Prologue
Lafayette Cemetery's
wrought iron gate stood out like a beacon under the full moon.
"My dad will beat me till I'm blue and
purple if we get caught."
"Stop worrying, will you,
Charlie? Me and James have been here hundreds of times at night."
"Why didn't you bring James then and leave
me out of your sick-ass idea?"
"He's grounded, and I wanted you to see the
ghosts' graves."
Charlie drew a deep breath
and pushed his toe against the six-foot gate. "I think your Ma was smoking weed when she claimed she saw a
spook at the hotel."
"Was not. What do you know about New Orleans
history anyway?"
"Brent, history is my best
subject, and I don't buy all this bull about dead soldiers and surgeons haunting Hotel
Provincial."
"Not just soldiers and doctors. A woman in
a long white uniform haunts the halls,
stops the guests and asks them if they need help."
A dog yowled in the
distance and the boys jumped. "Yeah, yeah, I've read all about it. Others claim the sheets bleed and
another crazy old bat says a spirit
dragged her from bed and tried to pull her through the
wall."
Brent's head jerked toward him. "You calling
my mom a crazy old bat?"
"Sorry, didn't know that
was your mom." Charlie scanned the cemetery through the bars and
shivered. Something had moved out there among the dark shadows. Or,
had someone floated into his line of vision? "Wasn't Interview with a Vampire filmed here?"
"Yeah," Brent said, his
voiced tinged with awe. "After they were done, James and I came here one night, hoped the crew had stirred
up some vamps."
Charlie shivered. Ghosts
were one thing, vampires another. "I still don't understand why your mom thinks one of the ghosts
from the hotel is buried here." Brent
followed his gaze. "Damn, what are you staring at?"
"I coulda sworn something
moved in there." His heart raced. "I'm getting a bad feeling about going in there."
Brent strutted in a circle,
elbows flapping. "Here chicken little, here chicken little."
"Oh, shut up. I ain't
scared of no ghosts but I'll be scared shitless when my dad takes off his belt."
Brent stopped his comic
swagger and faced him. "Okay, listen up. I'll explain it to you once more. If you still don't believe me, I
dare you to scale that fence and look at
their graves."
"Shoot," Charlie said.
"After the ghost tried to
grab the woman at the Provincial, Ma made a list of all the soldiers buried here from the War of 1812 and
the Civil War."
"And?"
"Most are buried in the same section."
"Damn, you're stupid. You
said most . That
doesn't prove the one who grabbed her is
buried here."
Brent shrugged. "Who cares?
We know they haunt the hotel, and some are
buried here." He gave him a lopsided grin. "You chicken or do I go
in alone?"
Charlie put his foot on the
bottom rung, picked his way up the gate, and hoisted himself over the top. A second after his feet hit the
ground he said, "Come on, let's see their
stupid graves and get out of here."
After traipsing around
colossal monuments and a maze of narrow rows, Brent shone the flashlight on an upright tombstone as tall as
his thighs. "Hey, look at this young dude.
Valmont Doucet, born 3 April 1840, died 24 April 1862."
"Civil War," Charlie said reading his
headstone.
"Maybe they hang around
because they died young and can't fucking believe they're dead."
A twig snapped behind them. "What the hell
was that?"
"Relax, Charlie. Probably a critter looking
for food."
"This place gives me the creeps."
Brent crooned the theme
from Jaws and
laughed.
"Very funny, asshole. What
I don't understand is why they haunt the hotel."
"They died there I think.
Mom said during the Battle of New Orleans, the Ursuline nuns turned the building into a field
hospital."
"Okay. I see their graves
and I believe your mom." Charlie glanced over his shoulder. "Can we go now?"
"Hang on. A thought just
struck me." Brent's flashlight beams swept over the front of the headstone.
"What the hell are you looking for?"
Brent gave the monument
Lafayette Cemetery's
wrought iron gate stood out like a beacon under the full moon.
"My dad will beat me till I'm blue and
purple if we get caught."
"Stop worrying, will you,
Charlie? Me and James have been here hundreds of times at night."
"Why didn't you bring James then and leave
me out of your sick-ass idea?"
"He's grounded, and I wanted you to see the
ghosts' graves."
Charlie drew a deep breath
and pushed his toe against the six-foot gate. "I think your Ma was smoking weed when she claimed she saw a
spook at the hotel."
"Was not. What do you know about New Orleans
history anyway?"
"Brent, history is my best
subject, and I don't buy all this bull about dead soldiers and surgeons haunting Hotel
Provincial."
"Not just soldiers and doctors. A woman in
a long white uniform haunts the halls,
stops the guests and asks them if they need help."
A dog yowled in the
distance and the boys jumped. "Yeah, yeah, I've read all about it. Others claim the sheets bleed and
another crazy old bat says a spirit
dragged her from bed and tried to pull her through the
wall."
Brent's head jerked toward him. "You calling
my mom a crazy old bat?"
"Sorry, didn't know that
was your mom." Charlie scanned the cemetery through the bars and
shivered. Something had moved out there among the dark shadows. Or,
had someone floated into his line of vision? "Wasn't Interview with a Vampire filmed here?"
"Yeah," Brent said, his
voiced tinged with awe. "After they were done, James and I came here one night, hoped the crew had stirred
up some vamps."
Charlie shivered. Ghosts
were one thing, vampires another. "I still don't understand why your mom thinks one of the ghosts
from the hotel is buried here." Brent
followed his gaze. "Damn, what are you staring at?"
"I coulda sworn something
moved in there." His heart raced. "I'm getting a bad feeling about going in there."
Brent strutted in a circle,
elbows flapping. "Here chicken little, here chicken little."
"Oh, shut up. I ain't
scared of no ghosts but I'll be scared shitless when my dad takes off his belt."
Brent stopped his comic
swagger and faced him. "Okay, listen up. I'll explain it to you once more. If you still don't believe me, I
dare you to scale that fence and look at
their graves."
"Shoot," Charlie said.
"After the ghost tried to
grab the woman at the Provincial, Ma made a list of all the soldiers buried here from the War of 1812 and
the Civil War."
"And?"
"Most are buried in the same section."
"Damn, you're stupid. You
said most . That
doesn't prove the one who grabbed her is
buried here."
Brent shrugged. "Who cares?
We know they haunt the hotel, and some are
buried here." He gave him a lopsided grin. "You chicken or do I go
in alone?"
Charlie put his foot on the
bottom rung, picked his way up the gate, and hoisted himself over the top. A second after his feet hit the
ground he said, "Come on, let's see their
stupid graves and get out of here."
After traipsing around
colossal monuments and a maze of narrow rows, Brent shone the flashlight on an upright tombstone as tall as
his thighs. "Hey, look at this young dude.
Valmont Doucet, born 3 April 1840, died 24 April 1862."
"Civil War," Charlie said reading his
headstone.
"Maybe they hang around
because they died young and can't fucking believe they're dead."
A twig snapped behind them. "What the hell
was that?"
"Relax, Charlie. Probably a critter looking
for food."
"This place gives me the creeps."
Brent crooned the theme
from Jaws and
laughed.
"Very funny, asshole. What
I don't understand is why they haunt the hotel."
"They died there I think.
Mom said during the Battle of New Orleans, the Ursuline nuns turned the building into a field
hospital."
"Okay. I see their graves
and I believe your mom." Charlie glanced over his shoulder. "Can we go now?"
"Hang on. A thought just
struck me." Brent's flashlight beams swept over the front of the headstone.
"What the hell are you looking for?"
Brent gave the monument
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