VenCo(103)

She looked around the room, the windows shuddering from the movement above, the whoosh and suck of the monitors and the oxygen machine. Christos was still screaming about what he was going to do to her and how he was going to do it, but all she heard instead was her mother’s voice.

Sometimes you need fire to make sure the bad shit can’t come back.





31

Lucky Number Seven




Lucky was a block away when the oxygen canister blew.

In classic New Orleans style, the neighbours arrived with breakfast cocktails before the fire trucks did. Some would swear they heard screaming, but the coroner ruled that Gerard Dumont had already been dead for at least a day at the time of the explosion. Some said they saw someone leave through the flames, maybe the old man’s spirit itself. Soon, an out-of-town architect would buy the land, clear the rubble, and rebuild with a modern eye, much to the chagrin of the traditionalists in the neighbourhood.

Lucky walked through the bright heat of the morning back to the hotel. She didn’t check her phone or flag a cab, she just walked. Even though the clock was still ticking on finding the last witch, she needed some time to reconcile everything that had just happened. She, Lucky St. James, had secured the spoon, used magic, and committed arson, not to mention murder. All the way back to the Quarter, she carried the seventh spoon in her hand, checking every few blocks that it was real. She didn’t even realize that she had been crying until she stopped crying, somewhere around Canal Street.

Walking into the air-conditioned reception area of the Olivier House was such a reprieve, she stopped to appreciate the cool air and quiet. Passing the front desk, she saw her name on a piece of paper.

Message for Lucky St. James, Room 107. Call Meena Good ASAP



Why was Meena leaving messages at the front desk? She took her phone out of her back pocket and realized she hadn’t turned it on since the cemetery. She did that now, as she crossed the courtyard.

Seven voicemails. Six missed text messages, two of them from Theodore, the rest from Meena. She hit call on the last notification.

“Lucky? Hello?” Meena sounded out of breath.

“Yes, I just got back to the hotel.”

“Oh Jesus, you’re alive.” She started to laugh.

“I’m alive. And I got the spoon.”

“You got the spoon! Oh for fuck’s sakes—that’s great news!”

Lucky heard the sound of screams and clapping in the background.

“Yup, it’s right here in my hand.”

“Okay, listen, we found where the witch is, maybe . . . probably. It’s not far.”

“She’s here in New Orleans?”

“Freya’s dream-map says the witch is in Lafitte, just south of the city, about a forty-five-minute drive. If you leave now, you’ll be there before lunch. You’ll have a few hours to search before you’d have to hop on a plane and bring her back here.”

“Okay, okay, got it. Do we have an address? Even a name, maybe?” She put her key in the lock, then realized that the door was open. Classic Stella move.

“No, we don’t. But we do know one thing—you need to wear the brooch.”

“What brooch?” Lucky turned into the first-floor bathroom.

“The one you wore in your hair the first night you were here, the crazy one. You have it with you, right?”

Lucky rummaged around in the mess of their stuff on the sink. A hair dryer, toothpaste with the cap left off, toothbrushes, a washcloth, and, yes, her small bag with a few cosmetics and jewelry. She unzipped it and dug around. “Got it.”

“Okay, thank you, Goddess. I want you to pin it on your shirt right now, so you don’t forget.”

Lucky did as she was told, her T-shirt sagging under the weight of it. “Umm, I’ve got it on, but what for?”

“I’m not really sure. All I know is that it has something to do with this.”

“Okay, look, I gotta go. I need to wake Stella first, and get her ready, and then we’ll hit the road.” There was always just one more step . . .

“Lucky, we’re going to go ahead and reserve three seats on a flight back. Let us know as soon as you find her.”

“Right. I’ll text you when we get to Lafitte.” And Lucky hung up.

She had just tucked the spoon back into her bra when there was a knock on the door.

She opened it, and there was Theo on the doorstep, smiling. “Oh, good, you’re up. Aunt Aggie wants to know if Stella would be so kind as to join her in the parlor for some breakfast coffee and Kahlúa.”

“Morning, Theo.” Lucky returned the smile. “Sorry, but we gotta head out today. I was just about to start packing up.”

“Oh no!”

“I’m sure we’ll be back—Stella loves this place.” She turned and yelled up the stairs, “Stella, you decent? We gotta hit the road. Theo’s here, so you can go say your goodbyes to Aggie first.”

Silence.

“Stella, you awake?” Lucky started up the stairs. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

The bed was empty.

“No!” Lucky yelled, and Theo came pounding up the stairs. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s gone. You didn’t see her this morning?”