her head with one smooth move; turning to meet his eyes, she got up, stepped out of her panties, and went naked to him.
The specter had stayed away from Amaia’s dreams for some time. That night, Amaia sensed a presence by the bed, watchful in the darkness, intrigued by the defiance of the little one who stubbornly kept her back to the door as if proclaiming, I’m not afraid of you. Yet she was afraid, and they both knew it. The menacing presence bent down close to Amaia, opened her fearsome lips, and exhaled hot breath across the nape of the child’s neck.
You’re wondering why I didn’t gobble you up? I can, you know. Anytime I want. Maybe you think I’m crazy?
Amaia jerked awake in the darkness, thinking she’d sensed a hostile movement. Her eyes opened on absolute blackness. She cursed herself for neglecting to leave her flashlight lit in the bathroom. She fumbled across the bedside table until she found it and then switched it on, holding it low so as not to wake Charbou.
He was sound asleep. She watched him for a few moments but again caught a hint of movement. Outside, beyond the window. That’s what had awakened her. She switched off her light, got out of bed, drew aside the curtain, and peered out. Across the street, the heavy curtains of an upstairs dwelling were parted and tied back. Two tall French doors were open wide, and the golden light within revealed a richly decorated room. An ancient man wrapped in a bathrobe was reading in the light of an eight-armed candelabra. Behind him, the gilded titles on the spines of the books in a ceiling-high bookcase gleamed and reflected the warmth of the flickering candles. Amaia watched him, spellbound by a feeling of otherworldly beauty.
“Salazar,” Charbou called from the darkness behind her. “Come back here to my bed.”
She laughed. “Your bed?”
“I’m in it, you’re not, so it’s my bed. Come here.”
“Only if you stop calling me Salazar. It makes me feel like I’m talking to a cop.”
“And what am I?”
“A lover,” she answered. “Or did I get that wrong?”
“Come over here to my bed, woman, and you’ll find out.”
73
GRIS-GRIS
New Orleans, Louisiana
Friday, September 2, 2005
The sun rose just past six thirty, and the temperature was already above eighty degrees. Charbou lay in bed, watching Amaia get dressed. He saw her put the leather cord with the goatskin pouch around her neck.
“Man must think a whole lot of you. He gave you the charm that saved his life.”
She rolled the leather pouch between her fingers, pressed its smooth surface, and felt its crisp but yielding contents. It produced a faint crackling sound when she squeezed it. “What do you think’s in here?”
“Seeds? Maybe coffee beans, incense, dirt from a grave, powder of ground human bones,” he said with a smile. “You know, the usual Louisiana mélange. It all depends on the intent.”
“The intent?”
“It depends on whether the giver wants to hurt you or help you. I don’t think you have to worry about that stuff, though. We already saw it’s a terrific antidote to heart troubles.”
“If this is really what kept Dupree’s heart going, what’s going to happen if he’s not wearing it?”
He shrugged. “That . . . is definitely a question.”
Amaia examined the bag, frowned, and slipped it into her T-shirt. “I don’t believe in charms.”
“Then why wear one?”
“For the same reason I’m carrying Jacob’s dragon. I believe in faith. Not a personal faith of my own, but I respect the power of other people’s beliefs. Empires have risen and fallen on the strength of faith. You could claim that the man we’re after is a person of deep religious conviction. In fact, when you think about it, his beliefs are absolute.”
Charbou gave her a thoughtful look. “You’re very clever, Assistant Inspector Salazar.”
“What’s this?” she challenged him. “Now I’m Assistant Inspector Salazar again? I thought complimenting my intelligence was part of the Charbou Method.”
He placed a hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt. “The Charbou Method? That’s what you think I’m up to?”
“I think I had your number from the very first day. You’re every woman’s boyfriend.”
“That might have been true then, but I think Jacob’s sisters were closer to the mark. I heard what they told you.” He took her by the waist and looked down at the contrasting colors of their skin. “Don’t you think we make a handsome couple?”
She didn’t reply.
“I’m being honest. I’m telling you what I think. But you must