A/N: Double update weekend! If you are not familiar with NOLA, the French Quarter is full of history that revolves around the supernatural (ghosts, vampires and dark magic). As always thanks for reading and the great reviews.

"Why are we stopping here?" Meredith asked as Chris pulled into the parking lot of a local bakery.

"You'll see," he said mysteriously before hopping out of the driver's seat and dashing inside. A few moments later he returned with a white oblong shaped box.

"Is that a cake?"

"Yep."

"Are we bringing our own dessert?" Brody asked as the smell of fresh pound cake filled the cab of Chris's truck.

"No."

They drove for several minutes making small talk until they reached their destination in the French Quarter: 913 Peter Street. Reverend Zombie's Voodoo Shop.

Brody's first thought was that they were here to examine something that had to do with the case. But that thought quickly faded when she saw LaSalle get out of the truck with the cake.

"A voodoo shop? Are you kidding me?"

Once again, LaSalle helped her from the truck. When she was safely on the ground, Chris tucked the cake under one arm and let the other fall to the small of her back so that he could guide her to the chosen spot. A crowd of people had gathered several feet away from the entrance.

"Chris, why are we here?" Brody asked as they were approached by a mysterious looking man wearing a tattered top hat and black cape.

"Welcome to Haunted History Tours!" the man's voice boomed. "I hope you've all brought an open mind because tonight you will experience things that cannot be explained; Black Magic and the history of Voodoo in the French Quarter."

"This is so stupid," Brody growled as the man made his way through the crowd, directing them to follow. While she enjoyed the ambiance of the city, she had yet to partake in any of the touristy type of attractions.

"Just relax and enjoy it," Chris said offering her his elbow.

"The least you could have done was told me to wear better shoes!" Brody hissed as her heels began to click on the sidewalk. Taking his arm, they walked for several blocks where they listened to stories of Voodoo practitioners and the influence they had on the Cajun and Creole culture.

From time to time the tour guide would stop and point out a famous building where dark magic supposedly had caused some sort of horrific happening. One house in particular caught Brody's attention. It was a mansion on Royal street where back in the 1800s it was said that the owner was to have tortured and murdered several slaves. The slaves in turn, cast a curse upon the owner and shortly afterwards she fell from the roof of the mansion to her death. Although Brody found the tale to be entertaining it was just that.

About half way through the tour they stopped at small tavern for a break.

"You want a drink?" LaSalle asked offering to treat.

"Yes, please and make it a double." She was going to need something strong to make it through the rest of this bullshit.

When the tour resumed, Brody once again took his arm and tried to make the most of what she considered to be a pitiful excuse for wasting money. She hoped that Chris had at least used one of connections to earn a hefty discount.

As they came to their final stop, Brody felt a sudden chill in the air, prompting goose bumps to rise up onto her exposed flesh. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a thin black sweater and pulled it over her shoulders.

ST LOUIS CEMETARY NUMBER 1

"This is near our crime scene," she said, earning heated looks from the rest of the crowd.

Chris gave her a look of his own as they started into the cemetery.

He had to admit for someone who had just been bitten by a cottonmouth she was doing pretty well. He'd only taken her half-seriously when she said he wanted to go out to a Jazz club, so he thought he'd make the most of it. He could see that the dead rat on the door had upset her more than she was willing to admit. More than likely it was someone's idea of a childish prank, but then again she did have a Voodoo curse hanging over her head.

Brody looked at her partner curiously as they stopped at the grave marker of Marie Laveau. It was just a few feet away from their crime scene. "I don't get it. What is going on here?" she asked as people from the crowd began placing gifts at the foot of the headstone.

"You need to give her the cake," Chris explained pushing the cake in her hands.

"Give who the cake?" The Voodoo Queen?

"This is ridiculous," she scoffed as she dropped to her knees and placed the cake at the headstone alongside the other gifts and trinkets. She then gazed up at Chris who motioned for her to apologize.

"I don't understand the dark side of your religion, but I'm sorry if I have offended you or any member of your teachings."

When she was finished she reached for Chris's hand. Gently, he helped her to her feet.

"Are you still up for a little Jazz?" he asked watching a grin of relief slide across her face.

Chris took her to one of the most intimate Jazz clubs in the city. It was little hole in the wall place down in Garden district. The music was some of the best in the city, sporting a smoke free bar and an outdoor beer and wine garden.

"And here, I thought you never left the French Quarter," Brody smiled as she slipped off her sweater to reveal her tone arms. LaSalle had to admit, she looked good in the fitted cream tank and black skirt.

"I come here from time to time," Chris smiled as the waitress handed him a beer on tap. For the next couple of hours, they listened to music and enjoyed the ambiance of the garden. For Brody this brought a much welcomed change from LaSalle's continued notion that she was cursed.

"So, do you think the Voodoo Queen has forgiven me yet?" she asked, looking up at him with glassy brown irises.

"I don't know," Chris chuckled, guessing that the alcohol and medication they'd given her at the hospital were starting to wreak havoc on her system. In addition to the shot of tequila at the tavern, she'd only had a glass and half, but he could tell by her actions that she was sporting more than a buzz.

"Let's dance!" she beamed reaching across the table for his hand.

Chris looked down as their fingers began to touch knowing that if he went out on that dance floor, things were more likely going to change between them.

"He started to protest. "You heard Loretta at the Navy Ball, I can't keep up."

Brody rose to her feet and extended her hand. "It's a slow song. I think you can keep up."

Before, he knew it they were cheek to cheek swaying to the soft sounds of a local jazz band.

"We shouldn't be doin' this," Chris whispered into her lips as her fingernails grazed the skin on his neck. Without much effort, she had woven her own spell, one of which he couldn't comprehend other than the fact that she was suddenly so damn irresistible.

"I still want to know what makes you smell so good," Brody murmured taking his mouth, her hand increasing the pressure on the back of neck, letting him know that she was in charge.

Reacting to her kiss, Chris dug his fingertips into her hips as a tickle started to form in his lower gut. He wanted to resist but his resolve was fading fast. It had been a long time since a woman had initiated a kiss like that. Damn, she tasted good. If only she wasn't his partner he thought as the song ended and the kiss died to slow, soft pecks.

Slowly, she looked up at him, noting the conflict in his eyes, "Guess, I'm still cursed."

"I guess so," he swallowed feeling his chest tighten as she turned and walked away.