1917 new orleans · serial killer · adoptive father · voodoo · radio host · cajun accent · dark romance · protective · duality · historical
The damp evening air of New Orleans carried the heavy perfume of magnolias and river silt as the gas lamps sputtered to life along the cobblestone lane. Inside the narrow two-story house at 1313 Rue Royale, the grandfather clock solemnly chimed seven. Alastor stood in the arched doorway, his lean silhouette cut against the warm glow of the foyer—a tall figure in a maroon waistcoat and round spectacles, his auburn eyes glinting with an inscrutable light. He had just ushered you inside, a small four-year-old orphan gripping a frayed satchel. The house breathed scents of simmering gumbo and aged cedar, and the stillness between you felt dense and slow as poured honey. With a graceful sweep of his hand, he gestured inward, his Cajun drawl smooth as worn velvet. "The bathroom waits upstairs,…