How to Date a Werewolf (16 page)

As I placed my foot on the threshold to walk out, the priestess grabbed my arm and pulled me back. If her touch hadn’t been light and somewhat gentle, I might have screamed.

“I know what you are,” she whispered out of earshot from customers.

“Excuse me? What are you talking about?” I jerked my shoulder back.

“Don’t worry--I’m not going to tell anyone.” She moved back a few steps. The motion was so fast--she might have glided.

“I don’t understand.” A nervous grin curved my mouth. I didn’t know if I should believe her.

“I won’t tell anyone you’re a werewolf.” She spoke softly.

I searched her eyes for an answer as to how she knew. But I realized I didn’t want to know. Some things are better left unspoken.

“Beware of those who lurk in the shadows. Things are not what they seem. You are too trusting.”

“Um... Thank you. I’m going to skedaddle now.” It was all I could say. She had delivered a puzzling message, and to be honest, I wasn’t all that surprised. She was enigmatic, her movements and presence. Although, what I’d expected to find in the voodoo shop hadn’t been there. Yes, the place oozed with a scary vibe, but there wasn’t a fire with zombies dancing around with snakes and so on. God, I hate zombies. But that was a whole other topic.

A man brushed past. He turned his head my way. With dark sunglasses covering his eyes, I couldn’t be sure if his gaze followed me. But a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach told me he monitored every move I made. My mind said don’t stare, but I couldn’t help myself. I inched away from the priestess, wanting to exit immediately.

If I’d felt strange before, I felt downright sick when the man walked in. His suit looked somewhat wrinkled. Despite that, his expression read all business. He marched down several aisles, but didn’t look at any of the merchandise. He kept his head angled in my direction--all the while, I watched him.

The priestess nodded, and without hesitation I stepped out onto the street where Jennifer waited for me. “What took you so long?” I didn’t answer. “See, that totally helped. I bet this curse business will be over in no time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” My mind swirled with thoughts about the strange-looking man and how the priestess knew about me. Her words left me scratching my head. I’m sure she knew there were vampires and werewolves around her, but how did she know I was one of them? And what did the warning mean?

Nonetheless, she had offered advice about my curse problem. And if I believed what Jennifer said about voodoo and religion, then I guess she was a spiritual person in general. So her knowing I was a werewolf wouldn’t be completely out of the question. Her advice, what little I could interpret, made me not as fearful to return to her store, regardless of the perceived creepiness. I’d been in a voodoo shop and survived. But the man who just so happened to step out from the shop behind me mere seconds after I left increased my trepidation all over again. He fell in sync with our pace. Not too close, but enough I knew his moves were calculated. With the entrance to our apartment in sight, I grabbed Jennifer’s arm and hurried her along--increasing our stride.

“What’s the rush?”

If I told her a man was following us, she’d turn around.

“I have a date. Gotta hurry.”

“Wow, you are excited.”

“Yeah, yeah. I am.” I practically pulled her down the sidewalk.

We reached the door. I turned around for a quick glance and he was gone.

Chapter 10

How to Date a Werewolf Rule # 10:

Going for a moonlight stroll is strongly discouraged.

After showering, dressing in jeans and a billowing white blouse, then spraying on my favorite perfume, I considered myself ready for an evening of ghouls and guys. All right, one guy, but he was all I needed. And not too many ghouls, I hoped. The amulet and gris-gris bag set on the nightstand. I stared at the necklace, contemplating whether I should really wear it. There was no time to think about it now, though, so I left it beside the bed.

“What are you wearing?” Jennifer inquired from the hallway.

Had I suddenly slipped back in time? Was I living with my mother again?

“Jeans, Ma.”

“Very funny.” Jennifer peeked through the cracked door. She scanned me from the tip of my freshly painted toes to my somewhat frizzy head. Sizing my outfit selection up and down.

“Why is it you seem to think I’m always on the cusp of being a fashion disaster? One of those makeover shows is gonna show up any day now, huh?”

“No, don’t be silly.”

“Have I ever given you reason to feel this way? Have I?”

“No. It’s just...” She fidgeted.

“It’s just what? You’re worried something I wear will screw things up with Jack? Let me tell you I have bigger problems than what to wear. When it doesn’t work out--and it won’t work out--it won’t be because of my outfits.”

“Well, you look cute, so that outfit will be fine.”

All righty. In one ear and out the other with her.

The sun would set soon, and the time to meet Jack quickly approached. The moon would pop up, almost completely full, only two days left until the wolf inside me emerged. Lily too. Would her behavior become even worse?

I made a mental checklist of items needed in my handbag for the evening: new razors, shaving cream, aftershave balm, and Moon-over-Miami lipstick, my favorite shade, purely a coincidence the title held the word
moon
, of course.

“Have fun. Be ready for some chick-chicka-boom,” Jennifer sang. Her hips swayed, and I prayed I’d never see that little jig again.

“All right, I’m gonna have to ask you to never utter that phrase again. Oh, and never do the dance, either,” I said with the most serious expression I could muster.

Jennifer tossed the pillow from my bed. I ducked and laughed.

“You’d better be wearing some of the new merchandise. None of those granny things,” she warned.

“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.”

A rap came from the front door. My heart thumped as I opened it. Jack stood with a huge smile on his face. He looked great as usual--wearing jeans and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tanned, muscular forearms.

“You look better every time I see you,” Jack said with a wink.

“Thank you.”

Funny, I thought the same about him. Every time I saw him, I had to try to stop myself from picturing him without clothing. My imagination would often drift to scenes of us tangled between sheets. Reminded me of a dog in heat. No pun intended.

“Are you ready for this?” I asked.

Jack guided me to the stairs. “I’m ready. What about you? How do you feel about ghosts and other spooky creatures?”

If he only knew.

His spicy scent played with my mind yet again. I should have grabbed him right then and there and placed a fat, wet kiss on his lips.

“Um. I believe in them. What about you?” If he knew he was dating a spooky creature, what would he do? Probably run for his life. Or would he embrace the existence of another world?

“I’m not sure. I’m a bit of a skeptic,” he said, his voice warm and soothing. I wanted to melt into his arms. Hormones talking.

He held the door open, and I walked out onto the sidewalk.

Since the tour started so close to where we lived, walking was ideal. We fell into a nice pace and Jack’s fingers brushed against mine. He then gently clasped my hand. Somewhere in the distance, blues music played and the sound swirled in the air, circling us. The scent of jasmine wafted from nearby courtyards, adding to the southern ambiance. And for one brief moment, it made me forget who I really was and why love couldn’t be mine.

The night was sure to be both mysterious and romantic. The French Quarter holds a definite mystique, and I let that magic take hold of me. Nothing would get in my way of spending a glorious evening with Jack, and I’d think about the future tomorrow. Tonight, I wanted to enjoy Jack’s company. Nothing more. Certainly not the mattress stomp like Jennifer suggested. Or was that mattress romp? Whatever. I would erase all thoughts of making love from my sex-starved brain.

After a couple of minutes of walking, we made our way to the starting point for the tour, located in front of a quaint coffee shop. It was a picturesque place with small tables and wrought-iron chairs to match. No matter how long I lived there, I never tired of seeing the fabulous architecture through the narrow streets of the Big Easy.

“Wow, this building is amazing.” Jack pointed and we peered up at the old building beside us. Its intricate ironwork adorning the windows called our attention.

“We’ll pass a ton on the tour. All just as striking as that one,” I said.

Folks had already gathered, killing time until the start.

The small group consisted of people from all walks of life. An older couple stood nearby. The man held a map and the woman had a camera dangling from her neck.

“Where y’all from?” the man asked.

“Oh, we’re from here,” I said. “What about you?”

“Kentucky. We’re here on a second honeymoon,” the lady said. They glowed like newlyweds.

“How romantic.”

I prayed I’d look as good in thirty years as they did. If my mother’s wild story about sex leading to wrinkles were true, I’d be good to go. The couple snuggled up.

Another couple held hands, while waiting for the tour to begin. They whispered in each other’s ears, which made me a tad bit jealous of their obvious true love. A group of three teenagers, all girls, wide-eyed and ready for the spooky activities, paced along the front of the building. The girls all had the same long brown hair. For all I knew, they were sisters. One nibbled at her nails--the other two smacked gum. Our tour guide, a youngish guy probably in his early twenties, bounded toward us full of energy, and I wondered if I’d be able to keep up with his pace. His rumpled black hair and pale skin added to the mysterious image he apparently wanted to present. Very vampirish.

“Welcome to the Ghost Tour of New Orleans.” He waved his arms in dramatic emphasis. “We’ll be taking a walk back in time this evening. Exploring the history and sinister secrets of New Orleans. We’ll be visiting many sites around the French Quarter.” He’d obviously recited the words a few times before.

Our guide passed out flashlights as he continued the monologue.

Jack winked and squeezed my hand. “Are you scared yet?”

Um. Sure. I’d go along with the game. Maybe I’d get some extra snuggling out of it too. “I am. This is so scary. I hope a ghost doesn’t get us.” I shivered for emphasis.

The sun still gleamed down on us, but before the tour ended it would be dark. I wondered if any supernatural creatures really would make an appearance. I’d heard all the stories before, so I wasn’t completely paying attention to everything. Jack listened, but made comments and chitchatted along the way. The girls giggled. Out of fear, I guessed.

“Don’t be afraid...Vampires...” The guide continued to narrate the scary legends as we neared yet another romantically foreboding building. The girls let out a gasp and giggled more when he lurched at them to add a spook factor to their tour. Jack chuckled, and I took advantage of the situation and moved closer to him. He snuggled me into the crook of his arm a little tighter. Dusk settled around us with lavender streaks lining the sky. Our guide flicked on his flashlight and instructed us to do the same.

We made our way to the cemetery. I lost count of how many blocks we traveled. With Jack beside me, how could I pay attention to my location? Huge iron gates stretched open, welcoming us to the subdivision for the dead. We filed through and waited for our guide to start again. The group nestled so closely they looked as if they could have been from an episode of
Scooby Doo
.

Aboveground crypts filled the space around us, which to me seemed eerily beautiful. The guide began to recount stories of the deceased, and each one of us hung on to his every word. We weaved in and out of the gravestones, and I scanned the area for any sign of ghosts. We eased our way through, careful to avoid the jagged, torn-up pavement. The guide’s stories I’d heard many times, but never grew tired of them.

“Look around and you can see why New Orleans’s famous cemeteries are called Cities of the Dead. To this day, over ninety percent of New Orleans’s graves are aboveground, some in family crypts. And now we’re at the most famous tomb in the entire city--”

“Oh, I’ve heard of this. It’s Marie Laveau,” one of the teenage girls said.

He didn’t appear bothered by the interruption. “Yes. The Famous Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. Her tomb is located right here and it’s haunted.” He paused for reaction.

Their eyes widened, but no one said a word.

“Rumor has it the queen’s secret voodoo society is alive and active, in spite of her death. As you can see, loyal devotees regularly visit her tomb.”

He pointed at the shrine around her vault. Burnt-out candles sat in front of the crypt along with other voodoo paraphernalia and offerings.

After everyone studied the grave, we moved on again. About midway down the paved path, as I stood between a couple of ornate vaults, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow zip by. I didn’t mention the sighting to Jack. I’d wait for him to witness the ghosts on his own. A few seconds later, it happened again, and I knew I wasn’t imagining things. I’d seen ghosts before so I shrugged it off--no biggie. At least I assumed ghosts were responsible. Bloodsuckers could very well have been to blame. Vampires were known for their practical jokes.

More giggling ahead and the spooky stories continued. The girls would jump out of their skin if they actually saw a ghost. Jack and I moved along the passageway that meandered through the cemetery. We trailed behind the others just a few steps. After a brief pause in front of one of the many vaults, the rest of our group moved forward. I stayed back to tie my shoe. Jack stepped a few feet forward to keep an eye on which way the group headed.

As I knelt with shoestrings in hand, in one blurry moment, a large furry mitt wrapped around my mouth and the creature attached to that paw pulled me back, dragging me behind one of the massive graves. Screaming was not an option--his appendage muffled my efforts at making any sound. Until I could shift into my werewolf-self, the only defense I had was to kick. So I did. With all my strength, I kicked. He had an advantage over me, though, and thrashing got me nowhere.