Page 61 of Knight of the Sword

“No, hotels don’t usually keep ice cream in bar refrigerators,” Michael replied between kisses, “but I’m sure room service can bring some up.”

“Well, make them do it, then. Chocolate, for sure.”

With a sigh, Michael released Sophie and reached for the phone. “Tonight, Dragon, you sleep in the living room and leave us alone.”

“Hmmph,” Pendragon said.

****

“I’m still not quite sure what we are doing at a voodoo museum,” Sophie said two days later as walked down Bourbon toward Dumaine.

“Well, the historical museums didn’t pan out. Neither did the fort. I guess I was wrong to think someone from the Priory would take the chance to put the Sword in full sight. It has to be hidden. And New Orleans is full of all sorts of secret places. What better place to begin than where voodoo magic still lingers? Maybe I’ll pick up a vibe.” He opened the door for her and grinned. “I am a warlock, remember?”

Like she needed reminding. Sex the past two nights had been beyond her wildest fantasy. With a capital F. Now that she had let her shields down, Michael had shown her how to tap into his emotions, the result being that she not only experienced body-shattering orgasms herself, she lived them from his perspective as well. It was mind-blowing to have a double and simultaneous climax.

“Are you going to tell me next that Marie Laveau’s spirit is going to connect with you?”

Michael gave her an odd glance. “You’re not using as much sarcasm as you usually do about the supernatural.”

‘Well, gosh! I saw a ghost in Charleston, and we have two dragons loose that are hundreds of years old, and a demon chasing us. To say nothing of the fact that my man can make himself look like a really sexy panther.” She shrugged. “I’m still wanting there to be some sort of logical explanation, but either all of these things are real or I’m totally delusional. I’d prefer to think I’m still sane.”

“You’re sane. Maybe a little crazy in bed, but I’m not complaining.” He gestured.

”Let’s see what’s here.”

“So did this voodoo queen put curses on everybody?” Sophie asked as they began to walk around.

“Don’t know. She sold gris-gris. They could be used for good or evil, just like the Sword. She was practically a legend in her own time.”

“Like King Arthur?”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t think King Arthur would have thought of himself as a legend. He was simply trying to keep Britain from being overrun by Saxons.”

“Still, he must have had some kind of charisma for legends to spring up and endure through all this time. Or maybe it was Merlin’s magic, huh?”

Michael gave her another odd look. “You’re still skeptical?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, if there is one city in this whole country that holds magic, it’s New Orleans. The history, from the Spaniards to French aristocrats to the slaves brought in from many countries—no one forgot their cultures. This was the only place in the South that accepted children of mixed blood. Quadroon Balls were as popular and elegant as anything on the Continent. Marie Laveau was of color and she didn’t become a voodoo queen without the patronage of the white aristocracy. Here Jean Lafitte—a pirate by all government accounts—could not only walk freely on the streets but also commanded more respect that the governor did. New Orleans protected her own and honored her dead. She holds her secrets close. Can you feel the magic?”

“Well—” She hesitated. “I did have an odd reaction when we turned to walk on Bourbon Street earlier.”

He raised a brow. “What was it?”

“It’s going to sound silly.”

“Try me.”

“Just for a minute I…I… It seemed that time stood still. All the people milling around were gone. So was the noise from the traffic on Canal. All I could hear were horses’ hooves on the cobblestone and ladies-of-the-night calling down from the balconies.” She stopped and gave him a wide-eyed look. “It was weird.”

“Not so much. You probably connected with a time portal.”

“I’m not sure I want to know what that is.”

Michael smiled. “I’ll save that explanation for another time, but I’m not surprised it happened. The Vieux Carré is filled with spirits that linger because their descendants honor them. In fact, we can go look at Marie’s tomb later.”

They began to walk again. “If Marie were a witch, how come she’s entombed at the St. Louis Christian cemetery?”