by Eric Wilder
“God save us, lad,” he said. “I’ll take it from here. Your men need you back upstairs.”
Sounds of battle died behind them as Rory, Slick, and Lucky raced down the narrow stairway. They found the door to the basement ajar, intense light radiating through the crack. Rory hit the door at a full run, tripping and tumbling down a short flight of stairs leading to a circular room.
A huge granite boulder sat in the center of the small room. Rory grabbed his sword and picked himself off the ground. The great stone was moving. Soon, arms, legs, and creepy tentacles began protruding from the base of the boulder. Using his weight and strength, he attempted to keep the stone plug over the hole. Slick and Lucky stood barking as he struggled to keep shut the door to hell.
Unspeakable fiends, evil spirits, and demons finally managed to push the boulder aside and began streaming up from the fiery depths below. Rory backed away toward the stairs, cutting down demons as they exited the hole. The two dogs stood beside them, ripping at flailing limbs of frenetic demons.
A stench of death pervaded the basement oozing with demon’s blood as Rory, Slick, and Lucky stood at the base of the stairs, blocking the onslaught pouring from the depths of hell. Not knowing if he could hold his position, he looked at the dogs, gave the basement door a glance, and then shook his head. After crossing himself, he began attacking the demons again with renewed passion.
***
An expression of horror and disbelief appeared on the face of the harpy when Exethelon pierced her heart. Clutching the hilt with both hands, she sank slowly to the floor. As life seeped from her body, she transformed back into a human. J.P. felt the dagger’s power surging up his arms when he pulled it out of her heart.
“Exethelon is yours now,” I said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I wrapped Desire in a blanket, carrying her as I followed Abba and J.P. back into the hallway. We waited on him as he used the key to open all the doors on the floor.
“Sister Gertrude is dead,” he said. “We have to get out of here.”
Though all the former prisoners looked in better shape than Desire, they were in obvious shock as they exited their cells and joined us in the hall. J.P. took a moment to address them.
“There’s a battle waging downstairs. Let’s all stay together, and I’ll lead you through the fighting to the portal that will deliver you to safety.”
Abba stayed close to me, stroking Desire’s hair, trying to comfort her as we started down the stairs. Desire felt so light that I had no difficulty carrying her. Sounds of battle accosted our senses when we reached the ballroom. Screams and wails of dying and wounded fighters met us when we made it to the base of the stairs.
“That open door up ahead is the interspatial portal. It will take you to a strip joint that exits on Bourbon Street.”
“You must come with us,” Abba said, clutching his wrist.
“I don’t see Rory or the dogs. They must be in the pit. I’m going to rally the Swamp Monsters and lead them down there.”
“No, they may already be dead. If you go, they’ll kill you too,” she said.
Instead of answering, J.P. embraced her. Abba was crying when their kiss ended.
“Since that may be the first and last time I ever get to kiss you, I wanted to make it a good one.” He turned to walk away, stopping, as if he’d forgotten something. “Wyatt, take good care of those two girls.”
***
J.P. waded into the battle in the main ballroom. An experienced combat officer who’d seen plenty of action in Afghanistan, he quickly assessed the situation, realizing the Swamp Monsters were getting the worst of the exchange.
Guinevere had given him incorrect information. Sister Gertrude’s Swiss Army was much larger than she had told him. The Swamp Monsters were outnumbered at least four to one. While they were presently holding their own, he knew he had to do something to change the course of battle.
Barzoom turned when J.P. yelled his name. J.P. grabbed his nose and made a face.
“Stink ’em out!” he said above the din.
Barzoom understood instantly. The foulest odor J.P. had ever smelled soon began filling the room. Sister Gertrude’s Swiss Guard began gagging, rubbing their eyes, grabbing their throats and dropping their weapons.
Haze drifted in the air of the large ballroom, trolls, and ogres running for the door. In the military, J.P. had experienced gas attacks. Nothing prepared him for the horrible effects of the Swamp Monster’s foul odor. He was about to run for the front door himself when he saw one of the trolls hadn’t deserted the fight. He was standing behind Barzoom, preparing to lop off his head with his sword. Drawing upon some inner strength he didn’t know he had, he launched Exethelon at the troll.
Sister Gertrude’s warrior fell over dead as Exethelon found its mark. Barzoom wheeled around. When he saw the dagger, he grabbed the hilt and pulled it out of the dead troll. In an instant, a golden glow began emanating from the blade. J.P. lurched forward, joining him, wrenching the sword out of the fallen troll’s hand.
When J.P. raised the sword in a salute to Barzoom, and they touched blades, his eyes stopped burning. The weapon took on the same golden glow as Exethelon’s. Realizing what had just occurred, he began picking swords up off the floor and tossing them to the remaining Swamp Monsters. Forming a semi-circle around Barzoom, they extended their swords as he touched each one of them with Exethelon. All the blades were soon aglow. The Swamp Monsters began to dance and howl.
“Too early to celebrate,” J.P. said. “The magic dagger is yours now. Lead us to the basement. We have a world that needs saving, and it may already be too late to do it.”
J.P. and the Swamp Monsters raced down the stairs to the basement door. From the sounds of battle coming from behind it, they knew Rory, and the dogs were still holding the demons from hell at bay. When Barzoom burst through the door, Rory came tumbling out. He was bloodied and bruised but came up fighting.
Seeing that Rory was down, the demons from hell began pouring through the door. When they did, the Swamp Monsters attacked, and the fight was on. The big Scot’s eyes opened when Barzoom touched Aila with Exethelon. Bounding to his feet, he sprang into battle, his sword slashing with newfound strength.
“Help me, lads,” he said, calling to the Swamp Monsters.
The stairway down to the pit of hell was narrow, only allowing one person at a time to pass. Barzoom and Rory were leading the way, slowly pushing the demons back down the stairs.
“Find Slick and Lucky,” Rory called to J.P. “They’re hurt. Don’t let the demons drag them to hell.”
Rory’s words incited the Swamp Monsters, and they began fighting even harder. They had just driven the last demon into the pit when J.P. found Slick and Lucky.
Blood oozing from numerous lacerations covered their fur. They both looked dead. J.P. left them to help Rory and Barzoom lift the giant boulder and drop it on the gateway to hell. The circular basement grew suddenly quiet. Then a howl went up. The Swamp Monsters began dancing and pounding the floor. Rory was dancing with them until J.P. grabbed his arm.
“You did it, big fellow. The world is safe for hundred-sixty more years, and it’s all thanks to you and the dogs.”
J.P. shook his head when Rory said, “Where are Slick and Lucky?”
Chapter 39
Abba was in tears as we loaded everyone into the portal and shut the door behind us. Several of the young women we’d just rescued grew light-headed and passed out. Dozens of patrons of Sister Gertrude’s gentlemen’s club looked at us in shock when we exited the portal.
“Get out of our way,” I said when an angry man in a pinstriped suit got in our faces.
When he didn’t immediately respond, I shoved him against the wall and kept walking, through the front door and into the madness of Halloween on Bourbon Street.
Past midnight, we could clearly see the fireworks exploding in the sky over the river. For the first time in many days, the ground fog had disappeared. Si
ster Gertrude’s former sex slaves began clapping and cheering. One of the young women melted away into the crowd.
“Wait,” Abba said, calling to her. “Don’t run away. We can help you.”
Another soon followed her. Before long, they’d all disappeared into the cluster of masked insanity rampant on the world’s most famous street. Abba started to cry.
“They are survivors,” I said. “They’ll be okay. Right now, we have to get Desire to a doctor.”
“A doctor may restore her body. Nothing will ever restore what that horrible Sister Gertrude stole from her.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Her soul. Oh, Wyatt, what are we going to do?”
“Get her to a doctor first and worry about her soul later. We’re losing her. I can feel her slipping away.”
Abba jumped when someone touched her shoulder. When he spoke, his African accent was unmistakable.
“Thank God I’ve found you,” he said.
“Lando, is that you?” I asked.
It was Lando Impeke, the caretaker of St. Roch’s Chapel. We could see his snowy hair and broken tooth when he pulled the mask up over his head and smiled.
“Yes, I’ve been searching for you since darkness fell. Thank God you’re alive.”
“How did you know we’d be here?” I asked.
“I knew. Let me see the girl.”
I pulled back the blanket from Desire’s face, and Lando touched it with the stump of his right hand.
“She’s barely breathing,” I said. “We need to take her to a doctor.”
“Her body will survive,” he said. “It is her soul that needs saving. We must take her to St. Roch.”
“That’s crazy,” Abba said. “She needs a doctor, not your religious mumbo-jumbo.”
Lando gazed up at me. “My car is a few blocks away. I am here for a reason. Even if you do not believe me, take a leap of faith.”
We pushed through the masked crowd on Bourbon Street, happy revelers unaware of our plight. When we reached a quiet side street intersecting Bourbon, Lando led us into the darkness. As the noise behind us began to die away, Abba continued to sob and to grumble.
“This is insane,” she said. “There’s nothing to gain by going to St. Roch. You don’t believe this man’s malarkey, do you?”
“You’ve seen things over the past two days you would never have believed,” I said. “Now, I believe Lando was on Bourbon Street for a reason. If he thinks he can help Desire, then I’m going to let him try.”
Though her grumbling ceased, her tears did not. Even several blocks from Bourbon Street, we could still hear the crowd noise in the distance, and see colorful prisms of light exploding in the sky. After some difficulty piling into Lando’s shocking pink Volkswagen, we left the French Quarter on our way to the nearby St. Roch Cemetery.
Lando parked outside the locked gate, light from the full moon shining down on the entrance as we exited his old beater. Desire was lifeless in my arms as he unlocked the gate. When he did, they swung open, a metallic clang beckoning us to enter. The moon illuminated our path as we approached the statue of the little girl.
“Remove the blanket and lay her on the statue,” Lando said.
I didn’t know if Desire was still alive when I laid her atop the statue of the sick girl lying in bed. If she was still breathing, her breath was so faint as to be imperceptible. As she lay prone on the statue, Lando knelt beside it and began to pray. I watched, waiting for a miracle that didn’t occur. Undeterred, Lando glanced up at Abba.
“Help me,” he said.
“I can’t. I don’t believe what you’re attempting will do Desire a bit of good.”
Lando was short, barely reaching Abba’s shoulder. He stood and clutched her hand.
“This is as much about you as it is Desire. Can you explain the moon and stars?”
“I don’t need to explain them. I can see them and know they are there.”
“What about the places you cannot see? Do they not exist?”
“Of course they do,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“You’re just trying to confuse me,” she said.
“What is a shadow, or the reflection of a reflection? Where does a wisp of vapor go when it disappears in the blue of the sky?”
“Stop tormenting me. I don’t have all the answers.”
“Then quit trying to analyze what you do not understand. Allay your doubts and let faith flood into your soul. What you are about to witness has but a single explanation. Take my hand, my only hand; kneel with me and help me pray.”
I didn’t know if he’d convinced Abba, or if she were simply humoring him. Whichever, she took his left hand and knelt in front of the statue. Lando had begun reciting a short prayer, saying it repeatedly. Abba finally joined him, her voice low at first and then with greater intensity.
“Please, God, restore this woman’s soul.”
Raised a Catholic, I’d heard of miracles occurring all my life. I’d never witnessed a miracle and didn’t expect to witness one as I gazed at Desire draped across the statue in front of me. As Lando had said, it didn’t much matter what I believed.
As I watched, a golden light washed over the trio. Desire’s eyes popped open, and the color of her hair began to change. When she stared up and saw me, she began to smile.
“Wyatt, is that you?”
***
Lando dropped us off on the street in front of Bertram’s bar. We found the establishment filled with masked patrons. Bertram was working feverishly to fill the orders of beer, wine, and whiskey. He stopped when he saw us straggle through the front door.
“Good God almighty!” he said. “I was beginning to think you two was dead. Is this . . . ?”
“It’s me, Bertram,” Desire said, giving him a long hug.
“Baby, you look pretty as a picture. Where you been?”
“I have no idea,” she said. “The last thing I remember is leaving Mom’s house. Have you seen her?”
“She was in here last night,” he said.
“Is she . . . ?”
“Doing just fine, though worried as hell about you.”
“She shouldn’t worry. I’m with friends, now.”
“Anybody need a drink?” he asked.
“You have Southern Comfort?” Abba asked. “I’ve grown partial to it the past few days.”
“Honey babe, I got most any kinda alcohol you can think of. Let’s go to the bar. I’ll make some room for you.”
A couple of regulars sitting at the end of Bertram’s bar smiled when he comped their tabs and sent them home. We were soon on stools across from the Cajun bartender, Abba, between bites of gumbo and sips of Southern Comfort, recounting the all but unbelievable things we’d experienced the past few days.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Have some more whiskey.”
“We’re going up to my room and crash,” I said after a glass of Bertram’s lemonade and two bowls of his spicy gumbo.
“That mangy cat of yours must have known you were coming. I ain’t been able to get her to leave the room all day.”
“Good,” I said. “I’ve missed her.”
As we pushed through the ensuing Halloween party to the stairs, Abba began to sob.
“J.P., Rory, and the dogs are dead. I just know they are.”
“Bull shit!” I said.
Desire hugged her tightly and also began to cry. I hugged them both.
“Wyatt, I don’t think I can take this,” Abba said. “What’ll I do?”
Desire squeezed her hand and said, “Have faith.”
Abba continued to cry as we climbed the short flight of stairs to my room. Her phone began ringing when we reached the door.
“My phone’s working,” she said.
“Then answer it,” I said.
It was J.P. Abba wiped away her tears when she heard his voice.
“I’ve been so worried,” she said. “Are you okay?”
; “Couldn’t be better. I’m sitting here at my camp with Rory.”
“Thank God!” she said.
“Rory’s as drunk as a skunk and singing bawdy Scottish songs. Hell, he may as well be, cause he smells worse than skunks. Guess maybe so do I.”
“What happened with the demons from hell?” she asked.
“Don’t know how they did it, but Rory and the dogs managed to keep them at bay in the basement till me, Barzoom and the other Swamp Monsters got there to help them. The Swiss Army dropped their swords and ran when the Swamp Monsters let loose their stink. Barzoom used Exethelon to give the fallen swords magical powers. Between their skunk odor, magic swords, and Rory, we managed to herd the demons back to hell, and then plugged the hole.”
“What about the dogs?”
“They were all but dead when I found them in the basement. Neither one of them opened their eyes the whole way back to Tubah’s house. Rory was crying like a baby, and maybe so was I.”
“Are they dead?”
“Why hell no they ain’t dead,” J.P. said. “You think Tubah Jones was gonna let two heroes die? She gave them some concoction that revived them. They’re bandaged up like a couple of accident victims, but their tails are wagging, and they are both going to make it.”
“Thank God!” she said. “I’ve been so worried.”
“The Swiss Army is gone. Last I seen of what was left of them, they was holding their noses and hightailing it through the swamp.”
“And the vampires?”
“Guinevere, the vampire girl that had the key to Desire’s cell, knew where Sister Gertrude kept all her ownership papers. She’s now the owner of High Rollers and is hiring all the other girls. Said the first thing she was going to do was fire the mouthy manager nobody likes.”
“Vampires on Bourbon Street?”
“Hell, girl, what else is new?”
“And the castle?”
“That’s the strange part,” he said. “As we was leaving, a thick cloud covered it. When it disappeared, the castle was gone.”
