Angel Dance: A Shadow Council Case Files Novella: Quest for Glory Part 3

by John G. Hartness

  He hung up the phone and almost certainly turned to me, but I was already wending my way through the labyrinthine shop to the faux door made of fabric. I heard his footsteps as he walked to the door and clicked the deadbolt in place, then I heard the slight whisper of cardboard as he flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Good. Madison remembered me, and remembered that trouble often accompanied me. That trouble is frequently named John Abraham Quincy Holmwood Harker, but not this time.

  This time my trouble didn’t have a name as yet but seemed to have a taste for expensive foreign cars. I’ve noticed in my time that evil is often concerned with the trappings of wealth, while good often cloaks itself in poverty. I wonder if that is something that started with Jesus of Nazareth, or if it is a trait he adopted as well… I made a mental note to discuss that with Vlad the next time we were together, and perhaps to bring it up with Sister Evangeline as well, but then I shoved that thought to the back of my mind and stepped through the curtain of dazzling peacock silks.

  Lady Madison, any surname she once possessed long lost, now merely a secret between herself and various government agencies that cared about such things, sat behind a small round table with a crystal ball nestled in a depression in the center of the table. She was a lovely older black woman, somewhere between seventy and one hundred years old, her wizened face a road map of laughter and tragedy, of love and life and loss and all the moments in between. Brilliant blue eyes shone from the crinkles of her caramel face, a parting gift from some Frenchman generations back.

  She once told me that in her family blue eyes meant the child would be a powerful witch or sorcerer and asked me what the color of my eyes meant. I told her it meant that the freshest corpse in the graveyard had hazel eyes.

  I looked at the small metal folding chair and smiled. “I think I’ll try something different,” I said. I folded the chair and leaned it against the wall, then stepped through the open doorway into the shop’s tiny storeroom. I picked up four cinderblocks and brought them out in front of Madison. I arranged them into a sturdy, if somewhat firm, seat and settled my massive frame onto them.

  “How are you, Adam?” Madison asked. Her voice was like warm honey, smooth and slow, seeming to flow around the room twice before it got to my ears. I had heard that voice boom and crack like a thunderstorm on the ocean, though. I knew full well the power this old woman wielded, and I was not fooled for an instant by her honey-chile sweetness and her disarming old-lady grin. This was one of the most powerful witches in the world, and she did not suffer fools lightly. I tried never to be the fool with her.

  “I survive, Madison,” I replied. “Despite the best efforts of friend and foe, it seems, I survive.”

  “You still running with that Harker fool?” she asked, and her brow knit with frustration. “I told you that white boy gonna get you killed one of these days. It don’t matter how big or strong you are, if it lives, it can die. And you most definitely alive, boy.”

  I chuckled at that. Madison knew full well what those words meant to me, and her using them was no coincidence. “I am still working with Quincy on occasion, yes.”

  “You part of that mess in Atlanta?”

  “I was.”

  “You here in New Orleans on account of some bullshit errand he got you running?”

  I had to pause for a moment to consider my answer. I was, in fact, working with Harker to recover the Implements in order to restore the Archangels to Heaven and God to His throne, but I didn’t look upon this quest as an “errand.” It was best to be clear with Madison, however.

  “I am here on his behalf, yes.”

  “Shit, Adam.” She dragged out the curse into multiple syllables, making it sound like sheeeee-it. “You know that dumbass cracker magician is fucking around with things he don’t understand again, right?”

  “This time I fear that we are dealing with forces that none of us understand,” I said. “This job involves Archangels.”

  “Oh, shit, son. You messing with stuff way above your pay grade now. Yours and Harker’s and his damn bloodsucking uncle’s, too. You Shadow Council jackasses always got to be messing with stuff. Always got to be trying to fix shit that don’t need to be fixed. What you trying to do now? Bring back God?” She glared at me across the table, almost daring me to tell her that’s exactly what we were doing.

  And, of course, that’s exactly what we were doing. “Yes,” I said. There’s no point trying to lie to Madison—she can sense it, even in me.

  She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her abundant chest. “You are a damn fool, Adam. You might be the most foolish damn fool that has ever lived.”

  “I’m not going to argue that point, Madison,” I said. “I fear at this point in my long life there is too much evidence to support your opinion. My foolishness aside, will you do a scrying for me?”

  “I suppose,” she said with a sigh. “I might not be done fussing with you yet, though. But you ain’t here just for a scrying. I can see something is heavy on your heart today, old friend. What is it?”

  Madison has always had a gift for seeing, and not just what is foretold in the cards or what appears in the crystal globe she has resting over the fiber-optic projector set into her table. She can read the body language of any mark at any card table, which led to her being banned from hundreds of casinos across the country. She can read auras from people and objects, and she can read the emotions of even a manufactured man such as myself. I asked her once how she accomplishes such a thing, and she simply replied with, “It’s magic, you great big idiot.”

  “Oliver is dead,” I said. There was no need to elaborate. She knew Oliver, in the way that all talented practitioners of magic in an area come across each other at some point in their lives. They were not friends, but I knew of no animosity between them.

  “I heard about ‘dat. It’s a shame, it is. He was a good man and a strong wizard. He did a lot of good in that part of the city. Loved that granddaughter of his, too. You meet her? She’s a fine-looking woman.”

  “I did meet her, and yes, she is a lovely woman,” I replied. I have learned long ago that Madison has a hint of the matchmaker about her, and it is better to just let her go on about her hints and innuendos and pretend to miss the clues than it is to make any objections to her interfering in my nonexistent love life.

  “But why does that have you worried, cher? Oliver had a heart attack, from what I hear. He was an old man, and that happens to old men. He didn’t have nothing on you, of course, but you a special case.” That was certainly one way of putting it. Madison and I had never gone in-depth as to my origins, but she was not an unintelligent woman, and the scars I bear in particular places make it fairly clear that I am not what anyone would consider “normal.”

  “He did not have a heart attack,” I said. “One of the local youth saw a man in an expensive car go into Oliver’s house. There were flashes of light in the windows, in many colors, then the next day Oliver was found dead.”

  Madison looked troubled, and I knew this was the first she was hearing about this man. “What kind of car? What did the man look like?”

  “The boy said it was an expensive sports car, and all he knew about the man was that he was a white man.”

  “That drew some eyes in that ‘hood,” Madison said.

  “Especially from the gang members who live across the street,” I agreed.

  “Too many shady white men in the Quarter to pick one out of the crowd, and ain’t no parking down here, so I don’t know if I’d know him if he walked in the front door.”

  “Well, if your security camera suddenly stop working, I would take that as cause for alarm,” I said. “I believe this man was responsible for the fire at my hotel earlier today, and the security footage was destroyed.”

  “That makes sense, though, if it was in a fire,” Madison said.

  “True enough,” I agreed. “But the camera on the ATM across the street also failed within a few minutes of the fire.”


  Madison nodded, her close-cropped white hair framing her skull as she did. “Yeah, that’s more than a little bit strange, my friend. I’ll keep a look out, and I’ll make sure Alexander does the same.”

  “Please apologize to Alexander for my poor manners earlier. I was perhaps a bit intense when I spoke with him.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. Boy needs to toughen up anyway. He’s too much of a delicate damn flower. Now, you done warned me about the bad mojo man. What you want me to see for you?”

  “I’m looking for a horn,” I said.

  “Boy, you in New Orleans,” she said with a cackle. “If we didn’t invent jazz down here, we damn sure perfected it. You gone need to be a touch more specific with what you asking for.”

  I leaned forward and lowered my voice. No matter how much Madison trusted her employee, I didn’t know the boy and didn’t need him knowing my business. “I am looking for the Horn of the Herald. I have to find the Horn of Archangel Sealtiel, so I can call him back to service and return him to Heaven.”

  Madison looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. “Well, I suppose that’s a relief. I was worried it was going to be something difficult, like making the Earth rotate backward. No, all you need to do is find the Implement of one of the most powerful beings in the whole world and coerce an Archangel to return to Heaven after millennia on Earth. What do you plan to do after lunch, go to Disneyland?”

  “So you can’t do it?” I asked.

  “Oh no, son, you not getting out this that easy,” she said. “Remember, boy. The difficult we can do immediately; the impossible takes just a little more time. This is going to take a little time, but we’ll find your horn. Now put your hands on the crystal. I’m going need a little blood for this.”

  6

  Madison knew better than to try and use my blood for her invocation. Not only is it a thick, viscous substance more akin to crude oil than the sanguine stuff of human life, no one is exactly sure what it is made up of. Since my father’s death, which was regrettably not at my hand, there has been no one living who knew exactly how he transformed me from my dead component parts to the walking, talking, thinking, and somewhat living creature that I am. His notes were lost in the fire that destroyed his laboratory, and I was somewhat too preoccupied with my pending incineration to rescue them.

  No, she drew a small athame from beneath the table and pricked her thumb, bringing a small drop of bright crimson to the surface. She smeared the blood onto the crystal and pressed her palms to the stone. The cool orb immediately grew warm and began to glow with a soft amber light as her essence fused with the magic of the stone.

  I have spent many years around practitioners of magic, both dark and light, and had many conversations with them about the origin of their ability to manipulate the natural forces of the world and bend the world to their whim. I have received as many answers as I have had questions as to the source of their power, and Madison was no different. She believed firmly that the spirits of her ancestors lent her their power to manipulate the world around her, and that she was merely a vessel for power and information from the spirit realm. It made as much sense as any other explanation I had received, so I merely sat mute with my hands on the still-warming crystal sphere.

  “Grandmother Maybelle, hear my plea,” Madison said, her voice light and child-like as she called upon one of her favorite ancestors. She once explained to me that her Mamaw Maybelle had been her favorite elderly relative when she was a little girl, that Maybelle always had a mint or a Werther’s candy tucked away in an apron pocket and that little Madison would sit on her lap and dig through the old woman’s pockets for the sweet, giggling along as her grandmother pretended to be ticklish at the child’s quest. She called upon Grandmother Maybelle most often when I asked her for help, but I had also seen her call on the spirits of other relatives, including once her father, a big, bellicose man who she only went to in times of great need and in search of strength and power.

  The stone pulsed in a deep, slow rhythm, almost like a heartbeat, and Madison’s head lolled forward. Seconds later, her head snapped up, and she fixed me with a sharp gaze. “What you want now, man of dead men?” Her voice was waspish, her words more pointed, and her eyes narrowed as she spoke. “Why you back here looking to drag my grandbaby into your mess with that Harker boy?”

  I started at Grandmother Maybelle’s tone. She had never spoken to me directly before, choosing to communicate with Madison and let her relay her words to me. Apparently, my work with Quincy Harker and the Shadow Council had attracted attention past the mortal plane.

  “Don’t look at me like something done bit you on your big dead behind, golem,” she ordered. “I done asked you a question, and I expect you to answer it before I start worrying myself with any of yours.”

  “I am here because Madison has helped me in the past, and I need her assistance once more. I seek—”

  “I know what you looking for, boy, and it better to not speak of it while you talking straight to the other side. We got eavesdroppers on both sides of this rock, and I don’t want to hear about you bringing any pain down on Maddie’s head.”

  “Nor do I, but I believe that pain may be here regardless,” I said. “There have been attacks against practitioners of the arts in New Orleans. That is the other reason I am here—to warn Madison.” I paused, then went on. “She is a friend, and I have precious few of those. I would not see her harmed if I can prevent it.”

  Madison/Maybelle’s expression softened, and she nodded at me. “That’s good, boy. She my last grandbaby, and as much as I want to see her again, I’m in no hurry for her to cross that river, if you know what I mean.”

  “Only in theory,” I said with a rueful smile.

  The laugh that ripped from Madison’s mouth was pure and loud, almost startling in its intensity. “You a funny one, golem. Maybe one day you find where that nasty man that made you tucked your soul away and you can be a real boy, just like the puppet in that cartoon.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my mind whirling at the suggestion.

  “Oh child,” the woman laughed again, throwing her head back. “You done spent all these years trying to find out what you are, but you got no idea what you could be. You need to take a look past the mirror someday. But for now, you can find what you seek just behind the door.” Her head sagged forward, and Madison let out a long sigh. She jerked once, then sat up straight, looking around at the room.

  “Did she give you anything useful?” she asked, taking her hands off the stone. Grandmother Maybelle was obviously gone, and now it was back to me and Madison in the storeroom of her voodoo shop.

  “She certainly gave me things to consider,” I said. “I don’t know how useful the information will be, but there was a lot to think about in her words.”

  Madison peered at me, as always seeing more behind my words than I tried to show. “I don’t think you’re just talking about finding a fancy trumpet in the Quarter, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. There are things your grandmother mentioned that have caused me to rethink many of the preconceived notions that I have long held about myself. I shall have to spend some significant time exploring these ideas. After we have you somewhere safe and I have located my absentee angel and his Horn.”

  “What do you mean, have me somewhere safe? I’m not going anywhere.” She said it very matter-of-factly, like I was insane for even considering the idea.

  “Madison, there is someone killing magic users in New Orleans. They have already murdered Oliver, and they tried to kill me today. This is not someone without resources or power. I would not wish to see you hurt.”

  “Neither would I, Adam, love. But I am not leaving this shop. Marie Laveau’s is a New Orleans institution and the only place in town some folks can find the things they need to practice their rituals. We can’t just shut down.”

  “I’m not asking you to shut down, just to take a few days off. Leave Alexander here to manage the shop while you get som
ewhere safe until things calm down.”

  “You mean until you kill this man hunting down magicians,” she corrected. Her disapproval was clear on her face.

  “Oliver was a friend,” I said. “I don’t have many of those. It makes me very protective of the ones I do have.”

  She stared at me for a moment, then sighed. “It don’t matter. I can’t leave. Xander can’t run the store by himself. I got to look out for him. He’s my dead sister’s boy, and he’s blood, but he don’t have the touch. There’s nothing to protect him from some of the things I keep in the back room here. He can’t sell that stuff—only somebody with power can touch it without getting hurt. I leave him alone here for more time than it takes to go get lunch, and it’s liable to mean his life.”

  I looked at my friend, and there was nothing about her that said I would be able to persuade her to leave this place. “There is nothing I can say to dissuade you from this path, is there?”

  “I could ask you the same question, couldn’t I, old friend?” She gave me a slight smile, and I nodded.

  “That is fair,” I said. That settled to no one’s satisfaction, I changed the subject. “Your grandmother said something about looking for what I seek behind the door. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Madison thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Not a damn thing, Adam. I’m sorry, but you know how ghosts are. Sometimes I swear they like to be obtuse just for the pure hell of it.”

  I smiled and stood up. “I do, yes. Thank you, Madison. Please try to stay safe in the coming days. This man, or whatever he is, burned down an entire hotel in an attempt to do me harm. I have no doubt that he will be at least as serious in his attempts to eliminate you if he deems you a threat.”

  She chuckled. “If he don’t think I’m a threat, then he’s a bigger damn fool than you are,” she said. “Oliver was my friend, too. More than that, back in the day.” A wistful smile crossed her lips. “I will miss that grouchy old bastard. If that son of a bitch comes for me, he’d better come heavy because I’ll set the ghost of Queen Marie her damn self on his sorry ass.” She gave a real laugh then. “We’ll see how the son of a bitch likes that.”