on his shoulder, about as comforting as I was going to get with my ex. “I don’t have my bag for you to hide in. Can you . . . can you wait outside for me?”
He gave me a tight nod and turned his back on the big mansion. “I think that’s best.”
“If I’m not out in fifteen minutes, go back to Penny’s and tell them I’m in trouble. Okay?”
Another nod, but his jaw was tight and I didn’t want to point out that his eyes looked pretty shiny. This place scared him.
That alone would have put me on edge. Plus, I knew he’d died here and someone, probably his murderer, had said it was a fitting place for them to meet. No question about it, I was walking into a bad situation.
I walked up to the edged pathway and finally took a good look at the plaque.
Madame Lalaurie Mansion.
I frowned. A whore house maybe? Was Alan killed for trying to get a freebie? I wouldn’t put it past him, but that didn’t explain the fear that had him shaking and glassy-eyed. Nor did it explain the connection to Gran and my parents.
I walked up the front steps of the mansion, the wood creaking beneath my feet. Now that didn’t bother me, not really. Old houses sounded like old houses, simple as that. But the door swinging open on its own? That was a bit creepy.
Because I’d had similar things happen before, with the blood-born demon at the Sorrel-Weed house in Savannah.
Mouth dry, I made myself go into the old house. I wasn’t a chicken shit, and this could not be worse than a blood-born demon. “Anybody home?” I called out, hating how shaky my voice was.
The reply was immediate and full of laughter and menace.
“Always.”
12
The door to the Madame Lalaurie Mansion slammed shut behind me, and I yelped as I leapt toward it, grabbing the handle. No amount of jiggling loosened the lock.
“Seriously?” I hollered, and from outside I heard Alan yell, “You want me to get help?”
“YES!”
I turned and plastered my back to the door. Slowing my breathing, I stared into the brightly lit room. There was an abundance of sconces, every last one filled with glowing candles. From somewhere deeper in the house came a distant scream followed by begging.
Begging not to be hurt. I blew out a breath. This place was ugly, but there was no feel of demons here. Just ghosts. Lots and lots of ghosts.
I swallowed hard and took a step forward. “My ex-husband was killed here.”
“He was,” the voice said.
Okay, okay, I could work with this. Ghost hunter it was today. “Can you tell me who did it?”
“The tonton macoutes killed your man.”
I blinked a few times because my head immediately went to Star Wars with the Tonton. “Can you tell me who you are?”
The ghost of a woman about my age stepped through the wall. She wore a dressing gown and had deep-set dark eyes and dark hair pulled off to the side. “I am the owner of this place, though they have made it far less grand than my home.”
Her eyes swept over the floor, the black and white marble seemingly insulting her. She sniffed. “What do you want ghost talker?”
Ghost talker? Was that what I was? I felt like it was close, but not quite everything.
Around me came the whispers of other ghosts, heard but not seen.
Run away!
“My husband was killed by tonton macoutes?” I repeated.
She smiled. “That bald fellow out there? Yes, I remember. I remember every death that has happened here. You are not afraid of me? That is strange.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You’re a ghost, which I suppose for some people would be terrifying, but me . . . well, I’ve seen my fair share of scary shit. Demons. Werewolves. Men with no faces.” I shrugged. “You get numb to it.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I could see she did not like my answer. A fluttering of what I knew were fairy wings tugged at my ears. I looked up to the ceiling, fully expecting to see Kinkly.
And while it was a fairy, this one had dark red hair and an outfit that matched. Her face was twisted up with what could only be called rage.
“Get out of here, mutt!” She zinged toward me, a three-inch sword in her left hand. She swung it at my face, and I sidestepped as the weight of the sword pulled her past me. Shooting a hand out, I grabbed her by