“Ain’t so bad,” Marie smiled. “Just smoke. Ain’t nothing that can’t be covered over.”
“We got bigger problems that the smoke, Miss Marie,” one of the men said.
“Don’t fret ‘bout that. Iolanthe will be back."
“No, ma’am.” The man shook his head.
“You mean the baby?” Marie winked. “Don’t you worry none. I know where that Barbara Allen went. Like all white women, I’ll bet ya, she done took herself to the cathedral. They always look to God when they’re in trouble. Go there now and fetch ‘em back for me.”
“I’ll go, Marie,” Louis nodded. “Let the men stay here and help you clean up.”
“You’re a prize, Louis. How I missed ya!” Marie laughed.
“Miss Marie,” the man insisted. “We still got a problem.”
“I know, that red-headed Ulrika carried the Italian man out. No matter. He’s her problem now.”
“No.” The man shook his head. “It’s Nellie.”
“What about her?”
“Young Marie done found her in the pantry.”
“So?” Marie shrugged.
“She’s dead, Miss.”
Meanwhile, Ulrika Rittenhouse carried Giovanni through the rainy streets of the Quarter—attracting much attention from the men and women who hurried past with their heads covered.
“Where are you taking me,” Giovanni asked, marveling at Ulrika’s unusual strength.
“Home.” Ulrika grinned.
“Your home?” Giovanni grinned, looking up at Ulrika as she carried him effortlessly through the torrent.
“Ultimately.” Ulrika answered. “For now, I’m staying here in New Orleans with friends of my family.”
“”Won’t they object to your bringing a strange man into their house?” Giovanni asked.
“They’ll do what I say.” Ulrika laughed. “Everyone always does.”
“What about your companions—that painted woman?”
“Iolanthe will find me. You can count on that.” Ulrika sighed.
“I owe you my life,” Giovanni smiled.
“Yes, you do.” Ulrika chuckled. “And, I’ll never let you forget it.”
At that very moment, Robert and Marjani leaned back as Arthur coughed violently, sending droplets of blood flying into the air.
“It’s comin’ quick.” Marjani whispered.
“He must have been ill for days and ignored it as best he could.” Robert nodded.
“Serves him right,” Marjani nodded. “Hate to say it.”
“It does.” Robert agreed quietly. He turned and looked to Gerry who stood nervously by Mr. Punch.
“You may not want to watch this,” Robert said.
“If you don’t mind, Sir, I’d like to stay.” Gerard replied.
“As you wish,” Robert shrugged. “But, it will be quite ugly.”
“I need to see it.” Gerard whispered. “I feel it’s my due.”
Robert nodded.
“Sir?” Gerard interrupted. “Well, sirs? And, you, too Miss.”
“What’s the matter, Gerry?” Mr. Punch asked.
“Do you think there’s any hope for me?” Gerard asked.
“I don’t know,” Robert raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been in close quarters with the man. It’s quite possible that you’ve been infected as well. Do you feel ill? Any chills?”
“No.” Gerard shook his head. “That’s not what I mean, Sir.”
“What do you mean?” Punch asked.
“I mean hope, Your Grace.” Gerry answered sheepishly. “Hope for me soul? I don’t want to die like Artie—destined for Blazes.”
“Ah, I see.” Punch nodded.
“Is there hope for me to be a better man, Sir?”
“There’s always hope for that, Gerard,” Marjani smiled.
“’Course there is, Gerry.” Punch added.
“If you want our help,” Robert grinned. “You have but to say the word.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-299? If so, you can read them here.
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