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Bayou Whispers NINE
NINEThe StormHAD THE VISIONof her mother, Cassandra, on the roof been real? Had she, and maybe even Nana, somehow survived? How would she find them? How would they find her? These thoughts tormented her for hours as she struggled to stay alive, clinging to the shattered remains of the roof.Rain sliced at her, mixing with her tears and blood. The storm was alive—a beast, a monstrous beast hell-bent on killing her. Wind tore around Jeannine, trying to throw her off balance into the waiting arms of the waters below and laughing at her like Cassandra had. Debris tore at her body, rending pajamas and flesh. This creature made of wind, rain, and fear had tasted Jeannine’s blood and wanted more. It tried every trick to wear her down, to destroy her.But she persevered.The wind gave up first, quieting to an impotent breeze. Then, the needles of rain faded to a trickle. Despite the realization that she was alone, Jeannine called for her mother, for her Nana, her tears and blood
Bayou Whispers TEN
TENGreenwood Cemetery Caretaker’s CottageNew OrleansPapa NightmareCURTIS KNEW OFthe legendary Voodoo witch doctor, of course. He was a local celebrity. He did magic for the tourists, all the while telling them stories of New Orleans’s past. While he had the crowd’s attention, his minions picked the pockets of the more inebriated audience members. He was also in bed with the Cartel, providing safe passage for drugs and for people who wanted to come to the States illegally. If they could pay, of course. While Curtis’s krewe didn’t indulge in human trafficking or in drugs, Nightmare and Curtis were rivals of a sort. At least, Curtis liked to think so. In truth, his operation was small time compared to the self-proclaimed sorcerer.Smaller than he’d thought, Curtis admitted to himself as he watched Fernández and Gallow carry the unconscious Stanley Bernstein into Roo’s cottage.Now, how the hell is the shrink mixed up in this?“We need to get him to a doctor,” grunted Fe
Bayou Whispers ELEVEN
ELEVENAboard the SultanaTHE GHOSTS AND PAPA NIGHTMAREleft her alone. With no one to see her, judge her, mock her, Jeannine could remove the mental armor she always wore.She began trembling—whether it was due to the cold or fear, she didn’t know. Next came the tears. At first, she tried to hold it all back. But like the levees the day she was reborn, the mental barriers didn’t last long.Rebirth. Something she hadn’t thought about in a very long time.JShe remembered the aluminum boat her “rescuers” had sat her in. The smell of wet dog surrounded her as soon as the men sat her down between them. But there was no dog in the little motorboat.Water sloshed at her feet—but that hadn’t mattered one bit. She was soaked from hours of enduring the storm.The feeling of elation at being plucked off the roof by those rough-looking men. Unshaven, smelling of body odor and tobacco, they both had wide grins showing stained teeth and gaps where other teeth had been.The fingerna
Bayou Whispers TWELVE
TWELVEGreenwood Cemetery Caretaker’s CottageNew OrleansSHE’D APPEARED INthe middle of the road, damp and muddy, but alive. Roo tried to explain how the Sultanacould travel on any existing and past waterway—and certainly the bit of road they’d been on was near enough to the river. But no one could explain to Curtis why Jeannine had appeared exactlywhere the krewe was at exactlythe right time. Gallow wanted to bring her to a hospital, but Curtis, not trusting any government institution, had insisted they go back to Roo’s safe house. Curtis carried her into the caretaker’s cottage himself but refused to lay her on the couch that Stanley-the-asshole had occupied barely an hour earlier. He carried Jeannine up the stairs to the little spare room across from the master.The room was just big enough for a creaky twin bed with fresh sheets. Roo never knew when a member of the krewe would be sleeping one off at his place, so he kept the bed at the ready.“She’ll
Bayou Whispers THIRTEEN
THIRTEENAboard the Sultana“Is she away?”asked Papa Nightmare, still naked from the waist up, sitting relaxed in the captain’s chair on the bridge of the doomed paddle wheeler. “Yes, Papa. As you foresaw,” a ghoul in the uniform of the Confederacy replied.“Very well. Bring him to me.”The ghoul bowed to Papa Nightmare and then hurried from his master’s presence. A rustling breeze lazily, almost erotically, brushed the Voudon priest’s face. The breeze was warm, like the breath of a lover speaking of lustful needs.“Yes, my lady,” rumbled Papa Nightmare. “All is well. She is strong enough, when properly motivated. I just need a little more time.”The wind suddenly howled, bringing the smell of death and decay. A piece of decking came loose and struck Papa Nightmare on the cheek.“Patience, lord,” he said, and the wind subsided as suddenly as it had risen.He reached to his cheek and found blood. He slowly licked the warm crimson fluid from his finger. “Patience. It is h
Bayou Whispers FOURTEEN
FOURTEENGreenwood Cemetery Caretaker’s CottageNew OrleansCURTIS LOOKED AT Jeannine standing on the first step that led up to Roo’s attic conversion. He finally had a moment to process that Jeannine was back in town. She was really here.And she was pissed.A mix of emotions overwhelmed him. He wanted to throw his arms around her and tell her he was sorry. He wanted to yell at her for going off with that asshole Bernstein all those years ago. He wanted to laugh, to cry. To scream. He wanted to tell her he’d protect her, and it would be all right.But all he could do was to remember to breathe.“Well, it’s a pretty long and convoluted story,” he finally said. It even sounded lame to his ears.“I’m used to listening to long, convoluted stories from defendants,” replied Jeannine. “I think I’d like to hear it.”“Jeannine ... it’s been so long, couldn’t we just ... ?”“No,” she said flatly. “I have some questions, Curtis, and I’m going to get answers fi
Bayou Whispers FIFTEEN
FIFTEENBayou Cypress Pavilion for the Criminally InsaneNew OrleansYou are closer to me than any of your predecessorsBCP.She knew this place.It was once one of the leading state-run psychiatric institutions of the American South. Bayou Cypress Pavilion, better known as BCP, was now a crumbling shell of its former glory. The lobby and east wing were destroyed by the floods of Katrina and a subsequent fire that took a hundred and thirty-seven patients’ lives.Cassandra knew of every death that had occurred due to her storm.The place had been abandoned during the hurricane, with the most dangerous of inmate patients left to fend for themselves. Locked in their cells, many either chained or sealed in straitjackets, those who didn’t drown or burn died from dehydration or starvation. BCP was nearly closed after, with the head administrator given a fine and two years at home with an ankle monitor.His was the worst punishment handed down to any employee of the facility.Ca
Bayou Whispers SIXTEEN
SIXTEENGreenwood Cemetery Caretaker’s CottageNew OrleansTHEY WERE OUTSIDEthe cottage, near the parked truck. “Roo, can you get to Charley before those things get here?” asked Curtis through gritted teeth.“Yeah, he’s wrapped up—but I hate moving him before the process is complete.”“Get him into the bed of the pickup. Fernández, go with him.”“Do you expect to waltz through a couple hundred zonbi?” asked an incredulous Gallow, as he pulled a shotgun from behind the couch.“No, I expect we will run away as fast as we can get out of here.”“And go where, Jonesy? My restaurant and house are sure to be covered with cops.”“Back to my place.”“We burned it to the ground, remember?”“I do. You didn’t burn the bunker, though.”“Guys,” began Jeannine. “While I appreciate this macho banter, can we move, please? I’m really not interested in hanging out with the dead again, especially if Papa Nightmare is here, too.”An engine roared outside and Roo screamed something unin
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