Blood Red

“She already has a customer,” Deanna noted.

“I’m sure he won’t take that long,” Lauren said with a shrug. She wasn’t sure why she had pointed to the woman, but now that she had, she was suddenly determined. Suddenly she realized that she did know why—she would have liked to draw the woman. Her face was so arresting.

“We could go to Madame Zorba right there,” Heidi teased, inclining her head toward a younger woman just a few feet away.

Lauren grinned. Madame Zorba was definitely a college student. “I like the woman over there,” Lauren insisted.

“There’s a good-looking gypsy guy up the street,” Heidi said.

“You’re engaged,” Deanna teased her.

“Yeah, but you and Lauren could use a guy,” Heidi said.

“Wow. Thanks,” Deanna said.

“Just what I need, a gypsy,” Lauren said. She didn’t let her smile falter. Heidi, damn it, you know I’m not looking to meet a guy.

“You don’t have to fall in love, pack him up and take him home with you,” Heidi told her. Then she added softly, “But you could date. We’re talking well over a year here.”

“Thanks for the advice, Mom,” Lauren murmured. She paused, shivering suddenly, looking up. The night sky seemed to have clouded over; it had suddenly become cooler. There was a moon trying to come out, she thought, but it was shadowed by the clouds. She frowned. It was strange. There was a red glow where the moon should have been. “We may get rain tomorrow,” she said.

“It’s supposed to be clear all weekend,” Deanna said.

Lauren shrugged. “Look at the sky.”

“Um, well…could be smog,” Deanna said.

“Hey, we’re not in L.A.,” Heidi said with a laugh.

“What—is it just called pollution when you’re not in L.A.?” Deanna asked.

“It’s just an angry red sky,” Lauren murmured.

Heidi groaned. “Oh, Lord, we haven’t even gotten to the fortune teller yet, and she’s talking about poetic doom.”

“It’s just strange,” Lauren said.

“Is there anything weird in the wind?” Heidi teased.

“As a matter of fact, it’s gotten a bit cooler,” Lauren said.

“Thank God,” Deanna breathed.

“You know, we could just go have another drink,” Lauren suggested.

Heidi giggled. “The guy is gone. Let’s go.”

Lauren let out a sigh of impatience. “Just remember, you two wanted to do this. I’ll do whatever you want, but I want it on record that I’m against such silliness.”

“This trip is all about silliness,” Heidi reminded her. “I’m going to get married. No more wild weekendss with the girls. No more adventurous vacations. I mean, Barry is great, and he’d never care if I wanted a few days away with you guys, but…well, you know. And I guarantee you he’s going to have one of those wild bachelor parties with strippers, and his idiot brother is going to make sure he has a lap dance—”

”I’ll be happy to get you a lap dance,” Lauren said.

Heidi laughled. “I don’t want a lap dance. Now humor me, slave,” she told Lauren.

“I’m all humor,” Lauren muttered. “Let’s go.”

As they approached the woman, Lauren decided that she must look as on edge as she felt. Either that or she had talked herself into some kind of ridiculous paranoia, because it seemed as if the woman frowned when she saw them, as if she looked worried. Still, Lauren couldn’t help noticing the strength of her features, and she wondered if she dared ask to do a sketch of her at some point.

There was no nameplate, nothing like Madame X or Madame Zenia or any other cliché, on her table. She rose, stretching out an elegant arm and offering a slender hand with elegantly polished nails. “Hello,” she said simply.

“Hi,” Heidi said cheerfully.

The woman stared at Heidi gravely. “You seek the future?”

“Absolutely,” Heidi said, introducing herself. “I’m Heidi Weiss, and I’m about to be married. I’d love some advice.”

The woman nodded, but her expression said that she read in Heidi’s polite words the simple fact that she didn’t really believe in what she was doing. It was all for fun.

“I’m Deanna Marin,” Deanna said, stepping forward. “And this is Lauren Crow.”

The woman arched a brow slightly, studying Lauren. “Crow?”

“I’ve been told that my great-grandfather was Cherokee,” Lauren said, taking the woman’s hand. There was strength in her grip. It offered a strange assurance.

“I, too, have Cherokee blood. We have the same green eyes.”

“So we do,” Lauren agreed, though she wasn’t sure green eyes came from the Cherokee part of her background.

“You’re tall…five-ten?”

“Around there. Another grandfather was from the Orkney Islands. A big tall guy, so I was told. Some Norse, some Scots.”

“Ah, and thus you are redheaded.”

“I like to think auburn.”

The woman smiled. Lauren had to admit, she liked her, but more than ever, she didn’t want a reading, didn’t want to know what the future supposedly held. She wanted to ask the woman to have a drink with them, instead.

“I like to think I am not turning gray. I’m Susan,” the woman said.

Heidi started to giggle. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized quickly. “It’s just so…normal.”

Susan offered a slight smile in return. “Life is normal, the cycle of life is normal, the air we breathe is normal. So many things are normal, including much that we don’t understand yet.”

“You have a beautiful face,” Lauren heard herself blurt out.

Susan inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the compliment. When she lifted her eyes again, she smiled. “You’re artists?”

“I’m a graphic designer, actually,” Deanna said. “Heidi and Lauren can draw anything in the world, though. They’re fabulous.”

“And you’d like to sketch me?” Susan asked, looking at Lauren.

“I’d love to.”

“That’s not why we’re here, though,” Heidi said.

“Ah, yes, the future,” Susan said. She lifted her hands. “What will it be? Would you like a reading of your palm? Or shall we see what’s in the cards? And then, of course, there is always the crystal ball.”

“We should each do something different,” Deanna suggested.

“Tarot cards,” Heidi said.

“I’ll take a palm reading,” Deanna determined.

Lauren shrugged. “Crystal ball.”

Susan nodded, indicating several small fold-up chairs inside the tent. “Lauren, you are welcome to sketch. I’ll begin with the bride.”

Lauren always carried a small sketch pad in her handbag, but she wondered how Susan knew that, and she was slightly disturbed. Or slightly more disturbed, if she were being honest Then she told herself that Susan already knew they were artists. Guessing that she carried a sketch pad was just a logical assumption. No doubt most people who did this kind of thing for a living learned how to assess people, how to read a great deal in a few words and intuit where to go from there.

Deanna had unfolded the little wooden chairs. She sat on one side of Heidi, while Lauren backed her chair away a bit and took out her sketchbook. As she sat, watching Susan instruct Heidi on how to choose her cards, she could hear the sounds around them. Music in the distance, coming from the bars. People talking, then stopping to ooh and aah at the artwork available on the street. Across from them, near the Cathedral, a lone flutist had set down his cap, and now he performed a plaintive and beautiful tune.

She looked up at the sky. Clouds still rode heavy over the moon, like a red curtain in the air.

She studied Susan. The woman was soft spoken. Elegant. Not at all what she had expected. Her pencil moved over the paper. She drew the lines first, then filled in the shades and shadows. Finally she added background, the greenery around the Square, the sidewalk, the tent, the statue of Andrew Jackson rising far behind Susan’s back.

“Ugh! What does that mean?” Heidi asked, drawing Lauren’s attention to the table, where Heidi had turned up a card with a skeleton.

“It’s…death, isn’t it?” Heidi asked.

Susan shook her head. “It often signifies change, an ending so that there can be a new beginning. You are about to end your single life. You will start into a new life.”

“Whew,” Heidi murmured. Though she spoke lightly, Lauren thought she was seriously relieved, and she felt a new wave of discomfort.

“What’s that?” Deanna asked, pointing to another card.

“Love.” Susan looked at Heidi. “You can rest assured in this—your fiancé loves you very much. You are all he has ever wanted, all he could ever need in life.”

“Oh,” Heidi breathed happily. “Ditto.”

“Yes, I can see,” Susan murmured.

“Will the wedding go off without a hitch?” Heidi asked.

“No wedding goes off without a hitch,” Susan said dryly as she scooped up the cards, patting them back into a neat pile. “But you are deeply loved, and you love deeply in return.”

“Thank you.” Heidi rose and looked at Lauren with an expression on her face that plainly said, See? Nothing to be afraid of.

Lauren smiled back weakly, wondering if Heidi had really been listening. Susan hadn’t said anything specific about Heidi’s wedding at all—she had just generalized about weddings. And she had said the skeleton card often indicated a change.

Then again, Lauren told herself, maybe she was the one hearing words that weren’t being said.

“On to the palm,” Deanna said. She and Heidi changed seats. As Deanna started to sit down, she glanced at Lauren’s drawing and frowned.

“What is it?” Lauren asked.

“Uh, nothing, I guess. It’s a great drawing. It’s just that…well, you made the skeleton card the focus of it.”

“I did not!” Lauren protested and looked down at the sketch. It was one of her best, she thought. She’d captured not just a two-dimensional image but given it great depth. She’d found the strange and arresting beauty that was Susan’s. She’d caught the atmosphere of the Square. You could look at the drawing and almost hear music.

And yet…

Deanna was right. Somehow she had detailed the tarot card down to the finest line so that it unerringly drew the viewer’s eye and became the focus of the picture.

“Don’t draw me,” Deanna whispered to her.

“Okay,” Lauren assured her quietly in return.

Susan was watching them both. Deanna noticed and gave her a rueful smile. “Lauren was engaged once.”

“And her young man died,” Susan said. Wow, damned good guess,

Lauren thought irritably. Though it was a fifty-fifty shot. Either they’d broken up or he had died. She knew that she was just one of many young women of her day. She’d fallen in love with a soldier. He’d gone to war. They’d emailed for six months, and then she’d stopped receiving replies.

Until the army lieutenant had come to her house.

She’d gone through it all. The devastation, the anger. And the healing. She didn’t feel that she had any terrible psychological hang-ups. She just wasn’t actively looking to find love again. But if the right person came along…

Would she be ready?

She really didn’t know.

“I’m so sorry,” Susan said to Lauren gravely. She was clearly sincere, making Lauren feel vaguely guilty, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

“Thank you,” she said, ignoring her uncomfortable feelings. “But, hey, that’s the past, and we’re looking to the future, right? What does Deanna’s hand say to you, Susan?”

Susan studied Deanna’s palm and looked up gravely.

“What?” Deanna asked impatiently.

“So far, it has told me that you do not like housework at all,” Susan said.

Even Deanna laughed. “Okay, I suck. Seriously, I’m really bad at it, so I gave it up.”

“Don’t worry, she has a wonderful woman who comes in twice a week,” Heidi assured Susan.

Susan traced a finger down a line in Deanna’s hand.

“The life line, right?” Heidi asked.

Susan shrugged.

“It doesn’t look very long,” Deanna said worriedly.

Susan shook her head, looking at Deanna. “Often, things are what we make them. The line…it’s like the card. It might not mean anything bad at all. It signifies change. A change in life. Heidi is getting married.”

“I’m not even dating steadily,” Deanna said.

“You’re a beautiful woman,” Susan said, sidestepping.

“What else do you see?”

Susan pointed. “Here…artistic success. You are clever and determined.” Susan looked up and stared hard at Deanna. “When you set your mind to something, you can make it happen. When we fail, far too often, it is because we’re afraid. Remember, you have the talent and the will. Don’t be put off by circumstances that seem dire. You are very strong. And there will be changes.”

“Will I ever get married?” Deanna asked.

Susan shrugged. “Your palm is not telling me. I can say that you are passionate and giving, and that you are quite capable of creating fire, passion—and love—around you.”

“I like that,” Deanna said.

Lauren looked at her, trying to avoid Susan’s eyes. Lots of people could have said that to you, her stern gaze said.

“Your turn,” Deanna said.

“Ah, the crystal ball for our talented young artist,” Susan murmured. She didn’t move, though, and her eyes were downcast.

“I think Susan is tired,” Lauren said.

“Oh no, you are not getting out of this!” Heidi insisted.

“May I see more fully?” Susan asked.

Lauren handed her the drawing she had done.

“You are very kind,” she murmured. “You have caught me on paper with great beauty.”

“I want to work more on it. I’ll send you a copy when I’m done,” Lauren told her.

Susan nodded and handed back the drawing. Lauren flipped her sketchbook closed and returned it to her purse.

“It seems like you’ve had a busy night. You look tired. You really don’t have to do another reading,” Lauren said.

“She’s trying to get out of this,” Heidi explained.

Susan stood. She wasn’t smiling. “I think that we must look into the crystal ball.”

Heidi and Deanna started to rise.

“There is only room in the tent for one—I’m sorry. The crystal ball is quite different from the palm and the cards.”

Susan waited gravely, and at last Lauren followed her into the tent, the sounds from the street and the night receding. As she sat in the chair opposite Susan, the world outside all but disappeared.

“Your fiancé, he was a soldier?” Susan asked, staring into the crystal ball.

Startled, Lauren looked at her. “Yes.”

“I’m very sorry, truly. But…there are those who believe there are certain fates we cannot avoid, and others who believe we have a hand in our own futures. Perhaps many people lived because your young man died,” she said softly.

“Thank you. I like to think that,” Lauren murmured.

“You don’t date much.”

“I’ve dated.”

Susan smiled enigmatically.

“What?” Lauren asked.

“You don’t date much because you feel that you meet nothing but dimwits and users since you lost your man.”

“It’s hard to meet the right person.”

They had been chatting casually, almost as if they were engaged in a normal conversation at any one of the smaller cafes or bars in the city. But Lauren realized that something had been subtly changing since she had come into the little tent.

The crystal ball had begun to glow, to fill with a red mist.

She stared at it, unable to tear her eyes away. She only dimly noted Susan’s face, registering as if from a great distance that the other woman looked tense, even distressed.

“You must leave here…you and your friends…must go.”

“Yes,” Lauren said.

But she couldn’t move. It felt as if she were frozen where she sat, as if her very muscles were paralyzed.

There was something dark at the core of the crystal ball, dark and red, finding form as the milliseconds ticked by.

It was a bird. A winged thing.

Then it was not.

It took the shape of a man. Tall, the face dark, the figure imposing.

A sound seemed to rise in her ears, and she realized that it was laughter. Deep, rich, taunting-and cruel.

She heard words.

So soft at first that she couldn’t understand what was being said. Then she knew.

“I’m coming for you. I’m coming to get you.”

“No,” Lauren murmured, struggling for sanity, for reality. Someone had heard them talking earlier. Someone had heard the words that Deanna had spoken teasingly.

“Lauren…” The dark figure called her by name. “I’m coming to get you, Lauren….”

“No!”

“I’m coming to get you, and you’ll be mine in a world of blood and death and darkness.”

Susan suddenly jumped up, as if she, too, had suddenly broken of the invisible bonds holding her there.

She made a strange sound and her arm flew out.

The crystal ball flew off the table and shattered on the ground.

But even as it flew into a thousand pieces, it seemed to Lauren that she heard a husky whisper of evil laughter.

2

She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten there, but Lauren found herself outside the tent. It seemed so normal now, nothing more than a little red canvas tent again.

She was back outside just as if they had finished their session completely normally,, as if she had casually strolled out after hearing some nice normal prediction for her future. She was back outside, in the midst of the neon light and movement of the night. The very normal night. She could hear footsteps and laughter, bits of conversation, the sound of mules’ hooves as they clattered on the pavement, drawing carriages filled with tourists.

Both Heidi and Deanna were staring at her in surprise, and that wasn’t normal at all.

Lauren turned to look back inside the tent. The images she had seen now seemed ridiculous, but the shattered crystal ball was there as proof that something out of the ordinary had happened.

“Lauren!” Heidi said, shocked. “Susan, we’re so sorry. We’ll pay for your crystal ball, of course. What on earth happened?” She stepped forward, slipping an arm through Lauren’s, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I knew you weren’t exactly into this, but did you have to break her crystal ball?”

“It was an accident!” Lauren protested.

It had been an accident-and she hadn’t even been the one to break it. But beyond that, she couldn’t have seen what she thought she had. She had been tricked. It must have been some kind of a parlor trick, though that seemed impossible now, with all the light and noise around her.

Even now, the details of what she had seen, what she had heard, were slipping from her mind. She tried to hold on, but they were all escaping her. And she was beginning to feel like a fool.

Was she worse off-mentally or emotionally-than she had thought?

No!

Susan was still staring at her. And she didn’t seem to be concerned about her crystal ball but about Lauren herself.

“Where are you girls staying?” Susan asked.

“The Old Cote,” Deanna said.

Susan frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t know it.”

“It’s a lovely place, made up of several cottages. It was kind of a family compound before the storm, but they’ve opened it up as an inn now as way to recoup some of their losses. The grandmother—the family matriarch, I guess—is enjoying it, so I guess the place will stay around for a while. I found it on line,” Deanna said, her enthusiasm for their little discovery evident.

“But where is it?” Susan asked.

Deanna seemed a little surprised by the fortune teller’s persistent tone. “Off Conti and a good bit back from Bourbon, luckily. The noise is great when you’re part of the party, but when you’re trying to sleep, it can be a bit much.”

“You have to move. Move into the biggest, most crowded hotel, and room together, stay together, until you can get out of New Orleans,” Susan warned.

“But we’re not leaving,” Heidi said. “Not for several days. This is my bachelorette party.”

Susan shook her head, a look of dismay on her face. She stared at Lauren, and Lauren knew that her own expression must have shown the woman that she was already feeling silly and skeptical, as if she had been the target of a trick—or a joke.

“You have to leave.”

“Oh, please,” Deanna said impatiently.

“I’ll pay you for the damages,” Heidi said, starting to sound irritated.

“You came for readings. You’ve had them, and now you have to leave,” Susan said.

Heidi pulled out her wallet and tried to give Susan money, but the woman only backed away. Heidi set the money on the table, shaking her head. Then she linked arms with Lauren, pulling her away. “You do not get to pick the fortune-teller anymore,” she said, dragging her along.

As they put some distance between themselves and the Square, Deanna burst into laughter. “Didn’t you feel as if we had just walked into an old horror flick?”

“I’m sure she was going to tell us to beware the bite of a werewolf any second,” Heidi agreed, and then she, too, burst into laughter.

“And you! You fell for all her tricks,” Heidi told Lauren.

“I did not,” Lauren protested, but silently she was thinking, Yes, I did. It was creepy as hell in there.

She felt like an idiot now, though, as they passed Royal Street, nearly at Bourbon. Bands were playing loudly from several corners, the sound of jazz mixing with rock.

“We need a drink,” Heidi said. “Name your poison.”

“Meow,” Deanna said.

“What?”

“The Cat’s Meow. Karaoke,” Deanna said.

“You must be joking. We suck,” Heidi said.

“And that’s why we’re perfect for karaoke,” Deanna said happily.

“I need a lot more to drink for this,” Lauren said. The two of them had her laughing, buit karaoke was no more her style than mystical readings. “Wait!” she said, stopping in her tracks and forcing the others to stop, too.

“What?” Deanna asked.

“I’m only Heidi’s slave. Heidi, you don’t really want to sing karaoke, do you?”

“You bet I do!” Heidi said.

Groaning, Lauren found herself dragged into the bar.

It wasn’t that bad. The host was a handsome, well-built black man with an exceptional voice. His choice of music was great; the place was hopping. The entire room actually seemed to enjoy the rendition of “Summer Nights” that Heidi and Deanna laughed their way through.

But when the two of them left the stage, Lauren was glad to see that they were feeling the effects of the noise and the crush of humanity, and were ready to go before she had to make a fool of herself in public. They left the club and headed for a darker place with soft jazz that was just down the street.

“Order me another one of those fizzy things I was drinking,” Lauren said to Deanna when they had found a table. “I’m off to find the restroom.”

She left her friends and made her way through the tables. When she reached the hallway that led to the facilities, she was startled when she ran straight into a man. She hadn’t even realized she’d been walking with her head down, deep in thought. Still, she wasn’t sure where he’d come from as she plowed straight into him.

Apologizing, looking up at last, she backed away.

He was tall, two or three inches over six feet, and definitely well built—she had almost bounced off the muscles of his chest. His hair was dark, a moderate length, and even in the shadowy hallway, it was apparent that his eyes were a deep and striking blue. She thought he was somewhere around thirty, with ruggedly striking chiseled features: high cheekbones, a long, straight nose, determined jawline and a high forehead. His mouth was generous, the kind that could harden into a thin line or curve into a quick smile.

He wasn’t model-pretty. He had the look of a man who lived, and lived by his own rules, heedless of others’ opinions.

“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing that she was staring at him.

But then again, he was also staring at her.

“Kate,” he murmured.

“Pardon?”

He took a step back, deep eyes almost burning into her. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “You reminded me of someone. My mistake. Sorry,” he said again. But he didn’t move, and he was still staring at her.