Cassandra and I managed to get to our feet with the aid of the tomb at our backs. My head felt as if it might split in two. The scent of burning flesh wasn't helping.
I tried to catch a glimpse of whoever had shot Charlie and Mrs. Beasly, but I saw no one.
The moon shadowed more than illuminated, and the graveyard was chock-full of tombs. Go figure. The shooter could be biding anywhere. However, if they had meant us harm, they wouldn't have stopped at two bullets.
"Let's get out of here." Cassandra bent to snatch her knife out of the gravel.
"Now she wants to leave."
"Don't you?"
"I never wanted to come here in the first place."
She ignored the comment, tugging me toward the rear of the burial ground. I hung back, peering longingly at the streetlights. "What's wrong with the front door?"
"Those gunshots are going to bring cops, if not mugs. I know a less public way out."
"Of course you do."
But she had a point, so I went with her. I didn't want to explain why there were two flaming dead people in the middle of St Louis Cemetery Number One. I doubted I even could.
Besides, if the police found Cassandra here they'd definitely think she'd been stealing bodies, and then some. I needed her free and able to help me figure out what was going on, not locked up for body snatching and desecration of the dead. If they even locked people up for that anymore, although I kind of thought they did.
She led me past a huge monument, which I recognized from the film Easy Rider. Peter Fonda had climbed up to sit in the lap of an angel. I'd thought the scene a bit sacrilegious even then. Now, in the silver-tinged night, I thought it more so.
This was a sacred place, a haunted place, a place where the living did not belong, and I wanted out of here as fast as I could go.
We left the white stone monuments behind and stepped into a small rectangle filled with more traditional markers.
"What's this?" I whispered.
"Protestant section."
No wonder it was so small.
"There." Cassandra pointed to a path that seemed to cut through someone's backyard.
"We shouldn't - " I began.
"What the hell!"
An exclamation from the front of the cemetery was followed by more voices and the patter of feet. Flashlight beams began to flicker round and round. I practically dived out of the city of the dead.
Cassandra and I emerged onto Robertson Street, which divided St Louis Number One from St Louis Number
Two. From the guidebooks, I knew that where we were now was even rougher than where we'd been. But after what I'd just seen, I had a hard time caring.
We cut down the side of the cemetery, headed for the lights, but when we reached Basin Street we turned in the opposite direction of the increasing number of police cars. A fire engine and an ambulance passed within minutes. They weren't going to be much help.
"What do you think they were?" Cassandra asked.
"You first."
"Not zombies. The powder didn't work and - " She shot me a sideways glance. "As far as I know, zombies don't explode when they're shot."
"What does?"
"No clue. But did you see... ?"
"The fangs?"
She let out a sigh of relief. "I thought I was nuts."
"Of course you aren't. It's perfectly sane to see dead people with fangs."
And I wasn't even being sarcastic.
"I saw the same thing you did," I said. "But I don't know what I saw."
"I think I do."
"Explain it to me."
"Dead people rising, growing fangs, and acquiring superhuman strength. You do the math."
I'd never been very good at math, but I could see where she was headed. "Vampires?"
"This is New Orleans."
"You keep saying that. It's still planet Earth, last I checked."
"Ever hear of Anne Rice?"
"She writes fiction, Cassandra. Vampires aren't real."
"Then what the hell was that?"
I didn't know, but I was damn straight going to find out
"What do you know about vampires?" I demanded.
"Bram Stoker, Anne Rice, Laurell K. Hamilton." She shrugged "I like vampire books."
"And you call yourself a voodoo priestess."
"Voodoo and vampires, not the same thing," she said.
'I'll take your word for it" I went silent as we made our way to Royal Street. "What's the common thread in all of the books?"
"The undead live forever. Coffins. Crucifix. Biting on the neck."
"Charlie was bitten on the neck. By an animal."
"According to legend, vampires can take the form of a wolf."
"Bingo," I whispered.
I couldn't believe in the short time since I'd arrived in New Orleans I'd gone from searching for an out-of-place wolf in the swamp to chasing zombies and considering vampires. Then again, this was New Orleans.
We reached Cassandra's shop.
"Do you have any books?" I asked.
"On the paranormal?" She unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. "I think I might"
I followed her across the shop, skirting the snake cage, even though Lazarus appeared fast asleep or dead. Considering his name, I doubted either one was a permanent condition.
Cassandra opened a glass-fronted case and pulled out one, two, three huge old volumes. Dust puffed as she set them on the counter. Then she bent and yanked another from a bottom shelf.
"We can start with these."
I glanced at my watch. "You care if I take them with me?"
"Got an appointment?"
"Kind of."
"Ruelle," she guessed.
I was supposed to head into the swamp with Adam tonight. And while I'd already decided to forgo that trip in favor of researching the vagaries of the vampire nation, that didn't mean I didn't want to do other things with him once I was through.
My face must have revealed my intentions, because she frowned. "Be careful."
"Why?"
"Have you ever seen him in the daylight, Diana?"
I opened my mouth, shut it again. Thought hard.
Hell.
"That doesn't mean anything," I insisted.