The Fangover (The Fangover 1)

The vagrant smiled then, revealing what might have once been quite a charming grin, before the yellowed and missing teeth.

Suddenly Katie knew where she recognized him from, and it wasn’t from her own memories of last night, it was from that couple Betty and Ed’s photographs.

This was the vagrant dancer that they’d mentioned. But why hadn’t they also mentioned him as being a part of the wedding party along with them?

“Where did we meet last night?”

“After your wedding ceremony. You were married by one of my dear friends, Annalese Bonvieux.”

Katie frowned. She was pretty sure the priest in the bathtub would not have that name.

“Could you bring me to . . . her?” Katie guessed he must be referring to a woman.

“Of course I can,” the man agreed with another wide smile. “And you will get me back Winston?”

“Absolutely.”

The man gestured for her to follow him and they headed toward Bourbon, which again made her feel a little more secure going with the homeless man. Of course, she did know she could defend herself, but old cautions died hard. Harder than she had, apparently.

As they walked, the vagrant chattered on about things and places that he seemed to think she should know about. Some tarot card reader in Jackson Square who could tell the future as sure as if she were reading a book. Katie wasn’t even sure what that meant. And about a band he loved over at Boney’s, a bar Katie had never heard of. The man talked like they were old friends, and for all she knew they might have talked about all these things last night. But tonight, she had no idea what he was talking about.

In fact, from his erratic rambling and changing of subjects, Katie wondered if she should even trust that this man really did know who had supposedly performed her and Cort’s wedding.

He was a vagrant after all. He was probably no more of a reliable source of information than his bird had been.

But at this point, what did one more wild-goose chase really matter?

“Oh, hear that?” the man said suddenly, grinning wildly. Katie frowned, since getting closer to Bourbon she could hear dozens of things. Bands, people, laughter, fights, even faintly under all of that, the beating of their hearts. So given all of those sounds to choose from, she couldn’t begin to guess which sound he referred to.

“I love this band,” he said, suddenly beginning to jig right there in the street.

Katie found herself smiling as she watched the man’s utter abandonment to the music and his dance. And in truth, he was actually rather good.

“I have to go listen for a while,” he said, heading to a bar on the corner.

“Wait,” Katie said, but the man disappeared into the crowded mass of partiers.

She debated following him, but knew she couldn’t handle being bombarded by all the sounds and smells. Never mind the jostling of the crowd, bodies close to her, body heat, and the sweet scent that seemed to cling to every mortal like a sugary coating. Even now, keeping her distance, that smell called to her.

She distanced herself a little more from the hopping bar and waited. And waited.

After standing there for more than fifteen minutes, she decided maybe she should just go. Following the man in the first place had probably been a fool’s errand, and the longer she stood out here, with people wandering everywhere, the more she could feel that underlying hunger building deep inside her.

But where could she go? She had a name, Annalese Bonvieux. She could try to find this woman on her own. But she didn’t even know where to start.

Darn, she really just wanted to go back to her apartment. She wanted peace and quiet.

She wanted the bag of blood in Cort’s fridge, she realized with mild disgust. Sadly, very mild disgust.

She guessed she’d have to settle for somewhere here in the Quarter. But what place would be even vaguely quiet.

Fahy’s, she decided, risking cutting across Bourbon and down one of the side streets. Fahy’s could be busy at times, but she thought it was probably late enough to be safe. Plus, Katie knew the bartender well, and he’d probably let her order a drink and just give him the money tomorrow night once she figured out how to get her purse back from Cort. If it was even there.

When she reached Fahy’s green front door, she knew she’d made the right choice. The place looked quiet tonight. Thank God.

She opened the door and stepped into the calming dimness. The dark wood of the bar also seemed to ease her tension, as well as the soft rock coming from the jukebox. Who would have thought Air Supply could soothe the savage beast?

“Nigel,” she greeted the bartender with a smile, glad to be somewhere that felt normal and familiar, but the normalcy, at least, was short-lived.

“Katie-Katie, my girl,” Nigel said in his wonderful British accent. “I’m surprised to see you out and about tonight. I would have thought last night would have been more than enough excitement for a while.”

Katie forced herself to return his smile.

Nigel reached for a mug hanging on a rack above his head, then he placed it under the spigot of her favorite beer. Once it was filled, he set the full mug in front of her and leaned on the bar.

“After all, it isn’t every day a young bird like you meets her maker,” he said, shaking his head.

“Meet my maker?”

“Aye,” he said, then regarded her closely. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember a thing about last night either.”

“Either?” She was starting to feel a bit like Winston, repeating everything Nigel said. Not that Winston seemed to be the type of parrot that did that. He had plenty to say without mimicking.

“Yeah, some of the others were in here earlier,” Nigel said. “Wyatt, Stella, that confused kid with the long blonde hair.”

“Saxon,” Katie said automatically.

“Yeah, him. They were here and seemed a little confused by the events of last night. Of course, they didn’t have nearly the reason you do to be confused.”

Well, Nigel was right, she was confused. Very confused. “They don’t?”

Nigel shook his head, giving her a sympathetic look. “You don’t remember a thing about what happened on the riverboat, do you?”

She shook her head. She hadn’t even realized Nigel had been there, although it made sense he would be. Katie knew Nigel was friends with the band guys, and Johnny had come here often after he was done playing. Of course, Nigel would go to the memorial to pay his respects.

“Probably a good thing you don’t remember,” Nigel said and reached out to pat one of Katie’s hands in an almost fatherly way. “All I can say is thank Mary and Joseph that Cort was there. If he hadn’t done what he did, well, you wouldn’t be sitting here with a pint, I can tell you that.”