The group laughs, and I continue, my eyes roaming the crowd and taking stock.
“We won’t be going inside any of the beautiful buildings we’ll be talking about tonight, but halfway through, we will stop at a bar to soak in some A/C and have a refreshment or two.”
“Or five,” Heckler Number One says, elbowing his friend.
“I’m always happy to answer questions, so don’t be shy, y’hear? Now, let’s get started.”
I point to the big, gray building behind me. Most tours save this one for last, but not me. It’s the most haunted of the group, and I want to get it over with.
Not that the rest of the tour isn’t haunted. Ghosts are literally everywhere.
But this one? It’s sinister.
I hate it.
Tour groups love it.
“This building behind me is the LaLaurie mansion,” I begin. “Well, a rebuilt version of the original house, anyway. Like most buildings in the Quarter, it suffered a nasty fire. Delphine LaLaurie lived here with her third husband, Louis. She had two daughters from previous marriages. Both of her earlier husbands died early deaths.”
I swallow hard as I look over at the façade. More shadows than I can count stare back at me.
“Delphine and Louis had a love for torture.” The drama is thick in my New Orleans accent as I relay stories of torment, and the horrific atrocities done to the hundreds of slaves that once lived in the building behind me. “And these stories I just shared are the less horrible ones.”
Several pairs of eyes whip to mine in surprise.
Including a pair of green orbs the same color as the malachite pendant I wear around my neck for protection.
I instinctively reach up and fiddle with the stone as I continue.
“Who haunts it?” someone calls out.
Who doesn’t?
“One day, Delphine chased a twelve-year-old slave girl up to the roof of the building with a bullwhip. The young girl had been brushing Delphine’s hair and hit a snag. She ran from the whip, and it’s said she jumped to her death out of fear.
“Leah, the slave girl, is buried on the grounds of the mansion, along with countless others. When renovations were done years after Delphine and Louis fled to Paris, skeletons were found in the walls. So much death has happened here, that it wouldn’t surprise me if dozens of spirits haunt the house.
“It was once owned by Nicolas Cage, but it has a different owner now. They don’t offer tours.”
I gesture for the group to follow me, and we continue down Royal Street.
My route through the Quarter is deliberate. I take the same path every day. There are no surprises that way.
Surprises for me are never fun.
Yes, I see shadows, but they’re the same ones every time. I know where they lurk.
My hecklers turn out to be fun rather than ruining the tour for everyone else, and before long, we’ve stopped for our refreshments. I grab myself two bottles of water, one to drink now, and one to stow away in my bag for later.
“How do you know all this stuff?”
I turn and see those green eyes from before smiling down at me.
“I studied,” I say with a grin of my own. The man is handsome as all get out, with a dimple in a cheek covered by dark stubble. But it’s those eyes that draw me in. “I was a history major in college, and since I’m from this area, I’ve always been fascinated by local history.”
“You tell a hell of a story.”
“Thank you.” I take a sip of my water, watching him. “Where are you from?”
“Savannah, originally.”
“Another haunted city.”
“They claim to be the most haunted in America.”
I feel my smile turn colder. “While I’ve never been there, I’m sure Savannah is beautiful. But we have more dead in New Orleans than we have living. And while it’s not a competition, I’d bet this city would stand up to yours any day of the week. At least, for hauntings.”
“Maybe you need to visit.”
Not a chance in hell.
“Maybe one day.”
“I’m Cash.” He holds out his hand to shake mine. His palm is warm, his grip strong.
“Brielle. But you knew that.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Brielle.”
“A complicated one.” I wink at him, pull my hand away, and round up the troops. “Let’s go, everyone. It’s time for more ghost walking.”
Once we’re back on the sidewalk, I point to the building behind me. “This was once a boys’ school. The original building burned down in the seventeen hundreds, and the boys perished in the building. It’s said they still live here.”
I glance back and see several small shadows looking out the windows.
“It’s a hotel now, and guests have reported hearing laughter and children playing. Do you remember back in the day when we had regular film cameras?”
The older members of my group smile and nod.
“Well, back then, people would take their vacation photos. When they got home, they’d take the film in to be developed. Several vacationers reported that as they were sifting through their memories, they saw photos of them. Asleep. From above.”