Within these walls

And so, the story goes, part 2

"How?" Renaud asked his wife as they both watched over Pierre Petit's sleep. The boy had handled enough emotions and, knowing his mother to be safe, simply dozed off in her arms. "Was it the oracles, the mysteries, did they come through, for you?" As he spoke, he couldn't take his hands off her, tracing the shape of her face, kissing her fragrant hair, as if he needed constant proof of her presence.

"Would you have questioned a miracle if it had come from the church? What about the doctors? It wouldn't cross your mind to ask for the details of a cure. Let's have this moment." His wife answered, in hope to change the subject. "What happened, happened. You did your part, and I know there was a cost, darling. No one is ever ready to step into the unknown, and you did it, for me, unquestionably, without hesitation."

Renaud was considering a full confession, even if there was no transgression committed, he felt guilty about the woman in the carriage. The mere mention of the oracles made him wonder how much they would have to deal with those foreign presences in their lives.

The answer came soon enough.

A servant came over to announce the arrival of a man at the gates of Rue Renaud.

"Who is it? The sun is barely rising." The master of the house inquired.

"Dunno, monsieur." The woman barely managed to lift her gaze. The servant quarters were aware of Claudette's miraculous recovery, and no one attributed it to benevolent forces. It is known that death has a time, and said timing is wise. To return from the brink, like that, was considered a bad omen. "I'm sorry, monsieur, I mean no disrespect, but the man at the gate asked me to tell y'all this, exactly as he intended. He said to tell Renaud he needs to have a word about his pretty living dead girl of a wife. To come downstairs because there is urgent business to tend to."

"You are dismissed." Renaud was infuriated at the thought of someone openly mocking his wife. Looking through the window, he tried to make out who the unexpected visitor might be. To his surprise, his wife had an answer.

Claudette pressed on his arm, warning.  "Cull your temper, Pierre. Let me go with you. Earlier I told you there must have been a cost, and I'm afraid the cost is evident. There is no such thing as just a little knowledge. You went behind the veil, your eyes were opened and now everything you ignored is becoming visible. I know who is at our door. His name is Lindsey Valois, The Lady favors him. I take it you met the oracle of life?"

"I did," Renaud answered, the tension was palpable.

"I take it did not go well. Brigitte is peculiar. She owes allegiance to no one in particular, and yet is present everywhere. Her center of power is the city of New Orleans. But, being an oracle, she is bound to the city, and therefore, needs to protect its boundaries from others that might want to take it from her.

"The man downstairs is the guardian of the northern gate, a spiritual realm that people must cross when traveling into the city. Not everyone is aware of it, but now you know enough, and that puts you in danger. That is no ordinary man. Don't invite him in, or he will suck us dry without a chance of mercy. He walks in light, but is no less of a vampire."

Renaud looked at her, attempting to find comfort.

Revelations were coming at him at a speed guaranteed to drive anyone mad, but he was the kind of man who played each hand dealt with ease.

"Let's go then."

The man at the gate, dressed in a most elegant suit, a cream-colored pinstripe that enhanced his dark skin and created the illusion of a golden hue against the morning sun. Upon closer inspection, Renaud found his face familiar. He had seen him in New Orleans, where Valois was considered a prominent musician, an accomplished violinist among the free people of color.