The Garden District

In Fiction on June 18, 2013 at 8:27 pm

Garden District

The Garden District

Philippe Bonté had clubs all over town—Carrollton, Gentilly, the Lower Ninth—but it was Sunday morning, and that meant I’d find him at his Garden District hotel, likely sipping black coffee and balancing some lithe teenage girl on his knee. For a criminal, Bonté kept a surprisingly high profile; his schedule was practically public knowledge, and Madelaine’s story was far from the first I’d heard of the man. I knew he was dangerous.

But as I walked from Madelaine’s apartment, stumbling a bit on the sun-kissed cobblestones, it occurred to me that she was dangerous. She had shot me, resurrected me, and yet she’d somehow managed to convince me she was on my side. The image of her standing naked at the window, the soft light squeezing through her legs, was still fresh in my mind—like a daguerreotype of some half-imaged ghost, beautiful and chilling at the same time. Yes, she was dangerous.

I tried to rationalize it, to tell myself I was being smart by going after Bonté and his Crucible of Death, but the truth was simpler: I was a man, albeit a dead one, and my brain was deteriorating faster than my other parts.

This short story continues my undead detective series, Queen of Hearts. It’s also a response to Andy Black’s Two for Tuesday prompt which, this week, was “Ghost Image.”

If you’re intrigued (how could you not be, am I right?) why not head back to the beginning and read the story from the start? It won’t take long, and I promise there’s alcohol and nudity enough to keep even the most distractible readers engaged!

The whole thing is right here: Queen of Hearts

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  1. I can hear ominous strains of music building here. It seems unadvisable yet inevitable that he confront a man who has the power to restore him to his pre-resurrection state, especially when that includes a bullet hole in his heart… I’m looking forward to seeing how this all plays out. Another great installment…

  2. Great writing.. though catching up will come at another time.. Worked by itself too,

  3. Great incredulity summed up in this sentence “She had shot me, resurrected me, and yet she’d somehow managed to convince me she was on my side. And really like the way your incorporated the prompt.

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