Chapter Four
“So are you finally ready to talk about it?” Jade asked, as Ophelia held Theo, Jade’s six-month-old son, in her arms. He smelled of sweet baby powder mixed with floral teas from Jade’s ever-growing collection.
Ophelia had enough therapy to know that the overwhelming sadness and fear she was feeling would not be made better by lying in bed all weekend.
She needed to externally process it with someone, and her best friend had the most soothing and calm nature of anyone she’d ever met.
She had told Jade briefly over the phone what happened and asked if she could come over and hold Theo for a little bit before they delved into it.
“Where do I even begin?” she asked Jade as she placed a sleeping Theo in his bassinet.
She recounted the day’s events in detail this time, while skipping over her dream about the tiger, which now seemed like a premonition.
She had never actually told Jade or Jolie about the Exodus verse and the tiger in New York.
All they knew was that there was an attack.
Bringing it up now would sound equally as insane as it would have been the first time.
Plus, Jade was a mystic, and anything inexplicable could be attributed to the universe, a goddess, or a haunted relation trying to break through some fifth dimension to deliver a message.
Ophelia wasn’t ready to hear any of that right now.
“This sounds very ritualistic. Very hateful. Poor Delphine,” Jade said in a hushed tone.
“I know.” Ophelia shook her head in disgust. “That’s the first thing I thought, too.
I need to call my mom at some point and let her know so she can get a hold of Mawmaw to tell her.
” Mawmaw couldn’t hear over the phone, and texting was too hard on her arthritis, so Ophelia typically communicated with Mawmaw via her mother or Aunt Susan, and for non-urgent updates, she used good old-fashioned letters.
For something as important as this, Ophelia’s mom would know the best way to get a hold of her.
Ophelia’s buzzing phone interrupted their conversation. It was a group text from one of her neighbors saying the police had released details on the incident to the local newspaper. Ophelia clicked on the link in the text.
NEW ORLEANS POLICE DEPARTMENT SEARCHING FOR SERIAL KILLER TERRORIZING CITY
New Orleans, Louisiana— Delphine Dumas, 77, the former owner of renowned French Quarter Voodoo shop, Delphine’s House of Voodoo, was found dead early this Friday morning at her home in the Carrollton neighborhood.
Police have reason to believe that this is not an isolated incident, declaring the murderer a serial killer. The murder of Dumas provided a link to other homicides in New Orleans from the past six months that displayed similar patterns.
Ophelia’s heart sank, and she could feel her whole body sinking with it.
“What happened?” Jade asked as she leaned over Ophelia’s shoulder to look at her phone.
“The police are saying that whoever killed Delphine is a serial killer. The end of the article states that there are two other open cases that are linked to Delphine’s.” Ophelia handed Jade the phone for her to read the article herself before doubling over and cradling her face.
Ophelia greatly valued her autonomy, and she could only do that as a single woman living alone if she felt safe.
She had felt unsafe before, and she had worked hard to get that sense of security and comfortability back when she lived in New York.
She had felt secure in her home in New Orleans.
Her little cottage was safe, and it was hers—until today.
How could someone tarnish the city I love?
Ophelia took pride in her hometown, and while it wasn’t perfect with evenly paved roads and a functioning government, it was still hers.
It was where she was born. Where she would always come back to.
Where her friends and family lived. Where her blood had survived for over five generations.
Well, her ancestors had lived in Louisiana, not necessarily New Orleans, but New Orleans was an extension, a representation of the state at large.
And every time something bad happened to New Orleans, a city that had been through so much, it felt like a kick in the gut just as you were trying to get up.
Everyone was constantly telling her not to live there because of the crime, the roads, the hurricanes, and the list went on.
I’m not leaving.
Ophelia could hear her parents’ voices again, asking her to move to a suburb of New Orleans like them, trying to convince her with its safety and affordable housing.
No. This is my home.
New Orleans was a place that pulled in its denizens with the sensual allure of music, food, and spellbinding curiosities while pummeling them over the head with the force of Mother Nature, a lurking Sea King, and mortals’ base tendencies to be carelessly violent, messy, and destructive.
Living in New Orleans meant choosing to defy common sense.
It was appealing to Ophelia in ways she found difficult to express, even to herself.
It was like feeling life and death at the same time, the epitome of what life had to offer, the dichotomy of a hurricane party.
As someone who constantly sought control, she liked that New Orleans forced her into the chaos of life.
“Are you okay, Ophelia?” asked Jade. Ophelia looked up from her hands and stared at Jade’s big chocolate eyes.
“I don’t know. I’m so goddamn angry that someone would do such a thing to Delphine,” she said, letting out a heavy sigh. “And I’m also scared, too. I’ve always felt safe in my house, and now I feel as if I was stripped of that today.”
The sound of the front door opening and deep voices talking pulled her out of her thoughts. Jade’s husband, Luke, and his friend Etienne walked through the door, gym clothes drenched in sweat.
“Oh, hello, ladies,” Luke said and bent over to kiss Jade on the cheek. “I didn’t know you were stopping by,” Luke said to Ophelia with a welcoming smile.
“Just a last-minute hang.” Ophelia shrugged.
“I’d give you a hug, but I’m sweaty from beating Etienne’s ass in basketball.”
“I can see,” Ophelia said in mock disgust at his sweat.
Ophelia strained to keep her eyes trained on Luke, but her traitorous body couldn’t help but look at Etienne.
His dark brown curls were damp with sweat, making the coils tighter, and his cheeks were flushed from working out.
His sweaty shirt clung to his muscles, and his basketball shorts had the same effect as gray sweatpants.
And she could smell him from the couch, not in a bad way.
She just recognized the way he smelled— tree bark, fresh air, and soap.
This time, his scent was muskier from basketball.
Ophelia had a weird thing about smells. Always had.
Her high school boyfriend, her first love, smelled like her teen years: bottled cut grass, pine trees, salty sweat, and strawberries.
A scent she’d never forget. And scents weren’t limited to just men.
Her mother smelled of Lancome makeup, coffee, and lavender.
Jolie smelled like a honey-baked ham, and growing up, she’d jokingly nip at Jolie’s arm and say she tasted like Thanksgiving dinner.
Evangeline smelled pink, all poppies and cotton candy.
She even used her sense of smell like others used their “gut instinct.”
“Hey, E,” she said.
He locked eyes with Ophelia. The corner of his mouth lifted, and his dimple popped through his beard. “Hey, O,” he said.
Etienne was technically a friend of Luke’s from high school, but he had evolved into somewhat of a staple in Ophelia’s overarching friend group.
She originally met Luke, Etienne, and Ben, the third member of their friendship trio, in college at LSU.
At the time, Etienne was on the med school track and was constantly studying, so she barely saw him out at bars or parties in college; when she did, he was always cornered by a gaggle of women fawning over his brooding mystique and good looks.
But he had accomplished what he set out to do. He was now a doctor— a general practitioner in New Orleans, to be more specific.
Over the years, Ophelia learned that it was unlike him to express his emotions.
Instead, he kept them inside, turning them round and round like gemstones in need of polishing.
But when he did speak, everyone listened because they knew it would be something important or profound or so perfectly funny they did not want to miss it.
The word Ophelia would use to describe their current friendship would be “strained.” Not because something happened between them, like an argument.
No. The exact opposite, in fact. Nothing had ever happened between them.
They were like two magnets attempting not to smash into each other every time they were in one another’s vicinity.
“Ophelia, you staying for dinner?” asked Luke. “We’re grillin’.” Luke didn’t wait for a response, heading straight for the kitchen to prep.
Ophelia hesitated to respond, unsure if she wanted to stay or if she wanted to head back home and decompress more. Her mind felt chaotic, and she was itching to write it all down in her journal, so she could process it better. Before she could answer, Jade cut in.
“I actually think you should stay the night, babe. You shouldn’t stay at your house alone tonight.”
Etienne looked at her curiously. “What happened?”
“Umm…a lot happened today. I’ll let Jade do the full recap, ’cause I’m wiped from talking about it, but Avery’s grandma was killed by a serial killer. Avery found her this morning.”
“Fuck… fuck,” Etienne mumbled in disbelief. “I’m so sorry, O.”
Luke came barreling from the kitchen. “Whoa! What the fuck happened?”
“Hold on. Let’s decide what you are doing tonight before we go into all this mess again,” Jade demanded.
Ophelia weakly nodded. “I’ll stay here.” She wasn't sure if she should be left alone quite yet, and she was not sure if it was even safe to return to her house. God, she despised this feeling.
Ophelia told the group she needed to call her mom, so she stepped outside to the back porch for some privacy. She hoped that Jade would fill them in on the rest of the story.
After the lengthy call with her mother, Ophelia returned inside to Jade, who had Theo wrapped around her body and was placing a vintage coupe in Ophelia’s hand.
“For you. It’s a lavender and gin cocktail with some CBD drops.”
“You’re a goddess,” said Ophelia as she took a sip of the herbaceous drink. “Where are Luke and Etienne?”
“Luke is showering, but Etienne’s flavor of the month called, so he bailed on dinner.”
“You mean Sarah? The girl from Mardi Gras?”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see how much longer that lasts. You know how Etienne is with his hoetation of blondes.”
Ophelia barked a laugh. “That I do.”
“What about you?” asked Jade. “I feel like we haven’t discussed gentlemen callers in a while.”
“Honestly, my last hookup was with Ben, and that was…yikes.” Jade and Ophelia both grimaced.
“Since then, I’ve been busy with Healing Artists, Prytania Botanica, and my hot pink vibrator.
” The choice to hook up with a friend in her circle was one she did not think was so wise in hindsight.
But the horny brain wanted what the horny brain wanted, and at that moment several months ago, Ben was a man offering her pleasure.
Jade nodded. “Heard that.”
“You? What’s the sex life like for a postpartum mom with a six-month-old?”
“Umm, I’m in the starfish phase of my sexuality. I’m so exhausted that when we do have sex, I just lie there like a marine invertebrate and let Luke do all the work. I mean, I still love it and want to do it, but my energy is zapped.”
“I can’t even imagine. I feel like the fact that you’re even having sex right now is amazing.
” Ophelia took a sip of her drink and examined her beautiful best friend.
Jade was part Honduran with gorgeous Pantene Pro-V hair and caramel skin.
She was an amazing mother, and Ophelia found so much joy in watching her evolve into the next phase of her life.
Ophelia, Jade, and Luke devoured the home-cooked meal, then rested on the couch with Gilmore Girls, Ophelia and Jade’s feel-good show, until they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer and headed to bed.