The red tail lights of the car shrunk into the distance as we stood outside of Saint Louis Cemetery Number One. “You’d think they’d be surprised when someone wants to go cemetery at night,” Marty said, putting the bag on the ground, angling it into the streetlight glow from across the street. Yellow-orange light gleamed off the guns inside.
“Are you kidding? This is probably the easiest place to blend in. Outside of Bourbon Street, of course. And with the cargo we’ve got, I’d rather avoid as many tourists as possible.”
“We should have Uber’d. After Tallahassee, I’m sure my rating is horrible.”
“I told you we could have walked.”
“And I was too drunk to listen. That’s why I puked.” He looked around. “So, you ready to strap up?”
The streetlights at the end of the block changed, and a single car approached on the other side of the street. None of the buildings or fixtures had obvious cameras, but it wasn’t worth taking a chance. I stared at the wall. “I wish I’d known it was white.”
“I told you we should have Googled it.”
“And when do I ever listen?”
“Fair point.” He slung the bag across his shoulder, hefting the lock at the barred gate. “So how’re we dealing with this?”
“We’re not,” I said, my hand out for the bag.
“What?”
I slid the straps over both shoulders, squatted, and laced my fingers together in an upward facing cup. “Alley-oop.”
He stared at my hands, took a step back, and shook his head. “Nuh uh. Last time I ended up with a broken finger.”
“Unless you’ve put in some time at the gym I don’t know about, you are going to struggle scaling this wall.”
“I could just wait out here.”
“With a bag full of guns? In New Orleans?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be all right.”
“Then let me object. It’s a shitty idea, especially if that dog is in there. I’ll need back up, no matter how sketchy your aim is.”
“My aim isn’t sketchy.”
“Right.” I nodded toward my hands. “Step up.”
With a heavy sigh, Marty put one foot in my hands, and I boosted him. As he rolled over the wall, the crash wasn’t as loud or as curse-laden as I expected, but then again, it wasn’t very tall. He muttered on the other side.
I jumped and caught the top of the wall, the rough stucco abrading my fingertips. “All the better to scrape off fingerprints,” I said as I hoisted myself over.
Marty rubbed his elbows and handed me the holsters for the 1911s. “You need to show me how to do that.”
“You need to build muscle.” I flexed and grinned before adjusting the holster, the leather slung low on my hip, a reassuring weight. “Then, someday, you can carry the big boy guns like me.”
“You look like a character from a video game.”
I looked down at myself, guns strapped to each thigh. “Nah. My boobs aren’t pointy enough.”
Even the dark couldn’t hide his eye roll.
Low, stone buildings loomed in the half-light that crested the stucco wall at my back. “Don’t forget,” I said, threading my arms through another holster, “this is a capture mission. Shoot only as last resort.”
“Right.” Marty adjusted his holster. “And exactly how are we going to capture this hell-hound with lethal force? Club it with the gun?”
“You’re the only one armed for non-lethal force.” I popped open the black plastic case and freed the tranquilizer gun from the foam inside. “I liberated this from Sister Evangeline’s arsenal.” Dart loaded, I slid it into the holster under my arm. “Should be just what we need.”
“Will that work on supernatural creatures?”
I shrugged and eyeballed the darts. “That’s why you’re my back up.”
“How are we getting it back to Helen?”
“Let’s bag it first. We’ll figure that out later.”
“I love how you plan for all the important details.”
I opened my mouth to speak, interrupted by the crunch of gravel.
Marty paused, the second snub-nosed Ruger half-way into his holster.
We waited in the shadows, silent and barely breathing. Another crunch. I pointed at Marty, then down the aisle in front of us. Jabbing a thumb at myself, I gestured to the next row. He nodded in agreement, gun pointed at the ground in a two-handed grip. I chambered a dart in the tranquilizer gun. By the size, it had to be enough. If not, I had five more in my pocket. As long as I didn’t stab myself with one.
We crept around the mausoleums. I kept my foot low to the ground, seeking obstacles and grade changes where the streetlights didn’t reach. Staring hard into the night and straining to hear, silence buzzed through the graveyard.
Another crunch, this one an unmistakable footstep.
I froze. Marty shook his head and pointed to the far corner of the cemetery.
In sync, we stepped between the rows of crypts, guns drawn. Drunken tourists laughed and sang on the other side of the stucco wall. Under the covering rush of a passing car, the crunch and rustle continued, braver and more determined. I wriggled between two of the crypts into the next row, seeing nothing.
A stone rattled across the sidewalk. The crunching steps stopped, replaced by a growl louder and deeper than Helen’s wolf-dog, Fen. My skin crawled. If this thing was bigger than Fen, it would be massive. I hoped the darts would be strong enough to take it down and keep it down long enough to get it to Helen. And that I could reload fast enough to make it matter.
“Oh shit!”
I spun and hurried backward down the path. The menacing growl rose, echoing through the cemetery. When Marty screamed, I sprinted.
One gunshot.
My stomach sank as I looked down the aisles between the close stone mausoleums, my voice a stage whisper. “Marty, where are you?”
He sprawled on the ground at the foot of a crypt, street lights highlighting his back.
I skidded to his side, holstering my weapon and running my hands over him as I called his name. No obvious blood. No noticeable wounds.
He groaned and shifted, his gun scraping on the ground.
“Don’t move.” I fished in my pocket for my flashlight. Covering the bulb with my fingers, I clicked on the light and shined it on my friend. He didn’t look hurt, until I aimed the light in his eyes.
“Ow.” He raised his hand and pushed the light away. “I’m fine.”
Fingers still covering the flashlight, I let a sliver of light fall across Marty’s forehead. “You’ve got a good bruise starting.” With the other hand, I touched it, and he winced. “And a hell of a lump.”
“Not to mention the one you gave me earlier,” he said, rubbing his chest.
I rolled my eyes. “What about the gunshot? What happened? Did you see it? Did it jump you?” I scanned the area, expecting to find the body of the dog. Or at least a blood trail.
“Wasn’t me.” He sat up slowly, rubbing his head. “I saw it, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw the dog, and that thing is huge. No way we’re lifting it over the wall, even if you manage to stick enough darts to take it down.” Marty winced as he pushed himself up to lean against the weathered stone. “Red glowing eyes, by the way. Fucking creepy.”
“And the gunshot?”
“I’m getting there. The dog, or some shadow manifestation of it, was in front of me, growling, glowing eyes. All I could think was ‘oh, shit.’”
“You said it, too.”
“No. Not me.” He rubbed his head. “Someone in black stood behind it with a gun. I saw the gun, turned to run, heard the scream, and I guess I ran into the crypt trying to avoid the shot.”
Whoever fired was probably still here. Possibly watching.
An itch tickled the spot between my shoulders. I resisted the urge to roll them. If someone was watching, it might already be too late, but if not, I might get the upper hand. We had to sound focused on anything but our surroundings. I hoped Marty would catch on.
“What about the dog?” he asked, eyes clear as he winked.
I clicked the flashlight off. “I’ll look around, though it’s probably gone.”
“How? We’re in a walled-in graveyard.”
“It’s a supernatural creature that’s drawn power from cemeteries for millennia. Walls aren’t much of an obstacle.” I hoped he’d see me hold my finger to my lips. Drawing the 1911, I aimed it at the ground away from Marty.
“I guess not.” He tried to get up and staggered against the crypt.
“Stay put. I’m going to see how we can get you out of here without climbing.” I pointed to myself, then a route around the crypts. If whoever fired at Marty was still here, I wanted them off guard. Each slow step made as little noise as possible.
The main gate of the cemetery hung open.
That made one thing easier. And everything else harder.