eaten by an alligator, and that had been the best part.
I remembered the voice, the scent of smoke, his breath in my hair, and his arm cradling my breasts. A
long, long time had passed since a man's anything had been near them.
Maybe the alligator hadn't been the best part, after all.
"Wolves don't come out in the light," Charlie explained.
I knew that "All right," I said. "Dusk."
He made no move to leave. After several silent moments, I asked the only question I still had: "Do you know Adam Ruelle?"
Charlie had been peering into my face, and now he glanced away. "Never met him."
"Know where he lives?"
"No one does."
"What about the Ruelle place?"
Charlie pointed to the far side of the water and the waving grass.
I had nothing else to do Tallient had already hired Charlie. And I was curious.
"Take me there," I said.
Charlie's boat was a smooth, fast ride. I probably should have been wary. Airboats flipped in the swamp all the time. But the whip of the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, was too enjoyable to ruin with what-ifs.
In the daylight, the swamp was beautiful. A riot of colors, hardly any alligators, not a nutria rat to be had. I doubted the area would be as appealing tonight.
The red, stalklike flower grew everywhere. I jabbed my finger at a clump as we scooted past, but since we both wore earphones to drown out the blare of the boat, Charlie wasn't going to be answering my questions anytime soon. He merely flashed me his un-teeth and kept driving.
The Ruelle Mansion became visible as we slid wide around a small island. The place would fit perfectly on a Halloween card.
The boards had gone gray; the windows were broken; the porch listed to one side. Despite its condition and obvious age, the word stately came to mind. In days past, music, laughter, life, had filled the rooms. If I concentrated very hard, I could imagine the Ruelle Mansion coming alive again.
Most plantations in this part of Louisiana were located on the Great River Road, which ran from New Orleans to Baton Rouge. Finding one here was as mysterious as it was fascinating. I felt as if I'd stepped through a time warp and into another century.
Charlie cut the engine, and we bumped against the decaying dock.
"How long since someone lived here?" I asked.
"Used to be a lot of transients in and out. But no one lately."
"Why not?"
"People got spooked. Ha'nts and such. Heard tell a few folks disappeared and no one ever saw 'em again."
I stared at the building. If any place looked haunted, the Ruelle Mansion did.
'I'd think the walls would have rotted in the damp."
"Made of cypress wood from the swamp. Never rots. House'll stand until the end of time."
While I should have been reassured that the structure was sound, instead I was a bit creeped out that the house would be standing here when the rest of the world had passed away.
"Come with me," I ordered.
I wasn't afraid of ghosts, but I had a hard time believing every homeless person in the area had been scared off by the rumors. I didn't relish running into a transient as I wandered through the place.
Charlie shrugged, tied up the boat, and followed.
"What're those flowers?" I indicated a patch that seemed to mark the end of the yard and the beginning of the swamp. "The tall red ones."
"Fire iris."
"Pretty." I took a step in their direction.
"Don't touch 'em!"
"Why?"
I had visions of hives, rashes, swamp warts. Hell. The thing had been on my bed.
"Bad luck."
"What kind of bad luck?"
"Hoodoo and such."
Hoodoo was an old-time, backwoods version of -
"Voodoo?"
His only answer was another shrug.
This was the second time voodoo had entered the conversation since I'd gotten here. Of course I was in New Orleans, the voodoo capital of America. I shouldn't be surprised.
I wasn't. However, I decided it might behoove me to make a visit to Priestess Cassandra after all.
Charlie climbed the steps, his boots thunking against the worn wood like distant thunder. The sun threatened to cook everything well done, yet he wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and work boots. I suspected the latter had something to do with snakes. Glancing at my sneakers, I made a mental note to buy heavier shoes.
He opened the door, and I followed him in. Someone had stayed here once. Several hundred someones, by the size of the garbage pile. The smell didn't help.
Old food, new dirt, and...
I could have sworn I smelled blood.
I shook