Bound by Flames

I didn’t have time to ask. The ghoul returned, opening the gates with another polite inclination of his head.

“Majestic will see you both. Please come with me.”

Chapter 26

I hadn’t been inside a cemetery since I visited my mother’s grave years before. I was still in the hospital the day she was buried, recovering from the power line accident that would forever change me. Her headstone had been a simple upside-down U, with her name and date inscribed on the front. Marie Laveau had a tall white tomb that was riddled with graffiti, while more junk was piled in front of it. None of the other tombs we’d passed had been desecrated this way, and I didn’t understand until a high-school history lesson suddenly popped into my memory as if I’d mentally Googled her.

Marie Laveau wasn’t just known as the Ghoul Queen, as Vlad had called her. History had also referred to her as the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. I took a closer look at her tomb. That wasn’t graffiti; those X’s were requests for blessings, and what I’d first dismissed as junk actually comprised offerings. Wow. I was about to meet a legendary historical figure.

You married one, dumb ass, came my next thought, and I laughed despite my nervousness.

Vlad cast a sideways glance at me. I waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Then I jumped, startled, as the stone slab in front of Marie’s tomb began to slide back, revealing an opening. The offerings fell inside and I tried not to think about how it looked like a dark mouth had just swallowed them. Worse, our ghoul guide nodded at the hole in an expectant way. My suspicions were confirmed when Vlad grasped me by the hand and led me to it.

“Put your arms around me and stand on my feet,” he instructed.

I figured out why. The hole was too narrow for us to jump into it standing side by side, and I no more wanted to go first than I wanted to be left alone with the large, imposing ghoul. I planted my feet on top of Vlad’s and wrapped my arms around his neck. He held me tight and dropped us down into the blackness.

It wasn’t a long fall. Only about twenty feet. I didn’t like how the opening above us immediately began to close, but Vlad didn’t seem worried, so I decided not to be, either. After a few moments of hard blinking, my eyes adjusted and I could see the faint outline of a tunnel ahead. Once again, my imagination wasn’t helpful, likening the tunnel to a monster’s throat.

Vlad released me from his embrace but held on to my hand, leading me into the tunnel.

“This is all theatrics,” he said, probably scenting my unease. “Effective for scaring humans, the newly turned, and the easily manipulated, but no more than smoke and mirrors for the rest of us. Still”—he shot a quick smile my way—“I can’t criticize. I keep corpses impaled on poles for the same reason.”

A snort of laughter escaped me and my nervousness lessened. “Birds of a feather,” I quipped.

His teeth flashed in another grin, but beneath that, I caught a hint of ruthlessness. He might have left his guards at the hotel, yet this clearly wasn’t a friendly visit. He intended for something big to go down with Marie, and for some reason, he’d wanted me here when it happened.

I squared my shoulders and found the hard place inside me that would kill if someone I loved was threatened. Especially someone I loved as much as Vlad. Just thinking about the possibility of the voodoo queen trying to harm him made my hand begin to tingle like it was sparking inside the thick rubber glove. When Vlad opened a metal door at the end of the tunnel, I was ready for whatever was on the other side.

Or I thought so. I hadn’t expected a small sitting room with three chairs, a bottle of wine, and three glasses. If not for the stone walls that still held the scent of the graveyard, I would’ve sworn that we’d entered the parlor of a house.

“Vlad Tepesh,” the attractive, black-haired woman said, a heavy Southern accent decorating her voice. “You’ve surprised me twice today. First with your request for this meeting, and now with the news that congratulations are in order.”

It was rude to stare, but I couldn’t help it. Marie Laveau didn’t match the image my mind had conjured. Her coloring was brown sugar and cream and her manner was more refined cougar than female witch doctor. She was dressed in a cranberry-colored silk blouse and a long black skirt, both pieces giving off a vibe of understated elegance, much as Vlad’s clothes did.

“Marie,” Vlad said, with a cordial nod. “Allow me to present my wife, Leila Dalton Dracul.”

I didn’t teasingly change my surname to “Dracula” this time. An undercurrent of tension hummed through the room, even if we were all pretending to be on our best behavior. Since I had my gloves on, I shook Marie’s hand. She smiled at me in a friendly way while her eyes raked me with the pitiless assessment I’d grown used to from the undead. Measuring my strengths and looking for my weaknesses.

“Please, sit,” she said, all gracious Southern hostess despite that. “You must try the wine. It’s one of my favorites.”

With those words, a side door opened and our ghoul guide appeared, filling our glasses with a deference that was matched only by his speed. As soon as he was done, he disappeared again.

“To the newlyweds,” Marie said, raising her glass.

Vlad touched his glass to hers and so did I. We drank and I let out a small sound of appreciation. The deep red wine had hints of currant, oak, and more than a hint of blood. I’d have to duplicate that mixture in the future. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">