About the Book
As traiteur to the dead, Raleigh Cheramie should be feeling relieved for the break the dying have given her recently. But as the granddaughter of Barbeaux’s folk healer, she knows it’s a sign of trouble when her unusual genetic inheritance fizzles, especially after a contestant on Barbeaux Bayou’s newest reality show dies in an animal attack straight out of the Cajun folk tales of the area.
But getting involved causes new relationship mayhem and places her right in the tracks of the next attack. As the contestants on her sister’s new small town reality television show Barbeaux Hearts reach endangered species status though, Raleigh Cheramie must figure out the changes in her abilities to help catch a killer before her small town forms a hunting party putting the one’s she cares about in danger.
Excerpt from the Book
Chapter One
“I’m not going to do the horizontal Hokey Pokey with him if that’s what you think,” Madison said, grabbing a cardboard box from the trunk of her silver coupe. “I just think he has a nice ass.”
Raleigh Cheramie stiffened her back against the shudder inching up her spine. Raleigh willingly admitted to some prudish tendencies, but they were talking about the stuffy TV studio manager’s derriere. With the three years he had over their father, not to mention the annoyance of him being their boss, his bottom did not fall anywhere on Raleigh’s radar.
“Besides,” Madison said, shrugging. “He likes blondes. He’s been salivating over Aryanna since the show began.”
Aryanna was one of the contestants on Barbeaux Bayou’s newest craze, Barbeaux Hearts. This travesty was the small Louisiana Bayou town’s attempt at joining the world of reality television. The show itself was primitive at best, but Madison’s “baby” of an idea had hit it off with the locals, and its popularity had spilled over into the neighboring towns as fast as the Louisiana weather changed.
Raleigh was happy for her sister, as she was supposed to be. And that held no sarcasm in her head. At least not much anymore after she’d repeated it to herself for the umpteenth time. She had some serious questions about the whole karma thing not working the way it should since Madison had caused her fair share of trouble in their small town, most notably her recent scandalous sex party business, but maybe Madison had some escape-karma-biting-you-in-the-ass card that Raleigh didn’t have enough karma points to achieve.
One of the Cheramie sisters should be so lucky.
From Madison’s car trunk, Raleigh grabbed the last cardboard box overflowing with donated candle lanterns for the show’s weekly shindig. “I thought you were dating the guy with the dog?”
“The guy” was this long, shaggy haired man with an overgrown beard who always wore t-shirts with weird sayings that required explanations. Never had a more mismatched couple been made, but Raleigh kept judgments to herself because heaven knew her personal life wasn’t above scrutiny.
Trailing behind Madison, Raleigh noticed Mike’s white Jeep parked in its usual spot at the entrance of the station. Raleigh and Mike, Barbeaux Gazette’s reporters, worked most days of the week, but Raleigh had also agreed to assist Madison in producing her reality show. And since most of the show filmed on weekends, Raleigh couldn’t remember when her last day off had been. Perhaps three weeks ago when she’d volunteered to take Me’Maw to the doctor’s office. It had taken all afternoon with the blood work, and it had almost felt like a vacation.
Madison’s button nose scrunched up in disgust as she scanned her badge in near the door. “He thought he was dating the old me. You know, man’s fantasy version, complete with costumes and role playing. I’m just too tired after work to pretend that he’s like pain perdu in bed, when he’s really just plain sliced bread on his best day.”
As the supposed dating expert on her reality show, she should know to steer her own dating efforts towards another town where no one knew her past. Everyone knew everything there was to know about you in Barbeaux Bayou… sometimes even before you knew it. Cousin Jolie had found out that Will was going to propose marriage from Ms. Maude who’d seen Will buy the ring as she’d been getting her new glasses from Lens Perfect, next door to Bayou Jewelry. By the time Will had walked down to Phil’s hardware clutching the jewelry box proudly in his hand, Ms. Maude had called half their neighborhood, including Cousin Jolie’s dad, who Will had planned to talk to that night at dinner. If Madison wanted to date, she should date in another state.
Raleigh kicked the door open and the dark, cool interior swallowed them. On Sundays no one worked in the front offices. Raleigh glanced towards the direction of the cubbyholes, but Mike’s usual light didn’t shine in the darkness. He must be somewhere in the mix of backstage workings where the actual production took place on the weekend. Madison and Raleigh placed the boxes down in the large recording studio, and then crossed toward the light shining from the small window in the door of the editing room.
As they approached, the gray door swung open, and Francois’s head emerged. “Finally,” he grumbled.
Not one for pleasantries, Francois spent most of his time mumbling under his breath these days about greedy people and shoving it all up their you know what. Raleigh tried to chalk his attitude up to stress. Besides from two talk shows, a fitness show, and a cooking show, the BBTL (Barbeaux Bayou television) studio did not usually spend much effort on local programming. Francois had grown lazy over the last fifteen years. A reality television series had proven a bit much for him. Sure, they’d hired a few camera guys right out of college to help out, but their lack of budget meant some creativity with filming, and Francois wasn’t much for creativity. Or work. Or effort. He had attitude to spare though.
“Footage ready?” Madison said, putting the box down.
Francois shrugged. “It’s your job to tell me, remember?”
Madison rolled her eyes. “After twelve episodes, I know, I get it.”
Raleigh pressed her lips firmly together to avoid her emerging smile. Madison and Francois hadn’t exactly hit it off. In fact, Francois’s laziness and stone age habits grated on Madison’s impatience and short-temper. There’d been a screaming match between the two just last week when Madison accused him of stealing a granola bar. Of course, it had really been over the not so easily resolved difference in editing styles for the show. Raleigh considered watching someone get under Madison’s thick skin a perk of this job. Heaven knew that Madison had done more than her fair share of this to Raleigh since she was born.
Raleigh followed Madison and Francois into the editing room where a row of flat-screen television screens rested on top of tables with several dilapidated chairs scattered across the room. On the left screen, a pretty blonde with a sprinkling of freckles was frozen in a more flattering way than the usual terror-filled widened eyes look she managed every time the camera focused her way. Clara Boudreaux’s shyness hadn’t brought her popularity or proved attractive on the shallow matchmaking show, even though she’d shown potential in her audition.
“How did Clara’s interview go?” Madison asked, sliding into a chair on the computer to the right. With her hand on the mouse, she popped open several video files at once, images splaying across the screens.
“Better today.” Francois shook his head. “But she’s still the wallflower of the group, and I’ve noticed she doesn’t get as flustered one on one with the camera.”
Raleigh leaned over and clicked the play button on Clara’s screen. Clara’s pale oval face became animated, but her eyes didn’t meet the screen or look directly at anyone beyond the screen.
“I don’t think it’s fair that some of these girls… well, some of them… I really shouldn’t say anything, I suppose.”
Raleigh groaned. Editing Clara into the hour episode was impossible most weeks because she gave them nothing usable. This was just more of the same.
Francois grinned. “Wait.”
Clara’s brown eyes finally looked directly into the camera, right at the three of them in the editing room. An uncomfortable oddness came over Raleigh. Even after twelve weeks, it still felt strange having the people she spent her time with stare back at her from a television screen.
“I know who I want when this show ends. I’ve always known. But this show will end and all these women will stop acting like sluts for the camera, and then he’ll notice me. That’s what happens to two-bit hoes when they are seen for what they are. They will lose out.”
“Oh my,” Raleigh said, bracing herself on the back of the nearest chair. Clara had another side to her, and it had not learned to just say bless your heart like any normal southern girl.
Madison smiled. “Well, won’t that add a bit of hot sauce to this week’s menu.”
Raleigh frowned. Frankly, more hot sauce wasn’t what they needed. A fire hose to cool this crazed bunch down would be better served.
“Make notes.” Francois handed Madison a clipboard. “I’m going out for a smoke.”
Madison nodded as she clicked to replay the clip back.
Raleigh didn’t care for that focused look in Madison’s eyes. This show had been like dumping live crawfish in a boiling pot and only turning the stove to simmer so you could watch them swim around a bit before they died. Trouble had simmered from the introduction mixer, and Madison had enjoyed stirring the pot and watching them swim. On national television that might be what people wanted, but Madison and Raleigh lived in a small town. Raleigh had just bought a house, and she didn’t want to be chased out by a lynch mob when the show ended because the crawfish rebelled.
“Madison.” Raleigh sighed. She knew talking sense into Madison was impossible, but she still tried, on a daily basis. “I think that may be going too far. Do we want to show a brawl on television?”
Madison smiled that perfect teeth smile, the smile that Raleigh now referred to as the television smile. When Madison was fourteen, Raleigh called it the evil smile.
“It’s exactly what we want.” Madison jotted down a few words on the clipboard. “Everyone is watching now, from Barbeaux to Houma. If we could get New Orleans to notice, we’d be set. It’s the only way to get a second season.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this again, but we live here with these people.”
Nodding, Madison ignored her and continued scribbling. Deon Soignet came onto Madison’s screen, his cocky grin and warm honey eyes playing for the camera. As one of the standout contestants with the female demographics, Deon garnered much air time that Raleigh didn’t believe he deserved, but to be fair, he was the father of her close friend Sheri’s son, and a horrible one at that. After only two months sobriety, he was using the show to gain sympathy for his upcoming custody hearing, at least in the court of public opinion. The man was a sleaze bag. At auditions, Madison had believed him perfect for the camera though.
“I need a good woman so my son can have a good role model, you know.” He smiled, his face the picture of sincerity. Even that dimple on his right cheek perfectly fitting the image. “I’m not sure which one would be a better mother though. I’m hoping for a little help from the audience in deciding.” He winked at the screen. Raleigh could vomit. Shawn had a perfectly fantastic mother, and he didn’t need one of these desperate women to screw him up.
Madison tapped her pencil on the clipboard. “I wish he’d shut up about that already. He already gets the sympathy vote from the audience. He can stop going on and on about it.” She glanced at Raleigh, one eyebrow raised. “Maybe you can talk to him?”
“Me?” Raleigh narrowed her eyes. “You may want to rethink that.”
“Oh, all right.” Madison groaned. “I will. You can work more with Clara and get her to come out of her shell during the challenges. She’ll still be single when the show is over if she continues shying away from the camera.”
“Maybe we should find out who the guy is that she obviously wants and see if we can get that on screen.”
Madison nodded. “You do that and then maybe at one of the next challenges we can try to get some sparks to fly. The finale is in less than three weeks. We need as many matches as possible.”
Madison chewed on her lip, staring at the television screen. Madison’s dream was to start a matchmaking business, and she wanted this to be the start of it. Apparently, some random comment Raleigh had made months ago had sparked a fire in that brain of Madison’s, and she’d pursued it like a mother bear with a lost cub. Within two weeks, Madison had put a proposal together for this show and had worked her way into Nolan Delacroix’s, the owner of the station’s, good graces, and had the green light to push ahead with a miniscule budget that Madison had spent the next two weeks tripling by gaining sponsors. In the midst of this, she’d outlined the business that would pick up where the show’s season left off in a few weeks.
Madison’s finest quality was determination, and Raleigh had to give that to her. Raleigh had never thought the former stripper, ex-whore house owner had it in her to go legit, but Madison had put everything she’d learned into this new venture.
But Raleigh also knew that Madison was worried that the show wouldn’t be enough to propel the business forward. She needed the grand finale, a huge Mardi Gras ball, to leave a lasting impression, but the contestants’ matches were lukewarm. Not too many sparks flying.
Raleigh wasn’t sure that this planned lasting impression was the right impression either. The older residents of Barbeaux Bayou didn’t like certain risqué scenes like last week’s tops-off side show with two contestants who’d snuck off to the woods during the live taping. Madison’s show had put Barbeaux Bayou in the spotlight, but the question became what were they spotlighting.
The door of the editing room swung open, and Francois stumbled in clutching his stomach.
Raleigh sprang away from her chair and from him, as he looked a little green. She hesitated moving in to aid him, unclear what was wrong.
Madison had turned at the interruption. “Well, what’s wrong with you?” Madison snapped.
“Out…outside.” His body trembled. He clutched his stomach tighter as he doubled over. “So much blood.”
Blood. Raleigh’s first thought this morning was that she’d managed three weeks without a dead body, and it had been nice not to see death. Looking at Francois, she recognized the look of death. That grim set around the mouth. The pasty flesh. The twitch around the jaw that fought the urge to hurl. Oh, no. That look. Wait. Mike hadn’t come find her yet. She rushed past Francois, her heart thundering with the thought of a missing Mike among the offices.
Raleigh flung the back doors of the studio open where they’d had a social mixer just last night and where she also knew the smokers went to have their nicotine fix. She registered Madison stumbling out after her as her eyes searched the area where lights were still strung up and picnic tables were still scattered around the area. Pirogues had held ice and beer only last night, though now they stood resting against the trees of the tree line.
After a moment of frantic, unfocused searching, Raleigh settled on a crumpled body in a clear patch just before the tree line. A lump of blue fabric and lumps of brown and maroon jutted out, indicating something besides the trees and grass at least. Raleigh sprinted toward the body. Even with the setting sun, thirty feet away she could see that it wasn’t Mike’s sun bleached hair attached to a mess of a body. She slowed some so that she skidded to a stop five feet from the mangled remains.
Blood seeped from rips and mangled tears. Revulsion shuddered through her as she realized the body appeared chewed up and spit out.
Except for one cut across his cheek, Deon Soignet looked like he had only minutes ago on the screen, except for those lifeless eyes staring up at them.
The now familiar electrical tingling in her skull jolted her from her frozen stance.
She’d seen a dead body before. For heaven’s sake she was Raleigh Cheramie, traiteur to the dead, after all. Her grandmother was Barbeaux’s leading expert on everything that ailed its people. The living people that was. Raleigh’s curse was the ailments of the dead.
She connected to the dead as they were dying to spend their last moments with the spirit before it moved on, and she’d basically became a hotline for Barbeaux’s dead over the last few months as word had gotten out about what she could do. Gretchen Melancon had forgotten to tell her son that she’d left her savings in the mattress in the guest room last month before she died, so of course, Raleigh had connected with her as she was leaving her body during a heart attack. People didn’t even have to like Raleigh to connect to her and curse her with experiencing their death.
Except Deon lay mangled before her, and he didn’t like her.
She looked up at the orange and golden sky waiting for it to fall in on her because obviously the world had to be ending if she hadn’t had to experience this horrible death. Someone up there wasn’t usually that generous.
The clouds were still and the sky beautiful. Nothing would be falling in on her today, but Deon’s last moments had slipped away with him, as well as any clues as to what had mutilated him.