Nightshades of New Orleans

James Quinn

Description

A fast-paced novel portraying dynastic Southern families, driven by apocalyptic events involving vampires, genetic experimentation and a serial killer investigation during Mardi Gras. New Orleans' colorful history is vividly recounted and interwoven in the plot, including notorious hauntings and mayhem for which the city is famous. This character-driven novel keeps the reader in suspense, with its diabolical twists, and turns up to the story's dramatic ending and...beyond.

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 12 décembre 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528964289
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Nightshades of New Orleans
James Quinn
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-12-12
Nightshades of New Orleans About The Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 83 Chapter 84 Chapter 85 Chapter 86 Chapter 87 Chapter 88 Chapter 89 Chapter 90 Chapter 91 Chapter 92 Chapter 93 Chapter 94 Chapter 95 Chapter 96 Chapter 97 Chapter 98 Chapter 99 Chapter 100 Chapter 101 Chapter 102 Chapter 103 Chapter 104 Chapter 105 Chapter 106 Chapter 107 Chapter 108 Chapter 109 Chapter 110 Chapter 111 Chapter 112 Epilogue
About The Author
James Quinn lives in Southern California and is the author of the novel The Vampire’s Orchids . He is an attorney who enjoys writing fiction.
Dedication
Once again, to my wife, Silvia, my muse and soulmate.
Copyright Information ©
James Quinn (2019)
The right of James Quinn to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528925228 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528964289 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgement
I wish to acknowledge my family: Silvia, Cybele, Randy, Fiona and Dylan, for their love, inspiration and encouragement.
Chapter 1
The wind came from the North, unexpected, with a bone-chilling scream that ripped the last of the autumn leaves from the trees lining Main Street.
Father and daughter made their way in the gloaming light, the frail blond girl skipping lightly ahead of the stooped man, dressed in Levi’s and cowboy boots. The girl’s shrill laughter startled the man from his dark thoughts. He watched apprehensively, as she splashed with her yellow rain boots in the puddles left by the passing storm.
Ahead, he noticed the blinking red traffic signal and a limousine making its way towards them slowly down the oil-slicked street. As it passed, the man recognized the elderly gentleman seated in the back of the limousine, his face illuminated by the car’s interior light. Grabbing his daughter’s hand, he hurried the girl onto Magnolia Street, to a shop with boarded windows and a neon pharmacist sign, a beacon of hope, as darkness fell and the storm began in earnest again.
They entered the shop just as another blast of wind and rain descended from the heavens. God’s Judgment, the man thought as the limousine accelerated down Main Street, flooding the sidewalk in its wake.
“Where are we, Daddy?” the girl’s voice betrayed her rising fear. A single neon bulb hung above the shop’s counter, illuminating pale green walls and concrete floor.
“You need to feed Baby Sue,” her father’s voice sounded strange, distant, so unlike the soothing Southern drawl that comforted her each night, when her father read her bedtime stories. The man pounded on a rusty bell on the counter, rousing the pharmacist, who had dozed off in his lounge chair in the back room, watching a game show, having finished off a TV dinner and a couple of beers.
The pharmacist approached them from the other side of the counter. He squinted, his pale face covered by a light-sheen of perspiration.
“What brings you out on a night like this, Luke?” The pharmacist glanced at the girl hopping up and down, clinging to her father’s hand. “She sick?”
Luke looked down at his daughter, noticing her glassy eyes and feverish cheeks. “She needs to feed.”
The pharmacist jerked his head towards Luke. “She a Nightshade?”
The girl backed away from the pharmacist, looming above her like a monster out of a fairy tale.
“Don’t matter. She needs fresh blood,” Luke replied.
The pharmacist leaned over the counter to scrutinize the girl closer.
“Where’s her ma?”
Luke was becoming agitated. “She’s at home baking pies no one’s gonna eat.”
The pharmacist took a step backward, his hands held out in front of him. “I don’t have any. Feller from the hospital just bought the last of my supply. Best go home, the girl needs her ma.”
As he turned away from them, Luke lurched across the counter and grabbed the pharmacist by the neck. “Leave me alone!” he screamed. The scream startled the girl, who began to growl, an unnatural sound that frightened the pharmacist more than the rough handling by the child’s father.
“God forgive me, I have no choice.”
With a swift movement, Luke pinned the flailing pharmacist onto the counter, slitting his throat with a hunting knife, sending a spray of hot red blood across the countertop.
The girl leaped up onto the counter, crouching over the prostrate man, making ungodly sounds that no father should ever hear as she began to feed. Luke broke into a cold sweat, backing away in horror.
“Sweet Jesus,” were his last words as he made his way out of the shop into the storm.
Chapter 2
The ancient oak creaked, battered about by the merciless Northern wind, its branches scratching against the second-floor windows of Moss Glen, the most elegant plantation manor in Oakvale.
The Tasker family had inhabited the mansion for generations. Hugh Tasker struggled with his silk bow tie, staring with agitation into his wife’s vanity mirror at his handsome reflection, green eyes, and jet-black hair, with just a touch of grey. His wife, Claire, was throwing him a dinner party in celebration of his fiftieth birthday.
“Let me help you with that, sugar.” His wife’s reflection loomed up from behind. Pale, dainty hands had the bow tie adjusted with one deft movement. Hugh smiled at the reflection of his wife of thirty years. She had porcelain skin prized by the Southern gentry, her eyes a lovely shade of violet. Hugh knew she was still considered a great beauty, even though approaching fifty herself. Claire was regarded highly within New Orleans society. She also was his greatest asset.
“Is Roxanne coming to dinner?” Hugh turned to face his wife.
“I expect she will. I know she’s been looking forward to celebrating her daddy’s birthday.”
Hugh frowned, “She’s probably out with that good for nothing boyfriend of hers. Has she ever given a damn about my birthday?”
Claire placed her hands on her husband’s shoulders. “Now don’t be hard on her, Hugh, you know how much she loves you.” Hugh laughed. “Loves my money you mean, she sure has no problem spending it.”
Claire glanced at her face in the mirror. The fine wrinkles around her beautiful eyes had not been there on Hugh’s last birthday.
“I’m getting old,” her voice, the soft melodic rhythm of the deep South, never failed to calm Hugh.
“You’re as beautiful as on the day I first met you, honey. I expect I can put up with my daughter’s shenanigans for one night. Who all is coming to this dinner?”
Claire turned to face her husband. “I’ve invited only our most intimate friends.”
There was a knock on the door before the white-gloved butler, Ezekial, entered. He had been with the Tasker family for three generations.
“Cook needs a word, mam.” Claire kissed Hugh on the cheek. “Tell her I’ll be there in a moment, Ezekial,” the butler nodded and left the room.
“I want you at your best tonight darling. Henry Townsend is coming with his wife, Isabelle.” The wind and rain lashed against the French doors.
“I’ll be surprised if anyone shows up in this weather. The Townsends don’t usually accept dinner invitations. The last time I saw Henry was at the Rex Ball last year. How did you manage to get them to come tonight?”
Claire smiled.
“Henry knows how important it is to keep up good relations with the Tasker family. My daddy just deposited a small fortune in Henryʼs bank. The least he can do is honor my husband on his fiftieth birthday. Now hurry up and finish dressing, we can’t have the guest of honor arriving late for his own birthday dinner.” Claire left Hugh to ruminate on the workings of his wife’s social manipulations and whether his daughter would make an appearance at dinner.
Chapter 3
Roxanne turned her classic Ford Mustang onto Oak Road and hit the gas pedal. Alice let out a shriek, hands flying out to brace herself against the dashboard, her baby blue eyes widening in horror, as Roxanne accelerated, exceeding the speed limit.
“Roxanne, stop this car at once!” Roxanne glanced over at her childhood friend cringing in the passenger seat, blond bangs fluttering from the car’s air vents, face pale as a ghost. Roxanne slowed the Mustang, turning the wheel sharply to the right into the parking lot of Junkers. The nightclub’s hot pink neon sign was steaming in a fine mist, the rain having let up.
“We can’t go in there!” Alice turned to stare in disbelief at her friend, who was putting on another layer of her