“What’s wrong?” Frank said.
“There’s something else,” Armand said. “There’s something else about the silver droplets, isn’t there?”
She breathed a long, slow breath.
“They streaked,” she said. “Most looked pure. The ones I could see anyway. But some are streaked.”
“Streaked with what?”
“Black.”
The group sat a long time. No one wanted to be the first to imply anything against Del.
The minutes ticked along.
Finally, Armand broke the silence. “Silver droplets. Beautiful silver droplets. That should make it easy to find her again, shouldn’t it? If we stay here, Frank and I, we’ll stay here and… continue with our plan. You get some rest, we’ll watch the house, then when you’re ready, you go back to trancin’ and find her. You can follow the droplets, right?”
Mama Dedé looked at Armand and Frank with something very near shame in her eyes.
“It’s not that easy, Frenchy.”
“Why? Why isn’t it that easy?”
“I can see ‘em, I just cain’t follow ‘em.”
“Why not?”
“Da droplets, they scattered in all directions.”
Chapter 48
Early that evening, the two men finished their dinner of crawfish etouffee and checked the courtyard for any last-minute preparations. Mama Dedé had just awoken from a late nap, and was preparing to start trancing again. She was going to look for Del, but also to try to contact Marie; she felt that having the unbinding spell was the only way they could truly get rid of the Gris-gris man, despite what damage Frank and Armand could inflict.
She checked on Del, then walked outside. “So, you boys ready, I see. You sure you want to try this?”
“Yes,” Armand said. “We feel we’re as prepared as we can be.”
“OK, then, there’s nothin’ else I can say. But first sign of anything, and I mean anything, you come ring this back bell, three times. If I’m still trancin’, I’ll hear it and come right back out. You hear?”
“We hear ya,” Frank said. “But we ain’t waitin’ around to kill him. As soon as we slow him down, we gonna kill him.”
“Just be careful. And don’t forget this bell.”
Frank nodded and turned back to the traps, cans and ropes.
Armand inspected his offerings, then looked inside a leather satchel he had slung around his neck. He hadn’t transcribed the verses, but knew where the first two were marked in the books. He’d read from them if necessary.
Frank had gone around and lit several torches to illuminate the courtyard—careful of their spacing near the gas cans. The electric had been out all day, and deep layers of clouds now blocked all moonlight. Somewhere a nearly full moon was shining, but not there.
Frank settled himself on one side of the covered back porch, nearest to the gate. If the Gris-gris man was to make an appearance, he’d be able to quickly block his exit by tipping over the torch near him, which would ignite the gas he had poured along the cobblestones near the entrance.
Armand sat behind the makeshift offering-table they had constructed, facing the open gate. He could see Frank to his right, sitting on the porch, and the old stables-turned-garage to his left. He hoped he was obscured behind the glare of the torch that lit the eerie courtyard.
Both men waited.
At the beginning of the evening, Armand had called Dr. John’s name and requested an audience. Although most of the text he had read required him to simply leave the offerings and let the enigmatic figure appear in his own good time, Armand thought they couldn’t leave anything to chance, and specifically invoked him by name.
As the hours ticked by, the two men watched each other through the deepening gloom; two fireflies signaling each other with glowing embers; cigar, cigar, pipe; smoke signal, pipe, cigar.
Armand checked his pocket watch and noted that it was now ten minutes past the bewitching hour; midnight had come and gone without so much as a stray cat visit. There was nothing left to do, Armand decided. He lit another small torch next to him, now casting enough light to read by—which was also the signal to Frank—opened his leather satchel, and removed the Grimoire White.
Armand read aloud the first part:
* * *
“Hellish spirit hear me clearly, grant you now full use or nearly,
Of my soul for use and toiling, at the work of evil lore.
This damned soul is ripe for taking; in its core with trembled shaking,
Hunger-lust pang never slaking, begging at your ghostly door.
Use me spirit, just tonight, that I may unlock Abgel’s door;
Just tonight, no less, no more.”
The words were upon the wind.
In the St. Louis Cemetery #1, Eddie heard the hellish words and vibrated on high. Someone was invoking the spell. “Sing,” came a raven-voice in his head, and Eddie’s stone mouth sang the second part of the spell.
* * *
“I call to you, by way of chanting—lest a demon voice be ranting,
Ranting in my wretched mind to call you up from days of yore.
I summon you to evil deed, your voice as one my mind will heed,
Seeking someone sure to bleed, to right a wrong done to my core.
Use me spirit, just tonight, that I may open abGel’s door,
Just tonight, no less, no more.”
* * *
Armand had just opened the Grimoire Strange as the soundless chant of the stone grotesque fell still. Not realizing the spell was falling in order, he started the third passage.
“With demon-will I wholly bind, your tattered soul, black heart and mind
To me you see, for I am kind, except to those I doth abhor.”
The words were upon the wind, and dark clouds, swelling with evil intent, hung low in the sky, waiting to give birth to a fury that would rain hell upon the land; just a few more words needed to be spoken.
Suddenly, a dark figure strolled slowly out of the mist beyond the gate of the courtyard. Armand saw movement at the edge of his vision and quickly closed the grimoire. The spell was broken.
The clouds—quivering in anticipation—cried an angry protest of thunder at the interruption and roiled with dark fever.
The figure outside the gate moved slowly, a limp or walking cane stuttering their gate. Armand watched between flickering flames, catching glimpses here and there of the dark figure. A second figure appeared next to the first. There was no mistaking its powerful stride. The beast breathed a ragged breath as it stepped forward and the mist flew away in fear.
Standing just outside the gate, the two figures seemed to inspect the courtyard carefully. The hunched figure turned its head slightly from side to side as the beast breathed deeply, flexing its nostrils, detecting something.
The blonde doll that hung below the neck of the beast stared with one pleading eye stuck open; watching the remnants of a life it used to know. The mutant Toth sat inanimate on a long needle, waiting for a static spark of life.
Without moving his head, Armand sent his eyes searching for a sign that Frank was ready to spring their trap. There was no ember glow.
The two figures stood just outside the open gate, sniffing, shuffling.
The beast, split tail twitching in anticipation, shook its head savagely, howled a wolfish bark, and bit the limping figure in the side of the leg. The bite thrust the figure forward into the courtyard, where it began a feeble run toward the center.
Everything happened at once.
Chapter 49
The silver droplets of Del had been scattered to the wind. Thrown in all directions, they floated aimlessly in the space that used to be Del, like stars of the universe.
Mama Dedé floated in her trance, looking upon the sparkling remnants of Del’s essence, despair turning her own yellow essence dark and muddy.
The woman could see the faintest sheen of red around the silver droplets. She knew this meant that a scen
e was old and moving away from her, but she had never seen the red sheen applied to someone’s essence before—or what was left of it. Looking around at the sparkling remnants, she was surprised to see a few droplets with the slightest blue sheen to them. But how could that be? How could there be a new part of Del?
Maybe the whole of Del was still intact, she thought. Maybe the blue-sheen silver droplets were simply pieces of Del moving in a different direction. If so, they must be flowing towards her.
As the woman looked around in her mind, she floated away from the scene she was in. The further she floated away, the more droplets she could see. And now that she was able to detect the slightest red-sheen and blue-sheen, she saw a breathtaking sight. Like gazing at the Milky Way galaxy on a clear cold night, she realized she was looking at the universe of Del. Beautiful silver droplets, like stars in the sky, had been flung away from each other with a great force. Up close, they looked to be flying away at such speed that they would never come back together, but she now observed that they were flying away at a decreasing speed. The droplets were slowing down ever so slightly and drifting toward each other. Her essence, somehow—like gravity to a dust particle—was trying to pull back together.
The woman, now clearly understanding how to follow the path of Del, floated in a new direction and moved back into the stream of Del’s essence. She would follow it to her core.
After what seemed to be hours of following her trail, Mama Dedé saw something she had never seen before; a huge spinning orb made of the same, beautiful Del-silver, but with melting streaks of the purest black flying around the surface. Deadly fingers of electricity coursed off the orb and raced around the surface. Here, the droplets were no longer flying away, but were held in stasis; frozen in time. Slowly, one by one, they fell back into the Del-orb with a violent explosion. If the droplets were the outer essence of Del, the violently spinning orb was her core. It was a terrible and beautiful sight all at once.
If Del somehow returned from this, the woman thought, she would never be the same.
But could she return in time?
Del was exhausted. She had struggled against the bellowing voice-wind for hours, for days, for her entire life. Her essence had almost blurred out of existence.
The dark voice spoke in her head. “I know what your heart desires most Delphine, for we are the same, you and I!”
Del was liquid. She felt the core of her being sink to her center and start to solidify; some base element of her essence was reforming.
“We are special Del,” the voice said. “Special beyond comprehension. Formed from knowledge long forgotten. Superior in all ways. Singular in purpose.”
Del could still hear the voice, but felt it no longer propel her out of control. She was somehow regaining some control over herself. Instead of fighting the spin, wasting energy trying to stop it, she would control it.
“Our abilities,” the voice continued, “to trance, to tread the past, to read the future, is fundamental to our nature. We are elemental.”
She used its energy to spin even faster; a white-hot orb of universal essence; collecting mass; increasing her gravitational pull; she was reforming.
As the Del-orb spun beyond comprehension, a new thing started to form. No one knew it yet, but the new thing would be awesome and terrible.
“We draw people to us that we can use,” the voice continued, “misfits, degenerates, the sinful; people that crawl on their bellies and grovel. We help them and they do what we command. The world is made of the powerful and the meek. You and I are powerful, for we are of the same flesh and we have become like Gods.
“I’m coming to see you soon, Delphine. You and your family of misfits; especially the blank one. Yes, I know of the blank one. It’s unclear why I can’t see him, but I know he is near. With you and the blank one, we will all be whole again. We will be a family soon, and each one will be whole.”
Armand watched as the hunched figure stumbled forward into the courtyard, where its overcoat opened and two weasel-like creatures dropped to the ground. New to their first hunt, the weasels mewled and gnashed their beaks at air and shadow. They could smell food, but were mindless creatures and snapped at each other for several seconds. Finally realizing they were free to kill and eat at will, their six legs found their footing and they scampered toward the deep shadows, with their claws sending a menacing tica-tica-tica-tica sound echoing into the dark.
Armand, now trying to track the scampering abominations in the dark, stepped sideways causing the chair to scrape against the courtyard stone. The weasels heard him instantly.
A flash of light illuminated the unfolding scene. On the other side of the courtyard, a torch had been tipped over, igniting a small can of gas. The quick explosion blew the can apart and sent flames shooting in all directions. The stumbling figure spun around in confusion, trying to escape the flames, and tangled themselves in the carefully hidden ropes that tied the cans of gas together. Several cans spilled their contents onto the stony courtyard and caught fire. The beast howled its shock and anger at the trap, sending a jolt of life to the mutant Toth, who gibbered a mad protest. With spider speed, one of the weasels, catching Armand’s scent, scampered toward him in the dark—six dagger-legs tapping a death march along the way—and stepped onto a hidden wolf trap. The steel spring snapped shut in an instant, cutting its head clean from its unnatural body, where it rolled to Armand’s feet in the dark. The beast howled a mortal wound as it felt the essence of its offspring snap out of existence.
The stumbling figure reached the center of the courtyard as if to claim its prize, only to throw the hood from its head and scream, “He has returned, Del! He has come for you!” At that moment, the flames reached the limping nun and she caught fire.
Frank, suddenly seeing the nun inside the circle of flames, shifted in his chair, betraying his position to the beast, who caught his movement from the corner of its watchful eye.
The beast reared its head and howled an unholy wail as it stood on its hind legs like a stamping horse, slamming its heavy paws into the ground. The energy from the beast sent an overload of life into the dead mutant, causing it to shoot up from the beast’s back and spin around the needle like a child’s toy. The ridiculously spinning mutant screamed its unholy gibberish, “..Aaaiiieeeeee!! …glb ...glb …chkryyyy!” and landed facing backwards on the back of the beast. The unnatural energy that passed between the two would sustain its life for several minutes, and it stood up, sliding up the heavy needle, and gibbered at the night.
Armand started toward the burning nun, but the entire courtyard was now in flames. The trap had worked too well; there was no way to get to her.
The nun screamed her apocalyptic warning once more before realizing she was on fire. Suddenly, as if directed by a silent voice, she turned and ran towards the house.
Armand saw her intention and had time to yell but one word of warning:
“Del!”
Frank saw the nun stumble forward as his attention was drawn back to the gate. A giant wolf—or something very near one—had just howled its angry warning and turned its powerful head in his direction. As he pulled his pistol, a ludicrous thought passed through his mind: somehow a child’s toy got stuck on the back of that wolf, then he raised his hand and fired.
In one strong leap the beast covered half the distance from the gate to Frank. Its second leap took it into the path of the bullet and a small piece of its left shoulder was sheared away, along with the right foot of the mutant. The force knocked the beast sideways out of the air and onto a burning patch of courtyard.
The nun hit the back porch as Frank’s chair caught on a warped board, tipping him backwards out of his chair. She crashed through the backdoor and stumbled into the kitchen; flaming pieces of clothing fell from her as she careened down the hall yelling for Del.
Armand, five steps behind the nun, ran to Frank as the beast—now alight—ran wildly about the courtyard, gnashing at its burning fur.
; Grabbing Frank’s gun, Armand managed one wild shot as the beast leapt out of the courtyard and into the night. The mutant, still riding backwards, glared and gibbered at Armand as it swung wildly from side to side; it would remember his face.
The next thing the men saw was the nun—having crashed through a top window and bounced off the back-porch roof—land with a sickening thud onto the stone courtyard.
They both realized the horror of the situation at the same time. The house was in flames.
Chapter 50
Jimmy wandered the dark streets looking for Jo and Del. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been out there. He had fallen asleep underneath some bushes, then heard a strange noise that woke him up, so he’d left. Someone had been nice enough to leave part of their apple on the sidewalk for him, so he ate that, but he was still hungry. He thought he heard voices ahead of him in the fog, but could never catch up to them. He would go back to the orphanage if he could remember the way, but he couldn’t even tell if it was day or night now, so he kept walking.
Ever since he’d left the orphanage to follow Jo, his head had been singing a new song for him. He wasn’t sure how his head knew the song without him knowing it, but some things worked in mysterious ways, Del had told him once, and Del was always right.
Suddenly he wondered if Del was singing to him. Maybe she was trying to tell him where she was! If he could just remember the song, he’d be able to find her. He decided to sit down and think really hard about the song, and soon he’d find Del.
Jo came upon a surreal sight as she turned the corner to the halfway house. The entire house was in flames!
After waking up in the cemetery that morning, she’d wandered the streets for a long time, wondering what to do. She knew the horrible memories from the night before had really happened; it hadn’t just been a crazy nightmare. But where would she go? Now that she had traded the Crow to the man in the cemetery, she wondered when he would fulfill his part of the bargain. When would she get Del? Deciding this was her chance to be free of the orphanage for good, she wandered the streets until the idea to find the halfway house came to her.
A Grimoire Dark Page 23
