Warlocks_The Creole Coven Read online

  Chapter Two

  “And the two, joined by circumstance, shall be unable to work their spells against each other, for their power was joined before birth.”

  The Prophecy

  The Presidential Suite

  8:30 p.m.

  T he Presidential Suite was very presidential indeed. In fact, it was the nicest room that Toni had ever stayed in, and she couldn’t believe that she had it for seven full days.

  It boasted marble floors and Provence-style décor with a spacious living room and an elegant seating area, flat-screen televisions and a well-stocked wet bar. There was also a parlor with its own refrigerator, dining table and plush sofas and a huge pillow-top four poster King bed in the bedroom, with a marble bathroom and a sunken Jacuzzi tub.

  Too bad, it was a work trip, where most of her time would be spent chasing a story instead of enjoying the luxury of it all, but she’d find a way to manage.

  In the canopy bed, stripped down to her boy shorts and a T-shirt with bottles of water and coffee surrounding her, Toni lined up the police reports and meticulously studied each of them, writing notes on her computer and speaking notes into her cell phone.

  From the outside, it looked like she had created a mess on the bed, but in her mind, it was a well-organized beginning to this story.

  According to the NOPD and coroner reports, each of the four suicides had several things in common. All four had been young African-American women under the age of 30, who were born and raised in New Orleans; all four women had been in the same room when they did the deed; all suicides had been carried out in the same manner, and all had happened in the same month.

  However, neither of the women knew each other, and no one had accompanied the women to the hotel during their stay.

  Her next logical question would have been to find out if there had been foul play if she hadn’t already known the method of the suicide.

  Each woman had tied a rope to the banister of the balcony of their suites and jumped off the side.

  Patrons below tried to pull the women down and save them, but each time, there had been no way to pry the rope from around their necks.

  Toni cringed as the visual burned in her head.

  They had very publicly ended their lives without any reason. No letters, no emails, no texts. They simply checked in to this hotel and within 12 hours killed themselves.

  For Toni, there had to be a connection, despite the police department’s fervent denial.

  And now, since she had actually seen the hotel for herself, she wondered how four young, single women – a karaoke DJ, a low-level public relations assistant, a copy-editor for a local blog and an English teacher, had been able to or interested in checking into such a pricey place with such meager salaries.

  “I need to see the actual room,” Toni said aloud as she crammed a slice of pizza into her mouth and then guzzled water to wash it down.

  The question was, which room had they all died in?

  She scrambled through the reports until she came across the number.

  “Room 32…5,” she said, swallowing hard. Shit. She averted her eyes from the paper and sunk her shoulders. That was the room she was supposed to have stayed in before the manager gave her this suite, and now she really wished that she had not allowed that smooth talker to get involved.

  The plot thickens…

  Picking up the phone, she was about to dial the concierge and see if she could be allowed in the room for a few hours, when she heard a voice on the other end.

  “Hello?” she said, pushing the phone to her ear.

  “Ms. St. John, it’s Jericho. I was calling to see if you’d like to meet down in our bar. I have some time to answer a few of your questions.”

  Speaking of the smooth talker…Toni looked at the phone and frowned. “I was just about to call down to speak with someone.”

  “Perfect timing then,” he said, waiting for an answer as he pushed back in the leather seat behind his oak desk. Sounds of music drifted in from the open windows of his balcony.

  “Yeah, it is.” She grabbed her notepad. “I have a few questions for you and a favor to ask.”

  He had no intention of being interviewed on the phone. He wanted to see her. “We can do your interview at the bar,” he countered. “I’ll meet you there. It’s downstairs off the left side of the concierge area. You can’t miss it.”

  This one was pushy. A real control freak. Toni tossed her notepad on the bed. “Okay. Well, give me 30 minutes, and I’ll be right down,” she said, getting out of the bed.

  “Do what you need to do. I’ll be at the bar in 25 minutes,” Jericho answered. “See you then.” He hung up the phone before she could say another word.

  What happened to your southern hospitality? Toni thought to herself looking at the phone.

  Something about that man put her on edge. Maybe it was time that she returned the favor.

  ***

  Jericho was a very busy man, but it didn’t stop him from being curious. Instead of leaving the details of Ms. St. John’s stay with one of his younger brothers or the hotel staff, he decided to oversee it personally.

  Waiting for her at the bar, he sipped on a dirty martini and stared at the bartender as he cleaned glasses and served other patrons their drinks.

  The New Bourbon Bar was a source of pride for the hotel. Designed in dark woods, gold-rimmed paintings from around the world and white candles atop of white linen high tables, it was elegant and understated. But the atmosphere was always snatched down a decimal when the bartender wore jeans and boots instead of slacks to serve the customers.

  This, after all, was not a pub.

  “I really hate when you stare at me like that,” the bartender said, throwing his towel over his broad shoulder. He stalked over to Jericho and put down a shot glass on the bar.

  “Stare at you like what?” Jericho asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Like you’re judging me,” the young man said with a disgruntled look as he ran a hand through his wheat blonde curly locks.

  Jericho shook his head dismissively and put the glass back to his mouth. “You’re being paranoid,” he lied.

  “Am I?” the young man grabbed a bottle of their high-dollar scotch from behind him and poured a hefty shot. “Want one?” he asked, angling the bottle toward Jericho.

  “I’ve asked you time and time again not to drink on the job. It sets a poor example for the other employees.” Watching the young man as he defiantly picked up the shot and downed it, Jericho rolled his eyes in annoyance. What a little prick.

  This was an evergreen discussion that always came up when Jericho was stressed about something, and no matter how many times they hashed it out, they somehow still had it again.

  The bartender swallowed hard and cocked his head to one side as he prepared to set Jericho straight. “Well, I’m not an employee per se. I own a seventh of this shit hole, and I’m working the bar on my night off instead of being home with Nadia. So, I’ll have as many shots as I want, and I won’t be taking any lip from you, big brother.”

  Jericho’s jaw tightened. “Just make sure that when she comes in you fix her the special cocktail,” he ordered. “I don’t want her getting too close to what’s going on here.”

  “In other words, you want me to get her wasted, so she’ll slide them panties off for ya? That will surely run her off,” the young man said snidely.

  “Tu sais ce que je veux dire," Jericho snapped in French. “And don’t fuck this up.” He pointed a rigid finger at his brother.

  The young bartender looked across the room at the woman, who must have been Toni, as she entered and sucked in a dramatic breath. So, that’s where the source of his brother’s stress came from. It made total sense now. He gave a rueful smile. “You didn’t say that she looked like that?” He wiped the bar top again to keep his hands busy.

  “Looked like what?” Jericho asked, instantly sensing her presence without seeing her.

  Jericho had f
elt her when she first walked into the hotel earlier that day.

  Something inside of him began to boil over as he sat in his office, and he was forced out of his chair and drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

  This mystery woman was special to him in some way, but he needed to find out why, and he needed more than anything for her not to get too close to the suicides, lest she be one of them.

  His youngest brother flipped the towel back over his shoulder. “Don’t you fuck this up,” he said, walking away.

  As Jericho turned in his chair, he was expecting to see the same jean-clad, cocky New Yorker that he had met earlier that day, but what he saw was a seductive temptress in a little black dress.

  She was utterly magnificent, so beautiful to behold until his stomach constricted.

  Toni was a tall woman, standing over six feet with the help of her six-inch, designer black stiletto heels.

  With flawless brown skin the color of milk chocolate, wide almond-shaped eyes the color of coffee, thick natural brows shaped like wings, heart-shaped lips covered in red gloss topped off by a real beauty mole above the right side of her lip, a long inviting neck that led down to perky C-cup breasts and wide hips atop long, powerful sprinter legs that were thick with muscle, she commanded the room, bending it and everyone in it to her will.

  Damn you, woman, he thought to himself.

  He could smell her from across the room, a hint of vanilla on her freshly cleaned skin – sprayed evenly on neck and wrists and just a dab on her inner thigh.

  Inhaling her delectable scent, he hated himself for his attraction and the profound effect she seemed to have on him.

  His mouth would have flown open had he not intentionally snapped it shut. Watching her as she swayed across the room in what seemed to be slow motion, he swallowed down the urge to gawk at her outright, to fall and worship at her feet, to make her understand that she was extracting the beast from him one step at a time.

  He knew that only a certain type of woman could have that effect on him, but she didn’t fit the type, nor did she bear the markings - making her hold on him a complete mystery.

  Transfixed as well, his little brother watched Toni from behind the bar in similar shock. With the bottle of scotch still in his right hand and a lit match burning in the other, he stopped in his tracks and bucked his eyes as he watched her. “Damn,” he said audibly. The match finally burned his fingers, bringing him back to the task at hand, which was to light the candles lining the bar. “You sure you got this, big bro?’ he asked Jericho. “She might be too much for you.”

  “Shut up,” Jericho growled under his breath. He couldn’t deal with his brother’s continued immaturity and Toni’s overt sensuality at the same time.

  Standing to receive her as a gentleman should, Jericho ran a hand down the front of his suit and looked around the room. He wasn’t the only one who had noticed her grand entrance. The men in the room were practically foaming at the mouth. Their collective response made him suddenly possessive of her, but he kept his inner-snarl hidden.

  “You look lovely,” Jericho said, rather curtly. It was as if he begrudged her for her beauty.

  “Thank you, I guess,” she said, taking a seat at the bar beside him. “I had to get out of those jeans from earlier. The heat here is relentless.” Flipping her feathered hair over her shoulder, she settled in and placed her purse and key card on the bar.

  Jericho tried to ignore her elixir-like perfume. “I hadn’t noticed the heat today.” Sitting back down beside her, he turned on his game face, even as his brother smirked from down the bar at him. “Before we start, can I get you a drink?” He motioned for his brother to make his way down to them. “We have a wide variety here.” Wiping his red eyes, he yawned.

  Toni noticed that unlike earlier, Jericho’s easy charm had waned. “Tired?” she asked, watching his face as it tightened.

  “Very,” Jericho tried to ease up a bit. Although, she didn’t know it, he had been up for two days straight with no sleep but mentioning something like that to a reporter would be like bleeding around a shark. “It’s been a long day. Plenty of patrons, not enough time. I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, we could have done this another time,” Toni said, smiling as she noticed the bartender noticing her. He was cute, really cute, but too young for her taste.

  “No, my word is bond, Ms. St. John…” Jericho said, gripping the counter. She was killing him with her thighs. Fighting an erection, he bit down on his lip.

  “Toni,” she said, flashing a sexy glance at him. “Call me Toni, not Ms. St. John. That’s my mother.” He was a very serious man for his age, too serious. She had to pull him down a few notches for her own comfort.

  “Of course…Toni. I like to always follow through on my promises.” Jericho picked up his martini and took a sip. “Now, about the hotel. We have a beautiful facility here, and people from around the world visit us daily.” He angled toward her. “My family bought this hotel over thirty years ago. Prior to being a hotel, it was a mental hospital for women.”

  “Really?” Toni pulled out her notepad. That was an interesting tidbit.

  He watched her write. “Yes, that’s where the hotel got its little rumor of being haunted, but that’s local folklore designed to give the place a little more mystery.”

  “So, they say,” the bartender quipped.

  Toni turned to the bartender and stared him in his eyes. “You’re brothers,” she said, turning back to Jericho. “Aren’t you?”

  Jericho was taken aback. Not many people had guessed that on their own, especially since he was a brunette and his brother a blonde. What had given them away? “Yes, but how did you know?”

  “It’s the eyes,” Toni answered, motioning toward her own. “They are both golden, a color that I’ve never seen before on a human. I thought at first you had on contacts or something, but now I see that it’s some type of family trait. That is, unless you both like the same contacts.”

  Jericho frowned at her statement. “They are more green than golden.” An unease filled his words like she had said something out of place. He tried not to look at his brother this time. Nothing to alarm her. “This is my brother, Jules Laveau, the youngest of our…family.” He couldn’t help but redirect. “And you said St. John is your family name?” That was curious to him now.

  “Yes.” Toni looked behind the bartender at the wide selection of drinks, missing all the signs that she had said something wrong. “What would you suggest, Jules? I’m thirsty for something other than water. That flight took it out of me.”

  Jules looked between Toni and Jericho, and then gave a smile. Despite his brother’s tattered edges beginning to show, his charm was still intact. “How about I fix you one of our specialized drinks. It’s a modern spin on absinthe. Guaranteed to relax you.”

  “Sounds good,” Toni said, turning back to Jericho. Her shoulders relaxed. “So, the hotel was once a mental institution. For how long?”

  “For about fifty years. Prior to that it was…” Jericho paused before he stuttered. “And you were born with that name…St. John?”

  “No, I was adopted,” Toni said, putting down her notepad and pen. “Why do you ask?”

  “Curious…I guess.” Jericho twisted up his lip. Out of sheer necessity, he’d need to change his tactics on this one. “I’m going to break protocol and answer a few questions that you have about the incidents here, but only if you answer a few questions for me about how you found out about them. Deal?”

  Just then, Jules passed Toni a pretty martini glass full of a green cocktail topped off with a perfect orange slice and sprinkled with a gold confection. It looked like pure magic. “There you are, ma’am. It’s our New Bourbon Special.” Putting a black, paper napkin under the drink, he pushed it to her and bowed. “Enjoy.”

  “Thank you,” Toni giggled. She liked Jules much more than Jericho, who seemed far too uptight tonight. Maybe she should have kept on her jeans, because the dress was making him bitchy.


  Taking a sip of the drink, she raised her brows. It was deliciously sweet and tart at the same time and felt warm going down like liquid sunshine. “Now, this is what I call a cocktail.”

  Jericho watched her gulp it down with a satisfied grin. That should calm down the little nosy minx. “Well, it’s one of the reasons that our patrons voted us best cocktail in the district three years in a row. We’re very proud of it.”

  “You should be,” she said, wiping her pouty mouth. “Okay, I know you’re tight on time, so let me get started with these questions.”

  Crossing her long legs, she flipped open her notepad again and glanced at her notes.

  Jericho tucked his new tie down in his suit. “Shoot.”

  “How did you keep the story out of the newspapers? I’ve searched this, and none of the local papers or news stations did a story connecting the deaths, even though they were so very public. It had to be because you had some influence there. So, did you?”

  Taking a deep breath, Jericho shrugged. “We have great relationships with the local media. Out of respect for grieving families and because each death was ruled a suicide, we simply asked the reporters not to turn their tragedies into cheap newspaper sales. Plus, they understood that a story like that could potentially impact our tourism business.”

  Toni wasn’t buying the all-in-this-together story. “So, four women kill themselves in the same room, in the same way, in the same month and absolutely no one feels like it was worthy of coverage?” Her question suggested that she thought that he was lying.

  “People here understand each other. We work together,” he replied.

  “Jericho, I’ve known reporters from all over the country. I’ve never known anyone of them to be so understanding that they ignored a scoop. This is a serious story…a big story.”

  “Obviously, or you wouldn’t be here, right?”