I tend to feature places that I know in my books and stories. Although that isn’t always the case, it’s true of Into a Vault of Blood.
One of the reasons why I set the novella in New Orleans is I’ve always been fond of The Big Easy. I love the architecture and the funky shops and the great cuisine, and yes, those amazing beignets from Cafe Du Monde. I love the street music and the rowdiness of the French Quarter. I also love the city’s long association with magic and the occult.
When my husband and I were last there, we joined a walking ghost tour of the French Quarter. It was a terrible night for the outdoors. There was strong wind, and rain and lightning. However, it was the only free evening we had and we didn’t want to cancel.
So we set out on the tour. Umbrellas were useless in the wind, and we were soaked within minutes. There were few people about, and we had the dark streets to ourselves. And boy, did the weather add atmosphere and amplify the spookiness. The places we saw included the rebuilt mansion of socialite and suspected serial killer Delphine LaLaurie (1787-1849), and the site where the home of famed voodoo priestess Marie Laveau (1801-1881) once stood.
I still remember lightning forking across the sky as the tour guide led us from one haunted location to another. Rain and thunder drowned out most of what the guide said. When it didn’t rain, the night jasmine filled the humid air with its incredible fragrance.
Happy memories.
