by G A Chase
She clasped her hands in her lap. “Perhaps it’s not for me to judge another person. I accepted this role as a favor to Kendell, but I wonder now, even with her connection to you, if any person is ever in a place to condemn another to hell. If I let you through my gate, how will your life change?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I’ve come as far as I can without the help of another.”
She nodded her acceptance, but in her eyes was a tinge of sorrow. “Come inside and share a bowl of gumbo with me.”
23
Sanguine set Kendell down on the earthen levee. Flying was challenging enough, but doing so with a passenger in her arms played hell with Sanguine’s navigation. “We can walk from here.”
“That sure beat having to walk across the bridge. Now that we’re here, how do we find out if Colin is as well? Yell ‘Abracadabra’ or something?”
“Saying his name three times might work too.” Sanguine had been so busy enjoying the late-afternoon sun on her wings and talking to Kendell that she hadn’t bothered focusing on the plantation ahead.
“Nice wings.”
She snapped her attention to the house at hearing Colin’s voice from behind the screen door.
As he stepped outside, she could see what he had planned. Though flying might have been faster, she ran at him to avoid getting her wings tangled up in the trees.
But before she could reach him, he lifted his hands to the sky. “Fly away home, little ladybug.”
The crack of lightning sent her tumbling to the ground. She turned back to Kendell, praying her friend was okay, but all she could make out was the electric storm that grew in intensity from the top of the World Trade Center.
“Kendell! Run!”
A ball of electric fire erupted from the top of the building and turned the sky black as if it had burned the air itself. Sanguine’s ability to see time’s passage in multiple screens gave her a blinding headache. Nothing she saw made sense.
When the sky cleared, she realized the trap had been set for Kendell. She was nowhere in sight. Sanguine turned back to the porch with all her anger at the ready, but Colin too had vanished. “Fuck!” She hated swearing in front of the matronly lady who’d provided the one comforting escape in hell.
Mary fell to the porch. “I couldn’t have said it better, and it’s all my fault. I let him through the first gate by giving him some gumbo. I thought he’d changed.”
Sanguine hurried up the stairs to comfort the distraught woman. “He’s a con artist. That’s why I’m here. Maybe now Kendell will finally listen. Of course, we have to save her first.”
“Where do you think he’s taken her?”
Sanguine knew the challenge ahead. “Not where, but when.”
* * *
Kendell woke up facedown in the dirt. Whatever had hit her had turned her lights out. Her ears were ringing, and she couldn’t be sure, but it felt as though someone had turned a water hose on her. “What the hell?”
“Give it a minute. Traveling back in time is kind of a gut punch.”
She rolled to her back and saw Colin towering over her. The bastard was completely dry. “Mind spreading whatever magical umbrella you have over me as well?”
He looked up in shock. “My apologies.” He waved his hand at the sky, and instantly the rain stopped.
“Clever little trick, as was that lightning bolt you hit me with.”
He pointed at the sky as if she was supposed to be able to see anything. “My bats keep watch over me. I’m afraid I’ve been alone for so long my simple human decency is a little rusty.”
She struggled to sit up. “No one would ever accuse you of being decent, no matter which version of your beings you chose. Now, do you mind telling me what’s going on?”
He leaned down and offered her his hand. The action looked overly stiff and staged. “I’m afraid my time reversal went a little farther back than I intended. This was my first attempt at reversing time. I’d hoped to only lose a few minutes. From the storm, I’d guess we went all the way back to the beginning of my time in hell.”
Her ears were still ringing as she stood up, but at least what she saw began to make sense. “I’m pretty sure you know that’s not what I was asking.”
“Again, it’s been some time since I carried on a polite conversation. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t pick up on your nuances.”
She tried to frame her question as if she were talking to a difficult child. “Why have you kidnapped me?”
“I could ask why you tossed me into hell, but neither question seems like a good beginning to our conversation. You fascinate me, but then, you’re an attractive woman, and I’m sure that doesn’t come as a surprise to you.” He looked at Mary’s home. “I suggest we get inside. Since it’s the first gate to hell, I’m sure you’ll understand my reservation about breaking into this plantation house. The top of the World Trade Center is quite comfortable, but as that’s my home base, I’ll understand if you’d rather not accept my hospitality. I’ll accept any place you choose, provided it’s not one of the gates.”
“How gracious of you.” She wondered if he’d pick up on her sarcasm. “I have an apartment in the Quarter.”
“Very well.” Without asking her permission, he whisked her under his arm and jumped into the air like some supervillain. The wind currents carried them across the river.
This is getting really old fast. She worried that expressing her irritation at the presumptuous act might land her in the river.
She pointed toward the block behind the church. “I live on Orleans.” As they descended out of the cloud, she continued pointing at her third-floor veranda, wishing she were returning to the home she knew. It wasn’t like her to invite a devil into her home. She took comfort in the idea that somewhere in a different time and dimension, Cheesecake and Doughnut Hole were lounging in the chair or lying by the window.
As he walked in from the balcony, he removed his long coat as if he owned the building. “Nice place.” His comment didn’t even come close to sounding sincere.
“Don’t expect me to offer you anything to eat or drink. This isn’t a social situation. I’m your prisoner, not your host.”
He sat on the lounge chair by the window. At first, she considered yelling at him not to take Cheesecake’s spot, but then she realized maybe the old girl might get an idea of what was going on. She never took well to having her space invaded. Kendell smiled, thinking Colin might be getting his ass bitten at that very moment and not even realize it.
“We’re the last two people in this dimension. All I want to do is talk.”
She considered giving him the silent treatment. As a high school student, that move had worked well for her in dealings with her parents. But she wasn’t the only person at risk. Panic threatened to set in at the idea of Myles still standing guard at the gate in Guinee. The one warning Baron Samedi had given was for her not to time travel. The sooner she figured out how to placate Colin and get the hell out of his dimension, the less danger Myles would have to endure. “You did a lot of work just for a chat.”
“I had some time with little else to do. You haven’t been an easy person to get to know.”
“Maybe that’s because you have been constantly stealing my dog or possessing my boyfriend or kidnapping my band. For a businessman, your approach needs a lot of work.”
He shrugged as if those indiscretions had been unavoidable. “Work and pleasure don’t always mesh.”
“And what do I get out of our conversation?”
He sat forward on the chair and put his elbows on his knees. “I’ll help you find a way back to your reality. Snapping back in time is easier than moving forward. I’ve only managed a day or two at a time. I have the machinery. I just need to figure out how to pump it up.”
“That sounds more like a benefit to you than me. Other than getting me home, what do you intend to do with your little time machine?”
If he was trying to suppress a grin, he w
as unsuccessful. “I’ll still be in hell, if that’s what you’re asking. I’d just like to experience the effortless passing of days again.”
She motioned to the ceiling-fan lights. “But you’ve already electrified the city. Does it mean that much to you to have natural light?”
“You’d be surprised at what you miss locked away in hell. I’d be happy to share the deprivations with you.”
She could envision that Colin’s slipping from deprivations to depravations was only a matter of time, something he had in abundance. “Since I don’t seem to have a choice, why don’t we take this one step at a time. I assume you have a topic you wish to discuss.”
“I’ve always been fascinated by the dichotomy of good and evil. As you are a gatekeeper to hell and I’m the devil himself, we might discover some hidden truth.”
“I’m not sure I’m fit to represent the good in your scenario. There’s a reason we set up seven gates. No one person can carry such a burden of always making the right choice.”
“And yet you don’t feel the same way about evil? Ultimate good is unattainable, but true evil is easy to identify?” He spoke with the assurance of a lawyer who knew his argument inside and out and was looking for a way to trip up his opponent.
Logic and critical thinking had never been her strongest subjects in college. “I think we can both agree your actions haven’t shown any redeeming qualities.”
“Sometimes the greatest evolution comes out of the harshest of environments while complete satisfaction of needs can lead to weak organisms.”
Begrudgingly, she finally sat on the end of the couch opposite the lounge chair. “I’m familiar with the argument. Just because people are able to struggle back from adversity, that doesn’t forgive the oppressor. Life has a way of balancing the equation independent of good deeds or evil intentions.”
“Fair enough,” he said, “but no one is fully good or evil. Life balances that as well.”
Having played the devil at Robert Johnson’s crossroads, Kendell was familiar with the experience of unintentionally becoming the villain. “I can accept that even the best people aren’t completely good. I doubt even someone like Gandhi or Martin Luther King would make such claims about themselves. There’s a humility that accompanies the good. Evil people, however, seem to relish their depravity. As Baron Malveaux, you certainly fit that description. As Lincoln Laroque, you behaved only slightly better, but taking the devil into your spirit proved your true intent.”
“So you give me no hope? Then why agree to this hell Agnes Delarosa built for me? She believed I could learn to be better than I am. Isn’t that the whole point of the seven gates?”
Kendell suspected debating the devil was always a losing game. “What do you want me to tell you? Yes, I think you can be redeemed. But it has to be something you want with all of your being. Half measures, like conning Mary into letting you pass through her gate only so you can hold me prisoner, only prove your lack of sincerity.”
“Nothing I told her was a lie. The New Orleans that sprouted from my deeds as bank owner is unique in its culture, music, food, and art. Say what you will about my tactics, but I take pride in what this city has become. If I had to play the devil to make it happen, well, better to have that evil isolated into one person than spread across a privileged class.”
Given enough time, she knew he’d wear her down. “If you truly believe what you’re saying, present yourself at the seven gates. You’ve already gained access to the first.”
“And rely on what are, as you yourself admit, flawed human beings to judge me? Do you really think the gatekeepers you appointed will keep their personal feelings out of their decisions? Your boyfriend certainly won’t.”
Kendell hadn’t really cared if her judges would act impartially. “Can you blame him? You have a lot of evil to atone for. Asking to be pardoned from hell isn’t just about showing you’ve changed.”
“Penance is usually assessed in years. As time doesn’t pass in this realm, who’s to say how long my incarceration must last?”
She was starting to feel like a parole board. “I don’t have an answer for you. I suppose your reality dictates how long you’ll remain here.”
“You mean the old swamp witch. Maybe it was Sanguine I should have captured. Though, as she clearly thinks of herself as some avenging angel, I’d have to ask where she falls on your scale of good and evil.”
Kendell didn’t need to imagine Sanguine’s response. She’d made it clear that Colin’s only fate should be death. “I doubt your conversation with her would be as civil, or long, as ours.”
“So you have one member of your panel of judges who won’t forgive me and one who only wants to see me dead. Do we really need to analyze the remaining members of the judiciary? You must see the impossibility of me passing through the gates, just as I do.”
The gates had been meant as a way to control Colin. So long as he thought he could gain forgiveness, he might avoid trying to break down the walls of hell.
“This isn’t a conversation, is it? It’s a threat.”
“I only want you to see my imprisonment from my perspective,” he said. “I was accused, tried, convicted, and sentenced in the blink of an eye.”
Kendell had never been completely comfortable with Sanguine’s actions. “I wasn’t the one who cast you into hell. The malevolent spirit of Baron Samedi earned the harshest treatment among both the living and the dead, but you’re only partly made up of his energy. However, as that part of you can’t be removed, you have to suffer his fate.”
“I’m first and foremost a businessman, and I know when I’ve gained all I’m likely to achieve in a negotiation. You understand my concerns about my judges and the consequence of the situation continuing as it stands, and I can see that my future depends on reconciling the two sides of my being. You and I are not at war any more than Baron Malveaux and Lincoln Laroque are in conflict within me. I simply must show you how my old lusts for power can be harnessed and directed. This has been a good meeting.”
Kendell had the uneasy feeling she’d agreed to something without realizing it. “So now you’ll help me get back to my life?”
“A deal is a deal.”
* * *
Colin’s conversation with Kendell had been the longest talk he’d had with someone since entering hell. All that talking left his throat feeling like he’d just spent the night at a rave. Though he’d done most of his thinking out loud, the use of his voice for the benefit of another person left him light-headed. The discussion also exhausted most of his social skills. The combination of physical and emotional exercise left him content to walk the city streets in peace alongside the fetching young woman.
She stopped at the intersection of Royal and Canal. “I can understand lighting the streets, but why the streetcars? They’re lovely, but running them seems awfully frivolous for someone who prides himself on amassing power.”
The casual conversation made him feel almost human. “Beyond the World Trade Center’s built-in power containment, I haven’t been able to find a way to store electricity. After a handful of lightning storms that emanated from the roof as the result of too much power, I thought it’d be best to siphon off the energy in a less dramatic fashion.”
“Well, they’re lovely.”
He raised his hand as if hailing a cab. The red-and-yellow trolley clanked to a stop in front of them. “Your carriage awaits.”
For a moment, he thought she was about to grace him with a feminine response of appreciation. Instead, she climbed aboard as if getting on a bus for her ride to work. “Agnes did a nice job of restoring this old streetcar. Don’t you worry that by moving time forward, you’ll lose the power of the hurricane?”
The familiar desire to dominate argued for him to sit as close to her as possible, invading her personal space and pinning her against the side of the streetcar. Instead, he took the bench across the aisle from her. “That building doesn’t rely on only wind for power. You’d be a
mazed at what I’ve discovered. Luther not only put in solar power, but he also harnessed the flow of the Mississippi. Electricity isn’t an issue, but storing up enough to move time is a challenge. That’s where I need your help.”
“I’m no mechanical engineer.”
Her naivety made him smile. “I didn’t expect you were. What you do know, however, is how to harness the power of voodoo. Marie left some totems and, well, let’s just say I drained their power.”
“You mean when you broke into my ceremony to establish the seven gates.”
She might be naïve, but she clearly wasn’t stupid.
“I needed to get your attention. Had I not been so presumptuous as to butt into your game, you might not have returned.”
She turned away from him. “Maybe it would be best if we didn’t talk about how you’ve violated me with your display of power.”
The way she phrased her response left him filled with both self-loathing and the familiar desire for conquest. “That was a long time ago.”
“Not for me.”
The streetcar rang its bell as it came to a stop at the end of Canal. They rode the elevator in silence up to the circular control room at the top of the structure.
Colin hadn’t considered a woman’s point of view for some time—even before being banished to hell—but as he looked around the room with someone at his side, he realized how haphazard the place looked. “Most of these controls run parts of the city, like the streetcars. The voodoo totems are spread around the room and roof. You’ll find Marie’s journals on the conference table.”
She looked at him as though he’d forgotten something important. “And what am I supposed to do with them?”
“You’re the expert at controlling evil spirits. Each totem contains multiple souls, though I’m sure you’re familiar with how the fetishes work, having cast me into one of them. Having seen the hideous sculpture from the inside, I can tell you there’s a power within the wood.”
