Queen of Nothing

6. Queen of Being In Over Her Head

It was the day of my meeting with the mysterious D.L. and I was trying desperately to keep my wits about me. Last night I texted both Tristan and Alexis, asking them if the initials meant anything to either of them. They did not. This morning I contemplated ignoring the note, but something told me this D.L. wasn't going to take no for an answer. When noon came, I put my brave face on and headed out to the Esplanade Avenue address from the card.

Esplanade Avenue was one of New Orleans's historic streets, lined with picturesque nineteenth century manors and shops. King Sheridan took great care in maintaining the city's architectural relics, because all of the houses looked like they were built just yesterday.

There was just one teensy problem. The house number listed on the card didn't exist. The cab driver couldn't find it in his GPS, nor I in mine. After driving up and down the block a handful of times, he gave up and insisted I leave. I wanted to argue, but there was little I could do. It wasn't as if D.L. left me a phone number to call and confirm the right address.

Sighing, I handed the driver my credit card and he ran it. He told me he wasn't going to charge me for the extra time he spent looking for the house, which I supposed was a consolation. Taking my card back, I left the cab and slammed the door.

I stood on the sidewalk, examining the address on the card. I'd scrutinized every house number on this street, looking for the right one and hadn't seen it. By all accounts, 1859 Esplanade Avenue didn't exist, just like the GPS said. Had it really been a mistake? Something told me the mysterious D.L. wouldn't commit such a grievous error. There had to be something at play here. A code, maybe?

I began walking northwest, towards a bed and breakfast where I could hopefully ask for directions. Halfway there, I froze in my tracks. Something stood out in the corner of my eye, something I hadn't noticed previously. I turned, and my jaw dropped open. There it was — 1859, Esplanade Avenue. I've scrutinized every house on my way here, but I didn't recognize this one at all, which was weird because it was impossible to miss.

The facade of the house looked normal enough — white siding, Greek columns, an immaculate front garden. Whoever lived here obviously took great care to ensure it looked pristine. However, the air around it seemed to shimmer, the light hitting it from odd directions. It seemed like a mirage, an illusion from fairy tale realm and not this mortal plane.

Steeling myself, I walked up to the gate and stepped through. As soon as I set foot onto the cobbled path leading to the front door, my senses heightened into overdrive. I could see colors move vividly, smell the tea brewing on the stove through the open kitchen window, hear the flapping of a Monarch's wing as it fluttered by. Then, in a flash, it was all gone. I was left looking at a completely ordinary house.

I knocked on the front door and waited, wondering if I had imagined the sensation. A crow cawed somewhere overhead and I looked up to see one perched on a low branch of an elm tree. Only it wasn't an ordinary crow. It was the blind one that had been popping up around me ever since I arrived in New Orleans.  I had been right. The door creaked open to reveal my elusive host.

"You came! Good," D.L. said, smiling.

She gestured for me to step inside, and I hesitantly obeyed. It was dark in the house, the curtains drawn to block out the light. I briefly wondered if she was a vampire, but dismissed that thought. If she had been, she wouldn't be greeting me at the door at this time of day. Regardless of what she was, she gave me the creeps.

"So who are you?" I decided to come right out and ask. It was rude, but I didn't care. This woman and her strange crow had been stalking me, and I needed to know why.

"My name is Daphne Leclerc," the woman replied, as if that explained anything.

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I meant."