The Dollmaker. Amanda Stevens

the click of the dead bolt behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the woman’s silhouette in the window, but she quickly shut off the light and pulled the shade.

      Travis stood on the sidewalk for a moment, deciding whether he wanted to go straight home or stop off somewhere for a drink. It wasn’t often he had spare change in his pocket. Might as well do a little celebrating.

      Across the street, a shadow darted into a doorway, and his heart raced. For a moment he thought it was the woman he’d seen earlier on Bourbon Street, but as he peered into the shadows, he couldn’t make her out.

      He was seeing things, probably. A guilty conscience could make a man jumpy.

      Whatever the hell was wrong with him, he couldn’t wait to get out of New Orleans. Too many weirdos hanging around to suit him. He’d leave the city before having that drink. Maybe stop off at a little place he knew on the way home, buy a bucket of shrimp and have a few beers. Later he’d make a liquor store run with Desiree, and the two of them could sit out on his back porch getting shit-faced as they watched heat lightning over the Gulf.

      It all sounded good.

      Hunching his shoulders against a light rain, he headed east toward Bourbon Street. At the corner of Chartres and St. Louis, a group of tourists had stopped to watch an old black man tap-dance beneath a balcony. The rat-a-tat-tat of his shoes resonated in the darkness, and for some reason the sound made Travis feel lonely.

      He stopped to stuff a couple of bills into a beat-up coffee can, then quickly moved on, discomforted by the man’s toothless grin. The old geezer looked to be pushing eighty. He should have been tucked away somewhere in a rest home instead of busting his hump on a street corner in the rain. But that was New Orleans for you. The old didn’t die here. They were just forgotten.

      “You don’t get yourself straightened out, that’ll be you someday, boy,” he could hear his daddy goad him.

      Travis didn’t want to think about his father or the future or even what he was going to do with himself beyond the next drunk. He tuned out the echo of the old man’s taps as he neared the cathedral and turned up St. Peter.

      The street was nearly deserted here except for a woman who stood in the glow of a shop window. She wore a green skirt, and when she moved her head, light sparked off her silver earrings.

      Travis slowed his steps. She was the same woman he’d seen earlier on Bourbon Street.

      Their gazes connected as he approached, and a shiver slid up his spine. She had the palest face he’d ever laid eyes on. He knew he’d never seen her before tonight, but there was something eerily familiar about her features. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

      She smiled, and the skin at the back of his neck crawled. Who the hell was she?

      Spooked by that smile, Travis decided to keep on walking, but as he passed her, she said in a low voice, “Can I trouble you for a light?”

      Not exactly an original line, but curiosity got the better of him and he reached in his pocket for a lighter. Turning, he shielded the flame with his cupped hand as she lifted a cigarette to her lips. They were nice lips. Not too full, not too thin. It was only when she smiled that something seemed off about her mouth.

      She took a pull and slowly exhaled the smoke, then handed the cigarette to Travis. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it, but when he took a drag, she didn’t seem to mind.

      “So what are you doing out here all by your lonesome?” he asked.

      “Killing time.”

      “Kind of dangerous to be here alone. Nothing but freaks in the Quarter.”

      She smiled. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

      That smile. Travis wished she’d stop doing that. It wasn’t a nice smile and it kind of ruined the mood for him. He glanced away.

      “Do you like to party?” she asked.

      “Doesn’t everybody?”

      “My place is just back there.” She nodded toward a narrow alley that ran between two buildings. “Got a nice little courtyard where we can sit and watch the rain. Come on,” she said, and started walking. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

      Her smile might not do anything for him, but the way she walked sure as hell did. Travis followed her into the alley. He didn’t know if she was a hooker or just some bitch out for a good time, but at the moment, he didn’t really give a shit. The money he’d made from the doll was burning a hole in his pocket.

      She was a few steps ahead of him, humming something under her breath.

      “What’s that you’re singing?”

      “It’s an old song. Something my mother used to sing to me at bedtime.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Do you like it?”

      “Yeah, it’s nice.” He hurried to catch up with her. “My mama didn’t believe in music. Or dancing.”

      “How sad for you.” She paused to adjust the strap on her sandal, and when she lost her balance, she grabbed Travis’s arm to right herself.

      He stared down at her in the darkness. She laughed softly, and the next thing Travis knew, he had her backed up against the brick wall.

      She laughed again, a breathy sound that spiked his heartbeat. But when he tried to kiss her, she turned her head so that his lips only grazed her pale cheek. He moved to her ear, then nuzzled her neck as he put a hand on her narrow waist, letting his thumb slide up beneath her breast. She was small there, too, but he didn’t mind. “What’s your name?”

      After a slight hesitation, she said in a husky whisper, “Madeline.”

      “That’s a nice name.” Travis figured she’d made it up on the spur of the moment, but he didn’t care if she had. After tonight, they’d never see each other again, anyway. “You smell good, Madeline.”

      He again tried to kiss her, but she gave him a playful shove. “Take it easy, okay? We’ve got all night. Don’t you want that drink first?”

      He rubbed up against her, grinding his hips against hers. “You know what I want.”

      “Sure I do, baby.” Her hand slid between them and she ran it up and down his fly. “But it’ll cost you.”

      “How much?”

      “A hundred and fifty.” Her hand squeezed him. “You got that much?”

      He fished in his pocket for the money and handed it to her in the dark. “For that kind of dough, you better be something special.”

      “Oh, I am.” She slipped the folded bills into her bra. “I’m very special. You’ve never been with anyone like me before, honey.”

      Reversing their positions, she pushed him up against the wall, then wet a finger in her mouth and traced his lips. “You want it fast or slow?”

      “Right now, I want you on your knees,” he said, and unzipped his pants.

      “Patience, baby. Good things come to those who wait.” Her fingers closed around him as she slid her other hand over his shoulder.

      Travis let his head fall back against the brick wall, his breath quickening as he swelled in her hand. An instant later, he felt a sharp sting in the side of his neck, and pushed her away. “What the hell was that?”

      She smiled in the dark. “You’re going to need something for the pain.”

      “Pain?” His voice rose in fury as he lifted a hand to his neck. “What did you do to me, you fucking bitch?” Light from an apartment overhead filtered into the alley, and he could see her eyes staring back at him. He hadn’t noticed before how blue they were. And then in a flash, it came to him where he’d seen that face before.

      Fear and revulsion rose in his throat a split second before his muscles