by G A Chase
He folded the page and put it back in his shirt pocket. He wasn’t about to resort to climbing down the thirty-three stories. He grabbed his long coat and stepped out onto the roof. “Flying is a completely reasonable option.”
27
With Myles making trips to Guinee, hell, and the deep waters—not to mention meeting interdimensional people and combating the devil himself—normal wasn’t a word he often used when thinking about his life. As he sat next to Sanguine, listening to Polly Urethane and the Strippers practicing at the Scratchy Dog, he longed for the life that always seemed to be just beyond his grasp. Doughnut Hole sat at his side while Cheesecake lounged onstage like a drunk who had passed out at the singer’s feet.
Sanguine leaned toward him. “It’s going to be a great show tonight.”
“They do seem to be playing really tight.”
“No, you don’t understand. I can see it. This place is going to be packed. You might want to have Charlie lay in a couple more cases of Abita Amber.”
Her predictions had been right more often than not.
“I’ll let him know. Have you got anything beyond how the night will play out?”
“Without insect vision, I’m at a loss for exact future sight. I get premonitions. Guess I should add clairvoyant to my list of job titles.”
He had too much on his magical plate to feel envious. “Sounds confusing.”
“More like disorienting. Like any other power, give me a couple of weeks, and the visions will seem like no big deal. I’m not kidding about that beer though.”
He knew when a woman was giving him an order. “I’m on it.”
Doughnut Hole followed along like an attentive assistant.
“How we looking, Charlie? Anything I can do?” Myles asked. Though he was co-owner, he would always view Charlie as the true manager of the club.
“With the house band once again sporting its lead guitarist, I’m expecting a big night. You free to pick up your usual gig?”
“I’ll be slinging the bottles with you all night. Sanguine says we’ll need a couple more cases of Abita Amber.”
Charlie opened the beer fridge. “We look okay, but I’ll grab a few more just to be sure. I wouldn’t want to cross that sexy witch.”
“How was Kendell’s fill-in?”
Charlie leaned across the bar. “Let me tell you. Val Spar is no Olympia Stain. If you and Kendell’s side gigs start getting any more distracting, Polly is going to have to do a search for a real guitarist. By the second night, our revenues were down by half.”
“Trust me, brother, this distraction was hell. I’m just glad to see Kendell back onstage.”
The band’s playing grew so loud Charlie had to yell. “She’s certainly playing with more intensity.”
Myles knew the feeling of being infected with Baron Malveaux’s energy. He’d been trapped in his own living hell while under the baron’s possession—unable to express the rage that dominated every thought. Watching from the bar, Myles began to wonder if his sexy girlfriend behind the black guitar was channeling her Olympia Stain stage persona or if something darker was influencing her music.
He needed help. When it came to women and their moods, he had a near-perfect record for picking the wrong answer. “Any chance you’ve seen Delphine de Galpion recently?”
Charlie was double-checking his inventory sheet before making his final stocking run prior to opening. “I thought you didn’t trust her.”
“I don’t, but she does have her uses. While you’re out, think you could swing by her place and let her know I’d like to talk?”
“Yes, boss.”
* * *
Kendell had been too long away from her music, her dog, her band, and basically everything she considered important. She’d even managed to piss off Myles. The self-condemnation ran out her fingers and against the strings of her guitar as the band played their usual Friday night gig.
As hard as she tried, Colin kept creeping back into her thoughts, even while she was onstage. She held tightly to her anger toward him. The intense emotion drove her harder into No Doubt’s “Just a Girl” than she had intended. By the end of the number, she needed a break.
She held the guitar toward Polly. “I need to change a string. It’ll only take a minute.”
“You have gotten pretty good at quick changes. I’ll have the band play something mellow while you get fixed up.” Polly stepped up to the microphone. “Any of you who’ve been around the last few weeks will recognize this one. I’m gonna grab myself a beer while I turn the band over to the rhythm section.”
Kendell hadn’t really expected the band to take five just because she needed to make the repair, but the ease with which they transitioned to playing without her gave her the chills. To her amazement, Minerva stepped out from behind her drum kit and took the microphone for “In the Cold, Cold Night.” Scraper’s bass accompaniment worked well with Minerva’s deep, smoky voice, though Kendell wondered how the duo had originally convinced Polly to turn loose of the microphone. Kendell sat next to the lead singer at the bar and fixed her strings.
“They sound good,” Myles said while mixing up margaritas for some college kids.
Polly had the look of a mother watching her kids’ recital. “We had to get a little creative without a strong lead guitarist. Scraper is far more versatile on that bass than she lets on. Minerva’s never going to be more than an oddity singer, but the chemistry between the two has a magical quality that draws in the crowd.”
Kendell stopped feeding the steel string through the bridge of her guitar. “How long have I been gone, and since when have you been so savvy about crowd reactions?”
“Too long, and I never had to before. Don’t get me wrong. We miss you like crazy, but any other guitarist would be out on her ass if she left us high and dry. You’re family, and I get why you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. You being gone, however, has meant each of us had to up our game. Even so, the girls still voted me off guitar.”
Kendell went back to fixing her ax but kept her eyes on Polly. “Sounds to me like you’ve upped your leadership role. If I’m not careful, you’re going to turn this group into something famous.”
Polly shrugged. “Would that be so bad, Miss Business Owner? A versatile house band might just earn this club the reputation it deserves on Frenchmen Street.”
Kendell finished tuning the strings to the best of her ability without an amp. “Let’s get back up there before Scraper and Minerva rename us the Black Stripes.”
She felt much more connected to the band during the second half of the gig. The ghost of Colin Malveaux might threaten her thoughts, but music was Kendell’s personal dimension. She was the one to decide if he was welcome in her mental audience.
Each of her bandmates gave her huge hugs at the end of the last number. All five of them linked arms over shoulders for their final acknowledgement of the applause.
The job of Olympia Stain the musician might have ended, but Kendell Summer the bar owner still had to help close up the club. Myles had looked worried most of the night. His actions weren’t obvious enough to be noticeable by any drunk customer, but as his partner and lover, Kendell caught every furrowed brow as he looked to the stage. While Charlie did his final inventory, she grabbed a couple of beers and hustled Myles out back.
“You don’t have to worry about me every time I have a killer performance.”
He took the offered bottle and sat at the metal table. “You remember how we talked about you keeping an eye on me for any change in personality after the baron took control my body?”
As if she was ever going to forget her part in his possession. “Of course, but I’m not feeling anything off about you. Are you worried about the cane?”
He opened her beer and set it across the table. “I’m not worried about something happening to me. I’ve been discounting your moods to spending too much time in hell. Both you and Sanguine haven’t been yourselves. In her case, I get it. Being a falle
n angel who no longer has her wings or the ability to see clearly into the future must make this reality feel like hell. I’m more worried about you.”
Her natural reaction was to defend herself, but the agreement to listen worked both ways. They’d subjected themselves, and each other, to too many threats for her to be belligerent. “What do you propose?”
Instead of being relieved at her acceptance as she’d hoped, he stared at his beer. “When it comes to matters involving voodoo, I only trust Delphine to do what’s in the best interest of her family’s history. When it comes to you, however, I do believe she sees you as a protégée and a friend.”
A cold fear whose source she couldn’t identify gripped Kendell’s heart. “What do you think she can do?”
Myles downed a good portion of his beer. “If you’re being influenced from hell, she should be able to identify the source.”
“You think Colin has some kind of handle on me?” She tried not to make the question come out as a challenge, but even to her, the words sounded confrontational.
“I think both you and Sanguine spent a lot of time in Colin’s realm. Maybe the influence isn’t from him. Sanguine said you two are the primary sources for what keeps that hell together. Even with the seven gates we built, and relieving you of some of that responsibility for Colin, maybe your soul needs a break.”
“And are you proposing we bring Sanguine along to Delphine’s inspection?” Good luck with that.
He toyed with his empty beer bottle. “You are my first priority. I won’t even go with you if you don’t want me present. I’m just worried about you, Kendell. You’re snappish toward me, cut me out of your plans, and play onstage like you’re up there all alone.”
She looked at him in shock. “I was fully a part of the band tonight. You’ve got no right to judge my playing.”
“Of the two of us, you’ve always been far more analytical. Tell me something hasn’t changed. I’m going to grab a couple more beers while you think about it.”
Being left alone deprived her of an adversary, and that meant she had to face herself. She had been more on edge lately. The characteristics that Myles had described had bugged the hell out of her when she’d noticed them in Sanguine. People were no longer like interesting books Kendell wanted to delve into but obstacles she had to work around. No one understood. Her temper didn’t want to be placated but challenged. Maybe Sanguine wasn’t just playing the bratty younger sibling. Maybe she had been influenced by her grandmother’s creation. And if Sanguine had been affected, that meant Kendell had to accept the same diagnosis.
By the time Myles returned with the beers, she understood how much pain she’d caused him. “I’ll go see Delphine, and I’ll bring Sanguine with me. Though it might be better if you asked her. In spite of her snarkiness, she does like you. She sees me too much like a sister to take me seriously enough to listen to. Plus, you’re the one who is seeing the change.”
Myles drank his beer. “I don’t have a problem setting up the meeting.”
“I don’t want to hide anything from you, but it might be best if you didn’t come along. Even though she’ll listen to you, Sanguine can be pretty difficult when she feels cornered and outnumbered. Women can be pretty defensive when being poked and prodded, especially when it comes to our souls.”
* * *
Sanguine knew she was being played. Myles just never was all that clever. But he had a point about Kendell acting oddly. Meeting her and Delphine for lunch brought back memories of figuring out how to break into hell. Sanguine had won that debate. The victory gave her confidence to again meet with the voodoo priestess.
She got to the café first and ordered a Sazerac. The absinthe mellowed with rye and given a little zing with bitters reminded her of working up potions under her grandmother’s watchful, though blind, eye. Not everything about New Orleans sucked, just the people.
Kendell looked as though she hadn’t slept in days as she entered the courtyard, but she perked up on making eye contact with Sanguine. “I thought Delphine would have beaten us. She likes being able to set up her little tricks before the marks show up.”
Sanguine had trouble believing the words of judgment had come from Kendell. They sounded more like something Sanguine herself would say. “It’s just us for the moment. You should try their Sazeracs. They’re very good.”
“No, thanks. Ever since Myles said he’d make one for Colin should he pass Myles’s fifth gate, I’ve sworn off them. Has he explained to you that he thinks we’ve got some plague from hell?”
Sanguine motioned to the waitress for another drink and to take Kendell’s order. With their drinks secured, she sat back to enjoy the sun. “That boyfriend of yours worries too much. Sure, the energy from hell interacts with who we are—that’s inevitable—but it’s not like we change into demons.”
Kendell had the slow deliberation Myles often displayed when he didn’t like an answer. “So you’re saying he’s right?”
“It’s not like the devil has your soul. Actually, it’s kind of the opposite. You know why I hate being in relationships?”
“What does your fear of commitment have to do with anything?” Kendell asked.
“I’m trying to illustrate my point. When I’m seeing someone, I feel like I lose a part of myself to them. There’s a melding of spirits, and I don’t like it. I’m me, and that’s the way it should stay.”
“What does that have to do with being infected by hell?”
Sanguine wondered how Kendell could be so dense sometimes. She sighed heavily at having to explain the obvious. “Agnes built this hell. You know that. When she died, she willed it to us. And by willed, I don’t mean we inherited it. Her force of will bonded us together.” She grabbed a salt shaker and closed her hands around it as a visual representation. “Our combined energy is what holds Colin in place. But you already know that too.” The final cut was as close to a slap in Kendell’s face as Sanguine dared.
“You’ve explained some of that before. Are you saying you and I are in something like a romantic relationship? Just don’t tell me we’re in a threesome with Colin.”
Kendell’s naivety reminded Sanguine of a virgin who didn’t know if going to third base constituted sex or not.
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. If you and I were in love, you’d know it. I’m not one of those women who plays coy or hard to get.”
Kendell practically snatched her mimosa out of the waitress’s hand. She then proceeded to just sit there, drink in hand, until the woman left. “I didn’t say we were in love,” she whispered. “I said like a romantic relationship.”
Sanguine did her best not to laugh at her friend. “Your repression is duly noted, my straight friend.”
Delphine arrived before Sanguine had a chance to further embarrass Kendell. “Sorry I’m late. Myles’s descriptions of what he thinks he’s noticed had me delve deeper into Marie’s journals than I’d planned.”
Kendell finally set down her mimosa. “How is your library?”
“Now that you’ve returned my totems and journals, I’ve been busy putting things back where they belong.” Delphine motioned to the waitress and ordered a white wine.
Sanguine wondered if Delphine kept any kind of an inventory. “Have you noticed anything else missing?”
Delphine nodded. “My shop may be an embassy in hell, but it’s not as secure as, say, the World Trade Center. Luther got to dictate what Colin could do in his building, but as the one who originally cast the Malveaux curse, Marie didn’t bother with a similar paranormal security system. Things come and go out of my shop with disconcerting regularity. It’s more like an interdimensional lending library without a way of keeping tabs on the borrowers.”
Sanguine wished her Sazerac were a double. “That doesn’t sound very safe.”
“The only spirits with access are supposed to be members of fellow embassies. As Colin is the only person in his realm, and he thinks of himself as the devil, I suspect he found a lo
ophole in the charter.”
The way Kendell grasped her glass made Sanguine wonder why the thing didn’t explode into a million pieces.
“So just to get this over with, are we possessed by the devil?” Kendell asked.
Delphine pulled out two candles from her bag and lit one next to each woman. The scent of vanilla didn’t mix well with Sanguine’s Sazerac. “I doubt you’re under Colin’s possession. He’s in his hell, and possession kind of requires one spirit to inhabit another’s body. Under his control would be another story, but again, with him so isolated, I can’t see that as being possible either.”
Sanguine could practically hear Kendell sigh with relief. “So Myles was wrong.”
“Don’t sound so pleased,” Delphine said. “Possession and control are easily diagnosed and dealt with. If Colin is somehow affecting your thoughts and actions, there’s something else going on—something that shouldn’t be possible, considering his isolation from this reality. Tell me, did either of you bring back any mementoes from hell?”
Sanguine couldn’t contain her laughter. “Why in hell would we bring anything back? We did retrieve your voodoo dolls from on top of the World Trade Center, if they count. But we weren’t in hell at the time.”
“Those totems belong in this realm. Everything in my library eventually finds its way home. His connection would be more personal.”
Sanguine honestly didn’t care about Delphine’s belongings. The inner workings of voodoo held all the appeal of a college calculus class. “So long as those aren’t what you were talking about, we should be fine.”
Kendell looked like a girl who’d just been caught stealing diamond earrings from her mother’s purse. She pulled a gold cufflink from her pocket and set it in front of Delphine. The candle flames next to both women moved toward the piece of jewelry as though someone were squirting them with lighter fluid.
