Lincoln and I left the house with Ray, Leila, Gray, Carter and Chloe. Carter had looked positively miffed when Lincoln asked him to come with us, but I wasn’t. It was a tactical move. Lincoln had marked him as a potential problem and was including him in the inner circle to ensure he didn’t cause any trouble. Carter was eating it up, hook, line and sinker.
As we followed Ray and Leila down the street I took a few minutes to process – or at least move past – my conversation with Phoenix. I was relieved that Lincoln didn’t ask questions and had chosen to walk with Gray. He was giving me some space.
Still knows me. Still thoughtful.
From what I caught of their conversation, Gray was using the opportunity to smoothly bring Lincoln up to date on his recent call to mobilise the entire Rogue community. Hearing snatches of Lincoln’s heated response, it was safe to assume he wasn’t happy Gray had made this choice before consulting him. But, like me, I could tell he also knew there was little point in dwelling on it now.
‘Whoa! What is this place?’ I asked, after turning the corner. I was suddenly dodging crowds of people and thrown off kilter by the scene in front of me. I tugged Chloe’s arm, manoeuvring us to the side. The street was alive with music and mayhem. People spilled out of clubs and bars for as far as I could see.
Leila smiled, guiding us all to a less crowded area. ‘This is Bourbon Street.’
When it became obvious I was nervous about being in such a public place, she continued. ‘This street is always busy to the extreme. Exiles are everywhere, but humans are too,’ she said pointedly. ‘Plus, half of them are drunk and it helps confuse the vibe. If exiles sense us and start a hunt, it’s easy to get away, and we have a number of exit strategies. We’re safer here than somewhere secluded, trust me.’
I nodded, my mouth agape as I looked around. I had been curious to see New Orleans. I’d heard the stories of its epic nightlife, but nothing could have prepared me for the first taste of craziness. There were so many people, of all ages, and they were all here to party. We passed bars, clubs, restaurants, cabaret places and jazz playhouses. Some guy even tried to drag Chloe inside for a pole-dancing lesson, which sent Carter into hysterics. People not only lined the street but also the balconies that hung over it, all throwing out colourful beaded necklaces, which we had to dodge as we walked through.
And, in the centre of it all, chanting into a megaphone was a preacher standing in front of a large red crucifix proclaiming that the revellers were all going to burn in Hell. He labelled New Orleans the ‘Devil’s playground’; knowing what I now knew and looking around at my first, late-night impressions, I couldn’t help but wonder if preacher-man might just be onto something.
I’d travelled to a lot of cities over the past two years. I’d seen my fair share of red-light districts, and there wasn’t much that affected me any more, but this, this street seeped into my bones and I didn’t know what to make of it.
A sideways glance at Carter told me he viewed it all quite differently. In fact, he looked positively thrilled as he appeared to mentally catalogue the bars he planned to return to.
‘Really?’ I commented, watching as he eyed off a girl hanging out of one of the clubs in nothing but a teeny-tiny bikini.
He gave me a wink. ‘When in Rome …’
‘I’m sure even Rome has clothes,’ I mumbled.
Lincoln, who had been walking behind us with Gray and Ray, laughed. I shot him a hard look and he just shrugged, laughing again.
‘I don’t think I like this place,’ I said.
‘It’s not all bad, Violet. You must be able to sense that, too?’ Gray asked.
‘Yeah, well, right now I’m not feeling it.’
He snorted. ‘Right now all you’re feeling like is a prude. You of all people should know that everything has a balance. For all the bad you see here – and you will – there’s just as much that’s good. And apart from that, we could all do with a few drinks to take the edge off.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Carter agreed.
‘What edge?’ I asked.
‘You don’t feel it?’ Gray asked, raising an eyebrow.
I looked at Leila and Ray, who were watching us carefully, and then at Lincoln, who actually shuddered. ‘I feel it,’ he said, looking unhappy about the admission. ‘I don’t know how you guys can stay here. It’s as if …’
Ray nodded. ‘It’s not easy, but you learn to push the sensation aside.’
I let out a breath, relieved that I wasn’t the only one feeling the urge to turn around and run away. And never, ever stop.
‘We aren’t welcome here,’ I said, finishing what Lincoln had been about to say.
No one replied. There was no need.
A shiver of uncertainty ran down my spine and, as if sensing my concern, Lincoln subtly moved closer to me. And damn him because my soul instantly responded, at once both calmed and ignited.
‘Have you been here before?’ I asked Lincoln as we dropped back a few paces behind Ray and Leila.
‘I have. After my mum died. But things didn’t feel like this back then.’