Chapter 9

The next few days at home were almost torture—no sign from the hooded figure, no voice saying spicy things in my head. I tried to sleep as much as possible to see its golden eyes again, but they never came.

I can't believe I am getting off to a fucking set of eyes… What's wrong with you, Wren? Have you been taking your meds? This is precisely the type of hallucinations you were warned about. Get a grip!

It had only been three days since the accident, and I could no longer stand the silence of my small apartment or in my head. I knew Mr. Babineau wouldn't let me step into work for a few more days, so I would visit my parents' graves in Layfette Cemetery. That meant a two-and-a-half-hour trip to New Orleans, but at least it would get me out of this tiny Apartment. 

I packed a small bag with a change of clothes just in case. You never know what's going to happen in N'awlins. I took a long look at the bottle of pills Dr. Nyx had given me. 

I should probably take one of these.

A few seconds later, I closed my bag, leaving the bottle where it sat. It was an invitation for the hooded figure; whether they would take it or not was up to it. I climbed into my oversized SUV and turned the key. My body ached still from the wreck, but I wouldn't let myself be afraid to drive again. It had been my first taste of freedom as a teen, and I wouldn't let fear hold me back from doing the things I love. I turned on my favorite playlist and headed towards I-10. 

Good music made the trip seem like mere minutes as I pulled into the street parking. Glaydis, the rose woman, was on the corner like always, and she smiled when she saw me walking towards her. I met her when my parents passed away; she had offered me a rose the day I buried them. Glaydis was easy to talk to, even if she never talked back. Occasionally, she would sign something too fast for me to understand, but always offered a smile and a single rose each time I saw her. Today was no exception. 

Her hands moved quickly as she welcomed me back before wrapping around me in a bear hug. Oddly, she was one of the few people I didn't mind touching me. 

"Good to see you too," I chuckled, patting her back. 

She led the way to my family's mausoleum like she had been there a hundred times. The ornate doors were covered with ivy and moss, and they looked like they hadn't been touched in a hundred years when, in reality, it had only been three since my parents were buried here. 

Their funeral was a spectacle despite my attempts to make it a bit more somber. My parents came from "old money," which meant very little to anyone inside our small family, but it was the highlight of their lives. My mother was the beauty of the parish, perfect in every way, and my father came from a long line of debt hidden by an exceptionally good name. They were perfect for each other, in the worst way. He gambled she drank, they fought, they fucked, and then, there was me. I was so opposite of my mother in looks. Where she was tall and slim, I was short and curvy. She was built like a supermodel, and I looked like the night clerk from a seedy motel. My father had once told me that I might not have my mother's good looks, but I had his brains, which was more of an insult than he realized. But I loved them still. 

Nothing had prepared me for their death. They were driving home from a party at my aunt's house and went off the side of a bridge. It was the first time death had affected me negatively, the first time I truly felt the impact, felt the loss. So, I went ahead with their wishes. Booze, a band, and all of New Orleans celebrating their life while I mourned them. 

I removed some of the moss from the plaque that displayed their names and placed the crimson rose Glaydis handed me moments before. Glaydis smiled, resting her weathered hand on my shoulder. I spoke a small prayer, and she crossed her body as I finished. 

We walked without looking at each other until we left the cemetery. When we got to her corner, she grabbed my hands and held them momentarily in her own. There was such a vast difference between them, every line, wrinkle, and scar. She smiled, looking back up at me, and signed, I love you, my friend. 

"I love you, too," I smile.

The sun behind us had already begun to lower, and with the last few moments of light, I noticed two things about Glaydis I had never noticed before. One, her eyes held a sorrow I had never seen before, and two, they had the most beautiful golden glow I had ever seen.

I turned to head back to my car after a hug goodbye. I stopped when I heard it. 

"Such a beautiful place to be, where the dead rest. I didn't think you'd come back here, Little Wren.."

I turned quickly to look at Glaydis but was only met with an empty street corner. I practically ran to my car and hauled ass out of New Orleans.

The drive back home was long. I had driven in silence, trying to keep the details of what had happened fresh in my mind.

Why did she have golden eyes? Did she always have golden eyes? Did I just never notice? Where did she even go? I had only walked a few feet away. How could a frail old woman just disappear? It's not like I knew where she lived and could go check. Maybe she just went home. Yeah, that is probably it. She went home…

I remained in my parked car, trying to shake off this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was home, and I needed to eat and sleep. I mindlessly walked into my house, set down my keys, and headed into the kitchen. I rummaged through the leftovers of jambalaya and smothered pork chops I had made a few days ago before opting for the large slice of chocolate cake From Keller's bakery. 

I sunk my fork into the moist cake, and my mouth started to water. I brought it to my lips as a thunderous knock banged at my door, making me jump and drop the small piece on the floor. I let out a small sigh before checking the peephole in my door. No one was there. I hesitated to open the door, but curiosity got the better of me. In front of me was a box with my name sloppily written on the top. I brought it inside and placed it on the coffee table when it began to shake violently, and a low hiss streamed from inside. I peeled back the top of the box and peered inside. 

Staring back at me was a tiny granite-colored kitten with a crimson collar and a name tag that read "Ash." I gathered him in my arms and nuzzled the side of his face as tears streamed down my face. Under him was a small slip of paper that was etched in gold filigree

"When I can't be with you, let him warm your heart. -D. "