Longarm and the Voodoo Queen (18 page)

Longarm stopped at the desk of the St. Charles and asked the sleepy-eyed clerk on duty, "Has a young woman been here looking for me?"

The man shook his head. "No, sir, not that I recall. Let me check your box for messages." He looked around, then shook his head again. "Afraid not, sir."

Longarm felt a sharp pang of disappointment and worry. He had thought that Claudette might be waiting for him in the lobby or even up in his room, if she had been able to persuade the clerk or one of the bellmen to let her in. He said, "If a lady--young, attractive, dark hair, talks with a Cajun accent--shows up, send her right up to my room, will you?"

Even as sleepy as he was, the clerk managed to smirk a little as he said, "Yes sir, Mr. Parker. Right away."

Longarm ignored the man's knowing grin and headed for the stairs. He was too tired and concerned about Claudette to care about anything else.

He had thrust the key into the lock and was about to turn it when he froze suddenly. Out of habit, he had glanced down before opening the door, and he saw that the end of the match he had closed between the door and the jamb when he left the room the night before was now gone. It was an old trick, one that he used frequently when he was staying in a strange place, and it had saved his life more than once. He always put the match just an inch or two above the floor, so that anybody opening the door wouldn't notice it when it fell.

But he noticed when it was gone, as it was now, and its absence warned him that somebody had been in his room while he was gone. Might even still be there, he thought.

He had paused only an instant in opening the door, such a short time that his hesitation had probably gone unnoticed by anyone lurking inside. He twisted the key the rest of the way as he drew his gun, then in one smooth movement he drove his shoulder into the door so that it slammed open as he went into the room in a rolling dive. He came up in a crouch, the Colt held tightly in his hand, ready to fire.

Claudette sat up sharply in bed, gasping in surprise and holding the sheet in front of her bare breasts.

"Custis!" she exclaimed. "What-"

Longarm came to his feet and kicked the door shut. "Are you alone?" he asked.

Claudette let the sheet drop, revealing the firm globes of her breasts. She patted the pillow next to her. "Do you see anyone else in here?" she asked.

Longarm had to admit that he didn't. She was undoubtedly by herself in the bed--a situation he intended to remedy as soon as possible. Just looking at her pebbled nipples made some of his weariness go away.

He holstered his gun. "Sorry about busting in here like that," he said. "I didn't think you were here. I asked about you down in the lobby, and the clerk said no one had shown up looking for me."

"I came in the back way and persuaded one of the bellmen to let me into your room," she explained. "No one in the lobby saw me."

Longarm didn't ask how she had convinced the bellman to cooperate with her. Probably the less he knew about that, the better. He shucked his gunbelt and coat and vest, then began taking off his shirt and tie. "Did you find Marie Laveau?" he asked.

"I saw her. I spoke to her, me." Claudette sounded as if she found that difficult to believe even now. "But she would tell me nothing, Custis. She remember my gran'pere, though, and his gran'mama before him."

Longarm frowned as he sat down in a chair and pulled off his boots. "Just how old is this Voodoo Queen anyway?"

"No one knows," said Claudette with a shake of her head. "She is old, very old."

"Did she send those zombies after me?"

"She would not admit it if she did, her. But I think maybe SO."

Longarm sighed. "Looks like I'm going to have to go see her myself, maybe buy myself a magic charm to ward off walking dead men."

And if he did, he couldn't wait to see Billy Vail's face when he put in an expense voucher for it!

Claudette threw the sheet aside, revealing her body in all its glorious nudity. "Come to me, Custis, and hold me, you. I want to forget all about voodoo and zombies and men with guns for a while."

Longarm certainly shared that sentiment. As naked now as she was, he slid into the bed and put his arms around her, drawing her to him. Their mouths met in a heated kiss. Longarm parted her lips with his tongue and used it to explore her mouth, tasting the hot, wet sweetness of her. She reached down between them and closed her fingers around his shaft, which was already erect and throbbing with need. All of his tiredness and confusion and frustration had vanished. He was able to put it aside and live entirely in the here and now for a time, concerned only with sharing his passion with Claudette.

Neither of them was in any mood to wait. When he reached between her legs and probed her core with his fingers, he found her drenched and ready for him. She rolled onto her back, spreading her thighs wide, and he moved over her and positioned himself to drive into her with a single urgent thrust. She gasped as his huge, rail-hard manhood filled her.

Her moisture coated his shaft as he moved it in and out of her. Her hips began to buck against him. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him, locking her ankles together above his surging hips. Her arms twined around his neck and pulled his head down to hers, and once again their mouths molded together. He could feel her breasts flattened against his chest, the hard nipples prodding insistently against his bare skin.

The rhythm of their dance was timeless, universal. Longarm lost himself in her, driving his manhood deeper and deeper, reaching the inner core of her so that she gasped and cried out in ecstasy. Just as he could stand it no longer, she began to spasm around him, and thankfully he plunged deep within her one last time and held his shaft there as his own climax shook him. She shuddered and thrashed as his seed fountained into her, filling her to overflowing.

Longarm groaned as he collapsed onto her, barely able to support some of his weight with his elbows so that she could still breathe. Both of them were shiny with sweat. His pulse was hammering wildly in his head, like some mad carpenter building a gallows in Hell.

He frowned as that thought went through his head. Why in blazes had such a grim image sprung to mind at a time like this?

Then he heard something... a faint scraping... No, it was more like ...

Slithering.

Longarm's head jerked up. Draped over the headboard of the bed was the biggest damn snake he had ever seen and Longarm was practically eyeball to eyeball with it, so close that he could see its tongue flickering in and out of its mouth so fast that it was almost a blur.

Frozen there like that, he barely noticed when the door burst open behind him and the men with guns in their hands came into the room.

CHAPTER 13

Claudette looked up, saw the snake's head suspended in the air about twelve inches above her face, and quite understandably screamed like a banshee. Longarm's hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off the scream. He didn't want to spook the snake.

He had never heard of a snake this size being venomous; more than likely this was one of the creatures he had read about that killed its prey by looping its long, thick body around them and squeezing them to death. He had no idea how such a monster had gotten to New Orleans. They weren't native to this part of the country, or anywhere else in the United States, for that matter. He figured the men with the guns had something to do with it being in his hotel room, though.

"Do not move, M'sieu Parker," said one of the men. "We are sorry to interrupt you like this, but Marie Laveau wishes to see you."

The man's voice had the soft accent of the West Indies, and when Longarm risked a glance over his shoulder, he saw that the three unexpected visitors were black men wearing light-colored shirts and trousers and rope-soled sandals on their feet. Unlike the zombies, they were medium height and slender, but they were no less dangerous. They held their guns as if they knew quite well how to use them.

"I ain't going anywhere," grated Longarm, "until somebody does something about this damn snake."

"Pierre," said the man who had spoken before, and one of the other men tucked his pistol into his waistband and came forward. He reached out, grasped the snake's muscular body behind the head, and pulled it off the headboard. Some of the snake's body dropped onto the bed and slid across the pillow only inches from Claudette's head, and her eyes widened as another scream of instinctive horror tried to well up her throat. Longarm kept his hand over her mouth, blocking the sound. He didn't figure the gunmen would appreciate it if Claudette drew too much attention to them, and Longarm didn't want to give them any excuse to start shooting.

The snake draped itself around the torso of the man who was holding it. The man grinned and stroked the scaly flesh as if the snake was a pet cat.

"I am afraid we cannot do you the courtesy of turning around while you get dressed," said the spokesman. "We know that you are a resourceful man, M'sieu Parker. That is why the serpent was to visit you tonight."

"Let me guess," said Longarm. "You boys hid the snake in here earlier figuring it would crawl out and kill me after I went to bed. But then Marie Laveau decided she didn't want me dead after all, so she sent you back over here."

The spokesman inclined his head, acknowledging that Longarm's theory was correct. "Resourceful--and smart. After talking to the young lady, Madame Laveau decided she wishes to speak directly to you."

Longarm looked at Claudette, who seemed to have calmed down a little. At least she wasn't breathing quite as hard underneath him. He took his hand away from her mouth and said, "I reckon you saved my life by going to see the Voodoo Queen."

"That... that snake must have been under the bed the whole time!" she exclaimed with a shudder of revulsion.

"More than likely," agreed Longarm.

The leader of the gun-toting trio said, "Please get dressed now. Madame Laveau is waiting."

Longarm rolled off the bed and stood up. The gunmen watched him like hawks as he pulled on his underwear, trousers, and shirt. He had no chance to lunge toward the gunbelt lying on the bedside table. At least they had the decency to avert their eyes a little as Claudette got up and pulled on the gown she had worn at the Brass Pelican.

When Longarm had pulled on his socks and boots and Claudette had slid her feet into a pair of soft slippers, the leader of the gunmen said, "That is enough. We will go now."

"You plan on marching us out through the lobby at gunpoint with one of you carrying that snake?" Longarm asked dryly.

"We will go down the rear stairs. No one will hinder us. The bellmen who are on duty will see to that. They would not want to cause any inconvenience for Marie Laveau."

Longarm wasn't surprised by the answer. It was clear that Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen, wielded a great deal of power in New Orleans, even though she stayed in the shadows and pulled other people's strings like a master puppeteer. In a city filled with folks who believed in voodoo, the high priestess was someone to be feared and respected.

A few minutes later, Longarm and Claudette had been taken out through one of the hotel's rear doors into a service courtyard where a covered carriage waited. Black curtains were pulled over the carriage's windows. One of the gunmen opened the vehicle's door and gestured with his pistol for Longarm and Claudette to climb in. There was nothing else they could do.

Besides, Longarm wasn't really anxious to escape. After everything that had happened, he wanted to talk to Marie Laveau as much as she wanted to talk to him.

It was still not long after dawn as the carriage rolled through the streets of the French Quarter. Claudette huddled next to Longarm, clutching his arm nervously. Across from them sat two of the gunmen. The third man had placed the snake in a large wicker basket and climbed up on the seat of the carriage to ride next to the driver.

Longarm edged aside the black curtain on the window next to him. One of the Voodoo Queen's men lifted his gun, but Longarm held the palm of his other hand out toward the man, indicating that he wasn't going to try anything funny. He just wanted to see how the People on the street were reacting to the black carriage, and as he had expected, many of them turned their eyes away as soon as they glimpsed the grim-looking vehicle passing them.

"I reckon folks know this coach belongs to Marie Laveau," he commented to the two gunmen. "Most of 'em are pretending they don't even see it."

"Most people in New Orleans have a great deal of respect for Madame Laveau," said the gunman who had done all the talking so far. "You would be wise to do the same, M'sieu Parker."

Longarm nodded and let the curtain fall back into place. Voodoo powers aside, he had plenty of respect for anybody who could command men who handled guns and snakes so well.

The ride was not a long one. St. Anne Street ran from Jackson Square near the riverfront to Beauregard Square several blocks away. The carriage drew to a stop in front of a small, undistinguished cottage less than a block from Beauregard Square. As Longarm and Claudette climbed down, still under the guns of their captors, Claudette nodded toward the square, where most of the grass had been beaten away by the feet of generations, leaving hard-packed dirt behind. "Gran'pere's gran'mama told him of the dances the slaves held there," Claudette said in a low voice. "They call it Congo Square then. Gran'pere see the dance one time when he just a little boy. Say he never forget the drummin' and the chantin' and the singin'. That square a voodoo place, you bet."