Rachel pulled her hand away. “Not anymore. I’m calling animal services.”
Madam Montfort cackled a laugh. “You think they can capture a rougarou?”
“No offense but what I saw was a real wolf.” Granted a large wolf, but not some Hollywood horror creature.
She met Rachel’s eyes. “It’s in your blood.”
Did she think she was cursed? Why not humor her? “I’m not turning into a werewolf, am I?” Or did she mean her father was a werewolf? Like those old movies where the cursed werewolf leaves his love interest and family so as not to kill them during the full moon. Ridiculous, but based on Howard’s behavior the thought rang true. Except for the fact, werewolves didn’t exist.
“Give me back your hand.”
Rachel furrowed her brow. Maybe, if she did a further reading, she’d learn more about where the mysterious wolf had come from. “Okay.”
Madam Montfort’s breathing grew rapid. “Danger.”
Could she have read in her face, the countless nights she woke in a sweat, thinking she was back in Africa at the hands of terrorists? “You are picking up on how I was taken by the Boko Haram, but rescued and survived Ebola.”
She shook her head, her eyes still shut. “No. That is the past. I see the present and the future.”
“I came here to ask about my friend, Lev. He saved people at the fireworks event from a huge bomb. Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. Alive? But was it false hope to believe a voodoo shop psychic? “I was told no one could have survived the blast. Are you sure?” Dumb question since she had no hard evidence to confirm her statement.
“He is rougarou. Powerful. You belong to him. He took the bomb away to keep you safe.”
“Not just me, but everyone.”
“Yes, of course. The Russian wolf is protective.”
Her blood chilled. “Russian?” Then again, Lev was a Russian name. Everyone knew that.
“From the old line of wolf.”
“You picked up on my sighting of a large wolf not too long ago, but Lev is a normal man.” Poor woman, no wonder she didn’t give readings in a more open area. She had psychic abilities, but no doubt influenced by mental illness. How could she believe Lev was a werewolf? Or still alive. Was there even a point asking about her father?
Madam Montfort dropped Rachel’s hand and shot her a scolding look. “You don’t believe me.”
“I’m a doctor and to be honest, I don’t believe in the legend of the werewolf or local folklore.”
“It’s in your blood. They will co
me for you.”
“What do you mean?”
She took her hand again and closed her eyes. “Your father, he wants to keep you away. Safe. He loves you and fears for you.”
“Why? And what do you mean by blood?”
She rocked and shook her head. “Danger.”
“Should I not travel abroad?” The terrorists who abducted her were all dead. Anyway, she wasn’t returning to her old assignment.
Madam Montfort opened her eyes. “Leave New Orleans.”
“Because of the werewolf?”