Eventually, Graham takes out her phone and summons what I assume is an employee who won’t ask any questions to the house that we hide in. The man brings us several fresh sets clothes, including some that fit. The rain has all stopped by the time we exit and return outside. The sun’s even out, and shining bright overhead.
Once outside, I get a better look at the man that Graham has summoned. It’s not hard to see that there’s nothing going on upstairs with him. He’s not stupid, or stoned out of his mind. His face is just slack, no expression. I look at Graham for explanation, and she smiles at me.
“Zombie.” She says, placing emphasis on the last half of the word. I look back at the man, confused, because he doesn’t seem to be rotting.
I look closer, though, and realize that he’s also not breathing.
“Oh. OK, then. Zombie.” I say, stepping back from the thing. Different from the movies, but still fucking creepy. I guess there’s more than one reason they call her the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.
I start to ask her more about the zombie, but Graham interrupts me.
“Questions will have to wait, I’m afraid.” she says. “I used a great deal of power today, and now have obligations to my patrons that I must keep. That means I need to leave New Orleans for a time, starting now. You should go, as well. There could still be more of those mercenaries waiting outside of the city.”
Annoyance makes me frown for a moment, but the feeling soon passes. Graham is right. There’s a decent chance that more gun hands are looking for me. If that happens, I’d be somewhere I can drop, which means far away from the Louisiana territory.
“Yeah.” I say, “but we still need to talk. There’s still so much that you need to tell me.”
“How about another set of Cafe du Monde beignets at the end of next week?” says Graham. “My obligations should be more than handled by Friday, and --”
“Graham, please don’t take this the wrong way.” I reply, interrupting her. “But there’s no way that I’m ever coming back to New Orleans.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I meet Graham ten days later, as agreed. The In-and-Out burger stand that we sit at is about as far across the country as we can get without dipping our toes into surf.
“These are not beignets.” says Graham, dropping her fried pastry back to her plate without taking a bite.
I smile back at her.
“I never claimed that bun-doughnuts are beignets.” I say, before taking another bite of my own treat.
“Besides,” I continue, “when you’re this far west, this is as close as you can expect.”
Sitting here with the sun on my back, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. In the last week, I’ve had time for luxuries like showers, beer, and breaking old friends out of jail.
All of those things had felt good, but not nearly as much as what I have planned next.
“So,” says Graham, breaking me away from my thoughts. “Have you decided what you’d like from my patrons in exchange for feeding them that old devil Beeze? It will take some doing, but I can carry the message for you if you’re sure that you’re set on not returning to New Orleans.”
I look down at my own cup of coffee and plate of finished quasi beignets. My recent trips have been very productive, now that I once again have the ability to drop properly. So productive, that I’d finished them and had time to sit down for a while and think.
“Maybe.” I say. “Though I first want to know a little of what you think.”
“About?” asks Graham.
“You said that your patrons had previously brought you back from the dead.”
Graham forces a smile when I say this, but not before I see her shiver. Apparently the memory of the ordeal still troubles her. Not great, but I decide to push on anyway.
“Yes.” She says, her tone shaky despite the fake smile on her face. “Why? Are you planning to die?”
I shake my head. No. Not exactly.
“When you died.” I continue. “How long were you gone for?”
Graham frowns at me.
“Moments.” She says. “And even that almost broke me.”
After hearing her words, it’s my turn to frown. Her descriptions from before about the cost of sanity sat uneasily with me. I shake my head again, though. I have to believe.
“Do you think that your patrons could bring someone back to life who’s been gone for longer than that?”
Again Graham frowns.
“Maybe. I think. Yes, actually. But, child, if its been years, as it is with your sister…” she says, guessing, correctly, who I have in mind. “Then there’s more than just resurrection standing in your way.”
“Oh?” I say, freezing, hope dying.
“Yes.” says Graham. “I was gone for moments, before angels or devils could even think to come for me. But for someone who’s been gone for years? My patrons can bring a body back to life no matter how long it’s been gone, but to have something in it, to have something other than some zombie… you need to remove the soul from its prison, either in Heaven or Hell.”
“That’s it?” I say, then laugh as waves of relief wash over me. “I’d drown Hell in an ocean and burn Heaven to cinders for Mary. If it’s possible, however remotely, then that’s the only thing I need.”
Graham smiles in return and turns back to her beignet, nodding.
“I knew you’d be interesting.”
END
The Brimstone Cycle will continue in INFERNO HEIST, so be sure to visit my Patreon for a sneak preview of the next chapter in the series!
GRATITUDE
Hey there. It’s me, McKinney.
I just want to thank you for checking out this special anthology edition of Brimstone Hustle, Hellfire Drop, and Devil Dog’s War. I hope you liked what you read, because that’s the point, isn’t it? A chance to escape, or learn, or just have some fun. That’s what books have been for me all my life, and yeah. I hope that my stories gave a little bit of that to you as well.
If you want to see more from The Brimstone Cycle then come visit the community at my Patreon, where I have more stories and even a few audio-dramas. Read new stories, vote on new posts, or even join the writing process as I work on my next set of books. It’s all there, and more, at https://www.patreon.com/mckinneycantwrite . I can’t wait to see you there, today!
The Brimstone Series Page 20
