10. Hotel Royal

Hotel Royal

I turned away from the riverfront. I didn't want to think about Luc. I couldn't. No matter what happened with him, I couldn't go back to gambling. I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do with my life before I could even think about helping him. If I got my shit together, maybe I could get that payment. Somehow. Though I was clueless at the moment.

Wandering around the French Quarter has often been inspirational in my life. So much was always going on. Tourists come here all year round. The partying never ended, but that wasn't my scene. Artists plied their wares along the outskirts of Jackson Square, and I loved seeing their creativity. At this time of night, though, a lot of them were packing up to go home.

Without thinking about it much, I wandered around, finding myself near Lafitte's Blacksmith shop. I'd avoided it earlier, not wanting Luc to deal with spirits that might have been there. He had mentioned talking with others, but I was selfish and wanted him all to myself. It was the oldest building in the Quarter, so I was sure if anywhere had other spirits, it would be that bar. Farther down the road, a tour group was listening to their guide talking about all the horrors of the city. Murder and mayhem on the menu. I chuckled. It was history. Our history. On sale for whoever was interested enough to buy into it.

The city grew darker, but it was never completely dark. The street lamps, either electric made to look like gas or the real deal, came on. I passed a three-story brick with fancy balconies decorated with Mardi Gras banners and ribbons. Another with massive ferns dripping over the railings and rainbow flags flying. I might have been walking the blocks in circles, but it didn't matter. I loved this city. Loved living here. The flavor, the color, the history. But sometimes, it felt like it chewed me up and spit me back out.

What was I doing? I walked by CC's Coffee House and stood at the corner, staring at the buildings across the way and their lovely architecture. I was pretty sure one was a hotel, though it had a fancy art gallery on the first floor. And my favorite vampire strolled right out of it. He saw me and crossed the street.

"You following me now?" he asked, but he held out his hand, so I shook it.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing. But I'm not following you."

"You know, they made that stupid TV show about us there." He flicked his wrist back the way he'd come. "That's the building they used for a lot of the scenes. One across town they used for the opening. It's prettier. Odd I find you here." He shrugged.

"Not so odd, maybe. This whole city is vampire crazy."

"Indeed." He looked at me, tilting his head. "How's your spirit friend? Luc, I believe you said?"

"I've put the ring away. The one that allows me to see him."

"So…" He looked confused. Well, I was confused, too. "Why?"

I sighed. "I can't face him. I can't figure out payment for Lady G., the mambo. And I can't even manage my life. I'm broke. I can't gamble. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"How'd you manage before?"

"Nothing I've ever done has been enough. New Orleans is not cheap. Why do you think there are so many homeless?"

"I thought it was to feed me." He grinned, baring a little fang.

I shook my head at his stupid joke. "Speaking of that, Carlos let you off your chain?"

Sloane gave a fake laugh. "You're hysterical. I'm never on anyone's chain—but I was actually hoping I'd find you. I have something for you. Turns out Carlos adores me, and our arrangement has been very beneficial." He pulled a small backpack from his back and zipped it open. "Here." He shook a velvet pouch at me.

"What's this?" I took it, feeling its weight.

"It's for your Luc. It's very valuable."

I opened the pouch and peered inside. A stone rested in the luxurious material. I pulled it out, the streetlight shone down on it, making the red sparkle. "A ruby?"

"Yes, but this is no ordinary gem, my friend. No. This is the Blood Stone. The right witch, or in this case, voodoo queen, can store immense amounts of power in this." He tapped it with a long fingernail painted black.

"Where did you get it?"

"Like I said. Carlos adores me. Turns out, he had it. He can't really do anything with it. It's too precious to cut or set. So I asked him for it."

"He's not going to come looking for me for it?" That was the last thing I needed, Marcello on my ass again.

"No. Not ever. Now take this and go fix your Luc. And afterward, I'd like to hear him play. I've heard he's fantastic. That sounds like fair payment to me."

I couldn't say a thing. Not a word. My throat was tight, closing up and threatening to choke me. I nodded. I put the stone back in the bag, and as I tucked it in my front pocket, I whispered, "We can do that."

Sloane clapped my shoulder. "Good."

Then he was gone as if he'd never been there. I didn't even see which way he went. But he'd given me such a gift. And more than he even realized. He'd given me hope.

Maybe—just maybe—we could figure out how to make enough money to survive. If Luc wasn't too pissed at me.

I pulled the ring out of my pocket.

And put it back on.