Daughter of the Thirteen: Bourbon Street Witches Book 1 (6 page)

Mora and Arlene were the closest she’d ever had to sisters, and now she wouldn’t even have them.

It was best this way. At least if she were caught by the demons that Marcos had warned her about, she would not be putting her friends in danger.

With new resolve, Laurel left the room. Again taking the service stairs, she slipped out the back door when she was sure no one was looking.

There were gas lanterns to illuminate the back courtyard, but the light they put off was too weak to penetrate the thick fog. It was a strange fog that seemed to gather at ground level, before reaching into the air with thick - winding fingers.

When she looked closely, she could see that there was a weird red glow to the mist.

Perhaps she was just seeing things.

She closed her eyes for a short time, believing that when she opened them, the fog would appear normal, but it didn’t. It looked exactly the same.

The annoying voice that originated from deep within her subconscious told her that the fog had something to do
with Marcos’s warnings.

She didn’t want to listen. It was easier to believe he was lying and that she was nothing more than a means to an end.

Darting across the large courtyard, she reached the iron gate without being seen. Turning back, she took one last look at Madam Arlington’s establishment and then opened the gate.

She had no clue where she would go.

The courtyard bordered the alley behind the brothel. If she went left, it would be a long dark walk to Bienville. Her other option was Conti, but that meant going near the cemetery, which didn’t set well with her.

Choosing the dark alley over the cemetery, Laurel started toward Bienville. The choice would prove to be a mistake.

She walked as fast as she could, while still taking care to avoid the occasional trash heaps. The more distance she put between herself and Magnolia Hall, the darker it
seemed to get. It was almost as if the shadows were gathering in preparation of something.

As she was stepping around a pile of trash, a squealing rat scurried from beneath a heap of discarded clothing. Her heart jumped into her throat. Freezing in mid stride, Laurel’s free hand flew to her chest.

When her pulse returned to normal she continued on, though this time she was careful to watch for rats.

She hated the dirty little creatures, almost as much as she hated spiders.

Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the toll of a bell, marking the midnight hour - the witching hour.

Brushing the thought away, she lifted her chin in forced determination and pushed forward.

Maybe her mother had been a witch - perhaps even she was, but that didn’t necessarily mean the demons of hell were actually chasing her. St. Claire might be using the story in order to scare her into submission.

At first she didn’t notice the subtle change in the atmosphere.

Noisy thoughts were like that. The chaos inside her head had a habit of blocking the outside world, and sometimes it happened at the most unfortunate moments, like that moment.

By the time she realized something was wrong, they were already blocking her path.

There were three of them, two men and a woman. In the first seconds of the confrontation, she mistook them for common street riffraff. They’d likely found their way into the District, and were now out to cause mischief.

But something wasn’t right.

She didn’t have a lot of experience with the streets, but she did have an ounce or two of common sense.

They didn’t look as if they belonged on the streets.

The men were dressed in fine evening attire, and though it was difficult to make out details beneath the woman’s velvet cloak, it appeared as if her red silk gown could have rivaled any she’d seen at Magnolia Hall.

There was something exceptionally beautiful about the men, and the woman. Her huge dark eyes and the locks of black hair escaping her hood were in startling contrast to her pale complexion.

Like the woman, there was something about the men that drew her in. The one that really captured her attention had the most enchanting pair of blue eyes. They almost seemed to emit a strange - ghostly light.

His black top hat was drastically out of place, a relic of several decades ago.

Removing his hat, he bent forward in a mock bow. “Good evening dear witch!”

Laurel’s lips parted in surprise.

They knew!

Though the man was smiling, there was something dangerous in his smile.

“Out for a stroll, are you?” he asked, putting his hat back on his head.

This was the beginning of a cat and mouse game, and something told her it was a game she’d better avoid at all costs.

“Pardon me, but you are blocking my way,” she said in a steady voice that betrayed nothing of what she was feeling.

“Is that so?” He laughed.

“You are so sweet. I imagine that you’ll taste sweet too.”

As his voice died away, his fangs sprang forth.

There was no time to think or to indulge in the fear gouging at her insides. Instinctively, she held up one hand and focused on pulling the earth’s power through her body until a greenish black energy enveloped her and shot forward.

Taken off guard, the vampires were knocked off their feet.

With the element of surprise on her side, she had time to turn and run in the opposite direction, toward the cemetery.

Laurel was under no illusion that she would actually be able to outrun vampires, but she had no other option but to try. Stealing a glance over her shoulder, she saw that they were on their feet and moving toward her.

But they weren’t running, or even walking fast.

Of course they wouldn’t be running after her. They knew they could subdue her whenever they chose. They were vampires.

Vampires!

How could that be?

The question would linger in her mind unanswered, at least for the time being. At the moment she had more important things to worry about, like how she would live through the night.

She managed to make it to the courtyard of Magnolia Hall, but when she tried the gate, it wouldn’t budge.

There was no time to try and get it open, or to find another way in. She had to run.

By the time she made it to the main entrance of the cemetery, she was out of breath. She had to find a place to hide until she could bring her breathing under control.

The vampires weren’t far behind her. She could hear their laughter and nasty remarks. With the fog being so thick, hiding shouldn’t be too difficult, except she wasn’t even sure one could hide from vampires.

According to myth, a vampire’s senses were superior to a human’s. But it wasn’t as if she had any alternative. If she didn’t stop long enough to catch her breath, they’d catch her for sure.

Weaving her way through the tombs of the St. Louis Cemetery, she searched for anything that would provide secure cover.

There was nothing, not a single open crypt.

Leaning her back against the cold tomb of some unknown person. Laurel concentrated on slowing her heart rate and breathing until she was no longer gasping for air.

Now was the time to form a plan.

The vampires would have followed her into the cemetery, so going back the way she’d come probably wasn’t a good choice.

They would be expecting her to hide, which meant her best option would be to keep going and find another way out.

“Come out and play Laurel!” The woman’s voice carried on the night air, followed by malicious laughter.

Keeping to the shadows, Laurel darted from one crypt to another. Just as she’d begun to feel some confidence that she might get away, he jumped out in front of her.

It was the one with the top hat.

His lips spread into a mischievous grin. In a moment of panic, all she could think of was that this was would it. She imagined that the vampire was really the Angel of Death coming for her.

“Where do you think you’re going Laurel?”

“How do you know my name? What do you want?” she demanded.

“Your blood … and your life,” he said, his tone matter of fact.

“Why?”

“The answer to that is easy. You must die because you are a witch.”

The other vampires approached, one on each side of her. Now she was surrounded.

“You have me mistaken for someone else.”

Shaking his head, the vampire took a step toward her. “No, I don’t believe that to be true.”

In a blink of an eye, she was no longer looking at the vampire, but the broad back of Marcos St. Claire.

“Not a good idea Bale Spencer.” When he spoke, the ground beneath her feet actually seemed to vibrate.

Startled by Marcos’s sudden appearance, the three vampires backed away.

“This is not your affair, Marcos!” Bale responded.

“That is where you are making a grave mistake. You know the witches are under the Dark Prince’s protection … especially this witch,” Marcos added, a barely detectable tremble to his voice.

“What kind of fool do you take me for?” The vampire tossed furious words at Marcos. “I know it to be only certain witches to have the favor of the Dark Prince … and Laurel is not one of them.”

“She will be,” Marcos came back, leaving no room for argument. “Now be on your way.”

“You will not always be at her side,
Monsieur
St. Claire, and when you are not looking … I’ll eat her!” The laughter ringing in Bale’s voice was even more sinister than his anger.

She could feel Marcos’s fury invade the air around him. It came off him like waves of fire.

When he glanced back at her, she nearly choked on the fear erupting inside of her. His eyes burned like the fires of Hell.

At that precise moment, the third vampire made the foolish decision to defy Marcos. While Marcos had been engaged with Bale, the other vampire had been inching his way to the side. Now he shot into the air and came down on Laurel.

When she hit the ground, the air was knocked from her lungs. The only thing her terror-ridden mind could capture, were the fangs going for her throat.

But it was over before she could even scream.

The vampire’s face was suddenly frozen with pain and surprise. At the same time, his blood poured over her bosom.

He was dead.

Then the corpse was gone and she was staring into Marcos’s dark eyes.

She had no idea why, if it was sheer relief or something else, but she wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her.

“Marcos!” she gasped, flinging her arms around his neck.

Gently placing his hands on her hips, he helped her to her feet.

Leaning down, he put his lips next to her ear. “Don’t worry my angel witch, they are gone now.”

With the immediate danger gone, a dozen questions stormed her mind. “I thought you said they would be demons. I didn’t even know there were vampires!”

“There are demons … and vampires,” he added. “Without my protection, you are vulnerable to both. You are just fortunate I decided to follow you when you left Magnolia Hall.”

“Why do they hunt witches … and how did they know who I was?”

“They hunt witches because they are attracted to the scent of their blood. A witch’s blood is like fine wine to the vampire, but there is another reason.”

Laurel waited for an explanation, but he apparently had no intention of elaborating.

Pulling away, she placed one hand on her hip. “And what is that other reason?” she prodded.

“Omar believes that if he feeds on the blood of witches, the door to the Underworld will open to him.”

“I’m confused. I thought you said the door to the Underworld was already open?”

Sighing, he grasped her arm and started walking. “You are covered in vampire blood. We should get you cleaned up.”

Digging her heels into the ground, she forced him to stop. “You haven’t told me anything! Who is Omar, and for heaven’s sake … why would he want to enter the Underworld?”

Marcos laughed out loud. “For Heaven’s sake you say? Not likely.”

Laurel responded with scowl.

“Omar is one of the oldest vampires in existence, and he is the leader of a nest of New Orleans vampires. As for what he wants in the Underworld, I can only guess.”

“That’s absurd. If you were truly the son of Satan, as you claim, you would know everything about this. Your father is the master of the Underworld, is he not?”

Marcos’s dark - seductive smile set her heart racing.

“I am the Dark Prince’s offspring. That doesn’t equate to having a personal relationship. To him, I am no more than the bastard son of a witch whore, worth only an infrequent thought.”

A sudden insight came to her, bringing with it a tad of understanding. “So this is why you would defy him. You want to get even.”

“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “Now we must go. I have no more time for your curiosity,” he growled, pulling her roughly until she was forced to move her feet.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, still struggling to get away from him.

“To the only place you stand a chance of surviving.”

When they exited the cemetery gates, a carriage pulled up, as if it had been waiting for them.

“Get in,” he commanded.

She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of going anywhere with
Marcos
St. Claire
, but the alternative was worse. If she remained on the streets, she was asking for trouble.

She would go with him for now, but as soon as she figured out how to combat the demons and the vampires, she’d disappear again.

He took a seat next to her and was so close, she could feel his body heat through her clothes. As soon as they were settled, the carriage started moving.

It was too dark to see him, and that made her nervous. It wasn’t so much that seeing him would bring her comfort, but when she couldn’t see his face and eyes, she had no idea what he was thinking.

“I’m going to get blood on your clothes and your seat,” she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“It washes off,” he replied.

Scooting as far from him as possible, Laurel settled into silence.

He wasn’t about to let her off that easy.

Closing the distance between them, he draped his arm over her shoulder. When he felt her stiffen, he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

“Come to my bed tonight. Let me love you, little angel witch.”

“I think you are far too bold,” she snapped. “I don’t care who you are. You can’t treat me in this fashion.”

She wanted to portray anger and confidence, but the cracking in her voice gave her away.

He responded with a deep chuckle. “I think you should have a taste of what I have to offer, before you decide you don’t want it.”

She had a retort ready, but he smothered it with a kiss. His invading tongue sent shivers of desire racing through her. Releasing her lips, he left a trail of hot kisses across her jaw as he moved to her neck.

“You claim you don’t want me to bed you, but your body tells a different story.” His lips moved against her skin.

Her body’s betrayal was her own fault.

If she weren’t already
privy
to the sins of the flesh, she would not be so sensitive to his touch.

That’s what she kept telling herself.

She didn’t want him at all. The feelings he invoked in her were due to missing Philippe. Nothing more.

He was an evil brute for taking advantage of her like this.

A tirade froze in her throat when she felt him slip his hand beneath her skirt.

“This time I’ll take you there, without playing with your head,” he promised, as he caressed her thigh.

“
Monsieur
, please don’t do this,” she groaned, tapping into every ounce of willpower she possessed. She could not allow herself to surrender to the hot sensation searing through her veins.

“You don’t sound too convincing. If you want me to stop, make me believe that’s what you want.” The amusement in his voice was like having cold water thrown in her face.

“Stop!” she commanded.

There was no way to deny how he made her feel, but she didn’t have to give into those feelings. If going there with Philippe was a sin, lying with a demon would be so much worse.

His response was laughter. “You are still convinced that giving your body to me is a sin.”

It was a statement, not a question. Somehow, he could read her thoughts, which was something she definitely had to fix.

“It
would be
a sin,” she came back.

“Sin is the least of your worries, my naive little angel witch. Hell wants you, regardless of how pure your soul is.”

Laurel glared at him through narrowed eyes. “I am not
your
anything.”

“It’s a shame you look at it that way. I could easily satisfy those sinful cravings of yours,” he mocked.

She turned away, refusing to go along with his baiting game. He wanted her to admit her desire for him, and she wasn’t about to do it.

The carriage stopped suddenly. Unprepared, Laurel lurched forward. It was only St. Claire’s firm grip on her shoulder that kept her from falling.

The driver opened the carriage door and offered her his hand. When her feet were firmly on the ground, she took note of where they were.

Bourbon Street!

That was odd. If he planned to abduct her, as she’d assumed, why take her to such a public location?

“Why are we here?” she asked when he was out of the carriage.

“For your safety,” he said, pointing to the building in front of them.

Even for someone with little worldly experience, it was apparent the building was a saloon.

According to the sign on the building, it was St. Claire House.

Laurel was ready to protest when she remembered that to argue about this would be unreasonable. She couldn’t very well claim it was too immoral for her to be here, considering she’d been staying at a brothel.

Instead, she remained silent while she followed Marcos into the building.

As soon as they stepped through the door, the piano music she’d heard outside was so loud, it was like standing in a concert hall. The establishment had wall-to-wall patrons, which didn’t surprise her considering it was a Saturday night.

Linking his arm with Laurel’s, Marcos led her to the long bar where there was a small -mousy looking man wiping away the remnants of a spilled drink.

“Where are they?” Marcos asked.

The man immediately stopped what he was doing and looked up, blinking rapidly behind his thick eyeglasses.

Laurel didn’t miss the way the man’s face drained of color. It seemed that even the mention
of Marcos
could inspire fear, but coming face to face with him was something to avoid at all costs.

At least that was the impression she was getting.

Without saying anything, the man pointed upward.

Giving the bartender a curt nod, Marcos moved through the crowd until they reached the back of the building and a steep staircase. With her hand tightly in his, he led her to the second story and through a set of doors to a parlor.

They were in what appeared to be someone’s living quarters.

With French furniture and beautiful art pieces, it looked comfortable, but wasn’t near as lavish as Magnolia Hall.

The room’s occupants quickly captured Laurel’s attention. Both Arlene and Mora rushed to her side.

“Where did you disappear to?” Mora asked, wrapping an arm around her. “You had us scared near to death.”

“What are you doing here?” Laurel asked, forgetting to answer Mora’s question.

“Bridgett and I have been good friends for a long time. She was the one who suggested you be brought here,” Mora informed her.

Laurel’s eyes focused on the girl who stood a few feet behind Mora.

She was a small girl, with hair so blond it could have been spun from moonlight. Her huge, silver - gray eyes were full of curiosity.

“Bridgett my dear,” Marcos strolled to the girl and grabbed her hand. “I cannot thank you enough for your help.”

Bridgett’s full lips spread into a wide smile. “I only wish I could do more.”

Laurel was taken aback. Not so much because the two seemed to know each other, but because Bridgett didn’t react with fear or nervousness.

Prying her eyes from the girl, Laurel looked at her friends. “What are you two doing here?”

Before either of the girls had a chance to answer, Marcos spoke for them. “Arlene and Mora are your friends, which puts them in danger. I thought it best to keep you all together. Do not think for one moment the Dark Prince will not use those close to you to gain his ends.”

“Why would you go through so much trouble to help us?” Laurel asked.

He smiled in the same irritating way she was fast growing accustomed to. “Perhaps I look at it as an investment. The more witches I have on my side, the better,” he finished, giving her a wink.

Laurel felt it would be useless to question him further, though she was sure there was a little more to his motives than he was admitting.

“So what do we do next?” she asked.

“I must be on my way … for now. The others will catch you up on what you need to know,” he told her.

With that, he spun on his heels and was gone.

Turning her attention to the girls, Laurel asked, “What is he talking about? How did you convince him to let me come here … instead of forcing me to go with him?”

“I did that,” Bridgett answered before the other two could say anything. “Marcos is my cousin, so convincing him that this was the best course of action wasn’t difficult.”

“I swear I didn’t know!” Mora cut in. “When I came here to ask Bridgett’s advice, she told me that St. Claire was a cousin of hers. It was then we decided to move house over here for a time … but you took off before I could tell you.”

Of course it hadn’t been Marcos’s idea, though he’d made it seem it was.

“I’m sorry,” Laurel apologized. “When I saw Marcos at Magnolia Hall, I felt cornered. All I could think to do was run.”

Turning to Bridgett, she asked, “If what Marcos told me is true … how can you be related?”

Her face twisted with turbulent emotion. “Why don’t we have some tea? This is a long story.”