Brenda giggled. “Because a lot of people think mediums are crazy or the vampires in the city will use it for a ritual place or even some voodoo sect. That’s okay. I just want to be in the area.”
“I have a feeling the owners are also afraid of the liability,” Dan said.
“Well, of course. We don’t have to go in,” Brenda said. “We just have to get near.”
“And so we will!” Katie said cheerfully.
“Have you ever met anyone there?” he asked her softly.
She glanced at him and smiled and shook her head. “I don’t even believe the story. Jonathan Medford was killed at the Battle of Gettysburg. He wife died the year before. Public records have her death attributed to illness, and there were plenty of fevers that ravaged this city. There is no record of an altercation between a Medford and a Union officer. Jonathan’s brother succumbed to heart disease, according to what records we do have from the mid-1800s.”
He smiled and whispered, “But no one has come back to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I take it?”
She looked at him quickly, as if wondering if he was mocking her.
“Did you see your ghost again?” she whispered. “Is that why you took off?”
He nodded.
“Did she tell you anything?” she asked softly.
“Maybe. Have you ever heard of Allan Pierce?”
“Uh, vaguely. He was around during the original Axeman crimes. He claimed that...”
Her voice trailed, and she stared at him. “He was all about the number six. He was never accused of being the Axeman, but he was certain the Axeman was a super being, created on the same day as man but given will and power. I think people claimed that he made them commit a lot of robberies and assaults, but... I forgot. Yes,” she said softly. “The number six. Can it mean anything?”
“Anything can mean something when someone makes it mean something.”
They were moving closer to the Irish Channel section of the city.
He asked her, “Katie, what is your family’s connection to New Orleans? I know your parents were both in the military and you were born in Florida. But Jeremy Delaney is your cousin, or second cousin. Your father’s cousin. Did you have relatives—”
“Yes. My grandparents—they died when I was young—were from New Orleans. My parents wanted to live in Florida because they loved the ocean so much. Jeremy has always been here, but he and my dad were the last of the family.” She studied him. “I visited a few times growing up because my dad and Jeremy were always close. And I didn’t come with him, but my dad came up after Katrina and the flood to help find survivors. Jeremy has always had a boat, and they went out together. I think they did help. But that was the last time my dad was here before he, my mom and Anita were murdered. Why?”
“I was curious,” he said. He smiled. Katie was an excellent carriage driver, courteous of cars and pedestrians, and careful regarding her mule and carriage.
Outside the tourist area, he noted that the few homeowners out—retrieving mail, doing yard work, or just playing on their lawns—stopped to note the carriage as it went by. They weren’t as common a sight in the Irish Channel as in the French Quarter or Garden District.
The group in the back was chatting, each saying with certainty that they could contact Jonathan Medford or his brother or perhaps his wife.
Her name had been Gazelle.
“Where did he meet her?” one of the young men asked. “I admit I don’t know this story that well!”
“Ah, well, because it’s not in the mainstream!” Brenda told him.
“They met at a ball at Oak Alley,” Katie said. “They both had the same social stature at the time, and they were considered lucky since the marriage wasn’t arranged. It was love at first sight, or so the story goes.” Katie turned to look at her group. “We’re just about there. And please remember, you can’t visit the house or even the cemetery since they’re in ruins.”
Katie drew the carriage up in front of the mansion. As she had told Brenda, a fence surrounded it, but it had been constructed of cheap wire and plastic, and in areas, it looked as if it had been trampled halfway down by small herds of animals.
Local kids, probably, daring one another to sneak onto the property.
As Katie stopped the carriage, Dan could see the walls of the house that remained. Empty windows looked out like dead eyes.
The cemetery, to the rear and side of the remnants of the house, had a few aboveground tombs and a few vaults.
“To the best of my knowledge, the remains of the family were moved out to one of the cemeteries in Metairie. But... I don’t know that much about remains after a hundred years, or if the remains were even moved,” Katie told Dan quietly as her group moved along the fence, excitedly looking in and talking to one another.
Brenda gained attention, standing by the property, looking in at the graveyard. “Let’s close our eyes, join hands...breathe.” she said.
Her group gathered around. She began a low chanting sound and then threw her head back and cried out loud, “Gazelle, Gazelle, dearest lost beauty. We’re here! We’re here to listen to your side of the story! Let us know you’re here, with us.”
A moment passed, and she spoke again. “Yes! She’s here.
