Read Online La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust by Cd Hussey - Free Book Online

ready to believe he was
something other than human.
    The mere thought was preposterous.
    So, she was just floating in purgatory,
unsure what to think or do. It was better to do nothing than act on
impulse and possibly implicate an innocent man.
    However, if he was innocent, letting the cops
know what she'd seen wouldn't harm him. Once again, she had to
wonder why she was protecting him.
    She wasn't ready to point fingers at Armand,
though, not yet. The man she'd met last night hadn't struck her as
a killer and it was ridiculous to think he was a vampire. She
needed to see him again, judge his character without so much
alcohol clouding her mind. But the only place she knew to find him
was La Luxure, and the idea of going back there alone was
truly terrifying.
    All this flip-flopping was making her head
hurt.
    The clouds dropped lower, pressing damp,
misty fingers against her already chilled skin, and giving her a
quick jolt of the creeps. It didn't help that she was already on
edge from Melissa's death and the raised graves held a million
places for an assailant to hide. Nor did it help when she reached
the massive tomb in the center of the cemetery and was greeted by
headless statues while crows cried their sad tune from roosts in
the trees behind her.
    In spite of being spooked, she found the
cemetery eerily beautiful. There was something to its dilapidation
that was actually graceful. It reminded her of black and white
snapshots of refugee women in National Geographic. Surviving wars
and famines hadn't always aged them well, but they still stood tall
and with whatever strength they could muster.
    After snapping a few more pictures, Julia
glanced at her phone. It was approaching six and would be getting
dark soon. Probably a good time to head out.
    As she meandered back towards the entrance,
she passed a large tomb marked with dozens of X's, all in groups of
three. Shoes, coins, liquor bottles, beads, lipsticks, and various
other items gathered at the base. The marker read, "Marie
Laveau."
    The Voodoo Queen.
    A woman of about 50 stood at Julia's left,
her arms crossed tightly against her chest as she studied the
grave. She looked even more the tourist than Julia.
    "What are the X's for?" Julia asked.
    "You mark them on the wall and then ask Marie
to grant you a favor."
    "Do you know what they mean?"
    "I think they represent the Holy Trinity: the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."
    It wasn't what Julia was expecting. Besides
adding a little extra creepiness to the lore, what did Catholicism
have to do with the Mistress of Voodoo?
    In silence, the two studied the tomb a while
longer. The woman finally wandered off with a few mumbled parting
words, and Julia was left alone at the grave.
    She picked up a lipstick. Whether or not it
would help anything, it certainly couldn't hurt. But what sort of
favor should she ask for? There were so many options, love, health, real happiness...maybe she could combine a couple.
    Mistress Marie, please let me survive my
flight home to find true love.
    With the lipstick, she started drawing the
X's. On the second one, she pressed just a little too hard and her
lipstick line became a huge, pink lipstick blob. Shit. If the X's
weren't drawn correctly, would the request be denied? Or worse,
would it piss off the Voodoo Queen enough that she made sure the
opposite came true?
    Julia wasn't about to tempt fate. Carefully,
she tried to draw out the blob into a line, first with the lid to
the lipstick container and then when that failed, resorted to her
finger. When she'd finally made a satisfactory attempt, she very
carefully drew the last X and stepped back to observe her work.
    Well, they weren't perfect X's, but they were
recognizable at least.
    "You do realize that's illegal," a deep voice
purred in her ear.
    Julia's heart and stomach exchanged places.
She spun around startled, knowing exactly who she'd find. A hundred
years wouldn't erase the memory of that voice.
    Armand was grinning at her,