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Bayou Whispers SEVEN
SEVENFebruary 2006WGNO Temporary Studio Outside the Louisiana Superdome“DON’T BE NERVOUS,”said Stanley with a reassuring smile. “You’ve done TV before. I’ll be with you the whole time. Look at me if you get nervous, okay?”“I’ll be fine, Uncle Stanley,” said fourteen-year-old Jeannine. “You worry too much.”“The people want an update on you,” continued Stanley as if she hadn’t spoken. “Talk about your new prosthetic. And don’t forget to mention the charity event next week. That will lead right into the announcement of my new talk show.”“I know, Uncle Stanley!”“And don’t call me “uncle” on the air, okay? Might give people the wrong impression, got it?”Jeannine nodded.“Say you’ve got it.”She sighed. “I’ve got it, Stanley.”“That’s my girl,” he said, as he put his arm around her shoulders.“One minute, Dr. Bernstein,” said the news director.JBack in the make-shift green room, Curtis Jones, in his dress uniform, paced nervously while watching the broadcast. He
Bayou Whispers EIGHT
EIGHTPresent Day New OrleansInterstate 10 EastboundTHE BLACK ESCALADEtraveled through New Orleans proper, the lights of the city turned to jewels by the rain drops that fell from the sky once again. Jeannine, Stanley, and the leggy brunette camera woman were sealed off from the driver via a blacked-out, soundproof partition. Jeannine felt like she was in a cave. The young camera woman’s thumbs flew across the screen of her smartphone. The handheld device provided the only light in the passenger compartment, painting everyone in a blue, sickly tint.I’ll bet she’s updating her Instagram account, steamed Jeannine. Stanley and his young women. Can’t save them all, you pompous prick.“Why the hell did you follow me?” Jeannine finally asked from between clenched teeth. Visions. Dreams. And now this. The Universe certainly had a sick sense of humor.“I’m worried about you,” said Stanley’s silky baritone. “As I said to you this morning back in New York before you storme
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
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