by G A Chase
The head bartender cleaned a beer stein with slow deliberation. “I get it. After a month in dimensional isolation, crowds must induce a little claustrophobia for you. We’ve got enough staff. Do what you need to do.”
From Charlie’s tone, Myles could tell that he was feeling a little on the outs as a friend. “Come with me. Be a little irresponsible for once.”
The jab brought forth a laugh from the boisterous manager. “I’m usually the one getting you into trouble.” Though the bar was still hopping, Charlie took off his bar apron. “With you gone, I’ve been training Raven as my assistant. I suppose tonight’s as good as any to see how well she manages shorthanded with no notice.”
Myles hadn’t meant to dump the night’s work on the seasoned bartender. “So long as you think she can handle it. I’d hate to show up for my next shift to find the labels peeled off the bottles in protest.” Walking the streets of the Quarter with his friend at his side helped Myles breathe a little easier. “I hope convincing you to play hooky won’t get you into trouble with the boss.”
“I got you the job. It only seems fair for you to get me out of mine. After a year of listening to the same musical set list every night, I’m about to pay a brass band to set up on the corner. Anything would beat another rendition of “Take Me Home Tonight.””
They climbed the stairs to his and Kendell’s apartment. “Watch for the puppies. They’ve become escape artists. Apparently, they think all of New Orleans is their backyard.”
“After what you told me about them being hellhounds, I can’t say as how I blame them.”
Myles pushed the door open far enough for the three playful balls of fur to come out and bark at the stranger. “The only thing that’s demonic about these guys is the way they can chew a sandal to shreds.”
As with everyone who entered the apartment, Charlie was overcome with the cuteness and on the floor playing with the puppies before Myles got the door shut.
Kendell came out of the bedroom in her tank top, short black skirt, and ripped fishnet stockings—her typical band attire. “And I thought Cheesecake made a racket when someone was at the door.”
With another man in the room, Myles gave Kendell a more restrained embrace than usual. “We thought we’d tag along tonight.”
He knew she understood. Every member of the team had found it uncomfortable being without the others for any length of time.
“So this is Sleeping Beauty.” Charlie knelt next to the couch where Sanguine lay in repose. “You don’t think maybe a kiss from me might wake her?”
Had the woman not been in a coma, Kendell’s laugh might well have woken her. “I love you like a brother, Charlie, but you’re not the one she’s waiting for.”
He swiveled around on his toes. “Any idea what might bring her out of her magical sleep?”
“We hoped once we all got some rest she might come out of it, but I guess Baron Samedi was right. Her internal clock must be on the fritz.”
Charlie got up before the puppies had a chance to knock him back down to the floor. “So you’re just going to leave her like this?”
“Of course not,” Myles said. “I need to contact the loas of the dead.”
“Those dudes again? When have they ever helped you?”
Myles had to admit, when it came to a crisis, it was Charlie and not the loas who came to the rescue. “They understand these interdimensional problems. We’re a little short on expertise here. Even Madam de Galpion hasn’t dealt with someone who’s come back from hell while asleep. We did already try our living resources.” Though he wasn’t a fan of Delphine, he had first checked her library for a solution.
Kendell grabbed her guitar case. “We can talk on the way.”
Cheesecake jumped onto the ottoman, taking up her usual protective spot to keep an eye on her human and puppy charges.
* * *
Myles snuck out the back door of the Scratchy Dog while the band was busy setting up their equipment and Charlie flirted with the woman behind the bar.
The hidden speakeasy was right where it had been in hell. Myles tried not to make too much noise as he yanked the old pallet away from the wall and struggled with the fake shutters’ latches. Kendell would be out to join him soon.
He didn’t need to call forth a loa at the club—making the rum offering at the apartment would have worked just as well—but after all he’d been through, he felt more at ease having a little separation between his life and his work.
He grabbed the bottle of rum from behind the bar and sat at the outdoor metal table. For a moment, he considered pouring only one glass. Sitting outside drinking while listening to Kendell and the band in the next room had more than a slight appeal, but he added a splash of rum to the second glass just the same.
When Papa Ghede materialized in the second chair with cane in hand, Myles thought about tossing his drink in the loa’s face. “I’m not dealing with that fucking stick again. Baron Samedi took it with him when he left hell. Whatever new problem you have with that damn thing, you can just—”
Papa Ghede pointed the handle toward Myles. “It’s yours.”
He sat, stunned, for a moment. Marie Laveau’s hand bones were still wrapped around the staff. The silver skull glowed from the green stone it encompassed. “What are you talking about?”
The head loa waved the end of the cane at him. “Baron Samedi needed it to help establish the gates of hell. His powers don’t come from this stick, though. If someone holds onto a possession long enough, that thing is bound to pick up on the individual’s energy. You of all people must know that.”
“Okay, but why are you giving it to me? We worked really hard getting that thing out of the land of the living.”
He laid the cane on the table. “You prevented Colin Malveaux from acquiring it, but this cane was always meant to find its way to you.”
“But how is that possible? The history of this thing goes back way before I was born.”
Papa Ghede downed the rum with one swallow. “Do I really need to explain time to you again?”
Myles refilled the loa’s glass, less out of respect than as an apology for not seeing the obvious. “After my firsthand experience in hell, I suppose not.”
“Take the cane, and see for yourself.”
Myles was actually afraid to touch it. “What happens if I accept it?”
“You won’t have omnipotent powers if that’s what’s worrying you. Consider the cane another marker on your life journey.”
A marker to where? The loas never did anything without a self-serving reason. “What’s in it for you?”
Papa Ghede rolled the cane from side to side across the table. “Colin Malveaux is secure—for now. Baron Samedi sealed the access from Colin’s hell to Guinee, so we have no way to keep an eye on his shenanigans. You and your friends, however, have established the connections we usually enjoy. By having the cane, you can be our emissary should the unfortunate happen.”
“You mean should Colin escape.”
Kendell put her hand on Myles’s shoulder before he knew she’d joined them. “What would happen if Colin did find a way out of hell?”
“He would be a devil among the living. The powers he’s learned in his imprisonment could transfer into life. My hope is that Myles will learn to use the powers of the cane before that happens.”
Myles didn’t like being used so blatantly. “You don’t give our hell much of a chance, do you?”
“In my experience with devils, it’s best to have contingency plans. Plus, Colin isn’t the only threat out there. You two need to be ready.”
Kendell clamped her fingers hard onto Myles’s shoulder. “What do you expect of me?”
“From our side, the cane will obey Myles, but he isn’t the one who secured its use among the living. Since you spun the silver skull back in place while in hell, when Myles takes the cane, you will replace Marie Laveau as the guardian.”
Myles could see there was no way of rejecting the gift.
Before Kendell could argue him out of his course of action, he reached over and grabbed the stick. Once he stood the black rod upright, the hand bones fell to the ground and turned to dust.
Papa Ghede’s continuous smile spread so far across his face that his eyes squeezed shut. “You won’t regret your choice.”
Myles couldn’t let the assumption go unchallenged. “I didn’t have a choice.”
The dark loa reached into his dusty, long coat and turned to Kendell. “I have something for you too. Consider it a replacement for the golden pick.”
“Whatever you have, I don’t want it. The golden pick proved to me that I have all the magic I’ll ever need already inside me.”
He pulled out an envelope and placed it on the table. “My offer isn’t of the paranormal variety. Of the gates of hell that you established, this building is the only one that isn’t physically secure. Mary’s plantation on the other side of the river has been in her family for generations. Miss Fleur will always be welcome in the convent, which, as part of the Catholic Church will never be torn down. The bank—”
“I get it,” Kendell said. “Of all the places we used, this is the only one we don’t have control over.”
He slid the envelope over to her. “With this deed, now you do. Both the stage that works for the band’s gate and this courtyard bar that Myles guards are covered by this paperwork.”
She pulled out the yellowed paper. “How did you end up with it? Don’t tell me it’s some poor soul’s attempt at buying their freedom.”
“Nothing so nefarious. Haven’t you ever wondered why these buildings so seldom come on the market? Those of us in the afterlife control most of the buildings along Frenchmen Street and the Quarter in some fashion.”
She gave him the squinting stare of suspicion Myles had seen too many times. “If you own the property, why give it to me?”
“Voodoo versus Wicca. Even though you are a voodoo priestess, you aren’t of the afterlife. The spirit of Agnes Delarosa will rest more easily knowing the property is in your hands. Were I to keep it, a conflict might arise.”
Myles had enough to worry about without adding the prospect of an interparanormal war. “So she’d own this place free and clear? No future payback or expectations?”
“As long as the two gates from the living to hell exist in this place, she’ll be unable to sell it. Should Colin find a way out, or should he be dealt with some other way, Kendell can dispose of the property as she sees fit. From our side, the deal fulfills our debt to her.”
“What debt?” Kendell asked.
Papa Ghede stood up. “Time prevents me from going into details.”
Myles suspected the time in question didn’t have to do with Papa Ghede rushing off. “You’re referring to something Kendell does in the future?”
“It’s not for me to dictate your paths, only to add a little encouragement where I can.”
Kendell hurried out her questions. “What about Sanguine? How do we wake her?”
“Sanguine Delarosa is not part of the voodoo continuum. She fell asleep in a realm created by her grandmother. All I can tell you is the fundamental truth that people move toward what they love. Find a way to attract her attention to something about life that gives her passion, and you might be able to wake her.”
* * *
Kendell would have happily sat on the floor, playing with the puppies all day, every day. “Why couldn’t they have given me a lifetime supply of puppies? Why did it have to be a drafty old nightclub?”
Polly had just finished her shift watching the pups at the apartment. When it came to Muffin Top, Polly was as infatuated as Kendell had been with Cheesecake as a puppy. “At least the band doesn’t have to worry about finding gigs. Admit it—owning property, especially if there’s no mortgage, isn’t all bad.”
“I’ve just never seen myself as a businesswoman.”
The bandleader lay flat on the floor so that she was eye to eye—or eye to tongue—with the dogs. “Charlie said he’d manage the club and tend bar with Myles. You know the girls and I will help secure other bands. And we’ve all been sworn to secrecy, so you won’t be thought of as some rich, snooty wannabe bohemian. Your reputation’s safe. So what have you got to worry about?”
Kendell knew her friend was right, just as she knew Papa Ghede was only trying to secure what they’d all created. “I know. Don’t for a minute think I’m taking the help for granted. I’d freak out if it weren’t for all you guys. Why do I feel so trapped?”
Polly finally sat up, taking Muffin Top into her lap. “I believe the word you’re trying to avoid is responsibility. I get it. When we first got the gig at the Scratchy Dog, I was thrilled. The feeling lasted for about five minutes. After that, the reality of showing up on time, making sure we packed the room, and praying for enough tips to keep all you girls in po’boys and beer settled in. You’ll get used to that knot in your stomach just like I have.”
“Thanks a lot. I haven’t eaten a full meal in two days.”
“What does Myles have to say?”
Kendell leaned back against the ottoman so Cheesecake could snuggle her head. The mother dog needed her love. “He says it’ll be good for both of us. He and Charlie are over there now, making plans. I still think his name should go on the deed with mine, but he’s being stubborn.”
“You’ll wear him down. I’ve never known you not to get your way with him. What about that cane?” Polly’s tone was a little too measured for the question to have been spontaneous.
“He fears it like I fear the club. But he’s doing his best to figure out what powers might be inside it. Did you hear the fireworks last night?”
“Sure. I figured there was another convention in town.”
Doughnut Hole was pulling on Kendell’s sandal for attention. “Nope. That was Myles. I made him sleep out on the veranda with Doughnut Hole.”
For the first time, Polly looked more interested in the conversation than in Muffin Top. “That was Myles? What did he do to get banished, and why would you make poor little Doughnut Hole sleep in the cold?”
New Orleans in early fall is hardly cold, even at night. “He’d been stroking that stick like it was Aladdin’s lamp. All he managed to do was make that green stone under the skull glow, so I teased him, saying it looked like he was trying to jerk it off.”
Polly wasn’t doing a very good job at suppressing her laugh. “And what did he say?”
“He looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘That’s right, baby. Glowing green voodoo jizz.’ That’s when I told him he wasn’t sharing my bed.”
“And Doughnut Hole?”
Kendell scratched Cheesecake’s head. “He’s getting a little rambunctious with his sisters. We’re going to need to wean them soon. Why are guys so gross sometimes?”
Polly lifted Muffin Top to her face. “This one’s coming with me, right?”
Kendell felt Cheesecake go rigid under her touch. “Soon. Mama dog’s not quite ready to let go of her brood.”
Polly reached over and petted Doughnut Hole’s curly hair. “You didn’t really make them sleep outside all night, did you?”
Kendell doubted there was anything Myles could do to make her that angry. “No. After an hour in bed alone I went out and cuddled with Myles. We both love sleeping outside, so it wasn’t really a banishment.”
* * *
Sanguine stood on the wooden dock over Lake Pontchartrain. Wind from the hurricane over the horizon sent waves that lapped against the piers and ruffled the snow-white feathers of her shoulder-to-heel-length wings. Her backless ivory dress covered her body from her neck to the tops of her golden sandals. The breeze exhilarated her as if she were already airborne. With a half dozen running strides, she was at the edge of the pier. She launched off the last board while spreading her ten-foot wingspan. Instantly, she was gliding over the water. She folded her arms against her chest and moved her wings against the night air. The massive appendages quickly had her well clear of the lake
.
Dream stages had been her passion as a novice witch learning from her grandmother. Though such stages were typically only useful for accessing the subconscious, in this dimension that straddled the real and the make-believe, she could spread her wings literally as well as figuratively. Dear, sweet Kendell would watch over her body for as long as Sanguine needed to complete her mission.
She reached for the hilt of the sword that hung from the sash of her dress and drew it forth like an avenging angel. Her wings beat hard against the wind. Her hair and dress rippled with savage fury.
Alone with her adversary in hell, she had her plan firmly in mind. Her grandmother, wise as she was, had been wrong. Kendell had been wrong. The adventure to hell with the gang acting like some Saturday-morning cartoon had accomplished only one thing—it had left Sanguine with the freedom to act on her own.
First, I’m going to kill you. She didn’t know what would happen if Colin left this hell, but anything would be better than him having access to the gates back to the living. Why do you people keep underestimating him? Where there’s a door, there’s multiple ways of opening it.
She wasn’t about to give him the opportunity to figure out how to subvert the idiotic seven gates. Sending Colin into some other realm, however, was just the first step.
Throughout her Wiccan training, Sanguine had been taught about the fluid nature of time. However, until she’d seen firsthand how the mystical energy could be made to stand still or even turned backward, she’d never grasped the importance of her grandmother’s lessons. I get it now, old witch. You built the playing field and set the rules, but you couldn’t engage in the game. You needed me to be your advocate. Once I untether him from this end point of his reality, I’ll go back and prevent Archibald Malveaux’s evil from ever taking root among the living.
Voodoo You Think You Are
