Accession of the Stone Born: The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles (14 page)

She pursed her lips, giving me the stink eye. “That was terribly unrevealing!” She clucked, finished off her champagne and waved for the nearest waiter to bring another. “In that case, would you care to tell me what you did that kept you away from this great city for so long?”

My smile faded. Shaking my head, I sat my glass on the table. “I think that falls into the same category as my hand.”

With that answer she felt obliged to pick up two glasses. “That category being the one you don’t want to talk about?”

I touched my finger to my nose, indicating she’d guessed right. “Correct.”

She shook her head as her wry grin reappeared. “You’re definitely different than most of the men I know.”

“And how’s that?” I asked.

Heather’s face turned devilish, she shook her hair, allowing her sultry eyes to find mine. “You’re not tripping over yourself to please me.”

That wasn’t hard to believe. She had the face, body, and attitude that could melt most men. In a different world I might have been one of them, but my sins were far too great to be casually shared. “And this pleases you, I take it.”

She set her glass down with a snort. “God yes! There’s something so appealing about a man with a spine.”

The way she looked me over made me feel naked. Needless to say, I liked it. I liked it a lot, but she was drunk and whatever was on her mind wasn’t going to happen. Looking down at my watch, I considered the time and her sobriety. “Where do you live?”

The smile that crossed her lips spoke of passion. Waving a languid arm towards St. Charles, her eyes sparkled with lust. “I’m only a few blocks away.” She chewed her bottom lip in anticipation. “What’s on that mind of yours?”

Shaking my head, I said, “Nope!” I held my hand out in her direction and said, “If you were sober we would be having a much different conversation, but you’re not.” Still the thought of being twisted naked in the sheets with her swam through my mind. “Save whatever it is you’re thinking about until you’re single and sober.”

Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas, and the smile on her face couldn’t have spoken more clearly if she’d used a thousand words. “I’ve never been turned down before.” She pushed her chair back and waved me ahead of her. “I’m either far more drunk than I thought or I really like it! Either way, I’m good with it.”

Again, it wasn’t hard to believe her when she said such things. She was a beautiful woman, and I’d probably kick myself tomorrow. But the thought of taking advantage of a woman who was angry at one man and at the very least tipsy made me feel dirty. Not in that good fun way either. Not that I was against drinking and sex, but not for the first encounter.

She suddenly frowned, reached for her glass, and pounded it back. “As for ‘Brad.’ You need not concern yourself with him. The man is more in love with my father than me. He wouldn’t come to the wedding at the last second because he thought it would make our ‘relationship’ too serious.” She grimaced, grabbed the second flute, and took another drink. “He and my father may still have something going on, but as far as the two of us are concerned, we were over before anything ever got started.” She waved her hand at the other guests. “This was a pity date.”

I put my arm out to steady her before walking us towards the gate. “Let’s get you home, and perhaps tomorrow will be a better day.”

She looked back at the band again as she leaned her warm, soft body against mine and smiled. “I think today was pretty damn nice!”

A boyish smile came to me and I leaned my head against the top of hers for the briefest of moments. “It’s been a very nice evening.”

She nuzzled against me before pulling herself fully upright and waving a delicate hand towards the gate. “Our chariot awaits!”

Just a few feet from the gate I was nearly overcome by the exotic scent of jasmine all around us. It made me cough and my nose itch in irritation. “Do you smell that?”

Heather sniffed the air curiously and turned to me with a blank look. “McDonald's?”

Pulling a handkerchief from my pocket, I dabbed my nose, concerned she didn’t pick up the overpowering stench. “Nothing else?”

She took in another deep breath. “Just New Orleans....” She giggled. “What’s up?”

With the next breath my stomach rolled and threatened to revolt at the putrid odor. “It’s like jasmine gone bad.”

She looked around and made a face as she shook her head in mock disbelief. “You sure you haven’t been drinking?”

I wiped my nose again and stuffed the handkerchief back in my pocket. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She tugged at my arm and leaned against me. “You’re in an awful hurry to get me home and not do anything about it.”

I blushed. “That may be true, but I’d like to get you home nonetheless.”

The off duty policemen working the wedding detail waved us through, telling us to have a good night. All the while the smell continued to get stronger. I didn’t know why, but the scent had placed all my senses on high alert.

I heard the quiet thud of soft-soled shoes rapidly pounding the sidewalk behind us. My body tensing, I grabbed Heather in my far arm, swinging her around me and holding her at arm's length, which allowed me to spin around and face the runner. The small yet handsome Asian man barreling our way was barely five feet tall. The officer reached out for him, but the runner ducked and planted a palm into the man’s chest, sending him sprawling through the open gate where he landed hard on his back, slapping his head against the black stone walkway with a sickening crack.

The Asian man seemed at odds with himself, moving like a young man but appearing to be in his mid to late thirties. His bald head gleamed in the moonlight and his focus was on Heather. Increasing his speed, he pulled out a long silver dagger. He was fast, muscular, and most importantly, a threat.

Our attacker hadn’t anticipated Heather being spun around, several feet out of reach, and his blade pierced my coat and shirt, allowing its razor sharp edge to leave a long shallow gash across my ribs. It wasn’t life threatening, yet the warm blood trickling down my side was annoying and a little itchy. He pulled the blade back and flicked his wrist, and slamming the ridge of my hand against the man’s throat, I lifted him off the ground, propelling him several feet back.

He was unarmed now, the dagger seemingly vanishing from sight, and it registered in my mind that I hadn’t heard it hit the ground. Discovering the weapon’s whereabouts was secondary to handling the man who wielded it.

He fell back gracefully, pulling his knees up, rolling over his shoulders and neck back to his feet, prepared for a fight. He was dazed and slow, which was bad news for him. I sped towards him in a low footballer’s stance and he kicked out a foot, landing hard against my shoulder.

He wasn’t heavy enough to slow me down, and I grabbed the leg. Catching sight of the fence, I changed tactics. Forcing myself upright and pulling his leg along with me in a nasty twist, I heard it snap at the ankle and knee before I felt it give way as I pulled it from the socket. He lurched back as I swept a leg underneath him, forcing him around and allowing his face to plow into the wrought iron fence, which was forced downward with all his body weight and a good shove from me. A long black iron
fleur de lis
erupted from the back of the man’s head, causing him to convulse in an oddly rhythmic fashion for several seconds. Finally, the twitching stopped and he slumped against the fence with his knees on the sidewalk, resembling some sort of gruesome prayer to an uncaring god.

Suddenly the world sprang back to life with people screaming, others being sick, and yet more scattering in whichever direction would allow them to vacate the scene fastest. Two more off duty police officers who’d been working the same detail joined their friend, helping him to his feet.

It occurred to me that Heather wasn’t where I’d left her, and I looked back to find her laying on the ground with the silver dagger protruding from her stomach. Her mother was already atop her, carefully removing the foreign object before casually tossing it aside. It clanked against the pavement, skidding to a halt against the curb at a weird angle.

Stepping off the sidewalk, I stalked over to where Heather lay and twisted my ankle on a chunk of cement. Stumbling back, I stepped on the dagger, snapping it in two with a loud pop and a large bright green spark that made everyone jump.

Coming up behind her mother, I could see Kim applying pressure to her daughter’s wound. Heather shivered as sweat poured off her forehead. Taking a knee, I held Heather in one hand and put the other over the wound. Kim looked up at me before giving me a curt nod.

She pulled a phone out of her clutch and dialed 911. “This is Kimberly Broussard. There’s been a stabbing at the Elms Mansion on St. Charles. I need an ambulance dispatched straight away, and our destination is Touro.” She paused long enough to get whatever answer the operator gave her before hanging up and dialing another number. “Robert...Heather’s been injured. Gut wound. Prep the OR and be ready. We’ll be there shortly.” She paused again as sirens rang in the background. “I’ve got to go; the ambulance should be here any minute.”

She ended the call and looked up at me, really seeing me for the first time. She stuck a hand out and pulled back the jacket, revealing the blood soaked shirt. “You’ve been hurt.”

Glancing at my chest and then back to her, I tried to alleviate her concern. “It’s minor.” I looked down at Heather, who was in and out of consciousness. “Will she be all right?”

Kim’s face twisted in fear at the unknown. “I’m not sure, but the knife wasn’t too deep.” She grimaced as she looked at her daughter's stomach. “It’s a gut wound; it can go either way.”

I’d seen enough gut wounds over the years to know that she was right. People could get treatment right away but still go septic and die anyway.

Just then the paramedics pulled up and came to a screeching halt next to us. The first EMT jumped out and tried to muscle his way between Kim and Heather. “Excuse us, ma’am, we need to get in here.” He gave me a distasteful look and snarled. “You’ll need to step back as well.”

I gently lay Heather back, allowing the man to take my place just as Kimberly swelled to her full height. “You don’t recognize me because I’m not in scrubs today, but I know you.” The man shook his head. “I’m the head nurse for Touro, and in case the dispatcher didn’t inform you, that’s our destination.” She listed off Heather’s condition in great detail while the driver wrote down everything she said in a notebook.

I was getting to my feet when two of the officers came up with their hands on their pistols. The officer who’d been shoved to the ground was checking for the Asian man’s pulse. The fact that a large iron spike was sticking through the back of his head should’ve been the first clue the fucker was dead.

The bigger of the two officers in front of me looked down at Heather and then back at me. “We need to speak with you in private.”

They were poised and looking for a fight, so I just nodded and I held my hands out so they could see them. “All right, where are we headed?”

Kim whirled around on the officers as she reluctantly allowed the paramedics to move her daughter. She moved between me and the officers, wagging a finger at them. “You’re really going to harass a man who was nearly killed by someone you should’ve seen coming?” She glared at the man and then turned her attention back to me. “Don’t say a word. I’ve got to make a call.” Turning back to the officer, she growled. “You’ll want to answer your cell when it rings.”

She strode off and got in the back of the ambulance with one hand on her daughter and another holding the phone to her ear, leaving me to be escorted into the main house, where I was handcuffed and sat in the Louis XVI room. One of the officers stood at the door, while the other two attended to the mess outside.

The manager was going to be pissed about the bloodstains on the upholstered white furniture. The cut wasn’t too deep but I’d probably need a couple of stitches. I wasn’t about to inspect the wound given the situation. Weird thing was I’d either gotten used to the blood trickling down my chest or it had stopped. I was hoping for stopped. That would mean fewer stitches. At this point, however, it was never going to close properly since it wasn’t being tended to right away.  I’d bled through my shirt and jacket and was sitting in blood soaked pants, very uncomfortable.

A few minutes later the officer standing guard jumped when his phone rang. He fumbled around in his pocket before retrieving the phone and answering it.

“Hello?” He paused. “Yes sir.... I know, but....” He looked back at me and shook his head before looking at the couch and groaning. “Yeah, he’s hurt too, but I....” He held the phone away from his ear as I heard crackling and a squeaky voice saying things I couldn’t make out. “I’ll tend to it right away.” He paused and put his ear back to the phone. “It’s cut and dry…I saw the whole thing, but we couldn’t.... Yes sir. I'll make sure I apologize.” He glowered back at me, shaking his head, letting me know that wasn’t going to happen. “Thank you, sir. I’ll file the paperwork before I leave for the night.”

He stalked over to me, pulling out a set of keys. “Hands.” I held out them out and he removed the cuffs. “You’ll need to have someone look at that.” He pointed at my chest. “I’m not calling an ambulance for you. If it was that bad you would’ve said something earlier.”

Rubbing my wrists, I stood and nodded. I wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t piss the guy off further. “Stay safe tonight.”