Persephone Underground

by Jennifer Russon

  Mom fell all over herself, apologizing for destroying all the pictures of Dad’s career when he walked out of our lives. She apologized, too, for going out of her way to never ever talk about him.

  “He was a super powerful one, I’m afraid. He used to tell me crazy stories of how he’d made a deal with the devil, and was never going to die. How the sacrifice to ensure his immortality was beyond all comprehension. It gave me the creeps, and I’d have never slept with him if he’d been open about that from the very beginning.

  I met your dad on a cruise with my Spanish honor society in high school. I was going to study in Cancun, you know. Your dad worked for the cruise line and would go home every time they docked in Mexico. He’s a Mayan – his magic show was utterly amazing. It got me into bed anyway.”

  The whole while she talked, I shined Mami Wata’s magic compact mirror on her – the cat was finally out of the bag – or, rather, the rabbit out of the hat. I was a sorcerer’s daughter – and the whole time, I thought he was just a cheesy, fake lounge lizard act.

  No wonder Ronnie and I had the ability to live between two worlds. We got it from our Dad.

  When Mom talked about him with a strange look in her eye, I always assumed it was embarrassment that my dad had been a one night stand in her economy suite in the bowels of the ship. But it was fear in Mom’s eyes – over how destructive and powerful he must have been. I recognized that fear because it was the same look I wore myself, when I looked at the immortals living in Hayden’s Underworld.

  Chapter

  30

  Guess what? I can hypnotize people too. I can cast spells of both enchantment and horror. I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. There was no record of Dad online; it was like he never existed. I kept checking my pulse to make sure I was real – not a ghost like my sister. Every time I thought of Ronnie, my memories betrayed the fact she was invisible to normal humans, except me and the Springers. She showed herself to us.

  I could see her because I had the gift. The Springers could see her because they were under Mami Wata’s spell. Anyone the old voodoo queen wished to manipulate could see Ronnie plain as day.

  Luckily, there was a paper trail on Ronnie. I learned that she had been around 21 when she died: a passenger in my father’s car. They were sideswiped. Both the driver and my dad were checked for sobriety, with a few different articles about Ronnie’s death casting suspicion about our magician of a father. He had been living here at the time of the accident. Mom had been incorrect to call it a DUI. The other driver’s name was cleared of all chargers. He is quoted in one of the articles, though his name was redacted.

  This was a terrible accident and I’m so sorry it happened.

  I have my suspicions who the other driver was, and I bet you do too. I was not ready to say the name of this person with my own two lips. His first and last name sat like ashes in my mouth.

  No, I fixated more on my father’s role in that car wreck.

  For a supposedly quick witted, eagle eyed man – for aren’t all magicians that? – he sat at an intersection on the middle of a rainy night for an unnecessary amount of time. He meant to turn right on a red, and did not –even when the coast was all but clear. It was like he was waiting to be hit. I visited findagrave.com and looked for my sister’s resting place, and when I’d found it, I put Mom in a trance and bent the ankle monitor attached to me with my mind. I made it smoke and burn, and my mom was so blissed out on the voodoo I’d mastered, she did no more than cheerfully tell me goodbye on my way out the door.

  It was almost dusk when I arrived at the cemetery and located Ronnie’s grave. Since my mom and dad were both Catholic, and this was greater Ft. Lauderdale there was no other place to be buried other than Our Lady in Heaven – so that meant my sister shared a burial ground with Allsyon Cox and the Furr Family.

  I knew the second I touched the granite – her stone – I would finally understand everything that lead to her untimely demise. It was cold to my touch; in fact, it made my warm, mortal fingers feel the threat of frostbite. I drew my hand away in sharp surprise. The truth flooded me. I saw with absolute clarity the driver behind the wheel of the other car – the one that ploughed into Ronnie’s side and crushed her skull.

  It was Lucas Furr. Ridiculously, I closed my eyes as though this would help absorb the awful truth, and I saw my sister Ronnie in hell, sitting in a throne beside her cruel, Indian lover.

  Why had she spun things as your garden variety abduction? She was the trophy wife of Hayden – kidnapped at her father’s own discretion – brought down to the Underworld until she had her fill of the place and escaped.

  I wondered if the accident I had been in with Mom had actually been an attempt on my life that went awry, killing the wrong girl – the girl my mother went to jail over: beautiful Allyson.

  I would stop by Allyson’s grave next, I decided. The wind picked up, and blew swirling leaves from a live oak in my direction. They were almost like a cyclone in force and number – dirt and tree fragments got in my eyes. It all died down to quiet again as I reached in my purse for eye drops and Kleenex.

  She was right there when I looked up. Young Ronnie – the version of herself she had been when she died, not the middle aged woman she pretended to be in front of The Springers. That dinner when we met each other seemed like a million years ago. She touched my arm, leaving traces of cold. When she spoke to me, cold puffs of air left her mouth, danced between us like little clouds.

  “They are trying to get you, you know...”

  “Who?”

  “Lucas and Mami Wata. They are conspiring together to kill you here on the surface, and have you pick up where I left off – as Hayden’s bride.”

  “How did they pick you, Ronnie? Why did they choose you to go down into the Underworld?”

  “I was vetted just like you. Remember – Robin Furr was my principal too. She vetted me, and had me come to The Pomegranate, where I worked my fingers to the bone. Just like you. Only, it was different for me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked this with such trepidation. I was holding onto my dead sister’s arm for dear life – terrified her grave might decide to swallow her back up and we’d never again get the chance to finish our conversation.

  “I never worked in Mami Wata’s house. I never really saw the weak version of Hayden like you did. The two of you actually grew close, fell in love. Mami Wata felt she had something at stake in your loving her grandson so fiercely. She couldn’t let Lucas hurt you – turn you into one of his zombie Persephonies down there that Prince Hayden would only grow bored with.”

  “Is that what happened to you?” I asked my pretty sister. “He got tired of you and tried to cast you into one of the 7 seas – to be forgotten?”

  “I wish,” Ronnie replied. “I would have loved to be free in the ocean – a mermaid forever, but he wanted me as his slave. He was in the midst of recruiting a new girl when I was cast aside – left to massage his feet and hand feed him – sit woodenly at his side when we came to the surface to dine at The Pomegranate.

  I met many of my…replacements,” Ronnie recalled sadly.

  “Their chemistry with him faded over time. There was another girl and then another girl and then you. I think you helped Hayden realize the mistake he made in losing me. We are so much alike, you and I.”

  Ronnie told me I had better leave this cemetery if I knew what was best for me – explore my new found powers in the privacy of my home.

  “I can’t go home! You wouldn’t believe this fool’s errand that I’m on, but I have two things to do before I take my leave of the Boulevard of Champions.”

  Ronnie looked terrified for me. The cemetery with its Furr crypt and portal to hell was here, Mami Wata was here, and the Springers were here. My sister made me understand at last, it was no coincidence Marc and Demi chose to move here from California.

  Mami Wata had willed it in their dreams – knowing that connecting us all in her dark, voodoo web would
eventually yield a new and suitable bride for the Prince of the Underworld. It would yield me.

  “I’m going to retrieve Demi’s dog for her – take Domino back from Mami Wata…and I’m…” I chewed my lip, not sure I should say it.

  “I’m going to visit Demi and tell her I didn’t shoot Marc. I don’t think she believes I’m the murderer. I have to get the story straight.”

  I laughed when I realized I’d been explaining myself to thin air. My sister had vanished.

  Chapter

  31

  I walked from the cemetery to Mami Wata’s place – a woman on a mission; half hoping she’d be there, half hoping to miss her entirely. She didn’t lock the doors. It seemed impossible, in this neighborhood anyone could be so brazen – but this old voodoo queen didn’t care. Perhaps she wanted a criminal to break in, rob her and beat her to death,

  It had slowly dawned on me, maybe she wanted to finally, forever, physically die – the way her grandson had. There was no bringing back the Hayden I had known. In the months I straddled the surface and what lay below, I understood that everyone down there had a self they showed to mortals.

  In hell, Lucas was a dog. On the surface, a political nightclub owner quietly funding the NRA and other Republican groups.

  In hell, Miz Furr was a mermaid like her mother and on the surface, principal of a large public high school on the wrong side of the tracks.

  Neither Mr. or Mrs. Furr had suffered injuries great enough to kill the mortal versions of themselves, but their son had.

  In hell, Hayden stood 6'5". He was a wall of muscle; his face gorgeous but stern. He helped his devil of a dad to cull through the dead and send them to their immortal destinies, whatever those may be. The Furrs could pop up, via any of the world’s 7 seas and choose the date they wished to inhabit – from Medieval times to a future long in the making.

  How had Mami Wata explained time to me before? It wasn’t something you could measure in sixty second increments. It was just a series of moments that gathered together like a veil of tears or butterflies. You could part time and step into the best or the worst of it. It was your choice.

  As soon as I entered her seemingly empty house, I knew where to find Domino. I strode bravely back to her bedroom and found him curled up in in the corner. Because he wasn’t being walked regularly or cared for the way Marc and Demi had cared for him, Domino had grown weaker, older. He barely looked up when I disturbed his nap.

  Passing by Mami Wata’s mirror, I could see how it misted over. It was as though it were filled with smoke. She must have entered it just recently. Maybe she chose to visit a time with John Runningwolf, Hayden’s grandfather, in it. Such a time would include the love of her life, Teresa Rose – a chance to play with that woman’s twin daughters again. As I understood it, the old voodoo queen was their nanny if you manipulated time frames and alternate realities just right. She loved them too.

  She was probably swimming with the little girls in their pool in Blue Jordan Forest right now. It would take her a while to return to her master bedroom, here on the good old Boulevard of Champions.

  I scooped up the dog, and did in fact let the screen door hit me on the ass on the way out. But I did not visit the Springer’s residence with little Domino because I knew from consulting my pocket mirror that his mistress was not at home.

  She was at The Temple of Lost Time, visiting the shrine that had been erected to honor her husband and the 23 others who had been shot to death. Our city had commissioned this public art project to show how fractured we all were after such violence and bloodshed took place in one of our schools.

  It was a Balinese style temple and built to be burned, sitting on an acre of land where North Lauderdale’s old city hall had stood, before they tore it down to build a bigger and better one across the street. It was a cool day, so I could have cracked the windows and left the dog in my car, yet I chose to tuck all 10 pounds of him under my arm and approach the art exhibit as though he were my therapy dog.

  Domino was not the only service animal here. Legit therapy dogs, wearing the special blue halters marking them as such, were milling around the temple. People petted them – all talked about how hard this was. A shooting in our very own community. I steeled myself to get closer.

  Every step I took toward the temple, my heart beat fiercely in my chest because I knew that in the gaggle of visitors, I would find Demi, Marc’s widow.

  I wasn’t sure I was prepared to see such a funny, bright personality like hers, overtaken with grief. What would she be like after her best friend’s murder? Well…I had man’s best friend to console her. I was returning her pumpkin Oreo after all these months when she thought he was dead.

  Did I mention I was strolling through all this in deep disguise? I knew where Mami Wata kept her wigs, and helped myself to an auburn one. I was born with dark eyes, but the longer I stared into my magic compact mirror, the easier it was to will them to change. I turned them ocean blue. My complexion altered itself to match, with rosy cheeks and freckles.

  It wasn’t Persephone Gonzales entering the temple anymore. That girl was born of an Irish mother and Mexican father. That girl had allegedly killed a lot of people; this girl was innocent.

  The temple was small – not much bigger than Mami Wata’s bedroom. The first thing in it to catch my eye was the shrine at its center – piled high with photos of the dead, old football jerseys, teddy bears and bouquets of flowers. Sharpie markers were left on the hand carved benches, so that you could pick them up and write a message to any dearly departed person your heart saw fit.

  The artist who built this temple had said – I know because I read all about it in the papers – that visitors were welcome to write whatever they wanted on the walls. I picked up a black marker with pungent ink, making me a bit woozy the second I uncapped it. I walked over to one of the blank spaces and began to write immediately, as I had thought long and hard over what to say on the way here.

  The Sharpie squeaked as I wrote in big, bold letters:

  I’M SORRY I COULDN’T HELP.

  That’s when I heard a familiar voice behind me. It was a little overgrown with the weeds of grief, but it was Demi’s all the same. I turned to look at her. She was rotund – at the end of her pregnancy.

  “I love your message,” she told me. “So honest. Not like all the platitudes and sappy crap most people write when they come here.”

  She gasped when she saw little Domino in my arms. He was so small, he’d escaped her attention at first. I’d rescued his old collar from Mami Wata’s jewelry box before I left her house. I was pleasantly surprised the old witch hadn’t destroyed it.

  “Is Oreo yours?” I asked, flipping his collar around so we could both read the dog tag hanging from it. “I mean…” I stammered a bit, so excited to be close to Demi again.

  “I know you’re Demi Springer. I know all the families who lost someone that day.”

  “Oh?” she asked, an edge creeping into her voice. “I’m sorry to seem cranky. It’s just that I hate it when people say ‘lost’. Marc wasn’t lost for God sake. He was murdered.”

  “I understand,” I apologized. “It’s just…it’s hard to know what to say…”

  I paused, decided to test the waters a bit more. “Do you think that girl did it – the one with that crazy name nobody can pronounce?”

  Demi drew her breath in sharply. The sound came out like a jagged little laugh. “Persephone you mean? No way. She was a student of mine, and wouldn’t hurt a fly. I know who did it, and I fully intend to come after him.”

  I almost blew my cover and thanked her, I was so relieved. I was also nervous. How was a petite, hugely pregnant woman going to come after Lucas Furr?

  “Persephone was like a daughter to me,” Demi continued, cradling her belly for emphasis. “I’m having a boy, so Persephone is the only daughter I’ll ever have.”

  It made me emotional to hear that. We were both brushing tears off our cheeks.

  “W
ell, take this baby boy off my hands,” I said, surrendering Domino.

  She took the Papillon in her arms and kissed the top of his head. Domino didn’t remember her, thanks to Mami Wata wiping out his little canine brain. It made me angry. I worked hard not to show it. I explained to Demi that I had to go. I just had a hunch she’d be here and wanted to return her pet.

  “Where did you find him?” Demi called after me.

  “He was wandering around the temple.” I told her. “He must have known you were here.”

  After I left the Temple of Lost Time, I went shopping for a new dress I intended to change into that same evening. The Pomegranate had a big show at 9 – with entertainers slated to perform. Demi was one of them. I would change my look again, so there was no risk of her staring out into the audience and recognizing me.

  I went from red to a short haired wig the color of burnt wheat. At the mall, I tried on several cocktail dresses, but couldn’t find any I liked. I decided that I’d bring things full circle by wearing the same one I’d picked for my interview at the nightclub at the start of summer. I had to go home to get it.

  Mom was laying out supper when I got there, still caught up in the voodoo haze I’d pulled over on her. She wore it like a comfortable old sweater. I could see why Mami Wata loved doing this to people. You weren’t so much taking advantage of people as you were calming them the hell down.

  I was nervous about going to The Pomegranate and I guess it dirtied up my language. I cussed a lot telling her about my day. Mom joked she’d have to wash my mouth out with soap. We held hands over the steaming food she’d prepared and mumbled a prayer over it.

  I broached the subject of dad while we ate.

  “You know,” Mom said thoughtfully, chewing the steak she’d pan seared, “he thought he could live forever.”

  “Really? Did he have some kind of deal with the devil?” I laughed, but all I felt was fear, imagining Lucas’s face.