The House on Prytania (Royal Street #2)(45)
Author: Karen White

 

“I don’t know. I’ve been looking at all these names on the front, trying to figure it out. There are lots of family members here, including extended members, like in-laws, I’m guessing, because of the different last names. I think there are over thirty names here, but I can’t get close enough to read them.”

 

I pulled out my phone to take pictures, but the battery, which had been fully charged when I’d entered the cemetery, was now dead. “Here,” Sarah said, handing me her phone. Moving quickly before the battery drained, I snapped pictures of the tomb, including all the names, the flowers, and the menacing lion perched on top, its stone eyes narrowed as it appeared to focus on us.

 

“Do you recognize any of the names?” Sarah asked.

 

“Some. Jeanne Broussard was the woman who was murdered in my house by her own father, Antoine. And I see her uncle Frank is interred here, too. The fact that they’ve all ended up together would be enough of a reason for Jeanne to be haunting the cemetery, I guess.”

 

Sarah shook her head. “Maybe, but it would be weird for her to appear to me as a little girl.”

 

“Sarah! Nola!”

 

We both turned to see Melanie tottering in her high heels toward us over the dirt and gravel of the cemetery street. Her appearance surprised me, as I’d assumed she was too absorbed in her personal ABBA concert to notice that we were missing.

 

She came to stand next to us and looked up at the tomb for less than three seconds. “We’ve got to go. We shouldn’t be here.” Melanie grabbed an arm of each of us and began dragging us away. I wanted to stop and ask why, but when I noticed the matching expressions she and Sarah wore, I closed my mouth.

 

Mary sent us a disapproving glance as we rejoined the group. “Remember, everyone, that we need to stay in a group. This is for your own safety.” She continued the tour, but of the four of us, only Jolene appeared to be listening.

 

When we were finally outside the cemetery gates, Melanie took hold of Sarah’s hands and began chafing them between her own. “They’re ice-cold, Sarah.” She took out a pair of warm leather gloves from her purse. “Here, put these on.”

 

My sister did as she was told, but the color of her face remained almost corpselike. “Did you see it?” Her voice cracked, prompting Melanie to pull out a small bottle of water and hand it to her.

 

“I did,” Melanie said.

 

Jolene and I shared a look. “What didn’t we see?” I asked.

 

Melanie put an arm around Sarah and pulled her close. “It was . . . a man. At least, I think it was.” She looked at Sarah, who slowly nodded. “It was hard to tell because it was just a shadow, but it . . .” She shuddered. “It didn’t move like a normal shadow.”

 

My blood froze and crackled. “Sort of like an inkblot?”

 

Melanie looked at me with surprise. “Yes. Which is why I pulled you two away. It was pure evil. And all of its menace seemed to be directed at us. I didn’t want it following us.”

 

My expression caused her to loosen her grip on Sarah and look at me closely. “What is it, Nola?”

 

“I think it’s too late for that.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 17

 

 

Cooper held my car door open as I stepped out onto Prytania Street in front of the Ryans’ house. My family was with Jolene in Bubba, and they slid up to the curb behind us, the thump and scrape of Bubba’s bumper as familiar now as Jolene’s greeting of “Hey, y’all.”

 

Following our day of sightseeing, Mimi had invited us all over for supper so she could meet Melanie and Jack and my siblings before all but Sarah had to leave on Sunday. As the ultimate hostess, she’d extended the invitation to both Cooper and Jaxson. At some point, Jolene had found the time to bake a batch of her famous brownies and wrap them in a cute basket with a huge orange and black gingham bow. JJ, his infatuation with Jolene not a secret to anyone, offered to carry the basket into the house, and Jolene graciously accepted. In view of the age difference and Jolene’s devotion to Jaxson, I hoped Jolene would let him down carefully.

 

As we waited for everyone to exit the car, Sarah, Melanie, and I stood looking up at the house, the exterior spotlights creating creeping shadows from the limbs and leaves of the magnolia trees.

 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked.

 

“Assuming you like old houses, I guess you could call it beautiful,” Melanie said.

 

“So it’s not just ‘a pile of old lumber’?” I asked with a grin, repeating a phrase she used just about every time her historic home needed yet another expensive repair.

 

Her gaze drifted to the cupola perched at the top of the house. “It’s very old. Not my favorite thing when it comes to houses.” She huddled in her coat.

 

Jack noticed and stood next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close. To the gathering group, he explained, “She equates all old houses with money pits, and often refers to them as nothing a can of gasoline and a match can’t fix. She looks so cute when she’s trying to hide her true feelings when working with clients who are bound and determined to own one. The tip of her nose turns red, just like a clown’s. A very cute clown,” he added, tweaking her nose gently. “It does the same thing when I put something in a drawer the wrong way. Right, Mellie?”

 

She sent him a withering glance, although she couldn’t completely hide the twitching at one side of her mouth. “Can we go in? I’m starving.”

 

“Everyone, stick your hands in your pockets,” JJ commanded with mock alarm. “When Mom gets hungry, nothing is safe.”

 

“Very funny,” she said, moving forward as Jack opened the gate with the hourglass and held it for all of us to pass through.

 

As everyone walked toward the front steps, I turned back to find Sarah still by the gate, looking up at the house. “Are you okay?”

 

She gave me a stoic nod. “I think so. There is definitely . . . something here.”

 

“Oh, yeah. For sure. Even I feel it.”

 

I caught sight of the red rubber band around my wrist. I slid it off and handed it to her. “Here. Wear this—I’ve got a stack more at home. Snap it against your skin whenever you need to remind yourself that fear can’t win. Because you’re stronger than it is.”

 

Sarah placed it on her slender wrist, then held it up to see it in the light from the porch. “Thanks,” she said, giving it a few plucks with her index finger. “Where did you get it?”