by L. A. Kelley
“Why?” I asked.
“Mon Dieu, do you think anyone can peer inside the gates of a Lower World and survive? An ordinary human cannot bare the sight. The evil within reaches to the soul and drives you mad, but a blind girl would not be affected.”
Odile gathered the bones and returned them to the bag. “The door is invisible to the demon. The conjuror needs Esther to enter and lead Feu De L’enfer out again. I have seen how quickly the child becomes acclimated to her surroundings. Despite the maelstrom swarming around her, retracing her steps would be a simple enough task.”
Esther huddled in her seat, small and vulnerable. “I don’t want to go to hell.”
Amelie clasped her hand. “Nor shall you. We will keep you here in the swamp where the conjurer can’t touch you.”
“Yes, child.” Odile leaned over and hugged Esther warmly. “You are safe here.” Odile’s lie hit me like a bolt of lightning. Before I called her out, she shot me a warning glance, and then turned to her grandson. “T. Chris, take Esther to the house. I’m sure she would enjoy playing with you and the others. Perhaps, you could teach her to fish.”
T. Chris gawked at Esther as if she’d grown a second head. “You never been fishing? Even my baby sister knows how to fish.”
“Nobody ever let me do stuff,” said Esther, “except Peter and Mrs. Hart.”
“Well, come on then. Let’s go.”
Esther beamed, so filled with excitement she left her cane. Not that she needed it here. Esther already had the layout memorized. I watched her happily traipsing after T. Chris, all thoughts of evil conjurors wiped away by the thrill of playing like a normal kid.
As soon as the sound of their footsteps disappeared, Odile turned to me. “I know, Peter. I lied to Esther, but we have no need at the moment to concern her with the danger. For now, we will let her simply be a child.” Mrs. Hart yipped. I didn’t need Esther’s translation to know she agreed.
“What danger?” asked Renny.
“The conjuror retains his abilities as long as the connection with Feu De L’enfer is intact. The demon’s power also makes him immortal, so Pike cannot be attacked directly while the creature lives. He obviously has no scruples about killing, so innocents will continue to suffer.” She swept her arm around. “This bayou…this world is in danger.”
“There must be something we can do,” Amelie insisted.
“There is.” Odile caught us all in a piercing stare. “We open a door into the Lower Worlds and kill the demon first.”
What? I figured I must have heard wrong until Renny’s astonished cry, “Is such a thing possible?”
“Ways exist. None of them simple. All of them dangerous.”
Renny and Amelie both were unsmiling. Good, I thought. They’ll say something to Odile. I didn’t want to be rude to a grandmother, but someone needed to tell her this is a very, very, very bad plan.
“We’ll help, of course,” said Amelie. “What do you need us to do?”
Did I mention people in the South are crazy? Well, folks in the bayou make the rest of them seem level-headed. I shot to my feet. “Are you all nuts? We can’t go into the Lower Worlds. Odile said so.” I glared at her. “You said no human could survive.”
The shaman raised her eyebrows. “This is why the journey is so dangerous.” She grabbed my arm with the strength of an eagle carrying off a trout and yanked me hard into the seat. For a grandmother, she had quite a grip. “Shouting is rude,” she stated brusquely.
I gritted my teeth. “Sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking. Can’t imagine why opening the gates of hell isn’t a nifty idea.”
Odile beamed at me. Obviously, she didn’t respond to sarcasm. “Bon. Because the spirits told me you are the one who must kill the demon.”
I had no words. Oh, I tried to speak, but nothing came except a sputter or two. Mostly, I gawked at her, maybe twitched a little.
“You have the gift,” she continued pleasantly.
“What gift?” I sputtered helplessly. “I’m just a good liar.”
“Do you realize how special that is?” Odile clucked. “No? I will tell you. You lift the mask covering the truth.” She leaned forward on her elbows. Her keen eyes pinned me to my seat. “More importantly, you can manipulate what-is to what-should-be. If the conjurer suspected the potential you harbor, he would have killed you before murdering the Grimaldi’s.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ah, can you not see?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Esther with her blindness possesses more sight. You can build a lie so strong, the lie becomes the truth. You will pass through the tortures of the Lower Worlds unscathed and find a way to kill the demon. You have the power within you, Peter. The bones are never wrong.”
She eyeballed me as if the crazy idea was a done deal. I pushed away from the table. “The hell with your bones.”
“Odile.” Amelie’s complexion had paled. “What you’re saying…surely we can find another way.”
“We can hunt the conjuror,” insisted Renny, “and destroy him before the demon is released.”
Odile gave her head a vehement shake. “I have already explained that Pike is bound to Feu De L’enfer. We have no way to kill him. A bullet will pass through his body without leaving a mark. Poison? He could sip a glassful like lemonade. An axe to the neck would dull the axe. Pike is not human now. Our one chance is to confront the demon. Only when the creature is dead, can the conjuror be vanquished. Even if we killed Pike, Feu De L’enfer would eventually find another human disciple. The demon built a channel to our world and successfully spread its evil once. It will do so again.” She pounded her fist on the table. “Feu De L’enfer must be destroyed. The one vulnerable place is within the creature’s own domain.”
“Well, I’m not going!” I jumped to my feet so quickly, the chair knocked over. “I’m not waltzing into hell.” Amelie grabbed my arm, but I shook her off. “You’re all crazy.”
I stormed through the front door. “March right into the Lower Worlds. Why not? Sounds like fun. How about next Wednesday? My calendar is free.”
I stomped along the path leading to the bayou before skidding to a halt with the realization I had no place to go. For one wild moment, I considered stealing Chris’ pirogue. The thought passed quickly. Besides not having a clue how to escape the swamp, the idea of taking anything from the Benoit family didn’t sit well. I never had a twinge of guilt pilfering the Grimaldi’s store, but here was different. Chris, Marie, and their family led a hardscrabble life with little room for luxuries, yet they opened their home without hesitation to us. For all they knew an evil conjuror would beat down their door any second and the danger didn’t mean squat to them. Also, Odile would probably lasso a gator, slap on a saddle, and then she and Mrs. Hart would track me down and administer a royal whooping for thinking such a thing. I kicked at the ground in disgust. Some great adventurer I turned out to be, afraid of a grandmother and an itty bitty dog.
I rammed my hands into my pockets. Running was always my first impulse. Whatever happened to my big plan to roam free, become the world’s greatest liar, and never be dependent on a single soul? Now, I was wrapped in all these people’s lives. Lost and confused, I didn’t know who Peter Whistler was anymore.
Squeals of childish laughter cut through my gloom. Esther sat at the edge of the pier, fishing pole in hand, surrounded by Marie, T. Chris, and the rest of the children. They all cheered her on. Distracted by the commotion, Chris vaulted from the Sweet Marie where he had been working on the engine.
Esther clenched the pole in a death grip. The line whipsawed through the water. With whoops of encouragement from the youngsters and assistance from T. Chris, she reeled in a shiny, slippery fish. T. Chris unhooked the line and tossed the catch into a bucket where it flopped around helplessly.
“You got one! You got one!” Liliane, the youngest Benoit, danced around Esther, nearly falling in the bayou. “Catch another one!” Liliane yelled, plunking next to her fat
her.
Marie hugged Esther. Chris stated she now had to catch them all a good lunch. The delight on Esther’s face was obvious. This is the kind of life she should have had, instead of being stuck with the Grimaldi’s who treated her as a nuisance. Here she was merely a little girl who needed help baiting a hook.
Before the group at the pier spotted me, I settled against an old cypress tree to think. Eventually, the squealing laughter moved toward the house. Except for the croaking harmonies of the swamp, the surroundings were quiet again. The shadows cast by the branches lengthened and stretched across the grass. I didn’t realize Mrs. Hart found me until a paw nudged my leg.
“I’m not brave, you know.” She listened patiently. “I was going to run away just now, except I don’t have a boat and don’t know where I am. I-I still will. You watch. I’ll head out on my own. I’m no hero.” Her sharp teeth closed around my wrist. She didn’t bite, merely gave a good shake. Her warm dark eyes filled with understanding. “You can all fend for yourselves,” I said.
She crawled into my lap and placed her head on my chest. I was right. Lying to Mrs. Hart was a waste of time. A lump grew in my throat. I held her tight. Neither one of us was ever much for words.
The foliage rustled behind me, and then Amelie and Renny stepped out. Renny leaned nonchalantly against the cypress and gazed off into the bayou. Amelie sat cross-legged next to me. She absent-mindedly reached over and scratched Mrs. Hart’s ear. To my surprise, she didn’t object.
“I suppose,” I said sharply, “you’re here to argue with me and demand I kill the demon.”
Amelie adamantly shook her head. “No. I would never say that. No one should.” She motioned to her brother. “Renny and I talked everything over. Despite what Odile thinks, we believe you and Esther are safe here.”
“Hiding like scared rabbits,” I snapped.
Her face twisted in anger. “Sometimes retreat is the best option—even when one wishes otherwise.” The savagery in her tone was startling until I remembered Delphine. Esther, Mrs. Hart, and I weren’t the only ones forced to run.
Renny regarded me sympathetically. “We have no other choice, mon ami.”
“Yes, we do.” Esther approached with T. Chris at her elbow. “I can open the door.”
“How did you—Esther!” I scolded. “You peeked again.”
“So what if I did?”
“You’re not supposed to be eavesdropping.”
She stamped her foot. “I don’t care. I peeked for an instant to find you and show off the fish. Then Odile came in and I asked her why you were upset and she told me. Don’t be mad. She said I had a right to know.”
Renny put a hand on Esther’s shoulder. “Perhaps, Odile is correct. You are a very brave child and deserve the truth. But, cher, do you know what opening a door into the Lower Worlds means?”
Esther nodded solemnly. “Uh-huh. It means the demon is killed before it gets out. It will, you know, someday. Then it will come here and hurt people.”
T. Chris spoke with pride. “Benoit’s can fend for themselves.”
“No one doubts your family’s bravery,” Renny assured him, “but against Feu De L’enfer—”
I finished the sentence. “Courage isn’t enough.” I took in the peaceful setting and imagined the bayou consumed in flames. “Odile’s right. The demon must be killed.” As I said the words, suddenly everything was so clear. All the doubt and uncertainties I wrestled with all my life faded away. I knew who I was. “And I’m the one to do it.”
Mrs. Hart barked. “She says you won’t go alone,” piped up Esther. “We’re coming with you.”
“So are Renny and I,” said Amelie.
I sputtered a protest. “You can’t. One lie can’t keep you all safe.”
Amelie whipped out her knife and calmly manicured her nails. “Then you’d best learn how to tell a whopper, Peter Whistler because we are all in this together.”
“Have I mentioned before you’re crazy?”
“Several times.” She shrugged indifferently. “The words mean nothing.”
“Do not fret, my friend,” Renny quipped. “Better men then you have tried to penetrate the thick skulls of Marchand women. None have ever succeeded. Most of those foolish enough to make the attempt were permanently damaged in the process.” He ducked as Amelie took a swing at him. “Truce!” he cried out with a grin. “One should never fight on an empty stomach, and I smell something good cooking.”
“My fishes!” Esther burst in with excitement. “Marie is frying them for lunch.”
“Then we must hurry. To be late for a meal is very bad manners.”
Amelie regard her brother is disbelief. “How would you know? You’ve never been late for a meal in your life.”
“There is always a first time.” They continued to banter about the finer points of Renny’s lack of etiquette as we headed to the cabin.
Odile waited for us at the table. She didn’t speak to me as I took my seat, but merely nodded her approval. Somehow she knew I came to a decision and had obviously filled in Chris and Marie. Chris clapped me on the shoulder. His eyes shone with respect. To my embarrassment, and Renny’s amusement, Marie kissed me on both cheeks. Conversation stuck to the finer points of fishing as we ate every last bit of Esther’s catch. Chris declared the meal was the best ever and for the first time I saw Esther blush.
After lunch concluded, we sat around the table discussing the next move. T. Chris parked himself next to Esther while his brothers and sister played a board game on the floor.
“Opening the door will not be simple,” said Odile.
“Really?” I muttered. “Do tell.”
The sarcasm bounced right off her. “Such a task requires special magic.”
“But Mamere,” said T. Chris, wide-eyed, “I thought you knew everything.”
Odile chuckled. “Not everything, cher. I have never opened a doorway to the Lower Worlds.” She stared off into the distance. “But I know someone who has.”
Marie gasped. “Odile, you can’t possibly consider asking Clovis Landry.”
“Clovis?” I echoed. “Odile, do you really know someone who’s been to the Lower Worlds?”
“He says he has and I’ve no reason to doubt him.”
“He’s a crazy couyon,” Chris grunted. “You can’t trust a word he says.”
“Clovis Landry may be a bit unusual—”
“Unusual?” Chris whispered an aside. “He thinks he’s a frog.”
“Not exactly,” Odile quickly assured me. “He thinks he’s the King of the Frogs.”
I gaped in disbelief. “My vote’s with Chris. That’s pure jingle-brained.”
“One cannot waltz into the Lower Worlds without a few consequences.” The shaman took note of the horror on my face and quickly added, “Not for you, though. Clovis was always impatient. He took too many risks and rushed into action without proper preparation. I’m sure he’s learned his lesson.” Odile reached over and patted my hand. “The effects of opening a door into an arcane dimension are highly exaggerated.”
Marie raised an eyebrow. “Then why does he live in a lily pond?”
“Solely during the warm months.”
I eyeballed the old woman suspiciously “What does he do during the winter?”
“He hibernates in the mud,” she answered without batting an eye. Her expression brightened. “A lucky thing summer is nearly here, no? We should have no trouble initiating a conversation.” I couldn’t tell if she was kidding.
“How are you going to find him?” Marie demanded. “He moves from place to place.”
“Don’t you mean hops?” Chris muttered under his breath in disgust.
Odile ignored him. “I have an idea where to start. Andre Savoy spotted him running naked through his okra patch two weeks ago. Andre shot at him, but fortunately he can’t hit a pirogue tied to a pier, so Clovis may yet be in the vicinity. Peter and I will find him.”
“Me?” I gaped at her.
; “Of course, you.” Odile seemed shocked the idea of tracking a lunatic through the swamp held no appeal. “Clovis must be convinced to pass on his knowledge, so he needs to hear your story first-hand.”
“What about me?” asked Esther.
“Your presence is not necessary. Stay here and catch more excellent fish.” Esther beamed. Tracking a lunatic through a swamp held no appeal for her, either.
Chris rose from the table with a sigh. “If you are determined to go through with this insanity, I will take you to Andre’s. I planned to go hunting tomorrow, although not for a couyon.”
Renny cleared his throat. “I’d be happy to join you. I’m known as a fair shot.”
“My brother is not usually so modest, Chris,” Amelie noted with sisterly pride. “He’s actually an expert marksman. He and father hunted often.”
“I appreciate the help. We’ll take the Sweet Marie. I’ve shrimped in areas near where Andre lives. If hunting is bad, perhaps shrimping will be better.”
Mrs. Hart padded over to Odile and barked rapidly. The old woman thanked the dog before Esther had a chance to translate. “You are very kind, Lucy. I’m sure you’ll be able to track Clovis once you get his scent. After six years living as a frog, the odor is rather unique.”
“Bon, we have an accord,” announced Chris. “The five of us will leave at first light. Renny and I will drop you off at Andre’s and then return the following day.”
Chris decided to spend the rest of the afternoon working on the Sweet Marie. We were headed deep into the bayou with a long paddle home if the motor quit. Renny and I volunteered to help. I never spent much time around engines, so I was pretty useless. Instead, I scrubbed the deck and stowed supplies. After finishing, I watched Chris and Renny clean the guns. Chris owned several rifles and a pistol. He noted my interest and volunteered to teach me to use the twenty-two.
“Absolutely not.”
Odile barked a dissent as she climbed into the boat. Amelie scampered in after her and handed a large sack of supplies to Chris.
