by M. D. Massey
His long, thin face looked down on me, and his dark, deep-set eyes fixed on mine.
“’Dis not your concern, druid,” he said in a raspy, hollow voice. “Go on den, back to your yard of junk, and leave ’dese matters to ’da loa and Guédé.”
At that, the slenderman—because that’s what he was, and hell if I was ever going to think of him otherwise—snatched the rev off the roof with one long, thin hand, tucking him into a pocket in his coat. He stepped back into the trees in one smooth motion, displaying a lot more speed and grace than I’d have expected from such an ungainly-looking creature.
“Oh no you don’t,” I said as I sprinted after the slender giant.
I was past the house and in the backyard when the tall man looked back over his shoulder at me. He sneered slightly, snapping one foot back in a kick that reminded me of someone kicking a dog snapping at their heels. I caught the heel of his massive, size fifty shoe right in the gut. As he followed through, I went sailing across the street, over the houses on the other side and into the yards beyond.
7
I landed on a discarded, rusted washing machine, partially crushing it as it broke my fall. Thankfully, the thing had been scavenged for parts sometime in the distant past, so it was mostly an empty husk that collapsed under my weight. Still, it didn’t make for the most pleasant landing. I’d definitely be feeling the after-effects in the morning.
Janice arrived just as I managed to disentangle myself from the remains of the washer. My bumps and bruises had healed already, so I released my stealth-shifted form. If I held it now, it’d be harder to fully shift later. Something told me I was going to need every advantage to beat whatever that thing was that had punted me across the street. Meanwhile my date paced back and forth as she decried this latest development.
“Damn it, Colin—that files de pute took off with my necklace. C’est des conneries!” she hissed.
I stood, taking a moment to examine and simultaneously lament my shredded dinner jacket and dress shirt. Janice continued to pace and curse, so with nothing better to do I discarded my ruined clothing, replacing it with a warm hoodie that I pulled from my Bag. I kept the slacks and dress shoes, since they were ruined anyway and I didn’t have time to change into clothing that would be more appropriate for fighting a thirty-foot-tall slenderman.
After a time, Janice settled down, at least enough to make me think it was safe to approach her. I had no idea how powerful she was, but being the granddaughter of a major loa, I could only assume she could punch above her weight. And I for one did not want to end up on the wrong side of a nasty voodoo curse. Not that Janice had ever indicated she was the type to do such things, but it never hurt to tread carefully around practitioners of witchcraft and other such arts.
“So, you want to tell me about the beanpole?” I asked as I pushed my sleeves to my elbows.
Janice stopped pacing, turning on me with her hands balled in fists. “Who is he? Oh, he’s just the second nastiest boogeyman in all of Haitian folklore. And now, he has Gran’s necklace. Aw hell, she’s gonna kill me for sure!”
I laid a hand on her shoulder. “Now, now, let’s calm down a minute and work this through. What’s so special about this boogeyman, and why does he pose such a challenge to us in getting that necklace back?”
“Colin, that was Mètminwi, a thing as mean and cross as he is tall.”
“Go on…”
“He’s not really a loa, although surely he counts himself among them. But he may just be something worse. He’s the type of creature that parents invoke to frighten their children when they misbehave. According to legend, Mètminwi roams the night, hunting for people who stay out after dark. And from what I understand, he’s particularly fond of children.”
I rubbed my chin. “Hmph. What do you think he wants with your necklace?”
Janice wrung her hands as she replied, looking off into the trees. “I don’t know—maybe it has something to do with abducting people? He has an agreement with the more powerful loa to only take so many people each night he roams. And he’s limited to roaming just once a year. Gran used that necklace to hide from the Tuatha De Danann. You wanna know what kind of evil deeds Mètminwi could hide with it? A lot, that’s what.”
I exhaled heavily in anticipation of the question I was about to ask. “Janice, what’s he do with the people he takes?”
“He eats them, Colin. It’s where he gets his power, apparently.”
“And the loa put up with that?” I asked. “Seems like Maman Brigitte or one of the other Haitian gods would’ve put an end to him ages ago.”
Janice shook her head. “I don’t think you understand the loa at all,” she said with a frown.
I rubbed a hand down my face. “Oh-kay. I’ll just assume they’re a lot like the fae—dicks one and all. So, tell me what we’re up against. What can this Mètminwi do?”
She pressed her palms to her forehead, as if she were massaging away a headache. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s big, obviously, and somewhat resistant to magic as all the loa are known to be. He has all the powers of a bokor, which is how he raised those skeletons.”
“And the rev?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Janice nodded. “And the revenant, which he probably raised just for the purpose of stealing Gran’s necklace. Plus he has magic of his own, the kind that allows him to remain hidden, to move from this world to his and back—and to take others with him when he does.”
“So, he’s your typical evil supernatural entity. You think if we could pin him down, a good ass-kicking would do the trick?”
“He’s practically a god, Colin—kicking his ass is going to be a tall order, no pun intended.”
“Meh, we’ll see about that. Any idea where he went?”
“He took off into the trees and disappeared. And I’d bet bullshit to beignets that he’s using Gran’s necklace to hide himself from tracking spells.” Janice gave the barest shake of her head, her mouth set in a grim frown. “Damn it. I can’t help but think we’re never going to get it back.”
I exhaled heavily, thinking of the poor kid who’d gotten turned into an undead monster just so a minor deity could amass a bit more power. Fucking dickhead gods. Necklace or no, Mètminwi was due for a reckoning, and I was determined to see him get it.
“He may not be visible to human eyesight or magic, but a creature his size will leave a trail just the same,” I said, forcing a smile. “Cheer up, we’ll get your necklace back. Come on, let’s get going before he gains too much of a lead on us.”
8
Janice stood nearby as I searched the area, crossing and uncrossing her arms as she tried to hide her impatience. Much to my chagrin, Mètminwi had left absolutely no visible sign of his passing. I searched for several minutes using my enhanced sight, but it was as if he’d gone incorporeal. Had he passed into his own realm, beyond our reach?
Then I caught a whiff of something—a musky, piquant odor I hadn’t noticed earlier. It was a combination of spiced rum, tobacco, and rotting flesh. I dropped on all fours, getting my nose close to the ground and inhaling deeply so I could mark the scent to memory.
Got you, you son of a bitch.
“Find something?” Janice asked with a note of hope in her voice.
I nodded. “The loa like to drink and smoke, right?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back? They’re all practically alcoholics, and smoke like a house fire.”
“Then I have his scent. Let’s go.”
Sniffing along in a crouch like a bloodhound on the hunt, I followed Mètminwi’s trail through the small copse of trees, across a few backyards, and into another low-income neighborhood. More than once I lost the scent, forcing us to backtrack so I could pick it up again. A few blocks later, the trail ended at a condemned two-story house on a dead-end street.
The house sat by itself where the asphalt ended, looking out of place next to the small, one-story brick and stucco homes that lined the
narrow lane. And the house looked older, too—dilapidated in the way only a home that has been long abandoned can look. White paint peeled from the clapboard siding, the wood beneath had turned gray from exposure to the elements, window glass was nearly non-existent in the panes, and the shutters creaked and banged against the house in the wind. In short, the place was the absolute epitome of a haunted house.
“Why do I get the feeling this house is going to swallow us whole?” Janice asked as we cautiously strolled up the cracked, uneven front walk.
“Maybe because it looks like Nebbercracker’s place?” I offered.
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the house. “Look, I doubt this place is simply an empty condemned home. You said Mètminwi can travel back and forth from his world to this one, right?”
“Yep. You think this is the gateway?”
“Mm-hmm, I’d stake my rep on it. Give me a sec—there’s no telling where it’ll lead, and I don’t want to go in there unprepared.”
I opened up my Craneskin Bag, rummaging around for my tactical belt. Once I snapped it on, I clipped my holstered Glock 17 to my waistband, along with several spare magazines filled with silver-tipped ammo. Then I slung Dyrnwyn over my shoulder, loosening the sword in the scabbard to ensure I could draw it quickly. Finally, I stuffed my pockets with extra mags that were loaded with iron-tipped and standard ammo… just in case.
Janice observed me as I prepped for battle, a wry grin on her face. “Okay, I have to ask—what’s a druid doing with a gun?”
I chuckled. “Long story short? I’m kind of lazy when it comes to learning magic.”
“Ah, the ‘reluctant druid’ thing. I’d heard rumors it had something to do with your ex-girlfriend, but—”
“Can we just focus on getting that necklace back and save the conversation for later?” I snapped, cutting her off before the conversation veered into ex-girlfriend territory.
“Wow. Okay, sorry I mentioned it.”
The look of hurt and confusion in her eyes told me I’d been a bit too harsh, and I sighed. “Sorry, but my ex is a sore subject right now, and I really don’t care to get into all the reasons why.”
She stared at me for a moment with her eyes narrowed, then her shoulders relaxed. “Hey, I get it. Besides, it’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I pretended to be engrossed with checking all my equipment one last time. Janice stood off to the side, hugging herself and staring into the darkness. The silence was unbearable, and she looked like she might catch a chill, so I cleared my throat to get her attention.
“I think I have a windbreaker in my Bag. If you’re cold, I mean.”
Her brow furrowed as she considered the olive branch I was extending. Finally, her expression softened and she gave a grudging nod. “I’ll take it. But don’t think this means we’re going steady or anything.”
I stifled a laugh as I rummaged around in my Bag, handing her the jacket with a crooked grin. “No hard feelings?”
She waved my question away as she pushed the sleeves up on my windbreaker. “Naw. I spent my fair share of time around the Guédé when I was growing up. You gotta have thick skin to hang out with that bunch. Consider it water under the bridge, Colin.”
Internally, I sighed with relief. I’d liked Janice before our “date,” and I liked her even more after seeing her reactions under stress. Maybe not in a romantic way, but I was decidedly fond of her nonetheless. It wasn’t like I had a lot of friends in the World Beneath, not that I could rely on, anyway. I’d hate to think I screwed up a budding friendship just by being a dick.
“Alright, cool.” I drew my Glock and racked the slide. “Now, let’s go kick Mètminwi’s ass and get your Gran’s necklace back.”
“Works for me.” Janice mumbled a few words in Creole, and soon her hands and eyes shone with a pale, phosphorous glow. “And when we catch that fils de pute, I’m gonna put a gris-gris on him that’s gonna make him cry for his maw-maw.”
9
Despite Janice’s bravado, I could tell she was nervous by the way her eyes darted around the yard. Feeling calmer than I had a right to be, I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to further center myself as I mounted the front steps to the house. The stairs creaked in protest, and I sensed a small bit of magic being released as I mounted the porch—likely an alarm spell to let Mètminwi know he had guests.
Shit.
Knowing there was nothing for it but to forge ahead, I crossed the porch and kicked the front door down.
“Subtle much?” Janice asked as I cleared the room, sighting down the barrel of the Glock as I swept it back and forth to cover every dark corner of the foyer. The place was just what I’d expect from a haunted house, with faded and peeling wallpaper, dust-covered floors, moth-eaten Victorian-era furniture, and spiderwebs covering every sconce, chandelier, and doorway.
“He already knows we’re here,” I replied. “I triggered some sort of alert spell the moment my foot hit the porch steps.”
“Didja’ look first before you tripped the alarm?”
“Yes, but I didn’t see anything. I figure this is all a construct of Mètminwi’s magic, so he’s going to know we’re here no matter how careful we are. Best thing we can do is find the portal to his realm, get what we came for, and then beat feet before he knows what hit him.”
At that exact moment, a child’s laughter echoed from the second floor above us, and a door slammed somewhere nearby.
“As if,” Janice muttered.
Feigning confidence I didn’t feel, I shrugged. “One can hope. C’mon, I think I sense something ahead, a magical convergence of some sort. Maybe that’s where we’ll find Mètminwi and your necklace.”
I crept forward, gun at the ready. Janice placed a hand on my shoulder, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin. She snort-chuckled and gave my neck a playful squeeze.
“Relax, tiger. Just wanted to make sure we don’t lose each other in here.”
“I nearly shit my pants,” I whispered. “Give a guy a little warning next time, alright?”
Janice kept a hand on my shoulder as we moved through the dusty, decrepit rooms of the house. The glow from her hands gave off just enough luminescence to light the house up like day to my spell-enhanced vision. Unearthly laughter and the clinking of silverware and china echoed from somewhere deeper inside the house. I glanced back at my date, waiting until she gave me a nervous nod before continuing on.
We passed from the entry foyer into a dining room with a long, formal table that had been set with a ten-course meal. However, the food on the plates and serving ware was rotten, covered in mold and crawling with maggots. We held our breath against the smell and moved on toward a swinging door that I assumed led to the kitchen area. I heard cooking and muffled conversation on the other side of the kitchen door—loud enough to be detected, but not so that I could make out what was being said.
After counting to three on my fingers, I kicked the door open, but again we were greeted by nothing but shadows and dust. The kitchen was as empty and lifeless as the rest of the house.
“I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved,” Janice whispered.
“I’m going with relieved,” I muttered over my shoulder. “This place is giving me the creeps.”
“What, the mighty monster hunter has never dealt with haunts and spooks before?”
“Uh-uh, not if I could help it. Hauntings are the purview of exorcists and demonologists. I prefer my monsters to be nice and corporeal, thank you very much.”
“Hmph,” was Janice’s only reply.
I glanced back at her. “What?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Janice…”
She smirked. “I just think it’s cute that the great Junkyard Druid could get riled by a haunted house.”
“Ha ha, very funny.” I rubbed my nose with my free hand, keeping my pistol pointed down
range. The dust was getting to me almost as much as the weird noises.
“Yeah, but you gotta admit—this date sure hasn’t been boring.”
“No arguments here,” I whispered, creeping through the kitchen as I scanned the place using my mage-sight.
At first, I saw nothing of interest. But on my second sweep, I caught the faintest glimmer coming from a side door that was nearly hidden behind a large, old-fashioned cupboard. As I further scrutinized the doorway, lines of magic began to appear all around the door casing, the strange, curious symbols and scrollwork unique to Haitian and New Orleans voudon practice.
“I think we found our doorway,” I said, pointing. “Look.”
“I don’t see anything,” Janice said with a shake of her head. “My magic works differently than yours. Hang on a sec.”
She said a few words in Creole, waving her hands around. I caught something that sounded like “reveal,” and something like “keesa caché,” but that was about all I could make out. Janice’s hands began to glow brighter, and as they did, the faded paint began to crackle and peel from the door and frame to reveal a wrought-iron cemetery gate covered in voodoo wards and scrollwork.
The scenery beyond the gate was a surprise, although I don’t know exactly what I’d expected to see. Rather than another dreary, spooky room of the house, Janice’s spell had revealed a doorway to another realm, one that bore a stark resemblance to a New Orleans graveyard at night.
“When we walk through that gate, do you think we’ll end up somewhere on Earth, or someplace else?” I asked with trepidation in my voice.
