Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

KILLIAN

Lafitte's sits on the corner of Bourbon and St. Philip. The gray stone building is worn with patches of brick exposed. A metal sign proclaiming LAFITTE'S BLACKSMITH SHOP BAR juts out of the side of the building. But the words are also etched into the stone near the door. Beau strides forward confidently. I admire his bravery, but maybe I need to be clearer about the danger.

Inside the building, the décor suggests we've gone back in time. Wood beams on the ceiling. Stone floors. Red brick interior walls. Even the bar is made of brick. A large fireplace, made of the same brick and blackened by use, takes up the center of the room. It's not as big as I would expect.

A few people sit at tables. More wander around. I grab Beau's arm before he can go farther.

"What do we do now?"

He glances around as if looking for something before settling on a point across the room. "I know some people. Come on."

The bar curves and Beau leads me to the second area. A Black girl around Beau's age with tight red ringlets cascading to her shoulders is serving drinks. When she finishes with her customers, she approaches us.

"My, my. It's Beau—in the light of day. And here I thought you were a real vampire."

"Funny, Firenza. I'm here for…" His eyes stray to the other bar. The man tending the bar glares at them while Beau nods and waves. Another scowl and he turns back to a customer.

"A drink," Firenza says with a nod, slamming a glass down and pouring a dark liquid. "Why else would you be bothering me. At my job. At a bar."

Her eyebrow rises and her piercing catches the light. Beau pulls out money and sets it on the wooden countertop.

"Were y'all busy last night?"

"It was a Friday night. During the peak of tourist season. You do the math."

"Right. Of course." He drinks from the glass and clears his throat. "Did you see anyone or anything interesting?"

The woman lets out a sigh that sounds weary even to me. "This is N'awlins. There's always something interesting going on. And yet, it's still the same old bullshit." She wipes off the top of the bar. "What's going on, Beau?"

He shrugs. "Just having a drink and making chitchat."

The crooked smile on his face is meant to charm her. His dimples and blue eyes do their job admirably. The woman shakes her head but smiles almost against her will.

Her gaze moves to me. "Well, you see, Beau, you need to be more specific. Interesting like Lady Godiva over there or interesting like the dead body?"

Beau stands taller, hand tightening on the glass, but his voice remains casual. "Dead body?"

She shifts and leans over the bar, bringing her closer. "Down at the Masonic Temple cemetery. A body that's not supposed to be there. People been talking about it all morning. Not the tourists, but the locals."

She glances at me again. "Your friend here got everyone else's attention." Her eyes travel over me, and I don't like it. "George was going to call the police, but I convinced him the guy was drunk. Not like we haven't seen naked tourists before."

The tingle down my spine reaches me before the whispered voices. "This is a waste of time. The stamp proves he was at The Dungeon. Just because Beau works there?—"

"We'll get to it. Stop being a lazy shit."

I step back to see them. A flash of blue by the door confirms it. I grab Beau's arm, but he shakes me off. This time, I grab and don't let go. He turns and scowls. "Bruh?—"

"We have to go." I nod to the front. "The police are here."

"So? They're always here…"

I lower my voice. "They're looking for us."

Beau casually peeks around me. Still smiling, he says, "Can't go out that way."

Firenza sighs and nods toward a door that reads EMPLOYEES ONLY . "Come on."

She ushers us out a back door that spills onto Philip Street. "Be careful, Beau." Her look for me is less affectionate, but she grins. "You too, Lady Gaga."

"I don't know what that means," I say to Beau. I hate being in the dark about everything. He ignores me and focuses on the path in front of us.

As we walk the several blocks to Beau's car, I assess for danger. My body tenses as I focus on everything around me. No police. No angry yelling or shouting, although the sounds of people cheering drift down from a balcony full of people. We walk past a man sitting on a stoop. He appears harmless as he holds his head and moans. The intoxicating scent of freshly baked bread from a bakery mixes with the smell of stale alcohol. The sidewalk is stained with things that have been spilled. Today? It rained last night.

A street performer drums on buckets, drowning out the voices of the crowd. My body starts to relax as we get closer to the car.

The sound of trumpets grabs my attention. The music is coming from a bar across the street: Fritzel's European Jazz Pub. I recognize the song even though I can't name it. It feels like a warm hug. A shared laugh. Comforting but also exciting. I'm halfway across the street when Beau grabs my arm.

"Killian?"

"The music…"

His eyes dart to the car and back. "We have to go."

I nod. He's right. We don't have time for this. Disappointment sits heavy in my stomach as he guides me away, and I only glance back once.

Once we're back in the car, he pulls away from the street and lets out a loud sigh.

I push away my feelings of loss and focus on what's important: keeping Beau safe.

"Are we going to The Dungeon or the cemetery?"

His mouth opens and then snaps shut as he flashes me a look. "The Dungeon?"

"Your place of employment."

"You've been keeping secrets from me. Again."

I wipe my hands on the joggers. "I didn't want to worry you."

We weave through traffic, stopping at stop signs and lights.

"Did you know about the body?" he asks, gripping the steering wheel until his fingers are white.

"The rookie mentioned it."

He shoots me a glare. "And you didn't think someone dying was important?"

"People die. And she didn't say the person was dead. I didn't want to assume."

"Why would—" He makes a frustrated sound and shakes his head.

Quiet fills the car until I can't take it anymore. "Were you working last night?"

"Yes."

"Did you see anything strange?"

"I somehow missed you. But no dead bodies lying around either."

I nod. "So, we're going to the graveyard?"

"Dammit, no."

"But—"

"It's an active crime scene."

"You don't know that. A body could mean anything. It could be a dead animal."

His jaw works and then he turns left so unexpectedly that I'm thrown against the door. "I'm turning around at the first sign of police."

I'm fine with that. I don't trust the police. "Do you have air conditioning?" The car is unbearably hot. And a tight fit. My knees bump against the console, and I feel closed in.

"No."

When he doesn't offer anything further, I roll my window down. Warm air floods the car, and it's marginally better. At least it's easier to breathe. Beau stares straight ahead, not saying a word.

We don't get far. Police cars cluster at a spot I assume is the main entrance. An officer is stopping cars and detouring them in a different direction.

"Pull over."

"What?" Beau asks. "Why?"

"Any place that won't be suspicious."

He mutters something about turning the car around and damn naked men but pulls into a brewery off the main road.

The area seems quiet at this time of day. Birds chirp. Cars honk and zoom past, then slow down when the police come into view.

"What's the plan? Are you just going to listen in?" He waves his fingers around his ears.

"No. There are too many sounds to isolate. I need to get in the cemetery."

"Okay, I guess. There's another entrance, but that will also be covered. I know a secret access point off Conti Street."

I laugh, and it's unexpected. But a wild and rebellious Beau does things to me. "Why am I not surprised?"

He grins and reaches for the door. My fleeting happiness is gone. I grab his arm. "I need you to stay here."

"But you said?—"

"Just tell me how to get in." Why does he throw himself into dangerous situations? I trace his mutinous brow with my thumb. "You're so brave."

He laughs. "I'm not, really. At least according to my parents."

"They hurt you?" I try to keep the growl in. The thought of anyone hurting Beau makes me angry, and I need to remain calm.

"They ignored me. Much worse. But my father is gone now, so it doesn't matter."

"Beau."

My words are barely a whisper and not nearly enough to convey my feelings. But that doesn't matter because Beau surges forward and kisses me. I get lost in the feel of him. The taste of him. His scent calls to the beast inside me. I pull back and hide my face. Did he see?

But a quick glance reassures me. His lips are puffy, and his eyes are closed. And I can't help but kiss him again.

This time, when I pull away, I climb out of the car. "Stay here, Beau. I can't let anything happen to you."

He shakes his head, and I'm not sure what it means. But we're running out of time, so I take off and head for the graveyard.