I gulped. “Oh.”
“You must fix the portal breach, ma minette,” Drake continued, now directly in front of me. He kneeled down and took both of my hands in his. His eyes implored me at the same time they showed his concern.
“What does that mean? What breach?”
“Whatever breach you might have opened. You must cleanse the house.” Seeing my expression of confusion and doubt, he continued. “I do not know what, if anything, will come of your dabbling, but il est préférable de préparer que d’être pris par surprise. It is better to prepare than be taken by surprise.”
“I don’t know how to cleanse the house!” I cried, my heart plummeting as the weight of the situation began to bear down on me. “I don’t even know what that means!”
Drake’s response was straightforward and succinct. “Then you must find someone who does.”
I quietly pondered his reply for a few seconds. I was in New Orleans, a spiritual mecca, basically the seedbed of voodoo. If I had to cleanse the house of spiritual energy, where better to find someone than here? That was when something occurred to me. I glanced up at Drake, finding his eyes already riveted on me. “But, but if I do find someone to cleanse the house…what does that mean for you? Wouldn’t you be cleansed from it as well?” I didn’t know why, but I was suddenly afraid of losing him. It was strange because I wasn’t wholly convinced that he really even existed beyond the confines of my mind; but truthfully, I wanted him to be real.
With a chuckle, he shook his head, running his fingers down the side of my cheek. “Cleansing will only eradicate entities that intend you harm, ma minette.” He bent down and brought his mouth to my ear, whispering, “Je ne te ferais jamais de mal. I would never harm you.”
I started to close my eyes at his touch. Incredibly, in this dream world, he felt whole, tangible, and nothing at all like a spirit, or what I imagined a spirit would feel like—air. His touch was as real as my own. His breath against my ear sent shivers up my spine. God, how I wanted him to be real, to exist outside the boundaries of my imagination.
Then, like a slap in the face, I suddenly jolted back to reality and remembered the information from the Ouija board. I swallowed hard and pulled away from him, savoring the feel of his fingers still grazing my cheek.
“Ne pas la combattre. Do not fight it,” he whispered, his breath hot on my neck. I wanted to close my eyes again and allow myself to succumb to whatever he had in mind for me, but I resisted the urge.
“No, Drake, there’s more. I need to tell you what happened.”
“What happened?” he repeated, pulling away from me, disappointment overcoming his features.
“With the board.”
It seemed to take him a minute to remember what we were talking about before he replied. Men!
“The Ouija board,” I clarified.
“Priez continuer. Pray continue,” he answered, becoming suddenly unsettled, and probably realizing whatever I was about to say wasn’t going to be good. I cleared my throat and watched him walk to the fireplace, where he leaned his arm against the mantel and studied me, patiently waiting for me to begin.
“I read all the articles you requested,” I started. He immediately nodded as if he were happy to hear it. I swallowed, knowing he wouldn’t be happy to hear the rest of my story. “So I am pretty familiar with what happened in regard to the Axeman.”
“Très bien. Very good,” he answered quickly. “What does the board have to do with this, ma minette?”
I inhaled, knowing I needed to get to the point. “While Trina and I were using the board, we asked it questions.” Drake kept nodding, as if to say this were commonplace. “And when we asked whom we were speaking with, the board started spelling out the names…of the Axeman’s victims.”
Drake’s expression completely changed. His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. I glanced down at his hands and saw he was fisting them at his sides. It was uncanny to watch the complete change in his demeanor—from sensual to seething, all in the course of a few seconds.
“Drake?” I started, only slightly unnerved at the expression on his face.
He immediately shook his head, as if to say he wanted the complete story. “Go on.”
His obvious agitation about the entire thing was making me nervous. I glanced down at my lap and realized I‘d picked all the nail polish off the fingernails of my right hand. I looked back up at him and felt myself withering beneath his stringent gaze. “That’s all there really is to say.”
“Which names?” he demanded.
I took a deep breath and tried to remember. “Joseph was first. I figured that could mean either Joseph Maggio or Joseph Romano.” The Axeman had attacked two Josephs. “Then I think the board mentioned Charles Cortimiglia, and Louis Besumer, and Anna…Lowe.” I swallowed and felt the quiet of the room overcoming me. Drake didn’t move, or even blink. He just stared at me. “Do you think Trina and I were in contact with the victims?” I asked sheepishly, not sure what to make of his tacit scrutiny.
He immediately shook his head and his eyes were piercing when they settled on mine. “No.”
“Then who?” I started.
“Je ne sais pas. I don’t know,” he replied immediately, his hands still fisted at his sides and his eyes still dangerous. “Is there more?”
“No,” I started, feeling like I didn’t want to continue talking about this subject. Not without any idea what was going through his mind. Was this way worse than I’d previously thought? Had we somehow opened a demonic portal with the board, allowing the Axeman to come through and possibly do me in with an ax?
“Nothing?” he affirmed.
Then I remembered there was more. “Oh, um, yes, there is actually.”
“Quoi? What is it?”
I tried to remember everything that happened that night. I could feel myself starting in on the fingernail polish of my other hand. “The board began to count chronologically, so Trina had to turn the board upside down.” Drake’s lips continued to tighten until they paled white, but despite my anxiety, there was more I had to tell him. “And it started to repeat the words that were written in chalk on the sidewalk right before the murder of the Maggios.”
“Mrs. Maggio is going to sit up tonight just like Mrs. Toney,” Drake repeated, as if he’d been working on the case only yesterday. I simply nodded, hating the words as he uttered them. They were so filled with obscene mystery that went way beyond ominous. He took a deep breath, finally releasing the tension in his lips. He started to zone out on the floor, and just when I wondered if our conversation was over, he looked up at me. “I received the call about the message,” he started, his voice sounding far away. “Upperline and Robertson Streets. It was just a block away from the Maggios’ home.” I nodded and listened, intrigued by his story…fascinated by him. “No one could make any sense of it. At first, we thought it was a simple schoolboy prank. He inhaled deeply and then shook his head. “Merde.”