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Nothing Stays Dead in the South

🇺🇸TayeSteele
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Synopsis
Vol. 2 coming mid-december! New Orleans. A place where it's hard to separate fact from superstition - or at least that's what Jolene Huxley finds when the unassuming small-town girl inherits a mansion in The Big Easy. Eager to leave her pained past behind, she's all too ready to start a new adventure on her own. What Jolene finds is that she's landed herself in the middle of a war that's been brewing for centuries, and the moment she meets Azreal - she knows she was fated to be right here, right now. But who were the players on both sides? Can she figure out what part she plays before it's too late?
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Chapter 1 - XIII

"So, what's with the suit?" Ronaldo asks as we're strolling through the tombs in St Louis number one.

"That's Bentley. He's my….security." As requested, Bentley is following several yards behind us, but of course, Ronaldo noticed that we're being followed by a huge dude in a suit.

"I didn't know you were famous, mon chéri." Ronaldo's eyebrows dance with mirth. "Should I be asking for your autograph?"

I reward his lighthearted prodding with a giggle. "No, I'm not famous. But, I am wealthy and I've run into a bit of trouble since moving here. So, Bentley," I say motioning broadly behind me.

We continue the stroll, with Ronaldo pointing out a few notable graves. When we came upon Marie Laveau's gravesite, I felt a tense wave of sorrow. The only explanation I can think of is that she truly was the Voodoo Queen everyone said she was and that the feeling I was experiencing was something akin to my ability to sense those with supernatural abilities. The urge to reach out and touch the grave was overwhelming, but Ronaldo was very clear that we weren't allowed to touch anything. Even though it was just the two of us, we were still considered an official guided tour, since Ronaldo's other job is doing cemetery tours.

"This is Nic Cage's grave," he said as we approached a particularly baffling pyramid that seems so out of place with the rest of the old sacred tombs.

The look of pure confusion painting my features makes Ronaldo give a low chortle before he elaborates further. "He's not in it yet, but he paid for it and had it built for when the time comes."

I cock my head to the side in consideration. "Huh. Apparently, he feels very strongly about being interred here. To each their own," I shrug a shoulder.

We continue walking a little further as I sip at the water Ronaldo made me bring. I'm grateful for his forethought because I'm in the hot sun in my little black dress. When I left dressed for a confrontation with Azrael I didn't give much consideration to the fact that I had already made plans with Ronaldo to visit this particular cemetery today. Thankfully I did think to pack my flats or this would have been a very arduous experience.

Ronaldo continues to regale me with stories about the cemetery, such as how it was built due to the great fire of 1788 and plague that devoured the city. Living somewhere with such a deep and interesting history is enriching to the soul.

Coming from Montana, our history is about one hundred years less interesting, given the fact that it wasn't founded until the late eighteen-hundreds. In our history classes, it was hard to dress up the history enough to even warrant a class dedicated to it, but somehow they made due. I'm sure that Louisianna schools don't have that problem.

"So, what's your story, Ronaldo? Where are you going to be buried?" I stop to take a photo of a breathtaking tomb that shows its age in the crumbling grey bricks breaking free of their mortar.

"I'm not originally from here, so my family doesn't have a tomb. If I were to die today my relatives would probably come from Puerto Rico for my remains. But, who knows what the future may bring. I might prefer to be buried in New Orleans, but getting a spot in this beautiful place is challenging. As you can see, it has full occupancy." His sweet side smile is a nice comfort. "What about you, mon chéri?"

The question urges my thinking down a path I haven't yet traveled. If I were to die right now, I'm full of Azrael's blood. I would turn. If I were to turn, then I wouldn't be able to complete this absolutely absurd prophecy, and there would be no more war. Similarly, if I were to die without blood in my system - the problem would be solved. Or, I could just take off. Of course, Azrael has had my blood so he would be able to find me.

I take a deep breath, realizing I've not yet answered Ronaldo's question. "I don't know. I don't think it matters much to me where I end up in the end."

"Where I come from, where you are buried and how you are buried are very important. You might want to give some thought about it." His seriousness takes me off-guard. We stop between the rows of tombs as I consider him.

"Ok. I'll think about it." This seems to appease him. He gives me a gentle nod before we continue our wandering. Soon, though, the sun begins to fall lower in the sky, and Ronaldo moves to take us to the exit.

"We can't be here after dark, so we'll go. I can take you to Lafayette next time. You'll love it, too."

"Why can't we be here after dark?"

"It's not safe."

I look back to Bentley, who I know can hear out conversation regardless of how far back he is. He sets his mouth in a hard line and gives me a nod, confirming that yes, we should definitely not be here after dark. I make it a mental note to ask more about this another time.

Ronaldo drove me home, despite Bentley insisting that he could do it. Really, I was just making a point now. It didn't matter, but I just wanted to have my own choice. I should probably apologize to Bentley at some point. He has been nothing but wonderful to me. Sweet and kind. But he's had to bear the brunt of most of my outbursts. I'll have to make him cookies or something. Do vampires eat? Can they have chocolate? Can werewolves have chocolate? They're part canine. I roll my eyes at my own line of thoughts.

I get out of the car with a promise from Ronaldo that he and his wife will come to dinner sometime next week. I'm not sure how I'm going to explain the craziness that is currently going on in my house, but he invited me to dinner first but it seemed to make more sense that I feed them, instead. After all, I have a cook and a giant dining room that isn't seeing as much use as it should. This grand house needs some fun.

When I walk in the door, I catch sight of Cole sitting at the desk in the office sorting through some papers.

"Will you call Azrael and let him know you're home safe?"

I quirk an eyebrow in challenge. I don't owe Azrael a damn thing. "Can't he just sense that I'm home safe?"

Cole blows out a breath between pursed lips. I can tell that he's reaching his limit for the amount of my attitude he can take today, but tough shit. I'm still angry, and I think I deserve to be. I've had a lot thrown on my shoulders in a very short period and I think I'm actually coping with it quite well, thank you.

"Look, Cole. I'm not calling him. I don't owe him anything. We're friends at best, and even that is a stretch right now." I start towards the desk. "What are you working on?"

"I'm working on trust for a client, right now." He pinches the bridge of his nose in such a way that I can tell he's been staring at these papers for too long. Perhaps an olive branch is in order.

"It's getting late, mister junior partner. Want to have a drink on the porch? Chill out?"

His warm smile returns to his face. "I lied about the junior partner thing. I've owned my own firm for as long as I can remember. Sorry." I wave off his apology. That's the least of my concerns at the moment."But yes, let's do that. The client in question is young enough that I doubt he's going to keel over before I finish this anyway."

He stands joining me as we go to the dining room, which is where I've started keeping the good booze. Now that we have a few staff in the house the kitchen has become quite the hub of activity. It is where the coffee pot is, after all. And Abigail is always doing something in there. I didn't know it was possible to keep yourself busy in the kitchen twenty-four-seven.

"Is Abigail a vampire?"

He takes a low breath in, raising his eyebrows, obviously not expecting the question. "No, actually. Abigail is the only human staff - other than the gardeners, that is. But she knows everything. She's friends of the fold. Like Chloe."

I nod. "So, if everyone other than Abigail and I are vampires, who the hell is she cooking for all the time?"

Laughter bursts from Cole and I can't help but join him. "We eat. I happen to love food, actually. We just don't require it to survive the way you do. If I were to never eat again it wouldn't make a difference."

The conversation between us is easy, and reminiscent of the friendship we had before everything. B Sometimes I need to remind myself who my friends are. And sometimes I need to remind myself that it's good to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

I just can't decide who's friend, and who is foe.