Wolfsbane by Johnstone William W

Author:Johnstone, William W. [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-04-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Beautiful,” Pat said, as Janette wheeled the Cadillac into the tree-lined drive of Amour Estate. “It’s just beautiful.”

“It’s very old,” she said. “And has been kept up perfectly over the years. Only a few things added to keep pace with the times. Air conditioning, that type of thing.”

“You were born here?”

“So I’m told. I knew we had a place in Louisiana, but I first saw it only a couple of months ago. Another of the secrets of the Bauterre family.”

“Why would your grandmother keep something like this from you? I don’t understand. I mean, you own part of all this.”

“I don’t know why, Pat. As I said back at your place: there is so much I don’t know about my family. I’ve wondered, of late, just how much grand’mère told me is true, and how much is a lie. And why?”

“Speaking of your grandmother,” Pat said, his eyes fixed on an old woman standing in the shade on the porch, the upper gallery shielding her from the autumn’s still fierce blast of sun. The woman was dressed all in black.

“That’s her,” Janette said. “I imagine she knew we were coming back today.”

“How in the hell would she know that?”

“She knows many things; senses them. Or maybe she’s told them by a higher, darker power.”

“Bullshit!” Pat said.

Janette laughed. “She was a Strahan before she married grand-père. And the Strahans are related to the Metrejeans.”

Pat looked at her, a pained expression on his face. “And I’m supposed to make some sense out of that?”

“You’ll see,” Janette said, her smile grim. She pulled the Caddy into the shade of a parking area, turned off the engine, and set the brake. “Don’t be surprised if she knows your past.”

“If she does,” Pat muttered, “the price tag on my services just went up.”

“I’ll increase the side benefits,” Janette smiled. “Come on. You’re about to get your first lesson in the ways of Amour House.”

For some reason Pat could not understand, the feeling in the pit of his stomach was not unlike the sensation he had felt when he made his first parachute jump. And he could not understand why.

She’s just a very old lady, he reminded himself. There is nothing to fear from her.

But the feeling would not leave him.

Pat stepped into the brutal heat of Louisiana’s early fall, the heat almost explosive after several hours in the air-conditioned car.

“Grand’mère,” Janette said. “I’d like to introduce Pat Strange.”

The old woman peered at him, her eyes dark behind the lenses of the glasses. “The man who saved Lyle’s life,” she said.

Janette tried to remember if she’d ever told her grand’mere about Pat. She felt she had not.

“Madame Bauterre,” Pat said.

“Adventurer,” the old woman said, her lips curving into a smile, of sorts. “What an odd choice. Mercenaire.”

Pat did not understand the remark about an odd choice, but he felt as though someone had hit him in the stomach. The old woman knew what he had been. Pat glanced at Janette. She was smiling, her smile seeming to say: I told you so.

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