Redemption Song [Midnight, New Orleans Style 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Midnight, New Orleans Style 4

  Redemption Song

  When five college friends reunite, one night changes their lives forever.

  Halloween in New Orleans. Rémy Lafitte has paid a charlatan to enact a Voodoo ceremony in the cemetery. The ritual reanimates Niko Valdés, a French Quarter tutor who was damned to Everlost for murdering his sister’s attacker.

  Mild-mannered stockbroker Heidi Purdue stumbles upon Niko and Rémy in a compromising position. They are interrupted by a demon on horseback who beheads the charlatan before giving the trio a pentalpha puzzle to solve.

  Curvy Heidi knows that heartthrob Rémy would never fall for her, but she falls for the undead tutor. Rémy, jealous of the other two’s closeness, agrees to an equitable ménage, opening up to a male lover.

  The centuries-long battle against primordial evil leads them to a temple, where they find Solomon’s ring. They go past the portal of Hellmouth to redeem themselves, but the real puzzle is how to fulfill the prophecy that they are intertwined inexorably—now and forever.

  Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal

  Length: 51,213 words

  REDEMPTION SONG

  Midnight, New Orleans Style 4

  Karen Mercury

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  REDEMPTION SONG

  Copyright © 2014 by Karen Mercury

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-393-2

  First E-book Publication: October 2014

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Redemption Song by Karen Mercury from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

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  This is Karen Mercury’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Karen Mercury’s right to earn a living from her work.

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  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  REDEMPTION SONG

  Midnight, New Orleans Style 4

  KAREN MERCURY

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  She was lying to her best friend.

  Heidi Purdue hadn’t seen Shayla in a year, not since their last annual soiree. Now they were sitting around a wrought iron table in the crowded courtyard of a New Orleans inn, and it wasn’t the ideal spot to be honest with Shayla.

  They were packed like sardines, defending their seats with their elbows and, in Heidi’s case, her feet. She had already purposefully tripped one plastered reveler who seemed to be wearing only a tie and a G-string shaped like a devil’s face. He kept bumping her shoulder with his stupid bare ass. Okay, they were in New Orleans and all, and it was the eve before Halloween, but this was ridiculous, so Heidi stuck her foot out and down he went. It was so packed to the rafters that he really only stumbled into the cleavage of a woman covered entirely in Japanese hand fans.

  I don’t have time for this. Then, sadly, Heidi realized that she did.

  She had taken an entire week off from her San Francisco brokerage to make this reunion trip. Of course, she’d brought her laptop so she could keep up to date with her clients and the market, but really, the girls were supposed to be having fun—something Heidi wasn’t that familiar with. In the decade since graduating Ole Miss along with her other friends, Heidi had only become more focused, more driven.

  She had worked harder and made more money, but it was never enough. There was always more work and more money to spur her on. This annual trip was the only fun she ever had, and now Raoul was ruining that, too, indirectly. It would be a miracle if she made it through the entire week without her friends catching on to how miserable she was. She just didn’t want to cast a pall over the trip. She didn’t want the other four women looking sideways at her as though she had snakes coming out of her ears. That would just keep them on edge, too.

  Could she keep up this happy act another six days? Heidi prided herself on being professional, upbeat, and competent. None of those qualities went hand in hand with “a self-pitying, blubbering old wreck who is falling apart at the seams.”

  Now Heidi had to lean over her tall Hurricane drink and shout at Shayla. “Yes, we went sailing just last weekend.” What an abominable lie. She hadn’t been out on the bay with Raoul in two months. That had started making her suspicious. Raoul had cancelled first one sailing date, then another. Heidi knew Raoul would never give up a sailing date, so she’d finally confronted him. The ease with which Raoul had admitted to the affair was the most stunning part of the entire ordeal. He’d been so casual, as though just admitting he’d eaten an extra piece of red velvet cake.

  Shayla sighed. She
didn’t seem to notice that a guy behind her dressed as an enormous spider web seemed intent on capturing her in his snare. His butt snare, no less. “You and Raoul seem like the ideal couple. I’ll never forget that time you were in Hawaii and you got swept away by an undertow. You told me he saved your life.”

  Oh, shitpickle. Why did Shayla have to recall that incident just now? “Well, I might have been exaggerating. I could have gotten back to shore by myself. He just happened to paddle out on a surfboard and run into me.”

  Shayla was insistent. Heidi couldn’t blame the thoughtful, sultry girl. Shayla just thought she was stroking Heidi’s ego with her appreciative talk of Raoul. It was what girls did—show appreciation for others. “I’ll never forget how vivid your description was of almost drowning. You made it sound beautiful. The part that stands out the most is when you stopped struggling against the current and everything became serene, like you were in a trance.”

  Heidi recalled the experience as though it were yesterday. She encouraged Shayla, to take the focus off of Raoul. “Oh God, yes. I must have swallowed lots of water by that point, because suddenly an overwhelming sense of peace and serenity washed over me.”

  “Suddenly you were up among the stars, talking to two angels.”

  Heidi reached out and picked some spiderwebby foam from Shayla’s hair. “It’s not Halloween yet!” she snapped at the big spider dude. But the hubbub in the courtyard, intermingled with blasts of jangling calliope music from the steamboat on the river, guaranteed the guy didn’t hear her snipe. Get used to it. You’re in New Orleans. “Yes, they were more like two spirit guides. Disembodied, without a form that I could relate to, but I somehow knew that both were male. Why did I think one came from Texas? He had a distinct drawl. The other was French, although I can’t recall one word they said.”

  “Yes.” Shayla looked up at the starry sky that served as a canopy over the crowded maze of the exposed brick courtyard. Shayla was an empath, skilled at being interested in the exploits of others. Now she seemed to be floating in the stars along with Heidi in that heavenly realm where all was peaceful, all was forgiven. Or maybe it was the booze. They were on their fifth round. “You said that they spoke to you about things so incredibly wise and highly evolved, you couldn’t recall a word of it when you woke up in the ambulance. What I wouldn’t give to have that knowledge!”

  Heidi tried to scoff. “Now you’re sounding like Lisette.” It had been ten years since their dear friend Lisette had departed this plane. That was how Lisette would have phrased it, anyway—“departed this plane.” Lisette was from New Orleans and had been planning to return here to work after graduation. That was why they’d decided to hold this reunion here. After years of denial about her death, they were finally ready to discuss it, to come to grips with it. “Lisette probably has that knowledge now, if only we could talk to her.”

  Shayla came down to earth to suck the remnants of her Hurricane from the glass with a straw. “Well, I for one am going to that Voodoo Spiritual Temple on Rampart Street tomorrow. That’s where Lisette said she got her gris-gris.”

  Heidi gulped air from her own straw. We need another round. Faina and Erin were also seated at the wrought iron table, deep in conversation. They seemed not to notice they were being crushed by a couple of sweaty, pre-dirtied, nearly naked firemen. The men were, unfortunately, only in costume. They were probably dumpy, boring-ass stockbrokers in real life, just like Raoul. “Here, let me take your glass, Shayla. I’ll get another round. No sense in waiting for the waiter to come out here. Faina? Erin? Another?”

  Heidi gathered up the glasses, but Shayla wouldn’t be deterred. The women were attempting to confront Lisette’s death, but no one had brought up the fateful gris-gris. Heidi was surprised by how uncomfortable it made her to think of that handmade leather bag Lisette had nearly always worn on her person. Lisette had wanted to take it the night—her last night on earth—she’d gone out with the other five girls, but they’d talked her into leaving it behind in the dorm. They had stewed in guilt over that for ten years now.

  Heidi would rather talk about Raoul. “Well, you’re probably right, Shayla. Raoul was pretty instrumental in saving me from drowning. I guess I just wanted to give those spirit guides the credit for it. I’ll be right back.”

  She purposefully bumped the naked devil with her hip, chuckling to herself when he spilled his beer onto the uplifted shelf of the fan woman’s breasts. She shrieked shrilly and looked about to slap the devil. God, I am so mean. Well, I have no other thrill in life, now that I don’t have even a lousy boyfriend like Raoul. All I do is work. I need to enjoy New Orleans more.

  When Heidi moved from the brick courtyard into the French Market Inn’s hallway, cell reception returned. The phone in her pocket vibrated several times, and out of habit she looked at her texts. Three from a client. She could return those when she wasn’t so wasted. Since she did it so infrequently, being wasted made Heidi paranoid, as though her clients would be able to tell just from her drunk texting. Another two texts were from a different client.

  She bumped into brick walls as she navigated the maze to the bar. The last text was from her best friend Colleen.

  Ran into Raoul tonight at the Exotic Erotic Ball. He was acting like a jerk.

  Heidi’s heart nearly stopped. Just the name—Raoul—all backlit on her phone’s screen with such legitimacy and importance was enough to give her a heart attack. It had been a month since Raoul had cut her loose so rudely, so unceremoniously. Heidi had been entombed in misery ever since. Her head kept trying to brainwash her. He’s just a moron. Who needs him, anyway? What a loser. He wears white belts. He’s always talking about his Beemer. He’s such a show-off. How could I have put up with him for a year and a half? I deserve much better. He wears white shoes.

  But no matter how long and hard she talked to herself, it still hurt like hell. It would have been so much easier if he would have given her the chance to dump him, but the way it worked out had added insult to injury. When she had confronted him about the cancelled outings on the bay, he hadn’t put much effort into lying. He had basically just admitted he’d gone sailing with another woman—another woman he wanted to continue to see.

  Yes, he had basically broken up with her. It stung so badly Heidi had gone straight home to her kitchen cabinet where she thought she had a bottle of whiskey left over from her Dad’s visit. A year ago. That’s how bad it was.

  “I need to move on, to grow into my own potential,” Raoul had claimed.

  Now, the blatant evidence that Colleen had actually seen Raoul that very night nearly made her vomit with grief. Colleen was probably trying, in a warped way, to make Heidi feel better that Raoul was acting like a jerk. But it only struck Heidi with the force of a fist to the gut. Having many drinks sloshing around in that gut made Heidi instantly hit the “call” button. “Four Hurricanes,” she told the bartender.

  I’m drunk dialing. I’ve never drunk dialed in my life. Oh yeah, except that time I drank Dad’s whiskey and called Colleen. So she should be used to it by now. “Colleen! What the fuck?”

  Colleen sounded like she was hammered, too. Booming voices and clanging guitars nearly obliterated her voice as she partied at the Exotic Erotic Ball pre-party party. “Hang on, let me go out this exit door. Oh, phew. Everyone’s smoking out here. Whoa, look at that—how many Miley Cyruses are out here?”

  Heidi paced with irritation. “Colleen. Listen to me. What exactly did Raoul say? You just said he was acting like a jerk.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Heidi, I don’t think you want to know all the—”

  “I want to know. I want to know, Colleen. I really do. I think it’ll help give me closure to know exactly what sort of an asshole he is.”

  “But don’t you already know? Why twist the knife in deeper? God, I never should’ve texted you. I knew that was a mistake. It makes it seem like I’m rubbing—”

  “No!” Heidi knew she sounded frantic, so she took several long draws of her
Hurricane while handing the bartender her debit card. Calmer now, she said, “Colleen. Tell me. What was the nature of your encounter?”

  “Well. He was with that idiot Clive Washburn, and he was dressed up like Walter White from Breaking Bad, you know? I just asked him a general sort of ‘whassup,’ you know, and immediately Raoul starts elbowing Clive—and you’re not going to believe this—and he goes ‘Well, we just came back from Tahiti.’ And they look at each other all chummy like, and they go ‘Tahiti, Tahiti! The women, the women!’”

  “Oh, God!” Heidi had to hold the phone away from her ear as though it were a turd. Tahiti, Tahiti? The women, the women? My ass! She took two deep breaths. “And what else?”

  “That was it basically. I was like, oh, yeah, sweet, whatever, and I walked away. Don’t worry about it, Heidi. It’s water under the bridge.”

  After promising Colleen that this news was not going to ruin her night, Heidi hung up, took back her debit card, and stared at the four Hurricanes. Suddenly one Hurricane glass was empty, so she had to order another one.

  Heidi had thought Raoul was splitting with her to be with that other, more beautiful, stockbroker. Heidi was a plain Jane, she knew. She freely admitted she was the ugly duckling of their Ole Miss group, for instance. Her body was chunky and pasty white from working too much under fluorescent lights. But her face…was probably best described as a “butterface.” A hooked nose, two front teeth overlapping—Heidi knew she had a face like a broken sofa. A date had once told someone she was as ugly as a mile of unpaved road.

  And she felt like it, right now. If Raoul hadn’t even dumped her to be with that hot broker but instead wanted to elbow Clive suggestively about Tahitian hookers, that meant it wasn’t even Heidi’s looks that had driven him away. Raoul was no looker either, but as usual with men, his buttload of family money more than made up for it. Why? Why? Heidi had been browbeating herself over this for a month.