Page 47 of Stalked By Shadows

I thought for a minute or two that maybe what I’d seen during the day was a fluke. But the longer we stood there while Micah answered questions, the more the pain in my gut intensified. Almost like the siren song of that day in the desert. Only I recognized it for what it was now, the call of death. Or as Micah had put it, doom.

When we finally moved on, I breathed a sigh of relief as the further we got from the house, the more the feeling eased. We didn’t see the dancing girl at Jared’s hotel, or barmaids at the Dauphine. The night was quiet enough, though if I never had to walk by the LaLaurie Mansion again it would be too soon.

The French Market was our last stop, and very still in the darkness, an empty stretch of road with a few street lamps in the distance. I listened to the stories and chatter, watching the area. Movement caught my attention from near the end of the market area. We stood near the crossroads, street signs a few feet away, but I could only read one which said Gallatin. The long stretch of the Market that had been filled with vendors fading off into the darkness.

Down toward the end there seemed to be someone walking toward us. I blinked in that direction, trying to make out who it might be in the darkness. Was it someone who wanted to bug Micah for hosting a tour? I’d noticed he had taken a very different route from the handful of other tours we’d passed. Had any of them ended up in the Market?

I looked around at the group and wondered if anyone else had noticed. But they were all snapping pictures around and laughing lightly about prostitutes who could whip the asses of a bunch of stupid and likely very drunk sailors. I raised my own phone and took a few pictures of the group and the figure who ambled our way. The figure didn’t really get any closer.

Micah was still talking, so either he didn’t notice it or was ignoring it. And I didn’t feel anything. Nothing. Not a sense of doom or even anxiety, not until I realized I could see a hint of light filtering through the figure. Not a person, I thought, keeping it to myself. Human shaped with a defined head and shoulders, the bottom half a bit more unfocused. Could it have been the prostitute? What was her name? Red something? I’d missed half the story. Would have to ask Micah about it later. But the story ended and questions trailed off. The figure was gone.

“Thanks, everyone, for coming. If you have a chance, please post a review of our tour online,” Micah told them. “Does anyone need directions from here? I always feel like the Quarter, while very square, is somewhat confusing to newcomers.” The older couple approached him for help, while the rest of the group began to scatter, except the reporters.

I approached them. “Can I help you guys with something?”

“Did you guys really find a dead body on the tour last night?” One of them asked.

“We weren’t on a tour, and really weren’t involved at all. Perhaps your questions would be better directed toward the police, as I believe they are still investigating,” I said.

“Do you think Micah’s past might have something to do with it?” The other asked.

“Since we have nothing to do with the incident, I think that question is moot, right? It’s a bit like stumbling on a car crash. Just because we know how to drive doesn’t mean we were involved in the crash.” I used Lukas’s analogy hoping they’d go away. “I have the phone number for the detective in charge of the case if you’d like to speak to him directly, but neither Micah nor I have anything to give you.”

The men didn’t look happy with my answer.

“Would you like the number?” I repeated.

“No. They won’t give a statement to us anyway.”

I shrugged. “Guess you’re out of luck then. Have a good evening, gentlemen. I hope you enjoyed the tour. Please refer your friends.” I made my way to Micah’s side as the rest of the group scattered, heading off in different directions.

“I hope that we’re done for the night,” I told Micah. “’Cause I’m tired.” I looked down at my feet. “Maybe I need better shoes.”

“I used to wear one of those fitness watches,” Micah said as we walked down Decatur toward the Square. “Some days I’d clock twenty kilometers. Used to come back this way every night and stop to get beignets, could eat two whole plates to myself. I think I overdid it since I don’t care for them much anymore.”

“Is it open all night?”

“Yes. Did you want to stop?”

“Nah. They were okay, but nothing to write home about.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Micah asked. “So you don’t get lost?” He paused then added, “Or you can come home with me.”

My heart sped up a little. “I’m not sure what the right answer is here, though I do think I should walk you home at least.” I didn’t like the idea of him walking through his dark garden alone, even if whatever it was only showed up after three a.m.

“But would you find your way home if you did that?”

“Maybe?” I reached out and took his hand in mine, liking that he didn’t pull away. “Do you want me to go home?” I thought about that for a while when he didn’t answer. “If I go home, will you be working on some craft all night instead of sleeping?”

He shrugged. “I usually sleep a few hours. But I do have some ideas of stuff to make for you.”

“You’ve been hearing stuff nightly for the past few weeks.”

“Yes. It’s fine. I need to work on stuff anyway.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of some cool new coat or costume. “You don’t have to make me anything.”

“No, but I have ideas. It’s easier to get them out sometimes instead of keeping them in.”