by G A Chase
She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
22
“Like flying isn’t confusing enough,” Sanguine muttered to the mosquito flying point.
Seeing the past, present, and future while flapping her wings enough to prevent falling made Sanguine dizzy. Each time she changed where she was looking, she saw herself plowing headfirst into the scenery. Banking away from the impending collision, however, only changed what she was about to hit.
Her mosquito companions were of little help. If she could just land and see life through their eyes, maybe she could make some sense out of the multitime perspective, but they were insistent the only way to learn was to do, not observe. Besides, her awareness of them only extended to when she could see them. With them being so small, if she didn’t keep pace, they were out of sight within a few feet. The only answer had been to fly with them.
“I fucking hate you bugs.” Though animals had been her passion while learning about Wicca, entomology had always seemed a little too nerdy. Plus, she’d had enough bloodsucking boyfriends to know when she was being played. “Fly in a damn straight line!”
She felt their reluctance, but one by one, the little insects formed up in a squadron she could follow. As her eyes settled on the single direction, the myriad of futures and pasts reduced to the New Orleans Bank and Trust straight ahead. Though the insects only had to deal with fractions of a second, Sanguine’s perceptions of past and future lengthened the longer she stared in one direction.
“Damn it, Kendell!” She saw her friend walking out the front door of the establishment in five minutes. Just enough time to figure out an argument that would make Kendell scurry back home where she belonged.
However, instead of the bugs remaining focused on the path ahead, they became quite excited about the possibility of someone new to drink. The insect melee made Sanguine lose her concentration so thoroughly that she followed through on her premonition of sprawling, spread-eagle, against the front door of the bank just before Kendell opened it.
Kendell opened the door and looked down at her. “I honestly didn’t expect to find you this easily. What’s with the wings?”
Despite being spirit and not physical, Sanguine found her reactions to solid walls not that different from when she hauled her body around—mentally, if she hit a solid object, she crumbled to the ground.
She stood and fluffed up her wings. “I needed a way to get around more easily. I’d need to have a whole flock to carry me, and they don’t like flying at night. Wings seemed like the easiest solution.”
“They look good on you. Come on. Myles is holding the door open to Guinee. From there, we can reunite you with your body.”
She stared at Kendell, hoping to see her turn around and walk through the bank’s doors alone. “Why can’t you just leave?”
The intense look from Kendell lasted way too long. “What did you do to your eyes? They look like faceted crystals.”
“Must I explain everything I’ve been up to? Fine. I can see the past and the future. Are you happy now?”
Kendell’s folding her arms and giving a look of sisterly irritation was compounded by Sanguine seeing it before it started. “Then you know I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“We can debate all day about what you’re going to do and what I have planned, but I can see that’s not going to happen.” Sanguine was bluffing. Though she could see the future, hearing what was said didn’t come with her bug vision. Without the soundtrack, understanding what was about to happen was a matter of interpretation. She barely understood what she saw.
“Whatever you’re up to is draining the band of their spiritual energy. That connection Myles established with you is somehow still functioning even with you cut off in hell. If you can see far enough into the past, maybe you could ask your grandmother about it.”
“Doesn’t work that way.” The last thing Sanguine wanted was to explain what she didn’t understand herself. She sat on the stone wall that encompassed the bank so her wings could fall comfortably behind her. Looking down Royal Street gave her a sense of calm. Without people, the past, present, and future were reassuringly the same.
“What is it going to take for you to come home with me?”
“Help me kill Colin Malveaux.”
Sanguine didn’t need to look at Kendell to predict her reaction to that request.
“We’ve discussed this many times,” Kendell said. “Killing him doesn’t accomplish anything. This whole hell your grandmother built was to isolate him from the human continuum. If he dies, his evil just gets mixed in with the rest of us, or according to your Wiccan doctrine, he gets reincarnated. Either way, it’s not like we’re eliminating him.”
Sanguine toyed with the handle of her sword. “Killing him is only the beginning. I’m going back in time and systematically undoing every evil deed he committed—all the way back to when he stole Baron Samedi’s cane at the first Mardi Gras parade. I’m going to erase him from history. That, my dear magical sister, is what I call a plan.”
The silence behind Sanguine lasted for so long she wondered if Kendell had done the wise thing and walked back into the bank and gone home.
“Time travel isn’t possible.”
Sanguine was well aware of the argument, having battled the same issue when designing her plan. “Wrong. My grandmother moved Colin back in time with her hurricane. I know this isn’t life. It’s hell. And I know your next argument is Agnes Delarosa is the bedrock that this hell is built on, and as such, she can do whatever she wants—including breaking the natural laws like time. I didn’t say it would be easy.”
“She used a hurricane to move the clock backward. For all we know, he might be only a few minutes behind us. You’re talking about hundreds of years and not just in one jump.”
“I said it wouldn’t be easy.” Sometimes Kendell simply didn’t listen.
“And what about the band? You’re killing them with your little experiment. Or is that another wrong you’re somehow going to go back in time and correct?”
Hurting others hadn’t been part of Sanguine’s plan. The women Kendell counted on could be irritating, but they had bonded with Myles and funneled their energy to her. Had it not been for that zap of spiritual electricity, Sanguine might not have realized her power in this dimension. But then, they might also be the ones preventing her from going back in time.
“I’m not asking for them to hold onto me. If I could break the connection, I would. I’ll agree to stay here with you until you find a way to free them, but I’m not going back to the living while Colin still exists.”
“And what about your body lying on our couch? Should I just get a big glass coffin and use it as our coffee table?”
Sarcasm was an art form, and Kendell was as sophisticated with it as a child drawing stick figures. “If it’s in the way, take it back to my grandmother’s cabin. No one will bother it there. I’m going back in time, not forward. If this works, I’ll be awake by the time you get home.”
“You just don’t get it, do you? I love you, you idiot. Myles and the band care about you too. That’s what’s holding them to you. Your grandmother cut Colin off from all human contact, and that’s why he can move back in time. No one gives a rat’s ass what happens to him. You might have wings and be able to see the future, but so long as people love you, there’s no way you’re moving back in time. You exist. So come up with a better plan because I’m not dumping your body in some swamp.”
“And what about Colin?”
She could hear Kendell stomping around the bank’s porch behind her. “We just built the seven friggin’ gates. He’s not going anywhere.”
“Unbelievable. You really think he’s just going to meekly accept being confined to his cell, don’t you? Or maybe you think he’ll learn his lesson and approach the seven gates to prove he’s changed. I keep telling you, snakes don’t change.”
“I expect him to try the seven gates,” Kendell sai
d. “They’re the easiest way out of his incarceration.”
Sanguine turned back to Kendell, even though the vision of the continued argument made her dizzy. “Suppose he does figure out how to convince Mary he appreciates old New Orleans culture. Shouldn’t be that hard really—he was a part of it. You understand enough of what my grandmother built. Tell me what happens when he actually learns something.”
The look of frightened acceptance on Kendell’s face was worth watching, from the buildup through the completion. “Time moves forward.”
“I don’t need to go back in time to kill him. If you’re right, he’ll come to me. Then once this hell has no purpose, I can do with it what I want.”
“So if he shows up in our time frame, that will prove to you that he’s working his way through the seven gates and he’s doing what we want?”
Sanguine felt like she’d stepped into a logic trap. “It’ll prove that Mary’s too softhearted. Besides, it may take him years to figure out what’s expected of him. A guy like that doesn’t play by the rules unless he’s already exhausted every other possibility.”
“Hey, if he did figure out how to get through the gate, why isn’t he here already?”
Sanguine clasped her fingers together. “You and I are the two sides of his cage, remember? My grandmother wouldn’t let him join our time until we’re ready.”
“So if he shows up here, having aged noticeably, you’ll agree to return with me to your body?”
She knew when she’d been had. “This is why I never debate women who’ve had long-term relationships. I always end up feeling like the boyfriend who never wins an argument. I’m not promising anything. And if he doesn’t show up, I’m sticking to my plan.”
“But you don’t even know how to go back in time. It’s not a plan if you can’t do something.”
Sanguine stood and spread her wings to their full ten-foot span. “I couldn’t fly when I got here either or see the future. I’ve only been studying this realm for a few weeks. That is why I’m so worried about Colin. He’s had time. He’s just not smart enough to know what to study. Yet.”
“He has a physical body. You don’t. There is a difference.”
Kendell just didn’t get it at all.
Sanguine tried again. “We make our own reality. The number-one thing we’re worried about when it comes to him returning to the living is the knowledge he’s gained here in hell about how to manipulate his environment.”
“So what do we do? Just stand around here until your grandmother thinks we’re ready? How would we know the difference between him not finding his way through the gate and us still waiting?”
Sanguine flapped her wings. “He wouldn’t show up at the bank. This is the fourth gate. If we assume that he would come far enough in time to meet us in our present time once he passes the first gate, we need to get across the river.”
Kendell eyed Sanguine’s wings. “Must be nice to have those things. Guess I’m in for a long walk.”
Seeing what was about to happen gave Sanguine the courage to try her new magic. Without saying anything, she walked up, embraced her friend, and flapped her wings until she and Kendell were well clear of the bank.
* * *
Colin brushed out his shoulder-length hair and retied it into a ponytail. The shocks of gray that formed at his temples switched to black before reaching past his ears. His age fit him like a finely tailored suit. Time didn’t exist, not that he cared. He’d added the gray to his hair as a reminder of his hard-won education. The hair’s length was a nod to his many frustrations.
He peered harder into the mirror. Wrinkles had formed at the corners of his eyes. “That’s new.”
He stood back from the full-length mirror on the back of the door to admire his appearance. His first impression was that of a survivor. The devil in his personal hell had endured the phases of injury, anger, and acceptance. Those early days had seen him on the brink of insanity, but he’d prevailed over his own weakness of spirit. Embracing his situation had opened the door to his education, but he’d come as far as he could alone.
His perfectly tailored black suit was of such a high thread count that not a stitch could be detected even under a magnifying glass. The creases in his pants and jacket redefined the term sharp-dressed man. He opened the jacket to inspect the dark-purple paisley waistcoat and bloodred silk shirt. “A devil should look the part.”
But this time, he hadn’t dressed for his own pleasure. He turned back to what had been Luther Noire’s personal office. The large oak desk and walls covered in bookcases suited him better than his penthouse office. The views of the lifeless city from his former command post in the Central Business District had grown depressing. He didn’t need the reminder that there was no one to dominate. Luther’s hermit-like existence had created the perfect environment for Colin to conduct his studies.
He smiled at the iron cane that leaned in the corner. His leg still ached when he made a miscalculation, but he’d surpassed the need for the crutch—mentally and physically.
He put on his top hat and floor-length overcoat. “It’s time.”
The elevator opened before he left the office and closed just after he went through. Like every other simple mechanical device in hell, the machinery responded to the devil’s wishes without being told.
He walked into the circular central hub of the city. What had been a restaurant was now filled with control stations brought in from every city utility. The view down Canal Street had become one of his favorites. Streetcars clanged their way along the brightly lit thoroughfare like some aficionado’s expensive electric toy train. With no one to drive or ride the restored trollies, they remained clean and unmolested. He watched one of the antique red-and-yellow streetcars until it disappeared on its way to City Park.
Though watching the city from his rooftop perch was an enjoyable pastime, he had work to do. He turned from the empty French Quarter to the river. With a wave of his hand, the hurricane-proof sliding door opened to the rooftop observation deck. He stepped out into the moonlit night, marveling at how much energy it had taken to move the hands of time. In some other dimension, Luther Noire would be cussing up a storm at his depleted paranormal objects. Apparently, even magic could be drained. Colin had gotten what he wanted. The time change was only the physical manifestation of his defeat of the old swamp witch. He barely remembered her or the anger he’d so foolishly cast her way. Emotions were nothing more than wasted energy.
He pushed open the gate and walked to the edge of the building. He’d come as far as he could in this version of hell. Comfortable as his realm was, growth meant he had to move on. He spread his full-length overcoat. The light, welcome breeze grew into a microhurricane that lifted him from the roof. As with the city’s mechanisms, his only directive was his desire. He sailed across the river as if he were stepping across a storm drain.
A woman in a classy but comfortable summer dress stood on the porch. Her casual way of watching him descend out of the sky reminded him of a mother waiting for her child to come in for dinner. He was expected. Her anticipation worked in his favor. His feet met the ground a good dozen yards from the plantation’s front steps. Greeting a guardian of a gate from hell to life should be done on foot.
He approached the house with all the trepidation of a door-to-door salesman. “I would guess you know who I am.”
“I’ve been expecting you. You’re older than I thought you’d be.” The woman motioned to the porch swing.
He took a seat. Having the interview outside instead of in the stately house meant that he had to earn her trust. “I’ve been busy. How do we proceed?”
“Convince me you’re not the asshole whose actions resulted in me being homeless in your version of reality.”
He looked out at the lush grounds that were so different from the neighborhood Baron Malveaux had created by forcing Mary’s great-grandfather to sell his land—and the man’s women into prostitution. “How does a devil stop being a devil?�
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“If that’s your answer, this is going to be a short conversation. ‘I am what I am’? Really?”
The plantation was beautiful, but so was the historic neighborhood that had been home to generations of workers. “You represent an alternate reality where this land remained in one family. The city is smaller because of your wealth. In the world I knew, workers lived here. As time passed, musicians, artists, and writers found their inspiration on this side of the river. Family properties grew in value. You are a caring woman, so answer me this: is your family’s comfort worth the sacrifice to the city?”
“So the devil would defend his actions?”
He breathed in the rich aroma of the manicured lawn and the crisp, dry air of fall. “I can smell the gumbo cooking in your kitchen. If all you used were sugar and pleasant spices to flavor the dish, it would end up tasting bland. No one understands the need for pain to open the senses like a cook. Hot pepper awakens the taste buds just as suffering has infused New Orleans jazz with soul. I won’t apologize for my past. What would be the point? You’re not the one who’s suffered.”
She sat and stared at her property and then across the river. “I can see both realities. You burned down more than you created, but something new grew out of the ashes that wouldn’t have existed without the destruction. I’m not sure that justifies your sins, but that’s not for me to decide.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to believe me, but I do love this city. Set aside for a moment the part of me that did your family wrong. As a businessman with deep pockets, I could have left New Orleans for bigger dreams. Lord knows my mother pushed me hard enough to enter politics on the national stage. I chose to remain here. Even as Baron Malveaux, I never took advantage of the underprivileged—only those rich and arrogant enough to think they could best me. Your great-grandfather was a fool, but he knew what he was getting into when he borrowed money from me.”
