New Orleans, Nick Gautier was home. And he was pissed. As the taxi wended its way from the airport in the mid-morning hour toward his Bourbon Street home, and he saw the scars that were still left by Hurritcane Katrina, his blood literally boiled. How could this have happened? Closing his eyes, he tried to blot out the boarded-up windows and fallen signs.
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Close Fear The Darkness Menyara Chartier, a tiny, frail African American woman was sitting in front of the grave, talking in a whisper to his mother while she arranged bouquets of white lilies. The Voodoo High Priestess paused mid-sentence and turned her head as if she knew who would be there.
Menyara had been the closest thing to family he and Cherise had known. Without thinking he swept her up into his arms and held her close. But Menyara was a gifted clairvoyant. She knew things no one else did. That was the vicious rumor that had been going around. She patted his arm. I know. I only arrange those the dark-haired man sends. And every day without fail he sends over flowers for your mother to see. Even better than you, I think. I know exactly who and what he is.
I know exactly what he can do. And more to the point I know what he cannot do. Or what he dare not do. Your mama always say that you react without thought. You feel too deep. Mourn too great. But one day, Ambrosius, you will see that you and your friend are not so different. That there is much of you inside him.
Fear the Darkness
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Fear The Darkness