Page 43 of Alliance

“Is she okay?” I ask again, feeling like a broken record.

“She’s alive,” Sam says. “And I need you to keep her that way,” he adds the second part in a stern voice and grimly. No longer are we talking about the welfare of his cousin. Now he’s giving me an order.

“What does that mean?” I ask, trying my best not to sound defiant. The thing about our relationship that works, is that I don’t ask questions. Sam gives me a job and I complete it. But this isn’t a job for me, this is a person we’re talking about.

“You need to see her. Make sure no one sees you though. Ya know what I mean?” He looks at me expectantly.

He’s telling me to see her discreetly. “What makes you think that I can help her?” I ask him. My patience with his game is wearing thin. I trust Sam, at least I think I do. But whatever he’s playing here, it’s dangerous. I already almost died from seeing Lana, and the fact that he wants me to visit her discreetly, tells me there’s still a chance that will happen.

Sam’s lips turn upward, just enough to give me a small reassuring smile. “She’s happier after she sees you. She’s stronger too. When she sees you, she handles him better, less fear, ya know.”

“This will help,” he says, slipping a scrap of paper into my hand. “Make it happen, Naz.” He grins, spinning on his heel and leaving my shop.

Just make it happen.

Easy for him to say.

There are only two words and a single number scribbled on the piece of paper Sam gives me,Lafayette Cemetery 1.The place is located in The Garden District, a nice area of the city where rich people are buried.

On the street, blocking the entrance, is a black SUV. In the driver’s seat, I see one of Damien’s enforcers, a tough and big guy named Tony. His hand dangles out the window, a cigarette perched between his fingertips.

I’m not sure what kind of mission Sam is sending me on, but the tone in his voice no longer made me feel like there was an option. The slip of paper laying in my palm felt like an order.

Not that it mattered.

Semantics, really.

Because seeing Lana doesn’t feel like an obligation. A death wish, maybe, but not an obligation. Duty isn’t stopping me from seeing her, it’s the enforcers that guard her from me.

I pull back onto the road, going around the block to the back of the cemetery. If I’m lucky, there will be a second entrance. I park my Jeep on the street behind the cemetery, letting it blend in with the other cars on the block.

My eyes scan the surroundings before I cross the street, looking for anyone who might notice I’m up to something. Down the street, a couple walks with their dog, their attention focused on each other. On the other side, an older man ambles down the sidewalk, his eyes downcast.

I make my way to the opposite sidewalk facing the back of the cemetery. The graveyard is surrounded by an iron fence. The rows of metal don’t do much to keep people out though, the thing is barely as tall as me and it only takes moderate effort for me to climb and lift my body weight over the top. The only real deterrence is the decorative spikes that protrude from the iron every few feet, but it’s easy enough to avoid them.

My feet thud against cobble stone as I land in the graveyard. The tombs stand tall in long rows, towering above the ground. I’m not sure where the Costello tombs sit in this place, but I’m sure that’s where she is.

I start walking in search for her. It feels wrong being here, sneaking into such a sacred place to find a girl I’m not supposed to be with.

I turn right, into another row of tombs. Angels carved from stone hover above me as I walk, and for a second I think I can feel their judgment raining down on me. I never much believed in religion, never thought too long about God, even as my Catholic mother dragged my ass to church every Sunday.

But my roots have taken a bigger hold on me than I thought, because I can’t escape the Angels or their watching eyes. Every turn takes me into another row with another concrete angel staring at me.

I’m beginning to think I’ve gotten lost in the maze of tombs when I see a head of blue hair walking toward me. I turn to the closest stone, pretending to admire the details carved into the stone.

“I know who you are.” The blue hair girl calls over to me. She stops, a few feet away from me, and crosses her arms over her chest.

Shit.

“Listen,” I tell her, “I’m just here to see my mother.” I gesture to the tomb I’m standing at.

A smile rises on her features as she steps closer peering over at the tomb. “Your mother died in 1901, huh?”

Shit.

“I’m not gonna tell on you.” She laughs, leaning in closer. “I’m on Lana’s side,” she whispers. With a pat on the back, she passes by me. “Nice to meet you, Ignazio. She’s one row over.” And then she’s walking away, the sound of her black chucks slapping the cobblestones getting fainter as she goes.

One row over, like she said, I find Lana. Her back is pressed against a smooth granite stone, her head leaned back and looking toward the sky. She’s dressed simply, a pair of black joggers, cinched at the ankle, and a matching black sweatshirt. Her hair is twisted and piled into a messy knot on top of her head.

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