This Wicked Game

FOUR

They took Xander’s car from Claire’s house in the University District all the way into the Quarter.

Xander turned onto one of the quieter streets that surrounded Washington Park. They had agreed it was best not to park right in front of the woman’s house, and Xander pulled to a stop next to the curb on another small side street.

He turned to look at her. “Ready?”

She nodded and they got out of the car, looking up at the street signs as they went.

“I think it’s up there,” Xander said, pointing to the corner as they passed the park.

Despite the secrecy of their mission, Xander held her hand, staying on the outside of the sidewalk and generally doing everything possible to make Claire feel like a fragile female in need of protection. Asking him to stop wasn’t an option. Xander’s chivalry was bred as deeply in him as his belief in voodoo.

They stopped to check the address of the house on the corner against the receipt and did the same with the one across the street before deciding to take a right.

The houses were small and quaint, alternating between cute and slightly run-down. They saw a couple of “For Rent” signs as they continued down the street, the shade from the great oaks on either side providing welcome relief from the heat.

Claire made note of the house numbers as they walked. They were halfway down the block when she stopped.

“Wait . . .” She looked back at the iron gates they’d just passed. “I think that’s it.”

Xander tensed, scanning the gate for a house number and turning to Claire when he didn’t find one. “How do you know?”

“Because the house back there is 546 and that one”— she pointed to the house on their left— “is 550. This one has to be 548, even though it’s not marked.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “Now what? There’s a courtyard.”

Claire considered. The courtyards that fronted some of the city’s homes made it impossible to get close without being spotted by someone inside the house.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Let’s just wait. See if anyone comes or goes.”

Xander sighed. “This is crazy. Even if we see the woman who came into the store yesterday, what will it prove? That she lives in New Orleans? She hasn’t exactly made that a secret.”

“I know, but—” Claire stopped, hearing the sound of heels on pavement. She pulled Xander behind the foliage of a large camellia bush.

They stood, bodies pressed together, trying to get a view of the sidewalk as the sound of footsteps grew louder. A few seconds later, the woman named Eugenia came into view. Her legs were long and slender in a black pencil skirt, a billowy white blouse over the top of it.

And she wasn’t alone.

A man walked by her side. His head was bowed, silver hair glinting at his temples. He wore trousers and a snug button-down. A fraying rope bracelet was wound around his wrist, incongruous against the well-groomed backdrop of his clothing.

Claire sucked in her breath, a surge of energy pulsing through her skin at the sight of him. She shivered, the back of her neck growing slick with cold sweat, the blood running faster through her veins as panic set in.

Every instinct in her body screamed danger.

They watched as the pair stepped through the gate. It closed with a clang, and the footsteps suddenly stopped. The woman murmured, and Claire caught the sound of another voice, deeper and louder.

Xander glanced at her. She held a finger to her lips, listening, trying to catch snippets of the conversation between Eugenia, the man who’d arrived with her, and the third person she couldn’t see.

A moment later, Eugenia and the silver-haired man resumed their progress toward the house, and a younger man stepped onto the sidewalk. Dressed in slim trousers and a fitted T-shirt, he walked right past Claire and Xander. His shoes, some kind of modern loafer, were quiet on the pavement. Claire tried to get a look at his face, but all she caught was a glimpse of pale skin, dark hair, and thin, angular features.

“That’s it,” Xander said when he was gone. “We’re leaving.”

Claire gazed over the bushes, eyeing the stucco building. “Maybe we should just—”

“No. We’re leaving, Claire.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” she said angrily.

Xander crossed his hands over his chest. “You don’t have to finish. I already know what you were going to say.”

“How could you know when I didn’t say it?”

“You were going to say we should have a look inside the courtyard.”

Claire tried to cover her surprise. “Well . . . okay. That’s what I was going to say. But so what? What harm will it do? Maybe we’ll even get more information for the Guild.”

Xander took her arm and began leading her away from the house. “I think the Guild can take it from here.”

“Xander, just . . .” She tried to pull her arm from his grip, but he held tightly. She finally wrenched it free with an almost-painful tug. “Stop!”

He stopped walking. “What?”

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked him, rubbing her arm. No one would ever accuse Xander Toussaint of being a wimp, but he wasn’t a bully either. Especially not with her. “Why are you acting like this?”

He took a deep breath. “Claire . . . you’re just going to have to trust me. I don’t know who these people are or what they’re up to, but it’s not good.”

“How do you know that?” she asked. “You don’t know any more than I do.”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this now. Let’s go.”

“You know something.” She leaned against the trunk of an enormous oak. “And I’m not leaving until you tell me what it is.”

Xander paced away from her before he turned back, defeat on his face. “You won’t believe me anyway.”

She thought about it. “Why? Because it has to do with voodoo?”

He hesitated before nodding.

“I promise I’ll try to keep an open mind, okay? Now, spill.”

He crossed the distance between them. “I had a dream last night. About you.”

“Okay . . .”

“You were here, Claire,” he said softly.

“What do you mean ‘here’?”

“I mean, you were here. On this street. In front of this house.”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. Neither of us knew the woman lived here until now.”

Xander’s eyes didn’t leave her face.

She sighed. “Lots of houses in the city look like this, Xander. You know that. And lots of streets look like this one, too. You could have been dreaming about anywhere.”

His gaze still didn’t waver. “It was this street. This house.” He looked across the street at a red house with balconies on two levels. “That house was right where it is now. I even saw that beat-up car.”

Claire’s eyes settled on the old Chevy parked in front of the red house.

“Okay, so you dreamed about this. Maybe you have some kind of psychic ability or something.”

“You believe in psychic ability but not in the craft?” he asked skeptically.

“They’re totally different. One is based on superstition and the other . . .” She stopped. “Look, forget about it. Dreaming about us coming here doesn’t mean something bad’s going to happen.”

“I didn’t tell you the rest,” he said softly.

She didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to check out the house. See what they could find out about the woman and her friends. Most of all, she wanted to know how Eugenia knew her name when Claire had never seen her before in her life.

But Xander was shaken. Claire could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t going to stay unless she heard him out.

She sighed. “Okay, tell me.”

“It was dark, and you were being dragged out of the house, through that courtyard,” Xander said, pointing to 548 Dauphine. “Then you were in a forest or a swamp or something. A Houngan priest was chanting and marking the area around you in a circle of blood. There was a fire burning and three other people in headdresses. The priest had a knife. He . . .” Xander stopped, his expression far away.

Claire knew that he wasn’t making it up.

He was remembering.

“Keep going,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“He bled you. He cut open the veins in your forearms and bled you dry.”

Claire couldn’t speak. It wasn’t just the dream. Everyone had dreams, even scary ones.

There was something else. Something familiar about the scene Xander had described. It was like she’d already lived it, even though she knew she hadn’t.

She shook it off, reaching for his hand. “Look, it was just a dream, but if you want to go, we can.”

He hesitated before pulling her to him. “I’m sorry, Claire. I just know you’re not safe here.”

She stood for a long time in the confines of his arms, trying to shake the feeling that he was right.