A Tempest of Discovery by Sarah M. Cradit

Author:Sarah M. Cradit [Cradit, Sarah M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub

15

Nicolas

The French Quarter was notoriously hard to navigate by car when anything at all was happening, and in a city of festivals, this was almost always. There was something going on down Bourbon, between Iberville and Ursuline’s, and any turns off Dauphine, in the direction of the river, were met by barricades. Lauren lived near the Ursuline convent, but between the roadblocks and the fresh, intense storm that poured from the heavens from a booming crack of lightning, they couldn’t get close enough.

The storm that hit came from nowhere, as many did this time of year in New Orleans, but in only fifteen minutes the drains were already overwhelmed. Heavy accumulations of water pooled where the streets angled down, and all manner of suspect party debris, from brightly colored beads to go-cups bearing the printed names of local watering holes, floated into the streets.

The driver stopped near a roadblock and had a conversation with a police officer that Nicolas couldn’t hear. When he was done, he slid the divider window open. “Sorry about this. At this point, the closest I can get her is four blocks. I can keep driving, but I would need to come back out by the convention centers and then loop up to Canal, which in this traffic is another thirty minutes, if we’re lucky.”

“I can walk,” Lauren said. She was so quiet he could hardly hear her, but the trembling in her hands had escalated, traveling to her arms and even legs. Whatever was happening in her head, Nicolas had a feeling it would soon reach a boiling point, and he didn’t want her to be stuck in this car when it did.

“Not happening,” Nicolas said. “You wouldn’t make it five feet before you’d drown in that outfit. They’d find you tomorrow, strangled to death by your fishnets like a seagull caught in a six-pack.” He looked at the driver. “What about my apartment off Frenchman and Dauphine? Can we get there?”

The driver looked ahead. After a few moments, he replied, “I think I can get there in ten. Maybe less if they cleared that pothole construction on Governor Nicholls. Will that work?”

Lauren’s eyes fluttered closed. She struggled to stay awake. Something was happening to her… something he should know about, do something about. But not here.

“That okay?” Nicolas asked her. “As soon as the storm clears, if the fest is still going I’ll walk you home myself, but for now, I think we should ride out the storm at my place.”

She rolled her head away. “I know where Adrien is,” she slurred, and passed out.

Nicolas tucked his jacket around her.

He cracked the window. The old piss stench of Bourbon Street carried two blocks over, buoyed by the rain and wind. He gagged and closed it again. Beside him, Lauren slept, but he suspected whatever was happening to her wasn’t very restful.

Ten minutes.

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