally met Susan the fortune-teller, Lauren saw that there was an empty table with tarot cards laid out.
No one was there.
There was no tent set up, either. Maybe Susan hadn’t had a chance to replace her crystal ball.
A young artist was seated near the empty table, sketching idly. She had an easel displaying a number of very good caricatures, but when Lauren approached her, she saw that the woman was working on a realistic sketch of a man.
He was a man like any other, except that…he wasn’t. He wore stylish jeans and a casual tailored shirt, but even in the sketch, his eyes were…strange, arresting.
And frightening.
She couldn’t pinpoint it, but the impression was there. Even in a sketch.
“Excuse me,” Lauren said to the artist, who jumped, gasping.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Lauren said.
The girl flipped her sketchbook closed.
“You saw that man tonight?” Lauren asked.
The girl nodded. It seemed she was trying to collect herself. “Would you like a caricature? I’m really good. Just twenty dollars.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have time, but…” Lauren dug in her purse for a twenty. Once she had been just like this girl, just trying to make enough to get through school. “Here…. When did you see that man?”
The girl looked confused. “I…” She laughed suddenly and admitted, “I don’t know.”
“Think. Please?”
The young woman tried, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
“Has anything…strange happened here tonight?” Lauren asked.
The girl smiled with real amusement then. “Come on, this is New Orleans.”
“Please. I could really use some help,” Lauren told her.
“I don’t…I don’t know. I’ve kind of been in a fog all night.”
“What about the woman next to you?” Lauren asked.
